VIII: Yule Ball
Clint doesn't have the words to describe Natasha when she comes down the hall in something black and scarlet and floaty and slinky. "Um. Is that legal wear?"
"I'd think it would be more of a problem if I wasn't wearing it."
His brain fries at the thought of Natasha not wearing—
Her lips close over his for the second time today. It's a new record. And she kisses really well, which makes him wonder who she's been practising with before his thoughts dissolve into the soft warmth of her mouth under his. He's not sure how long the kiss lasts – maybe a day or two, possibly a season or so – but after a while, a deep, drawling voice inquires, "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting you?"
They jerk apart to behold Nick Fury leaning against the wall, arms folded, looking every inch the Head Boy, even in formal dress robes.
"Ah—" Slightly dazed, Clint isn't quite sure what to say. Fury does intimidating like he was born to it.
"You're blocking the passageway," Fury says flatly.
"There's plenty of room—" Clint begins, a little belligerent at being caught and criticised. And they're up against the wall – at least, Natasha is, and he's up against her and Fury's not that lame…
"We're just going." Natasha grabs Clint's hand and drags him off. "He's grumpy about his knee."
"I thought they fixed it all up!"
"It aches a lot. He was going around on crutches until last week, you know. And there's rumours that he couldn't get a date to the Yule Ball."
Clint glances back along the corridor just before Natasha drags him around the corner. "Well, if kissing Sif Sigismund's hand is 'not getting a date', I don't think I want to see what happens when he does get a date. No—" He yanks her back when she turns, intrigued, and uses the opportunity to hook an arm around her waist. "We are not going to spy on Nick Fury."
"Spoilsport," Natasha mutters, but she doesn't try to duck out of his grip.
"I prefer staying unhexed," Clint tells her as they join the flow of late couples in the main corridor. "And so would you…"
Then he trails off in the glittering, sparkling wonder of the decorated hall. Gleaming snowflakes, shining stalactites, and the enchanted ceiling that's the hallmark of the great halls of schools from the Hogwarts model the world over.
There's a small crowd of familiar people over by one of the tables – Phil holding court in the middle of it, with Darcy perched next to him in something orange and frilly as she natters away at Jane Foster. Maria sits silent and mockingly amused on Phil's other side, as Stark and Rogers argue over exactly what Phil wants to drink before Pepper rolls her eyes and drags them both off to the drinks table.
"Thank Merlin," Maria mutters. "I was ready to hex them both."
"Just as well Pepper's got them in hand." Phil tilts an impish smile in Clint's direction. "You two took your time."
"Fury sprung us outside," Natasha says as Clint blushes. She turns to Maria. "Did you know about him and Sif?"
"No! Really?" Maria's eyes light up with a glee that definitely borders on unholy.
"Clint saw—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Clint is not going to end up being the person whose name is attached to the gossip about—"It was just a glimpse and—"
"What is this about Sif and Fury?" Thor interrupts, halting in his conversation with Banner, all height and muscle and protective pride. "Is he harassing her?"
"Thor." Phil tilts his head at the door where Fury and Sif have just walked in, arm in arm and chatting easily. A less likely picture of harassment Clint can't imagine.
Thor looks almost crestfallen. "Oh. I suppose I should—"
"Get me a drink?" Jane interposes brightly. "Oh, I'd love one, Thor, thank you. And I'm sure that Clint and Natasha would love drinks, too."
Neatly routed, Thor accepts the charge laid on him by Jane, and Betty Ross nudges Banner to join him.
"Worthy of a Slytherin," Maria smirks.
"Sharp thinking," Jane counters with a sigh. "After Loki—" She halts, her skin suddenly pink as she looks from Phil to Clint and back to Phil again.
And all the reasons it was a bad idea to come to the Yule Ball come crashing down on Clint again. If it wasn't for Natasha, he'd head out of here and never come back.
"We can't keep tiptoeing around mentioning Loki," Darcy says. "He was a dick, and we have to acknowledge it."
"Darcy!"
"Well, he was. He screwed up Clint's head and he hurt Phil because he had a grudge and he wanted to show he was special. Can anyone say 'issues much'?"
Trust Darcy to make it pithy.
"It's just… It's just awkward," Jane says with an apologetic look in Clint's direction.
"Yeah, and it's gonna be awkward until we get over it!"
"Seems like you already have," Maria remarks dryly. "But it's about what happened to Phil and Clint, and not just Loki's issues. The question is whether they mind."
"Yes," Phil says firmly. "Loki is someone I'd rather not devote one second more to talking about than has already been done. If you don't mind. We can talk about other, more interesting things, like what Tony's done to get lecture from Professor McKay."
Heads turn immediately, necks craning to see whatever crisis Stark has now precipitated. But Phil takes a moment longer to turn his head and his gaze catches Clint's. And Clint knows that Phil doesn't mind the mention of Loki for himself, he minds the mention of Loki for Clint's sake. Because Clint's not okay with it, and Phil somehow knew that and not only let the others know that the topic was off-limits, but redirected the conversation.
