Marvelous Christmas Frenemies

By Lily Lindsey-Aubrey

Drip.

Drip.

Drrrip.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Super Soldier. Former SHIELD Agent. Former HYDRA Agent? Friend. Or was it former friend, too?

The year before last my Christmas was spent with my best friends- or so I thought- in the ugliest but most luxurious tower in New York City. Last year, it was spent at the cramped DC apartment belonging to a fellow American soldier with him and a Russian former spy who had nowhere else to go home to.

This year, it looks as if it will be spent here. In this old Brooklyn backroom of a bar. Me, a table and a chair, a bottle of beer. I've done this before.

It's been refurbished, this old bar; repaired and repainted since when it got blown apart by the bombings- since the last time I was sitting here. But it still leaks. Its bones are the same, its soul is the same.

Kind of like me.

Still can't get drunk. The hope that this side effect of the serum would wear off eventually has long ago died, but I thought it was worth a try.

How do you spend Christmas when most of the last people you spent Christmas with are fugitives from the government because of you? When the rest almost killed you? When you've almost killed them?

"One Iced Americano, coming right up!"

"That's not funny, Loki," I say. Then I jump up. "Wait a minute- Loki? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Or would you prefer a Bucky on ice?" Loki continues. He elbows me. "Get it? A Bucky on ice?"

"Loki, I'm serious," I say seriously. "Where is Thor, and why are you here? Hey, and speaking of which, where was Thor earlier when I was fighting for my life-"

"Thor is rather busy at the moment," says a voice, and in floats a tall man with a magician-esque moustache. "I'm afraid I got him to drink too much of whatever that drink was."

I've seen a lot. I'm a superhero. I know superheroes. I hang with superhero bros. But even I, a seasoned superhero-viewer, am astonished and a little jealous at the sight of this man and his ability to "float in". I can make a pretty cool entrance as it is. How much cooler would it be if I added "floating in" to it somehow?

"It's the cape," the man explains. He must notice my surprise. "It levitates."

I pull myself together and take my strong hero stance to help me feel in control again. "Can you tell me who you are, and why you've brought Loki here?" I say in a commanding tone.

"Remember how I told you that Thor had a few too many drinks?" says the man. "Well, so did I, it turns out, and he tricked me into promising to look after his brother while he slept off his liquor."

I look at him. "Okay," I finally say. That sounds like something Thor would do, honestly, but I'm not ready to trust this man yet. "You haven't told me who you are."

"I'm Doctor Strange, a former genius billionaire jerkface. Note the "former" I placed in that last sentence- I've reformed from all three of those hobbies."

"I used to know a genius billionaire jerkface," I say absent-mindedly.

"You mean Tony Stark," says the man, and carelessly flicks a speck of dust off of his watch. "Yes, yes. I've heard about your feud. But just so you know, I'm a bigger genius billionaire jerkface than him. I mean, I was."

I'm surprised. As if anyone could be a bigger jerkface than Tony. Maybe he means bigger as in size-wise. That would be true.

"Well, you are a bit taller," I admit.

"No, no, no, I mean I was genius-er, billionaire-ier, and jerkier-faced than Tony Stark ever was!" insists the man with the float cloak.

"Impossible," I say, and cross my muscular arms over my muscular-

Loki says to stop getting distracted or he'll jinx me.

"Impossible," I say. "Prove it."

"I was genius because I was a brilliant doctor."

"Tony was brilliant because he built a supersuit."

"Come on, anyone can build a supersuit!" scoffs the moustachioed man. "Even that teenager did it!"

"That teenager's super-ears are burning," says Peter Parker, swinging in.

See, that's what I mean. Sure, I have a dramatic way of walking in. Doors swing open to reveal a muscular broad-shouldered patriotism-clad American jaw-lined hero with a striking shield to accent the spectacle. But I must admit that floating in, and even swinging in, have their dramatic advantages.

Loki is threatening me again, so I'll try to stay on track.

"I'm also more of a billionaire than Tony," continues Doctor Strange, ignoring the new arrival. "Or, at least, I was."

"Impossible," I say. "Tony has nicer suits."

"Yes, but who wears them better?"

"Okay, but what about jerkface?" I demand. "You can't possibly claim to be more of a jerkface!"

"Oh really?" says the Doctor, stepping closer. "Did Tony crash his car because he was texting and driving?"

"Well, did you try to kill your best friend?" I shout.

"Well, no, I don't think so," the man admits.

