It was the second annual New Years party that was held at the Avengers Tower. And it was a chilly New Year's Eve night in the city of New York.
Clint observed the party from his nest, glass of wine in hand. He drank wisely, unlike a certain someone he knew, who was clearly already tipsy. A very intoxicated Tony Stark was twirling his girlfriend, Pepper Potts ungracefully around on the dance floor. Pepper looked thoroughly embarrassed, but her flushed cheeks told Clint that she may have had a drink or two; and knowing her it was to calm her nerves and prepare herself to deal with her man beforehand. She was smart.
Every Avenger was present, as well as Thor's friends from Asgard, SHIELD agents and staff, and even Nick Fury himself. The archer's close eye traveled further into the party. He spotted Bruce, who appeared to be in deep conversation about something science-y with Jane Foster, who looked lovely in her long, elegant body-fitting blue dress, and a new face-Gwen Stacy. And a few feet to the right stood Steve and Natasha; the soldier looking dashing in his suit and red white and blue tie (how typical), and Natasha looking breathtakingly beautiful next to him. Her dress, like many females present, was long and hugged her curves in all the right places; the color was a velvet, midnight black, shining red on the inside if she turned her ankles swiftly enough. Her hair was slung over one side in long curls, her lips a killer red. The two teammates were talking to a newcomer of the Avengers; Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man, at the ripe age of 21, kept his suit simple with a black bowtie. Clint liked the kid, and he thought the big sister/little brother dynamic Nat had with him was kinda cute, considering they were both spiders. When Peter first came, Steve and Tony argued like an old married couple when it came to clothing. (When Peter first came to them, he wasn't exactly in the best shape.)
Thor was nowhere in sight, but he could tell his big friend was somewhere outside, most likely showing what's-their-faces the view from up there.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of gold and turned. The first person he laid eyes on was Darcy Lewis, whose dress was forest green and sweetheart cut. She was crossing her arms stubbornly, bottom lip jutted out in a pout as she looked up at the man in green and gold. Yes, it was Loki. Of Asgard. The asshole with glorious purpose. He'll give you the whole speech if you let him. Clint still didn't like the guy, and clearly neither did Nat. Why couldn't the guy stay dead? Clint mused.
"Can you please look like you're not about to kill somebody?" he overheard Darcy say.
Loki smiled crookedly, then transformed before her eyes. His armor was replaced with a simple dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, a black vest, matching slacks and shiny shoes, and a loosened tie; his hair morphed into a shorter, curvier cut that he thought would be appropriate, his blazer hanging limply from his hand. "Will this suffice for you?"
Darcy blushed, looking down at her shoes. In response, he tucked her chin up with his finger, giving her a soft smile as he wrapped the blazer around her shoulders. "The temperature is rather low. I wouldn't want you to get a chest cold."
"How romantic," she deadpanned, but closed her eyes as he closed the space between them...
Ugh. Clint cut his eyes away, wanting to wash them out with soap. Then burn them with acid. Sigh...there was just some things he will never understand.
Knowing that he wasn't going to get that image out of his head anytime soon, Clint decided that he needed a distraction. His first thought was to go to Nat, but he froze in his tracks awkwardly when a slow song started to play and it looked like Steve was asking her to dance, looking pink in the face. (She accepted it, of course.) The archer watched the spy and the soldier sway with unblinking eyes, feeling a sudden bitter feeling in his stomach. What was with everyone pairing off anyway? Tony had Pep, Peter had been with Stacy since high school, Steve and Nat were so obvious it was almost vomit-inducing, Thor and Jane were inseparable, Bruce was still hung up over Betty...even Reindeer Games over here and Darcy had the hots for each other!
And the only thing that Clint had been turning on lately was his comm. on missions.
This was making him depressed, so he decided to get some air on the balcony. But before he reached the halfway point, his gaze stopped on something far more captivating.
A woman.
He vaguely recognized her from the SHIELD footage of the day Loki sent the Destroyer. But he nearly missed her. She looked so different in formal, normal wear. Her dress was the same color as his drink, touching the floor. He had a good eye-full of her flawless back, momentarily mesmerized. She had straps that criss-crossed down to the back of her shoulders, making it a halter dress. Then she turned-ummfff-raising her glass to her lips. Her jet black hair was piled up on top of her head, loose strands curled around to cradle each side of her face. Her lips were a soft pink, supple, with stunning hazel eyes and dark eyeliner that made her face just pop. Clint stayed rooted to the spot, his tie suddenly feeling twelve times tighter.
"You're drooling."
Clint sent a smirk in Natasha's direction without really looking at her. "Where's your boyfriend?"
"Getting my drink," she said bluntly, and Clint chuckled. He loved messing with her when it came to Steve, so it didn't surprise him much when she would let his snide comments slide sometimes. Tonight would count, since it's holiday. She seemed to have followed her partner's gaze because she spoke again, "Don't even try, Barton. Every time a man approaches her, she'd give them the death glare. They run away, peeing their pants."
