A/N: I might not post the next chapter on time tomorrow since I don't wanna stress myself out any more :) I hope you'll enjoy this, thank you again for your lovely comments and have a happy merry Christmas 3
There's something about Christmas time, something about Christmas time that makes you wish it was Christmas everyday
The music plays softly from the speakers in the living room when Tony turns the corner. So softly, in fact, that at first he thinks it's just in his head. He's still blinking away the sleep from his eyes but the sight he's met with makes a smile spread on his lips and it wakes up a part of him that he has come to recognize as parental fondness.
Peter is sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing a Christmas hat that jingles every time he moves his head and he is clutching a pillow to his chest, resting his chin on it while working on something on his StarkPad in concentration.
He is so deeply immersed in his own world that he doesn't notice Tony come closer and the fact that his Spidey sense (that's what he calls it anyway, Tony would've named it something much cooler, obviously) isn't alerting him to the older man's presence is an unrivalled sign of trust.
It's weird being granted something this monumental without much fanfare, without a word, hell, without even a second thought. This kid trusts him even though the world has shown him time and time again how fatal that can end. The thought makes him pause for a moment and just watch Peter's eyes flicker over the screen, blue light reflecting in his eyes, deleting a few lines and retyping them again.
And, for the record, he doesn't condone sneaking up on your kids for anything because they have a right to have their small little secrets (as hard as it is to let them be) but he wants to see how much he can advance before the teenager realizes he's not alone anymore.
As it turns out, Peter is really far gone and he catches a glimpse of the title of the document he's been working on before he looks up.
A Christmas bucket list.
"Oh, hey Mister Stark." The kid's eyes brighten instantly when they meet his and a worry that he didn't know was there, settles and vanishes, knowing that he is fine, albeit a little more tired than usual.
He smiles up at him without a trace of the horror he has seen on that same face just a few hours earlier and Tony feels himself smile back, the most natural reaction in the world.
To see the joy in the children's eyes, the way that the old folks smile says that Christmas will never go away
Maybe he should invite this Bryan Adams guy over for a live concert someday. Maybe Peter would like that.
"Morning squirt," he greets him with a ruffle of his hair and plops down next to him, enjoying the familiar weight that is being pressed into his side when the teenager leans back, resting against him with a lazy smile. "What are you up to?"
He's asking lightly, deliberately giving him the option to turn the device away from him shouldn't he feel comfortable sharing but he doesn't. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised anymore but he still is.
Peter's legs come up against his chest and he turns the tablet to show Tony the list without a word.
Christmas bucket list
- write a letter to Santa Claus
- make hot chocolate
- decorate a Christmas tree
- build a snowman
- make a Christmas playlist and listen to it all day
- donate to a good cause
- watch Christmas movies in pajamas
- wrap presents
- go ice skating
- volunteer
- make a gingerbread house
- take a family Christmas photo
When he skims over the list the song changes to an old, slow version of Little Drummer Boy and for some reason the combination makes a lump form in his throat.
"Breakfast's not on the list," he notes in an attempt to keep the mood casual and not slip into anything heavy just yet. He wants today to be relaxing and nice, enjoying it with Peter who has been looking forward to spending the weekend before Christmas at his place for weeks.
The teenager giggles and turns his head so he's resting more comfortably on his shoulder. His warm breaths tickle the older man's neck and, on instinct, his hand comes up to brush away the unruly curls from his forehead.
"That's 'cause it's part of the Keep The Spider Alive- protocol and you're in charge of that," he points out sweetly, scrunching up his nose adorably when his hair tickles him, "so I'm not worried, ya know?"
Oh, he knows. It doesn't make dealing with the utter and unconditional trust he puts him in any easier, though.
"Pancakes?"
"Duh. I'm starving."
Peter slips off the couch and dumps the tablet on the coffee table before skittering over to the kitchen, radiating a ridiculous abundance of energy considering Tony hasn't even had coffee yet. Somehow that's okay. Somehow, when it's Peter talking his ear off, he takes it in stride and even finds himself enjoying someone else's voice in his head for once.
I have no gift to bring pa rum pum pum pum, that's fit to give our king pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum
He follows after him and together they get to work on preparing breakfast. While Peter sets the table for two, telling him all about May's dinner plans for Tuesday he flips the pancakes and lets the bacon sizzle in the pan, enjoying the simplicity of it all.
"When will Miss Potts be back?" Peter asks as they sit down and he's already helping himself to his first serving.
Tony watches fondly how the kid piles more and more pancakes on his stack and pours a truckload maple syrup on top before getting his own food and replying, "Sometime around five maybe. I think they're supposed to be at the spa at around three. Why? Are you worried it'll get boring with just me keeping you company?"
