A/N: Written for bynightafangirl for the HulkWidow Network's Secret Santa. She wanted a holiday fic that included snow, so I hope this fits the bill! It's set in the same timeline as "Sun's Getting Low," but all that's necessary to know about that is Natasha spent Christmas with the Bartons and Bruce stayed in NYC, and they spent some time on video chat while they were apart.

For the perfect soundtrack for this fic, check out Annalise Emerick's "This Love Won't Break Your Heart". Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!

As always, thanks to my beta, malintzin.

At the Stroke of Midnight

Natasha fastened the last button of her coat and glanced in the hall mirror to check the knot of her scarf was straight. It wasn't, but fiddling with it determined that was owing to the fact that the black and red striped scarf itself wasn't knitted straight. Which was to be expected, after all, from Lila's first big knitting project, and Natasha loved it. She smirked slightly, thinking of Bruce noticing it-those scientist's eyes were trained to observe minutiae, and he never missed one-and wished she could tell the truth about its origins instead of the usual, generic half-truth of one of my little Black Widow fangirls. What would he, any of the Avengers, make of her being Auntie Nat to Clint's secret children?

Laura's reflection joined hers in the mirror as she came into the room, her gait already taking on that rolling movement not even halfway into this third pregnancy. "Are you sure you don't want to try and get your flight changed?"

"Please, Auntie Nat?" begged Lila, hurtling down the stairs. "Stay here longer, please, please, pleeeeeeease?"

Cooper followed. He didn't bound and beg like his little sister, just slid one hand down the rail with the other tucked into his jeans pocket, already trying to be cool like his dad, but he nevertheless gave Natasha an expectant look that indicated his thoughts were the same as Lila's. They'd make terrible spies, with those readable little faces.

"I don't mean just because we don't want you to go, which we don't," Laura added, looking on with a smile as Lila hugged Natasha tightly around the waist. "But the weather reports for the east coast are looking pretty bad. They're predicting the Snowpocalypse."

"Again?" Natasha replied.

"It's like a crappy disaster movie sequel," said Clint, pulling Lila off her waist, slinging her over his shoulder and dangling her upside-down over his back while she squealed.

"How quickly they forget the city was invaded by aliens." Natasha stooped to pick up her bag, a little lighter than it had been when she came to the farm, since she'd given the kids their presents, and hers from them consisted mainly of knitted things.

"Admittedly, the Avengers would be pretty useless in a snowstorm," Clint said.

"Spoken like the guy who lost the epic snowball fight of 2014," Natasha said, and Laura snorted.

"Couldn't Iron Man melt snow with his repulsors?" Cooper suggested. "And can't Thor control the weather?"

"Can he do snow?" Clint asked, looking at Natasha, who shrugged.

"If he could, wouldn't he have stopped Snowmageddon?"

"And Hulk," Cooper went on. "He could smash through the big snowdrifts."

Natasha grinned, both at Clint's look of annoyance about his son's favorite Avenger, and at the mental image of the Big Guy in the snow. She'd like to see that sometime. "All the while passing comment on your puny snowballs."

"You want to walk to the airport?" Clint deadpanned.

"Please don't leave!" Lila cried, still hanging over his back.

"I have to, sweetie," Natasha said. "Someone's got to make sure those knuckleheads at the Tower got bread and milk for the Snowpocalypse."

"Somehow, I don't think those are the staples Stark stocked up on for his New Year's Eve party." Clint opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. "Unless you count beer and eggnog."

"That's your idea of a happy New Year, babe," Laura said, following him out. "Stark probably goes for the expensive champagne."

"I blew the champagne budget at the Home Depot."

Clint plopped Lila down on the snowy ground below the porch. Her face was as red as the heirloom tomatoes Laura grew in right about that spot every summer as she splayed out in the snow to make angels.

"Soon it'll be Pampers," Natasha added, shouldering her bag.

Laura gave her a longing look, hand absently rubbing her rounded belly. "Drink a glass of the expensive champagne for me, will you?"

"Oh, I will."

"Dr. Banner," JARVIS' voice carried over Tony's AC/DC as the volume abruptly dropped, "you asked me to notify you when it was three o'clock."

Bruce looked up from his monitor, blinking. "Is it three o'clock already?"

"Why does Dr. Banner want to be notified about the time?" asked Tony, laying down his soldering iron.

"He didn't say, sir," JARVIS replied. "Perhaps it's a personal matter."

"Are you telling me it's none of my beeswax?"

"I try to avoid speaking in clichés, Mr. Stark."

Bruce grinned, at JARVIS' subtle snark and Tony's obvious scowl, and thanked the AI as he saved his work and began to close up shop.

"What about you?" Tony asked, dusting off his hands and shoving them into his pockets as he left his workstation to approach Bruce's. "Do you avoid clichés?"

