"A Family Christmas"
"Who thought it was a good idea to do a five hundred piece Christmas jigsaw in the shape of a reindeer?"
"Seven hundred and fifty pieces, actually," Bruce replied from the sofa, making Phil jump. He was lying down, hidden out of view, and poked his head up over the back. He snorted as he tried to suppress a laugh. "Nice sweater."
"If I told you who made it for me, she'd have to kill us both," he said. "I'm just grateful she didn't buy me jeans with a snowflake on the ass."
"That would've screamed of an open invitation," Bruce said. When he realised what he'd said out loud, he blushed, and then ducked down again. "I mean, for teasing."
"Of course that's what you meant," Phil said. "Who's supposed to be doing this puzzle?" Bruce heard the pieces moving around in the box, so presumably Phil was looking at the picture or dimensions.
"I'm planning to set it up for people to come along and add a few pieces at a time," he said. "Just something to work on during the day."
"Mmm. Assuming no one finishes it all in ten minutes. Merry Christmas, by the way."
"Merry Christmas, Phil."
In the elevator, Clint climbed on while it was only Tony inside.
"Merry Christmas," he said, and he leaned against the wall beside Tony. They were up the top of the tower, Tony because he liked penthouse, and Clint because he loved having a bird's eye view of the city.
"Merry Christmas," Tony said, and he elbowed Clint. "A song told me to deck the halls, so I did. Mr. and Mrs. Hall aren't very happy right now."
Clint chuckled, one foot resting against the wall while the elevator moved leisurely down towards the common floor. "We should stock up on advent calendars, because their days are numbered."
"Snap," Tony said. "What're your plans for today?"
"Push Barnes and Rogers under the mistletoe, and hope for the best."
"And… who are you hoping to catch under the mistletoe?" he asked, leaning a little closer.
Clint opened his mouth to reply, when there was a ding, and the doors opened. Bucky and Steve walked into the elevator together, since they were sharing a floor while Bucky's was furnished. Tony and Clint looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
"What?" Steve said.
"Nothing, nothing," Tony said, getting himself under control. "We were just… telling each other Christmas jokes. Did you hear the one about the man who stole an advent calendar?"
"He got twenty-five days," Clint added.
"You're terrible," Steve said.
"We know," they replied, and they fist-bumped.
After Christmas brunch, the Avengers and friends vege-d out in front of the television, the Christmas tree sitting beside it. Phil was in the middle of the sofa, with Natasha tucked under one arm and Clint tucked beneath the other. No one drew attention to the fact that they were curled up, each discreetly with a hand on the edge of his red and white diagonally striped sweater. Tony had called him a candy cane, and asked who was going to be doing the licking. Phil volunteered him to make the popcorn for the Christmas movies in retaliation.
"This holiday is indeed pleasant," Thor said. "I do not know this Christ, but I am glad of his birth if it means this merriment." He held up a flagon of highly alcoholic eggnog. When they'd been preparing it, even Steve had felt a little dizzy. Thor didn't seem affected by it at all, reclining in an armchair with Jane across his lap. Tony brought out the popcorn with minimal grumbling, and distributed the bowls. Only Thor, Steve, and Bucky seemed to have room for any more food.
They'd ruled out a number of Christmas films, based on them being too depressing, too trigger-y, or too childish. That left corny family films, although Rhodey insisted on The Muppets' Christmas Carol and the Home Alone films.
"Because Muppets," he said. "And the Home Alone movies… the trained fighters in this room will find them hilarious on a whole other level."
JARVIS paused the second film partway through just a second before the elevator doors parted. Darcy skipped into the room, followed by… Santa Claus?
"Ho-freaking-ho," Fury said dully, dragging a red sack behind him. Tony and Clint fell against each other in tears of laughter. The others were (slightly) better at hiding their amusement. Phil managed to maintain a neutral expression.
"Merry Christmas, sir," he said. "Miss Lewis."
"Hey, iPod-thief," she said. "We can't stop for long. My man Santa's here to drop off some loot on the way to see my family."
