A/N:I'll be trying to update every few days.I'll try to base each chapter around some sort of a holiday.

Slash pairing: Clint Barton/Wade Wilson

Frottage later in the chapter.

Every New Year's was the same. Tony threw parties, invited his investors and colleagues, and lately would 'wow' them with the rest of the Avengers. Most of the Avengers didn't mind the extra attention. Tony practically lived off attention and had spent a good portion of his career at parties like this anyway. Thor was pretty much Asgard's party god, always up for a good time whether it be a feast or fight. Rhodes, when invited or duty permitted, was always present to attempt to gain recognition as War Machine (or whatever he was calling himself these days); Sam was the same, he enjoyed the attention being an Avenger gave him, even if he hated the actual duties that went with the title. Natasha always did as asked, so an invitation to a party was treated as a PR mission. Bruce would smile and try to hide in the quietest corner he could find, inevitably trying and failing at being left alone. Steve would just go along with the flow of the party, keeping an eye out on everyone, especially Bucky who would be looking horribly out of place and uncomfortable. And Clint, well Clint would normally be sipping a drink and mingling, keeping an eye out for his team like he used to at S.H.I.E.L.D.

With Tony's constant improvements to his aids, Clint could get a steady stream of info on the other guests of the party, the AI's voice quietly filtering into his ears, pausing to allow any of the others to cut in with their own remarks. Of course, after the incident with Loki and his scepter, Clint didn't feel comfortable mingling with people, not even feeling completely comfortable when it was just the team. So instead of being the trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he should've been acting like, he acted like the reclusive sniper he was, staying in the rafters keeping an eye on the proceedings from above.

Clint sat in the specially designed 'nest' Tony had constructed for him. Tucked into a far corner of the penthouse's large communal area, it looked out to the bay of windows lining the outer wall of the area. The entire thing was kept in shadow, looking like a ventilation opening rather than an impromptu sniper's nest. The structure was rather small, a spherical perch with a sturdy metal bottom and covered in a dark mesh that provided a small amount of soundproofing. Half the structure was encased in the ceiling, providing minimal cover and an assortment of odd functions Tony had decided to include. Clint had a full arrow locker and a small cache of knives and a handgun in case things got real bad, as well a small fridge for provisions that Jarvis made sure was stocked by a small robot every now and then. The structure itself couldn't be entered from the outside without cutting through the mesh, or from the small hatch in the ceiling that connected to the vents. Dressed in a dark shirt and pants, there was virtually no way any of the guests below could see Clint in the perch.

"You know, you really should come down and relax Barton, I'm sure you could find you can have fun with other people if you tried." Natasha's cool voice cut through Jarvis's helpful comments about the guest list. Clint looked to his right, seeing her by Tony's bar. She looked lovely in a sleek black dress and sensible heels. She caught his eye, sipping her drink before acknowledging a man who was trying to get her attention.

"You'll end up having enough fun for the both of us Nat. You know I'm still not comfortable around other people." Clint settled back in his perch, one knee brought up to his chest and the other tucked under him. He gripped his bow in one hand, looking out over the party below. Tony mingled with a few business and Rhodes, laughing at some joke or other. Thor was impressing a group with mighty feats of…drinking, while Bruce was sitting at the bar looking very uncomfortable. Steve, Bucky and Sam were sitting with a group of men who looked suspiciously like military personnel, all of them looking rather relaxed. He noticed Fury and Hill talking to some people in a corner near the windows as well. As Clint kept watch over his friends, he allowed Jarvis to filter into his aids, letting him listen to what the AI heard, the AI filtering the conversations to let him listen to 'relevant' fragments.

"Is Barton not coming?" "Barton's here, he just doesn't do well in crowds anymore." "I see…" Clint blinked in surprise, he hadn't realized that Bucky would've wanted to see him. The assassin had been remanded into Steve's 'custody' for rehabilitation, living with Steve on a floor of the Tower. Bucky had been talking to the other's more, but Clint hadn't noticed anything from Bucky to show the assassin wanted to be friends, rather than just acquaintances. They both trained in the special training rooms Tony had remodeled in the Tower for his new 'roommates'. Bucky helped Clint work on his hand to hand, Clint helped Bucky learn archery.

