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Clint knew he was sugar high and sleep deprived. That didn’t mean he was going to admit it to Nat. Nope. She looked worried, which meant he was probably in a worse state than he thought. “Aww, Nat, no!”
“Don’t you, aww Nat no me, Clinton Francis.” Uh oh. She was wearing her ‘I will knock your ass out’ face. It didn’t quite hide the ‘oh shit, I’m worried’ look in her eyes either.
“But, just one more.”
She stepped closer, counting the tiny little jars. “Twenty-nine! You made twenty-nine jams, marmalades, chutneys, and jellies in three days ! You are done. Go. Sleep. Now.”
Huh. Three days? Okay, maybe she did have a point. He scanned his apartment's kitchen and winced. “Uh, mess. Need to clean. One more will be thirty and that is a nice even number.”
Now she looked more worried than upset. “Go, sleep. Just this once, I’ve got it. I promise to not let you sleep through Christmas morning.”
He rubbed a hand over his face and sputtered. Yeah, he was covered in varied juices, remnants of the jams, and sugar. Wonderful. He’d wondered why Lucky kept sneaking over to lick the leg of his pajamas and now he knew. Eww. This was bad even for him. Nat grabbed the faucet thing that had a cord, waving it his direction threateningly.
He reached out to attempt to cover the neatly lined up jars. “Nat! No ! Jarvis and I spent too long on the pretty labels!”
“Agent Barton, if I may?” Jarvis said in that gentle tone Clint had heard since his little jam, marmalade, chutney, and jelly making endeavor began. “I can also set an alarm. None of the carefully designed labels will be harmed that way.”
“Thank you,” Nat said, putting the faucet back and steering Clint towards his bedroom and bathroom. She reached up and took out his aids after gently nudging him, “Shower.”
Lucky was at his side, guided him along towards the shower and Clint was too tired to feel bad about worrying his best friend and dog. Later, he’d make it up to both of them. It was just that the nearly month long mission, the time of year, and the argument over Steve not allowing Bucky to remember things on his own at dinner had culminated in one massive anxiety attack. Three days ago apparently. Fuck, he’d not had that bad a one in a while. With a groan, Clint stripped and stepped into the shower Jarvis must have started for him.
--**--
Natasha was concerned. While Jarvis had been giving her updates for days now and she’d known better than to try to stop Clint when he spun this far out, she didn’t have to like seeing him this way. Damn it. This time of year was always bad, just not this bad. They both had so few happy memories of what the holiday season was supposed to be about that they usually spent it together somewhere away from all things winter. This year’s plans made by Tony and the long mission had made that impossible.
She couldn’t help but smile as she read the labels on the tiny little jars. I’s-berry naughty (blueberry), Lady (Orange) Marmalade , Not like your Granny Smith used to make , and she laughed aloud at Plum-p and squeeze . She really was going to have to ask him about the Better than sex which was (according to the adorable label) caramel apple coffee jam. “Jarvis?”
“There is a basket on the coffee table, Agent Romanov. All of the smaller jars will fit inside it. Agent Barton moved the larger jars into his spare room to cool out of sight and for storage purposes. There is also a note to go in the basket advising the Sergeant to request, through me, any of the samples he wishes more of.”
She smiled. Damn Clint and his huge heart. Her best friend just couldn’t resist taking a great deal of care with people he deemed worthy. “Okay then. Looks like I have a job ahead of me. Did he eat at least once a day?”
Jarvis sounded far too salty when the AI responded, “Last time I displeased you, you sabotaged my systems and it took Sir two days to fix, so of course he did! I cut him off after four pots of coffee in a twenty four hour period as well.”
Smirking, Natasha picked up a small, empty box that was sitting next to the large basket. It was decorated with cute little snowflakes. “What is this for?”
“The apple jars go in that, Agent. There is a card for the box as well.” She looked around and when she didn’t see it, lifted the basket. Finally finding the card that read: It’s a contest! Which will come out on top? “He does realise he is flirting, I hope.”
