Snow was falling gently over New York, causing the usual chaos of the city to die down. The streetlights cast a warm yellow glow against the winter air, wreaths hung on nearly every door, and colorful string lights made halos of light amid the flurry of snow. The city that never slept still hadn't, but it had slowed just enough to feel like a postcard.
It was Christmas Eve.
For most, it meant warmth indoors, family dinner, stockings, and holiday joy. But not for all. In the cracks of the city, away from the warm, shining lights, were children who had no homes, no parents, no gifts. Orphans who watched the snow with wide eyes and open hands, waiting for a Christmas that seemed would never come.
On one forgotten street, a small group huddled together outside an old, all but abandoned church. The kids wore coats too thin for the weather, hats, and gloves riddled with holes. They whispered of Santa Claus in hopeful tones, but they had learned hope was hard to keep. Their stockings were scraps of old cloth sewn together and hung on a broken fireplace inside. And as the night grew colder, their talk turned quiet. Some tried to be brave, and others tried not to cry.
Up above, perched on a rooftop, Spider-Man watched.
He left home to patrol under the guise of visiting a friend, and on the way back, he saw the group of children. He noticed the way their shoulders sagged and the way they looked out at the Christmas decorations with a look of longing. Peter's heart, which had been full of holiday cheer, sank at the scene.
It made him realize just how lucky he was to have not only his family, but his home. He thought of his mother's laugh as she cooked Christmas dinner, how his father always hummed and sang along with the holiday songs, and of how he and Teresa used to lie under the tree, guessing what each present was. That was all waiting for him at his home still, and that thought only made his heart clench even more for the kids.
He wanted to give the kids something, but not just gifts or food, though he would do that as well. He wanted to give them the same warmth he felt with his family every day, the warmth of knowing that someone cared enough to make the world a little brighter, even for just a moment.
"All right, Spidey. Let's see what kind of Christmas magic you can pull off." he murmured before swinging into the coming night.
~
The stores that were open on Christmas Eve were few and far between, mostly bodegas for last-minute shopping and pawn shops for those who forgot to buy presents. He went to the nicest pawn shop he could find, and using money he had made from working at Uncle Ben's, he bought a few things. Some dolls and action figures, puzzles, books, and even an older model game console with a few games.
The shopkeeper was an older woman who must've realized why he was buying what he was buying, and she added a bundle of candy canes.
"On the house." she said softly. "Those kids deserve something sweet."
Peter thanked her and stepped back out into the snow, the bodega his next stop.
He couldn't cook them an entire meal, but he could give them something to fill their stomachs. At the corner bodega, he gathered what he could carry: packets of hot cocoa, boxes of crackers, little bags of chips, a few loaves of bread, and whatever hot food they had.
Though the food and gifts were ready, he still needed one more thing to complete his plan. Peter went into a thrift store and picked up some clothes for the kids, but that wasn't all. He picked up an old red coat missing a few buttons, a floppy Santa hat that had seen better days, and a pillow to stuff under the coat.
In the alley, he quickly put on his Santa outfit and used his webbing to make the fluffy white beard. He caught his reflection in the mirror, and he smiled because he looked ridiculous.
"Perfect."
~
The orphans stirred from their slumber when they heard a soft thump in the living room. They froze in their beds and looked at each other with wide eyes and pounding hearts, unsure of who or what had just entered. Unfortunately, they were alone that night as another church had called away the sister who usually took care of them.
They got up out of their beds and silently debated what to do. The bravest and oldest of them nodded at the others and, with clenched fists, crept down the stairs while the others silently followed behind her.
The old wood of the stairs creaked under their cautious steps, but when they reached the bottom, what they found made them all stop in their tracks.
By the fireplace where their makeshift stockings hung was Santa Claus himself ... sort of. His coat wasn't the right shade of red, nor was it buttoned up all the way, and it was clear that a pillow was stuffed under it. His beard wasn't fluffy either; instead, it looked sticky and glossy under the dim light. And clearly visible under his floppy hat was a bright red mask with big white eyes.
The kids all gasped.
Just as Spider-Man was about to ho-ho-ho, he was interrupted.
"You're not Santa!" said one of the boys.
Another girl squinted to get a better look. "That's Spider-Man dressed as Santa!"
"Guilty as charged, but I can explain." he said, smiling under his mask.
"Explain why you're dressed up as Santa." said the oldest girl, crossing her arms.
Peter gently placed the sack on the ground, noticing that the kids' eyes were all practically glued to it. "Truth is, the real Santa called me up tonight. He said there's a bad blizzard over the Atlantic, and his reindeer got held up in customs. It's a big mess, so he asked if I could cover some of New York for him."
"Spider-Man knows Santa?" whispered a wide-eyed boy.
"Oh, yeah. Santa and I go way back. We're in the same union. And we're in the same bowling league." Peter said, waving his hand dismissively before tugging the sack open. "Now I've got it on good authority you've all been amazing this year, so let's see what we've got for you."
That eased the tension. Giggles erupted from the kids as Peter began unloading the sack, and their disbelief melted away under the weight of the gifts in their hands. A doll lit up a little girl's face, one boy clutched the books as if they were treasures, and the older kids held the game console as if it were made of gold. When the candy canes came out, their faces lit up even more.
But Peter didn't stop there. With a flick of his wrist, he spun thin strands of webbing, shaping them into garlands that he strung across the living room of the church. They shimmered in the light, looking like silver tinsel. The children gasped, reaching out to touch them.
