Mmmmfmfmfm so I was drinking hot chocolate and eating a candy cane while writing this so I was feeling super christmasy. Enjoy!!

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It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like the snow. He loved it, actually. Pristine white powder that can make the entire world seem pure and perfect, even for just a little while. The freezing flakes that bring endless school days to a halt and are each unique in their own ways. Really, what was there to not like about snow?

Apparently the fact that it is very... very cold. That part isn’t fun, at all. Especially considering that, less than twenty-four hours ago, Tony had been digging out Peter’s near frozen body from a snow bank after a mission gone wrong.

Stupid evil snowmen.

That’s right folks. Thanks to his spidery-ness, he can’t thermoregulate. Which means he can’t withstand temperatures more extreme than normal. Which also means no more snow days.

Peter sighs and takes another small sip of his hot chocolate. He pulls the blanket up a little tighter around his shoulders and sinks into the couch. Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes to think.

The cabin is filled with the scent of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies. He can hear Morgan and Tony yelling outside as they play in the snow. Tony is yelling at Gerald for some reason. Again.

Peter opens his eyes and sets the hot chocolate on the coffee table. He turns his gaze towards the kitchen and smiles.

Mom Pepper is making him soup (even though he said he was perfectly fine), probably chicken noodle. She reaches over the counter to grab something and when her hand meets air, she suddenly pauses. In an instant she blinks away her confusion and smiles. Normally there was a small tray full of candy canes and mints, just incase Pepper ever felt self-indulgent.

Pepper turns back to the soup and instead pops a jelly bean in her mouth. She bites her lip as she remembers she banned candy canes from the house ever since Peter ate one and then collapsed infront of them, seizing.

Yeah. Spiders don’t like peppermint either.

Peter burys his head between his knees and pulls the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. He’s a nuisance. He should be home with May, not intruding on this perfect family’s Christmas. Not sitting on their couch or drinking their hot chocolate, using their blanket, or even being in their house whatsoever. He doesn’t belong.

Though, it’s not like he has much of a choice.

May has been hospitalized ever since they snapped back into existence. People reappeared in the middle of construction sites, midair, and in tons of other dangerous situations that hadn’t been dangerous 5 years ago. Well, May had been searching the city for him and just happened to be crossing the street when she dusted.

Peter wipes away the forming tears and bites his lip. She has to get better. The doctor said she was lucky and could possibly be out of the hospital in February.

But.

She still hasn’t woken up from her coma. In reality Peter knows the doctor didn’t lie to him at the time. May had just gotten out of surgery when the doctor spoke with him. But Peter really, really wanted to be live she would be okay. And they could celebrate every holiday they’ve missed and everything would be fine.

But it might not be.

She might not wake up.

Ever.

So, Peter was stuck intruding. Stuck being a nuisance. The least he could do was stay out of their way while they-

“MORGAN STARK! Don’t you dare bring that snowball in the house, DON’T YOU DARE-”

Peter looks up when he hears Tony fall to the ground outside with an ‘oof!’. The door is suddenly thrown open and Morgan comes sprinting through in her snow gear. Before Peter can really register what’s happening, Morgan is jumping on top of him.

He catches the little girl mid-air, causing the blanket to fall off his shoulders. He sits his sister the girl on his lap but nearly drops her when his sweatpants get covered in now melting snow.

“Mo Mo, what are you doing in here? Last I checked, the snow is supposed to stay outside the house.” Morgan turns to him with a face of only pure betrayal. Her nose sncruches up and she pushes his shoulder.

“Petey you sound like daddy. I just wanted a juice pop! And they don’t make juice pops outside the house!”

Pepper suddenly peaks around the corner, eyeing the her daughter who tracked snow in the house. “Morgan Stark, it is the middle of winter. No juice pops until it’s at least above freezing outside.”

“But momma, juice pops are the best in the whole wide world!”

Pepper shakes her head and gives Peter a pleading look. Peter shifts Morgan on his legs and boops her nose. “Weird, I thought cookies were the bestest in the world?”

Morgan throws her head back in tantrum and sticks out her tongue. Regardless she turns to lean into Peter’s chest. He chooses to ignore the fact that his sweats are now soaked and his shirt is seconds from suffering the same fate. Instead he focuses on her wrapping her, now ungloved, hands around to his back. She sticks her freezing little hands in his shirt and bury’s her head into his chest.