"… S.H.E.I.L.D. would be more than happy to look over the reports. Just forward them to Miss Hill and we'll give you our best opinion in regards to the matter." Good old Fury, looking for new connections for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"…So can you really turn into the Hulk? A small guy like you doesn't seem that tough to me." Clint looked over at Bruce, watching as Banner's expression turned more and more uncomfortable as the snobbish businessman sitting next to him kept pestering him about his ability to turn into the Big Guy. "Nat, damage control for Banner."

"On it." Natasha swept over, sitting down next to the businessman and charming him away from his interrogation of Bruce. "Ah the beautiful Black Widow! Truly your abilities are wasted on a team like the Avengers..." Clint watched as Nat's expression stayed carefully neutral, taking the brunt of the man's attention as Bruce slipped away.

"Jarvis, tell Clint I said thanks." Clint smiled as Bruce threw a grateful glance his way. He settled back and let himself drift off, listening to the chatter in the room below him.

An hour passed before Jarvis interrupted Clint's vigil. The party below was still in full swing, Thor letting people try to pick up Mjolnir as the rest of the team looked on. "Master Barton, I'm sorry to interrupt your rest but there's an intruder in your quarters. Would you like to deal with it or shall I alert the others?"

Clint opened his eyes, trying to think of who could want to mess with me. When he couldn't come up with a suspect, he sighed. "No it's alright Jarvis I'll head down and deal with it myself."

"Very good, sir."

Clint reached up and opened the hatch to the vents, hoisting himself up and grabbing his quiver from the area above. He slung his quiver across his back and started crawling his way through the vents.

"How's it looking Barton?" Natasha's voice filtered into his ears.

"Everything looked fine, I'm going to get some shut eye and leave the rest to you Nat. Make me proud." Clint reached one of the many service shafts that Tony had set up for him, grabbing one of the ladder rungs that were set up on each side and climbed out of the penthouse vent. He set his bow in the quiver, and started the climb down to his floor.

"Have a great rest Barton. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. I'll be looking forward to a nice chat in the morning about it." Nat's voice was amused before Clint heard the faint click of a comm switching off.

"The hell does that mean?" Clint grunted as he climbed down the service shaft.

Tony had set up the Tower so each member of the Avengers team had their own personal floor, with a few R&D labs and medical bays scattered throughout. Clint's floor was actually a few below Tony's penthouse, and he had been allowed unrestricted access to the balcony and roof. His own floor had a spacious living area and small kitchen, a guest room (as if he had guests who weren't on the team), a small office and library, and his large airy room.

Clint reached his vent system and moved into the opening. He looked out of the vent openings as he passed, noting that his living room and office were clear even if they were a bit messy with his trick arrows strewn about. He should really get around to labeling those things. As he passed the guest room he noticed the boxes he had moved in for storage seemed to be opened and rummaged in. That just left his bedroom, unless his intruder thought that hiding in one of his closets was a spectacular idea. He looked out of the first vent to his room he found, cursing to himself that he couldn't look out into the whole room from here. Oh well, he'd just have to wing it.

He took his bow and an arrow in hand before opening the vent. He nocked the arrow and dropped down to the floor below, landing on his plush carpet and immediately drawing the bow as he faced the rest of the room.

"Why hello handsome! I bet you're wondering, why the bed?" Deadpool's cheerful voice drifted through the room from his position reclining on Clint's bed. "It's so we don't have to move very far for the fun. I sure hope you got that reference Legolas."

Clint had spent the few days after Christmas and before the party trying his damnedest to forget the whole 'Christmas vent' incident as Natasha had taken to calling it. She had seemed rather happy about it, congratulating him on his attempt to form a relationship outside of work, whatever that meant. The 'presents' Deadpool had left him were just a bunch of homemade Deadpool merchandise, so Nat had no trouble figuring out what had happened. So far she had agreed to keep it from the others, knowing how the team would treat such a serious security breach, but she had been pestering Clint in her own quietly intense way to contact the mercenary. She believed that Clint had somehow gained some sort of feelings for the mercenary (based on the sole fact that he hadn't alerted the rest of the team about Deadpool infiltrating the Tower, let alone the night they shared in the vents), and seemed to want Clint to reach out to the mercenary and form…something with him. "You don't have to marry him Clint, just see if he wants to eat out sometime. Maybe even see about doing a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission together. He does contract work for us sometimes. It'll be good for you, and maybe you'll be a positive influence on him."