"Every Christmas needs some decorations." he said.
After the decorations came the food, and the smell alone felt like a hug for the kids who crowded around and tore into the feast, laughing as they did so.
One girl tugged on his sleeve, staring up at the mask. "You're really Spider-Man, huh?"
"I am, but you know what? Doesn't matter what mask I'm wearing tonight. What matters is you're not forgotten." he said, rubbing her head.
Another boy grinned. "You're way cooler than the real Santa."
"Don't let the elves hear you say that. They get real testy about that stuff." Peter said, wagging a finger.
They laughed again, and for a few minutes, the ruined old church was alive with warmth. Spider-Man's disguise wasn't great; his pillow belly kept slipping, and his web beard had bunched up too much, but none of that mattered. The children saw him for who he was: a hero who cared enough to make Christmas real for them.
After a few minutes of telling the kids stories, there was a lull, and Peter knew it was time for him to rejoin his family. He stood up and brushed the crumbs off his coat. "I'd love to spend all night with you kids, but it's time for me to head back to the rooftops."
"Wait!" one of the smallest children shouted. "Since you're Spider-Man, does that mean you're Santa-Man now?"
"I'd prefer Spider-Santa, but you know what, for tonight, you can call me whatever you want." he said. "And remember, just because you don't always see me, doesn't mean I'm not watching out for you."
The smallest of the children tugged at his sleeve. "Thank you, Spider-Man."
Peter's throat tightened. He ruffled the boy's hair through his glove. "Merry Christmas, kids."
Then, with one last wave, Peter swung out into the snowy sky, and cheers followed him as he left.
"Spider-Man's the best Santa ever!" one boy shouted.
"Better than the mall Santa." another agreed.
"Best Christmas ever." said the oldest with the biggest smile on her face.
~
Peter stepped inside his house, shaking the cold and snow from his boots. Just like it had since December began, the smell of pine and cinnamon and the sound of classic Christmas songs hit him as he entered. He breathed in deep, and the warmth wrapped him like a blanket.
"Peter! There you are, I was starting to worry about you." said Mary, sticking her head out from the kitchen.
"Sorry, I got caught up helping out a friend." he replied, bending down to pick up Dexter, who had come bounding down the stairs when he arrived.
"Can't fault him too much, Mary." said Richard, who was helping out Mary in the kitchen. "Helping out your fellow man is in the true spirit of Christmas."
Mary smiled faintly at Richard's words but still gave Peter that motherly look that meant she wasn't entirely satisfied. "As long as you're safe. Dinner's almost ready, so go wash up."
"Yes, ma'am." Peter said, setting Dexter down on the ground before giving him scratches on his head.
Teresa came out from the living room with that mischievous look he knew meant she had figured out what one of her presents was.
"Whose?" asked Peter, grinning.
"Aunt May's. Sweater." she said with a self-satisfied smile.
"You're ruining the surprise, you know." he said, chuckling.
"I didn't ruin it." Teresa said, twirling a strand of her hair smugly. "I just ... confirmed it. Besides, it's not like Aunt May's gonna be upset. She knows I love her gifts anyway, and I'll still wear it for her tomorrow when we go out."
"Out?" asked Peter.
"Don't tell me you forgot we're going to go see the Zatarra's father-daughter Christmas magic show tomorrow?" she said, rolling her eyes.
Peter blinked, scratching the back of his neck. "No, I didn't forget, just kind of slipped my mind a bit."
"Uh-huh." said Teresa, eyes narrowing.
"I promise. I know how excited Zatanna is about the show. I wouldn't miss it for the world." he said.
"We know you sometimes disappear, but you better not for this, Peter." said Mary from the kitchen. "Giovanni was kind enough to give us the best seats in the house, and I don't want to see Zatanna's disappointed face if you're not there."
"Come on, guys, you make it seem like I'm a flake or something." replied Peter.
"Your words, not ours." said Teresa, shrugging her shoulders.
"Let's eat." said Mary.
Dinner was lively, full of laughter, stories, and the kind of warmth that made Peter's chest ache with gratitude. Every bite tasted better because he knew what the kids at the church had faced tonight and how different his reality was.
After dessert, the family gathered around the tree to exchange a few small gifts, saving the rest for the morning, and eventually, everyone drifted upstairs to bed.
Peter closed his bedroom door quietly behind him, peeling off his clothes and tossing them on the chair. He was about to collapse onto his bed when something caught his eye.
There, beneath the glow of the string lights he'd put up on his shelves, sat a small box wrapped in green paper and tied with a perfect red bow.
Peter froze. He hadn't seen it before. He was sure it hadn't been there when he left for patrol, and any other present from his family was under the tree. But whatever it was didn't set off his spider-sense. Still, he slowly and cautiously crossed the room, crouching down to inspect it.
A tag dangled from the ribbon, written in looping, elegant handwriting.
"You're a natural. Merry Christmas. - S.C."
His breath caught. He looked out the window, where the snow still fell thick, and for a moment, he swore he heard a faint jingle of bells as a faint red glow faded beyond the rooftops.
Peter sat back on his heels, a stunned smile spreading across his face. "No way ..."
For the first time all night, he felt like a kid again.
And somewhere deep down, he knew the children at the church weren't the only ones who had been given a Christmas miracle.
~~
AN
Up next, YJ canon finally.