A/N: This was supposed to be a short story. It was to satisfy the plot bunny spawned by Walk the Moon's "Shut Up and Dance." How it became a 4,000-word Christmas-time story is still a mystery. But there's fluff and banter and a happy ending. I think 2015 is going to be the year I stretch out of the fluffy comfort zone. But not just yet, so enjoy this happy (not so) little fic. Also, I own nothing and I earn nothing from this - this is only for fun.
Avoiding the Office Party
The Christmas tree stood in the middle of the penthouse great room and was massive. And magnificent, of course. The entire room was adorned with Christmas décor of the most beautiful and tasteful kind. Wrapped gifts littered the floor and almost every corner. The food was prepared for a party of 100 when, in fact, there would only be eleven as evidenced by the number of named stockings hanging from the mantel. The wood-burning fireplace was roaring and Natasha vaguely wondered how in the hell Stark got all the firewood up to this floor of the Tower.
She stood as far away from the scene as she possibly could. A bitter laugh escaped her frown and she whispered, "Which of these things doesn't belong?"
What made her think she could participate in Christmas? Pepper berated, pestered, pressured, and, yes, begged her to join the festivities today. All of it subtle, all of it friendly – all of it was just so Pepper. If there were still a S.H.I.E.L.D., Nat would suggest they bring in the Stark Industries CEO for special interrogation duty because the woman will not give up or take "no" for an answer. Pepper was the only reason Natasha stood where she was.
The elevator door opened behind her and she turned to see who else was popping in more than an hour early to survey the situation. She was not surprised to see Clint. He looked even more uncomfortable, if that were even possible.
"So, ah, Merry Christmas, I guess," he said as he tried to muster a smile.
"Yeah, Merry Christmas," she replied as she turned back toward the tree, though not before noticing how his faded jeans slightly slouched at the top of his boots, how they hugged his hips, how the long-sleeved heather gray shirt hung just below the waist band and fit his frame with the right amount of stretch to be comfortable without being baggy, and how his hair spiked on the top of his head like he'd just rolled out of bed. Were it not for his neatly pressed clothes, she would easily assume that he did just roll out of bed. The look suited him. But, his eyes were dull.
He moved to stand beside her and take in the scene. Sure he saw the tree, the fire, the stockings, the food, and all the obvious details. But, what he focused on was in his peripheral vision. The way Natasha balanced perfectly on the mid-height stacked heals of her over-the-knee black boots, the way the black tights accentuated her killer thighs and disappeared under the short gray sweater dress that could've been custom-tailored based on the way it fit every curve of her body and ended in a turtleneck. It amazed him that an outfit that showed no skin could be so off-the-chart sexy. Or maybe it was the fact that she let her hair hang in its natural curls and she had just enough makeup around her eyes to give the illusion that they were sparkling. But his eyes missed nothing. There was no real sparkle there.
"What are we doing here? This..." she spread her arms to indicate the great room. "This is not us. This is not a place for spies," she asserted in a voice that was uncharacteristically high-pitched, almost desperate. And then her arms hung limply as she sighed and said barely above a whisper, "For assassins..."
Clint could feel the emotional turmoil rolling off of her. It mixed with his own conflicting emotions and made it a little harder to breathe.
"No, but we're part of a team now," he tried to reason. "And I really want that to work," he quietly admitted while staring at the bright star at the top of the tree. As Natasha shifted to look at him, he quickly added, "Besides, Pepper scares me."
As Natasha filed away his confession for further consideration, she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "Me, too," she said.
He looked at her and saw that her eyes actually reflected the slight humor of her laugh. That look gave voice to an idea. He didn't allow himself to think it through, he just blurted out, "Ya know, we've got some time to kill before we really have to be here. Let's compromise. We'll go do something for us and then come back later to be with the team. What'd'ya say?"
He stood there with brows raised practically to his hairline and his hand on his hips. She slowly furrowed her own brows, slightly cocked her head to the right and looked for all the world like she was going to ask if he had lost his mind. Instead she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Why not?"
He smiled and they stepped on the elevator together. "You do realize, don't you, that there will still be hell to pay," she muttered as she stole a glance at him and breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't notice the mistletoe they had been standing under.
"Oh, I'm perfectly aware. Instead of an awkward office party, it'll be just like having a real family. JARVIS, to the lobby, please," he said as he continued to face forward and close his eyes in relief that she didn't notice the mistletoe they had been standing under.
...
They walked seemingly aimlessly and in comfortable silence for a number of city blocks. New York City was alive with people doing last minute shopping or enjoying a Christmas Eve evening out and about. They blended in with the masses. The energy on the street was overwhelmingly positive. People made eye contact and smiled. There were countless wishes of "Happy Holidays" and "Merry Christmas."
