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Christmas at SHIELD was not for the faint hearted. Only the strong survived the days from December 1st to Christmas Day.
The holiday was widely celebrated but it took on another life at SHIELD. It was treated like a mission, an op that left no enemy hostages or survivors. No one made it through unscathed. Agents who survived suicide missions found themselves questioning their life choices when confronted with Agent De La Paz’s Cookie Exchange Rules. No one wanted a repeat of Fruitcake Cookies incident. R&D was still cataloging the lethal capabilities.
The Secret Santa Exchange was legendary. It was rife with people trying to sneak a glimpse of the assignment sheet or trying spy out who had their name. Fury’s PA kept it all under lock and key. The rumor was that she committed it to memory after burning the paperwork and then spreading the ashes in her cat’s litter box. Senior Agent Phil Coulson was convinced that Specialist Clint Barton had started that rumor. He thought Josie was a sweetheart and did everything he could to enhance her “badass rep” with the junior agents. Coulson knew she didn’t need any help with that department. He had seen her eliminate a Hydra operative with a rubber band.
Even decorating one’s office space was a challenge. The annual “Deck the Doors” had started out very simple, just putting festive decorations around the office doors or cubicles. It had quickly evolved into a sign-up sheet, strict rules and guidelines, and a set denial for R&D to even think of participating. There were still scorch marks on the ceiling from their Heatmiser diorama five years previous. The judging panel was selected secretly each year from the non-participants with Sitwell as the lead. It was a job he took seriously, especially after winning the challenge five years in a row.
Despite the insanity, Coulson looked forward to the holiday every year. He loved the decorations, the camaraderie, gift exchanges, the whole crazy mess of it. Most years he managed to spend the holiday with his parents and family but if he wasn’t able to go, SHIELD was a fair substitute. That worked out well since it looked like he was going to be spending it overseeing an op this year. He sighed as he looked over the files. Nothing like being stuck in a van with Sitwell waiting for a target on Christmas Eve.
The only bright side was the chance to work with Barton again. The reputation he had with the other handlers of being an insubordinate asshole had gotten him assigned to Coulson a few months previously. They’d only been on a handful of assignments but the man was amazing. His marksmanship was unbelievable, there was nothing he couldn’t shoot or hit. Granted the snarky comments and borderline sexual harassment over the comms was a distraction, but the results spoke for themselves. Hawkeye was a phenomenon in more ways than one. Aside from the obvious physical attributes (the shoulders on the man), he was intelligent and funny. His mind was brilliant, tactical and completely open to improvisation. Barton hit all the items on Coulson’s What I Want for Christmas List and what he wanted Santa to leave in his stocking.
The only problem was that the man had no romantic or sexual interest in him whatsoever.
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Christmas Eve found them on a stake out in Boston in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Is it possible for your balls to crawl back into your body? I’m pretty sure mine are somewhere near my lungs.”
“It’s not that cold Barton. Don’t be such a baby. Santa gives coal to whiners.”
“In that case, I’d have something to light to keep warm, Sitwell. You and Coulson, sitting there all comfortable in a warm van. Probably watching A Christmas Story with cocoa and cookies.”
Coulson cut in, “Barton, I realize it’s cold but there’s only 20 minutes left before the next shift. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“That’s good to hear Sir. I am calling this mission a bust anyway.”
He could hear the exasperation and impatience in Barton’s voice, like he had somewhere else to be.
“What’s wrong Barton? Got a hot date?” Sitwell winked at Coulson, daring him to say something. He silently cursed telling Jasper about his burgeoning crush in hopes of some advice. Telling him to man up and hit that ass was not the guidance that he was looking for.
“No. I need to drop…” the rest was lost in a disgruntled mumble. “I need to drop off my Secret Santa gift.”
“Oh my God! You haven’t done the exchange yet??? Josie is going to kill you! You know the deal; all gifts must be given out by midnight on Christmas Eve! Dude, Coulson saw her take out someone with an eraser! She is going to end you!”
Phil sighed, “Josie is not going to hurt him. Any agents on an op or mission on Christmas Eve are granted amnesty till noon on Christmas Day. Besides, I haven’t given you my gift yet Jasper, so calm down.”
“You’re my Secret Santa? Dammit, I was hoping it was Bethany in IT.”
“Sorry, I can keep it if you want.”
Before there was a response, Barton broke in over the comm. “Target spotted, coming in at the left.”
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After that, the target was taken out, the tranq working in seconds. The pick-up team came in and whisked him off for interrogation. Barton returned from his perch and away they went. They were back at headquarters well before midnight. The debriefing with Hill went quickly and then everyone was off for the holiday.
