Hello friends!

If you celebrate July 4th in the US, I hope you had a safe holiday. There were fireworks going off until about 3am where I live in the multiple neighborhoods I can see out my windows, and some of those were not at alllll legal in Minnesota. Which made for a spectacular, if lengthy, show.

This chapter is mostly feelings, honestly. But good ones? The theme is "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas.

I've been writing furiously all weekend and now, since I have today off work, I'm going back to it. I am so excited about SO MANY THINGS yet to come in this series. But, one week at a time.

Enjoy!


Chapter 10: Twists and Turns of Fate


Tony emerged into what had become the common room of the Tower, not the living space in the penthouse, but a few floors down. It hadn't been planned as a social space, but Pepper and Bruce started using it to entertain when others dropped by, and soon enough the floor had chairs, couches, a pool-slash-ping pong-slash air hockey table, and whatever else people seemed to want.

It was a little after midnight, but Rhodey had called, so Tony expected that the party hadn't wrapped up completely. What he didn't expect was for everyone to still be there — except Nick Fury who hadn't come after all, and Tony was more relieved about that than he would ever let on — lounging about while Natasha and Pepper played a highly competitive game of air hockey.

"What are you all still doing here?" he asked as soon as he entered. "Cap, aren't you, like, a hundred years old? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Funny," Steve Rogers said. "You were the first one to sneak off for a nap."

"Oh, I don't think that's where he went," Natasha said, smirking as she banked a shot off the side and scored a goal against Pepper.

Sitting on a chair with a tablet in his lap, Bruce looked up. "How's Peter doing, Tony?"

"Peter?" That was Clint Barton, with his feet on the furniture as usual. "Who's Peter?"

Tony turned a flat look on Bruce, but Rhodey was already smirking from his own seat and spoke up before Tony could mitigate the damage.

"He's a kid who lives at the apartment Tony's hiding out at. He's got Tony wrapped around his little finger." He glanced upwards. "JARVIS, play the Peter Parker highlight reel, will you?"

"Of course, Colonel Rhodes."

Tony opened his mouth to tell JARVIS to ignore that order, but stopped himself. If he fussed about it, they would just push harder. The only way to deal with teasing like this was to make things seem like not a big deal. Especially when Rhodey had that particular expression, or Romanoff was smiling that spy smile of amusement.

Pepper and Natasha paused their game while JARVIS called up the large screen on the wall and repeated the same set of clips from the time Tony had shown Peter to Pepper and Bruce. As the first started playing, Tony quietly texted JARVIS not to show anything related to Halloween, the costume, or the attack, just in case.

As much as Tony didn't need the commentary for building the kid a fake Iron Man costume, even less did Peter need the most dangerous people in the world seeing him brought low.

"Hmm."

Tony spun, eyes wide. Maria Hill was leaning against a wall in the corner.

"When did you get here? How long have you been here?" Tony demanded. "Are you actually spying for Captain Eyepatch on Thanksgiving?"

"She got here just after you stepped out," Pepper told him.

"You don't have anywhere better to spend Thanksgiving?" Tony shook his head. The rest of them were misfits or had already spent years together like Pepper and Rhodey and himself — she must have other people besides the SHIELD agents and Steve Rogers, right?

"Active SHIELD agents don't spend official holidays with our civilian loved ones," she said. "It keeps us from becoming predictable and potentially leading threats home. So, no. Besides, you've never seen the cafeteria at the Triskelion when people have been hanging around for too long. If you had, you'd be here, too."

Tony caught Natasha nodding vigorously. He decided that was all he wanted to know about SHIELD. He'd had enough of frat parties before he'd turned twenty. Drunk college kids versus uptight secret agents letting loose? Yeah, probably the exact same results.

"Well," Steve Rogers said, now wearing an identical expression to Rhodey, "I'm glad you made a friend."

"I don't know," Romanoff said. "He might be too good for Tony."

"He's definitely too good for me," Tony was happy to agree, "which is why nobody is ever going to go near him, right?"

But Clint was looking sideways at Natasha. "You met him." It wasn't a guess.

"What? When?" Rhodey was affronted. "How come she gets to meet my unofficial nephew before I do?"

"She...wait, your what?" Tony decided this conversation needed to end soon or he was going back to Queens.