"I still don't know how that happened," Fury muttered. He obediently deposited the presents under the tree while Darcy talked the others' ears off.
"…and he said okay, but only because he's getting lucky tonight," she finished off. That was definitely the end of it, because Fury picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, before carrying her to the elevator.
"You'd better not say that in front of your father, because I don't know where he keeps his shotgun," he said.
"Bye, everyone!" Darcy said, waving. "Nick, I have the best view of your ass from here." She patted it. They missed his reaction, because the doors closed at that moment. But God knows Darcy had the director wrapped around her little finger. Somehow.
At some point, Bruce completed the frame of the puzzle, leaving the rest of it for someone else to do. No one seemed particularly interested, so Phil waited until no one was looking – especially Bruce – and found some matching pieces. He managed to form Santa's sleigh and part of the barn behind it. He began to attract attention from some of his drowsy charges, so he retreated to the kitchen for black coffee. Someone needed to be alert, someone who wasn't a sugar-infused demi-god. (Thor really, really liked iced gingerbread. Jane had a lot to answer for.)
He watched for a minute, smiling, as Bucky and Steve made rum truffles. They were joking about getting sticky, and Steve was telling Bucky off for licking his hands.
"At least wash them before you continue," he said.
"Just have to change this," Bucky protested, indicating the latex glove covering his metal hand.
"No, you definitely licked your right index finger," Steve said. "Wash up."
"Why, Rogers, I didn't know you were paying so much attention to what I lick," Bucky said. Steve spluttered, and Phil decided to make his presence known by clearing his throat. Bucky looked annoyed, and Steve was blushing furiously.
"Should I come back later?" Phil asked.
"No, no, of course not," Steve said. "What can we help you with, Phil?"
"Just getting coffee," Phil said. The coffee machine kicked into gear, and he grabbed his mug from the cupboard. "Thanks, JARVIS."
Clint stared at Bruce from his position on the floor, in a makeshift nest of cushions and blankets. Bruce's face brightened when he looked at the table where the puzzle was.
"Someone's kicked us off," he said. "Clint, you've got good eyesight. Aren't you going to have a go?"
"Not really my thing," Clint said. "Ask Jane. She likes patterns."
Bruce nodded. "Where are the others?"
"Eh, dunno." He shrugged.
"Where's Tony?"
"Getting the keyboard."
"Aha. So you knew that."
Clint scowled at Bruce, who just smiled back at him sweetly.
"We're all gonna sing, whether you like it or not," Clint said. "I can see you playing something romantic. To Phil?"
Bruce's smile faded. "No."
"No to Phil or no to music?"
"Music. I mean, and, uh…"
Clint waved his hand. "Don't embarrass yourself. We won't make you play."
"'We'?"
"Tony and…" He cleared his throat. "Anyway—"
"Nope," Bruce said. "You tease, I tease. At least your crush is reciprocated."
"`Tisn't," Clint said petulantly.
"It is. He doesn't shut up about you whenever we're working in the lab together. Do you know how much time he spends on making trick arrows for you? More than he does on tech for anyone else, including SHIELD and Stark Industries."
Clint was silent for a minute, staring at Bruce unwaveringly. Then he was all movement, tumbling acrobat-like out of his nest and running for the elevator. The doors slid open just as he got there. It was Tony, with the keyboard box beside him. His eyes grew wide as Clint flew at him.
"Wha—"
"Shut up," Clint said, and he kissed Tony.
The last Bruce saw before the doors closed was Tony wrapping his arms around Clint. The only pang in his heart was one of jealousy, but not for them. For what they had.
Steve frowned as he entered the living room alone. No one was around. He'd heard something about a musical keyboard, but it wasn't there, either. The tree – presents long opened and taken to rooms – remained in place. He noticed the mistletoe hanging over the doorway, and inched out of the way.
"JARVIS, where is everyone?" he asked.
