"18th of December"
JARVIS was keeping a close eye over the preparations for Christmas, and the couples' projects. If ever an AI could have emotions, JARVIS certainly could.
He enjoyed watching the doctors in the laboratory, testing their first successful candle holders for breaking points, going so far as to try blowing them up. The glass did not melt at low temperatures, nor even medium-high temperatures. They broke when thrown from a certain height, but not easily. And blowing up… it was best not to talk about how long it took for them to blow up one of the test subjects. Suffice to say, the candle holders were hardy indeed.
He felt concern for Mr. Odinson's friend, who appeared to be low in spirits. JARVIS looked after him while Agent Romanov and Mr. Odinson worked on their project. Agent Romanov had designed the scarves quite swiftly, once she had the runes provided by Mr. Odinson. He had apologised a great deal for his long absence; but then it took very little time for the Avengers and company to accept Mr. Fandral into the fold while he tried to recover from his heartbreak. Fortunately for their team, Mr. Odinson took quickly to knitting, and he and Agent Romanov were nearly finished. All that remained were to finish the ends and add bobbles.
He was pleased that Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes had settled their dispute – with assistance from JARVIS, of course – and they were in the process of printing the labels for the DVDs. Colonel Rhodes turned out to be skilled in the art of creating the technical part of DVDs, and Ms. Potters proved an apt designer. She was especially talented at choosing the most appropriate fonts. They were becoming close friends.
The two remaining couples concerned JARVIS. There appeared to be some mutual attraction between Captain Rogers and Agent Coulson, and yet it could very easily be discounted as friendship. JARVIS was not programmed to experience romantic feelings, and Sir's complicated past relationships gave humans headaches attempting to unravel them. For an AI, a being of pure logic, such things were even more troublesome. He could only observe. The touches always seemed accidental, and led to differing reactions between the two men. JARVIS wondered that they achieved anything, with such distractions.
Finally, Agent Barton and Sir. JARVIS had been the most concerned about Sir being paired with Agent Barton, as he had observed Sir's apparent feelings for the agent. He nearly adjusted the results to reassign his creator; however, that was not up to him. And it provided ample opportunity, watching them together, to see that Agent Barton was not indifferent to Sir. Were JARVIS certain that the man's intentions were pure, he would have gladly arranged for them to meet under mistletoe. But he was not willing to risk Sir's heart on what could amount to mere infatuation.
And so JARVIS continued to watch each couple as they neared Christmas. With one week remaining, he hoped – yes, hoped – that they would all finish in time.
The hug Phil had received when he turned up at Steve's door was a surprise. He'd arrived back at the tower late the previous night, and even taken a sleeping tablet to ensure that he would get in a good number of hours before they had to meet, and get started on the chocolates.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Steve said, and he let Phil go after a few seconds of awkwardness.
"Uh, thank you," Phil said. He cleared his throat, and Steve backed off. Phil held up a bag. "I saw snowflake chocolate moulds and edible glitter, so I bought some. I know we already have stars, trees, and snowmen—"
"I bought Santa faces as well," Steve said.
"…And Santa faces," Phil continued. "But I decided that I should run them by you."
Steve's face lit up as he looked over the chocolate moulds.
"It'll save time having extras," he said.
"That was my thinking. I apologise for not being here the last few days."
"It wasn't your fault," Steve said. "Bad guys work over the holidays."
Phil smiled, and followed Steve to the kitchenette. The different chocolates were already laid out, as well as the moulds, the other ingredients, and any decorations. After the chocolates were made, they were going to work on fudge for Christmas Day lunch. If there was extra chocolate left over at the end, they were going to use it for decorating the sugar cookies on Friday.
While Steve added the glitter and new moulds to the things on the counter, Phil tied an apron around his waist. He dressed down for food preparation, and since they were going to be working with chocolate, it was definitely a good idea. Even aprons weren't infallible.
"Are you okay, after the mission?" Steve said. He ducked his head. "I know you don't like me asking, but I'm just trying to be a… a friend. And a friend asks a friend if they're okay."
"I'm mobile," Phil said flippantly. Steve frowned. "Sorry. I'm absolutely fine. Most of the time was spent travelling, sitting around, travelling, and debriefing. There wasn't too much action, and most of it was taken care of by Barton and Ward. Even May didn't have to get involved… But then you only know Clint, so the rest wouldn't mean that much to you."
"I just don't know them," Steve said. "That's all."
Phil shrugged, and stood beside Steve at the kitchen bench. "What do you want to start with?"
"The trees," Steve said. "They're going to be the most difficult. Santa and the snowmen will be easy enough to decorate—"
"Your job—"
"And we'll be putting glitter on the stars—"
"And snowflakes, now—"
"But the tree moulds have to be lined with green icing first," Steve finished. "I was working on that when you got here."