"You dote on him like a bird with one chick," Rhodey said. "If I didn't know better, I'd be asking you about where you were twelve or thirteen years ago."

"Yep, that's it. Anybody wanting to talk about Peter can go do it in somebody else's tower." He sauntered over to the table still littered with food — hummus, really? — and grabbed the nearest thing that might be alcoholic. "JARVIS, feel free to selectively deploy the sprinkler system as needed."

"I shall take it under advisement, sir."

"Okay, fine." Pepper glanced at the others. "You can't blame them for being a little curious, but I think that's enough. Besides," and her face split in a fierce expression Tony knew was perfected in the boardroom, "Nat and I have a game to finish."

The two of them returned their attention to the air hockey table, and Rhodey started a betting pool with Natasha and Clint and Maria Hill on the winner. Bruce just smiled and went back to whatever was on his tablet.

Tony didn't realize Steve was near him until the man cleared his throat — for a big guy, he could walk very quietly.

"I didn't mean it to sound as condescending as it probably did," he said. "I just...everybody needs somebody they can let their guard down around. And I've never seen you with anybody like that besides maybe Pepper, but…"

"I get it," Tony cut him off. "I'm cold and don't have any friends. Thanks, Cap."

Rogers sighed. "Also not what I meant. Look, quit twisting my words and just know that I'm glad you've got the kid and I'm really glad the kid has you, too."

Tony blinked at him. Steve took that as an invitation to continue.

"I heard he's been through a lot, which means he's tough, and he's clearly beyond smart, but the world still kicked him around. Whether he needs a big brother or an uncle or whatever, it's good for him that you're there. And it's good for you, too. You smile for real in those clips with him."

Tony was taken aback. He swallowed and really looked at the man. It was hard, sometimes, to see Steve Rogers behind the cowl of Captain America and the weight of Howard Stark's resolve, but this Steve wasn't as cold as the one Tony had grown up resenting. This Steve Rogers had eyes that remembered being scrappy, and of having a friend.

A friend, Tony remembered belatedly, who never made it out of the war. A friend who had been dead seventy years, but for Steve it had only been maybe two.

And now that he remembered that, he couldn't look at Steve Rogers without seeing just a little bit of May Parker in him. Sure, Rogers was a soldier instead of a nurse, but they were both fierce, unafraid to speak up, and awkwardly gentle. And still grieving.

So Tony let himself face Steve as he would May, his walls and defenses slipping a bit. "He's a good kid," he said. "He's the kind of kid who could build the future. I'm going to make sure he gets there."

Steve nodded. "If you ever need help with anything, just ask. As long as I'm not on a mission for Fury, it doesn't take long to get here from DC. He isn't from Brooklyn, but Queens is close." There was a flash of a smile. "Us boroughs kids gotta stick together."

Tony found himself smiling back. "Not sure how I'd explain bringing Captain America around when I'm just Mario Carbonell, local fix-it guy. But thanks."

He held out a hand — and a mental olive branch.

And Steve accepted both with obvious warmth.

-==OOO==-

It started so innocently. Wednesday after Thanksgiving, Tony shot a text to May as soon as he remembered that Christmas was on the way and he should probably do something about that.

"I need to know what the kid wants for Christmas" was all he sent.

He knew May wasn't working but instead would be running errands, so he didn't really expect an answer right away. Somehow, even if she said she only needed to pick up one thing at the store, every time she went out on 'errands,' it took at least three hours. Tony had asked JARVIS to track her once and he still couldn't fathom the time she spent.

Just after lunchtime, JARVIS spoke up.

"Sir."

Tony was elbows deep in the next Iron Man suit and didn't look up. "What?"

"It is possible I am overstepping, but I believe this could fall under the PLUMBER protocol."

That got Tony's attention and he set his tools down. "What does?"

"Missus Parker is currently sitting in her car in the parking lot." There was a pause. "She is crying, sir, and has been for the past eighteen minutes."

Tony swore. Then he swore again because he was actually the worst person ever for this. He was barely a capable human being. Hardly a prize boyfriend to Pepper who was the most patient woman on the planet. Tony's emotional IQ couldn't fill in a rivet hole.

But he remembered what he'd said to May when Peter fell asleep after the Halloween dance, that he had been trying to do what he wanted when he was a kid. And May had answered that "We all need to be cared for when we hurt." And both definitely applied to this situation.

