Chapter 15
Upon seeing the line for Santa, Tony mentally began converting the actual wait time to how Peter’s Little brain would interpret it. Caregiverhood had taught him that one minute in adult time was roughly three in Little time. So, a ten-minute wait for Santa would be a half-hour for Peter.
Give or take based on mood, food status and level of diaper wetness.
“Might as well do it now,” Stephen said, probably after doing his own calculations. “It’s still pretty crowded here; I don’t think that line is getting any shorter.”
Tony let out a sigh of begrudged agreement before putting on a smile for his boy. “Okay, Peter! You ready to go see Santa?”
“San-tah!” Peter grabbed one of Tony’s and Stephen’s hands and began to swing them excitedly. “Hol’on! We go!”
Tony was impressed with how well Peter managed the line. Much of that credit though went to Stephen, who was more than happy to engage with the Little as they slogged their way through it. Stephen pointed out the painted murals on the wall and ask Peter questions about what he saw:
“What’s that, Peter?”
“Bur-dee!”
“That’s right! That’s a bird; a cardinal, actually.”
“Car-nall.”
After Peter grew bored of that, Stephen asked him to count the bells that were nestled in the garlands that lined the railings.
“’Es four…no! Stee-ben! Sees!”
“I see six bells too! Very good, Peter!”
But the bells too eventually lost their luster. This led to Peter tugging at his daddy’s coat with a needy, “Ammah-mals?”
“What is that?” Stephen asked with a chuckle.
“Oh, he just wants to watch funny animal videos on my phone,” Tony was already pulling said phone from his pocket. “Here you go, little duck.”
“Tank-oo!” Peter’s pacifier began to bob quickly, a sign of excitement for ‘ammah-mal’ videos.
“I know, I know,” Tony held up an open palm to Stephen, ready to block any critical feedback, “worse caretaker of the year…”
“Who said that?” Stephen laughed and as he bypassed the hand to place a gentle kiss on Tony’s cheek. “A little screen time won’t kill him.”
“I hate that we’re here at this quaint, Disney-esque village and I’m just too tired to,” Tony shook his head. His dark eyes glanced around, as if nervous about what he was about to share. “You ever see those TikTok granola caregivers? Like, the ones who only use cloth diapers, homeschool their Littles and grow their own food and-”
“Ew, no,” Stephen scrunched up his face. “I’m sure they share the overlap of a Venn diagram with essential oil nut jobs.”
Tony laughed as he pressed his weight into Stephen’s side. The doctor seemed to pick up on his need for comfort and put an arm around Tony’s shoulder.
“Sometimes I wish I could be like that for him,” Tony then said in a quiet voice. “Just…you know…”
“Fake?” Stephen finished his sentence with an arched eyebrow, “Tony, you’re smart enough to know that all that influencer bullshit is made to generate views. Those people aren’t real. You and me,” he gestured between them with the coffee cup in his other hand, “we’re real people.”
“Well, real people with a personal assistant.”
“You know what I mean. Life’s…,” Stephen sighed, “it’s complicated. And I get it’s harder with a kid or a Little; you’re super focused on being the best caregiver you can be all while trying to juggle a job and appointments and bills. And now we have people out there acting like it’s so easy just to get up at three in the morning to start making breakfast from scratch and taking cloth diapers down from the laundry line…” Stephen made a guttural noise of disgust, “It’s almost criminal, if you ask me.”
Tony was a bit embarrassed by how giddy he felt at Stephen’s words. There was a wonderful sort of validation, an understanding that even with money and an assistant, being a single caregiver was still a monumental task. That no matter how hard he tried, it always felt like there was someone else out there doing it better…doing it the right way.
“You know I’m a neurosurgeon; right?” Stephen suddenly asked.
Tony snorted a laugh.
“You never let me forget.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stephen gave Tony’s shoulder a squeeze, “but seriously; imagine if I went online and just started talking about how easy it was to do what I’ve done? Oh!” His voice shot up into a mocking falsetto, “Just sacrifice your social life, do forty-eight-hour rotations in the shittiest hospitals in the worst parts of New York, only being fueled by ramen noodles and cheap, bodega coffee! Don’t want to do that? Guess you’re just an unmotivated loser who doesn’t care about your life!”