"So I noticed," Phil said, nodding at the green royal icing that Steve had mixed up. "Do you need any further help, or should I start melting the chocolate?"
"Go ahead," Steve said, nodding at the saucepans. "I didn't start up the heat, because I wasn't sure when you were going to get here."
"Perfectly reasonable," Phil said. "I was exhausted when I got back, and it was late. I didn't want to disturb you with a text message, in case you worried that it was an emergency."
"I probably would've been halfway into uniform before I read the message," Steve said.
"…Speaking of uniform," Phil said, trying not to blush, "thank you for the picture you sent. I didn't have time to reply before we reached the no-phone zone. From then on, it was internal communications. So I'm thanking you now."
"You're welcome," Steve said. He tapped the spoon on the edge of the bowl. "Colour's even now. Do you want me to put it into the moulds?"
"Please do. You'll have steadier hands than I will. Artist's hands."
"Big artist's hands," Steve muttered, but Phil noticed him carefully pressing the icing into the leafy part of the moulds. It would just be on the front of each chocolate; the trunk and the back would all be dark chocolate, which Phil was starting to melt. As soon as Steve was satisfied, he pushed the moulds towards Phil.
They'd used nearly half of the chocolate they'd bought by the time they filled all of the moulds. Steve wouldn't be able to decorate them until they were set. Phil lined a baking tray while Steve began to work on the fudge.
"Should we have some music?" Phil asked.
"Yeah," Steve said. "Can I pick?"
"Go ahead."
"JARVIS, my favourite," Steve said shyly. Phil wondered why, until he heard the overture for the Muppet's Christmas Carol. He smiled, and watched as Steve bopped along to it. He probably wasn't even aware that he was dancing, and it was utterly endearing.
Then the first song began, and Steve joined in.
"When a cold wind blows it chills you, chills you to the bone," he sang. Phil stared at him, wondering how many times Steve had listened to the CD and watched the movie, and had to prompt him when the mixture was ready to be poured.
"You don't have to stop singing," he murmured, and he gently pushed Steve out of the way. "Hold the tray, and I'll do this."
Steve was pink in the cheeks, but he nodded. He even spoke the dialogue not on the track, and Phil laughed softly as he poured, and then spooned, the fudge mixture into the baking tray, with Steve holding the paper in place. Phil scraped as much of the fudge as he could into the tray, and let Steve go crazy with sprinkles. He sneaked some of the mix from the saucepan to test it, licking it from his finger as he watched Steve. When Steve noticed, he grinned, and then scooped some of the chocolate-y goodness from the pan as well.
"It's good," he said around his finger.
The sugar must have gotten to Phil, because he stole another bit of melted fudge and smeared it down Steve's nose. He giggled at the look of shock, and was prepared for the fudge that Steve smeared on his cheek. Then it became a war of chocolate fudge, edible glitter, some of the remaining condensed milk, and icing they hadn't used. Steve even grabbed icing sugar, and Phil was soon surrendering for the sake of the kitchen and his clothes. His shirt was already covered in confection.
"I missed your nose," Steve said. He pulled Phil close by the front of his shirt, and rubbed his nose against Phil's to share the somewhat soft fudge.
Staring into each other's eyes, they both went still. The only sounds were their shared breaths, and the music still playing in the background.
"I look into the eyes of love and know that I belong," Robin the Frog sang. Phil jumped back, and Steve let go of his shirt. Phil tugged it back into place for something to do, and avoided eye contact. Steve coughed.
"I'll put the fudge in the fridge," he said.
"And I'll… I'll clean up," Phil said. He realised that they hadn't turned off the stove elements, and did that while Steve put the tray in the crowded fridge. It was going to smell like chocolate for weeks by the time Christmas arrived. "You want to shower while I do this?"
"Okay," Steve said. "You can shower, too, if you like." Phil nearly dropped the cutlery he was moving. "I mean, by yourself! Obviously."
Before Phil could reply, Steve had ripped off his apron and hurried out of the room.
Well, this had the potential to be awkward. He may as well get on with putting things in the dishwasher, and he'd wait in the living room until Steve was done. And definitely not think about the thing that nearly happened.
Phil looked up when he heard the bathroom door open. Steam emerged first, and then Steve with a towel around his waist, and scrubbing at his wet hair with another. With all the melted sweets still stuck to his face, Phil hoped that any drool would be camouflaged.
"The bathroom's all yours," Steve said. "Sorry if I took awhile."
"No," Phil said. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for not tripping over the word, faced with semi-naked Steve Rogers. "You were… you were prompt."
"I'll organise some clothes for you, so you can get back to your room without being all sticky."
