December 25, 2012. Christmas Day.
Up in the penthouse of Avengers Tower, the holiday hadn't been entirely swallowed by corporate consumerism. The primary evidence of this was the fact that Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist, had catered the Avengers' first official Christmas party entirely with Domino's Pizza and Burger King.
It was a quiet, uneventful afternoon. For a team used to fighting alien invasions and demonic incursions, a boring day was the ultimate luxury.
"I just don't get it, Tony," Janet van Dyne muttered, picking a slice of pepperoni off her pizza. "You're a billionaire. You own Stark Towers in seventeen different time zones. You literally have your name printed on merchandise. Why are we eating fast food for Christmas dinner?"
Pepper Potts walked into the lounge, holding a glass of champagne. She hadn't been around the Tower much since the Battle of New York, but she offered Janet an exasperated smile. "It's not just a Christmas thing, Janet. It's an every-day thing."
Tony sprawled across the expensive leather sofa, taking a massive bite of a Double Whopper. "When you've been stuck in a cave in Afghanistan, trust me, a greasy American cheeseburger is the apex of culinary achievement," Tony mumbled with his mouth full. "And honestly, after saving the world, it hits the spot. Look at the big guy. He's thrilled."
Janet glanced over at the Hulk. The massive green behemoth was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, shoving three cheeseburgers into his mouth simultaneously. He looked like he was in absolute heaven.
"So, Thor," Tony said, pointing a fry at the Asgardian. "Where's Jane today?"
Thor leaned against the floor-to-ceiling glass window, dwarfing the double-bacon cheeseburger in his massive hand. He chewed thoughtfully. "The hospital is severely understaffed for the holiday. Jane volunteered to take the emergency rotation so the others could be with their families."
"She's a good egg," Tony said.
Hank Pym sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know T'Challa is tied up in Wakanda, but where are Steve and Peter?"
Tony crumpled his burger wrapper into a greasy ball and tossed it perfectly into a wastebasket across the room. "They're out working."
High above the snowy streets of Queens, Spider-Man was swinging through the biting winter air.
Aunt May's house was currently packed. George and Gwen Stacy were over for their traditional joint-family Christmas dinner. The house smelled like roasting turkey, and gifts were piled high under the Parker family tree.
So, what exactly did you get her? Venom's deep, rumbling voice echoed in Peter's head. The symbiote loved relationship drama.
Preparing a gift is a nightmare, Peter thought back, shivering slightly as the icy wind whipped past his spandex.
You have too many complicated attachments, Venom retorted smugly. If you were more aloof, this wouldn't be an issue.
Peter rolled his eyes under his lenses. Venom was incredibly easy to please. As long as Peter bought a mountain of Christmas chocolate, the alien was completely docile. Consequently, Venom had been aggressively suggesting that Peter max out the emergency credit card Tony Stark had given him just to buy out a Hershey's factory.
Peter ignored the parasite, firing another web-line toward Manhattan.
Steve Rogers, meanwhile, was on his motorcycle. He had spent the entire morning running a quiet, one-man delivery route, strapping bags of toys and hot meals to his Harley and dropping them off at underfunded orphanages across Brooklyn. Right now, the Captain was sitting in a pediatric oncology ward. He had donated every dime of his Avengers merchandising royalties to cover the kids' chemotherapy bills. Today, he was just sitting by their beds, holding their hands, and telling them stories to keep their spirits up.
"I'm heading over to meet him soon," Peter muttered to himself. "I just... needed a minute."
Peter touched down lightly on the very tip of the Empire State Building's antenna. It was his absolute favorite spot in the entire city.
Big, thick snowflakes drifted down from the grey sky, blanketing the concrete canyons of New York in a pristine layer of white. He squatted on the gargoyle, wrapping his arms around his knees. He just wanted to breathe for a second.
That was when a splash of color caught his eye.
Resting neatly on the freezing steel ledge, hundreds of feet above the street, was a small, wrapped Christmas gift box.
Peter tilted his head. He crept over, his spider-sense completely dormant. He stared at the box, then let out a soft, breathy laugh.
"Cindy," Peter whispered. "She knows I sit up here. She left it for me."
You should invite her up here next time, Venom rumbled helpfully. Peter ignored the alien matchmaking attempt.
He reached out with frozen fingers and untied the ribbon. He popped the lid off. It wasn't high-tech gear or anything expensive. It was a framed photograph of the Moon family. Cindy, her parents, and her little brother, all smiling brightly.
Peter turned the frame over. A handwritten note was taped to the back.
No one will ever forget how Spider-Man helped us. May you always hear the 'thank yous'. - Cindy. Peter traced the ink with his thumb. A genuine, warm smile spread across his face beneath the mask. He carefully slipped the frame into the secure compartment.
He settled back onto his perch, gazing out at the snow-covered skyline. A shadow flickered in his peripheral vision. His spider-sense remained a low, pleasant hum. Not a threat.
A second later, two leather-clad hands slipped over his lenses, covering his eyes.
"You really do love this spot," a sultry, distinctly feminine voice purred in his ear. "I always see you brooding up here."
Peter didn't flinch. He just smiled. "If we're playing 'Guess Who,' Cat, you really need to disguise your voice. It's a dead giveaway."
Felicia Hardy dropped her hands, stepping around him with a graceful, feline sway. She was wearing her Black Cat suit, the white fur trim catching the falling snow.
"Let's play a different game, then," she purred, holding out a sleek, black gift box. "Guess what I got you."
Peter blinked, taking the box. He just stared at her.
Felicia crossed her arms, a teasing smirk on her lips. "What? Don't look at me like that. Are you feeling guilty because you didn't get me anything?"
"No, I... I just didn't expect you to track me down up here just to give me a present," Peter stammered.
Felicia just winked. Without another word, she stepped backward off the ledge, firing her grappling hook mid-fall and swinging gracefully away into the snowy concrete canyons. She clearly didn't want to stick around for the emotional unboxing.
Peter watched her go, shaking his head. He looked down at the black box. He popped the latch. He let out a low whistle.
Folded neatly inside was a brand-new, flawlessly tailored Spider-Man suit. It was pure, jet-black with a stark white spider emblem across the chest. It was an exact, cloth replica of the black symbiote suit.
She really, really liked that look on us, Venom purred approvingly in his head.
Peter chuckled, carefully closing the box. He tucked it securely under his arm and tapped the comms unit in his mask. It chimed twice before connecting.
"Hey, Spider-Man?" Steve Rogers' steady, warm voice came through the earpiece. There was faint chatter and the beeping of hospital monitors in the background. "I'm still at the pediatric ward. Are you on your way?"
"Yeah. Sorry, Cap. I just zoned out for a minute watching the snow," Peter said, standing up on the freezing steel ledge. "I'm heading your way right now. Should be there before sundown."
"Take your time, son," Steve said warmly. "The kids are going to be thrilled to see you."
Peter smiled, shooting a web-line into the snowy sky. "I'll be thrilled to see them, Cap."