In which Clint nearly forgets Thanksgiving, worries about Kate, and gets a surprise visitor.
November 2012, Brooklyn
Thanksgiving snuck up on Clint that year.
How, exactly, that had happened, considering the constant commercials, window displays, and supermarket promotions, he wasn't sure, but he figured he could be forgiven for it under the circumstances.
The first he thought about it was when Simone from the first floor came knocking on the door.
"You'll be at the party this year, right?"
It was an abrupt greeting, and Clint faltered, grabbing Lucky's collar before he could completely lose his mind over the presence of a new person. "Party?"
"The Thanksgiving dinner," Simone said. "On the roof. Like we do every year."
Rooftop parties had been a tradition in the building for longer than Clint had been there, even when the previous landlord had technically banned them.
He hadn't lived there, so everyone just said they'd stop and didn't.
"You're not normally here," Simone continued. "It's on Thursday."
"That's this week?" Clint blurted out.
Simone gave him a look that just bordered on sympathetic. "Are you coming?"
Clint hesitated, but Peggy and Steve were away on vacation and weren't like to be back until the new year; as soon as the weather started to turn, Peggy had decided that they were going somewhere warm for the winter.
Clint didn't blame them.
And he had nowhere else to go, unless Natasha suddenly appeared - but if he hadn't remembered, she almost certainly hadn't.
"Sure," he said. "Sounds like fun."
"Good," Simone said, consulting a clipboard. "Can you bring green beans?"
"Do they need to be edible?" Clint asked, only half-joking. He could cook - Peggy had made sure of that - but vegetables were not his strong point.
Simone pulled a face. "In that case, bring a dessert. It can be store-bought."
"That's safer," Clint said. "I can do that."
"Good," Simone said. "Six pm; don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Clint called after her. "We must never let her meet Nat," he said to Lucky when the door was closed.
Lucky gave him a very unimpressed look.
Unlike Clint, Kate had not forgotten Thanksgiving. On their way back from the gym on Tuesday, she asked, "Are you coming to watch the parade?"
"Not my thing, Katie-Kate," Clint said. "Crowds make me jumpy."
"There's going to be an Avengers float," Kate said.
Clint almost tripped over his feet. "Sorry, a what?"
"Avengers," Kate said. "You know, the people who saved Manhattan from aliens."
Bless her for not pointing out that he was one of them in public.
"How do …" Clint shut his mouth, and kept it shut until they got back to his apartment. "How do they even know about the Avengers?" He asked then, shutting the bows away in the weapons safe.
"I mean, it was all over the news," Kate said.
Clint rolled his eyes. "I know that. But the name 'Avengers' was a SHIELD concept that got shut down. How did that get out?"
Kate shrugged. "Stark, I think."
"Of course it was," Clint muttered.
"The media do like to name things like that," Kate said. "If he hadn't said it, they would have made something up."
Clint considered that, then winced. "Yeah, fair point."
That was how Peggy had ended up as 'Lady Liberty' after all.
"What's the big deal?" Kate asked. "It's not like anyone knows who you are."
"It's still weird," Clint muttered. "I'm not a superhero, Kate; I'm just a guy with a bow. I'm not anyone to look up to."
Kate didn't look convinced. "If you say so."
"Are you going to the parade?" Clint asked.
Whatever Kate had guessed about his job, she still didn't know exactly what he did, and he didn't want to tell her.
"Yeah we go every year," Kate said, not looking enthused. "My father's company has a thing."
Of course they did.
The Bishops would never take Kate out for a family outing just for fun. Going as part of a family trip to appear as the perfect family, on the other hand, that was acceptable.
"I have a red dress," she continued. "I hate it."
"Then don't wear it," Clint said. "You're sixteen; they can't make you."
"You clearly don't understand family politics," Kate said. "I wear the dress; they don't go on and on and on about it."
"That's not politics, that's blackmail," Clint said. "Actually … forget it, that is politics."
Kate smiled weakly. "It's not the end of the world. It's just a dress."
Somehow, despite the party and the whole parade/dress conversation, Clint still managed to forget about Thanksgiving until Thursday morning, when he emerged from the laundry room in time to meet the Bishops exiting the elevator.
It looked like they were heading out for a night at the opera rather than to watch a parade outside in the cold.
Derek Bishop was wearing a tux, his wife an emerald green dress that looked like velvet, with a fur wrap.
Kate didn't have a wrap, he noticed, and her dress was skimpy enough that he had to bite back the urge to send her back upstairs to change.
She did look beautiful, but incredibly uncomfortable, and he didn't blame her.
"Good morning Clint," Joanna greeted brightly. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"And to you. Thanks for reminding me," Clint said. "I need to run to the store, or Simone might kill me." He looked at Kate. "I think you might need a jacket, Kate; it's freezing out there."
"I don't have a jacket that goes with this dress," Kate said, a fixed (fake) smile on her face.
"It was a gift," Joanna explained, "from one of Derek's business associates."
Clint would have said it was a highly inappropriate gift to give a teenage girl you weren't related to, but then maybe that was just him. He wasn't exactly part of the high society crowd after all.
(Neither were the Bishops, but they liked to pretend.)
"Still, I'm sure that associate wouldn't want her to freeze to death." He pulled a dry black jacket out of his laundry pile. "Here. Black goes with everything. Enjoy the parade."
Clint knew that the chances were her parents wouldn't let her wear it, but he had to try.
"Thanks," Kate said quietly, following her parents out of the building.
Clint watched them go with a frown. He had always known that her parents didn't really care, but he had assumed that they would not cause her any harm, even if just so people wouldn't notice.
He was starting to rethink that.
