A/N: Look! Halfway done! And I'm super tired but I hope you enjoy this :) x
"I need your help, kid."
If he's not completely mistaken – which he rarely is – the loud thumb he hears coming from the kid's bedroom is a body that has previously been sitting on the ceiling and has dropped to the floor rather unceremoniously. He cringes at the sound but at least the following spluttering is enough indication for him to know that he probably didn't kill himself with his acrobatics.
"Mister Stark? What are you doing here?"
The teenager's cheeks are flushed and he's in sweats and an oversized hoodie. His hair is flailing in every direction, not being held together by gel for once, and he has a big red mark on his chin from where he undoubtedly propped up his head.
He looks positively endearing and Tony can't help the smile that, at this point, seems to be his default reaction to anything Peter Parker.
"Like I said," he says in an attempt to not melt into a puddle of parental goo by wiping away the chocolate smear on his nose, "I need your help. Are you free?"
Of course he's free. Tony already checked in with May who gave him her blessing with a smile a little too knowingly for his taste.
"Ye- Yeah, I'm free," the kid perks up, hand coming up to rub his eyes before carding through his messy curls. "Whattaya need? Wait –" he frowns, eyes widening, "Am I going to need my suit? Do you need Spider-Man's help?"
The billionaire clicks his tongue in amusement, "You know, you really should stop thinking of Spider-Man as a separate person. With that being said, I am in need of Peter Parker's help today."
"Oh, okay," he crosses his arms in front of his chest, overlong sleeves hiding his hands completely. "What do you need?"
Tony's not sure whether he seems disappointed at him not requesting Spider-Man or excited because he needs Peter Parker. The kid's face is surprisingly sober, not letting on much, which in itself is extremely odd. Peter Parker, not displaying every single thought flitting through his head? Unheard of.
"It's a surprise," he tells him because he loves seeing the confused wrinkles on his forehead and the way his eyes flit over his face, obviously trying to think of different options and, probably, coming up blank.
He taps the watch on his wrist. "But it's a time sensitive surprise. Come on, squirt. We don't wanna get there in the dark. So," he makes a show of checking the time, "we only got a little over an hour left. Better get going."
Peter doesn't need to be told twice. Forgotten is the drowsy sleepiness and back is the energetic boy who can't stop asking him where they're going, what they're doing, if it's cool, if it's hard, if he needs a scarf,.. Mister Staaaaaaark, tell me, pleaaassseee.
Not ten minutes later and they're in the car, speeding off to one of the better Tree Stands in Manhattan.
While Peter is chatting, Tony is taking the opportunity to watch him whenever they're coming to a stand at a red light or get stuck in traffic. The boy looks relaxed and excited, a lot like he did yesterday after their bumper car ride. (Which he, much to Tony's chagrin, did pretty much best him at.) May has told him about Peter's mood swings that have started yesterday, though.
It's why they're going Christmas tree shopping in the first place. Maybe it would cheer him up.
After all, the kid is almost ridiculously enthusiastic about anything Christmas- related, and if that's all he needs to brighten his mood? Well, who's Tony to deny that boy anything?
So, going against everything he has believed in for the past 27 years, he is going to try is damned hardest to make this Christmas as enjoyable for Peter as possible and, he has decided he's going to love every minute of it.
When they get to the right address and out of the car, Tony studies the kid's stance – a little unsure and hesitant at first, looking a little lost – and how it changes the moment his eyes land on the collection of Christmas trees – he stands a little more upright, eyes wide with wonder and inquiry.
Really? He seems to be asking to which Tony responds with a chuckle and an arm slung around the kid's shoulder.
"I would've taken you upstate or, I don't know, to Canada maybe so you could actually choose your tree and help cutting it down," he tells him conspiratoriailly, stearing them to the entrance, "But that would've blown our time frame, so I hope this is okay."
He can only just make out the enthusiastic nodding underneath the teenager's hat and scarf but he leans into his side as a quiet thank you. He squeezes his shoulder as a 'you're welcome' in return.
They're walking along the rows to look at the bigger trees, chatting about pros and cons of each one and Tony finds he is actually enjoying picking out a tree and looking forward to putting it up. Who would've thought?
After their sixth tree, Peter stops and grabs a hold of the sleeve of his coat, effectively stopping him from moving along to the next one.
"I thought you hated Christmas," he says, voice a little muffled by the huge scarf that is covering his neck up to his lower lip. His cheeks are flush with cold but he doesn't seem to be feeling cold just yet.