"Why can't people be like this all year long?" Natasha said out loud as she pulled her coat tighter against the cold breeze.
"Good question. If they were, we would've been out of work a long time ago," Clint responded. "Are you getting cold?" he asked.
"I'm Russian, I don't get cold," she automatically replied. Clint rolled his eyes. "But, if we've reached our destination, I wouldn't mind," she added.
They stood on a busy sidewalk directly in between a small, trendy martini bar and a beautiful, old church. The church bell began to ring announcing the start of the first evening service.
"Well, then, let's go in," Clint said as he moved to his right toward the bar.
"Ok," Natasha said as she moved to her left toward the church.
They bumped shoulders as they ran into each other going in their separate directions.
"Where are you going?" each asked the other in unison as they looked at each other with wide eyes.
"I kinda thought you'd like to go to church on Christmas Eve," she said sheepishly.
"I figured you'd need a bottle of vodka in you to deal with the party tonight," he said quietly.
"Did we just have a 'Gift of the Magi' moment here?" Natasha asked suspiciously while motioning between the two of them with her gloved hands.
Clint threw his had back in laughter. "I think we did," he all but giggled to her. As he looked into her eyes, he got instantly serious. "You would go to church with me?" he asked.
She considered his question as they continued to stand on the sidewalk and people walked around them. "Like I said, I thought for Christmas Eve it would be appropriate. Isn't that what normal people do?"
"Normal? Who remembers normal anymore?" he deflected.
She put her hands on his forearms. "Clint, I know you've come to this church a few times since the Avengers Initiative. If it gives you some kind of comfort, you should be there tonight," she said with a delicate voice he could never remembering hearing from her.
Yes, he'd come here a few times since the Battle of Manhattan and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Hardly a religious man, he continued to tell himself, he did find some peace here. And if a few minutes of quiet reflection in a house of worship was the way for him to keep it together, then he shouldn't be embarrassed.
"It is a beautiful church. You'd appreciate the architecture, if you'd like to go in and check it out," he said as he looked into her eyes. "We can get you your drink after the service and you can tell me what's good on the menu since you're almost a regular there," he said through a relaxed smile and nodded his head toward the bar.
He was right. One night while Clint was still missing immediately following the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., Stark told Nat she looked like she needed a long walk and a stiff drink. To spite him, she challenged him to join her. They ended up here and, much to her shock, had a wonderful evening. She felt so much better that she considered this place a good spot to come to lift her spirits. She just shook her head at the fact that he knew she spent time here and that it was right next to the church where she knew he sometimes sought comfort. She chalked it up to a weird coincidence in a very long line of weird coincidences.
"I'd love to check it out," she said simply as she linked her arm around his and began to walk up the steps into the church. "And I already know what to order you next door," she whispered.
...
The church was gorgeous. It had an old-world charm that Natasha could appreciate. The service itself was shorter than they expected, but no less meaningful for it. And the carols sung by the choir and congregation were traditional favorites. She zoned out during the sermon, but overall she could say it was painless.
If she were honest with herself, she'd admit to enjoying the feeling of sitting next to Clint while he took in the entire service. She'd admit that she adored the way he held the hymnal for both of them as they actually sang each carol. And she'd admit that she felt a little better after giving in and offering up a silent prayer simply asking whoever might be listening to forgive and protect Clint because he deserved nothing less. But, she wasn't going there.
With the last notes of "Silent Night" still hanging in the air, Clint helped Natasha with her coat and they left by a side exit. "Thanks, Nat," he said simply as they walked the few steps toward the neon purple entrance of the martini bar.
She smiled and look at him, "You're welcome. Now, about that drink…"
He opened the door for her and was met with the smooth sound of jazz from a live band. It was busy, but not overly crowded. A few heads turned to check out the new arrivals, but most people were engaged in private conversations or enjoying a turn on the small dance floor.
She led him over to the far right side of the bar where there was an empty chair. "Hey, Nat," shouted one of the bartenders as she ran around the bar to give Nat a hug.
"Hi, Nikki," responded Nat as she quickly, but comfortably, embraced the young woman. "Glad to see you working tonight."
"Yeah, well, if you gotta work, might as well work one of the best nights for tips," she whispered. More conversationally she said, "Your chair is waiting for you. And… you must be Clint. It's so nice to finally meet you! I'll get your drinks right away." She was behind the bar before Clint could say anything.
Natasha hopped up on the chair and turned to see Clint's reaction. "Umm, what the hell just happened?" he asked her.
She laughed and said, "That is one of the sweetest people in the world. When Stark introduced me to this place, she wasn't star struck or intimidated or in any way affected by his… well, you know, by 'him.' She just gave us great service, kept the groupies away, and made us feel welcome. Not an easy thing, that. Since then, she makes sure I'm taken care of."