And if Clint brings it up with Phil, he knows the other guy will just shrug and say, "That's what I'm here for."
It chokes him up and he looks away because it'd be humiliating to cry in public, even if the only person looking at him is Phil, and tries to stick his hands in his pockets before he realises he doesn't have pockets.
Natasha's hand closes around his and she jerks her head over to where Tony is still arguing with the Arithmancy professor. "Do you think they need a rescue?"
"Do you want to get in the middle of that?"
She thinks about it. Actually thinks about getting between the most argumentative of the students and the most argumentative of the professors. Clint rolls his eyes and tugs her arm around so she's no longer able to watch. "If Stark wants a rescue, he can formulate his own. He's a big boy."
"So he keeps telling everyone," Maria quips as she stretches her legs out lazily, like a cat. "Guess we'll have to ask Pepper tomorrow."
"Maria!" Phil gives her an alarmed look. "You wouldn't."
Betty Ross giggles behind her hands, Maria just smiles.
"We could always ask you about Steve and the Quidditch change rooms," Jane suggests, demure as dumplings, and it's Maria's turn to go pink.
Clint lifts an eyebrow at Natasha who smiles, a little enigmatically. "I'll tell you later," she says as the other guys come back with drinks and food, and the conversation shifts, drifts, settles into topics and themes, some of which Clint can talk about, others of which he knows nothing.
And, sitting between Natasha and Phil, occasionally questioned but quietly included, Clint begins to relax. It's inexplicable, considering he's never wanted the good opinion of any of these people – other than Natasha and Phil and Darcy, and maybe Maria – and yet their approval and inclusion means…well, a lot, if the sense of unwinding inside him is any indication.
So he's relaxed and easy when the Headmistress announces the 'heroes dance'. And then tenses when Natasha grabs his hand and pulls him up.
"What?"
"It's a dance. For us and the others," she mutters. "I forgot to tell you."
"A dance?" Panic grips him. Nobody said anything about a dance.
Stark's already leading Pepper out onto the floor, and Jane and Thor look poised and perfect. But Banner is arguing with Betty, and Maria is looking like she's wishing for a sudden attack of sprained ankles – for her or for Steve.
Natasha rolls her eyes. "We practised in class, remember?"
"That was in class! Not out here—" In front of everyone. Among these other guys who really are heroes, who didn't end up under the Imperious Curse, helping Loki cause trouble and hurt other students.
"Ms. Romanov, Mr. Barton, is there a problem?"
Clint looks at Natasha's carefully neutral face, and stands, his hand closing around hers. "No," he tells the Headmistress. "No problem."
He doesn't belong here, but Natasha does. She kept them all in touch, kept the guys in line when they threatened to get out, and did more than her fair share of hexing and protecting and fighting back against Loki's dark wizards. Clint won't embarrass her in front of the school. He may not be a hero, but he can do that much at least.
The music starts up – an easy waltz, and Clint's instincts take over. He leads, Natasha follows, and they move like they've been practising this every free moment they've had for the last month. His heart lightens in the movement and the music – maybe he doesn't belong in this dance, but he belongs in Natasha's arms at this moment and it feels…it feels…good.
He glances over at their table, to see how Phil's doing, and catches Phil and Darcy sitting with their hands together on the table, not looking at each other, saying nothing, just smiling.
Sudden joy bubbles up in him, lightening his spirits, making him grin down at Natasha.
Natasha grins back, a bright and gorgeous smile.
"No problem?" She asks.
"None at all," he tells her.
It's not entirely true, perhaps – it won't always be perfect as it is now. But it's true enough for this moment and this night.
fin
"Nothing defines humans better than their willingness to do irrational things
in the pursuit of phenomenally unlikely payoffs.
This is the principle behind lotteries, dating, and religion."
~Scott Adams~
NOTES: The New Mexico School Of Magic and the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry are the US equivalent of Hogwarts which replaced the Xavier Institute of Wizard Learning after the War of Wizarding Supremacy. The Xavier institute was originally an offshoot of Hogwarts before being renamed after its American founder (a member of the Xavier wizarding family), which is why they stuck with the four houses. There were proposals to change the school houses to appropriately 'American' names, but they never got off the ground, and so they've stayed as they are.
In case you couldn't tell, Thor, Sif, and Steve are Gryffindors; Clint, Phil, and Darcy are Hufflepuffs; Jane, Bruce, Pepper, and Betty are Ravenclaws, which leaves Natasha, Maria, Loki, and Tony as the Slytherins. Nick is Head Boy (and a Slytherin), and Erik is a Ravenclaw.
There may be a 'How To Get A Date To The Yule Ball' fic to come. We'll see if the characters cough up.