It was Christmas Eve, and snowflakes swirled carelessly outside Tony Stark's glass-walled mansion, shimmering in the soft glow of the city lights. You were practically buzzing with excitement, humming carols as you sifted through a box of Christmas decorations. This year, you’d convinced Tony to join you in decorating the tree—a tradition he’d somehow managed to avoid his entire life.

Tony stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression a mix of amusement and hesitation. Christmas wasn’t exactly his favorite holiday. The date was forever stained by the loss of his parents years ago, and his childhood memories were more about empty gestures and public appearances than warmth or joy. To him, Christmas was all for show—media, parties, and fake smiles—not something so… intimate and full of love.

"Okay, Grinch," you teased, tossing him a tangled string of multicolored lights, "grab these and get to work."

He caught them effortlessly, though his brow furrowed as he held up the chaotic mess. "Is there a manual for this? Or better yet, why can’t we just hire someone to do it?"