A Gift From: bettybackintheday
Title: Mistletoe Mystery
A Gift For: be_compromised
Rating: PG
Warnings/Choose Not To Warn: Language
Summary/Prompt Used: Winter trope
Author's Note: This fic has a straight-up fairytale vibe. Its timeline in the MCU is ambiguous, but figure after Avengers. Fun fact: I started with a vague idea, sat down to write with the radio on and tuned to Christmas music. And then this fic pretty much wrote itself as each song played. You’ll see what I mean. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cheers!

Mistletoe Mystery

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. Since we’ve no place to go… Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

“Barton! Romanoff! Do you copy?”

“Yes, Stark, we copy. We just wrapped up the SHIELD recon and we’re still thousands of miles away in the Arctic Circle. Don’t think we’re going to make it in time for your Christmas Eve soiree,” replied Clint with a grin. This earned him a smile and high five from Natasha in the co-pilot seat.

“Listen you two, Pepper’s the eternal optimist and had JARVIS track your quinjet to see if you’d be back in time. He picked up a monster weather event in your location. It came out of nowhere and you’re on course to fly right into it,” said Tony.

Clint and Natasha turned to look at each other. They detected a hint of what could only be described as concern in Tony’s voice.

“Definitely a little turbulence, but nothing is showing up on any of the ---“ Natasha was cut off as the quinjet suddenly lurched to the right and began to get pelted with ice.

“Nat! Clint! Report!” came the commanding voice of Steve Rogers.

“Ah… gimme a minute,” said a clearly distracted Natasha as she and Clint worked to get the jet under control.

“Hey guys,” stammered Clint, “we’ve lost complete control of the quinjet. It’s like we’re being pulled toward something.”

“I swear to God, Barton, if you say the Deathstar I will ---“

“No, Tony, I’m serious. We’re losing altitude. We have no control and absolute zero visibility. You probably know more than we do. You said JARVIS saw this coming? You tell me what’s happening!”

There was silence on the comms as Strike Team Delta began shutting down systems. Nothing was working and there was no sense in stressing the jet and wasting fuel until they knew what they were dealing with.

“Look, from the intel we have, this is a weather anomaly and not a hostile force,” said Steve. “That’s the good news.”

Again Clint and Natasha exchanged worried glances. “And the bad news?” asked Nat.

Tony answered her. “The bad news is you’re in the arctic, flying blind, about to hit the ice, and this storm, or whatever it is, is effecting our ability to track you. But at least we’re still in communication. So, there’s that, right?”

There was no reply.

“Barton? Natasha?”

Silence

“Widow! Hawkeye! Do you copy?” frantically asked Cap.

Silence


It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go

“Tony! Cap! Can you hear us?” yelled Natasha.

The quinjet continued its rapid but controlled descent to the arctic surface. Controlled, but not by either of the passengers in the jet.

“Tash, we lost ‘em,” reasoned Clint. “I’m going to set the tracking system to emit a constant signal. Should be good for three or four days. More than enough time...,” he trailed off.

Natasha nodded in agreement. “So, bundle up and weapons at the ready, yes?”

This time Clint nodded in agreement. Since piloting the jet was unnecessary, they proceeded to the rear of the craft and broke out the cold weather gear. Going outside would be a last resort, but not knowing what they were about to face, they had to be ready for anything.

As Natasha was removing an extra set of widow’s bites from their charger, the jet hit the earth with a dull thud followed immediately by light tapping on the outside the jet.

“Is… is someone knocking?” stuttered Clint.

Natasha was ready to spring into action, but was also very irritated. “NOT how I wanted to spend this Christmas,” she muttered under her breath as she checked the security screen. “What the actual fuck?”

“What is it?” questioned Clint walking up behind her.

It was snowing, but it was coming down gently as big, fat, fluffy flakes. It was a far cry from the pummeling ice blocks of a few minutes ago. And in the middle of it stood a heavy-set man with a gray beard and wide smile. He was waving at the camera.


You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m tellin’ you why

As they lowered the ramp, Clint’s arrow was knocked and Natasha’s gun was trained on the man as he chuckled at the sight.

“Welcome! I’m glad to see you landed safely,” he bellowed.

“Didn’t have much choice in the matter, did we?” snarled Clint.

“Well, you two have successfully dodged me – and your destiny – for years. If I couldn’t get to you, I had to bring you to me,” he reasoned.

They stole a quick glance at one another. In that split second, they confirmed that neither detected any hint of aggression from the man, nor was anyone else in the general area. Each lowered their weapon and continued down the ramp together.

“Who are you?” Natasha blurted out.

“I go by many names, Natalia. You’d think of me as St Nicolas,” he said easily.

Ignoring her uncharacteristically stunned looked, the man turned to Clint. “And you, Clinton… ah, my poor boy. I hope you no longer consider me ‘the fake fat bastard’ your father was so fond of calling me.”

Clint started to laugh. It was a laugh completely devoid of humor.

“Santa Claus? Santa Claus! I - I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Natasha raised her gun and aimed for the man’s head. “Try again,” she suggested.

The man held up his arms as in surrender. He said simply, “Come with me and you’ll have your answers.”


A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland

They followed the man as the snow continued to fall. Natasha always marveled at the way snow made the world around her sound different. Suddenly, she wondered if Clint could hear that difference. She really hoped he could. She thought he’d find it as comforting as she did.

“Hey, Nat,” whispered Clint while keeping his eyes on the stranger just beyond Natasha.

