Chapter Thirty Four
Christmas Eve at Avengers tower. The festivities were well under way by the time Team Super Spy, still dressed in their travel-worn uniforms, stepped into the lounge after the lift doors opened. A huge Christmas tree shimmering with countless twinkling lights stood in the real estate between the fire place and the bank of windows allowing an unobstructed view of the New York skyline. A mound of brightly-wrapped packages had been piled beneath the tree. But the Avengers were ignoring the pile of presents for the time being. Instead, they were gathered around a long oak table laden with food.
Despite her mood and the official suspension removing her from active duty, Natasha couldn't help but smile at the remembrance of the Avengers decorating the tree for their first Christmas together. Tony had lost a substantial sum of money to Bucky after having bet Thor would break more ornaments than he placed on the tree. When Thor had heard about the bet, he'd scowled and muttered something about being an Asgardian, not clumsy fool. Tony and Thor hadn't spoken for a week afterwards.
Thankfully, everyone was friends again. Well, almost everyone. There was the black spot at the end of the table whose name began with an L and ended with an I. She felt Clint shudder next to her upon clapping eyes on the god of mischief again.
"My dearest Clint, what a wonderful surprise," Loki intoned upon noticing their arrival. "We feared you wouldn't return in time to partcipate in our celebrations. Missing your presence would have put a damper on the entire evening."
Thor looked vaguely proud.
"After all," continued Loki, "what would I do without having my minio…"
The god of mischief's comment was brought to an abrupt halt when Jane, who was seated next to Loki, stuffed a dinner roll into his mouth and exclaimed. "Oh my God, you have to try the rolls, Loki! I don't know what company makes these, but they're to die for!"
Colder-than-a-northern-fjord blue eyes, full of rancor, turned toward Jane, but Loki had few options to continue his tirade with his mouth crammed so full of bread his cheeks were puffed out on either side. It was either chew and swallow or spit it out onto his own plate, which was no doubt considered uncouth for a prince of Asgard.
Thor no longer looked vaguely proud.
"Hey, Lokster. Remember that can of Spam I sent up to your room for dinner last night? Keep talking and that will be Christmas dinner for you!" Stark said a little too cheerfully.
Tasha leaned in closer so only Clint could hear. "Focus. Don't let him mess with your head, and you know that's all he's trying to do."
She wouldn't force him, but her fingers tangled with his while he made up his mind whether or not to proceed into the lounge or return to the lift. They could have dinner in their apartment if he was too uncomfortable to eat with his nemesis in the same room. Better to retreat momentarily than risk undoing all those hours of needling it had taken to get him to open up about his feelings of helplessness after Loki had brainwashed him, but she desperately wanted him to stick it to the god of mischief by being confident enough to stay.
He finally took in a deep breath, squeezed her fingers, and headed for the table. "Sorry to be so late," he commented to the assembly. "There was a situation that needed our attention."
"Yeah, we were about to send a search party. Figured you were pulling a runner to Vegas for Christmas nuptials to Sandy Claws," Tony said, a fork full of mashed potatoes hovering in front of his mouth.
Pepper scowled and dropped her hand beneath the table. Half a second later, Tony jumped as though pinched.
"Ow! What? She does look like Sandy Claws. If Sandy Claws had red hair. And lily white skin. And a set of tits that would make a go…" He yelped again and jumped enough to bang his knee against the underside of the table.
Bruce snickered and got to his feet to pour a pink fizzy drink into a pair of champagne flutes by the two empty place settings at the table. His hand shook slightly, no doubt from the stress of being in the same room as Loki. "We saved you some turkey, but I'm not sure on the status of the mashed potatoes. Thor might have eaten them all already."
"As long as there's cranberry sauce left. Tasha promised to try it this time."
"I did not," she muttered. There was something insanely sweet about the way Bruce pulled her chair out for her. Seating herself, she accepted the platter of turkey passed in her direction. "And what is your obsession with getting me to try it?"
