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It was the night before Thanksgiving, and all through Avenger's Tower, well, everyone was stirring. It was the first year they'd all been together for the holidays, after they'd all moved in. After SHIELD fell.
By three in the morning, they'd gathered around the kitchen table in various stages of undress and upset; hair was mussed, bathrobes halfway on, and proper undergarments not happening. Most of them hadn't had stable families or childhoods, and the holidays brought that all crashing down on them. Those few who did have normal childhoods had lost them, and it all crashed around them.
Except for Sam. Bruce and Tony called Sam their “control group”. Sam split his time between shaking his head at the lot of them, and attempting to councel them per his expensive and now unused education. One was about as successful as the other.
Natasha was the last one into the kitchen, wearing a heavy silk and lace robe in dark red and black, over a pair of men's boxers (printed with Cap's shield) and an Army Rangers tee shirt. She rustled and crashed around for a few moments determinedly, then came to the table and slapped down a samovar and a bottle of vodka. The crack of the bottle on the table sounded like a rifle shot.
Coulson slowly straightened from where he was hunched over the table, and poured a small measure of brown liquid into one of the glasses Natasha was slinging across the table as if she were dealing cards. He took a cautious sniff. “No. Absolutely not. I forbid it.”
Clint leaned over Phil's shoulder, took his own sniff, and began grinning crazily. “Oh FUCK yes.”
Natasha glared at both of them and said “Da.” and began serving drinks.
“No.” Phil tried again.
“Da!” Clint and Natasha chorused together.
Tony, sniffing cautiously at his own drink, asked, “Is this... pumpkin spice chai? With vodka?”
“Yep!” Clint said cheerfully, taking a large swig.
“The drink of Satan.” Phil muttered, but took a small sip of his.
Everyone glanced around the table at each other, sipping cautiously. Natasha had been generous with the vodka.
“C'mon, Phil, you don't even know...” Clint began.
“The hell I don't.” Phil scoffed. “Who do you think covered up the mess?”
Clint and Natasha shared a glance, then both looked back at Phil.
“How could anyone know? We were-” Natasha began.
“You were dressed up as Santa Claus and the Gingerbread Man. THE GINGERBREAD MAN WAS SHOOTING FLAMING ARROWS. Every intelligence agency from DC to Pyongyang knew exactly who'd done it, 'those two crazy motherfuckers from SHIELD'.” He added more vodka to his glass and pointed at them both like a headmaster. “It was featured on Sweden's Most Wanted, for fuck's sake. Stealth, my ass. The both of you are like bulls in a china shop.” To hell with professionalism during three am confessions, he thought.
Clint and Nat seemed to ponder this for a moment, while everyone else glanced at each other.
Tony was the one who finally caved in and asked. Because Tony was always the one who caved in and asked. “Uh? I'm sorry, the flaming arrows we might be able to let slide, but the costumes? We need to hear this.”
Everyone else nodded. With enough laughter, some of them might even get some sleep later on.
“You tell.” Clint said.
“Nyet. You.”
“Nyet- I mean no-”
Phil, speaking over both of them, began. “In Sweden, there's a town called Gavle, who puts up a goat made out of straw, every year, for Yule.”
Bucky suddenly sat up straight, knocking Steve's head from his shoulder. “Natalia! That was ours!”
Natasha shrugged. “Я был пьян , и я скучал по тебе.»
Bucky muttered further, but was shushed by the rest of the table. Everyone else was leaning forward in their seats, except for Sam, who always looked at everyone as if they were a particularly interesting case study, when the stories started.
“These two idiots” Phil gestured with his tea glass, “were supposed to be in Russia, looking into that mess in Nalchik. Instead, they go dark for forty-eight hours, drinking Russian tea and vodka the entire time-”
“Hey, no, I was drinking tea and rum, I'm not a barbarian.” Clint interrupted. Natasha dope-slapped him.
Phil carried on as if they weren't even there. “Next thing I know, the Europe Desk has tagged video for me to look at, and there are my two missing assets, BURNING DOWN A YULE GOAT.” Phil tossed back the last of his tea and refilled the glass with straight vodka.
Tony started giggling. “That was you guys?”
“Da.” Natasha nodded, and saluted him with her glass.
