A Gift From: inkvoices
Title: A Kissing Story
A Gift For: sandy79
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Choose Not To Warn: swearing and one f-word, platonic and romantic kissing, Clint/Natasha with potential Clint/Natasha/Bucky in the future
Summary/Prompt Used: Natasha can handle the Christmas decorations all over the Tower, but not the mistletoe. Clint decides to help – by kissing lots of people. "It's part of the tradition," Clint explains. "After you've kissed someone under mistletoe you're supposed to remove a berry and when they're all gone you can't kiss under it anymore."
Author's Note: Happy Holidays sandy79! This isn’t quite the mistletoe prompt you requested, but I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to frantastisch for beta reading.

A Kissing Story

Natasha is the first to arrive for movie night, even though this latest team bonding activity is Tony's idea.

Which means she's the first to exeperience the full effect of Stark Tower as decorated for Christmas. Or rather Avenger's Tower as people are calling it now, since Tony’s repaired and refurbished the place with a whole floor for each of the team, a hanger for a Quinjet, left the name on the side of the building as just an 'A', and finally persuaded them all to move in.

Natasha forgets the Tower has an army of staff who can do things like turn the common floor into a winter wonderland while the residents are elsewhere - and that Tony allows this kind of invasion of his space, probably only because he trusts JARVIS to monitor everywhere for security even though it's what he's known since childhood.

Her floor is exempt – along with Bruce's and Clint's; from staff, JARVIS, and any other intrusion. She'd insisted on her space being her own. Not that she couldn't have debugged it and scared off the staff, but she wouldn't have stayed here if Tony hadn't agreed. That’s not the kind of person whose roof she wants to live under.

There's a lot to take in as she heads to the TV room. Between the lights, the trees, the glitter, the sparkle… It's a lot.

In the end what grabs and holds her attention is the giant Christmas tree next to the media centre in the TV room. The Avengers tree. The one with little plastic figurines of them all in uniform, and baubles in colours and symbols for each of them. Topped with a glowing glittery 'A', because of course it is. She appreciates the dedication to a theme, but the overall effect is garish and, well. She'd never thought she'd see her hourglass, stolen from her literally bloody Red Room past, on a Christmas tree.

The rest of the decorations are thankfully more tasteful, with holly above the fireplace and soft lighting and, she notices as she turns around, mistletoe over the doorway.

Which Tony is stood under, surveying his kingdom and looking mightily pleased.

"What?" he says when he catches her look and shrugs. "I love Christmas."

It’s only a simple fact about himself that he throws out, but these small pieces of honestly are how they’re trying to rebuild trust between them.

She wants to tell him that the Avengers tree is a nauseating kaleidoscope of bad taste. That having trees, plural, is too much. That everything is too much, including the stupid mistletoe, which she can now see is over every damn doorway in her line of sight. However, she takes a deep breath in through her nose and lets it go. The man flew a nuclear bomb into a rift in space, helped Steve to bring Bucky in from the cold even though the SHIELD data Natasha dumped online showed the Winter Soldier possibly (probably) killed his parents, and he keeps making an effort with Natasha. He keeps trying to be better.

Maybe she can relate.

Maybe, just maybe, she likes his over the top enthusiasm for the things that he likes. See also: turning Stark Tower into Avengers Tower.

The mistletoe though.

Natasha can choose these days who she's physically intimate with. Who can touch her. She decides. No one else. Not a goddamn plant.

She knows it's just a dumb tradition to kiss under the mistletoe, that she doesn't have to, and that no one is going to force her, but just having that… assumption all over where she lives is just...

Tony must catch her glaring at it because he tilts his head back to look, then studies her face for a moment. If the atmosphere wasn't awkward before, it definitely is now.