Also, how could he look the kid in the eye if he left May out there alone?

So he sighed and grabbed a hoodie from the haphazard pile of vaguely winter-related garments that had overtaken one of his couches. "Get me up there, JARVIS. And thanks."

"My pleasure, sir."

Tony didn't run out of the surface workshop; he waited for the elevator to close, then took a deep breath. The least he could do if he was going to screw up emotional support was to do it calmly. Then he finally stepped out into the brisk New York winter and made for the parking lot.

May's car wasn't the only one around, but she was the only person sitting in a car. As he approached, he could see that her face was very red and blotchy, and she had a torn tissue in her hands that looked like it had been through a snotty nightmare.

"JARVIS, unlock her door for me," he said softly, knowing the AI would pick it up over the phone.

May never noticed his approach, so she jumped in her seat when he opened the passenger-side door and slid in beside her.

"T-Tony!"

"Here." He dug in his pocket for a handkerchief, praying it wasn't one he'd used as a work rag. It wasn't — for once. "Old habit from mom."

May stared at him for a moment, then accepted the soft handkerchief and buried her face in it, her shoulders shaking. Tony guessed that she was trying desperately to stop crying, and that looked...really painful, actually.

"Look, I don't know where the boundaries are here," he said. "You want a hug, or you want me to just sit here pretending like I'm not worried?"

May let out an explosive sort of noise that also sounded painful but might have been related to a laugh. Then she unclicked her seatbelt and leaned sideways until her head hit his shoulder.

Tony accepted the wordless permission-slash-request and put an arm around her.

"Don't not cry on my account. I'm crap at this, but I'm not going to melt if you get emotional, Parker."

May might have nodded, or it was a side-effect of her trembling, and she went back to her weeping. But now Tony had an arm around her, and slowly she started to relax under his grip. Tony, if he was honest with himself, got kind of bored waiting for her to calm down so he filled up his brain with binomial equations and wiring diagrams. But she didn't need more than his presence and arm, apparently, and neither of those required his full attention anyway.

The thought came to him somewhere in the middle: This would be easier with Peter. And as soon as he thought it, he knew it was true, and he had no idea why it was.

But before he could wonder about it too much, May's breathing started to even out, and she began to straighten up again, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders even as she dabbed at her face with the now-soaked handkerchief.

"S-sorry about that, Tony."

He shook his head. "Not a problem. You okay?"

"No." And she made a tight-lipped smile. "But I can fake it again for a while."

She looked as if she was going to get out of the car, and Tony caught her by the elbow.

"Look, we can go inside if you want, but I didn't come out here to be a crying shoulder and not find out why you were crying."

May looked at him, then nodded. "Fine. You can help me carry stuff."

"Considering how long you were here, I hope you didn't have anything frozen in your groceries."

That startled a real laugh out of her. "No. Nothing that would spoil. Not this time, anyway."

Tony made a mental note to have JARVIS keep an eye on May and how long she sat around not putting away food that could spoil or go bad — and not to eat chicken she had cooked if he hadn't personally been assured of its time to refrigeration.

She only had a few bags and nothing was heavy, so they made quick work of the seven flights of stairs; and halfway up Tony's brain was basically on a repeating lament of Goddamnit why didn't I install an elevator already, this is ridiculous, how do normal people even do this, stairs went out with the pyramids.

Finally at the Parker apartment, he started the hot water for tea while May put away her groceries, generally trying to stay out of her way and making himself small and invisible so she had time to collect herself. That was an old skill, used for really different reasons around Howard Stark, but a useful one to repurpose in the case of emotional fragility.

When they both finally sat at the table with mugs of tea, May took a deep breath.

"It's...not long until the anniversary of Ben's death," she started. Her eyes misted over again. "And Ben...he loved Christmas. He loved the...the spirit of it. The joy."

Tony just nodded.

"I don't...I don't know how to do this for Peter," and her voice cracked on his name. "When Richard and Mary died, he was so little. And Ben...he knew. He got us all through it. That first Christmas...we'd had Peter for most of the year by then...and Ben made it special and beautiful without getting lost in his grief."

Tony's heart lurched. Even though neither May nor Peter blamed him for Ben's death, he would never be so kind to himself — he was the reason May was a widow and Peter had a single parent. And nothing he did would ever make up for it.