Tony nods and lets out a deep breath, taking a moment to watch the fog whirl and fade to get his thoughts in order. "But you love it," he decides to say eventually because it's as true as he's going to get without getting too emotional. He thinks Peter understands him anyway when he leans forward to wrap his arms around him, hugging him tightly.
He buries his cold nose into Tony's neck like he always does and his warm breath tickles the billionaire when he mumbles his thank you in there, too.
"Welcome, kiddo," he whispers, gently patting his back before clearing his throat to clear up some of The Emotion. "Now, let's get that tree picked so we can start decorating before your bedtime."
At that the kid lights up once more, practically bolting for the next one.
It takes another half an hour and the sky is already turning dark, giving way to the lights and decorations all throughout the city when they make their way back to the tower with their new charge.
Maneuvering a just short of three meter tall tree into the elevator proves to be more of a struggle than anticipated but they make it, with only a few more cuts and fir needle on them than they had before.
Now, decorating the things is a different story altogether.
"I can't believe you bought these, Mister Stark."
The teenager looks adorably affronted what with his oversized Christmas Ironman hoodie, sitting on the floor cross-legged staring at the box with tree hangers Tony got from the Christmas market earlier that day.
He has made sure to get everyone Peter pointed out yesterday at least once and then some. Of course there are several fairy lights in different make and color – because what does he know about fairy lights, honestly – as well as candles and tinsel - because he read that is a thing, though he cannot fathom as to why.
"You've lost your mind," Peter tells him firmly even as his eyes brighten at the star shaped tree topper he's pulling from its box. "But I think we can make a halfway decent Christmas tree with this."
"Oh," he laughs, "Think we can make Pepper proud?"
Peter stares at him, eyes wide and a little scared. "Oh god. It will never be good enough for Miss Potts, Mister Stark."
The hopelessness in his eyes at the thought breaks Tony and he keels over with laughter. "Don't – Don't worry," he hiccups, "She- she'll probably blame – blame it on –on me any – anyway. If we tell her you did it," he grins, leaning over to ruffle his hair and taking the time to catch his breath, "She's going to adore it."
"Thank god," the kid breathes out, then frowns, "Now, how are we going to get the decorations to the top?"
"And here I thought you were the one with sticky powers."
That makes Peter perk up. "SUPER HERO TEAM UP," he declares loudly as if he's a sport commentator, "Iron- Man and Spider-Man decorate most beautiful tree in all of New York."
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy-"
"Kid, calm down," Tony orders him softly and takes a step forward, metal clanking against the floor. "You're going to be alright, okay? I'll be right here."
"But," the teenager stammers, looking up at him with the widest eyes he has ever seen, "what if I break it?"
"Break what? I think the suit can –"
"I mean the tower," Peter whispers mortified, "What if I break the tower?"
That makes Tony laugh although, to be fair it's probably not too far off if he thinks back to how he started out. "You won't, Peter, relax."
"Are you really sure?"
"Am I sure that I'm letting you fly in one of the Iron-Man suits to put up the star at the top?" he asks rhetorically, grinning when Peter responds with a serious nod, "Yeah, I'm a hundred percent sure."
With another string of 'ohmygodohmygodohmygod' Peter takes a tentative step forward and, once the face plate is down, puts more and more power into the thrusters until –
Until he's flying.
He's hovering in the air a little unsteadily, wobbling to either side before getting the hang of just how much is needed for what movement.
Tony's still on the ground, his own suit nothing more than a safety measure in case the kid actually falls, but he's not surprised that it only takes him two minutes of getting used to before he's soaring through the living room, whooping with every turn.
"Alright you nuisance," he calls up, throwing the star in the air for Peter to catch, "Time to get some work down."
Very carefully Peter maneuvers himself over to the tree, mindful not to accidentally fly into it and, with steady hands flies closer until he's right next to the top and slowly lowers the last piece of decoration onto it.
"How's it look?" he calls down to Tony who can't help but feel weirdly emotional about hearing his kid's voice through the Iron-Man armor.
"Perfect," he yells back against the repulsor sounds and when he goes to turn on the fairy lights after Peter has already landed next to him once more, he can't help but agree with himself.
The tree is perfect. The decorations are perfect. Today has been perfect. This kid is perfect.
And, maybe, Christmas isn't all that bad if he's getting to spend it like this.