Hey! Sorry it has been so long! Busy busy! Hopefully this is all right! Happy Holidays!

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"WAKE UP BITCHES! PRESENT TIME! IT'S CHRISTMAS! WAKE UP!"

Clint groaned and threw a pillow in the air, knowing that no matter what he did there was no way to make Tony's voice less annoying coming over JARVIS' intercom system. He gently slipped his arms away from Natasha's waist sitting up slowly and running a hand through his mess of sandy hair.

"You are fucking kidding me… for god's sake it's five in the fucking morning!" Natasha grumbled not bothering to move from her spot in the mess of blankets and pillows.

Clint chuckled as he pulled himself from the warm bed and headed to the washroom to clean himself up a touch before heading downstairs for gifts. It had been years since he had had a proper Christmas, the last time being before his parents had died, and this was Natasha's first Christmas ever. He slid out of his loose boxers and slipped into the shower. He hummed carols quietly as he washed his hair and face; his calloused fingers traced his many scars as he ran the soap down his body. He swallowed hard as insecurities washed over him, engulfing his excited Christmas thoughts in a thick layer of black.

His breath hitched in his throat as he took inventory of the marks littering his skin, yeah he was muscular, but those Abercrombie worthy curves were ruined by the scarred reminders of all the red in his own ledger. His eyes glanced to his right calf, where the skin was ravaged, disfigured, and coarse due to his armour catching on fire while trying to escape a burning building in Moscow. Slowly making his way up his body he catalogued the different marks, and what had happened for them to taint his skin; multiple bullet wounds throughout his body, knife wounds along his abdomen, old whip lacerations along his back, and other scars littered the tanned, tone skin. He bit his lip, how Nat could even think about finding him attractive crossing his mind.

Suddenly soft, small hands were running down his back. He glanced up to see Natasha standing there with him in the shower, her red hair draping down her back. They stared into each other's eyes, having their usual silent conversations.

I don't see it Nat.

You're not only partially deaf, your blind too dumb shit.

She leaned against him, gently kissing each of his scars, while her hands lead his to trace her own markings, making his insecurities vanish into thin air.

As the two blemished assassins continued to tangle themselves together JARVIS' British accent filled the room, "Mr. Barton and Miss Romanoff, may I suggest heading down to the common room quite promptly? Master Anthony is threatening to come up to your suite himself."

Natasha laughed. "Come on Barton; don't want to be late for my first Christmas."