Truth be told, he is a little worried about that himself.
They spent most of yesterday in the lab and, when they reemerged Pepper was there, coaxing them into playing a few board games until it was time for bed. But Peter has declared today a Christmassy day and the superhero has little to no point of reference for how those look or what he's supposed to do to make something Christmassy. Why did he think this was a good idea again?
"Nah," the teenager mumbles through a mouthful of bacon, "Just gotta plan ahead. I was thinking of scheduling the movie watching for the evening anyway, I bet Miss Potts would like to join."
Tony grins and, as always, it's ridiculously easy to fall back into the familiar pattern. "Oh we're scheduling things now? Do tell what else we're getting up to today."
"Well," declares the Spiderling seriously, pushing away his plate to rest his elbows on the table and then rest his head on his folded hands, "we're starting off with writing a letter to Santa Claus because I totally forgot to do that all month and it's unacceptable."
The way he says it, so honestly appalled by the gross oversight on his part, makes the billionaire relax into the moment a bit more. This is still Peter and he might not know how to handle Christmas but he has gotten pretty good at handling the teenage vigilante.
His entire being is radiating sincerity and his big brown eyes are bright with excitement when Tony meets his gaze. It's hard to deny him anything when he's like this – happy and enthusiastic. So, as a general rule, he doesn't even try to. Which might not be the best advice parenting- wise but, damn it, it's Christmas, right? Don't people do that on Christmas?
"Are we gonna send it to the gift factory, too?" he asks because what does he have to lose? His dignity? Not fucking likely.
Peter looks at him as if he's grown a third head which is, frankly, insulting but he tries not to let it worry him too much. "No, Mister Stark," he says eventually and he actually has the audacity to roll his eyes at his mentor. "We're not writing wishes. That'd be way too late anyway. Where would he get our presents on a Sunday?"
That is obviously the biggest question in Tony's mind right now, as well. Where would the Great Santa Claus get the presents that are quite obviously already hidden under the tree on a Sunday of all days?
"No, we're just gonna write him to thank him for all the good things that have happened so far."
How does this much pure goodness even get channeled into a single person, Tony wonders for the umpteenth time.
"Of course, what else would we write about," he agrees solemnly, fondness shining through the hint of irony, as he gives a nod of his head and watches Peter beam back at him. "So what are we doing after writing our letters?"
The plan is rather simple, really. They're going to build a gingerbread house and listen to Christmas songs and sing along to them and after that spend their evening cuddled up on the couch to watch Christmas movies until they fall asleep.
"I'm not singing, though," he tells me straight away, "I don't know any Christmas songs anyway."
"Awh, Mister Stark, I'll teach you."
Incidentally that is what he ends up writing his letter to Santa Claus about – Peter teaching him the lyrics to Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree.
It's hilarious, watching the kid genius try to get the notes just right and, for the life of him, not quite managing to. He's got troubles with the melody and the rhythm, too, and the longer Tony listens, the fuzzier he starts to feel.
Only when he pulls him aside and upstairs to the grand piano and starts playing the notes of the song from a sheet F.R.I.D.A.Y. pulled from the internet – a lot more professionally than Peter's sad attempt at humming the melody if he might say so – does he go quiet.
In his letter he writes about how thankful he is for this idiot of a kid that hangs on to his every word, whether he's talking about a particle accelerator, a recipe or teaching him how to play Jingle Bells on the piano.
(And he might make sure the letter mysteriously ends up in said kid's room at the end of the day because Tony Stark can't talk emotions but delivery errors do occur and Peter deserves to read it more than some mythical creature anyway.)
As expected the gingerbread-house building ends in a fairly serious catastrophe.
Flour, raw dough and icing are covering almost every open surface of the kitchen when they're done but seeing how proud the kid is of their engineering skills (not like Tony is an engineer or anything) is worth all the cleaning up they have to do afterwards.
When Pepper gets back, all rosy cheeks and relaxed posture, and the teenager is ambushing her with a hug, high on sugar and Christmas and covered in various backing ingredients, he revels in how normal she reacts to it, how she pulls him closer, presses a kiss to his temple and inquires about his day.
Now, with his fiancée cuddled into one side and his kid buried in the other and the opening of It's A Wonderful Life playing on the screen in a dark room only illuminated by their Christmas tree, Tony's heart is almost bursting with gratefulness.
He can't really put it into words and he doubts that any letter to some guy on a North Pole is ever going to be enough, but he tries to show them anyway when he pulls them closer and tells them he loves them.
It's enough for now. It's what he thinks Christmas is probably about; love and family.