twilight, n.
definition: the soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon, caused by the refraction and scattering of the sun's rays from the atmosphere.
rating: K
It was Christmas Eve, and a thick coat of snow blanketed the city, muffling the soft crunch of the occasional last-minute shopper's footfalls. The temperature was in the subzero range somewhere – no one cared the exact number when their appendages were freezing off – but Natasha was sitting alone outside on a fire escape with no extra protection from the harsh conditions, save a hat and coat. She alternately blew on her fingers, rubbed them together, and stuck them beneath her armpits to keep from getting frostbite. She told herself that, being Russian, she could handle the temperature, but there wasn't too much truth in that assertion, as everyone who knew this particular Russian well also knew that she hated the cold. The real reason she was stubbornly refusing to go inside was because she wanted a full view of the sunset.
Clint was deep undercover on a mission in Slovakia. He had been gone for two months and twenty-seven days, and in all that time, Natasha hadn't been in contact with him at all. Fury had forbidden it for Clint's protection, and Natasha understood; in fact, she agreed with him. She realized that the success of Clint's mission was more important than calling to catch up. What she hadn't realized was how much she was going to miss him. Natasha wasn't normally a sentimental person, but she couldn't help noting that, in all the time they'd known each other, this was the first Christmas they'd ever spent apart.
A pang of longing struck her heart, and she pulled up the collar of the coat that was Clint's and breathed in deeply what remained of his scent. The small was faint, but warm: a combination of bow oil, coffee and pine that served to bring her loneliness into sharper focus. Natasha shivered as the wind picked up, drawing the coat closer to herself as if Clint's body heat remained in the woolen fabric.
The coat had been a gift from her. Natasha remembered how he had told her that his inky navy blue hue was his second favorite, right behind purple, and how when he put it on, she couldn't help noticing how it brought out the deep blue of his eyes.
Natasha's thoughts turned to the celebration they would be having the following morning at the Triskelion. It would be small, of course, since most of the agents and employees would be visiting with their families, but Fury would be there, along with Steve, Bruce, Tony and Pepper, and even Thor had promised to drop by. There would be carols, hot chocolate, gift exchanges, and attempted kisses under the mistletoe. She still wasn't sure if she was going – she had tolerated it in the past because Clint had been there.
But her favorite part of Christmas was a tradition that she and Clint shared. The night before Christmas, she and Clint would sit on the sagging, leather couch by the window, sipping hot coffee with the lights off and stargaze. That tradition was why she had decided to sit outside on his fire escape and watch the sunset, with the hopes that somewhere, Clint was doing the same thing.
Natasha closed her eyes and ran the tip of her freezing nose along the rough hem of the coat collar. Her breath puffed out in opaque clouds as she breathed in the frigid silence, leaning her shoulder against the icy railing.
After a while, she opened her eyes again to the sight she'd been awaiting. The stars shone white like snowflakes, scattered in a magnificent map against a deep, inky twilight that reminded her of the blue of Clint's eyes.