It was now Tony’s turn to place a sweet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.
“What was that for?” Stephen smiled at him.
“Because you’re cute,” Tony said, laying his head down on Stephen’s shoulder. “Thank you…”
“You’re a good caretaker and an amazing father,” Stephen whispered, “don’t let any internet granola caretaker tell you otherwise.”
Is this guy for real? Is this really my boyfriend? Tony felt like he was falling in love all over again. It was a repeating pattern he had noticed in their relationship. Well, their first encounter had been more lust than love…
But then came the night of the fall recital. Just the sight of Stephen even being there, actually showing up to an event Tony knew the surgeon found to be trivial…it left Tony utterly breathless. Then came the bouquet of flowers and watching the normally poised Stephen Strange stumble over his words; he was so nervous! And to top it all off, Stephen then debased himself by taking them to a fast-food restaurant and playing in what he dubbed ‘a veritable sea of pink eye and Escherichia Coli’.
The next morning, he came with a box of treats. Tony smiled as he remembered how beautifully Stephen’s eyes had matched his Columbia sweater.
And how effortlessly Peter settled himself on Stephen’s lap.
Over and over again, Tony found himself falling in love with this man.
The revelation he had shared with Pepper on that fall morning came to his mind…
I don’t want to jinx it, but…I think he might be the one…
Peter was now second to next; his time with Santa was nigh.
“Dah-dee,” he began pushing the phone back towards Tony, “no.”
“No? What no?”
“San-tah, see?” Peter pointed to the bearded man flanked with nutcracker soldiers, “San-tah no’fone.”
“That’s right, no phone when we sit with Santa,” Tony slipped it back into his coat pocket. “And we’re going be a good boy and wait our turn, right?”
Peter made a very serious nod.
Tony continued to laud his boy for employing all his patience. Peter was certainly wiggly, rocking his hips from side to side and bouncing on the balls of his feet. But never did he whine or fuss.
“Okay, you’re next,” Stephen told him, giving Peter an assuring rub in his back.
“Yeah…San-tah…”
“Got your list ready?”
Peter looked up at Stephen, a little smirk peeking out from either side of his pacifier. But he did not verbally confirm anything.
“Hello, hello!” A young lady dressed as an elf approached, the bells sewn into her hat ringing merrily with every step. “How many Littles do we have in this group?”
“Just this adorable one,” Tony put a hand on Peter’s head.
“Oh, yes he is a sweet boy!” She gushed, “And what is your name, Little one?”
“Pe’tah!” Peter’s enthusiasm matched the young lady’s, “Pe’tah Stah’k!”
“Well, Peter Stark; are we all ready to meet Santa?”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
The young lady looked to Tony and asked in a somewhat hushed voice, “Does he get nervous? Do you need to go up with him?”
“No, he’ll be alright,” Tony confirmed.
“Great! You guys can go stand,” she pointed to a collection of fake trees, fake reindeer, and fake snow just in front of the large dais that held the Santa chair, “there and take all the pictures you like!”
“Thank you!”
“Alright little one, let’s go!”
Peter was making all sorts of little giggles and snorts as the elf took his hand and led him up the steps.
“Didn’t they used to have high school kids who could do this?” Stephen glanced around, as if said high schoolers would magically appear.
“So I could pay nineteen-ninety-nine plus tax for a blurred image on high gloss paper?” Tony asked “Hard pass. Besides,” he gave his boyfriend a toothy grin, “don’t you love playing Peter Paparazzi with me?”
Peter Paparazzi was a new game the men had developed after they caught each other taking rapid fire pictures of Peter at a Little’s event at Sheep Meadow just a few weeks prior. Peter had been adorably dressed in a pair of red corduroy overalls and long sleeve onesie covered in polar bears. The red beanie snuggly fit over his curls stretched out into a long Santa-style hat. Everything the precious Little did caused them to ‘awww’ and save the moment to their phone.
While sharing the photos they captured together at the end of the night, Stephen dubbed them the Peter Paparazzi…and the name stuck.
“Of course I want to play Peter Paparazzi,” Stephen laughed, whipping out his phone.
Peter had wasted no time getting on Santa’s lap. He had also already spit out his pacifier and was babbling incessantly at the smiling Santa.
