Three weeks before Christmas, you stopped dead just inside your door after returning from a work trip outside of town. The place looked like a tinsel factory had thrown up inside a gingerbread house. Hell, the place even smelled like a gingerbread house.

Clint jogged down the steps and paused when he caught sight of you standing in the entryway with a dazed look on your face, "Hey, you okay?"

Your eyes met his, "Did we get robbed by a bunch of Santa's elves but instead of stealing shit they just…exploded everywhere?"

His laughed a little ruefully as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head, "Ah, yeah, the kids and I got a little enthusiastic with the decorating this year. You don't mind, do you?"

Your eyes softened. Even if you had minded, you wouldn't have told him that. You could see the way he was more relaxed than he had been in a couple of weeks. He was trying to not let it show, but the fact was the house arrest was wearing on him. And he wasn't even halfway through the first year.

But right now, as his eyes moved around the place, you saw the small smile and knew that this mattered to him. You walked over to him, patting his arm as you said, "Nah, I don't mind. Just wasn't expecting it. The kids are good, then?"

"Yeah, they are. It was a good weekend. Too short though." Clint followed you as you headed up to your office to dump off your bag. You heard the soft sound he made when you dropped the bag in the middle of the floor and headed to your desk, bending over to boot it up.

Without looking at him, you said, "I don't need your judgment, bird boy."

"I said nothing."

You looked over your shoulder at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, "You thinking it is enough, I'm not a slob."

His hands came up in a gesture of defense, "Hey! I wasn't thinking that."

Your eyes just narrowed at him as he grinned and said, "I just think you're hella messy."

Sticking your tongue out at him, you started shifting papers around on your desk looking for a note that you knew you had made for yourself that related to your last case. You needed it to finish the paperwork. Once it was found, you sat down to type up your report only to realize Clint was still standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

His head tilted, "You know, how can someone as meticulous as you are in your work be this messy?"

"Dog with a bone, Clint. Fuck off."

"I actually wanted to ask you something."

Your fingers paused, and you turned to face him to give him your full attention since his tone said it was all serious, "What's up birdy?"

"Laura suggested she bring the kids up here for Christmas Day and then asked if I wanted to keep them until after the New Year. I said I had to see if that was cool with you."

He was looking extremely uncomfortable and you felt your nose wrinkle in confusion, "Clint, why are you asking me if it is okay for you to have your own kids here?"

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he shrugged, "Well, because it's your place and…"

You held up your hand to stop him, "Clint, you live here too. It's our place. At the very least for the next threeish years. You don't need to check with me if I am okay with your kids staying for any length of time."

"Right. Thanks."

His voice was quiet, like he was embarrassed or something similar, so to break the tension, you turned back to your computer and said, "Now, if you wanna move in some hussy that's a different story."

You smirked when he laughed, pleased to hear the sound.

The sniff from the woman who lived in the condo on the other side of yours broke into your thoughts. Focusing, you caught her sneering at what you had brought home with you from this case. Rolling your eyes, you reached down and scratched the dog behind the ear. You couldn't stand her or her creep of a husband, so if the dog was annoying her that was fine by you.

She sniffed again and this time you glanced at her and with a saccharine tone you asked, "Are you coming down with a cold? Do you need a tissue?" She ignored you completely.

You smirked down at the dog, who was looking back up at you as his tongue lolled out. When the elevator reached your floor, the neighbor cut you off to get off first. You clucked to the dog and readjusted the bag you were carrying as you walked out and headed to your door.

"Clint?" You called out as you opened the door, taking the bag to the kitchen and setting it on the counter. You didn't hear a response and wondered if perhaps he was in his nest. Jogging up the stairs, with the dog following at your heels, you headed in that direction.

On the third floor, you heard the music coming from his room and turned there instead. You knocked on the door as you walked in, stopping dead in your tracks as he came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel that rode low on his hips.

Your eyes traveled down his body. You knew he was fit. Someone out of shape wouldn't be able to pull even a minute fraction of the things he had to do for work. But you never realized just how built he was under the slightly loose clothes he wore. Realizing you had been staring for too long to be appropriate, you jerked your eyes away from his body and back to his face.

The smirk that covered it as he leaned against the bathroom door frame told you he had not missed the fact that you were just ogling him like a piece of cake. Thankfully, he didn't comment on it. He just asked, "What's up?"

Just then, the dog pushed through your legs and bounded over to him. Clint's face lit up, and he crouched down and immediately rubbed the dog as he spoke to him, "Oh, hey boy! Look at you, oh my goodness. Aren't you just the finest boy."

You stared at his hands as he sent the dog into spasms of bliss. The saliva in your mouth dried up as you imagined what those hands could do to you. Clearing your throat, you jerked your eyes back up to his face and saw the expectant look on his face and realized he had said something you didn't catch.

"Huh?" you asked inelegantly.

"You got a dog?" he repeated.

"Uh um, he was part of a case. His owner isn't around anymore and I didn't want him to just go to the pound or something, so I figured I'd bring him here until I can find him a home."

Clint looked back down at the dog, redoubling his efforts of scratching as he said, "Ah, what's his name?"

"Lucky."

BANG!