Jarvis’ tone was somehow paternal (or what she thought passed as paternal) and exasperated. “No, he does not. I can show you the footage?”
“Yes, after he’s asleep. Right now, all I need to know is which jars are cool enough and which ones I will mess up if I touch.”
Keeping an ear out for the shower or the sound of Clint collapsing from exhaustion, Natasha began filling the basket under Jarvis’ watchful eye. It wasn’t until after she’d rescued Clint from the shower (and dried off Lucky) and then tucked him in that she came across an oddly named jam, even taking into account the other names. “Jarvis, what the hell is this one about? ‘No fruits were harmed in the making of strawberry rhubarb kamikaze jam’?”
“Day two of this endeavor, Agent Barton began humming a song. When he realized that he couldn’t recall the name of the song, his heart rate elevated to a concerning level. I took the liberty of finding the song. It was popular in Queensland, Australia in 1999. Since Agent Barton’s heart rate lowered once he realized he had heard it during a mission, I didn’t think contacting you was necessary.”
She hmmed. “Why didn’t you contact me at the start of all this?”
“Agent Barton awoke from nightmares at 4 am. When I offered to wake you, it made his anxiety worse. He insisted that you be allowed to sleep. I was able to distract him with designing the labels and naming many of the flavors whilst the supplies were delivered. You needed sleep, Agent Romanov.”
“You mother hen us almost as much as Steve does,” she murmured.
Jarvis clearly was going to ignore that. “All of the other gifts Agent Barton ordered are in his spare bedroom. Shall I send a bot for them on the 24th?”
“Yes, please. I take it this is to be a secret then?” She hadn’t missed the tag with Bucky’s name on it, but the givers name was blank. It was just like Clint to go overboard and neither want nor expect credit or even a thank you.
“Indeed. I have the footage loaded.”
She sat back, pulling over the blanket to curl up under. “Go ahead.”
On the tv screen, Clint was moving frantically around the kitchen, five different cooking pots lined up on the counter and three more stacked in the sink. “I’m not doing this halfway, Jarvis!”
“But, Agent -”
“No! Didn’t you hear that shit at dinner? I don’t know fuck all about what celebrating with a family is supposed to be like. All I know is that you are supposed to treat people nice and give them nice things!”
Natasha knew he was referencing the conversation that had started out about pancakes and all the varied syrups available these days and had somehow morphed into favorite foods - specifically jams and jellies each of them preferred to have on toast. Steve, being Steve, had jumped in to ‘remind’ Bucky of his favorites. Bucky had, of fucking course, lost his temper and screamed about how he needed to remember shit on his own. Clint had excused himself from dinner not long after using their long mission as an excuse. She should have checked on him. Damn it. But, she’d been dead on her feet too and had hoped he would sleep for a day or two.
She focused back on the tv and watched as five slices of orange fell to the floor and Lucky darted over to clean them up. Clint didn’t notice, too focused on stirring the pot of whatever flavor (she couldn’t tell exactly what) jam or jelly or marmalade or fucking chutney he was currently working on.
“It isn’t nice the way Steve treats Bucky! He’s a grown ass adult and Steve won’t let him do shit without having fucking Captain America up his ass!”
“Agent-”
“Don’t Agent me in that tone, Jarvis,” Clint grumped. “I am shit at buying gifts and even shittier at being a friend. But, I can share this one nice thing I remember from helping my mom when she was canning things! I know I’m good at it! All the ladies at the circus said so. It was only time of year that I got to escape the beatings and lessons. I even made the circus money when the ladies sold what we wouldn’t need during the leaner months! Just let me do this.”
The screen went black and Natasha wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream or maybe both. “Erase the footage.”
“It is already done. I didn’t object again, Agent Romanov. Right or wrong, it seemed to calm him. I - I don’t have true feelings. But, I can understand in my own way.”
