2014

The silence of the darkened halls of Avengers Tower was a relief after the relentless music and laughter of Tony's Christmas party. Stark had made it his personal mission to one-up himself every time he gave a party, an obsession that had manifested this year in drinks served by his Iron Legion, holographic mistletoe that appeared at random around the room, and insidious hints of a karaoke contest. Whenever the subject of karaoke was raised, no matter the circumstances, Natasha made it a rule to bail.

She wasn't the only Avenger who had slipped away from the dizzying experience of Stark's distressingly annual party. The sound of a television bled through the half-cracked door of the lounge as she approached.

"I don't want you to love me," said a woman's voice, tense and impatient.

"I don't!" protested a man in response. She recognized Jimmy Stewart's voice and a smile broke over her face as she finally placed the movie — The Shop Around the Corner. A quick glance through the door revealed Bruce slumped low against the couch, hair tousled against the cushion behind him and his feet resting against the coffee table in front. When she'd first known him, he wouldn't have been so relaxed anywhere, let alone in a skyscraper brimming with partygoers. She indulged another smile before smoothing it safely away, and made sure to let the door creak to announce her presence. Bruce glanced in her direction.

"Here you are," she said, smirking at him in the silver light of the television. The lamps and overhead fluorescents were all dark. Bruce turned the movie down and pushed himself into a slightly more upright position. She almost regretted disturbing him from one of his rare unguarded moments, but his smile was warm.

"I can only take so much when it comes to parties," he said by way of explanation, running the fingers of his right hand absently over his loosened tie. His suit jacket was slung over the armrest beside him, like a straight jacket abandoned at the earliest opportunity.

"You don't have to dress up, you know," she commented lightly, smirking as he rolled his sleeves a little further up his forearms.

"Says the woman wearing that dress," he countered, and finally pulled his tie off altogether, tossing it over his jacket.

She glanced down at her fitted red gown and realized that he really did have a point. Not that she was going to say as much. She had her sights set on the seat beside Bruce as she came around the sofa, but the seat was taken by a plate of what looked like miniature crab cakes.

"I see you made off with some hors d'oeuvres," she said, taking the open seat at the end of the couch. Bruce looked slightly abashed, but it was a satisfied sort of guilt.

"Try these," he said, pointing at the half-empty plate, "and then tell me you wouldn't have stolen them, too."

She reached for the nearest crab cake, a coin-sized work of art covered with breadcrumbs and topped with diced tomatoes, and hummed in approval as she popped it into her mouth.

"Point taken," she allowed, reaching for another. She paused long enough to raise an eyebrow in Bruce's direction. "Can I have another one or would that send you into an incident?"

Bruce made a show of considering. "I think I can handle it," he said at last. He couldn't hold back his smile.

Natasha could, but she relaxed into a smirk. "Why do you think I volunteered for lullaby duty?" she said, pointedly selecting the largest piece on the plate. "For moments just like this." She chewed deliberately and Bruce laughed. It was a familiar sound these days.

His eyes wandered back to the screen, where Jimmy Stewart had thrown away his red carnation that matched the flower tucked into Margaret Sullavan's book. He glanced back at her and the confusion clouding his eyes was faint, but easy to spot.

"I thought you didn't like this movie," he said, but she heard the question underneath.

Why are you staying?

Natasha didn't usually make a habit of answering questions that were only posed in subtext, so she shrugged. "I never said that."

"You asked me how I could like it," Bruce hedged, his expression caught between a smile and a grimace. Natasha studied him carefully; he never seemed able to decide whether he was having fun. But she was getting good at pushing him into certainty.

"Do you remember everything I said years ago?" she deflected, and was gratified when he settled on a tight grin.

"Only the things that offended me." His tone was teasing.

"So you do remember everything I said years ago," she replied with a twist of her lips. "I'm touched."