"We had...so many traditions." May stared into her tea. "And all the books...they say it helps to...to start new traditions. To honor the old but build new memories. And I…"

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked up at him.

"And you asked me...what Peter wants for Christmas...and I'm so sorry, Tony, but I wish it was Ben asking me. Because he would know what to do…"

She dissolved into crying again.

And suddenly Tony remembered being twenty-one years old in the middle of December and finding out that his parents were dead in a car accident. Honestly, he didn't remember anything between then and about mid-January. Everything in the interim was a booze-soaked haze of mania and crashing and some frenzied coding that eventually formed the basis of Dum-E's AI. Which probably explained a lot about why Dum-E was...Dum-E.

With a sick feeling, Tony wondered what last Christmas looked like for May and Peter.

His throat was dry as he spoke. "I wish...Ben was asking, too. May, if there were any way…"

"I know." She rubbed at her face, making it redder. "And it's not your fault no matter what. It just...it's so hard."

"I understand." He swallowed. "My parents...I was older than Peter, but I was still a kid. It nearly crushed me. I think I wouldn't have made it to February except for Rhodey stepping in."

May nodded. "I'm glad you had a friend." She wiped at her nose. "You're a good friend to Peter and me, too. We...I'm not sure we'd be doing as well without you here."

That made Tony feel many complicated things that circled pride but didn't land in it and hedged close to the same fierce, protective, adoring nameless thing that hovered over every thought he had of Peter — and apparently May, too.

Tony reached across the table to grip her hands. He was a tactile person by nature, and, as he had learned, so were both Parkers.

"Anything you can think of...anything that will help, the sky's the limit. You want to take Peter to Disneyworld, or my villa in Italy, or, hell, Asgard, and I will make it happen. I've got some pull with Thor."

May shook her head. "I appreciate that, Tony, but I...New York at Christmas is…"

"I get it." And he did. As one who had grown up under the majestic glow of the tree in Rockefeller Center, who had seen the Nutcracker every other year, who had walked the streets for the lights and the window dressings and the ornaments, he understood. The city lit up with all the warmth of a family hearth and all the trappings of the corniest Christmas movie ever made and it was real and tangible and irreplaceable. There was nowhere on earth like New York City at Christmas.

Even if it was, also, still New York, and therefore smelled funny when it wasn't snowy, and the poor city planning meant there was more trash than ever in the streets, and you still should never ever look up while on the sidewalk if you didn't want to stick out like a tourist inviting every pickpocket in the five boroughs to come visit you. That was also part of its hurried, messy charm.

"Besides," May said, collecting herself once more, "you have Pepper. You can't sneak out on Christmas on your girlfriend, Tony." She smiled. "And that is one lady I don't want to see you disappoint."

"Me, either." But he wasn't satisfied. "Okay. I'll make you a deal."

"Hmm?"

"I...I won't go big on presents for Peter, okay? Birthdays are more important anyway. Christmas...I don't know if I ever had a real one, but the Christmas you and Peter...and Ben believe in, that one is about people and memories more than stuff. Right?"

May nodded.

"So I'll...I'll get the kid something, but I'll work on the memories thing. Okay? You just tell me if you want it to be Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. And whichever one you pick, I'll make you a new tradition."

It was too big, too much, too intimate an imposition, and yet it was the only thing he could do. Because he wanted to see Peter Parker light up with that magic-at-Christmas glow he'd seen in movies but never known for himself. He wanted to see May's tears lose their bitterness — he knew better than to imagine she wouldn't cry anyway, but maybe it would be happy crying.

Tony had been the reason Ben was taken from them; he would give them back something.

"I have two conditions," May said finally.

Tony waited. Her two conditions, if past experience was anything to go by, would be interesting.

"First, make absolutely sure you are not ruining Pepper's or your own Christmas for us, Tony Stark, or so help me I'll make you eat an entire salad of mistletoe."

"Can you even eat mistletoe? Is that a thing?" Remembering that Peter was still at school so it was safe, he pulled out his phone and set it on the table. "JARVIS?"

"It is not. Most types of mistletoe are, in fact, quite toxic and can result in severe illness or death."

"Good, then it works as a threat," May said.