Coulson headed back towards his office with Jasper. “Here you go, don’t spend it all in one place.” As he handed Jasper the wrapped package, Phil saw Barton come up to the office door. When he realized Jasper was there, Barton stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll come back later.”
“It’s fine, I’m heading out. See you both in a few days. Merry Christmas!” Jasper bounced out the door, giving Phil a meaningful glare behind Barton’s back.
Barton hovered at the door, looking…uncomfortable? That was strange. “Everything alright Barton? You look…” Now he was looking scared? What the hell? Before he could ask anything else, Barton pulled himself together and walked through the door, ducking under the hanging garland.
“So, I wanted to say thanks, um, you know for keeping me on missions. And um, not being an asshole, uh, no, not that, well that but not that? Fuck.” He was clearly fidgeting and looking like he was going to bolt, probably to the vents if his eyes were any indication.
“Barton, breathe. Start over.” Coulson slipped easily back into command mode, hoping that would center the archer. He stood in front of him, waiting for him to continue. Barton looked at him; his eyes filled with fear, nervousness and something else Coulson couldn’t place. As he stood there, something shoved at his chest. Looking down, he saw a small package in Barton’s hand. It was wrapped in glittery purple paper, patterned with bells and snowflakes. He grasped it, and simply gaped at Barton.
“I’m your Secret Santa. Merry Christmas.” He barely heard the mumble over the roaring in his ears, a roaring that sounded suspiciously like Jasper ho-ho-hoing. He was still staring at Barton, probably looking like a gasping fish he realized. Crap.
“Okay, so Merry Christmas. I guess I’ll be going.” He was backing up towards the door, getting ready to run out. No, no, no! Stay, come back! Wait, that was out loud.
Coulson swallowed heavily, “Stay. At least let me see what you gave me.” Barton smiled shyly, standing in the doorway. Coulson crossed over to where he was, both of them under the garlands.
“It’s not that great. I hear you saying something about Captain America cards and I remembered an old friend of mine. From the circus, the Bearded Lady actually. I still talk to her and got her to give me this for you. I was always looking at it when I was a kid. Her dad or somebody found it some old boxes. She never knew what to do with it but didn’t want to throw it out either. She’s a bit of a collector, runs a thrift shop in Palm Beach. But anyway, so, there you go.”
Coulson was opening the gift as Barton talked. Inside the small white box was a trading card, the kind you used to get in cigarette cartons when smoking was the thing to do. The image on the card was Captain America standing next to Santa Claus, handing out presents to a pair of children. The caption read “Happy Holidays to all!” in shiny silver. It was a little larger than a baseball card, the edges gently worn but no other damage. There was no foxing or discoloration, the colors still bright and vibrant. It was in excellent condition, not mint but still amazing. He felt himself holding his breath, his hands trembling ever so slightly. This couldn’t be his gift. There was no way Barton was giving him one of the Holy Grails as part of a Secret Santa exchange. These things just do not happen to him.
“It’s amazing. I can’t believe you found one of these but I can’t take it.” Barton’s face fell and then shuttered shut. “Of course not, sorry about that. I’ll just hold onto it or something. Should have known you wouldn’t want it.” He reached for the box and Coulson sensed that if he grabbed it, this would end horribly. He moved the box away from the archer’s reach. Barton looked up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, as though he expected Coulson to pull some sort of trick. He had to let him know the gift wasn’t the problem but the value of it.
“I want it, oh trust me on that, but I can’t take it. Do you know how much this is worth? Your friend could sell it for thousands! She could live comfortably for years on it. You can’t just waste it on me.”
Gobsmacked couldn’t explain Barton’s expression. “Waste it? What do you mean waste it? You know what it is, you like it, and you obviously appreciate it! Lorna knows how much it’s worth, trust me. She sold the others for a shit ton of cash. This one she was holding onto since it was my favorite. I asked her for it as a gift for you. If you don’t want it, tell me straight. Don’t argue that it’s worth too much or whatever other bullshit you want to say. If you don’t want a gift from me, admit it and we’ll pretend this never happened. Wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t want me, won’t be the last.”
“What? I want the gift! I want you too!”
They both stopped, looking at each other, actually seeing each other.
Barton took a slow breath, “You want me too?”
Coulson nodded slowly, “Always. From when I first saw you.”
Barton, no, Clint smiled. God, he was gorgeous. Coulson moved closer, drawn to his eyes and the love he saw shining there. “Look up.” Those beautiful eyes glanced up, spotting the mistletoe sprig hidden in the garland. Clint quirked an eyebrow at him, Seriously?
Coulson’s grin was all the answer he needed.