"I don't know, she sounds like you, Nat," said Clint, finally looking over at his friend. Her green eyes narrowed at his comment. "I think I saw you two talking earlier. Did you catch her name?"
"Sif," said Natasha. Just then, Steve approached the duo with her drink, and Natasha glanced at the clock. "If you're gonna bust a move, do it now. You have ten minutes."
"Ten minutes until what?" Steve couldn't help but ask as Clint walked away.
"We'll just see, won't we?" said Natasha with a little smile, taking her glass.
.
Clint approached the goddess, draining the last of his wine-he was gonna need it. She didn't acknowledge him, her gaze trained on the outside.
"You enjoying the party, ma'am?"
He inwardly winced. Did I just pull a Cap? No I did not just pull a Cap move. I never say ma'am!
Sif then turned, taking in the thirty-first mundane who approached her. Out of all the others, at least he had some ounce of respect. She was beginning to have second thoughts about Midgard. He actually looked rather dashing in his black suit and tie, noting that the color of his dress shirt matched her dress.
"I suppose," she said, and he visibly relaxed more.
"You're one of Thor's friends," he continued, treading carefully. "Sif, right?"
Turning to him more fully, arms crossed, she regarded him with a long knee-buckling look, saying nothing. But a slight tilt of her chin urged him to continue with an outstretched hand.
"Clint Barton. Agent of SHIELD."
He smiled when she took it, their hands shaking once before she drew hers away.
"You're the Eye of Hawks Thor speaks of," she said with realization.
"Yeah, heh, I'm Hawkeye." He nodded. "Do a little hero work now and then. You do too, I've heard."
"Oh?"
"Uh huh. Thor tells us all the time about how you kick ass out there on the field."
Sif smiled. "You're not wrong."
Clint checked the time. 2 minutes to go.
"Wanna learn about a tradition we do here?" he asked, stepping closer to her.
"You mean besides celebrating the coming of the new year in this Realm?" said Sif curiously. "There's more?"
1 minute.
"Well, yeah. You see, at the right time, all of us start to count down until the New Year-you know, all at once."
"I see. This task doesn't sound difficult."
"Yeah."
30 seconds.
"And, um," Clint scratched the back of his head. "As soon as we hit zero, the fireworks go off...and-er, what happens is..."
15 seconds.
"You have to kiss someone," he rushed out.
Sif stared at him.
"TEN!"
Shit.
"This is customary?" she said.
"Well, you don't have to-"
"SEVEN! SIX!"
"-I mean, I'm just letting you know-"
"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO!"
"-Just in case, you know, you won't kill a guy if someone tries to plant one on ya-"
"ONE!"
The fireworks went off, everyone screaming, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Tony was the first to pull Pepper to him and start kissing her; Jane jumped in Thor's arms and kissed him passionately; Darcy and Loki leaned in for the kiss at the same time; Volstagg and Fandral grabbed the women they were talking with and kissed them, eager to be doing such a tradition; Peter and Gwen engaged in a brief, loving lip-lock; Bruce and Hogun got pecks on the cheek from Agent Hill and another female agent; and to put the icing on the cake, the Avengers saw Steve boldly dip Natasha and kiss her.
Clint was still stammering, but that was until another set of lips captured his, silencing him; slender hands grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to her. His stiff body soon relaxed, realizing that it was Sif who had grabbed him and started kissing him, and opened his mouth a little against hers for air before he dived back in. If this was her first kiss with a mortal like him, in which it was, he was going to make sure that it was the best damn kiss she ever received. His hands found her spine and the small of her back, slowly traveling down to grip her hips. Her hands gradually moved upwards, twining around his neck, and her fingers twisted, caressing through his hair. The sensations he was feeling was unparalleled. He actually did it. He was actually kissing a goddess.
Sif inclined her head, kissing him slowly to let him know that she was about to pull away; but something in her made her not want to stop. He was just a mortal man. What made him so...so alluring? She had not the faintest clue. Her fingers came around, hands cupping his face, and her lips unattached from his with a soft smack. Her body, flush against his, screamed in protest. He was warm, soft, like anyone made up weaker than she was would feel like. But there was a roughness to him that she couldn't decipher. She could tell in the midst of their embrace, feel the firm sinew of his muscles under the pads of her fingertips.
Clint opened his eyes, staring into hers; he was rendered speechless, reluctantly releasing his hold on her. Sif's hands slid off his chest at the same pace, and the space between them gradually went back to the appropriate length.
"It's been a pleasure, Eye of Hawks," she said, retreating at a leisurely pace. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, and neither could he.
Clint felt every eye of his teammates, gawking in his direction, and he was even able to identify Natasha's smug stare. They had seen. They had saw everything. "Touché."
Happy New Year, everyone :)