A/N: Yes, I'm back with a holiday offering for anyone who's still reading. My New Year's resolution is to get back to writing, but you know how resolutions go. Fingers crossed.
Furtive Reindeer
Clint Barton scratched behind his rubber elf ears and adjusted his green elf hat — without jingling the bell at the tip. He vowed to never bet with Captain Con Artist again. Who knew the man who was hopeless at lying would be so adept at Cheaters Poker.
"It was for a good cause," Steve Rogers had smirked, when he handed Clint his elf costume and Natasha Romanoff her reindeer antlers.
At least Nat looked elegant in her sleek reindeer costume, a sleek brown velvet cat suit with a collar of golden bells and more bells dangling from her antlers. Clint the elf just looked like a clown — not that there was anything wrong with clowns. Some of his best circus friends were clowns.
The trouble was, Clint was a spy and a sniper. He wasn't down with noisy bells on his toes. Santa Steve kept sending him stern looks when Clint walked so softly the bells didn't chime. So the archer had to stomp around, which made him look like a super grumpy elf. The kids were all focused on Santa, so they didn't worry about the attitude of the cranky elf ushering them to his throne.
On the other hand, Nat was completely immersed in her character — one of her noted spy skills. She pranced everywhere, bells jingling gaily, as she fetched presents for Santa Steve.
Steve was dressed in his Captain American suit — the bright colored one he used for children's charities — with a fuzzy Santa hat on his head. He greeted each child, remembering many names from the year before.
Funny thing was, Clint would have helped with this charity event if Steve had just asked. (Cap said it was more fun to trick the spies.) Handing out gifts to kids in foster care was a cause dear to orphan Clint's heart.
Jittering his feet determinedly, Clint called a name, then gestured at the tween-age black youth, who came forward eagerly. "Hi, Santa Cap," he said. He sat on the wide arm of Santa's throne, much too grownup to sit on Santa's lap.
"Hello, Lamar," Steve answered. "Let's see," he pretended to think. "You asked for a basketball, right? A full-size, NBA model."
"Yes sir," the boy answered.
Natasha went to the box of presents and collected the correct one.
"You sure you want a full-size ball?" Steve asked. "Might be tricky to handle."
Natasha glared at him. It's not like she had a bag of alternate presents.
"No, I want a big one," Lamar said confidently. "Then my big brother and I can play together."
"You're a good brother," Steve said in approval. He looked around the room. "Where is Devonn?"
Lamar sighed. "He turned 18 this year and aged out of the foster system."
"Is he all right?" Steve asked with quick concern. Elf and reindeer perked up their ears. "Does he need a place to stay?"
"No, he's OK," Lamar reassured the Avenger. "Mr. Johnson found him a place in a transitional program." He said the long word with care, proud at getting it right. "He's learning a trade. He wants to be a plumber."
"A very important job," Steve agreed.
"He's happy there, but he doesn't think he'll get any presents for Christmas," the boy confided.
"Why not?"
"A couple of pipes burst at Prospect Place," said Mr. Johnson, director of Lamar's group home. "They had to make major repairs. All the money they'd saved for holiday festivities went to that."
"That's why Devonn decided to become a plumber," Lamar added.
"That's too bad about your brother's Christmas," Steve said sympathetically.
Lamar shrugged, the shrug of a youngster who'd had to weather a storm of disappointments in his life.
"He says they're all in the same boat, the other guys in the program and the manager and her family. But they all have a place to sleep and nobody will go hungry, so he's better off than a lot of 18-year-olds who age out of the program."
Mr. Johnson nodded. "Very true."
"And I can share my basketball with Devonn and the other guys at the house," Lamar added.
"You are an excellent brother," Steve approved. Natasha handed Steve the unwrapped basketball and a bag of candy that hadn't been on the list. Steve didn't even blink at the unexpected addition — sometimes he and Natasha were on the same wavelength, which was scary, Clint thought.
"Here's your present and something extra to share with your friends and your brother and his friends."
"Thank you, Santa Cap!" the boy enthused.
"Thank you, sir." Mr. Johnson added his own heartfelt thanks.
With a thoughtful expression on her face, Natasha watched Lamar and Mr. Johnson leave to visit the refreshments table. Clint and Steve watched her watching, then exchanged nods. Clint cleared his throat and called the next child forward.
Later that evening, Steve met Clint in Avengers Tower. The archer displayed a fistful of grocery store gift cards.
Steve looked doubtful. "Gift cards are fine for groceries," he said. "But for presents they're a little … impersonal."
"But we don't really know these kids," Clint said.
"And you call yourself an intelligence agent," Natasha scoffed, coming up behind the two with an open laptop in her arms.
"I've never said 'intelligence,'" Clint protested, getting a smirk in return. "Impart your wisdom, oh, most intelligent of agents."
"Finally, proper appreciation," Nat commented to Steve as she brushed past him and set the laptop on a table. They all pulled up chairs as she explained that everyone has an online presence these days.
"Nat has six or seven," Clint interposed.
"Minimum," she agreed.
She proceeded to pull up various accounts from each of the six young men at Prospect Place. The residents were all adults, so privacy rules weren't as strict as for children, but Steve was pretty sure Nat had broken a few laws and a couple of firewalls to get that information. It was another skill in her resume.
"This is Devonn's account," she said. "He's talking about wanting to buy an alarm clock, so he won't be late to classes and work. He said he sets the alarm on his watch, but he doesn't always hear the beeping. Then his friend John, who is also at the House, says at least Devonn has a watch. John uses an old iPhone 3. It isn't much good as a phone or an internet connection, but the clock, calendar and calculator still work.
"So that's two residents we know about. I've found accounts for the other four, we just have to scan through them."
With Steve and Clint helping, the Avengers quickly found the information they wanted and planned their gifts: Four forms of electronic devices, one five-speed bicycle and one black leather briefcase. Then they planned some extras, such as a bicycle helmet, and a nice shirt and tie to go with the briefcase.
The secret Santas dropped the grocery store gift cards in the residence mailbox, so the manager and her husband could shop for holiday supplies, but Natasha wanted to deliver the gifts more — personally.
Steve started to protest. Clint elbowed him sharply. Steve sighed and nodded.
Outside the residence late Christmas Eve, Natasha picked the lock and prepared to enter.
"I thought love is for children," Clint teased his longtime friend.
"These are children," she said fondly. "They've been badly used, yet they're still hopeful and planning positive futures. They deserve a reward."
"You won't get any argument from us," Clint answered and Steve nodded agreement.
In the morning, the household found more than a dozen wrapped presents (including the rather obvious bicycle) arrayed around the decorated Christmas tree that hadn't been there the night before.
Their security video showed nothing. The tree appeared between one (carefully edited) minute and the next.
When the organizer of the charity that gave gifts to foster children called Steve to discuss the event's success, she told him about the mysteriously appearing gifts. "It's a Christmas miracle," she exclaimed. "No one knows how those gifts got inside the house."
"Santa is magic," Steve reminded her. He chuckled, "And he has furtive reindeer."
Title comes from mishearing the lyrics of "That's Christmas to Me" by Pentatonix.