The whole thing was rather embarrassing for Clint. He hadn't really thought of men in a sexual way before, let alone Deadpool, but the whole incident opened his eyes to a lot of things he never knew about himself. Like, a leather fetish, getting aroused by (Deadpool's) hands on his neck, how nice Deadpool's voice was… And how nice it was to be able to sleep a night through with someone else sharing the responsibility of keeping watch. Clint shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. He looked over to the red leather clad mercenary lounging on his bed, noting that the trademarks katanas were resting against the wall by Clint's bed, and the mercenary's belt and two rather large handguns were laying on the side table next to Clint's clock.

"I'm not sure I want to get that reference, Wade." Clint relaxed his stance, letting the tension out of his bow and lowering it. He turned his back on the mercenary and moved to the hand carved wardrobe Nat had gotten him a few years back for his old apartment, opening it up and revealing that it had been made into a personal weapons locker. Clint put his quiver into its proper place, unclipped the small combat knife he had strapped to his leg and returned it to its empty space in the wardrobe. His bow was placed in the center, a metaphor for his life it seemed. "What're you doing here Wade?"

Silence answered Clint. He closed the wardrobe and turned around, finding that as he had stripped himself of weapons, Wade had moved from the bed to stand behind him. The mercenary crowded Clint's space, filling his senses with… Wade. There was just no other way to describe it. The slight musk, blood and gunpowder smell that Clint had automatically come to associate with Deadpool after their midnight vent rendezvous filled his nose, the sight of the leather clad form made Clint want to reach out and run his hands over the mercenary. The silence made Clint remember the tenderness that Wade had treated him with before Clint had fallen asleep last time, the concern that Wade had shown him when the mercenary had noticed how Clint was running on fumes.

"Are you alright Wade?" While the silence was a welcome change from the mercenary's normal behavior, Clint knew something had to be wrong for Wade to be this silent. Clint reached up to touch Wade's arm, to make sure the mercenary was still there with Clint. He knew about Wade's 'lapses with reality' as the S.H.I.E.L.D. file so kindly labeled it, how the mercenary heard 'boxes' (like comic narrative boxes supposedly) that led to the file labeling the mercenary as a moderate schizophrenic. Clint honestly hated the way the personnel files influenced how other agents treated you. He usually just looked at the notes made by the agents who had worked with that person, following their advice in regards to the person. In Wade's case, many agents found that simply getting his attention and reminding him of the task at hand worked wonders. Ignoring the 'boxes' comments worked great too.

Wade's hand flew up as Clint reached out, gripping his wrist just shy of being painful. The expressive spandex mask was neutral for once, looking at their hands. "You called me Wade."

"You asked me to last time, remember?" Clint kept his voice neutral, wondering if maybe Wade had forgotten or had a lapse during the time between Christmas and New Year's. He didn't understand how the mercenary really viewed reality, so he realized that maybe Wade thought the vent incident had been a hallucination.

As Clint was reassessing their last interaction, Wade tugged his arm closer, making Clint snap back to the situation at hand. "See the boxes and I thought I had hallucinated that. Was too good to be true. Thought it was a great Christmas gift to myself really." So Wade was so out of touch that he couldn't tell reality from hallucinations? Clint realized that maybe Nat was right, maybe he could help Wade, just probably not in the way she had thought.

"It was most definitely not a hallucination Wade. I'd like to think better of that night than just a simple hallucination. Full on reality warping it was." Clint reached with his other hand to grab Wade's shoulder. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had felt the leather on his skin. Nope, not a hallucination if it got him half hard already just remembering it. Clint felt an arm snake around his waist, a broad hand grabbing his and pulling him flush against a hard chest encased in that damned leather.

"Well that changes matters entirely Legolas. See I came here thinking I was going to have another great hallucination, but if it was reality…well, let's go ahead and pick up where we left off last time." Clint opened his eyes again, taking in the masked face somehow wearing one of the raunchiest expressions Clint had seen.

"Only if you never wear that expression again. With the mask it's just creepy."

"Of course sweetums, your wish is Deadpool's command! Now let's get to ringing in the New Year properly…with sex. Lots and lots of sex." Wade's cheerful voice seemed at odds with the almost desperate grip he had on Clint. The hand gripping Clint's wrist was almost bruising in pressure now, the arm around him not letting Clint move.

