I know we're way past the holiday season but some reviewers on 'bring a burning candle with you' (yes, I'm looking at you Trekkiehood, Suteko1, and ControlyourGroupies) inspired me to do this short little one.
The candy cane comes out looking like a spear when Natasha pulls it from her mouth contemplatively. The tip is completely white, sharpened to a point from being in there so long. Unfolding her legs, she comes off the sofa, pads along stocking feet into Steve's office. Harsh light glares at her from the ceiling while she drifts over to stand next to him. Nearly finished candy cane in one hand, she rests the other lightly on his shoulder. He glances at her then, phone pressed to his ear. Looking past him, she reads the headlines open on his computer screen. Riots in France. She shakes her head and uses her sweet to gesture between the news article and his phone. He nods and shifts the receiver away from his mouth, as if he's about to say something to her. Then whoever is on the other end asks a question and he puts all of his focus back on that conversation.
Unoffended, Natasha moves to the window, the property spread out before her like a comforter stretched across a guest bed. There was snowfall earlier, several inches of white laying undisturbed on grass and tree and building alike. With half an ear, she listens in on Steve's phone call. It's difficult to tell when since she's only getting one side, but if she had to guess, she'd put her money on him speaking with a Minister of State. Steve's French is improving, though Natasha will have to continue his lessons if he expects to maintain direct communication with government officials on a regular basis.
It's late, well past ten o'clock by the time Steve finishes, dropping the phone back in its cradle with a sigh. Candy cane reduced to the lingering taste of peppermint on her tongue, Natasha comes back to the desk. Steve's already returned to clicking through the headlines but he pauses to look at her once she's standing next to him again. Natasha settles with her hip against the corner of the desk.
"We could go."
Steve blinks. "To France?"
"To the ball drop."
She can tell right away her suggestion has taken him aback. It's clearly not what he was expecting her to say.
"Come on. It'll be a chance to get out of here. You haven't left the compound since before Christmas," Natasha needles.
He rolls his eyes, absently straightens some papers in front of him.
"Please?" Natasha tilts her head as if she's a young girl and not a burdened woman who's living in a post-apocalyptic world. "It would only take a couple hours to drive over there." She's losing his attention and only has a moment to pull him back. "At least we know the crowds won't be as bad as last year."
As soon as she's said it, she knows it's the wrong thing to say. To him, now, after what happened earlier this year. She doesn't usually backpedal in conversations, and the Black Widow never apologizes, but she finds herself stumbling to take it back.
Steve holds up a hand, cuts her off. "Look, Nat. I don't really feel like going out, okay? Not tonight."
She wishes it didn't sting like it does when he turns back to his computer, to his headlines and the messes he's always trying to fix. When he dismisses her.
Swallowing her hurt, she says one last thing before she goes. "Rocket's putting A Christmas Story on again. Seems like he can't get enough of that movie." In the doorway, she pauses, looks over her shoulder. "You should join us."
The click of keyboard keys slows but doesn't stop. Steve never turns around. Natasha leaves, sits with the others while the movie plays. But she's not watching it. Not really.
Midnight comes. Rhodey pours everyone a drink and they toast the new year. Rocket and Nebula start a competition, lining their glasses along the bar top. Rhodey excuses himself to bed. Natasha nurses what's left in her cup, finishes it and wanders off. She seems to be heading for the kitchen but there's a light on in Steve's office and so she takes a detour.
Slipping inside, she finds him in a similar position to the one he was in three hours ago. It's her turn to sigh now. His head is bent over a file and he's scribbling notes in it. Natasha slides nearer, silent, just watching him. The crease of his knit brows makes him look older, more worried and beaten down than he would like anyone to know. After a moment's hesitation, she throws caution to the wind and crosses the room in a few quick steps.
He looks up just in time for her to take his face in her hands and then she's kissing him. It's nothing fiery or passionate or sexual. But it's warm and long and after the initial shock, he relaxes. She can feel how his shoulders drop their tension and his fists unclench and he lets her kiss him. When she thinks he's gotten the message, she pulls away, slowly though because this is an unhurried, casual sort of thing.
His lashes brush down a couple times as he clears his throat and searches her face. "What was that for?"
Natasha shrugs. "It's tradition to ring in the New Year with a kiss."
Steve glances at the clock. "It's 12:43."
"Better late than never."
He leans back in his chair, evaluates her. "Any New Year's resolutions?" he asks finally.
"Dieting and exercise," Natasha says because it's obvious how little either of them need that.
"I wasn't going to say anything but since you bring it up…" Steve goes along.
Natasha smiles but it turns thoughtful soon enough. "I don't know. Maybe I'll tackle a bigger project."
"Like what?" Steve prompts, linking his hands behind his head.
"Like teaching a fossil how to have fun in the modern era." Her tone is playful but her eyes are sincere and Steve looks away, dropping his hands to his lap.
"Sounds like a lot of work," he manages, voice sort of flat and not quite nonchalant.
"I've always enjoyed a challenge." Natasha takes one of his hands, draws his eyes back to her. "It's a new year, Steve."
He's staring at her now, intense and earnest. Waiting for what she's going to say next, like a man gone overboard waits for the tossed life preserver.
"2020," she states, covering their joined hands with her other palm. "Fresh start."