"I mean, some traditions are outdated though, right?" His eyes slide away from her to fix on the Christmas tree. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "We can get rid of the plant life. Good plan. Actually," he says as he straightens, "Pepper being the only person I want to be kissing these days, definitely outdated. JARVIS, can we lose the - "

"What's the hold up?" Clint asks, walking up behind Tony. A buzz of noise signals that the rest of the team aren’t far behind.

It takes barely a second for him to spot the source of Natasha's discomfort, following her glance upwards to the offending foliage. It takes him barely another second longer to decide what to do about it.

"Aww, Stark, you only had to ask," Clint says with a smile, as he crowds Tony in the doorway and leans in for a kiss.

It's only a brief press of lips against lips, but Clint makes a big, dramatic deal out of it. Puckering up, loud smooching noise, fluttering his eyelashes. A ridiculous cartoon kiss.

Tony jerks back like he's been stung, eyes wide and jaw dropping in surprise.

It takes real effort for Natasha to keep her own facial expression neutral, especially when Clint winks at her, but she does it. In no way, shape, or form does she want to show approval or encouragement of this kind of behaviour when she's agreed to live with these children, saints preserve her. Even if on the inside she's practically cackling because it's one of the funniest things she's ever seen in her life.

Tony Stark: shocked and speechless. Clint Barton: entirely too pleased with himself. Natasha Romanoff: appreciating the hell out of this picture.

There's soft laughter and a little chuckling from the others behind them, but it’s hestitant. Careful. Reminding Natasha all over again that the Avengers know brain-washed-by-Loki Clint and PTSD Clint and reeling-from-SHIELD-is-Hydra-now Clint, but they've never really spent time with Clint. They're not quite sure if this is supposed to be funny.

Thank god for Steve Rogers, who fakes a wide-eyed look of innocence and chimes in with, "Oh, it's equal opportunity kissing these days, isn't it? Gosh."

Steve might still get away with shit like this around other people, but not with the Avengers. Not after Steve dragged Tony with him on the Gender and Sexuality in the Modern Era training course that SHIELD made him attend. Followed by Steve attending Pride with a bunch of Sam's veteran support group and the media not letting it go. Which led to the season of Steve Rogers Declaring War on Fox News and, really, it's perfectly understandable that Sam slugs him in the arm and Tony flips him off. Behind Sam, Bruce shakes his head with a smile and Bucky, who apparently to save time assumes Steve is always being a ‘punk’, just rolls his eyes.

"Wait, is this a toll for movie night?" Sam asks, folding his arms. "Because I was not informed of this. I feel like there was false advertising."

"Team bonding, new kid," Clint says, still grinning at Steve as he reaches up to pluck one of the little white berries from the sprig of mistletoe over his head. He's tall enough that he can reach.

"Hey, no need to destroy it," Tony grumbles. "We're getting rid of it. Bad idea. Consider it gone. JARVIS: make a note."

"It's part of the tradition," Clint tells him. "After you've kissed someone under mistletoe you're supposed to remove a berry and when they're all gone you can't kiss under it anymore."

"Seriously?" Tony says as he sprawls across half of a sofa, already opening a packet of trail mix to nibble.

“Bullshit,” Bucky grumbles. Although Natasha notes that he’s keeping to the back of the group and that might just be because there are three mistletoe berries left, four people who haven’t made it past Clint into the TV room, and Bucky Barnes understandbly hates being forced into anything. “Come on, are we watching this fucking movie or not?”

Clint shrugs. "JARVIS, back me up here."

"Mr Barton is in fact correct," JARVIS confirms.

Tony pulls a face, so Clint tosses the berry at him, nailing him right between the eyes.

"Fine," says Tony, waving one hand in the air. "Whatever. You're picking that up. JARVIS, let’s lose the plants if only to stop Hawkeye being fined for littering. And I would very much like it on the record that the kissing thing? Not my idea. If anyone – or, say, Pepper – asks.”