"It makes you twitch," he responded. "The entire purpose of my existence is to make you twitch." His smile was only slightly strained as he scooped a spoonful of cranberry sauce onto her plate before serving himself.
Given how upset her stomach had been the past few weeks, she was surprised by the sudden bite of hunger making her belly rumble. Everything smelled delicious, so she attacked the pile of turkey on her plate after drizzling a mass quantity of gravy over the meat. A little smile cracked her calm façade upon remembering her first Christmas in the US. Clint and she had never exchanged gifts, but they always made time to have Christmas dinner together, even if it was only via a Skype connection.
They ate in silence for a while. Everyone was more focused on cramming as much food in their mouths as possible than conversation until Loki remarked about Thor's hollow legs, because having hollow legs was the only way he could fit that much food into his body at once. Surprisingly, the Avengers chuckled in response to their nemesis' attempt at humor.
Tasha squinted a little. Was Loki wearing a My Little Pony sticker on his jacket? Someone had drawn four more legs on the horse, but despite her curiosity, she wasn't asking the god of mischief anything.
More laughter brought a pleasant buzz to the air after Bucky told a story about Steve's first taste of beer when Jenny, visiting from California for the holidays, asked, "It's nothing catastrophic, right? Whatever caused you to be late for dinner. Do you need any help cleaning up the situation?"
Clint responded, "Nothing we need to concern ourselves with when there is turkey and cranberry sauce to be consumed. There was trouble at the Vault. Rogue suffered something of an injury, but things are stable for the time being. She's in our infirmary with Gambit."
"I would have invited them to join us for dinner," Bruce said, "but Rogue was still unconscious, and Gambit insisted I should be with my family." There was something subconscious about the way he reached over to touch Jenny's shoulder, like he was reassuring himself she really was there.
Wild horses couldn't drag the information out of Tasha during dinner, so she didn't expand upon Clint's explanation. Besides, the stuffing was so fantastic she couldn't have stopped eating it long enough to explain even had she wanted to.
Naturally, Tony had to stick his foot in it. "Now there is a broad with a set of…" His comment practically slammed into an imaginary wall, and he scooted his chair away from Pepper's. "Can I just pinch myself from now on? Your nails are going to draw blood."
"No," Pepper said in a deadpan voice.
"I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight, aren't I?"
"No. When I make you sleep on the sofa, you sneak down to the lab and tinker. A time out isn't effective when you prefer the time out over the alternative."
"Make him swallow an estrogen pill for every time he says something inappropriate."
Crickets could have chirped in the silence that followed as all eyes turned toward Bruce. A fork clattered against a plate in the dead silence.
"There's maniacal, and then there's cruel. Guess which side of the line that suggestion exists on," Tony said, eyes wobbly and hurt as he looked to Bruce.
Pepper's voice deadpanned again when she said, "He has a hard enough time remembering his legal name. Don't ask him to remember his name has been changed to Antoinette Edwina Stark."
The bubble of silence burst when everyone laughed.
A few moments later, Thor thought to ask, "Why would you even notice another woman's feminine assets when you're betrothed to such a beautiful young…"
"You know, there's enough Spam in the cabinet for you too, Thorsky!" Tony exclaimed.
Jane chuckled. "Everyone with eyes can see Pepper adores you. I don't know where this insecurity stems from with regards to Thor being a temptation to every woman in Avengers Tower. Natasha, are you at all tempted by Thor?"
She arched a red brow. "That isn't a fair question."
"Oh, so you are," Clint responded with a bit of a wobble to his lips so one couldn't be certain if he were on the verge of laughing or crying.
"That's not what I meant."
"Sounded to me like you had to think about it."
"I didn't…" She trailed off into a sigh.
Clint's bottom lip continued to wobble.