"Um, guys, a hand here would be great," says Peter, who is being dragged out by a couple of burly bouncers.

"E's under age," they explain.

"But I need to talk to Captain America!" Peter protests.

I look from Peter to Doctor Strange to Loki (who apparently doesn't realize he's in a bar, because he's attempting to spike the drinks behind the waiter's back). "I was looking forward to a lonely, depressing, friendless Christmas all alone in a leaky-roofed bar," I sigh. "You guys are ruining my Christmas."

Even Loki looks guilty.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," says Peter. He waits.

I sigh again. "Fine. Shoot. What is it you want?"

"Okay, so every year at Christmas, Aunt May invites a bunch of people over. I think they're relatives, but then again I'm getting suspicious that it's different people each year."

"Keep going," I prompt.

"Okay, so every year she gets me the same thing for Christmas," says Peter. "If it were batman sunglasses, or batman legos, or even batman socks, I might be able to take it."

"But what is it?"

"Batman underwear," says Peter. "And I'll have to open it in front of a billion people."

When life gets you down, like it did me, remember Peter. When life gets you down, and you're sitting in a bar, wishing you could get drunk, just remember that it could always be worse. You could be Peter, and be stuck opening batman underwear in front of a billion people.

We shared a moment of silent sympathy for Peter's plight. Then I said, "Although I pity your situation, I don't see what you want me to do about it."

"Well, you can't really do anything about it," Peter admits. "My idea was to get you feeling sorry for me so that you'd let me spend Christmas with you guys."

"So the batman underwear thing was a lie?" I say.

"No, it's absolutely true," says Peter. "I'm serious. Every year it's the same. Even the same brand-"

"Okay, okay, TMI," says Loki.

"So you'll let me hang with you and the superbros for Christmas?" says Peter.

There's a silence.

"Don't- call us that," says Doctor Strange.

"Yep, just don't," I agree.

Several hours later…

"So, this is what a Christmas with earth's mightiest heroes is like," says Peter, trying to brighten the mood.

The mood is not brightened.

We sit in my very dirty apartment, eating stale store-bought Christmas cookies and trying to ignore the fact that we're all wanted by the government. Doctor Strange has left, saying he'd rather spend Christmas with Wong than with a bunch of losers like us.

"OJ, anyone?" asks Sam.

"My mom is going to be so ticked off," says Clint, staring out the window at the pouring rain. "She'll probably call me and yell for several hours about how I didn't show up to her Christmas dinner. She doesn't really get the concept of 'hiding from the government'."

"You have a mom?" says Wanda. "I find out that more of your family exists every day."

"Of course I have a mom," says Clint. "Why wouldn't I have a mom?"

"None of the rest of us do," says Wanda. There's a long awkward silence as we realize that she's pretty much right.

"I promised to get my daughter a bicycle for Christmas," says Scott, and sighs. "She'll be so disappointed."

"This is going to be the worst Christmas ever," says Clint.

And he's right. Something isn't right about this Christmas.

[Vision] Meanwhile, in Star Tower…

Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and I sit looking blankly at each other.

"I thought it would brighten the mood to have a Russian assassin and a robot spend Christmas with me," says Tony. "What was I thinking?"

"Yeah, this sucks," says Nat.

"Would you like the probability of this being an enjoyable Christmas?" I ask helpfully.

[Tony]

I'm a very strong-willed person. When my mind is made up, my mind is made up. So when I decide to hate Steve Rogers, I hate Steve Rogers. That's just how I roll.

But somehow, Christmas doesn't feel right. Is it because he's not here? Maybe it's because Nat and Vision are the most boring conversationalists on planet earth. Or perhaps I just haven't watched The Grinch enough times this December to get me into that holiday spirit.

Whatever the reason, I can't stop thinking about all my frenemies that would be here if I hadn't tried to kill everyone in the summer. Maybe if I ask them nicely, they'll come over in time for Christmas dinner.

Natasha is looking at me strangely.

"Why are you sniffling?" she asks.

"I'm not," I say coldly. "Okay, fine, I am. I probably caught pneumonia."

"Tony, just admit it," she says. "You miss all your frien-"

"Don't finish that sentence," I say. "I do NOT."

But something isn't right about this Christmas.

[Peter]

Have you ever met a true fan of something? Maybe it's Star Wars. Maybe it's Star Trek. A true fan knows everything about his fandom. I'm a true fan of the Avengers. That's why I know that they're not at their happiest right now. Oh, and the muttered curses and sniffling helps me figure that out, too.