"Dr. Foster is retrieving the keyboard from the elevator," JARVIS replied. "Sir and Agent Barton are in Sir's bedroom," Steve's jaw dropped, "Agent Coulson is in the kitchen next door, Agent Romanov is finishing her book, Mr. Odinsson is… now with Dr. Foster, bringing the keyboard to this floor. Dr. Banner is in the bathroom, Colonel Rhodes is in his bedroom Skyping Miss Potts, Mr. Wilson is in his bedroom on the phone with an old army friend, and Sergeant Barnes is in the garage, oiling his arm."
"Agent Coulson is now in the living room," Phil said, joining Steve. "Have you tried the puzzle yet?"
"The what?" Phil indicated the jigsaw. "No, I haven't. Isn't someone else doing that?"
"Bruce set it up for all of us to have a go."
"Oh. Well, maybe later. I was gonna draw." He held up his sketchpad.
"Assuming you can get away with it once Tony's got us singing around the campfire," Phil said, sitting down at the table with the jigsaw. He frowned. "Am I the only one working on this?" He began piecing more of it together. "So. You and James."
"You can call him Bucky, you know. He won't mind."
"I'd rather he give me permission first."
"He thinks you'd consider it too informal, and that you'd only do it to please him," Steve said. Phil glanced at him, lips quirking into a half-smile.
"Did he tell you that, or do you know him that well?" he asked.
"We're friends. We've been friends for a long time. Of course I know him that well."
"And how much better would you like to know him?"
Steve floundered for a moment, and tried to give his attention to his sketching. "I… I don't need to know him any better."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Agent Coulson." If the formality didn't make Phil back off, nothing would.
"Maybe, knowing each other the way you do, a romantic relationship would be easy to get off the ground."
No backing off, then.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I'm not going to confuse him by trying to add romance to the mix. I don't know whether he'd fully understand my intentions, and whether he'd go along with it because he trusts me, or… It's too uncertain."
"Otherwise you'd make a move," Phil said. He'd given up working on the puzzle, clearly, since he was now approaching Steve. He sat on the arm of the couch, studying the uncomfortable captain. "Am I right?" Steve looked down, clutching his pencil. "If you didn't have those reservations, you would tell him how you feel?"
"I… I don't know. He's never given any indication that he'd want to be with a man."
"Gender doesn't matter with true love."
"And you'd know that, wouldn't you?" Steve said, eyes snapping up to meet Phil's. "With Bruce." Phil stiffened. Under the power of Steve's don't-lie-to-Captain-America stare, his shoulders drooped.
"We don't have your history," he said.
"So you get to start from scratch. There isn't a long-established friendship between you. If things don't work out, you won't be destroying a friendship that bordered on brotherhood. You'll go back to a working relationship and build up to friendship again from there. After everything Bucky's been through, it'd be so much harder to rebuild that level of friendship and trust that we have at the moment, and always have had."
"But you already love each other," Phil pointed out. "As brothers and friends. You'd just be changing that love. It could change back afterwards."
"That love's already changed on my part," Steve said. "And… I wouldn't know what to tell him."
"Sirs," JARVIS said.
"Yes, JARVIS?" Phil asked.
"Your conversation will no longer be private in approximately three seconds' time."
"Thank you," Steve said, inordinately grateful to be living under JARVIS's watchful eyes. Or coding. Whatever it was.
"Is it just us?" Jane said, leaving the elevator. She was carrying the keyboard, despite Thor's attempts to take it from her. "It isn't that heavy, you know."
"I would not be a gentleman if I did not at least offer to relieve you of your burden," Thor said.
"You can help me set it up, okay?"
"Very well."
"Just try not to fry the electronics. I told Tony we should move to the room with the piano, but he didn't listen to me."
"I think this plugs into the TV… somehow," Bruce said. Steve nearly snorted in laughter at the way Phil started. Bruce didn't seem to notice, eyeing the puzzle. He smiled a little, probably happy that someone was working on it. Pity he didn't know that Phil was that someone. About to open his mouth and spill the beans, the elevator doors pinged again, and Clint emerged, alone.
"Tony won't be long," he said, attempting to flatten his hair. "Where's Natasha?"
"She is on the second-to-last page," JARVIS said. "She told me to tell you to stop harassing her to hurry up."