You jerked up in surprise as the door to your room slammed open and a very excited dog came bounding in to leap into the bed with you. Using one hand to ward off Lucky's attempts to lick your face, you groggily watched Clint stroll into the room, carrying a wrapped box.

"Barton, the fuck are you wearing?"

As he flopped down on the bed next to you and dropped the box in your lap, you eyed his outfit. He was wearing a pair of pajamas that looked like they were covered in manic Santas. Perched on his hair was a fluffy Santa hat that jingled with every movement he made. Reaching out, he scratched Lucky behind the ear as he nodded to the box.

"Open it."

Eyeing the box and then the man you said, "I thought we agreed that getting each other gifts was unnecessary."

His brow lifted in amusement, "Oh, right. I'm sure you totally didn't get me anything."

Clint had you there, but you still felt weird getting gifts from anyone, least of all the man who was stuck living with you 24/7 with no breaks unless you left for work trips. He gave you a look that clearly said, "Well?"

Sighing and rolling your eyes, you tore the paper off the box and opened the lid. Then you just stared at what was inside.

"What the hell is this?"

His grin was cheeky as he said, "It's your outfit for the day."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you declared, "I am not wearing this. You have got to be insane to think…"

You stopped talking because he had leaned towards you a little and gave you the look . Like you'd kicked his puppy or told him Santa wasn't real. Those steady blue eyes of his stared deeply into yours as he said, "Awww, c'mon, you aren't gonna deny a poor unfortunate soul who is stuck in the house all the time this one little bit of Christmas joy are you?"

Scowling, you shoved against him with your foot so that he fell off the side of the bed. He popped up, unapologetic, as he said, "It's tradition. Chop chop cupcake, Laura and the kids will be here in the next hour."

Snorting, you threw the balled up wrapping paper in his direction. It barely cleared your bed. He laughed as he left the room with Lucky. Groaning, you looked back at the contents of the box. Clint had gotten you your own pair of ridiculous Christmas pajamas and a Santa hat. Yours seemed to be covered with elves that had grins that made you think they'd probably eat you in your sleep. With a final eye roll, you got out of bed and dressed.

Maybe it was a little weird for you to have Clint's ex-wife in the place for Christmas, but you would not complain. Your allegiances lay with Clint and always had, but you did like Laura. She might have seriously hurt him when she decided she couldn't take his devotion to doing the right thing, but you couldn't actively hate her.

You were working in the kitchen when you heard the door open and the sounds of Clint's family arriving. From the sounds of it, the doorman had likely brought up whatever the kids had brought with them.

As you slid another tray of cookies into the oven and moved the ones you just removed to the cooling racks, Laura came into the kitchen, "I see he's made you join in the Barton Family Christmas Pajama and hat tradition."

Looking over at her, you noted she was in fact wearing a pair of pajamas that were just as ridiculous as yours and Clint's along with a Santa hat of her own, "He insisted. Used this ridiculous kicked puppy look and everything."

She laughed, "Oh yeah, he's fantastic at getting his way when he wants it."

"And yet you said no when he begged you to make it work."

The words popped out of you before you even realized they were going to and you eyes had darkened some and you scraped your hands through your hair frustratedly, "I'm sorry, that was completely uncalled for and not at all fair to you."

She studied you for a moment and then said, "No, it wasn't fair. But you are also one of Clint's closest friends and the only one he has right now, so I can understand why you'd be mad at me too. I just came in to see if you needed any help."

You shook your head, and she nodded once and left the room. The moment she was gone, you pressed your fingers against your eyes and swore violently.

"What's wrong?"

You looked up to find Clint's oldest, Cooper, standing in the kitchen. Pushing off the counter, you tried to plaster a smile on your face as you said, "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just…burned myself."

His eyes narrowed, and he said, "No, you didn't. But it's fine if you don't want to tell me. I just came in because Dad said to hurry up, it's almost present time."

Kid was perceptive. Which shouldn't have surprised you considering who his father was. You nodded at him and told him you'd be there in a few, just had to take the last batch of cookies out.

A short time later you were sitting down on the couch, Lucky's head in your lap. Clint was sitting on the ground near your feet with his youngest in his lap as wrapping paper flew. Suddenly Cooper and Lila both let out near identical exclamations as they opened the gifts I had gotten them. They were extremely detailed and even came with several tiny replications of the kinds of weapons that Clint favored, including his bow.

"Holy cow! Dad, Mom look at this!"

Clint turned his head to look at me, "Where in the world did you even find these?"

You had found someone who made custom action figures. So, you had commissioned a Hawkeye for each of the Barton kids. Laura was currently examining the one that Lila had brought over and she looked up at you, "These are amazing. I've never seen this kind of thing before"

Shrugging, feeling a little embarrassed, you said, "Clint is as much a superhero as those other guys are. It's only fair that they get to see that."

The two older kids surprised you when they came over and wrapped their arms around you in a tight hug. You froze for a moment before you awkwardly patted them on the back. They dropped back on the floor and each explored the action figures and what they could do.

Clint leaned over and patted his hand on your knee and said, "Seriously, that was pretty awesome of you. But you know what this is going to do right?"

"What's that?"

"Tasha is gonna be super jealous that the kids don't have one of her. Maybe you should give me the name of your guy."