Actually Natasha thinks Pepper would get a kick out of Tony's surprised face and a framed photo might make a nice Christmas gift, if she can convince JARVIS to send her a still from the security footage. And if Christmas gifts are a thing that they’re doing now that they live together. Bruce has been staying here since Loki and the aliens, but the rest of them only recently moved in after SHIELD crashed and burned, so this whole thing is still rather new.

"Ouch." Clint clasps his hands over his heart. "Rejection."

Steve steps up into the space Tony has left with a wicked glint in his eye; the about-to-jump-without-a-parachute or about-to-troll-Fox-News look that's the reason Natasha decided he might be worth getting to know in the first place, if only for the entertainment value.

"Mind if an old man indulges in a bit of tradition?"

Clint tilts his head up - not that there's much of a height difference between them - with a puckish look of his own.

They meet in a chaste kiss, nothing that would be inappropriate in public or even in front of someone's parents. Except Steve lingers, determined it seems to do a proper job of it, changing the angle and parting his lips slightly, and Clint follows, eyes sliding shut. It goes on for long enough that Steve cups the sides of Clint's face to move Clint where he wants and Clint brings his hands up to hold onto Steve's waist for balance.

If Clint kissing Tony was a cartoon kiss, then this one is the satisfying conclusion to the romantic subplot of a PG rated film. Natasha would happily have it as a poster on her wall. The Clint half anyway; Steve is a lovely person but too perfect looking for her tastes. She likes partners who look like they have a few miles on the clock and history on their shoulders. Who visually remind her she's not the only one who's been through hell, and look like they could go there again with her and survive the journey.

“On your left, Rogers, and getting an eyeful,” Sam jokingly complains.

“Eh, I give it a six out of ten,” says Tony, “but what say our Russian judges?”

Natasha assumes he means her and Bucky, but she’s too busy watching the kiss to spare the attention for a reply and Bucky... seems to be having the same problem. He looks like he wouldn't mind a picture either, from the staring he's doing, and though he manages to drag his eyes away as Clint and Steve part with a smile, it's too late. Natasha has confirmation now, because he also seemed more interested in the Clint side of the equation. The few times she's caught him surreptitiously watching her and Clint she'd suspected that perhaps he'd remembered something of their past together and was… reminiscing, checking Clint was good for her, or something, but apparently it's not just about her. Interesting.

"Good job," Clint says, grinning at the blush staining Steve's cheekbones. "But I gotta ask, was that your first kiss since 1945 or have you been practising?"

"Aww, come on," Steve says, firing a dirty look at Natasha, because obviously she told Clint about their undercover hijinks on the run from SHIELD.

Okay, and also Sam, which is maybe why that's three of them that're laughing while Bucky frowns and Tony complains that they should share the joke. Steve flops down on the sofa next to him and pats him on the knee.

"No," he says consolingly, "because that doesn't end well for me."

"No, no, it was good," Clint says, still laughing as he pulls another berry off the mistletoe, this time throwing it across the room and into the bin. "You're good."

Bruce takes the opportunity while Clint is distracted to slide past him, with a bowl of popcorn clutched in his arms. To Natasha’s surprise he darts in to give Clint a quick peck on the cheek on the way.

"Smooth!" Clint calls after him as he relieves the mistletoe of yet another berry.

Tony holds up his hand for a high five as Bruce walks past him to the recliner in the corner. Bruce ducks his head, but he taps his palm against Tony's and there's a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth.

Sam rolls his eyes.

"This is how Mono spreads around colleges.”

"Nobody’s forcing anybody here, but promise I've got nothing you can catch," Clint says, his tone still playful but with a sharp edge to it that thankfully Sam notices too.

"Right," he says decisively, "if we're doing this I'm warning you now, Barton, I'm gonna be schooling you all in how this is done."

"Bring it, bird boy."

"Only one of us actually has wings, asshole," Sam replies cheerfully as he strides forward.

Steve whistles and Sam flips him off. Then he plants one hand on Clint's hip, cradles the back of Clint's head with the other, and dips him. Clint goes with it, slinging an arm around Sam's neck with a laugh, before their mouths meet in what is definitely a bit more than PG rated action.