She swiped at the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face. “No. No, you did just fine, Jarvis. He didn’t intend to sound so angry or mean.”
“You need not make excuses to me, Agent Romanov. I too have noticed how the Captain is pushing Sergeant Barnes away with his constant hovering. I believe everyone has. Shall I send bots to clean the kitchen?”
Natasha sighed heavily. “No. I can burn off excess concern and anger doing it. Besides, Clint would have kittens if you let bots in here. You know it would just cause more anxiety.”
“The dishwasher has been running almost constantly the last few days. There were many, many spoons used to taste each flavor. You will have to empty it first.”
She pushed up off the couch and peeked in on Clint. He was sound asleep, Lucky pressed close and she hoped he really, truly slept nightmare free at least for twelve hours. Then she went to the kitchen and began setting it to rights until the last of the jars were cool enough to pack up. She knew Clint well enough to stack, carefully, all of the canning supplies in his spare room for later.
“Next year,” she murmured, more to herself than Jarvis, “I am getting him away even if I have to fake a kidnapping to do it.”
“I will assist.”
She managed a smile at that. “Jarvis?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for watching out for him while I couldn’t.”
“As always it was my pleasure. And yes, as always, it shall remain our secret.”
And that, right there, AI or not, was why Jarvis was her second favorite person in the building. She busied herself with cleaning the kitchen and doing a load of laundry (she was dubious about saving the pajama pants Clint had been wearing but was going to try) before finishing up the gift basket and sending it off with a bot to remain hidden until all the other gifts were placed under the massive tree on the communal floor Christmas Eve night.
--**--
Clint slept for two days and woke feeling better than he had in months. Nat was out in his kitchen making coffee and what smelled like cinnamon apple muffins. He stumbled out after brushing his teeth and gratefully took the cup of coffee from her. Then his eyes widened. It was purple, enormous, and not familiar at all.
“Early gift. Happy Christmas Eve,” she teased, kissing his cheek and sliding over a plate with two giant muffins on it. “When you’re awake enough, read it. I couldn't find one that held a whole pot of coffee, so half a pot had to do.”
“You are the best friend I don’t deserve. Never give up on me.”
She just shook her head. “Never, ever. No matter what.”
He ate his weight in muffins and didn’t even pout when she shooed him off to get ready for the ‘family’ dinner they were to be at in an hour or so. Despite the amount of muffins he ate, Clint was still hungry. Which meant he’d really fucked up. Luckily (or unluckily?), he had a lot of experience in making shit up to Nat. He set his ginormous new mug on the dresser, finally awake enough to read it. He actually giggled. Goest and fucketh thyself was on one side and on the other at least until I’ve had coffee . “I adore you, Nat!”
“Finally read the mug?”
“Yes,” he called, grabbing his favourite purple sweater and tossing it on the bed with his best pair of jeans. He showered and dressed with, shockingly, time to spare. He slipped on his purple Converse because damn it, he was not wearing pinchy dress shoes for this, and grabbed his new favorite mug. Clint grinned at the sight of Nat all dressed up and waiting for him in his living room area. “Exactly who are you hoping to reel in, Nat?”
She crinkled her nose. “Absolutely no one. Unlike you .”
He widened his eyes and put on his ‘I’m innocent’ face. “No idea what you are on about, Nat.”
“Hmm.”
He decided that more coffee was necessary if she was in this sort of mood. “I need to carry down the gifts. Hate to leave my awesome new mug here though.”
“No you don’t. Jarvis sent up a bot and yes, it stayed out by the elevator. Jarvis will have the basket put under the tree after everyone goes to their apartments tonight.” She shot him one of her ‘I know all’ looks. “So … Bucky.”
He could feel the back of his neck heating up. Damn his pale skin and awful blushing habit. It was safer to say nothing. He’d learned that long ago.
“He eye fucks you daily.”
Clint nearly dropped his new mug. He also may have made an undignified, “meep,” sort of noise. As it was, he barely kept himself upright. Damn it. She missed nothing. Ugh.
