i'll swap you time, for a chance
six.
"Stark, you and your flying robots are fucking crazy," Clint growls from his stool at the kitchen island.
"I knew you'd like them, Hawkguy," Tony beams winningly at him.
Clint ignores him. "I mean, who the hell would program them to wake us up at six-thirty on Christmas morning with Mariah Carey of all people?"
"He's right," Natasha jumps in, clutching her coffee as if her life depends on it. "The music is atrocious and it's far too early."
Tony makes a face. "They delivered presents to your door. What more could you want?"
Clint keeps scowling at him, long after everyone else trickles into the kitchen, with Elvis and Michael closely behind, each brandishing a foot-long candy cane like a weapon.
"Tony," Thor says exuberantly, causing Clint to start scowling in the god's direction. "I quite enjoyed your robots and their surprise this morning."
"Not a problem, big guy," Tony says, shooting a smug smile in the archer's direction. "Glad someone appreciates them."
"And I must say," Thor continues, "thank you all for your kind and generous gifts."
Bruce frowns, "Uh, Thor, I think it was only Steve and Tony who got us stuff."
"Nah, it was just me and Steve that gave everyone everything. Some of you got extra stuff from other people. None of my concern. Except-" Tony breaks off and swivels to point at Maria, "-you. We need to have a chat."
"Later," she says curtly, anticipating his question and dismissing him.
"Hey Tony, why the phones?" Steve asks curiously, slowly thumbing through the device he'd received when it was thrown at him from a baby-sized robot.
"Thought all of you would like the latest Stark phones, each customised, of course. I can't give you fancy sketches, so here's the next best thing," he shrugs. "Cap, I hid an instruction manual in yours, so you'll have to find it. Barton, yours even has Angry Birds on it, though that game is so old I'm not sure anyone else still plays it."
"Hey, flinging birds at pigs will never get old," he defends as Steve looks mildly offended.
"Of course you would say that."
"Just be glad he's not flinging birds at you, Stark," Maria says under her breath as she organises the apps on her shiny new phone, Pepper suddenly looking worried at the half-asleep and mutinous ex-assassin gulping coffee in the kitchen.
"Oh, I'm sure he's had other things flung at him," Natasha says slyly, reaching over to high-five Maria, rather uncharacteristically.
Tony looks indignant. "Really? After all I do for you, after letting you stay in my tower, that's the best you can come up with?"
Natasha shrugs, unapologetic. "You make it too easy sometimes, Stark."
Tony glares at her back before raising his voice again. "Okay everyone, remember – party tonight, dress nicely or I'll sic Elvis and Michael on you in your sleep. Romanoff, they're probably going to come for you anyway."
...
"Flaming shots!"
Barton's cry of excitement resonates around the brightly-lit common room, joining in with the music steadily pumping through the state-of-the-art sound system. They're all seated around the normally pristine coffee tables, now currently laden with empty beer bottles and general Christmas and party detritus. Thor hands Natasha a bottle of the Asgardian equivalent to vodka, and everyone watches as she expertly mixes a line of flaming cocktails.
"Okay, gentlemen, who's first?"
Tony slaps Bruce's back, propelling him forward. "Uh, this probably isn't a good idea," Bruce hesitates. At Stark and Barton's continued cheering, he reluctantly takes the glass, extinguishes the blue flame and tosses it back.
An even louder cheer goes up, and Tony resumes pounding the scientist's back, this time in congratulations. At Natasha's "Next!", Jane steps forward to loud encouragement from Thor and Tony, proceeding to slam the drink back without extinguishing the flame. Pepper looks over at Rhodey, who responds by shrugging resignedly.
"It's okay, Natasha's done this too many times to count," Maria says wryly to Pepper. "No one's going to get burnt and die, though I can't say the same for the furniture."
"I made Tony line the couch with industrial-grade non-flammable material, so hopefully that works."
"And the windows?" Maria dares to ask, smirking with glee bordering on unholy.
"Should be as well, but who knows what the hell these guys will get up to," she sighs, eyeing the younger woman carefully. "Look, I really shouldn't be encouraging my employees to root for property destruction, but given how this is Tony Stark we're talking about…"
Maria's eyes soften, feeling a wave of gratitude towards the redhead for the implicit acceptance. "Thanks."
"Hey, Hill!" Tony bellows, interrupting the moment. "One left!"
She quirks the corner of her mouth disbelievingly. "Seriously?"
"Well, I was planning to leave it for Fury, when he shows up…"
"We've been over this," Maria says impatiently. "Fury's dead."
"Then I guess it's all yours," Tony says, smug. "Even Cap's done one."
She turns to look at Steve, receiving an enthusiastic nod in return. Accepting her turn, she takes the glass in front of Tony, and in one smooth motion, slams back the lit drink without breaking eye contact with him.
"Happy?"
"You have no idea," Tony grins at her proudly while gesturing at everyone for the next round. "No idea."
...
Steve looks around the room, looking for a reprieve in the festivities and exhausted at the sheer amount of energy that Stark seems to have stored up just for these occasions. He spots Tony, Natasha, and Clint playing the drinking version of 'Pin the tail on the donkey' with one of Natasha's knives and a picture of Jasper Sitwell.
"You survived," he says, walking up from behind her.
"I suppose I did," she laughs humourlessly. "Thought I would have killed at least one of you twice over before tonight."
"We're not that bad," he reminds her.
"No. No, you're not," Maria sighs. "You're all insane, but you have your moments."
"Well, if you're looking for sanity, I think you might be in the wrong business."
She gives him a baleful glare. "And don't I know it," she mutters sarcastically.
"But then again, you're awfully good at this business. Don't know why you'd ever want to leave."