Tasha could practically feel the heat of everyone's gazes boring into her, because how dare she mistreat sweet, innocent Clint Barton by accidentally hurting his feelings. He damn well knew she hadn't meant anything, so she was ninety-seven percent certain he was just faking. But then there was that three percent chance…
"Your mother was an eleven-toed sloth," she muttered in Russian about no one's mother in particular. "I apologize if I trampled on your fragile feelings, Barton."
He made a sniffling sound behind his napkin.
Those stares from the rest of her teammates were turning mutinous and accusatory.
"And a six-eared Chihuahua. I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me?"
"Try some cranberry sauce, and I'll forgive you," he finally said in a wobbly voice.
Tasha rolled her eyes so hard her brain hurt and then scooped up a spoonful of the red, gelatinous stuff. Honestly, it looked disgusting. It had the consistency of half-frozen sauce from a container of Salsbury steak that hadn't completed its microwave cycle yet. She stuffed the spoonful in her mouth and mashed it around with her tongue, lips turning farther down the longer she kept it in her mouth. A hard swallow forced it down her throat.
"God, Barton, what did you just make me eat? You actually like that stuff?"
"Cranberry sauce is good!" he exclaimed.
"Sure, if you want to spackle your walls with it! That is way too tart to be enjoyable." She guzzled the drink Bruce had poured for them only to realize said drink also contained a hint of cranberry flavor. She almost did a spit take.
"Cranberry and sparkling water," Bucky said with a chuckle. "In all fairness, I get where she's coming from. The tartness is unexpected, and the texture leaves much to be desired."
"I'm not particularly a fan either," Jenny said. "Who in their right mind makes gelatinous goop flavored with cranberries and willingly eats it? Were the pilgrims on crack during the first Thanksgiving to serve something like that?"
For once, Steve beat Tony to the history lesson when he said, "Actually, cranberry sauce wouldn't have been served at the first Thanksgiving. You need sugar to make it, and sugar would have been a very rare and precious commodity back then. I don't think the first recipe shows up until the latter half of the seventeenth century."
Tony gave Steve the methodical clap. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Steve Rogers is the Avengers' resident virgin." Seconds later, he yelped and practically came unglued from his chair again, presumably from another Pepper Pinch.
The pleasant drone of conversation continued unabated around Tasha when her thoughts turned inward. Kids were brought into the world under a lot more stressful situations, she supposed. Possible-Barton-Spawn could do much worse than to become the first Avenger Baby. It would have a slew of aunts and uncles willing to go to battle in its defense, and God help the schoolyard bully who tried picking on Possible-Barton-Spawn.
Rhodey, who had somehow managed to wrangle enough leave to come for Christmas dinner, was regaling them with an embarrassing story about Tony pre-Iron Man when she slid a hand under the table and touched her stomach. For the first time, she really felt at home with the people around her. Somewhere along the way, they'd become a family. There were no doubts whatsoever her teammates would go to Hell and back for any kid she brought into the world.
A couple hours later, after everyone had recovered from their turkey comas and had been allowed to open one present from beneath the tree, Tasha finished brushing her teeth and emerged from the bathroom smearing the last of her moisturizer into her skin. She was already dressed for bed in one of Clint's old t-shirts and a pair of cotton panties. Off in the corner, his body illuminated by twinkling lights from the Christmas tree he had insisted they have in their apartment, she watched him replace a faceplate on one of the air conditioning vents.
"Clint, laws of physics dictate you can't possibly escape my clutches by fitting into that vent shaft. It's just not possible," she said, her voice tinged with laughter.
He chuckled. "My name isn't Hank Pym, so you're probably right."
When he got back to his feet, he padded in her direction. A package wrapped up in paper printed with snowmen was clutched in his hand. He was shirtless, his upper body ripped with honed muscles. His complexion was the exact opposite of hers; swarthy with a hint of olive. A pair of pajama pants hugged the points of his hips where the musculature of his abs narrowed into a deep V leading down to his groin. The pajamas looked to be barely defying the laws of gravity, like the slightest provocation would nudge them from his hips.
