Chapter 17: Twenty-Three Never Seen
Kate wanted to do something for Clint's birthday, January seventh. He would've been twenty-three this year, and Natasha was game to do anything other than sit alone and ruminate over those many lost years. "I'm going to the range to shoot some arrows for him, but I want to do more than that," Kate said.
"What if we had a party like we do for Steve's?" Nat proposed.
"That could be fun. He'd love a birthday party."
"Okay. What should the theme be?"
"Purple."
Natasha knew that was his favorite color. She grabbed a notebook and started scribbling down notes. "Do we want to do full-scale archery? Or play it safe with darts or cornhole."
"Why not both?" Kate said with a grin.
"You're right." She thought of Bucky. "Archery isn't accessible to everyone. And we should get some sort of beeping device to put on the targets so Nick can play."
"Gotcha. But wait, it's January. Won't it be too cold for outdoor activities?"
"That's true. We could just go for darts. I'm sure that would be fine. Besides, you're the only one who knows enough about archery to be trusted with a bow anyway."
"You make a good point. What about food?"
They met eyes and without having to think agreed, "Hot dogs. With mayo." Kate's nose scrunched up in disgust, matching Natasha's. She respected Clint, but his taste in condiments was just nasty.
"I think we should invite his parents. The Langs too."
"Yeah, I agree. Can my mom come too?"
"Of course."
They spent another half an hour running through various ideas for this party. By Christmas, they'd invited all the guests. The Bartons wanted to host it at their house; Natasha and Kate agreed wholeheartedly. "We have a birthday banner that we used to put up every year. It would be nice to bring it out again," Edith told Natasha, her voice strained with grief.
As the new year dawned, Natasha's excitement for the party grew, yet with it came a wave of grief stronger than she'd felt in a long time. Most of the time, she understood why it hit harder than usual in a given moment. She saw something that reminded her of him, or she had an oncology check-in, or her ankles hurt more than usual. This time, she couldn't pinpoint the cause. Maybe it was because this new year was the first that neither Clint nor Steve would see. Or because he'd been gone for over eleven years now, and that meant he'd been dead longer than he'd ever been alive. It was so unfair, for the calendar pages to keep turning as usual when their world had changed completely for the umpteenth time in their lives. Sometimes Natasha just wanted things to stop changing.
The morning of the party, she and Kate got to the Barton's house early. They'd visited periodically since Clint died, but being here still reminded Nat of those last moments she'd spent with him. The sofa where it happened was long gone, though. Edith and Harry couldn't bear to keep it. But there were also happy memories in that house. The walls were covered in photos. Natasha's favorite was the one of the two of them in Budapest.
Bucky arrived mere minutes after they did, even though the scheduled time for guests to arrive wasn't for another three hours. When asked why he showed up so early, he shrugged and said, "I thought you could use help setting up. I've got—well, half of an extra pair of hands."
Natasha saw in his eyes the unspoken second comment, "I still hate being in my house alone and used this as an excuse to leave it."
They didn't really have any extra tasks for Bucky to do until Edith opened the fridge and exclaimed, "I forgot the mayo! That's—that's the most important part!"
Harry immediately rushed to her side. "Hey, it's okay. People forget things at the store all the time. We can go get some before the party. It's no big deal."
"It's just…I haven't bought it in so long. Clint was the only one who ate it."
"It's okay," Natasha assured. "We'll just go get some."
"I can go," Bucky offered.
Natasha quickly assessed the situation. Edith was clearly in distress over the mayo situation, understandably so, and she probably didn't want to lose it in front of them. It would probably be best if they left her alone with her husband for a while to give her time to process this and compose herself.
"Thank you Bucky. Mind if Kate and I tag along?" she asked, already heading for the door. Harry shot her a grateful look and Kate looked mildly confused for a moment before the reason for their group trip finally clicked.
"Not at all." He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "We'll be back in half an hour or so." The three of them paraded out the door.
"Good call, Nat," Kate said.
"Thanks. Shotgun!"
Kate groaned and climbed into the backseat. "On the way back from the store, we're switching."
"We'll see about that." Natasha shot her a crooked grin and slipped into the passenger seat.