“ Clint .”
“Aww, Nat, no. Leave it, please.”
“For now.” She bent down and clipped a festive purple and silver bow to Lucky’s collar. “There. Now, are you two escorting me down?”
He topped off his mug and held his arm out. “Of course we are.”
--**--
Dinner the night before hadn’t been horrible. Clint just hoped that today would go well too. He and Lucky made their way to the communal floor after a resounding wake up (thankfully he’d not had his aids in) by way of Mariah Carey’s All I want for Christmas is You. The only reason he knew the song was because Jarvis helpfully displayed the lyric video on all his screens after alerting him it was time to wake up. It also helped to know when it was safe to turn his aids on once the song was over.
Clutching his new mug and still in his pajamas, he stumbled out of the elevator and towards the kitchen. He needed more coffee. Lucky peeled off to go beg for pets from Nat, Thor, Jane, and Bucky who were already gathered around the massive tree and even more massive stack of gifts. Clint left him to it. He was worried that his snarky themed coffee mugs and gift certificates for everyone weren’t enough. This so wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
Nat retrieved him about twenty minutes later, tucking him between herself and Bucky on the couch. He knew her game, but was going to let it pass today.
He sleepily opened each gift, making sure to thank everyone. His favorite gift - he was going to ignore how totally biased he was about it - was from Bucky. It was a purple hoodie that was made of some soft as fuck material with thumb holes that said: ‘Coffee. Sleep. Coffee. Pizza. Coffee. Archery. Coffee. Sleep. Repeat.’ There was even a purple mug to match. Clint loved it, like to an unhealthy level. So much so that he kept the hoodie on his lap, absently petting it while opening the other gifts.
Next to him, Bucky snickered. Clint glanced over from his half opened gift from Thor, Jane, and Darcy to see Bucky looking bemused, holding the box with Clint’s official gift in his hand. “My murder glare on a mug, eh?”
Clint blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Saves you the energy actually glaring so long as whatever you put in the mug is hot?”
Bucky leaned over and whispered, “It’s my favorite gift so far. Thanks.”
“Same, I mean…” Clint all but stuttered, blushing even more damn it all.
“What’s this?” Tony practically crawled under the tree, backing out with the basket of his creations for Bucky in hand. “Wait, are these homemade? Do we have a secret Betty Crocker in our midst?”
Clint was grateful now that he was already bright red. No way of giving himself away.
“Well, Buckaroo, this is for you. No gift giver listed.” Tony stepped over Darcy’s gift pile and handed the basket to Bucky.
Bucky grinned. Like the biggest, brightest grin Clint had ever seen - even in the old wartime pictures. He picked one of the jars up and burst out laughing. “Poppin’ cherries? Okay, whoever you are, thank you a million times over and I’ve not even looked at the rest.”
Steve looked Disapproving. “Buck -”
“No, Steve,” Sam interjected, neatly cutting Steve off. “We talked about this, man.”
The man seemed to gather himself, but still frowned. “That’s innuendo! Even I know that.”
“Yeah, so’s,” Bucky looked down and picked a jar at random, still grinning. “Drag On Queen. Apparently this one is dragonfruit jam. Can’t wait to try it.”
Darcy untangled herself from the ribbons and bows, scooting over. “Ohh, what else is there?”
Clint sat silently, forcing himself not to flee. He’d thought he was being witty, but Steve was already making him feel bad for it. Damn it. Maybe it had been a no good, very bad, horrible idea.
“Boys in the back. That one is boysenberry. Oh my god, whoever you are I bow down to your wit. Blue balls!”
Everyone but Steve was laughing now.
Darcy looked gleeful. “Was that one blueberry?”
Bucky nodded, still laughing too hard to answer. He grabbed a purple jar and Clint winced on the inside. Bucky simply howled with laughter after reading the label, passing it carefully to Darcy.