In short, Clint was sexy as Hell, and Tasha had to remind herself to look him in the eye rather than drooling on his chest. "I thought we had a standing order not to exchange presents," she said. Seconds later, she nibbled at her bottom lip, eyes slipping back below his neck.
"This being our first Christmas together as a couple… since Russia… I wanted to get you something to mark the occasion. It's nothing fancy or expensive." He started to thrust the gift toward her only to stop. "Wait! I have the perfect thing to go with this moment." He played with his phone until the chords of Jingle Bell Rock poured from the speakers, and only then did he offer her the present.
Rather than accepting the gift, she pivoted on her heel and moved to the wall. "I guess that means I should give you this. You know, as a token of my affection." She pulled an impressionist painting of a ballerina away from the wall and unlocked a safe hidden there, returning moments later with a present of her own which was thrust in Clint's direction.
Only then did she tear open the paper-Clint sucked at wrapping, so the paper was a mess of wadded corners and tape stuck in random locations-to find a small knife tucked inside a box. The blade was less than length of her palm. Abstract feathers had been engraved into the hilt and swirled up the handle where the pommel flared into a hawk's head and beak.
"So I can always be close to you even we have to be apart," he whispered.
Warmth welled in her breast, and she blinked rapidly to dry moisture pricking her eyes. "Thank you. But I'd better not wake up with a hawk tattooed on my ass."
He laughed while tearing into the present she'd given him. Inside rested a new wrist and finger guard, essential tools for an archer to avoid the bow string slapping against his wrist or the snap of the string damaging his fingertips. The widow symbol had been craved into the leather on the underside of the guard, the side designed to rest against his skin.
Clint flat out grinned. "Thanks, Tash. I'll work on breaking it in at the target range tomorrow." He stepped closer and wound an arm around her waist to pull her flush against his body. "So did I catch you checking me out a minute ago? Is there Christmas sex in my future?"
"In your dreams," she returned, but hiding the laughter in her tone was impossible.
Their playfulness ended when her mouth made contact with his, when he feathered his fingers through the fine hair at the nape of her neck to pull her in tighter so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue wasn't insistent or hurried. The fingers that traced the edge of her panties, lightly roughing her soft skin with his calluses, were content to take their time.
By the time he backed her up and lowered her to the bed, she was already awash with desire. Need helped her finally encourage his pajamas to give up the fight against gravity. Her fingertips flexed against the tight muscle of his ass. They hadn't had sex since before Amora had abducted him, so every nerve ending in her body was starved for his affection. In short, they had a long night ahead of them.
Past midnight was technically Christmas, so it was Christmas when Jane found herself sitting alone at the dining room table in the suite she shared with Thor. Ice in the champagne bucket was melting profusely, and the flames burning in cinnamon candles were threatening to be smothered by melted wax when she decided Thor had abandoned her in favor of spending Christmas with Loki.
Thor's relationship with his brother was still strained despite the many improvements Loki had made during his stay at the tower. She desperately wanted Loki to remain a central figure in Thor's life, so it wasn't as though she wanted to replace him as the center of Thor's universe. On the contrary. Being the center of anyone's universe sounded exhausting. But she would be lying if she said being left waiting for so long didn't sting.
Tossing the remnants of a chocolate-covered strawberry into the waste basket, she padded into the bathroom and donned the silk robe hanging on the back of the door, hiding the little red nightgown she'd intended Thor to strip from her. Part of his Christmas present was that she was going to surprise him with tonight being their first night together… in the sexual sense. At least that had been the plan earlier. A knot of emotion clogged her throat. All the anticipation of finally popping their couples virginity and she was alone.
A champagne flute was poised in her fingertips-because she may as well drink it before it became so warm as to no longer be enjoyable-when the front door was unlocked and Thor hurried inside. He cradled a large gray puppy, a red ribbon around its neck, in his arms.
