As Christmas drew near, the large boxes Happy carried inside contained just about everything one could imagine—decorations, cured meats, all kinds of seafood… and finally, the most essential Christmas staple of all: a turkey.
Everything was there—except for one crucial thing.
A Christmas tree.
"When I came just now, I saw a few Christmas trees still left at the supermarket up ahead," Steve said. "I'll go buy one and bring it back."
Since he hadn't brought a gift, Steve figured buying a Christmas tree—and maybe a few small presents—would make up for it. But Tony immediately frowned.
"What? You mean those cheap plastic fake trees from the supermarket?" Tony scoffed. "This is Christmas! How could we use a fake tree? Happy, there's a Christmas tree farm east of Lesper Falls. Go cut one down."
"Well… a Christmas tree is only used for one day. Isn't that a bit wasteful?" Clara said softly. "Why don't we just use a plastic one…"
Maybe it was psychological, but Clara always felt herself shrink a little in Tony's presence—far less relaxed than she was with anyone else.
"Then we'll dig up the whole tree," Tony said decisively. "After Christmas, we'll plant it in the garden."
"…Alright then." Steve sighed. "I'll go dig one up. Happy, lend me your van—I'll need a bigger vehicle. Tony… you can come along and give directions."
Catching the van keys Happy tossed over, Steve deliberately invited Tony along. He wanted a private talk.
…..
The van rolled along quiet roads, nearly empty of cars. On Christmas Day, most people stayed home with their families. Even the shops lining the streets had all closed.
"What are you thinking, Stark?" Steve finally asked. "Letting Clara live alone like that? With your resources, finding her proper foster parents wouldn't be difficult."
It wasn't that Steve liked lecturing—Tony's arrangement really did look careless to anyone who didn't know the full story.
"That's not possible," Tony said flatly. "Clara believes I'm her father."
The van screeched slightly as Steve nearly hit the brakes.
"…What did you just say?"
After Tony explained everything, Steve finally escaped the imaginary drama playing in his head—Billionaire toys with woman's feelings, abandons her, 13 years later rejects his destitute daughter.
"So what's your plan?" Steve asked. "Are you going to keep lying to her forever?"
"What choice do I have?" Tony shot back. "You want to tell her the truth—that her 'father' isn't a hero, but a repeat offender with a criminal record?"
"I'm not doing that," Steve said instantly. "No way."
"Then what do you suggest?"
For the first time, Tony genuinely looked to Steve for an answer.
"…Maintain the status quo," Steve said at last. "It's the only option."
Tony didn't reply.
…..
About an hour later, they returned with two Christmas trees.
One was tall and slender.
The other short and full.
They'd argued at the tree farm: Tony insisted on a tall, elegant tree; Steve prioritized ceiling height and ease of decorating. In the end, neither backed down.
So both came home.
In the living room, the tall tree's tip brushed the ceiling, while the short one was quickly covered in ornaments. The tall one, however, looked awkward—too sparse if lightly decorated, too crowded if not.
In the end, Clara brought out her handmade paper flowers, transforming the tall tree into a dazzling Christmas blossom tree.
Tony eyed his now-clearly-prettier tree with smug satisfaction.
Steve glanced over, then chose to ignore him.
…..
Christmas dinner was prepared by Pepper, Natasha, and Clara—who took charge as head chef.
Natasha had initially worried Clara was too young, but after tasting her braised pork ribs, she immediately switched to assistant mode. For a top-tier agent, chopping meat and filleting fish was child's play.
Pepper, once Tony's personal assistant, was practically omnipotent. All the salmon, caviar, and ingredients Clara had never even seen before were handled effortlessly by her.
Poverty really does limit imagination, Clara thought.
…..
The doorbell rang.
Happy hurried to answer—it was tense staying between Tony and Steve's silent rivalry.
Outside stood Ms. Daisy Jackman.
She'd come to check on Clara, worried her guardian might abandon her on Christmas. She was even prepared to take Clara back to the staff dormitory with her.
"Hello, I'm Clara's teacher, Daisy Jackman. And you are…?"
"I'm Clara's uncle," Happy replied quickly, smiling politely.
But Daisy's expression instantly darkened.
In her eyes, Clara's guardian was the worst parent imaginable—never present during home visits, never attending school activities. And Clara always defended him.
She didn't hold back.
From the living room, Tony rubbed his face.
Even though Happy was the one being scolded, it felt like every word was aimed at him.
"Ms. Daisy, please come in," Clara said quickly, rescuing Happy.
Once inside, Daisy froze.
Iron Man.
Captain America.
Black Widow.
Pepper Potts.
All gathered in the home of a single orphan girl.
Something was very wrong—and she'd clearly misunderstood that "uncle."
Suddenly, the living room turned into a tribunal.
Defendant: Clara Johnson.
The truth came out.
Clara had hidden school events from Happy so he wouldn't be bothered—and told teachers she was afraid Happy might lose his job.
"Lose his job?" Tony snapped. "Do I look like the kind of boss who fires employees for attending school events?!"
Pepper frowned in agreement.
Happy and Steve added a few words.
Natasha just watched, amused, as Clara—far too mature for her age—lowered her head in silence.
"Alright, enough," Natasha finally said. "It's Christmas. Let's not gang up on a kid. From now on, tell Happy everything. Understood, Clara?"
Clara nodded quietly, wiping the corner of her eye.
When Daisy prepared to leave, Clara tugged her sleeve.
"Ms. Daisy… you're spending Christmas alone too, right? Why don't you stay?"
She looked to Tony—seeking permission.
"The more the merrier," Tony said. "And dinner's almost ready. Clara cooked."
This Christmas was the one Clara smiled the most.
When Tony and the others left, the two Christmas trees were planted side by side in the garden—
one tall, one short—
like two newly enlisted soldiers, proudly guarding this home.
--------------
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