"No, not easy. But, how did she know me? And… you have a chair?" he asked still confused.
"Yes, I have a chair. Stark may have tipped her very heavily to make sure I've got a seat any time I come in," she said while rolling her eyes.
"Huh," he clucked. When she didn't continue, Clint elbowed her and asked, "But, how did she know me?"
Natasha sighed. "Well, Stark being Stark, he introduced me as a member of his legal team who was pining away for my 'partner' on a business trip. He thought he was being cute and vague. Nikki took 'partner' to mean, ya know, a domestic partner, and Stark still being Stark did nothing to dissuade that assumption. Every time I see her she asks about my 'partner' and I'm just too far in to try to explain my way out… and would you please lose that shit-eating grin, Barton."
Just as Clint was about to tease her some more, their drinks were delivered. A dark red liquid played tricks with the dim light as the sugar-rimmed martini glass was set in front of Natasha. For Clint, a pint glass filled with a rich, dark liquid topped with a frothy head just on the verge of spilling over. "Your usual, Nat, and for you, Clint, the perfect pint of Guinness."
Clint stared at the glass before him and then at the server with his eyes piercing into hers. "The perfect pint, you say?" he asked, ominously, while Natasha rolled her eyes.
"Double poured at 45 degrees, just the way you like it," she said confidently and walked away.
Clint slowly turned to face Nat with a smile that could've lit up the entire establishment and said, "Does she know my shoe size, too?"
Natasha just smiled, picked up her drink, and raised it toward him in a toast. He carefully picked up his glass and lightly touched it to hers. "What are we drinking to?" he asked.
After a careful few seconds of contemplation, she smiled, "Merry Christmas."
He returned her smile, "Merry Christmas."
After taking the first taste of his beer, Clint turned away from Nat to find the bartender watching him and waiting for his verdict. An enthusiastic "thumbs up" was sent her way and she nodded her head knowingly. Both Clint and Natasha laughed and continued to sip their drinks while the music played on.
...
As they finished their second round, Clint frowned and whispered, "We should probably get back to the Tower before JARVIS activates the GPS locators on our phones."
Natasha sighed. "I know. I know." She motioned for Nikki to bring the check.
The young woman ran over and said with a smile, "There is more than enough on your account to cover this. Mr. Stark set you up very comfortably last time."
"Well, I'm not comfortable with Mr. Stark settling my debts, so I'll take care of this," Natasha growled.
"Nat, I could see if this was coming across as some power play on his part, or a showy gesture or a jack-ass move. But, I'm a great judge of character. Comes with the job. And I can tell that Mr. Stark likes you," she said forcefully. "He likes both of you," making a point of meeting Clint's eyes. "Let him pick up the tab tonight."
Natasha and Clint both relaxed. Call it a Christmas miracle, but they allowed the young bar tender to have her way. "At least let me leave you a tip," crooned Clint as he slid a twenty-dollar bill over the bar.
"Well, who am I to turn down a tip?" she smiled sweetly at both of them and wished them a Merry Christmas as she danced back to the other patrons.
Still smiling, Clint helped Nat with her coat and started moving toward the door. Without warning, he felt her hand grasp his arm and pull him backwards. He turned to look at her and got lost in her smile. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, her face glowed even in the dark bar lighting, and her smile was simply breathtaking.
Stripped of speech and allowing himself to be guided by her, he was surprised to find that she lead him to the middle of the dance floor. The band was just starting a new tune. It must've been a good one because the small area was crowding quickly with other dancers. Suddenly concerned with his two left feet, he tried to recall his S.H.I.E.L.D. training for high society undercover missions. There was a reason he preferred to sit alone and far away from this type of situation, but Coulson made sure he had the basics.
Natasha positioned herself with her right hand in his left and her left hand on his shoulder, dangerously close to his bare neck. As if to plead his case, he turned toward the door. "Hey, Hawkeye," she purred. "Don't you dare look back there. Keep your eyes on me."
He snapped his head back to meet her gaze. The smile had faded, though only slightly, and she wore a look he could not decipher. She made a good show of it, but could she be a little surprised at where they'd just ended up?
As they began to sway to the music, she clearly took the lead, which was fine with him. After a few seconds, he relaxed into the impossible moment and found his rhythm. As usual, she made it seem effortless and they moved together perfectly.
"Hey Nat, I'm doing ok out here, huh? I think you're holding back a little bit. C'mon, let's show 'em what Strike Team Delta can do," he whispered while flashing her the most amazing smile.