"It's really no big deal." Bruce waited to let Tony emit a tiny scream of frustration, then added, "I'm just picking up Natasha from the airport."

"Um, you sure about that, buddy?"

"What do you mean?" Bruce paused in the middle of shrugging off his lab coat.

"Haven't you seen the weather reports? Snowpocalypse, Part Two."

"It's snowing?" Bruce asked. In the lab, he tended to forget all about the conditions outside the Tower.

"Some reports measure as much as six inches so far, Dr. Banner," JARVIS replied.

"JARVIS, check the status of…" Tony trailed off, raising his eyebrows at Bruce. "Where's Romanoff coming from?"

"Cleveland. I mean, it's a connecting flight, I don't know where she was before that."

"I'm not asking for her entire travel itinerary. Not that I'm not deeply curious where and how the Black Widow spends her holidays. Cleveland to where? JFK?"

"Laguardia."

"Airline?"

"She texted me…" Bruce fumbled in his pants pocket for his phone, then pulled up her text and the flight number. "Here it is. Oh, she had more stops, Charlotte and Raleigh-Durham…American-"

"American Airlines Flight 4659 has not left Raleigh," JARVIS replied. "Estimated arrival time at Laguardia delayed until 9:45 PM."

Bruce tried not to let his disappointment show. "Guess I have a few more hours to work before I head out," he said, returning to his computer.

"You're not going anywhere," Tony said. "One, you'd miss the party. Two, you drive in this? We have Snowpocalypse with the Abominable Green Snow Monster. Which would be a fantastic movie, but not so much in reality."

Was this actual Armageddon? Tony thinking responsibly about something so mundane as driving conditions?

"Happy'll go pick her up," he said.

"Shouldn't you maybe ask him instead of volunteering him to go out in a snowstorm?"

Tony's brow furrowed as he considered this. "Maybe?"

Bruce left him to deal with his chauffeur, stepping out of the lab to call Natasha. Before he could pull up her contact info, his phone simultaneously rang and vibrated in his hand, Natasha Romanoff Calling flashing across the screen. He clapped it to his ear.

"Tasha. Hi."

"Bad news," she said, without preamble. "Flight's delayed."

"Yeah. JARVIS just told me."

The disappointment must have been evident in his voice, because when Natasha spoke again, it was in that gently reassuring tone he was getting more accustomed to hearing when they talked.

"I'll still make it to the party. Just fashionably late. Speaking of which, can you do me a favor?"

"Tony says it's unwise for me to drive in this snowstorm," Bruce blurted out. "He's probably right."

A puff of static in his ear. Laughter? He had sounded kind of petulant, he supposed.

"Would you go in my room and take my dress out of the closet for the party? At the very least it needs to be spread out on the bed so the fabric can breathe, but it probably to be steamed or ironed."

The request left Bruce momentarily dumbfounded.

"Bruce? Are you still there?"

"Yeah…" The phone had slipped down his slackened jaw, and he put it back up to his ear.

"Was that request too weird?"

"Not weird, just…unexpected." Recovering, he asked, "How will I bypass the fingerprint access to your suite?"

"I'll have JARVIS override it to allow yours."

Bruce nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Which dress is it?"

"You'll know it when you see it. Currently it's the only party dress in my closet. Thanks so much, Bruce. You're a big help. My own personal fairy godmother."

That was a new one. He hoped she didn't repeat it later in front of Tony.

"You know, I never thought the fairy godmother was all that great," he remarked. "Why did the ball gown have to turn back to rags at the stroke of midnight?"

"We don't have to worry about that tonight. It's New Year's Eve. Midnight's when the magic starts."

Bruce didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but he couldn't wait to find out.

As the Raleigh-Durham Airport's resident superhero, Natasha had a fleeting thought that she should stop the angry stranded travelers from mobbing the gate agents' desk. Instead, she quickened her pace as she strode down the concourse, away from what had been her gate, one hand gripping the shoulder strap of her bag, the other pressing her phone to her ear so she could hear the phone ringing at the other end of the line. Airport security could deal with the mob.

When it went to Bruce's voice mail, she hung up, stopped walking. Told herself as she stared at the screen that it was silly to feel disappointed after she'd already had the ultimate in disappointing news tonight. Just as she'd slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and resumed walking, it vibrated in her pocket.

"Hey," Natasha said, stepping off to the side of the main walkway.

"Sorry I didn't pick up," Bruce's voice crackled over the line. "I was in the middle of pressing your dress and was afraid I'd have an ironing incident if I tried to answer the phone."

"Good call. Otherwise I might have to call you Bruce Burner."

His groan turned into a pained-sounding chuckle, but Natasha's smirk faded almost as soon as it had formed.

