Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Avengers or their stories and/or settings. The only things I own are original characters that may or may not appear and my own plotlines. Any resemblance to any person, either living or fictional, is entirely coincidental and not the intention of the author.

Author's Note: So, I was going to wait a few more days to post this first chapter. But my husband has been after me since December began to get started on this and get it posted. I already have several chapters of the story written and a firm idea of where it's going. However, I had planned on this story being twelve or thirteen chapters. Instead, it's taken over, and I have no idea how many chapters it'll be. Yay for all of us because that's more fun! As a result, I will be posting every other day, more frequently if necessary.

A special thanks to theicemenace and pisces317 for beta-ing this and listening to my brainstorming. And to my husband,Lithane, for the push to publish it sooner.

One final note: This story is a sequel to both "New York State of Mind" and "Long Time Comin'." I have no idea what to call the series, so if someone has any ideas, please let me know. I don't believe it is strictly necessary to read the other two stories, but there will be references to things that happened in the course of the stories, particularly "Long Time Comin'." I was planning to write a short story between "Long Time Comin'" and "Home For Christmas," but the characters decided to tell that particular story through the course of this one. The chapter titles are a bit out of order lyric-wise for the song, but I chose the lyrics that best fit rather than trying to fit the story to the song.

As always, hope you enjoy! ~lg

oOo

I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love
Even more than I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you

I'll be home for Christmas
You can plan on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And present under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams.

~Kim Gannon, Walter Kent, Buck Ram~

oOo

Clint would never forget the scene as long as he lived. He had just pulled into New York City after a forty-two hour drive and arrived exhausted. Somewhere in Chicago, he'd had his fill of Christmas music on random radio stations and stopped to grab some CDs for his truck. Humming along with "New York State of Mind," arguably his favorite song, he parked in Stark Tower's underground garage and sighed. He'd done it. It was the first day of December, and he'd made it home for Christmas.

Summoning energy he wasn't sure he possessed, he slipped out of his truck and reached for his duffel bag. His bow and Coulson's guitar followed, resulting in a bedraggled appearance that startled the receptionist when she saw him. She did a double-take and straightened. "Can I help you, sir?"

Clint offered a friendly smile and shook his head. "No. Thanks." He felt her eyes follow him to the private elevator that would take him to the Commons. Those eyes widened even further when he punched in his personal code on the keypad Stark had provided. It prevented anyone but the Avengers and Pepper Potts from using the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed on the startled receptionist, Clint looked at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

"Welcome home, Agent Barton." The AI's British voice sounded almost excited.

"It's just 'Clint.'"

"Of course, Sir."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Have you told Stark I'm here yet?"

"No, Sir." JARVIS hesitated. "Mr. Stark is. . .indisposed. . .at the moment."

"TMI," Clint muttered. To the AI, he said, "Well, don't tell anyone I'm here. I'd like to surprise them."

"Very good, Sir."

Clint leaned against the back wall and rode the rest of the way in silence. The polished brass reflected his appearance back to him, and he sighed. He really did look like a homeless bum. No wonder the receptionist had been so surprised.

Figuring the others would be okay with his scruffy self, Clint took those few moments to study his eyes. He hadn't shaved since before his visit to Coulson's girlfriend, and the scruff had reached the point of annoying him. His gray-blue eyes had bags under them that spoke of sleepless nights, but he felt so at peace that he could ignore that. A few nights in his own bed, reacquainting himself with his surroundings, and he'd be right as rain. Then, he shrugged. Well, almost right as rain.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened on the unforgettable scene. Clint had started to pick up his gear, but he blinked and froze with only his duffel bag over his shoulder. His bow and guitar had been propped against his legs, and he instantly wished for a camera.

Natasha and Steve stood next to the door leading onto the balcony, exchanging amused glances and smothering most of their laughter. Thor's right arm was buried up to his shoulder in a Christmas tree that brushed the vaulted ceiling. He leaned slightly to keep from crushing the lower branches, a bored expression on his face. An inordinate amount of cursing, muttering, and arguing came from under the tree, where Clint saw two sets of legs. One was clad in slacks and loafers while the other belonged to Iron Man. The Christmas tree wobbled back and forth as Bruce and Stark continued to fight.

Footsteps to his right pulled Clint's gaze from the fiasco. Pepper Potts carried a tray of cookies from the kitchen and also froze, her eyes glued to him. "Clint! You're back!" Her voice, warm and welcoming, swept through the area and caused the hilarious scene to escalate.