Bruce's smile faded when he glanced back toward the low murmur of the TV, and Natasha suppressed a sigh. No matter how hard she tried, his moods were hard to predict and impossible to fully manage. Not that she was making much of an attempt at managing them these days. She just wanted him to lighten up, for the team's sake.

And for his own.

"You're welcome to watch if you want," Bruce offered in a subdued but not unpleasant voice. "But wouldn't you rather get back to the party?"

He'd finally asked outright. She'd been attempting a policy of honesty with her friends ever since SHIELD had collapsed and painfully reminded her of the cost of subterfuge. She answered him truthfully and hoped he would pick up on the fact.

"You're not the only one who has a low threshold for parties."

His nod was almost solemn as he absorbed that. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as the film's more dramatic plotlines came to a head onscreen. Natasha slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet between the cushions, curling up until her head lolled against the back of the couch. Her dress would be wrinkled, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I've always wondered whether people actually do this sort of thing," Bruce said suddenly, just as Kralik arrived at Klara's home, unsure about whether to give the romance a try.

"Fall in love?" Natasha deadpanned, rolling her head in his direction. "It happens, or so I'm told."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow, but when he spoke, there was no trace of sarcasm. "I meant with the flowers. Arranging a meeting with only a red carnation to identify you." He turned to face her. "You were a spy. Ever use less than orthodox means of meeting contacts?"

"Like flowers?" she asked, a laugh chasing the words. "Not in this century."

Bruce's smile was self-deprecating. "Sorry, ridiculous question. I wonder why they picked carnations?" he mused, apparently content to follow one ridiculous question with another.

The shadows of the room covered Natasha's soft smile.


"So what do you think? Code Green?" Natasha asked as she risked a second clandestine peek through the doorway — the flimsy barrier protecting them from the party within. The plate of hors d'oeuvres had been empty for a long time before they'd finally been driven to attempt a supply run.

"I thought this was a covert mission," Bruce protested, but with a hint of a grin.

"In and out," Natasha agreed, pressing herself against the wall as she took a deep breath in preparation. Dodging Stark and his guests felt a lot like the last extraction mission she'd participated in, months ago now. Before the fall of SHIELD.

The sudden memories stung fiercely and Natasha forced them back by focusing on Bruce's lingering smile. Bruce was close behind her as she slipped through the door at last, weaving through the thick press of expensively-dressed guests. They had made it halfway to the nearest buffet spread when Tony's voice swelled above the music and the collective murmur of the partygoers.

"Bruce! There you are!" He was leaning over the railing of an upper level as he waved.

Bruce's face broadcasted a twist of existential despair and resigned humor in the way that only he could ever manage. "Go on without me," he said with an air of noble self-sacrifice.

"And leave you to the wolves?" she answered, clocking the rate of Stark's approach and the likelihood of their escape. The odds weren't good. "We'll stand and fight," she spoke and decided. "Maybe we'll even make it out alive." Bruce's smile was directed at the floor, but she saw it clearly.

They watched the crowds part as Tony finally descended from on high. Parting crowds was one of his lesser known super powers, Natasha thought begrudgingly.

"Where've you been?" Tony asked, sliding an arm around Bruce's shoulders. "You missed karaoke." His sharp eyes turned accusatory. "That was on purpose, wasn't it?" Bruce's sheepish smile was all the confirmation he needed. Tony heaved a dramatic sigh. "It's a good thing I like you, because you are hopeless at parties."

Bruce had one particular smile that Natasha had only ever seen directed at Tony. It was almost a smirk, but what set it apart from Bruce's collection of varied grins and grimaces was the affectionate humor that leaked through the sarcastic cracks. For reasons that Natasha had never been able to completely understand, Bruce was genuinely attached to Tony Stark. "Sorry, Tony," Bruce apologized, wearing the rare smile. "I needed a break from the party. And from your questionable music tastes. A James Bond playlist?" he added, glancing upward as Natasha finally made out the brassy strains of "Goldfinger" filtering through the Tower's speaker system.