Peter takes off her hat and rests his chin on her head as he rubs her back. “You cold Mo Mo?”

Morgan squeezes him tighter and mumbles out a “mhm”.

He reaches forward slightly and grabs his hot chocolate. “Hey, Mo, want some of my hot chocolate? It’ll get you nice and warm so you can go outside and hit daddy in the face with snowballs.”

Morgan lifts her head from his chest and lets go of his back to reach for the hot chocolate. She counts the marshmallows that haven’t melted and brings the warm liquid to her lips. Once she finishes the drink, she sighs and leans back onto Peter’s chest.

He watches as her eyes slowly grow heavier and heavier. She slips off her boots and curls completely into Peter’s lap. He takes the empty mug from her and gently sets it on the coffee table. Peter slips off her jacket and snow pants so she’s left in her pajamas from the morning.

Peter moves to get off the couch so he can set the the little girl down to sleep, but she instantly pulls back into his chest. She tiredly opens her eyes and whines. “Peter don’ go. You’ warm.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he lays back down on the couch. He moves Morgan on top of his chest and she instantly wraps herself around him. Peter smiles and grabs his previously forgotten blanket. “Here ya go Mo. Wrap up like a burrito and take a nap.”

Morgan takes the blanket? But instead of wrapping herself up she pulls it over the both of them. Then she burys her face into the side of Peter’s neck. “You gotta stay warm too bubba.”

At her words, Peter’s heart leaps in his chest. She considered him family. But why? He’s just a nuisance!

“Hey Mo Mo what do you-”

Peter quickly realizes the girl had dozed off. He pushes away any thoughts of doubt he’d had before and just pulls the little girl, no, his sister closer. He gives her a small kiss on the head and lightly rubs her back.

Suddenly, Tony comes stomping through the door. “Damnit Gerald! Can’t believe my Alpaca ate my glove. That little shit.”

Tony is covered nearly head to toe in snow and is wearing a half eaten glove. The man takes off his snow gear and moves into the kitchen. He snatches a cookie and gives Pepper a kiss. Without turning around, he calls out to Peter.

“Hey Pete.”

Peter looks to Morgan as she slightly shifts, then replies. “Yeah?”

Tony grabs a fresh cup of coffee but still doesn’t turn. “Should come outside and have a snowball fight with us.”

“Uhm right now isn’t the best time. I don’t really feel like-”

“Mhm cause you know you’re gonna lose huh.”

Peter rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket up a little more around Morgan’s shoulders. He catches Pepper smiling at them from the kitchen. He points to Tony and then makes the spins his finger by his head to show that ‘he’s crazy’.

Pepper gives a breathless laugh and nudges Tony. The man turns to his wife and finally catches sight of his children. Tony smiles and shakes his head. “Kid you are never getting her off you.”

Pet smiles, still rubbing the little girl’s back. “Y’know, that’s alright. That’s what big brothers are for, right?”

Tony suddenly feels a swell of pride in hearing that. Peter final considered himself part of the family. The man nods and stares at his kids.

“Sure is, buddy. Sure is.”

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Bonus:

~Ten minutes later~

“HEY EVERYONE! Harley has arrived! Peter get your ass off the- ope never mind. Anyways.. shit do I smell cookies? Mom I swear if there’s raisins in them-”

Tony sighs. “Aaaand there’s kid number 3.”

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Me, writing an angsty af fic that’ll come out just before Christmas:

Chapter 1: Drifting

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If you had asked Peter a year ago where he would be today, he might’ve said something along the lines of dead in an alley. Or maybe, on a lighter note, hanging out with the AcaDeca team and MJ. Or leading the Avengers! He certainly would not have said floating aimlessly in space.

They’ve been on the Milano for a little over six days... probably. Time is a weird concept. Especially when you have nothing but the never-ending black abyss out the window and an angry blue woman to keep you company. Though, when it comes to sleep, Peter knows the exact amount he’s gotten.

None.

He's tried, honestly! But his brain seems to have decided that sleep is no longer an option. Trauma can do that to someone. Peter thinks he should be used to it by now. What with losing his parents, Uncle Ben, and now… he should be used to it.

But he isn’t. He isn’t used to the nights that end with him screaming himself awake in a fit of tears. He isn’t used to Nebula shaking him from his daze. He isn’t used to the half an hour of shaking and sobbing with nobody to familiar to cling to. He isn’t used to the agonizing pain that takes over his body when his senses overload after crying.