Steve, Natasha, and Thor turned. Stark sat up, his helmet-less head poking through the branches as Bruce cursed. The Christmas tree overbalanced due to Thor's inattention and began falling right onto where Bruce still lay underneath it. Steve rushed forward to help Thor catch it, and Stark dove back under the tree. A moment later, he crowed triumphantly. "Got it!" The tree jerked as it settled into the planter.

As everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Clint smirked. "No wonder JARVIS said you were indisposed." He picked up his gear and walked toward the tree, not minding the weight of his belongings as it pulled on his shoulders. "How'd you get that thing up here?"

Stark crawled out from under the tree and stood to his feet, holding out his hands as if Clint had just asked a silly question. Which, to Stark's mind, he had. "You forget who I am!"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "He flew it up the side of the building and brought it through the balcony doors." She set down the tray of cookies to move to Clint's side. "Welcome home."

"It's Christmas," Stark replied as if she hadn't already changed the subject. "We can't have Christmas without a tree."

Clint had to agree. He accepted Pepper's hug, returned Natasha's hug, shook hands with Steve and Bruce, and nodded to Thor. Stark picked pine needles from his suit, fussing as he did so. "These things are gonna take days to clear out!"

Steve shook his head. "That's what you get for choosing a live tree!"

"Yeah, well, you're doing the lights," Stark said quietly, carelessly dropping the pine needles on the floor.

Steve smirked at Natasha before continuing the argument. "And you could have bought one of those fancy ones that already had the lights on it."

"Really?" Stark scoffed as he turned to Clint. "Capsicle, here, wanted a pre-lit tree." He stuck out his armored hand. "Welcome back."

Clint shook the hand without blinking. "Thanks. You know, the Cap has a point. No stringing lights."

Stark shrugged. "But stringing lights is half the fun."

"Says you," Steve muttered. But he trudged over to the boxes of brand new lights that had been stacked by the couch and began sorting through them one at a time. He separated them by color and soon had equal amounts of red, white, and blue lights.

Clint blinked at that and caught Stark's eye. The billionaire smirked at his knowing look and clomped away to get out of his suit.

Pepper shook her head with a longsuffering sigh as Natasha moved to help Steve begin applying lights to the tree. They spoke softly to one another, and Clint simply stood back and watched. A few moments later, he realized that Bruce was studying him. He knew what the good doctor saw and decided to preempt the man. Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, he announced, "I'm gonna just get cleaned up a bit."

Natasha barely glanced up, her expression only vaguely concerned, as he gathered his gear and trudged to the stairs. Since their rooms, if the suites could be called "rooms," were only one floor below the Commons area, Stark had installed a grand staircase that led down one level. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the living area, the staircase curving around the slightly rounded exterior of the building. Once on the correct floor, Clint walked down the hall and shook his head. The hallways were wide, carpeted, and better-decorated than some five-star hotels Clint had stayed in.

He found his rooms easily enough and pushed through the door. Nothing had been disturbed that he could see, and it instantly set his mind at ease. The weather had changed as Clint drove into New York, covering everything in a gray pall that promised snow. As the darkness deepened, the lights of New York sparkled through the windows and glittered on the glass. The king-sized bed sat to the left of the windows, out of sight from the outside but still allowing Clint to see the view. A large armoire hid a television, and a walk-in closet housed only a few changes of clothes. The room was bigger than anything Clint had ever had in the past, and the fact that it also had a sitting area that resembled a living room and its very own kitchen. . . .This place was a very luxurious studio apartment.

Dropping his belongings in the middle of the floor, Clint opened the duffel bag and pulled out his shave kit. He snagged some clean laundry along the way and, within seconds, stood under a hot spray of water for the first time in two days. He sighed deeply, enjoying the sensation while the tension that had built in his shoulders drained away. Coming home, while something he wanted to do, had worried him. Things were different, though he couldn't be certain just how. He had sensed it as Stark complained about pine needles in his suit's joints and Natasha helped Steve with the Christmas lights. Everyone felt so settled, and he suddenly realized he'd missed a large portion of their bonding.

Shutting off the water after he'd shaved and felt slightly human again, Clint dried and dressed, his stomach rumbling in spite of his body's need for sleep. He'd pushed to get home by today, and he knew he'd collapse sooner rather than later. Instead of really considering it, he quickly started a load of laundry, courtesy of the new stackable washer and dryer tucked in a corner of his suite, and trudged back upstairs.

Stark had returned and was side-seat driving while Steve and Natasha finished stringing lights on the tree. It looked fantastic, almost as good as any pre-lit tree for the even spacing of the lights. Natasha ignored Stark but listened when Steve spoke, her expression open and calm as she looked at the super soldier. Clint narrowed his eyes as he watched, content to remain in the background and absorb the impressions from this eclectic group. Something had changed between Steve and Natasha, and Clint grinned. So, the Black Widow found herself truly attracted to someone after all.