“Tell me Peter,” he said the moment Peter paused to take a breath, “have you been naughty or nice this year?”
“Nice!” Peter chirped confidently.
“Yes, you have,” the Santa nodded, “and what do you want for Christmas, Peter?”
The energy around Peter began to wane. His bright, smiling face went slightly slack and his eyes began to dance with deep thought. Tony was a bit surprised at Peter’s sudden silence. Up until they left for the cabin, Peter had been asking about a wagon and unspecific Squishmallows.
Slowly, Peter began to turn toward the two men and raised his right arm…
…to point to Doctor Stephen Strange.
“Stee-ben! Stee-ben ‘en me ‘en Dah-dee!”
Tony felt Stephen stiffen beside him. Weird, guttural noises began to come from his mouth.
Peter! What? What are you doing?
Despite the fact that Tony had felt his jaw literally drop, Peter seemed completely unaware of the distress he was causing.
“Stee-ben! ’Es Stee-ben inna home! Me ‘n dah-dee!”
The Santa let out a bellied ‘Ho-ho-ho!’, which thankfully quieted Peter’s ramblings.
“Yes! I do see your caregivers there!” He waved a white gloved hand to Tony and Stephen before looking back at the boy, “But what about toys? That’s my specialty. I have many elves right now working on toys for you and all the other good Little boys and girls!”
“L’Eggos!” Peter chirped at the mention of toys, “’En w’aggon! En Squizz-mah! Pwease!”
“Such good manners,” the Santa smiled, “thank you for sharing your list with me. Now, how about a big smile so your caregivers can take a nice picture?”
A big, cheery grin stretched across Peter’s face.
“Cheese!”
Just outside the Santa house, Peter spotted a collection of snow piles for smaller Littles to play in. The boxed-in area was littered with color buckets and shovels, and plastic molds to make castles.
“Dah-dee play?” Peter asked, though he was already toddling over, sans permission.
“Yeah, bud, go check it out!”
Tony winced at the quiver in his voice. His cheeks were still stinging with hot humiliation, an unpleasant contrast to the chilly outside air.
Stephen though did not seem wise to Tony’s discomfort. At least, he did not act like he was. He calmly walked over to one of the open benches and pushed aside the snow that was piled on it. Wordlessly, the two men settled down beside each other.
“We can probably let him burn up the rest of his energy here then head back,” Stephen said, lifting his wrist to observe the time, “I can’t believe it’s almost two.”
“Yeah, same…”
Affable Peter had no trouble making friends with some of the other Littles in the snow piles. A team of them quickly assembled and began to roll up a giant snowball.
“I’m sorry if that was…weird,” Tony said in a tiny voice, barely heard over the laughter of the Littles.
“Is it safe to guess you’re talking about what…,” Stephen’s confident start quickly puttered out, “…about, uh, what Peter said?”
Tony nodded.
“I mean, he’s just a baby,” Stephen shrugged, “he doesn’t really understand…things. He’s a smart kiddo,” he quickly amended, “but, you know, he doesn’t understand how adults work; how we do things.”
“He does really like you though,” said Tony, “when you’re not around, he always asks where you are.”
“Oh…”
Tony knew he should have taken the simple response as a sign to stop talking. This was all clearly pushing Stephen to his limit. Sure, Stephen had been the one to suggest the Santa’s Village and had voiced his preparedness for anything the day would bring.
There was no way though he could have foreseen Peter literally asking Santa for him.
“I didn’t anticipate him getting so close to you,” but Tony continued. “Honestly, when I began Platinum Singles, I was so sure it was going to be the opposite. Peter’s such a daddy’s-boy,” the beautiful truth of that statement made Tony chuckle. “I thought he’d be livid; knowing I was sharing my time with someone else. Even when he kept saying your name in the days leading up to the pageant…I couldn’t believe he would so readily accept you. Even after the hug and the flowers and having you read him a story…”
Finally, Tony found the strength to look Stephen in the eyes. His gorgeous Columbia blue eyes.
“It was that morning you came back when I saw my baby was over the moon for you. You weren’t an intrusion into our lives, you weren’t someone there to steal his daddy away…you were…you were…” Tony shook his head and sighed, “I don’t know exactly he sees you…”
Stephen’s lips twitched with a small smile. His hands went over Tony’s.