"Forgive my tardiness, Jane. I intended to return some time ago, but Ghost escaped from Loki's apartment. We have spent the past couple of hours chasing him through the tower. My brother finally corralled him outside Anthony and Mistress Pepper's apartment." A smile bloomed on Thor's lips, his eyes lighting up until he thought to add, "I do believe the Starks are engaging in some manner of exertion by the sounds drifting through their door. Perhaps they should be reminded that exertions on this sacred holiday should be forbidden."
She laughed. "It's probably the pleasant kind of exertion. Loki got you a puppy for Christmas? That was sweet of him."
"No, you misunderstand, Dear Heart. Ghost is my gift to you. You spoke not long ago about being disallowed from owning pets growing up, but you are a grown woman now. Bruce retrieved him from the place where abandoned animals are adopted, and Loki hid him in his apartment to avoid you seeing your present before the holiday."
Her dark eyes softened and flooded with moisture. "You remembered me saying that? That's the sweetest thing ever. Although I feel like I say that constantly around you."
"I will endeavor to continue giving you numerous reasons to say such in regards to me," he responded, approaching slowly until Ghost woofed and scrambled to greet Jane.
A warble of sound escaped her throat, and there was no eradicating her grin upon wrapping her arms around the puppy's neck. He looked, at least in part, to be Irish Wolfhound. Regardless, he was probably the most adorable thing on four legs and had the hugest brown eyes she'd ever seen. She laughed again when Ghost attempted to lap at her face.
"Oh Thor, he's precious! We'll be able to take him to Asgard?"
"Yes," responded Thor. "The atmosphere of Asgard will be agreeable to him. You're pleased with your gift? Determining an appropriate gift was difficult. Anthony suggested I give you something called a le petite morte. I was uncertain what that was, but Bruce seemed to think it would be inappropriate."
Jane laughed so hard she sat down on the nearest chair and didn't notice Ghost trying to steal a strawberry from the tray until he almost had it in his mouth. She pushed said tray farther onto the table despite the puppy's protests. Chocolate was bad for puppies!
Only then could she respond to Thor's comment. "It's French for 'the little death.' That's slang for an orgasm."
His cheeks colored, and his eyes drifted down from her face, not that the journey would result in anything more titillating than seeing Ghost clutched against her chest. "Bruce is right. Such would be an inappropriate Christmas gift."
"No," she whispered, her pulse increasing dramatically. "No, Thor, it wouldn't be inappropriate tonight."
"Does that mean you would like for me to give you a miniature fatality?"
Her lips twitched again, and she settled Ghost on the floor to begin nosing around his environment. "Little death," she reminded him. Rising, she tugged the knot free that held her robe closed. The garment slithered open to reveal the little red nightie that was barely more than a few scrapes of silk and lace sewn together.
His adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, gaze dipping below her neck. "Would you like for me to give you a little death?"
"Your physical present is taped somewhere on my body against my skin. If you want your gift, you'll have to come and find it."
"Such would be my pleasure, Dear Heart."
And then there were explodey, sparkly things in Jane's present accompanied by a chorus of Hallelujah's trumpeting from the throats of ten thousand angels in lingerie. Thor eventually found his present taped against her ribcage but was more intent in learning the texture of her skin with teeth and tongue than opening his present. It was a little pendant shaped like the Hubble telescope suspended from a robust chain, because there was absolutely nothing delicate about Thor. Except maybe his tongue when he pressed it against her most feminine areas.
Her "little death" reminded her of KY His and Hers commercials. Or maybe the Trojan Twister commercials. She couldn't think properly enough to figure out which best described the results of his determined pursuit.
A/N: I really thought the Avengers needed a nice bonding experience after all the mayhem of this story. What better way to bond than over Christmas?
Next Chapter: Christmas continues with the Starks, Bruce and Jenny, and Team Bachelor.