Captain America seems hopeless. Ant-Man isn't making any jokes. The Falcon has given up offering people orange juice. That assassin dude has stopped sharpening his arrows.

Spiderman knows when he's needed. Spiderman will save the day.

Loki is looking at me with a venomous look. I don't think he likes my third-person narration.

Well, I have a plan. It's time to call Tony Stark. Good thing I have him on speed dial.

Hah. I bet you don't have him on speed dial!

[Tony]

I'm about to kick the Christmas tree when the sound of the chicken dance starts emanating from my pocket.

"Vision, for the last time, changing my ringtone got old a really long time ago!"

I look at my cell. "Oh, it's Peter," I sigh. Then I brighten up a bit. "Maybe Aunt May is inviting me over for dinner!"

"Hi, Mr. Stark," says Peter.

"Hey, kid," I say. "Is Aunt May having a good Christmas dinner?"

"Yes, actually she is," says Peter.

"Okay, I'll be over in five," I say, and begin to hang up.

"Wait, Mr. Stark!" says Peter, sounding rather panic-stricken. "Don't go to Aunt May's house! You'll see my present! I mean, the present I got for you, of course. Of course that's what I mean. That makes sense, right?" He seems to be asking himself, so I don't bother to answer.

"Then how do I get Christmas dinner?" I ask. "I mean, how will I spend Christmas with you and your wonderful Aunt?"

"I have the address of our friend's house, where we're having dinner," says Peter.

"Your friend won't mind if I come and crash the party?" I ask.

"Oh, no, not at all," says Peter. "Never. Not one bit. He wouldn't mind. Definitely not."

"Okay, then," I say.

"Dinner is at six," says Peter. "Bye!"

"He hung up awfully fast," I say, and shrug.

[Steve]

"We need to order pizza," says Peter, coming in and pocketing his cell. "I mean, that would get us into the Christmas mood."

"What were you doing out there?" asks Clint. "It's freezing cold."

"Yeah, I think it might snow," says Peter loudly. "Who wants pizza?"

"I can't exactly place an order, I'm a wanted man," says Scott. "Plus I'm broke."

"I'll treat you guys," says Peter. "Or maybe I'll get a certain rich friend of mine to-"

"Who's that?" I ask suddenly. There's the sound of a car pulling up outside. Doors slam. The doorbell rings. Nobody moves.

"That must be the pizza," says Peter, and goes to the door.

"But we didn't order it yet!" says Falcon.

But Peter opens the door to reveal

Tony, Natasha, and Vision.

"I thought your friend wouldn't mind if I brought a few friends of my own-" begins Tony. Then he falters.

There is an awkward silence.

[Tony]

I don't know what to say. All my former friends are standing before me, with looks of astonishment on their faces. I should feel anger. I should feel disgust. I don't even like these people.

But instead, I just feel like relaxing and having a good time like we used to. Before I can help myself, I say,

"Well, at least I won't have to keep Cap's present for myself now." And suddenly I feel that Christmas spirit I was missing come rushing in.

You can say it's because I decided not to wreak my revenge on Cap at this specific moment, since it's Christmas, but I blame it on the flurry of snow that sweeps in at that moment. Snow must be what I needed.

[Steve]

I can't believe it. Here's Tony, cracking jokes, just like old times. Maybe Christmas won't be so bad, after all. At the very least, now I don't have to keep the present I got for Tony, either.

"There had better still be a good dinner," says Tony.

"I'm ordering pizza now," says Peter, and fist-pumps as he leaves to look up a pizza place that's open on Christmas. I wonder why he looks so proud of himself.

Well, maybe next year I can spend Christmas trying to get drunk in a bar. This year, I'm spending it with my frenemies.

Loki is saying that he'll throw the pizza out the window if I end that sappily, so I'm going to let him finish.

[Loki]

I'm throwing the pizza out the window anyways.

the end

Author's Note: This was written for day 4 of the 2016 Fan Fiction Christmas Countdown! See my profile page for more info on that event, and on the ones from the last two years.

Please visit LadyLindariel and read her story, the first in the FFCC. If you already have read the others, then visit TheConManAndTheGhost tomorrow for another awesome addition to the event!

Make sure to review all these stories that authors have come together to write for you. Have a merry Christmas and happy New Year!

~Lily Lindsey-Aubrey