"I'll banish you both to the backseat if you argue over it," Bucky warned. "Natasha, you're in charge of giving me directions. I don't know where the nearest grocery store is out here."
"Okay."
They set off. Bucky kept the heat on way too high even for January, and within minutes Natasha was sweating in her seat. She reached over and turned the temperature down a bit.
"Hey. It's gonna get too cold."
"You were trying to boil my poor Russian blood," she countered.
"It's below freezing outside. Can you change it back please?"
She crossed her arms. "No."
Bucky groaned in frustration.
Kate leaned forward far enough to stick her head between their seats. "Why don't you just change it back?" she asked Bucky.
"I'm driving."
"And?"
"I can't just take my hand off the wheel."
Kate failed to disguise a laugh. "Wait, are you for real?"
"What do you mean?"
"You really won't take your hand off the wheel? Not even to adjust the heating?"
"Of course not! In case you haven't noticed, I only have the one."
"No, I know that, but I can't believe you actually hold on the whole time. My mom lets go all the time so she can talk."
"What the fuck? Why would she need to let go to do that?"
"She's Deaf, you idiot," Natasha chided.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize. But she really just lets go of the wheel? Isn't that dangerous?"
Kate just laughed. "Not as dangerous as when she watches me sign in the passenger seat and trusts that I'll warn her if she starts drifting."
"You're kidding."
"Not in the least."
"How many car accidents have you been in?"
"None. Actually, Deaf people are statistically better drivers. Probably because their peripheral vision is better than hearing people."
"Huh. I never knew that. So you're saying I can, what, hold the wheel with my knees while I reach over to fiddle with things on the dashboard?"
"Yeah. I'm surprised you've never tried it before."
"His only past copilots have been his parents and Steve," Natasha remarked. "They're not exactly the kind of people you break the rules in front of."
"Steve would've hated if I did that. Not because it's dangerous, but because it would take away the complete power over the radio and the temperature that he always had whenever I drove."
"Why don't you get a car with that voice activation button?"
"I might when I eventually have to get a new car," he said. Natasha noticed that he mentioned the possibility of a new car with a definite melancholy. This car, he shared with Steve for many years. She could only imagine the multitude of memories contained within this space. When it eventually broke down, she imagined Bucky would too, at least temporarily.
She turned to Kate and signed, "Maybe change the subject."
Kate looked confused for a moment, but then she glanced at Bucky's face in the mirror and immediately understood.
"I'm sure my mom would give you some tips on hands off driving if you asked," she said.
"Okay. But I don't know any sign language, wouldn't one of you have to interpret?"
"Not necessarily. She's Deaf, but she has hearing aids and can get most of what you say as long as she can see your face and you're not mumbling. Also, if there's not too much background noise."
"Okay. So, you grew up learning both English and sign language?"
"Yep." She chuckled wryly. "There's nothing like getting chewed out in ASL for misbehaving at the mall only for some random guy walking by to ask if I needed help because it looked like she was about to hit me."
"Yikes."
"Every time I speak Russian in public people look at me like I'm plotting to plant a bomb somewhere," Natasha said. It was always fun to switch to heavily accented English and then slowly back off until she sounded American. That always threw them for a loop.
"You don't even have to talk for people to suspect you're planting a bomb. You know how to look intimidating without saying a word," Bucky said.
Kate asked, "Is that a compliment?"
"I'll take it as one."
When they got to the store, they found only one jar of mayonnaise on the shelf. The three of them stared at it, dumbfounded, before erupting into laughter. Of all the things for a store to nearly run out of…mayo? The one thing they were here for? It didn't make any sense. At the same time, it made perfect sense.
"Either Clint made sure there was still one left for us, or he tried to get rid of all of them and failed," Kate said.
"I don't know which one is more Clint," Natasha added. They probably looked insane, standing in the condiment aisle laughing their asses off at a single jar of mayonnaise, but none of them cared.
Natasha looked Kate dead in the eyes and asked, "Is mayonnaise an instrument?"
She replied, "No, Patrick, mayonnaise is not an instrument."