"I haven't been," Clint said, brow furrowing.
"I am aware of that. She, however, is unaware that you have been… with Sir."
"Oh." Clint blushed as the others sniggered. "Okay, then."
"I am nearly finished, Steve," Bucky said. Then he looked up, and saw that his intruder wasn't Steve. "Tony?"
"Coming to see how you're getting on, get you to come upstairs," Tony said. "We're gonna start the sing-along soon."
"Is that supposed to tempt me to hurry up?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. He smiled nonetheless, and capped off the oil can. Without asking for permission, Tony picked up a rag and began to clean the excess off.
"Let me know as soon as you want something which doesn't require manual oiling," he said. "It doesn't have to be like the Iron Man armour."
"Why would you help me?" Bucky said as Tony threw the cloth into a bin. "Knowing how your parents died…"
Tony winced, but shrugged. "You were less culpable for that than I was for thousands of people dying by my weapons," he said. "Yinsen – the guy who saved my life – his family were killed because of me, yet he kept me alive because he believed I could do great things."
"You do," Bucky said, pulling his hoodie back over his shirt.
"Yinsen gave his life saving me. I'm not saying I'd take a bullet for you – let's be honest, if I wasn't in the suit, you'd have a better chance of survival – but I'm not gonna be a dick because HYDRA brainwashed you into killing my parents. I barely knew my mom and hated my dad, which was never your fault. I thought Cap had got you past your self-pitying?"
"Not self-pity," Bucky muttered, following Tony to the elevator.
"Whatever it is, he's helped you. And, y'know, Dad always wondered about you two. I mean, yeah, I heard about Peggy Carter a lot, but whenever he talked about Steve, he'd usually say something about how you were obviously stuck on Cap. So why don't you do something about it, now that your asses can't be thrown in jail? Sure, the media would give you hell, but they'll give me hell for being in a relationship with Clint, so." He shrugged again. Bucky was left mentally reeling at the change of topic, not to mention Tony's last comment.
"You and Clint?" he said. "When did that finally happen?"
"Half an hour ago, or thereabouts," Tony said, just as they reached the common floor. "Wait, what do you mean, 'finally'?"
Bucky laughed, and met Steve's eyes. There was something soft in them; always had been. If there was any truth to Tony's words… But there couldn't be. Could there? Could Steve really look at him like that, knowing what Bucky had done? It was still sometimes hard to reconcile Past Bucky with Present Bucky and In-Between Bucky, and find the core of what Steve saw in him. As a friend, not a lover.
Could they be lovers? Would someone let him have that? Maybe if Steve didn't recoil from any indication, Bucky could take a chance on love.
It was a matter of picking the right time to strike. Clint was waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip into the vents and lure Bucky and Steve to the mistletoe, or grab some himself and dangle it over their heads from a convenient place. But people kept bugging him about 'finally' getting together with Tony. Apparently he really hadn't been subtle, which, okay, extremely insulting for a spy. Damnit. But he didn't care, because he was going to bed with someone tonight, and hopefully many nights after this.
Best Christmas present he could've hoped for, and the DVD box sets Natasha had bought him were awesome.
In the end, he didn't have an opportunity to shove Steve and Bucky under the mistletoe. Natasha had finished reading, and joined them while they were arguing over what music to play first. Jane had been cajoled into playing, since she'd taken lessons when she was younger. Clint would offer to take over for awhile, but not just yet.
Anyway, Natasha had taken one look at Bucky and Steve, standing close but not close enough, shooting each other alternating looks, and marched straight over to them. She grabbed them by the elbows and dragged them back to the doorway. While they all watched, she let go, ignoring their protests, and pushed them both under the mistletoe. Then she stepped back.
"Kiss," she said. "We'll be waiting until you do, so get it over with."
Steve looked at Bucky. Bucky looked at Steve. With a helpless shrug, Steve tilted his head and pressed his lips against Bucky's. He drew back hastily, a truly unsubtle blush staining his cheeks. He murmured something which was probably an apology, and he dropped his gaze.