"It wouldn't have mattered anyway," she said, fingers curling tighter around the phone as she pressed it to her ear. "My flight just got canceled. All the flights out of Raleigh did."

"Oh. That's…really disappointing."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed, leaning back against the wall. In spite of that, she felt her smile returning at the idea that the feeling was mutual.

Whatever Bruce said next was swallowed up by the horde coming her way.

"What was that?" she asked when she could hear again.

"I asked if you're going to get a hotel. Are the cabs even running, if the airport's shut down?"

Natasha watched the retreating backs of the crowd that had just moved past, stragglers still coming from the gate. "Nah, too much hassle going through security again if I leave and come back. Not to mention the way Southerners deal with snow storms…"

"The bread and the milk!" Bruce said.

"I'll camp out."

"Sensible but…I don't know, sad. It's New Year's Eve."

"I've spent New Years in much worse places." She resumed walking. "And you'd better believe I'll be getting the best champagne RDU has to offer on the company card."

"I'll be sure to tell Tony. And to call you during the countdown. Or video call," he amended, "so it'll be almost like you're there."

Natasha glanced down at her outfit, jeans, jacket, and sneakers, slightly rumpled and smelly from a day in airports and on planes. "So underdressed. Too bad my fairy godscientist only irons. Thanks, by the way. I'm sure you had better things to do."

"Like be annoyed by Tony?" In a softer tone, Bruce added, "It was no trouble. It's…a really nice dress, by the way. I'm sure you would've looked really…nice in it."

She pressed her lips together at his halting and repetitive compliment, as he rambled on.

"Black and white, and kind of vintage…Like you stepped out of an old movie."

"That old thing?" Natasha slipped into her 1940s Hollywood starlet voice, tinged with Brooklyn accent. "I only wear that on when I don't care how I look."

Bruce chuckled. "Glad to hear It's a Wonderful Life made a lasting impression on you."

They'd watched it together over video chat while she was at the farm.

After she got off the phone with Bruce, she called Clint to let him know she was stranded in Raleigh and to tell Laura she could say I told you so, which Laura did. They talked for a few minutes as Natasha wandered around the terminal in search of dinner, mostly reminiscing about terrible New Year's Eves they'd spent on assignment. Funny, Natasha thought after they hung up and she sat on a barstool, waiting for her order to come out, many of those holidays had been spent by herself, and she hadn't felt the loneliness quite like she did now. When she got her food, she tolerated eating alone for all of five minutes before she broke out her tablet and called Bruce again, this time on video.

He was as surprised as he had been when she called him while he was ironing, and she decided to make him squirm a little more by paying him a compliment.

"Look at you, all dressed up and nowhere to go."

He raked his teeth over his lower lip in that self-conscious expression, but replied, "The pitfall of living where the party is."

"But just think of all the money you save on cabs." She reached into the greasy paper bag on the table and drew out a couple of fries. Swirling them around in the plastic cup of ketchup, she said, "I see you took Tony's relentless fashion advice and went with the skinny tie."

The tip of the tie appeared in the frame as Bruce drew it up, brow furrowing and eyes crinkling at the corners as he inspected it. "If by taking his fashion advice you mean wore literally the only tie left in my closet because Tony stole them all and replaced them with this one."

Natasha snorted as she bit into her fries. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. But it is a good look on you."

"Don't tell him that."

"I'm not. I'm telling you."

"Thanks." Bruce's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He reached up, started to run his fingers through his styled hair, but then caught himself. "So not only are you spending the night in the airport, but you didn't even splurge for dinner on the company card? You're eating a burger and fries?"

"With bacon," she said, picking up the burger from its paper wrapper.

"Oh, well in that case…"

"RDU weirdly has a lot of seafood restaurants, and airport seafood just strikes me as an unwise decision. I don't mind spending the night in the airport, but the airport bathroom? That's a no-go."

"Smart choice."

"Anyway…" She leaned in to take a bite of burger. "It's Five Guys."

"No, thanks, I'm good," Bruce turned to address someone off-screen, presumably a waiter, then turned back to the camera. "Honestly, I'm a little jealous. I could go for Five Guys about now instead of hors d'oeuvres."

"Too much rich people food for you, Banner?"

He looked sheepish, but replied, "Exactly."

"Schmoozing at academic functions must have been torture."

"Almost as much as watching you eat those fries."

Natasha reached into the bag and drew out another couple, which she waved in front of her tablet screen. "They're the Cajun ones."

He made a little whimpering sound as she ate them, slowly.

"You can get even with me by taking me around and showing me the hors d'oeuvres," she said. "I happen to love rich people food. And schmoozing doesn't bother me. Although the key is to pretend to be someone else."

"You want to mingle?" Bruce asked.

"Let me finish my burger and find some place a little more private."