She read it. Blinked. Read it again and then laughed too hard to explain. It was passed to Nat. Nat just smirked. “Plum-p and squeeze. I think someone likes those thighs of yours, Bucky.”
“Or his ass,” Darcy supplied helpfully. “I’m just saying.”
Bucky blushed as much as Clint was.
Nat leaned over him, setting the jar back in the basket carefully.
“Jarvis!” Tony all but screeched. “Tell me who did this!”
“I cannot, Sir. I will not. There is no record of it in my system.”
“Jarvis, betraying me like this?” Tony had his pouty face on. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“Let whomever it is have their fun,” Jane suggested.
Pepper hauled herself out of the pile of gifts she was practically covered by and grabbed Tony. “Leave it. Someone put a lot of work into the gift.” She snickered. “I’m partial to strawberry jam in case the mystery person needs ideas for birthday gifts.”
“What other flavors are there?” Thor asked, his voice drowning out everyone else's.
Bucky looked down at the basket. “Uh. Loads. Not reading them all off. Steve, get the stick out of your ass. It’s fun and I love it.”
Steve winced, ducking his head. “Sorry, sorry. I’m glad someone else wanted to help you, Buck. Really, I am.”
Nat cut off any further comments. “It's a thoughtful and well thought out gift. Why don’t we all get back to the rest of our gifts?”
Clint was grateful when Nat’s suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement. He slipped away after the buffet style lunch, needing time to decompress. He was sprawled on the couch half asleep when Jarvis flashed the screen to let him know someone was at the door. Confused, Clint rolled off and barely kept from tripping over his own feet. Crap. His aids were on the coffee table. Oh well. He opened the door, totally unprepared for Bucky to be standing there.
Thank you.
For?
You gave yourself away with the blackberry one. Black as my coffee and soul.
Clint winced. That one had been a last minute addition when he was so far into the anxiety that - with hindsight - he could admit that he’d not been thinking straight. Sorry?
Bucky sighed. You gave me my two favorite gifts today, Clint. What do you have to apologize for?
His anxiety shot up. Clint bit the corner of his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts enough to even sign. He was at a loss. He may have deflected Nat’s interrogation, but yeah. It was rather difficult to deny it with the man he’d been mooning over standing right there. All he could do was stand there, blushing furiously and feel dumb.
He couldn’t get a read on Bucky's expression. At least not until the other man smiled. Not his murder glare, but a genuine smile. Natalia got me a huge tin of different flavored popcorn. She suggested I would enjoy watching your favorite Christmas movie with you and share my gift? What do you say?
Awww, Nat was the best. Clint’s smile was probably as hesitant and shaky as he was, but he glanced down to see the tin of popcorn sitting against the wall and took a chance. She says Die Hard isn’t a real Christmas movie.
If you say it is, then it is.
Clint stepped back and motioned Bucky inside. He had a basket of coffees from Nat that would go great with the popcorn. Darting over to grab his aids, Clint turned them on, still anxious as fuck. “She got me new coffees to try. They are from all over the world and all sorts of flavors from chicory to Navajo coffee to espresso and some sort of Peruvian -”
Bucky hesitantly reached out, gently squeezing his hand. “Can we try chicory? I do remember that from before.”
Feeling ridiculously charmed, Clint managed a nod. He didn’t let go through, not even when Lucky joined them in the kitchen, winding between their legs and begging for pets. Maybe just maybe - He tripped and found himself in Bucky’s arms. “Shit. Sorry. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Don’t apologize. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to get my hands on you for weeks now.”
He was grateful Bucky still had a hold of him or else he’d be on the floor. “But, why? I’m a mess. In all the ways.”
“So am I. What do ya say we try being a mess together?”
“Christmas really is the season of miracles?”
Bucky was still laughing as he did one of those fancy dips that Clint had only seen in movies and old pictures. His mouth hovered over Clint’s as he said, “I’m gonna show you how much of a miracle you are, Clint Barton.”
Clint decided to let him. Maybe he would get one nice thing finally.