Bucky didn't get the reference. He stared at them in utter bewilderment as they cracked up even further. "I'm just gonna…grab this." He picked up the lone jar of mayonnaise and started for checkout.
Kate looked after him, astonished. "Uncultured swine," she muttered. "Doesn't even recognize a classic SpongeBob reference."
Natasha shook her head. "Clint would have his head on a spike."
"I think a SpongeBob marathon is in order at this party."
"Agreed."
~0~
As it turned out, they didn't have time for a SpongeBob marathon. Much like Clint—when he wasn't too sick—the party was nonstop energy. Everyone they invited made it except for Thor, but he FaceTimed in from Australia so he could see the babies. Carol May and Lanyon were the absolute center of attention—much to Carol May's joy and Lanyon's apprehension. At only seven and six months old, their personalities already shone bright. Natasha couldn't get enough. The only people more enthralled than she was were Tony and Wanda, and possibly Cassie Lang.
The only ones hesitant to shower all their love and affection were the Bartons and Bob Lang. Natasha knew exactly what that distance behind their eyes meant. All three of them lost their babies; Carol May and Lanyon were only a reminder of what they used to have. She couldn't imagine the maelstrom of emotions that must be raging through their heads today.
Both babies could sit up now, so they spent the party on a blanket covered in toys and surrounded by cooing adults. Kate barely managed to lure Natasha away long enough for a few rounds of darts. Natasha knew she was going to lose, but she put up a good fight. When it came time to eat, everyone was encouraged to at least try the mayonnaise on their hot dog. Some were more reluctant than others. Victor politely refused, and Natasha saw in his body language that the mere notion made him deeply uncomfortable. Wanda, Parker, and MJ also declined the offer. Everyone else agreed to at least give it a try.
"This isn't bad," Kate said, signing to avoid talking through a mouthful of food.
"Really?"
"Really."
Natasha added a sparing amount of mayo to hers and took a cautious bite. It…certainly would never be her condiment of choice, but it didn't make her actively nauseated. How Clint ever preferred his hots dogs like this, she'd never know. Bruce and Betty agreed with her. Tony and Bucky, however, actually liked the combination.
"Why have I never thought to do this before?" Tony exclaimed. "Clint was right!"
"Clint was right," Bucky agreed.
Natasha smiled, knowing how much he'd love to hear that. Clint…wasn't often right, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. And, God, Natasha missed that enthusiasm so much it ached. Here she was playing darts and eating his favorite foods without him, and none of it felt right. She'd felt the same sense of wrongness at Steve's birthday last July, but not quite this strong. Clint had been gone for eleven years, and that was far too long to go without seeing her best friend. Grief was supposed to get easier with time, but how could that be possible when every day that passed was another day she had to endure the lack of him? Natasha thought this had already gone on too long, but she had decades of the same pain ahead of her. Then again, so did everybody in this room.
"What's wrong?" Kate asked. Natasha appreciated that she didn't make her interrogation obvious to everyone in the room. Only her mom would understand if she happened to look their way. With a quick glance, Natasha learned that Mrs. Bishop was facing the other direction, talking to Bucky, presumably about hands off driving.
"I miss him."
"Me too."
"Most of the time I know what to do to feel better, but today I'm…stuck."
"This party, was it a bad idea?"
"No, I don't think it's the party. I don't know why it's hitting harder today."
"Are you feeling disconnected from him? Like he's getting farther away?"
"Maybe."
"I think you need more reminders of him in your life. Good reminders."
"You think that would help?"
"Yeah."
"You have any ideas?"
"Pictures and stories. Those help me the most."
"You have any good stories?"
Kate's eyes lit up. She grabbed Nat's hand and dragged her through the crowd to find the Bartons and the Langs. "Tell us all the best Clint stories you have," she instructed. Edith's face broke out in a miraculous smile. Natasha spent the rest of the party listening to tales of Clint eating drywall mud, shooting an arrow through a hundred-dollar bottle of wine, and losing his hearing aids everywhere from under the bed to inside cereal boxes. It didn't lessen the pain of this twenty-third birthday that Clint would never see, nor did it shorten those eleven years he'd been gone, but it helped Natasha reach a little further across that gap.