He isn’t used to anything anymore.

The nightmares never change. They always begin on Titan. Always.

Tony always appears in front of him, then crumbles to dust as Peter clings to him. Because he can’t lose him too. He won’t. But then Tony is gone, and Peter has to scramble to keep his ment- his father’s ashes from blowing away. Just as Peter gathers them all to mourn, he’s gone.

Then somehow he’s back on Earth, outside of his and May’s apartment. As soon as he opens the door he kicks over a pile of dust. He kicks over his aunt. His Aunt May, the strong and beautiful woman that raised him when the world seemed determined to end them, reduced to a pile of ash on the carpet.

And, of course, just before he startles awake, Ben shows up. Never in his life had Peter ever seen Ben scream at someone. Now he sees it every night. He reminds Peter of what a disappointment he is. How Tony should be alive. How Peter should be dead. How it was Peter’s fault for not getting the gauntlet from Thanos.

Then, without fail, he wakes up and cries with the blue space assassin woman until he falls back into unconsciousness. Then it starts all over again.

Nebua, for being a space assassin, isn't nearly as scary as she says she is. She's helped him through his nightmares, cleaned up his wounds, and has always given him the better rations. Alternatively, he's tried helping her feel… alive. Less machine, more… being? It was obviously hard at first. She would instantly close herself off and move away from him. Telling him to “mind your own business, unless you like being headless”.

So, you might ask, how has a sixteen-year-old mutant earthling managed to humanize one of the most dangerous women in the entire galaxy? The answer is simple: Paper Football.

"Wraa!!" Nebula growls, her metal hand curling into a fist. Her other hand grips her water glass until it groans under the pressure.

Peter, who’s spider sense had spiked, smiles lightly and picks up the small paper triangle. "It's cool Ms. Nebula! This game is kind of hard. My friend Ned and I play this aaaall the time when we get bored. So I'm basically, like, an expert." He hands her the paper football again and positions his fingers in the shape of a field goal.

Nebula flicks the paper, but it veers to the right. She shows nearly no weakness, but folds and nervously bites her lip. Peter can see she’s expecting… something. Punishment? Probably. Honestly he isn’t too surprised, unfortunately, considering who her dad is. "I would like to try again." She mumbles.

Peter smiles a little wider and picks up the paper triangle. He quickly fixes one of the corners then hands it back to her. "Yeah go ahead!"

Nebula takes it, she nervously eyes Peter but quickly buries her nervousness. A new determination grows and she flicks it. It sails through the finger goal, and Peter could swear that her eyes grew 3x bigger. He lets out a surprised laugh and leans back with his arms up. "Oh my Thor! Ms. Nebula you won!"

It takes a second for her to process it, but once Nebula realizes what he’s said her mouth twitches up into a near smile. Though she never does smile, Peter can tell how happy she is when she finally lets out a breath. "This was… fun."

Peter rests his elbows on the table and moves his hands around excitedly as he speaks. "Yeah, it's really good to help pass the time! I’ve never played with someone as good as you! And I’ve played this, like, a whole bunch. Mr. Stark and I…” Peter pauses. The black pit in his chest suddenly grows larger, “We uhm.. used to play it. A lot."

Both of their smiles fade as the weight of Peter’s words set in. They sit in an awkward silence, each finding something else to look at, before Peter speaks up again. "Ms. Nebula… how long do you think we'll be here?"

Nebula shuts her eyes, refusing to look at him, and breathes sharply out her nose. "Do not call me Ms. Nebula. Also…” She sighs “ I am not sure. The fuel is running out, fast. One of the processors is acting up and… food is getting low."

Peter nods solemnly and turns to the window. Basically, they have two options. Either shoot straight to earth in a shitty ship and hope they don't die. Or go to the nearest planet and hope the aliens there aren't hostile. So, in all reality, they’re doomed. He runs his fingers through his curls and sighs. ‘Oh Thor, I so need a shower.’

He looks down at his web-shooters. He presses a small button and a little web-cartridge pops out. Peter puts a hand over his mouth and tries to hold back his tears. The ashes in the cartridge spin as he turns it in his fingers.'What would Mr. Stark do?'

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If you had asked Peter three days ago where he would be today he probably would have said dying. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have been wrong.