Bucky's face lit up. He cupped Steve's chin and pulled him in for a proper kiss. Steve's eyes shot open with surprise. Then he smiled.
"Wow," he whispered. It was more a stage whisper, because they could all hear it. Or maybe it's because no one else was making a sound, preferring to watch the real-life drama taking place before them.
"Yeah," Bucky said. In the next moment, he had Steve pressed up against the other side of the doorframe, a hand buried in Steve's short hair, and kissing him for all he was worth. One by one, they all stopped watching. Clint turned his attention to Bruce and Phil, on opposite sides of the room. Whenever one looked at the other, the other would look away. It was kind of annoying. But another relationship had just been resolved; they'd wait awhile before tackling Coulsmash. Yeah, that was a good name. Clint was pleased with himself for coming up with it.
No, wait, he hadn't. That's why it'd come so easily to him. He'd read it when scrolling through Tumblr. Some people thought the Hulk and the Avengers' handler would be cute together which, actually, they would be. Already were, judging from some of the grainy pictures that civilians had taken of Phil with his hand on the Hulk's arm, or in his hand, or just looking up at him as they walked to a rendezvous site. He'd have to download some of the art and send it to Phil and Bruce as a sort of virtual Christmas gift. If it got them together before the end of the day, all the better.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful," Clint and Jane belted out. "But since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
The singing had been going on for half an hour, with people drifting back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. Steve kept checking the turkey, and they all contributed to the food preparation. Bruce and Phil managed never to be alone together in the kitchen, and neither could be drawn into singing 'All I Want for Christmas is You', which was frustrating.
Jane was flipping through one of the sheet music books, and grinned. She leaned down and whispered in Clint's ear just as he played the last few chords. He smiled back at her, nodding, and she placed the new music in front of him.
"Natasha, come sing this one," she said. "I know you know it."
Natasha frowned slightly, and approached. She sighed internally when she saw the Celine Dion number.
"I hate you," she murmured. Jane laughed.
"No, you don't," she said, pushing Natasha forwards. "Go on."
"This is blatant," Natasha told Clint. He sniggered.
"If they don't catch on from this, I'll despair," he said.
"Just play, Barton." She glanced at Phil and Bruce, who'd somehow been ushered closer together. She suspected that Steve's cajoling and puppy-dog eyes had something to do with it, judging by Bucky's smirk and glittering eyes.
"Don't get so busy that you miss," she sang, "giving just a little kiss to the ones you love." She at least had Phil's attention, and indicated Bruce with her eyes. "Don't even wait a little while, give them just a little smile. A little is enough." He moved half a step away, and she narrowed her eyes. "How many people are crying? People are dying? How many people are asking for love?"
Tony leaned against the piano, and joined in.
"Don't save it all for Christmas Day, find a way to give a little love every day," they chorused. "Don't save it all for Christmas Day. Find your way, `cause holidays have come and gone. But love lives on if you give on love."
Bruce was smiling as he listened, tapping his foot. It seemed he had no idea of the machinations going on, which was ridiculous, because he was supposed to be a genius. He was the personification of the bumper sticker 'I'm a physicist; flirt harder'. But he and Phil would no doubt be on their guard against being stuck under the mistletoe with anyone, let alone each other.
Clint joined the others, using the reflection from the black TV screen to check out the moves not being made.
"How many people are praying for love?" the trio sang. "So don't save it all for Christmas Day…"
Nothing came of the music, unfortunately. Bruce wandered into the kitchen to make salad for dinner, and Phil returned to the table with the jigsaw puzzle. He began fitting more pieces together. The others had, by silent agreement, kept away from it.
"You're getting close, aren't you?" Sam said, resting his hip against the table. Phil nodded.
"Well, no one else is bothering with it," he said. "My family… we used to do this at Christmas." He paused, and then placed another puzzle piece. "It's nice to return to that tradition after so many years."
"What other traditions did you have?" Sam asked. He pulled up a chair, and continued to watch Phil while the others sang.