"My eyes," Tony complains in a deadpan voice around a mouthful of trail mix. "Leave space for Jesus, kids."

"Can someone pass the popcorn," is Steve's contribution and Natasha can hear rustling as Bruce sends it his way via Tony, but she can't look away from where Clint and Sam are putting on a show.

And it’s clearly a show, with Sam’s hand sliding down to Clint’s ass and Clint raking his nails down the back of Sam’s neck. They’re all movement and moaning, like sparring with parted lips. Although there’s hardly any tongue action going on and she can see Clint is trying not to laugh again, it’s still a damn good show. They could sell tickets and make a killing.

The thing is, it makes Natasha… want.

It’s not jealousy or envy, not really. It’s more a tease, getting to watch Clint in action from a distance without her being too dazed by him to fully appreciate it. It’s also a tease in the way that it isn’t enough. The way that Clint’s putting himself out there - but not his whole self, not his heart. The way that Sam’s not bad at this and could give Steve a few lessons, but she could do so much better.

If she had her hand on the back of Clint’s head, she’d let her fingers play with his hair. She’d kiss the corner of his mouth, again and again and again, the way that makes him seek out her lips with his. She’d light sparks under his skin, steal the words from his mouth and the breath from his lungs.

She’d show him how much she wants.

Sam tilts Clint back upright and lets him go, stepping into the TV room with a sweeping bow.

“And that is how you do it.”

His audience heckles as he claims the beanbag chair and the bowl of popcorn.

Natasha still can’t look away as Clint flashes a grin at her and plucks the last mistletoe berry free, his hair mused, face flushed, and eyes happy.

She wants.

“Hey,” Clint says softly as she takes the few steps forward that closes the gap between them. They’re blocking the doorway so Bucky is still stuck outside, but Natasha decides he can wait and, anyway, he might appreciate the front row seat to what she’s about to do.

She’s the one that instigates it, sliding a hand onto Clint’s hip to draw him in. The other she fists in his shirt.

“Hey,” he say again, light and easy. “This is now a kissing-free mistletoe zone.”

There’s a wealth of meaning in his tone, his eyes, and the hand he reaches up to hold hers over his heart. Clint would be happy for her to kiss him or not, to make what they have finally public in front of their team or not, as long as she’s happy. Although if the others haven’t realised at this point by how close the pair of them are now standing and the way that they’re looking at each other then there’s no hope for them.

Natasha has been fighting to figure out who she is since her SHIELD Agent persona collapsed, its foundations a Hydra lie. But maybe this Natasha Romanoff, Avenger, who lives in a fancy Tower with a pile of superhero frat boys, kisses her boyfriend whenever she feels like it. Whenever she chooses too.

“I know.”

She kisses him, because she wants to. Properly, which doesn’t mean explicitly because this isn’t a game she needs to escalate to win. Properly, meaning with feeling behind it. And maybe a bit of tongue.

It’s a soft kiss, familiar and comfortable and hot as hell. The kind of kiss that’s a conversation, a give and take, between people who’ve learnt to speak the same language. Like a kiss between two favourite characters at the end of a novel after a hundred thousand pages of falling and growing in love, satisfying to the soul and mostly left to the imagination.

After, Clint rests his chin on top of her shoulder with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her, and she could stay here forever. Except they’re still blocking the doorway and at some point they should probably let Bucky in.

Steve is laughing, Tony is saying, "I knew it," and out in the corridor Bucky is watching them both with dark aching eyes.

“See something else you want?” Clint murmurs in her ear, because of course he’s aware of Bucky’s attention and that she’s noticed it too.

Natasha thinks maybe.

These things take time. She’ll let Bucky mull it over, watch them getting comfortable being a couple in front of the others, and think about making a move. He has a mistletoe excuse over every doorway in the Tower after all. That’s a lot of open doors.