Phil thought that it would provoke more comments if he was seen in Steve's clothes, but he kept that to himself. "Thank you," he said.
Steve stepped out of the way, and Phil hurried into the bathroom. He shut the door, and immediately began to attack his buttons. His shirt was off, and his trousers around his ankles when he realised that he should have waited for clothes. Then he wouldn't have to walk out in just a towel, like Steve had. He looked around. Sure enough, there was no bathrobe.
Resigned to his fate, Phil finished undressing, and then hopped into the shower. He nearly scalded himself on the water that came out. It was understandable. If he'd been trapped in the ice for seventy years, he'd prefer hot showers as well.
He only took about five minutes, scrubbing his face, hands, and chest. (Never would he make sweets again with a shirt open at the collar. It was a good thing he was excellent when it came to washing out stubborn stains.) When he got back to his room, he would have a proper shower, with his own soap. There was no need to encroach upon Steve's hospitality any longer than absolutely necessary.
Sighing, he turned off the shower and shook off as much water as he could. Then he found the towel Steve had left out for him, wrapped it around his waist, and left the bathroom. Steve jumped to his feet.
Phil played with the top of his towel. "Clothes…?"
"Hmm? Oh!" Steve grabbed a folded t-shirt and a pair of trousers. "Here." He brought them over and held them out. Phil took them, wondering whether he'd have to roll up the legs of the trousers. Then Steve made a sound, and moved Phil's arm out of the way.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Is that… it's your scar."
"Yes," Phil said. He'd wondered when Steve would notice. "It reminds me that I'm alive, not some robot or other type of replacement. I don't know when I'll know the full details, if I ever will; but for the time being… I'm just trying to get into the Christmas spirit."
Steve was staring at the marred skin, horrified. Phil couldn't blame him. But he shivered when Steve ran a thumb down the cut.
"You could've died," he whispered.
"I did die, technically."
"Don't say that." Steve shook his head. "You're right. Christmas spirit. Happy about being alive. Here, with friends and family."
"Mmm." Phil hoped that didn't sound too much like a moan. He shivered again. "I'd better get dressed."
Steve nodded slowly, and backed off. Right away, it felt easier to breathe, and Phil retreated to the bathroom, shirt and trousers in hand. Though, come to think of it, he'd really only need the shirt. But it was the thought that counted.
Natasha hummed as she worked on the end of Clint's scarf. She was up to the last few bobbles, and her knitting needles moved at lightning speed. The thought of describing it that way to the apparent god of thunder amused her, and she smiled, still humming.
"What is that song which occupies your mind?" Thor asked. Natasha's gaze flicked up to him, and then back to her work.
"Katyusha," she said. "It is Russian."
"It has a pleasing tune."
Natasha smiled, and returned to her knitting. She was on the second-last bobble when she glanced at Thor again.
"How is Fandral?" she asked. "Has he finished mourning yet?"
"Perhaps he may have found his grief easier to bear had he courted Loki," Thor said, and he finished a bobble before he continued. "Had he spoken to Loki before the time of my coronation, my brother may not have fallen."
"Then you wouldn't have met any of us," Natasha said. Thor chuckled.
"I may well have still been cast to Midgard," he said. "Until my lesson was learnt. It is the uncertainty of whether or not Loki would have allowed Fandral to court him, and what relationship may have arisen, which contributes to Fandral's distress."
"Well, it's done now," she said. "There." She flicked the scarf so that it rested all the way to her feet, and examined it. "That is Clint's finished."
"And I am nearing the end of Steven's gift," Thor said. Natasha folded Clint's present while Thor completed Steve's. He checked it as well, and then folded it.
"This calls for a celebration," Natasha said. "We just have to wrap them, and then we'll be done. Only the cards left."
"We have done well," Thor said, nodding approvingly as he looked over all eight knitted scarves. "It was an excellent idea."
"Drink?"
"The strongest you have!"
I've had a job interview today, if it's of interest to anyone.
Maybe I'll be able to get into the Christmas spirit before my sister and her fiancé arrive on Saturday. Or I could just continue to get on with things, and hope that I don't end up in a panicked rush by Christmas Eve.
When I decided to write this story, I asked on Tumblr if anyone had any requests for it. I sort of filled two of the three requests; one was for candy-making, the other for the boys somehow ending up naked. Since this is a get-together fic, and since I'm trying not to write so much smut, I made it naked-except-for-a-towel. And because I decided to combine that with a food fight, I made it a chocolate scene. Okay, so they made candy in an earlier chapter. Whatever. (You can tell that I'm not in the Christmas spirit yet. Gah.) Anyway, the third request will be filled on Christmas Day.
Please review!