"Mom and Dad kissed under the mistletoe. It was just a sprig Dad had had since they married, and he'd hold it over her head. I always got a book, and something Captain America-related. I…" He laughed softly. "I can't remember most of the presents I gave them. When I was younger, it was whatever we made at school. There's something about handmade gifts, isn't there?"
"Yeah."
"Then there were stupid traditions, like who put the angel on top of the tree, the food we had, the crackers we pulled. Most of it seems pretty insignificant now. But the mistletoe and the puzzles… they were important to me. Thinking back, my parents would set up the frame of the puzzle, and I'd fill in the middle. Larger puzzles as the years went by. It was like a little project for me, and kept me out of the way. I don't have any cousins, so it was always the grownups talking. At least if I was doing a jigsaw, I'd be in the same room, but I wouldn't have to participate in conversations which went over my head."
"That's sweet," Sam said.
"This… makes me feel like I'm home." There was a tremble in the last word, but Phil's expression was as implacable as ever. Sam looked up.
"Bruce is coming back," he said. Phil quickly stood, dropping the pieces he'd been holding. "Hey, why don't you just finish?"
"It's supposed to be for all of us," Phil said, moving away quickly. Sam shook his head, confused, and followed Phil back to the sofa. They all settled in to watch The Snowman. He didn't miss Bruce's perplexed smile as the doc saw that the jigsaw was nearly complete. Sam held his tongue. He'd have to wait for the perfect opportunity.
It came after dinner. They were all wearing their flimsy paper hats, had read the stupid jokes, and were playing with the various toys which had come in the top-quality Christmas crackers Tony had bought. Sam reckoned that the best part was that Bucky didn't flinch at the loud bangs of the crackers. No sign of them being a trigger. He noticed it with the others, but Bucky was still the most on edge out of all of them, which was saying a lot.
Natasha and Phil were passing through the door at the same time, one of the doors with mistletoe over the top. Bruce's eyes shuttered as Natasha pecked Phil on the lips, and he looked away. Sam cleared his throat.
"Phil, gonna finish off the puzzle?" he asked. "You're almost done. Pretty good, since you're the only one who's been working on it, aren't you?"
Phil coughed, evading eye contact with Bruce. "Yeah. I may as well. If no one has any objections?"
No one objected, and he disappeared through the doorway. Those who were left looked pointedly at Bruce.
"He hasn't just been doing this because it was a family tradition," Sam said. "He didn't want to disappoint you."
"Can you honestly not see that?" Jane said. "Does he even know why you set it up in the first place?"
Bruce shook his head. "I think he's forgotten that he told me about doing puzzles at Christmas," he admitted. "I told him it was for all of us to work on."
"So he is unaware that you created the situation solely for his happiness?" Thor said.
"…I guess so."
"That is hardly the way to go about courting. He must know of your intentions."
That should have been the cue for Bruce to start protesting that he wasn't 'courting' Phil, why would their handler even look at him twice, blah-blah-blah. He opened his mouth, probably to do just that. But he was observant smart enough to know that they'd all call him on his insecurities. Instead, he looked at the doorway, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
"Okay," he said. Even Sam felt a bit of surprise that he surrendered so easily. "Okay."
Then he left the room.
Phil was about to push the last jigsaw piece into place. For a moment, it was almost like he was a child again.
Then a hand wrapped around his, halting his progress. He knew that hand. He'd paid way too much attention to that hand, and its twin, and the rest of the body, really. He looked up into Bruce's dark eyes, and caught himself before he could sigh.
"Bruce?" he said.
"It's for you," Bruce said. "The puzzle. I did it… I did it for you, Phil. Because I wanted to make you happy. I want to… keep making you happy. This seemed like a good start, although I'll understand if you're not interested." He swallowed visibly.
"Are you… asking me on a date?" It didn't seem possible.
"I could. If you want me to?"
Phil nodded. "Help me with the last bit?"
He and Bruce snapped the final piece into place, and then Phil stood, pushing his chair back.
"The rule of three," he said. "It's like we're living a trope."
Bruce laughed. Phil stopped him with a gentle press of his lips. He liked that laugh; but he found that he liked the kissing even better.