Pepper and Bruce were in the kitchen, chatting and laughing as they put the finishing touches on a pan of lasagna. The smell made Clint's stomach rumble again, and he hoped no one heard it before they got done eating. He'd survived on take-out food and drive-thrus for most of the four months he'd been away. A home-cooked meal appealed on a very deep, almost instinctual, level.

Stark and Thor stood off to one side. Stark held a red bauble in his hand, happily explaining how to decorate a Christmas tree to the Asgardian. Clint watched, intrigued, as Thor gently took the glass ball and frowned. But he played along with Stark and hung it on a branch. Soon, others followed, all of them red or silver. Clint had begun to see a theme to Stark's machinations and wondered what the billionaire had up his sleeve.

Stark turned at that moment and caught sight of Clint. "Hey, Legolas, got something for you to do, too." He waited while Clint crossed the room before pointing. "That box, there, is yours."

Clint eyed the box and raised an eyebrow. He didn't need to see inside to know what it was. "A Santa's workshop?"

Stark shoved his shoulder. "Just set it up. You'll like it!" He turned to frown at the tree and then nodded. "Looks great, Point Break. But you need more. Lots more."

As Tony went back to micromanaging the decorations on the tree, Clint opened the box and proceeded to dump the packing peanuts on the floor. He did it to get a rise out of Stark, and it worked beautifully. For the next several minutes, Clint grinned like a two-year-old as Stark hurried to clean up the mess before Pepper saw it. He needn't have bothered because Pepper had chuckled when Clint made the mess in the first place.

Dragging the heavy objects out of the box, Clint's attitude switched from humoring the billionaire to genuine appreciation. Someone—and Clint sincerely wanted to meet the artist—had hand-carved a Santa Claus about two feet tall with six elves. Santa's cheeks were rosy, his suit a burgundy color, and his smile contagious. The elves, which would set up all around him, wore various costumes of red, green, white, and gold. Santa had a bag of presents at his feet, spilling over onto the ground, while the elves each carried toys and boxes. Clint examined each one individually, marveling at the craftsmanship, before putting it to the side and unpacking the next. They were all hand-painted and belonged in a museum somewhere.

Then, he froze. The final elf to come out of the box was the rebel of the group. Each one had possessed some defining feature, whether red hair, greenish skin, a glowing jewel, an American flag, or a flowing cape. But the final one wore wrap-around sunglasses and carried a bow and arrow. At that moment, Clint put the pieces together. These elves represented the Avengers. He turned back to the Santa figure and frowned. "Stark, got some black string and leather?"

That question halted all conversation in the room. Clint looked up and frowned, seeing the mix of speculative grins and outright confusion. He shrugged. "What? You wanted me to set up the Santa and elves."

Stark blinked. "With leather?"

"Yeah." Clint held the billionaire's disbelieving stare. When no one moved, he stood. "Be right back." He trotted down the stairs back to his suite and opened his duffel bag. Taking out a pair of black jeans that had seen better days, he carefully cut a small piece from the torn knee and then returned to the Commons. By then, Pepper had found a length of leather twine which Clint declared perfect. Then, kneeling in front of the table where Stark wanted the entire set, he went to work.

By the time he'd finished, the rest of the group had abandoned their tasks to watch. The lasagna was in the oven, Thor had filled the tree, and Natasha and Steve waited patiently by the window. Clint arranged his Santa and elves on the table, adding sequin-studded cotton for snow and sat back. Santa now sported a neat black eye patch over his left eye. "There," Clint declared. "Now the set's accurate."

Clint's addition to the Santa and elves sparked a lively conversation and plenty of laughter. He hadn't been around for four months, but he knew Stark would appreciate his sense of humor—even if he did fuss. Rather than causing a ruckus, though, Stark frowned at the Santa and declared he'd get a new one made, one with the right color skin and no beard.

The oven finally dinged, and the group began to set the table. But Stark frowned. "Wait." He marched back across the room, where the boxes of decorations had been discarded and picked through until he found the right one. Holding the innocuous box out to Natasha, he shrugged. "Do the honors?"