Peter winces as he shifts against the wall. He takes a deep, bone rattling breath, and shuts his eyes. Never in a million years had he thought this is how he would go. He knew being Spiderman would most likely catch up to him someday. He’d bleed out in an alley or be kidnapped by some psycho. Which, now that he thinks about it, is pretty gruesome. Though, slowly fading out billions of miles from home in a spaceship with a blue robot woman isn’t much better. It sounds like something straight out of Star Wars. Ned would be so jealous.

Well, not of Peter dying. That’s kind of an issue. A big issue.

Though, he can’t say it was unexpected. Both he and Nebula knew he might not make it to Earth. When Nebula finally announced that the fuel had run out, as well as the food, he knew he was screwed. But now, as they float aimlessly through space, all he can think about is May.

He never did give her a proper goodbye all those days (weeks?) ago. If only he could hug her again, and smell her sweet honey scent, and tell her he loves her over and over until he passes out from lack of oxygen. And he will, as soon as they get home. If she’s even still around. If Peter even makes it that long. Suddenly, he gets an idea.

Peter drags his tongue across his cracked lips and gives a small sigh, then activates his nanite mask. He hasn’t activated it since… well, it’s been a while. So, as he focuses on the nanites forming over his face, it’s slightly startling when Karen speaks. “Hello Peter. Your vitals seem extremely low. Shall I engage in Tattletale Protocol?”

Peter bites his upper lip. There’s no tears to hold back anymore, so he can’t cry no matter how much he wants to. He’s been in so much agony that he doesn’t even remember when the tears just stopped flowing.

Ever since the shut down, every fiber in his bones had throbbed from malnutrition and hunger. Now his skin hangs limp where once youthful and strong muscles had been. Peter knows his healing can do nothing to help either. If anything, it’s making it worse. Though, with every stabbing pain, he’s reminded that the hole in his heart where he’d held Mr. Stark aches even more.

“No Karen,” he rattles out another shaky breath then continues, “I- I don’t think Mr. Stark will be able to ah… to answer right now. You know what would be really… really awesome though?”

The A.I. is silent for a moment then, in a somehow more solemn tone, “I can do anything you wish Peter. Please proceed.”

“Could you.. Could you please start a voice recording?”

“Of course Peter.” I takes a second, then a small flashing light appears in the array of holograms in front of his eyes. Peter licks his lips again and rests his head back against the wall.

“You may begin Peter.”

“Oh uhm.. okay... Hey May. I know you ah- you’re most likely searching the world for me right now. Making sure I’m not… you know.. gone. Well, I mean, that’s as long as you’re still around I guess. If you find this then, um, just know that I love you. So much. And uhm.. Please tell Ned that I love him too… he- he’s my best friend and I wouldn’t be here without him. I love you both so.. So much. More than anything. Oh! And MJ too. I never got to tell her to her face but… I love her too. Anyways… I guess this is goodbye.” Peter pauses and takes another rattled breath. “When I drift off, I’ll think of you guys. It’s always you guys.”

Peter sniffles. As he moves to sit up a cough racks his small frame. His back slams against the wall as he tries to sit up. “Karen uh… can you- can you end it? The um… the recording.”

The blinking light suddenly disappears and the mask retracts. Peter’s vision grows spotty while his eyes readjust to the dim emergency lights. His starts swimming as the world tips sideways, and then, he’s floating. Like a puppet having its strings cut, he lists sideways limplessly. Before he can hit the ground, metallic hands gently catch him by the shoulders. He’s propped back upright and a cold finger brushes a curl away from his eyes. His vision clears slightly and Nebula’s worried face softens as she realizes he recognizes her..

She gives him a small squeeze on the shoulder, and smiles. “It is okay Peter. I know you’re tired.”

Peter gives her the best smile he can muster. She runs a hand through his hair and then puts her arms under him. She easily lifts him into the air and carries him across the ship. Nebula gently places him in Quill’s Captain Chair and makes sure he’s comfortable. As soon as she is satisfied, she goes back to the main area. Nebula begins working on… who knows what. Though, honestly, Peter really couldn’t care less.

Everything just feels… floaty. Is that a word? FlOatyyy. It’s a funny word.

His eyes are floaty now too. So, so floaty…

They’re floating away! Up and up… and up. They’re going somewhere dark.

Peter really doesn’t like the dark.

Maybe the bright lady in the window can save his eyes before they float away. He really needs his eyes back…

Maybe they’ll come back…

When he wakes up…

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Hey you.

Yeah you.

Guess what?

I’m posting Chptr. 1 of The Shoes We Fill Tonight

No?