[Disclaimer: Sorry I suck at updating any of my fics. Also, I guess I don't own any of these people. I WANT TO SO BADLY THOUGH!

But anyways…. Y'all should look the song 'You're Such a Good Guy Jeremy Renner' on Itunes because I about died laughing]

"But Sir," Clint whined, "we can't have Christmas without a Christmas tree!"

"No,"

"But we have to have to have to get a tree! Think of the morale of the men-"

"No," The god repeated coldly, his eyes flashing anger.

"So…"

"For the last time you insufferable mortal – I. Said. No." Loki jerked his hand upwards nearly bringing it down on Clints face. He paused, finding it a waste of physical exertion. Loki snorted, turning sharply on his heel and walking away. "Gods! What is it about 'no' that your pea-sized brain can't comprehend? Hm?"

"Loki, I just wanted-…" The look the deity gave him was chilling, and he didn't really want to see the consequences of arguing with him. Every since he'd been taken under Loki's spell, he'd wanted him to get the full experience of humanity. After all, he would be ruling it. "I just wanted you to know what Christmas was."

"Shut up!" Loki hissed. "Shut up you unbearable, dim-witted, thick, bastard! You haven't stopped talking about your ridiculous holiday since I walked in the door."

"Sorry," Clint muttered, flinching away from the other.

"Go to your nest, leave me in peace."

"Yes, sir." Clint silently left, scaling into the rafters and retreating to where he always did. It was a corner in the far back, the tall ceilings making the people below look small. Loki trusted him enough to lessen the amount of mind control was on him, but after the arguments over the holiday started, Clint began to worry he would just go under fully again. Loki hated being disagreed with probably more than he did human traditions. So, the disagreement over the holiday was not adding up well for either of them.

Clint glared angrily at the Charlie-Brown-like Christmas tree, "I knew he wouldn't like it." He whispered. He threw his fist into the wall. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Loki was right, he was an idiot. How could a Norse god ever want to celebrate a holiday that celebrated another god?

He plopped down on the grating, pulling a broken candy cane from his pocket. He took the biggest piece and nearly swallowed it whole. "Good job birdbrain," He said past another piece of candy in his mouth. What on earth went on in his head to make him think that Loki would want a Christmas tree?

He watched Loki as he neatly printed words onto a crisp white sheet of paper. His hand writing consisted of curvy letters, like on a 1916 postcard. He didn't even have to learn the languages he wrote in; he just used magic to make it come out like that. There was the scratching of the pen against paper to fill in the complete silence that had over taken the room. Suddenly, Loki threw his pen down, pushing himself back against the chair.

"Odin help me," Loki muttered.

His green eyes scanned the room as he crudely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stopped when he spotted a candy cane lying where he and Clint had been arguing. The hawk had a sweet tooth and had been so careless as to leave his sugar confections lying on the ground? The god pushed back his chair, standing. His heels clicked against the stone floor as he moved to stand above the piece of candy. He bent down, taking the cane between his long, bony fingers. Twirling it back and forth, he contemplated. Peeling back the wrapper, he led the sweet past his lips.

"Agent Barton," He sing-songed, walking in the direction of the agent.

"Yes sir?" Clint responded, climbing down from his hiding spot.

"Here," The god threw the candy across the room and into the spy's chest. "Next time I see your sweets lying around…" He jutted a finger in Clint's direction.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I understand that you don't want to celebrate Christmas," He was proud of how steady his voice came out. "Sir."

"Barton, I-" Loki started, but quickly was conflicted. He was a mortal and wanted his traditions as a comfort, but Loki wanted nothing to do with them. "You may… get a tree. Keep it up in your nest. If I see it out here I swear to Odin I will cut out your tongue."

"Thank you, sir." Clint didn't smile, just turned on his heel and headed for the door. A warmth spread across his cheeks and he knew he was blushing. Loki let him. He actually let him!

"And Barton," Loki called and the spy turned around to face the God. "If you ever think you can argue with me, if you ever think you can make me change my mind, or that you can force your petty customs on me I will ensure you regret it."

"Yes, sir." Clint understood what Loki said clearly, but he couldn't help but feel happy. Christmas trees were a comfort in the cold of winter. They were lit in the windows when he was on top of rooftops in the snow. They kept presents under them that weren't full of death and sorrow. They were an escape from the cold world he lived in.

Barton began to leave, his hand on the door handle. "This isn't a gift," Loki shouted.

"I know, sir." And he left, gliding down the halls with a smirk gracing his lips. He muttered, "Merry Christmas, Loki."