The man who'd just sat down at the spot beside Natasha was glancing back and forth between her and her tablet, recognition dawned on his face. She ended the call and turned to him.

"Yeah. I totally look just like the Black Widow, don't I? I get it all the time." She stuffed the rest of the burger into her mouth, grabbed her sack of fries, and left the eating area.

Unfortunately, privacy was hard to come by in an airport full of stranded holiday passengers, even if some of them had ventured out into the snowstorm to find hotels for the night. So hard to come by, that for an insane moment she almost considered camping out in a bathroom after all. She needed an outlet to charge her phone and tablet even more, so she plopped down near a girl in an NYU sweatshirt and headphones charging her devices in the hope of claiming the outlet when she was done.

Bruce's face barely appeared on her tablet screen when his thumb swiped across to change the camera direction to display the party lounge. The Christmas tree, which towered up to the second level, was still up, its hundreds of LEDs reflecting off the metallic ornaments scattering a bright, warm glow across the room. Pepper had chosen the scheme, and her decorator stuck to it despite Tony's pleas and attempts to bribe him to make it chrome red and gold with an Iron Man tree topper he'd fabricated, completed with mini arc reactor.

"Who do you want to talk to first?" asked Bruce's disembodied voice.

"Um…" Natasha scanned the crowd as he panned the room. "Take me over to Thor."

"Hey, Thunder God," she said, and he pivoted around, his narrowing in confusion when he saw Bruce approaching, but not the person who had addressed him. He looked down at the flagon in his hand-Tony had made sure to stock flagons for whenever Thor was in residence-then registered the phone in Bruce's hand.

"Natasha," he boomed. "What ill tidings when Banner informed us you would be unable to attend the party. I offered to lead a rescue mission, but-"

"About that," she cut him off, "can't you do anything useful with the weather? Like call off the snowstorm?"

His noble brow furrowed. "Why would I wish to stop the snow? It is beautiful."

"No wonder the Norse revered him as a god, huh?" Bruce joked, turning the camera back to himself.

"Well what do you say, Banner?" Natasha said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

A snort from the NYU student drew her attention; the girl glanced quickly away.

"The snow, that is," Natasha clarified, though surprisingly, Bruce wasn't embarrassed.

In fact, he mirrored her smirk.

"Does that mean I have to go first?" he asked.

"Actually, I'd better take a break," Natasha said. "I'm scandalizing people, and my battery's almost dead. Time to find an outlet."

"You can have mine," the girl said, shoving her belongings into her backpack. "You need it more than I do." She uncrossed her legs, stood, hiking the straps up over her shoulders. "Have fun with your boyfriend."

"TEN…NINE…EIGHT…"

Bruce and the Avengers and their party guests assembled at the Tower chanted as they clustered around the Christmas tree, gazing up at the digital countdown JARVIS displayed.

Natasha and the dozens of strangers chanted as they gathered around the airport bar, gazing up at the Times Square countdown on the TV.

"SEVEN…SIX…FIVE…"

Bruce and Natasha dropped out of the countdown, which receded to background noise, as their eyes met on the screens of their phones.

She smiled at him, softly. He smiled back.

Somehow, what had started out as a disappointment had turned into one of the more memorable New Year's Eves of Bruce's life, thanks to the virtual party they'd had. And it wasn't even midnight yet. That's when the magic starts, her husky voice snaked through his ears over the buzz of the countdown.

"FOUR…THREE…TWO…"

Her fingers curled around the stem of her champagne glass as she lifted it from the bar. He raised his glass a little higher, into the frame of the phone camera.

"ONE…"

As time seemed to stop, lingering on the final second of the old year, his heart sped up in anticipation of the first moment of the new.

Natasha's lips puckered.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Warm lips pressed against Bruce's. Not the imagined sensation of Natasha's as she blew him a kiss, which he didn't see because a pair of hands had cupped his face and distracted him from the video on his phone just before the kiss.

"Tony!" came Pepper's exasperated voice.

"Sorry, Pep," Tony replied, drawing back, releasing Bruce. "Sometimes I just get overwhelmed by his sexy, sexy mind."

Wiping off his lips, Bruce returned his attention to his phone, and saw that Natasha, too, had disappeared from frame.

"Sorry," they said at the same moment, as she came back. "Had to deal with an asshole at the bar who didn't think through the ramifications of kissing the Black Widow at midnight."

"Wish you'd been here to deal with Tony."

An eyebrow and one corner of her mouth hitched upward, briefly, then she found her champagne again. He raised his glass-which was a little less full than it had been before Tony accosted him; he realized, belatedly, that the cuff of his sleeve was wet, his hand sticky.

"Happy New Year, Bruce."

She touched the rim of her glass to the phone screen.

He clinked his glass against the video image of hers.

Yes, it was.