"Not sure if that's a compliment, Rogers," she says, a small smile playing at the edge of her mouth. "I don't exactly operate in the black and white."
"And I don't think the world has spun that way for a while," he says softly. "We need people like you. I'm not saying that I'll always agree with your decisions, but after yesterday… Well, you seem to be able to see more than the rest of us, and I trust you."
She regards him carefully, drink heavy in her hand. "You've changed your mind."
"I had to."
"No, you didn't have to. Why did you change your mind?"
He looks at her, seeing her confused and waiting expectantly. Frustrated at her obliviousness, he explodes, "Because you care! Because you care that we're more than assets, even if when you don't have to, even when you probably shouldn't – your words, not mine."
"See, here's the problem," she says, just so goddamn tired. "My first priority is to keep the world safe from all the fucked-up shit that could possibly happen, which definitely involves using your team. And I can't do that if I can't keep whatever the hell this is," she gestures around the room, "separate."
"Okay, one – yes, you can. I've seen your compartmentalising skills, and they're almost as good as Fury's," he holds up a finger, daring her to interrupt. "And more importantly, two – that's what I've been saying; you don't have to. We," and it's his turn to sweep his arm around the room, "could work together much better if you didn't separate us as either your friends or your assets. I mean, you're friends with Nat and Clint, and you still manage to send them out on missions, successfully too. It's not you versus us anymore."
"And that's Nat and Clint," she says flatly. "Two outliers. I can't guarantee that it'll be the same for you."
"They're not that different," he counters. "And I'm willing to take that chance."
Maria stares at him, her face a blank canvas, not moving an inch. She filters out all the sounds in the background, save for the impatient drumming of her heart. "You've got this all figured out, haven't you?"
"Yes."
She considers him for a little bit longer, trying not to read into the excitement and hope in his eyes. "You do know that this could go both ways, right? It could be better, but I could hurt you – including the rest of you – a lot more as well," she warns.
"Worth it," he promises.
"You can't know that."
"Yes, I can," he insists.
(And it's so reminiscent of his speech on the last day of S.H.I.E.L.D. – the utmost belief; of what is right and good and holds a future to be proud of – that she can't turn away, can't ignore it amidst the deeply cynical and lonely, lonely world that she operates in.)
"You're a masochist," she says bluntly, despite the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, threatening to spill.
"No, I don't think that's true," he says, smiling at her. "Trust me, I would know."
She rolls her eyes at him, a little overwhelmed at the elation directed towards her. "So, what's next?"
He glances around the room, and she's surprised to see his smile slowly slip away as he shuffles uneasily. "Well, actually, there's… you have to know I didn't plan this or anything, but…"
"Spit it out, Steve," she says, amused at his awkwardness.
"Right. Okay, well, mistletoe," he says, pointing up.
"Of course." She closes her eyes briefly and exhales, "Have you been talking to Nat recently?"
"Ah."
"Yeah."
He looks at her contritely, ever the perfect gentleman. "Look, you don't have to if you feel uncomfortable…"
She arches a brow at him and he almost winces. "Oh, fuck it," she mutters, decision made, pulling him forward with one hand clenched in his shirt. She rises slightly to meet his mouth, and he wraps one arm around her waist to pull her closer, the other hand plucking her drink out and placing it on the table behind him before reaching up to cradle the back of her head. Closing her eyes, she sighs into the kiss, looping her free arm around his neck to tangle her fingers in his hair…
A tiny gasp behind her causes her to pull away, and she sighs again, dropping her head forward to rest on his shoulder.
"Nat's behind me, isn't she?"
"Yeah," he confirms sheepishly.
"And…?"
"And Pepper."
"Fuck," she says, putting two and two together, before raising her head and locking her eyes with his. "Look, I am nowhere near drunk enough to blame this on the alcohol. Also, I have no idea what Nat's doing, but I need you to know that I have nothing to do with it, okay?"
"Maria," he says gently. "I know that this isn't a game for you. Did you think I wasn't listening for the last ten minutes?"
"Right," she says, the momentary panic subsiding. "Sorry."
"No need to apologise," he says, smile still curving. "But, you should probably go speak to them before they get any other ideas."
"I should just leave them to go screw themselves." She huffs in annoyance and glances at the ostentatious clock on the far wall. "It's two in the morning after Christmas; I shouldn't have to deal with this."
"Well, on the bright side, Tony's trying to wake Clint up," he says, pointing to the billionaire frantically prodding at the passed-out sniper.
"Yeah," she half-grins. "Okay, how about this? We go yell at Nat and Pepper, then head to my apartment for a movie. There's no way I'm getting to sleep with this in the background," she adds, indicating Thor, Jane, and Bruce who seem to have started up karaoke.
She disentangles herself from him, and strides over to their two observers – Pepper grinning widely, and Nat simply smirking.
"Okay, let's make two things clear," she says tersely. "Firstly, whatever this is, it's none of your goddamn business. Secondly, because I know that the two of you are going to ignore the first point, we're going to deal with this tomorrow, or rather, at a more humane hour later this morning. I'm going to trust you," she glares at Pepper, "to keep this from Stark for the moment, okay?"
"Of course," Pepper nods, more seriously.
"And you," Maria says, turning to Nat. "I'm probably going to send you on an operation somewhere in the middle of Australia for meddling in this."
Nat raises her eyebrows. "We'll see."
Maria shakes her head, giving up. "Tomorrow," she repeats, before leaving for the door.
Natasha watches as the captain hurries to catch up, bending down and murmuring something into the lieutenant's ear. Watches as Maria smiles the first real, genuine smile since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell.
(Somehow, Nat doesn't mind as much that she's just lost a hundred dollars.)