"Threat accepted," Tony said. "J, find me a spot in Pepper's calendar today. Apparently I need to make sure I don't ruin her Christmas or you're going to need a new boss."

"Understood, sir." The dryness of JARVIS's tone made May giggle a bit.

"Okay. That was one. What's the second condition?" Tony wanted to know.

"It's selfish, but…" She hesitated.

"Hey." Tony tapped on the table to get her attention. "I am unbelievably selfish. You're allowed to take a turn if you want."

"You're not selfish," May said.

Tony gave her a look.

"Fine. You can be very self-centered," May said, "but you aren't entirely self-absorbed. You care about people. Like me, and Peter. And what you've done for us…" She shook her head. "Just because you're selective about who you treasure doesn't mean you don't treat those you do care about as if they were worth the whole world to you."

Tony's throat was suddenly invaded by his heart and he had to sniff and cough to clear it. "Still not hearing this selfish-and-that's-okay condition, May."

Now May gave him a look, but answered. "If you can stand to have a pair of crying Parkers on you again, I think...it would do us good not to face the anniversary of Ben's death alone. We set each other off, and having you there might keep us from spiraling."

Almost as soon as she finished speaking, she was waving her hands.

"Never mind. That's a deeply unfair thing to ask, especially of you."

"I'll do it." And he knew he would hate it. He knew that. But he'd already seen Peter and May make each other cry after the Halloween dance, and he could only imagine how much worse it would be now. As uncomfortable as it made him — and it did — he didn't want them to fall without anyone to pick them up.

"Tony…"

"I said I'd do it and I will. Let me do this for you, and pay me back by enjoying whatever I put together for you for Christmas, okay?" He shrugged. "I can handle playing emotional referee for a night."

May's eyes were wet again. "Can I give you a proper hug?"

"Might as well," he said, keeping his voice casual. "Call it practice."

May pushed out of her chair and met Tony around the side of the table. She was a few inches shorter than Tony, so her forehead came to rest easily on his shoulder. She put her arms around his back and squeezed tight. Tony encircled her shoulders and held still.

"I meant it," she said softly. "I'm not sure we'd be doing this well if not for you. And I know you feel guilty even though I don't want you to."

He drew in a breath, but found he didn't have words.

"I believe that...bad things happen that no one expects or deserves. You can't stop them. You can't," she gave him a little jab, "put a suit of armor around the whole world and expect nothing to go wrong."

"I can try," Tony said, and May shushed him.

"Life's not about the bad. It's about the good you grow out of it." She leaned back so she could see his face. "It's not about Ben being gone. It's about the life we build after him. Ben is the last person who would want your guilt. But he'd be the first to welcome you to the family."

"I wish I had met him," Tony found himself saying.

"You have," May told him. "Every time Peter is more than I could ever be? That's Ben shining through. Ben and Richard and Mary. And when he's more than all of us, that's you. You're just as much a part of Peter as we are now."

Tony didn't have any answer to that, either, but May didn't expect one. She just squeezed him again and then let go and stepped away.

"I'm going to keep Peter home from school on the twentieth anyway. It's the Friday before break and he won't be able to concentrate." She shook out her hair. "I'll text you and let you know what we're doing. When we'll need you."

"I'll be there."

-==OOO==-

Pepper was surprised to get the meeting request from JARVIS for Tony, and mentally added an hour beyond what JARVIS scheduled for her. Typically Tony didn't come seeking her in the middle of the day, and even more rarely did he actively need to clear her calendar for it.

It didn't make her nervous because she knew Tony well enough to know not to get nervous until he gave her reason, but it did make her want to be prepared.

She opted to meet him in the penthouse, knowing that it would set him at ease to be in his space where no one could burst in, and she was just as pleased not to have to warn her two assistants to guard her door in case whatever Tony needed took a while. She was there before him — of course — so by the time he stepped off the elevator, she had already settled in with a glass of juice and had her shoes off.

"Need something more than that to drink?" he asked upon seeing her.

"No, thank you. Theoretically I'm going back to work after this."

She watched Tony do the mental calculus about a joke regarding drinking while working, then realize how much more ammunition she had on that subject than he did, and decide not to bother. She was almost proud of him for it. He, notably, grabbed juice himself and joined her on the couch.

"So," he said, "I...uh, promised May Parker not to ruin your Christmas."

