A/N: So here's a special holiday for you :) This is a Christmas one, so if you don't celebrate Christmas, I'm sorry and I don't mean to offend anyone. I hope you enjoy, and I want to wish you all a very happy holiday. Remeber that I am still taking prompts, so feel free to tell me what you want to see. Please read and review.
I would like to dedicate this to the people affected by the school shooting in New Town, my heart goes out to all of you during this holiday season. Even though it is so far away, we are still one world and I feel for you, I hope something can be done about this to prevent this from happening in the future.
Enjoy :)
They spend their first Christmas together on a mission.
It is dark, and cold, and they sit huddled together in a small cabin, waiting for their target to make a move.
He silently hands her a small cup of hot chocolate, which she gratefully accepts without a word, taking the mug from his calloused hands and curling herself around it, trying to absorb some of the warmth.
He wonders what she is thinking about, because she stares at the snow falling outside the window with glassy eyes and a puzzled look on her face. He wonders if she's thinking about her family, or her painful past. He wonders if she even acknowledges that it's Christmas.
They aren't suppose to talk, but he looks at her and whispers a soft, "Merry Christmas." because it's the right thing to do.
She turns to him, head tilted to the side as her look becomes even more puzzled, and she raises her eyebrows questioningly.
"You don't know what Christmas is?" he asks, taken aback, but her head shake and silently scoff tells him that she does, "You don't celebrate it?" he tries again, which at this she looks away, and he doesn't know how to take that.
She offers to take the first watch, and he leans back in the small cubbyhole that they are crowed in together. It grows comfortably quiet, with the wind outside the only sound, and he begins to fall asleep.
"Clint." she whispers suddenly, to which his eyes snap open.
"Clint." she says softly again, and it's not Barton, not Hawkeye as usual, but Clint. He hears her sigh, and feels rather than sees her shift her position to look at him and say, "Merry Christmas."
He falls asleep smiling.
He makes sure to book off their second Christmas.
But they end up on a mission anyway, and by Christmas eve they are no where near finished, and he is pissed and much too cold but she just sends him a small smile and tells him that it's all okay.
This time, when he wishes her a Merry Chirstmas, she immediately says it back.
She spends the third Christmas in a coma.
Every minute she spends in the hospital he is there with her, watching her, helping her, caring for her. He misses her, and he desperately wants her to wake up.
The doctors say she'll wake up in a weeks time, but he knows her, and he loves her, and he knows that she'll come back to him soon. They always spend Christmas together.
And when the clock strikes midnight, signaling that it is now Christmas day, he leans forwards and gives her a light kiss. A sweet, unknown present from him to her. She wakes up a few hours later, and it's the best present he could ever get.
For the forth Chirstmas, they go out to a bar, for lack of a better thing to do.
As they stumble back into her room at SHIELD, she grows unnaturally quiet, moving to sit on the edge of her small bed. He turns to look at her questioningly, and she glances at the clock and sighs. It's only a few minutes until Christmas.
"I must have been three." she starts softly, "It's the only Chirstmas I remember. It was snowing, but it often was, and cold. Papa had built a fire that warmed up the room, and mother made hot chocolate." she tells him almost wistfully, "I opened a present, and it was...it was a pair of ballet shoes, my mom was a ballerina." she whispers, "My sister and I we got, we got matching tutus," her words being to slur and her hands are shaking, the clock strikes midnight but she doesn't seem to notice, "And we spent the w-whole night dancing around the house."
Suddenly she breaks down into sobs. Harsh, painful sobs full of raw emotion that is usually unknown to both of them. Without thinking, Clint goes to her, sitting down beside her and wrapping his arms protectively around her shaking form. She doesn't push him away as he had expected she would, but instead pulls him closer and buries her face in his shoulder.
She cries well into the night, not stopping until he lifts her softly to the centre of the bed and she sobs herself to sleep, with his arms still around her. He watches her sleep for a while, noticing how it releases her, and even with the tear tracks she looks much more peaceful. And beautiful, but she would kill him if he said that to her. He always thinks she looks beautiful.
He eventually falls asleep beside her, and is pleased to find her still there in the morning when he wakes up.
They finally get a tree on the fifth Christmas.
She is like a kid in a candy story, as they walk down a row of tall evergreens, gazing back and forth at different trees, the stars twinkling above them. The night is cold, and they can see their breath in the air, but he doesn't mind, because he loves the way her fiery red hair looks underneath the black winter cap she is wearing.
It smells overwhelmingly of pine, which makes sense, yet the scent is somewhat comforting to her, and she finds it firmiliar. Like a home she used to have, and she isn't sure if that fact makes her happy or sad.
She stops suddenly infront of a tall, deep green Douglas Fir and, hands on her hips announces, "This one."
He nods, and buys the tree without a comment or complaint, smiling giddily at the way she watches the fluffy snowflakes fall as they make their purchase. He finds himself falling in love with her all over again. Falling in love with this her. This innocent simple version of her, with jeans and knit caps and smiles. He finds that he loves this her, and she finds that this her and letting it fall in love with him. Unlike the real her, with blood and guns and smirks, who denies and pushes away her emotions. Who is afraid that if she let's one part of her love him, the rest will too.
After Clint and the employee helping him finish strapping the tree to the top of there car, Natasha turns back to then, waiting to go. Even under her black hat, the snowflakes have mingled with her firey hair.
The employee grins at them then and says, "You two make a great couple."
Clint opens his mouth to correct him, but no words come out and he finds himself blushing when Natasha jumps in and says a sincere, "Thank you." with a smile on her face.
When the get into the car and are wished a Merry Christmas, both of them say it back, and both begin to wonder what it would be like if the people back there were the people in the car right now, and what it would be like if what the employee had said was true.
He finally gets her a real present on the sixth Christmas.
They were never really gift givers, preferring gentle caresses and soft looks to bows and gift bags. She never really needed anything, and she often told him that, so they were never really gift people, even though they both do (somewhat secretly on her part) love Christmas.
But he's finally gotten her a gift this year. A real honest gift, and he hopes she likes it, because the small box in his pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds.
It's Christmas eve, and they just got back from a mission mere hours ago. They've already gone to SHIELD, and now Clint sits in the living room of their rarely used apartment, waiting for her to come out of the shower.
He hears the water turn off and his palms start to sweat with nerves. Fighting is easy, now love, that's hard.
Minutes later, she saunters into the living room, and opens her mouth to say something but the words die on her lips as she sees him kneeling before her. "Clint." she whispers, hand on her heart, mouth open.
But she can't say anything else, because he presents her the ring, and in the back on his mind he wonders if she can hear how fast and loud his heart is beating. Because it hammers against his rib cage almost the the point of pain.
"Natasha." he says softly, and that is all he gets out because he sees her shaking. One hand over her heart, the other at her mouth, she shakes.
He has this whole romantic speak planned out, but he looks at her and knows that she understands, and the words tumble out, "Will you marry me?"
She's in his arms almost before the question is finished and he holds her tight to him. She doesn't even have to say anything, because when she offers him her hand for the ring, he knows her answer.
She hugs him again, arms wound tightly around his neck and he hugs her back with the same amount of force. "Merry Christmas, Natasha." he whispers softly in her ear.
She lets out a joyful laugh, so unlike her but perfect-sounding on her lips, "Merry Christmas."
Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays everyone, stay safe :D