Clint moved his hand from Wade's shoulder, moving to the bottom of Wade's mask. He slowly started rolling it up, revealing a defined jaw and chapped lips. Clint stopped at Wade's wounded noise, leaving the mask rolled up over Wade's nose. The revealed skin was scarred and uneven, like it hadn't healed quite at the same pace. Wade's lips were pressed into a tight line, the hand on Clint's wrist pressing tight enough that the bones were starting to protest. "No more Clint. I don't want you to regret this."

"I wouldn't regret this just because of your skin Wade. Give me a bit more credit than that." Clint stroked the fingers of his free hand along Wade's exposed cheek, exploring the uneven texture of the scars.

"You say that now Katniss, but I know you wouldn't be saying that if you saw everything." Despite the teasing tone that Wade used, it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to cover his face back up. Clint didn't understand, on Christmas Wade had been fine showing this much of his face so Clint could maybe read his lips. But now that Clint was able to really explore Wade's features, the mercenary wanted nothing more than to hide again.

Clint gave a soft noise, resolving to help Wade get his confidence about his appearance back. Even if it took forever, he'd get the mercenary to feel comfortable enough with him to take off his mask, to relax and be himself without hiding. "What I see now looks fine to me Wade. We can work our way up to more later. This is more than enough for now." He leaned up and pressed his lips to Wade's in a rather chaste kiss. Wade let out a soft whimper, his hand around Clint's wrist spasming before letting the wrist go. Clint moved his freed hand to frame Wade's face with his other, his thumbs gently stroking Wade's exposed cheeks. He moved his lips slightly against Wade's chapped ones, running his tongue over the seam of Wade's mouth before pulling away to examine Wade's 'expression'.

Before Clint could move too far away, Wade's now free hand moved up to grip the back of Clint's neck, bracing his head as Wade moved in to renew the kiss with vigor. As Wade covered Clint's lips with his, he rolled his hips into Clint's, forcing Clint to give access to his mouth with a gasp. Clint kept stroking Wade's cheeks with his thumbs, grinding back against Wade. The mercenary growled into the kiss, desperation setting in as it turned to biting down Clint's jaw and neck. Clint moaned as Wade attacked his neck, the mercenary growling as he bit down. Clint felt the mercenary's arms move down his back, the broad hands reaching his thighs and gripping, hoisting him up. Clint wrapped his legs around Wade's trim waist, giving a strangled whine at how much better the position was. Wade pressed him against the carved doors of the wardrobe, grinding roughly into Clint, the partially masked head falling to Clint's shoulder as the mercenary groaned at the friction.

"Keep it tight there Clint." Clint tried to focus before feeling the hands leave his thighs, tightening his legs around Wade's waist as he realized what the mercenary meant. The gloved hands gripped the bottom of Clint's shirt, tugging the fabric up Clint's broad chest. A hand moved back down to grab Clint's ass, steadying him. Clint thrust forward against Wade's hard length, raising his back off the wood behind him to let Wade finish tugging the shirt off. Wade threw the shirt to the floor, pushing Clint back against the wood with his free hand as he dipped his head down to lick at Clint's chest. A tongue ran over Clint's collar bone and the plane of his pecs. The chapped lips wrapped around a nipple, a hint of teeth making Clint moan loudly and grind against Wade in desperation.

The mercenary chuckled, moving over to give Clint's other nipple the same treatment. Clint moved a hand to the back of Wade's head, his nails digging in to the spandex. Clint pushed his torso forward, making Wade stumble backwards a little as he lost balance. "Keep going Wade, almost to the bed now." Clint's voice was wrecked, half whining the words out as he tried to direct Wade to fall back on the bed. Finally the mercenary's legs hit the bed and the couple fell on to the soft mess of sheets that Wade had reduced the bed to before Clint arrived. Wade moved his hands up to grip Clint's hips, helping the archer grind their lengths together.

Clint reached a hand down and undid his pants, reaching a hand in to free his cock. He hissed at the feeling of skin on his cock, stroking it a few times and rubbing his thumb across the head, smoothing around the pre-cum that had gathered. Wade had stilled beneath him, watching Clint stroke his own cock. The archer took advantage of Wade's distracted state to reach his free hand down and unzip the leather pants, reaching a few fingers in to touch the length trapped inside before Wade's gloved hands flew up to still Clint's hands, keeping the archer from touching either cock.