By the end of the night, one established couple and three new couples were cuddled up together on various pieces of furniture and the floor, and the rest were draped around each other (though they'd deny it later). Comfortably full from second helpings of dessert, they were finishing the seventh film of the day – eighth if they included The Snowman – when the clock struck midnight. JARVIS had dimmed the lights.
"Okay, anyone who's got the energy, let's push back the furniture and expand the nest," Tony said.
"Or we could just go to bed," Clint said. "I was looking forward to that." Tony eyed him up and down.
"Actually, yeah," he said. "I'm tired. Grab your toothbrush and meet me in my room. Pyjamas optional."
"Ass. I'm not that easy."
"Fine. Pyjamas compulsory, snuggling… also compulsory. C'mon."
"Big nest tomorrow," Rhodey said. "This is seriously more comfortable than any pillow fort I've ever built. Or co-built, and building a pillow fort with Tony Stark is serious business."
"I make awesome pillow forts," Tony said through a yawn. Clint led him over to the elevator. "See you in the morning. Merry Christmas!"
They all made their way back to their rooms, one-by-one or two-by-two. Steve and Bucky could be as private as they wanted, since their rooms were right next door to each other, and instead went out onto the balcony to star-gaze before bed-time. Jane was giggling, slightly tipsy from eggnog, and Thor laughed as he helped her stand up. Bruce glanced at Phil nervously.
"Uh…"
"Dating first?" Phil said. Bruce looked relieved. "I'd still like a kiss goodnight."
"Before this turns into a love-fest, I'm going to bed," Natasha said. "Have a nice sleep… wherever it is."
She hugged each of them goodnight, which was a pleasant surprise, and left to get a mug of cocoa. Rhodey and Sam wished them goodnight, and also went upstairs, leaving Bruce and Phil looking at the completed puzzle.
"It was a nice thought," Phil said. "Thank you. I can't believe you remembered."
"I remember everything you've told me about yourself," Bruce said.
"I think I love you. Or… I will do."
Bruce wound his arms around Phil's waist from the side and nuzzled his neck.
"Me too," he said.
Out on the balcony, Steve and Bucky were silent as they watched the night sky. There were fireworks in the distance, in red and green and gold and white.
"I didn't think this would happen," Bucky said. "I wanted it to, and… it took me awhile to distinguish between dreams and real life. At first, I thought we'd been together, but they were just fantasies I'd had before the war even began. When I realised the truth…"
Steve sneaked an arm around Bucky's shoulders, and tugged him close. "I'd probably had the same dreams as you."
"I'm beginning to think you did," Bucky said dryly. Steve chuckled into his hair. "It's taken us so long to get here."
"Way too long," Steve said.
"But we did, in the end. That's why I'm dreading waking up tomorrow and finding that this never happened."
"I could go to sleep with you," Steve offered. "Just sleep. So you'll realise, when you wake up, that this wasn't a dream."
"I'd like that."
Finally, in Tony's room, Clint was clinging to him like an octopus. He was a grown man, and otherwise curled into a small ball; but his arms and legs were firmly clamped around Tony, who stared at him, bemused.
"This is how you sleep on an op?" he asked.
"If I have a pillow, yeah. I don't like to sleep without holding onto something, even if it's just a cushion or my bow case."
"Or, in my case, a someone."
"Only someone," Clint mumbled into his shoulder.
Tony stroked his side. "Can I keep you?"
"Forever, far as I'm concerned. G'night, Tony."
Beaming, Tony kissed the top of his head. "Good night, Clint. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Day-After-Christmas."
Written for a prompt on the kink meme, round 25, page 59. OP asked for something fluffy and Christmassy, and a bonus for certain pairings, which I've managed to incorporate. Partly because I adore those pairings myself. (Mind you, I love most ships, especially those involving Phil Coulson, because he's my fandom bicycle.) And there's a jigsaw puzzle because I love jigsaw puzzles, and have done quite a few lately. I don't have a reindeer-shaped Christmas one, sorry to say. The unicorn-shaped one I'm working on will have to suffice.
Anyway, please review! I have gifted you with slashy Christmas fic.