Clint saw Natasha tense immediately, knowing what the Black Widow would say. But Steve, who was next to her, reached out and touched her elbow. The touch lingered, and Clint narrowed his eyes as he watched. He wasn't jealous at all, just a bit surprised that Steve, of all people, would openly show affection like that. And Natasha accepted it! Clint blinked and simply stood there as Natasha opened the box. Her face dissolved into a smile at what the box held, and she shook her head. Leaving the group behind, she dragged a chair over to the Christmas tree and pulled the tree topper from the box. Then, with as much care as she ever showed, she climbed onto the chair and affixed the topper to the tree. It sparkled in the dim light, the gemstones—Clint suspected they were actual Swarovski crystals, based on the money Stark had spent on this thing—glittering brightly. The topper resembled the onion domes on Moscow's St. Basil's Cathedral, a clear nod to Natasha's Russian heritage.

Stark clapped his hands. "Now we can eat!"

Clint found himself in a chair between Steve and Bruce, eating a plate of lasagna and feeling as if he'd never left. His emotions ran the gamut from warm and fuzzy to cautious and apprehensive. He had known family once, and to have that feeling now, with this strange group of people, surprised him. Who was he that they so readily accepted him? His time away hadn't done him any favors by endearing him to them, but he found himself relaxing in a way he hadn't done since before his reunion with Barney. Somehow, he trusted them. He decided to figure out the how later and just enjoy the revelation now. After all, he had made it home in time for Christmas. And he figured he might as well enjoy every bit of it while he could.

oOo

After dinner, Natasha insisted on cleaning the kitchen rather than leaving it to Pepper and Bruce. The rest of the Avengers, Clint included, wandered back into the living room and left her to her thoughts. She was grateful for the space. Decorating the Commons for Christmas had been fun, but she felt a bit crowded. So, she rinsed plates, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned up splattered spaghetti sauce while letting herself study the scene before her.

Stark had turned off all the lights in the Commons save those in the kitchen and the Christmas tree. There was enough ambient light that the men could see one another and quietly talk. Pepper had found a book, and Natasha was tempted to join the other woman. But Clint was back. Just like he'd promised, he'd come home for Christmas. That made her Christmas season even better.

"Hey." Steve's soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and Natasha turned sharply. He held up both hands. "Whoa. Easy. Didn't mean to startle you."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Cap. I know I'm with friends."

He moved to stand beside her. "So, it's back to 'Cap?'"

She supposed he had a good point. A little over a month ago, Clint's brother asked for help. Natasha had been part of taking down an internationally-wanted fugitive, and it had resulted in a new-found attraction for Steve Rogers. The man behind Captain America had seen through her defensiveness and self-sufficiency and realized that a woman lived there. He didn't try anything suspicious, probably for fear she'd do something he didn't like, but it made Natasha feel special. Over the intervening weeks, they'd grown closer. She started calling him by his first name, and he often touched her arm or elbow just to be close. It didn't go beyond that, but Stark and the others saw what happened and wisely didn't comment. At least, they didn't comment in Natasha's hearing, which was an improvement for Stark.

Now, though, she sensed that awkwardness starting to creep in. "It's. . . ." She shook her head, her eyes on Clint as he laughed with Bruce as Stark talked himself into a corner. "He's back, and I'm glad. I just don't want. . . .I mean, I. . . ." She stuttered to a halt, surprised at not being able to articulate how she felt.

Steve nodded. "He'll adjust."

She glanced up to see the captain watching Clint's interactions with the rest of the team. "I know. But Clint's different. He's never had a family."

"He does, now." Steve nudged her arm. "You joining us or what?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, hearing Clint in those words and knowing her partner probably sent Steve over to bug her. "Yes. Just let me grab a drink."

The next hour passed in quiet conversation as the group enjoyed the Christmas tree and closeness they'd all developed. Natasha managed to let Clint settle into the group on his own rather than watching him closely like she wanted. At one point, Steve had gone to the windows to look outside, and Natasha naturally joined him. It was their habit, developed after their mission to recover Trish Starr, and none of the others questioned them as they fell into quiet contemplation and a soft discussion on what Steve remembered of Christmas.

After twenty minutes of reminiscing, though, Steve glanced over his shoulder and froze. Natasha turned, confused, until she saw Clint. Her partner, the infamous Hawkeye who never trusted anyone but her or Coulson, had scooted down into the couch until the back cushion supported his neck. His legs spread out in front of him comfortably and, much to everyone's shock, he had drifted to sleep in the middle of the room, with his back to the elevator, and unmindful of the chatter around him. Even Stark had the good sense not to poke the sleeping dragon, and Natasha met the billionaire's eyes.

Clint's actions weren't lost on any of them, least of all Natasha. It had taken him years to trust her enough to sleep in her presence. Yet, after only a couple of hours, he had decided that this group of people would watch his back long enough for his body to rest. It was a powerful realization of just how much he had healed after Loki's invasion, and no one minded the occasional snore as they all settled in to keep watch over their wayward team member as he slept.

~TBC