“Mmmm?” she replied.

“D’ya ever notice how snow has a muffling effect? Like it sucks up half the sounds that’re around and softens what’s left?”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Clint with wide eyes, causing him to stumble into her.

Ahead of them, the man’s smile got bigger as he continued to walk.


Silver bells! Silver bells! It’s Christmas time in the city

Natasha wasn’t sure what was more beautiful – the actual twinkling of the streetlights or the gorgeous Christmas hymns wafting throughout the little town.

She couldn’t help the wonder that seeped into her voice. “It’s so beautiful. Where are we?”

“My home,” answered the man.

Strangely, that seemed to be enough for both SHIELD-agents-turned-Avengers.

At some point during the course of their short trek, Natasha and Clint ended up walking in step with the man instead of behind him. They also noted to themselves how closely they were walking to each other. They often invaded each other’s personal space without worry or consequence, but always with good reason. Was this a good reason?

“Here we are,” suddenly announced the man and breaking them out of their thoughts.

The social hall was at the center of the town. It was small and packed with people wearing fancy clothing and raised glasses in a toast. The music emanating from its doors and windows was festive.

“And where, exactly, is here?” asked Clint.

“Where your Christmas wishes come true, of course,” laughed the man as he spread his arms.

Clint bent down and whispered in Natasha’s ear. “We crash landed in Hallmark Hell.”

She couldn’t help herself. She giggled. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, giggled. She tried to stop, but when she looked up at Clint and saw his hardened expression begin to melt, she broke into a genuine laugh.

Before they knew it, both were gasping for breath and wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.

“Geez, Barton,” she said between heavy breaths, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”

Clint wiped the back of his hands across his eyes. “It’s funny ‘cause it’s true,” he chuckled. “Ah, hey, where did, um, ‘Santa’ go?”


Rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop. Mistletoe hung where you can see and every couple tries to stop.

Annoyed with their lapse in focus, Clint and Natasha took a few minutes to recon the area. There was no sign of the man and no sign of trouble.

“Who are we kidding, Nat? We both know he went into that party,” sighed Clint.

Of course she knew that. So why was she hesitant to head into the event?

“Oh, my dear, how long are you going to keep that young man waiting?” asked an elderly woman as she passed Natasha.

When Natasha looked over at Clint, it was blindingly obvious what the woman was referring to. He was standing directly under a huge sprig of mistletoe.

Before he noticed, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the party and right onto the dance floor.

“Where is he? Did you see him?” asked Clint.

“No… I…,” she said absently as they glided perfectly across the floor, even in their arctic gear.

“Oh, ok. Well, uh, this is… good. Great, actually,” he mumbled.

She looked up and pinned him with her eyes. “What is?”

He pushed her hood down and let her long fiery curls free to frame her face. “Dancing with you,” he whispered.

“Yeah, it is,” she whispered back as she brought her left hand up to stroke the back of his neck.

And just like that, the song ended. Everyone pulled apart and clapped in appreciation for the band. Everyone except Clint and Natasha. They continued swaying together to music only they could hear.

Clint began to lower his head toward Natasha. She raised herself up on tiptoes. “Who needs mistletoe?” Clint murmured.

“Whoa! Holy shit!” exclaimed Tony.

“Tony! Language!” exclaimed Steve.


All I want for Christmas is you

Before their lips could touch, they were startled out of their embrace by the arrival of their teammates.

But where had Steve and Tony actually arrived to? There was no mistletoe, no band, no social hall, no mysterious Christmas character. It was just Natasha and Clint in the hull of the quinjet staring wide-eyed at Iron Man and Captain America staring right back at them.

“Were you guys about to… uh, what do assassins call it anyway?” snarked Tony.

Natasha relaxed her stance and turned back to Clint. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘kiss.’”

“That is definitely the word,” he responded just before wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers.

“Here we were, worried sick about you two for the last 48 hours and here you are, going at it like rabbits in a snow drift,” sighed Tony.

Nat and Clint broke apart. “48 hours?” they exclaimed in unison.

Tony nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I know, right? When it’s good you can really lose track of ti –“

“Would you please shut up,” begged Steve.

“No, you don’t understand,” began Clint. “We’ve only been here a few hours. No way it was two days.”

“It’s true, Clint. We reestablished a connection to the jet and followed the tracking signal you turned on and then –“

“Ha! Cap said ‘turned on’,” laughed Tony and pointed at Steve.

Steve shot daggers at Tony, but continued bringing Nat and Clint up to speed. “And then we had a very difficult time finding the crash site. But,” he paused for dramatic effect, “here we are. We’re so glad to find you safe and sound. So what happened?”

After a few seconds of contemplation, they both answered in unison again, “A Christmas miracle.”

“Ok, I get it. You’re spies. More secrets. But, ya know, you’re welcome for the rescue? Hmmm? Whatever. Pack up what you need. We’ll send a cleanup crew in a few days. You got two minutes,” instructed Tony. “Two minutes and no funny business. I gotta make all this up to Pepper. Chop! Chop! Or you’ll have to answer to her.”

After Steve and Tony left the crashed quinjet, Clint took Natasha’s hand. “What the hell did happen?”

“My Christmas wish came true,” she said and shrugged.

Clint’s face light up with a smile. “Mine, too.”

As Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck, she felt something sticking out of his collar. She pulled it out and held it up between them.

It was a sprig of mistletoe.