"That's...good?" Pepper raised her eyebrows. "Thank you in advance."

"But I need to do something for them, Pep. Something big. I need to help them make new memories."

Pepper felt herself frowning. "You're going to have to give me a little more to go on."

"You know that Ben Parker died, right?"

She nodded.

"He died coming home from a memorial for me last December. On the twentieth."

"That...is new information," Pepper said. At once, she thought of the image of that sweet boy in the Iron Man suit — because while Tony kept that from the others he absolutely showed it off to her, as well as telling her all about the disaster of a dance afterwards — and tried to imagine how he could still bear to love Iron Man when…

And abruptly stopped that train of thought because she could tell from Tony's face that he was having it more than enough for both of them. Besides, she still loved Tony, too, and she got exposed to Extremis for it.

Pepper knew better than most that love can easily outshine pain, given the chance.

"I see," she said finally. "And you and the guilt…?"

"May wants me to stop it. I don't remember promising to do that, but this isn't about guilt. This is...they deserve better, Pep. They deserve a magical Christmas instead of a tragic one. Not a million presents, but something they can remember and feel."

Pepper was surprised at that, then thought about how much emotional work Tony had done in the last year. Not just because of and thanks to the Parkers, but on his own as well. Talking to Bruce. Stepping back from the life of Tony Stark and finding his way in a world of anonymity. Finding the courage to take the arc reactor from his chest. Giving her the space she requested, but never failing to support her.

"This year has been good for you," she found herself saying. "A year ago, I'm not sure you would have understood that."

"I wouldn't," he said. "I'm trying to do better. Be the person I wanted in my corner when I was a kid. Be the person I want you to have in yours." He took a swig of juice. "It's...not as easy as you all make it look, gotta be honest."

Pepper laughed. "Just as you have mastered everything else you set your mind to, I am sure you will graduate with honors from the school of emotional insight, too." Then she put a hand on his arm. "How can I help with the Parkers?"

"I want to plan something for them. But I'm…"

"Oh, I know," she said before he could come up with a way to end that sentence. Years as his PA meant Pepper was more aware than most of the fact that Tony could have a grand vision for things, but his execution on logistics other than engineering was typically zero. Especially event planning. "Okay. I can do that."

"But...I…"

Pepper willed her expression to remain still and serene; otherwise she was going to laugh in his face. Tony looked like a little boy asking for a puppy.

"I don't want Peter to know who I am," he said, and Pepper nodded; she knew that already. "But I don't want to do...whatever it is, whatever brilliant idea you've got up your sleeve, without you."

Pepper's heart melted. "Really?"

"Really." He took her hand. "God, Pep. One of these days I'm going to come clean to Peter and then I'm getting them to move in here if I have to kidnap them. Six months and I have no idea how I even existed before I had my regular time with that kid and May driving all these annoyingly good habits into me."

"Tony…"

"For the longest time, all I had was Rhodey. And then you. And Happy, I guess. But mostly Rhodey and you. I never had...what other people have."

"A family."

He nodded. "And now I have you and Rhodey, and Happy when he isn't being a pain in the butt, but I have May and Peter. And I can't let them go and I just…"

"Tony." Pepper gently put a hand on his cheek. "It's all right to want all the people you love to be part of the same family. To have them all together around you. That's...that's what we all feel when we love people. We want to hold them close, all of them. It's okay to feel that."

"You don't...you're not bothered?"

"You don't want to date May Parker, right?" she asked pointedly.

Tony's whole face contorted in a grimace. "You could not pay me to date that woman, Pep. I...I think of her like a sister kind of, and that is the limit."

Pepper chuckled. "Well, there you go. Then, actually, rather than being bothered, I'm excited."

Tony blinked.

"You've had them all to yourself for months, Tony! Finally I get to meet the two of them." She leaned close to him. "Honestly, rather than being at risk of ruining my Christmas, I can't imagine doing anything more perfect."

"We'll...Peter might recognize you. We'll have to…"

"I know." She cut him off. "Leave it to me. I'll protect your secret."

"Miss Potts," Tony said, and his eyes were all for her, full and admiring, "you are a legitimate miracle."

"Well, Mister Stark," she teased back, "I could hardly expect you to settle for anything less."

She leaned in to kiss him.