“Gotta admit, they did it with much more style than you did.” Pepper told Tony.
“You did?” Phil asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Well, in my defense, I was drunk, too.” Tony admitted.
“Fortunately, it was before the Iron Man armor, so I didn't have to step in and explain why a Yule decoration had been repulsored to death.” Pepper mused. “In fact, I just pretended I didn't know anything about it. Easily one of his smallest disasters.”
“Hey!” Tony protested. “I didn't even set the fire, it was one of the hookers!”
“What year?” Bruce asked, looking... odd.
Tony thought for a while, counted on his fingers, squinted. Had some more vodka. Squinted some more. “Um. JARVIS?”
“Christmas eve, two thousand and seven, sir.” JARVIS provided smoothly.
Bruce choked into his tea.
“Yeeeees?” Tony demanded.
“I may have been the one who knocked the goat over, a week or two before that.” Bruce tried not to grin. “Or, actually, the Hulk knocked it over. Something about stinking goats?”
Tony began laughing helplessly and held his fist out. Bruce bumped it.
“I do not understand.” Thor said quietly. He liked to be the one to ask questions both for himself and his Captain, and Steve was looking a bit confused. No one found it odd when the space alien asked. Steve, on the other hand, often got odd looks, even from his teammates. “Is this some Yule tradition I am not aware of? I thought I'd been aware of the Norse events.”
“You most likely are aware of the background, Prince Odinson.” JARVIS agreed. “However, this is very strictly a... local custom. Beginning in nineteen sixty nine, the Swedish town of Gavle has built one or two straw goats to celebrate the Yule season. I am given to understand many towns do similar things.”
Thor nodded. “Yes. Of this I am aware.”
JARVIS continued. “However, for some reason, in the town of Gavle, it has become tradition to burn it down. Perhaps a holdover from pagan bonfires, but just as likely bored arsonists. Or, it seems, drunken Avengers.”
“I wasn't drunk.” Bruce protested. “Okay, well, I mean, the Hulk wasn't drunk.”
Tony patted his arm. “Sure, honey. You keep telling people that.”
“How many of us have done this thing?” Thor asked, looking around the table.
Bucky grinned. “Natalia and I accounted for the beginning of the tradition. We were there in sixty-nine to... do a job, and the goat sort of got in the way.” He grinned at Natasha. “After that, well, if we were active, the right time of year, we'd get back into Russia via Scandinavia and stop off to torch the goat on our way through.”
“More than once.” Phil said hollowly.
“Da.” Bucky grinned at Nat. “What was it, five times?”
She grinned back. “Six. Last was in eighty-seven. We also drove that car through it in seventy-six.”
Clint went and got a fresh bottle of vodka for Phil, laughing the entire way.
“I really need to start getting up at night with you guys. Forget sleep, this is better than Tony's glory years.” Pepper told them, pouring tea and vodka for everyone.
There was a long moment of silence, while everyone pondered straw goats and arson.
Sam cleared his throat. “You gonna tell them, or am I?” he asked.
Steve looked guilty.
“NO!” Tony shouted.
“Yeah.” Bucky grinned, laughing into his tea. “Last year, Sam and Steve were still chasing me around Europe and I was still recovering my memories. Some of those memories involved this weird straw goat, and a beautiful redhead, and lighter fluid.” He bumped his shoulder against Natasha, again dislodging Steve's head from his other shoulder. “Some Googling and I realized it was probably a real memory, so I headed over to see if it would trigger anything.”
“This asshole tried to set it on fire. Three times.” Sam told them.
“And these assholes put it out every time.” Bucky said with a shake of his head. “After that, I figured if they were such do-gooders they'd save a fucking Christmas decoration, I might as well just let 'em find me. So I did.”
“The Gavle goat saves the day.” Clint said, a hint of awe in his voice.
“So!” Tony said brightly. “Who has plans for this year? What are we doing next week? I'm thinking this year should have marshmallows.”
“Hell yeah.” Bucky toasted with his glass.
“Oooooh, no, you are absolutely not!” Steve announced. He'd still to learn the lesson about never telling the Avengers what they couldn't do.
Phil sighed into his tea and wondered if it was worth the bother of trying to disable the quinjet.