"Methinks the scientist doth protest too much," Tony retorted slyly. "I saw you singing along with 'The World is Not Enough' earlier."

Bruce looked vaguely defeated. "Against my will," he said, suddenly addressing her. "It's a catchy song." She wasn't sure whether it was funnier that he'd been singing along or that he felt compelled to defend the fact. She was tempted to laugh at him, but she found herself defending him instead.

"He has a point. How does that qualify as Christmas music?" she asked Tony, lifting a condescending eyebrow.

"I would think that of all people, an actual spy would appreciate —" Tony broke off when a pale glow suffused their little circle, painting their faces in washed out tones of white and green. They looked up as one to see Tony's holographic mistletoe floating a few feet above their heads.

"Well," said Tony, "How about that." He glanced at Natasha and the sparkle in his eyes turned wicked. "The moment we've all been waiting for."

Natasha's mind raced through the possibility that he might try to kiss her — and she had already decided exactly what sort of armlock to use on him if he tried — but he didn't step forward. His eyes flicked to Bruce, and she started to wonder whether he meant for him to kiss her. The thought dawned on Bruce at the same time, judging by the sudden redness in his cheeks. He was actually blushing, the dork.

She knew exactly what she'd do if Tony attempted anything as stupid as a mistletoe kiss. But when she substituted Bruce into the scenario...

Tony spared her the discomfort of analyzing the strange sensation when he turned to face Bruce.

"Merry Christmas, Bruce," Tony said, and leaned in much too close, pressing a lingering kiss against Bruce's cheek. Natasha almost controlled her laugh, but Bruce's look of resigned dismay pulled it out of her.

"What?" said Tony when Bruce's only response was to stare at the ceiling and shake his head. "Natasha would have gone Black Widow on me if I'd tried that with her. You're the safer option, buddy. Besides," he paused to gesture at the hologram above. "You two obviously weren't going to use it, and it's a shame for good mistletoe to go to waste. Pepper!" His shout was sudden and brimming with exaggerated guilt. "This isn't what it looks like!"

Pepper was standing close enough that she couldn't have missed the kiss. To her credit, she raised an eyebrow and looked bored. Tony wilted a little at the lack of reaction, but his determination was stoked again in an instant.

"Bruce," he said, releasing Bruce's shoulders from his one-armed grip. "I'm so sorry to tell you this way...but I'm not actually in love with you, no matter what the tabloids say. And now I need to go explain that to my girlfriend, who I'm sure is wildly conflicted about all this. Try not to regret me." He patted Bruce's shoulder and the crowd parted for him as he made a beeline for Pepper. Bruce sighed.

"Well," he said, wiping his cheek with one hand.

"Too bad nobody got a picture for the tabloids," Natasha answered flatly. "Your first kiss with Tony Stark." Bruce's brow twitched minutely; Natasha zeroed in. "Wait. Is that the first time he's kissed you?"

Bruce winced. "Will it sound weird if I say no?"

Natasha laughed instead of answering and turned to scan for their original goal: the finger foods arranged on the buffet table a few yards away. She glanced back at Bruce, but his eyes had drifted upward again.

Tony's holographic mistletoe still floated silently above them. She meant to meet his gaze with a readymade smirk and a smart comment about ridiculous Christmas traditions, but her eyes landed on his lips instead. It would take one step to put herself within kissing range. Bruce's lips opened and closed again; the line of his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Kissing Bruce under the mistletoe...

She still couldn't decide. She wondered whether it was because she didn't really want to...or because she did.

"Bruce," she said, and she had no idea how to finish the sentence.

Overhead, the hovering image flickered and blinked out of existence, reappearing at the other side of the room. Bruce's sudden exhale matched her more controlled one.

"Missed our window," he said at last. His smile was only a little shaky.

Natasha tried to ignore the sudden heaviness in her chest. It felt remarkably like regret.

"Well," she said, producing a smirk, "There's always next year."

Bruce laughed.