She tossed back her head with a laugh that sounded so foreign and yet so beautiful to Clint. She met and held his eyes as her hand snaked its way into the hair at his neckline. "Barton, shut up and dance with me." With that they glided easily over the dance floor for the remainder of that song as well as the next one.
...
As they made their way off of the dance floor and toward the door, both phones began to go off indicating text messages. "Hmmm, wonder who that could be," said Natasha as she glanced back at Clint.
"I'll give you three guesses," he said as he held the door open for her.
She stepped through and onto the sidewalk. The crowds had thinned out considerably and they were able to walk side by side while reading their messages. 'We are waiting for you guys to get here so we can open presents together. Please hurry. Thor is getting to be a pain in the Asgard. -Pepper'
"And by Thor, I'm sure she means Tony," chuckled Clint.
"Probably. But, I can see Thor being like a kid at…" she said, then hesitated while she considered how to complete her thought. "Well, at Christmas," she settled on.
Clint laughed and said, "I'll respond."
"Ah, with what, may I ask," said Natasha suspiciously.
They continued walking as Clint spoke what he was texting. "On our way. Sorry to keep you waiting. Agent Romanoff doesn't understand the concept of a quickie, so…"
"I will kill you before your left boot hits the ground," she interrupted with a casual tone.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. He erased the text and began again. "On our way. Sorry to keep you waiting. Agent Romanoff's penchant for vodka sidetracked…"
"Still dead," she sang.
He chuckled as he erased the text and started again. "On our way. Sorry to keep you waiting. Agent Romanoff pulled me onto the dance floor and…" he paused briefly while waiting for the next death threat. When none came, he continued, "…we enjoyed dancing together…" He paused again, but she never broke stride and never even looked at him. "… in each other's arms… as I let her lead…" This earned him a sideways glance, but no objection. "And I think we liked it… a lot…" they began to slow their pace in unison.
Although he continued to look at his phone, he had stopped typing but continued to speak. "In fact, I think we liked this entire evening… a lot… and maybe it's the Christmas spirit taking over, but I think it's a good time to mention, before we get to the party, that… I like everything about Agent Romanoff... a lot," he very quietly added as they stopped walking and looked at each other.
Warning bells were going off so loudly in her head that she couldn't believe the entire city block couldn't hear it. Dare she allow herself to acknowledge what Clint was admitting? Finally. After years of pushing her own feelings aside out of a sense of duty and out of fear, could she take the biggest leap of faith she'd ever attempted? She knew in her mind, heart, and soul that Clint would always have her back, would always do whatever had to be done to save her. She felt the same way about him. She always viewed that in the narrow context of serving the greater good, of working off her debt. Somehow, in this moment, she thinks it goes far deeper than that. Her last thought to herself before jumping in with both feet was: everybody hold on because the universe is about to shift.
She reached for his hand and said earnestly, "Believe me, I'm so sorry to finally say this out loud, but…" After pausing for only a moment, she smiled and sighed, "I don't think I'm an agent of anything anymore."
He continued to look at her while his mind processed what she'd said. He was so ready to see another wall go up, to hear another excuse, to have her actually walk away from him. After a blink to clear the blank stare he managed, "That's your only objection?"
She nodded. "Mmmmm hmmmmm."
He placed his phone in his pocket and brushed his finger down her cheek. "Tasha…" he whispered. "Are you sure?"
She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yes. And no."
He tentatively pulled her to him with his hands around her waist. "Wanna clarify that a little bit?"
As she spoke she stood on her toes to bring her lips closer to his. "No, I'm not sure somebody like me knows the first thing about relationships and emotions. Yes, I'm sure that what I'm feeling… and have felt for a very long time for you... has nothing to do with debts and ledgers and fieldwork and secret organizations. It just is what it is. Can you handle that?"
"Yes," he said quietly but confidently as he closed the distance between them and allowed the emotion to take over.
Only when their phones began to ring again did they pull apart. Coats were crooked, hair was messy, faces were flushed, and there was a guilty look shared between them. Each wondered if the other would regret the kiss. They took out their phones and read the message. It was from Tony: 'For a couple of master assassins, you should more carefully select a make-out location. JARVIS caught you on a security camera. Look up…"
As they each craned their necks up toward the sky, they could barely hear it, but there was laughter, whistling, catcalls, and generally happy shouts coming from the balcony of the Tower. What they could see clearly, however, was a beam of light shining from the top of the Tower that began to emit a small fireworks display.
Clint and Nat looked at each other and allowed themselves to laugh. They laughed at the over-the-top efforts of Tony. They laughed that their team, maybe even now considered their friends, found happiness in their happiness. They laughed that they allowed themselves to be happy.
Their phones rang again. 'We'll start the office party without you. Take your time. – Pepper'
They dropped the phones back into their coat pockets and continued right where they left off.