Wade sat up on the bed, forcing Clint to move back a bit on his knees. The mercenary shimmied a bit out of his leather pants, moving them down just enough to let his rather impressive cock escape the tight confines of the leather. The length was covered in the same scars as Wade's face, an uneven texture that Clint couldn't find repulsive, instead only thinking of how that might feel pumping in an out of him. The thought alone made Clint moan, reaching a hand out to try to touch the length in front of him.

Wade grabbed his hand before it got far, grabbing Clint's free hand and moving both behind his back. Wade used a hand to grab Clint's ass and squeeze, pushing the archer forward until the lengths were side by side. The mercenary groped at the bedside table, opening a pouch and grabbing something before taking both of Clint's wrists in one broad gloved hand. In his other hand he held a small package, bring it up to his lips to rip it open before dribbling the contents over their cocks. Wade threw the package to the side before gripping both cocks in one gloved hand.

"You honestly keep lube in your belt?" Clint threw his head back and moaned as Wade started stroking both their cocks, the leather sliding over them both with the help of the lube. "Who does that Wade- Oh god—"

Wade licked the archer's neck, mouthing at a bite that was starting to bruise from earlier. "The prepared ones do Clint. I mean really, haven't you been out in the field and really wanted to jack off, but it's just so dry and you know it's just going to chafe? Have to be prepared for everything." Wade kissed his way along Clint's neck and jaw. "And Wade is fine sweetums, don't need to be bringing another guy into all this."

Clint tried to reach up to grab at Wade's face, finding the mercenary's hold on his wrists was like steel. He whimpered and squirmed against the hold, hearing a soft moan come from Wade as he thrust forward in an attempt to get free. Clint rolled his hips forward again and again, hearing a strangled moan come from Wade at the action. The hand stroking at their cocks tightened, picking up the pace. Wade found Clint's lips in a desperate frenzy, biting at the bottom lip before plunging his tongue inside Clint's mouth. As the kiss deepened, the strokes got rougher and off beat, the couple thrusting into the gloved hand's tight grip. The kiss swallowed a strangled moan, neither party caring who it came from.

Wade broke off the kiss to nip his way down to Clint's neck again. "Come on Clint, show me how much you enjoyed this—"

Clint raggedly thrust up against Wade's cock in his grip, throwing his head back and whimpering as he reached the edge, only to draw the whimper into a loud moan of Wade's name as the mercenary bit down harshly on Clint's neck, forcing the archer to tumble over the edge and into orgasm. As Clint's cum splashed over Wade's hand and their stomachs, the mercenary growled again and joined him, his cock throbbing alongside Clint's as they came down from their high. Wade released his neck and moved to lazily kiss Clint, the faint taste of blood not nearly as off putting as Clint should have found it. The archer gave a weak moan into the kiss, slumping forward as Wade released his hands.

They sat together on the bed for a bit, evening out their breathing before Wade rolled him over to lay on the bed. Wade moved to the edge of the bed before standing up and padding quietly over to the bathroom door at the other end of the room. The soft bathroom light turned on before the door was closed, the sound of water running in the sink lulling Clint into a doze. He didn't register Wade returning until he felt a cool cloth cleaning him off, rough hands tugging off his pants and boots, tender touches prodding his neck. Clint felt the bed dip next to him, a warm body climbing in with him.

"…You don't mind if I stay, do you?" Wade's voice was hesitant in the cool darkness of Clint's room.

Clint opened his eyes and saw Wade wearing an old long sleeve shirt of his, a pair of Clint's ratty old gloves covering his hands. The mask was still on, but Wade hadn't made any move to tug it down to cover his mouth again. The small frown on the mercenary's exposed mouth made him look vulnerable, and Clint promised to himself again that he would help Wade learn to be comfortable with himself around Clint. "Of course Wade. No one will bother us here, you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"...You're going to regret saying that one day, just watch." Clint closed his eyes again, giving a soft hum as Wade gathered him up in his powerful arms. "Sleep well Clint. I'll be here when you wake up." Clint gave a pleased grunt as he felt Wade gently take out his aids, before finally falling asleep to silence and Wade.