When he got back to his apartment, the door was cracked, and he was fairly sure he had a) closed it and b) locked it.
Lucky wasn't barking, but then he was not exactly the best guard dog - unless any intruders were allergic and/or afraid of dogs - so he set the laundry on one hip (which always made him feel like an overwrought Victorian housewife for some reason), and kicked the door open, his other hand on the knife he carried everywhere.
Natasha was sitting in the armchair, a smile on her face that would have been incredibly seductive, were it not for the Labrador trying to climb on to her lap.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Clint asked with a grin, setting the laundry to one side. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you have me for about six hours," Natasha said. "Then I need to be in DC. But I thought I'd drop by and surprise you."
Clint laughed, bending down to kiss her. "You know, if I try and surprise you, I risk getting shot."
"Yeah, I know," Natasha said. "I kind of wish I could turn that off. I saw Kate - and I assume her parents - leave; where are they off to?"
"It's Thanksgiving," Clint said. "They're going to watch the parade."
Natasha frowned. "Is this a part of American culture I've somehow missed?"
"No, it's just them," Clint said. "His company do some kind of … thing to watch the parade, and that apparently means dressing like that in near-freezing weather."
"She didn't have a jacket," Natasha said. "They used to dress me like that for honey trap missions."
"Well, apparently it was a gift from one of her father's business associates," Clint said.
Natasha scowled. "Well, I'd keep an eye on that 'associate' if I were you."
"Planning on it," Clint said, because he had, but the fact that she had the same concerns was enough to send a jolt of fear through his heart.
She would be fine, he told himself. She would be surrounded by people; she would be fine.
"Did you hear that there's an Avengers float?" He asked.
Judging by the look on her face, she definitely had not heard that.
"When's the parade?"
Clint checked his watch. "About half an hour."
"We're watching that," Natasha said, searching for his remote. "Then you're taking me to bed until I have to leave again."
"Yes ma'am," Clint said. "Let me just run to the store real quick."
Natasha gave him a fond look. "You don't need to feed me."
"I do have edible food here," Clint said. "I need to run to the store because there's a potluck on the roof tonight and I was told to bring a dessert. The woman who organises it is about half my height and built like a twig, but I think she might more terrifying than you." He hesitated. "Do you want to hang around a bit longer and come along?"
"I wish I could," Natasha said, and he almost believed her, "but I had to pull a few strings to get the time we've got."
Clint grinned. "Aw, Nat, you do the sweetest things." He kissed her again. "I'll be right back."
Most people had evidently done their holiday shopping beforehand, but thankfully the nearest store was still open and still had some packaged desserts, so he returned triumphant.
Natasha was stretched out on the couch, Lucky sprawled on top of her. "Your dog is as affectionate as you are."
There was absolutely no complaint in her voice, and she was scratching Lucky's ears, so he was in doggy heaven.
Clint chuckled. "Blame Kate."
"What did you get?" Natasha asked, nudging Lucky off so she could sit up and make room for him.
"Cherry cheesecake," Clint said. "Apparently they were sold out of pumpkin pie."
"Imagine that," Natasha said dryly. "I bet someone else has one."
"Oh, they will," Clint said. "I haven't been able to go to the Thanksgiving party here for years, so I'm actually looking forward to it. If it's anything like the holiday party, it'll be brilliant." He sat down beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders, just as the TV switched to the live coverage of the parade.
"Is it always this big?" Natasha asked.
"It's always big," Clint said. "It's bigger this year. It's like a huge 'fuck you' to Loki."
"I can appreciate that," Natasha said, resting her head on his shoulder.
The Avengers float was leading the whole thing, to his surprise. Rumours were still abound as to who exactly they all were - with the exception of Iron Man, of course.
Everyone knew who Iron Man was, unless they had been living under some kind of rock.
Captain America and Lady Liberty were at the front of the float, their costumes exceptionally bright.
"Did they make them in the dark?" Natasha muttered.
"Nah, that makes sense," Clint said. "Lots of people, big crowds; if you want to be seen at the back, you make everything brighter."
"I suppose," Natasha said. "Is that … Could they really do nothing better for Hulk?"
'Hulk' was a regular-sized man painted completely green, standing beside an Iron Man who definitely was not the real one (but Clint wouldn't have put it past him to join in, if he hadn't been in Malibu).
"What were they supposed to do?" He asked. "A balloon?"
Natasha shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it, to be honest." She stiffened as the last two occupants of the float came into view, a woman in a red wig and a black catsuit, and a man with a bow and arrow.
"Why am I wearing purple?" Clint asked, a little put out.
"That's what you're focusing on?" Natasha demanded. "How did they get it that close?"
"Relax," Clint said. "There were camera phones around; all they saw was red hair and black outfit. No one got a clear look at your face. I've looked, and SHIELD has looked. Have some people figured out it was the Black Widow that day? Maybe, but it's not a secret you work for the good guys now."
Natasha grimaced. "I suppose."
Clint grinned, running his fingers up and down her upper arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "I think they've done alright. Just … why that outfit?"
"Your Delta suit does have purple in it," Natasha said.
"Yeah, but it's subtle," Clint said. "The nearest shot anyone has of me is a block away; how did they even see it? And that is not subtle, Nat."
"At least it's your favourite colour," Natasha said.
"I suppose." Clint took his focus away from the television as the next float came into view, in favour of kissing her neck.
Natasha let out a little hum of pleasure, tilting her head to let him continue. "Don't want to watch the rest of it?"
"Do you?" Clint asked innocently, flicking his tongue against the sensitive spot below her ear.
Natasha switched off the TV. "Take me to bed."
Clint grinned, lifting her into his arms. "Don't need to tell me twice."