“I think he sees me as someone who loves his daddy very much.”
The doctor leaned and placed the gentlest breath of a kiss on Tony’s lips. One so warm and tender, Tony actually felt a chill go through him when they parted.
“Thank you…”
“Tony? Do…,” Stephen inched himself closer to his boyfriend, “Do you think I’m upset?”
“Not upset…more that…,” Tony released a groan as he looked into the sky, “I keep thinking we’re going to scare you away.”
“Who? You and Peter?”
“No, me and the Pope,” Tony quipped, sounding more frustrated than he wanted to. “You’re a neurosurgeon, something you always remind me of. And you’re brilliant and intelligent and before me you lived a privileged life of Michelin star restaurants and one-night stands with models and you probably’ve done a little coke…I know I did before I became a dad…”
Stephen made a tiny gasp to speak, but then decided against it. For a long while the two sat in almost silence, as the Little a short distance away were practically screeching with delight.
“Tony,” Stephen finally whispered, “why did you become a caregiver?”
Tony knew the exact moment. He had woken up in Amsterdam, not remembering how he had gotten back to his hotel. The mini bar had been raided; his head felt like it was in a vice.
Again.
There were a thousand missed calls from Pepper on his phone…and another one was coming through.
But Tony did not answer it.
Instead, he went to his window to look at the canal, only to find his own translucent reflection looking back at him in the glass.
Is this all there really is?
“Because I wanted something better,” he said in a quiet but firm voice, “because…I realized I had more to give just my genius. Most people would find it hard to believe, but I do have a heart. A heart that wants to love and be loved,” a shuddering sob cut him off. “I’m sorry.”
“And you don’t think I might want the same?”
Again, Tony locked his eyes with Stephen’s.
“Do you?”
“At first?” Stephen shook his head, “No; no, I never thought there was anything outside Michelin star restaurants and one-night stands and a little recreational cocaine. And if you hadn’t been so damn cute in your pictures, I never would have given you a chance.” He gave Tony a small smirk, “Guys with kids and Littles were an automatic swipe left.”
“But you swiped right.
“And we met. And then I met Peter…and everything changed,” Stephen pressed his forehead into Tony’s. “I’ve actually been scared all this time, too.”
“About what?”
“That you and Peter didn’t need me; that I was a third wheel in your perfect world.”
“What?” Tony barked an incredulous laugh, breaking their connection. “I’m a single dad; I take all the help I can get!”
This too made Stephen laugh, and the men took a moment to enjoy the break in the tension that had been steadily growing.
“I mean it though,” Stephen continued, “you two have such a wonderful bond; who was I to think I could force myself in? But…um…”
Tony watched as Stephen’s hand slowly pulled away and slipped into his jacket pocket.
“But, perhaps…I can ask…”
“Dah-dee!”
Tony’s eyes snapped up as a red-faced Peter made sluggish steps toward them.
“Dah-dee…”
“Hey baby,” Tony welcomed the boy to come sit on his lap, “hey…what’s wrong, little duck?” The problem immediately became clear. “Looks like someone’s very wet.”
“Um…,” Stephen began to fidget, scooching back from Tony on the bench, “maybe we can go back to the bakery?”
“No, no,” Tony sighed, “we should probably head back. I can change him quicker in the back of the car and then get him into his seat – oh shit!”
“What?”
“A tree.”
“Tee…,” Peter cooed sadly.
“I think we can just order one here and have it brought to the cabin,” Stephen said as he stood to brush away some of the snow on his pants. “What do you think; a nice six-foot fir?”
“Yeah,” Tony nodded, “that sounds good.”
“Okay, get him on back and I’ll make all the arrangements,” Stephen then leaned down to put a kiss on Peter’s cheek. “Daddy’s going to take care of you. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“’Kay…,” Peter nodded.
Tony watched as Stephen trudged his way back up to the center of the village. Something had happened but he did not fully understand what it was. Nor did he have the time to unpack it.
“Ready to go back to the car, little duck?”
“Stee-ben?”
“Stephen will be back,” Tony smiled, “I promise; he’ll always come back.”