Chapter Text
This is a terrible idea.
Inherently, this idea should not have been executed. This is up there with letting her dad cook a pot roast for “Giving Thanks” that gave them all food poisoning for even entertaining the thought. Simultaneously, the Vanity Fair photoshoot where she had been encouraged by one of Val’s people to wear a tank top instead of her normal forest green combat suit. Mysteriously, once the horny pig boys on Twitter had calmed down, that person would never be heard from again.
This seems to be up there with those ideas, however.
And they haven't even gotten out of the limo yet.
“Why did we take the tactical limo again?” Yelena grumbles from her seat. “Don’t you have, like, a sleek one you take politicians in?”
“Took! No more limo business for rich people, conflict of interest.” Alexei sounds drunk. He probably isn’t, that’s just how he always sounds. “When you are big-time superhero, these things… they can get messy with laws, you know.”
"Doesn't answer why we didn’t take the nicer limo,” Ava rebuts, pulling her phone back out to continue distracting herself.
“Yeah, this seat feels… sticky.” John, wearing his full superhero outfit instead of the casual, comfy clothes everyone else opted for, presses his gloved hand into the red leather, eliciting a sound from his seat that doesn’t sound clean. “When did this have time to get in worse shape?”
“When Bucky shot a rocket at us,” Ava snickers.
Bucky, who got shotgun privileges off of being the Winter Soldier - and couldn’t find a bidder to take the seat from him - looks back, indignantly. “I had to give myself cover. Didn’t know if Valentina was still watching.”
“Do you think she has cameras in our bedrooms?” John asks, squinting his eyes in cringed thought.
“I took all of them out when we moved in, do not worry,” Yelena assures everyone, before smirking, “Well, most of them.”
John looks panicked.
What is he doing in there…?
Yelena ignores him - and the horrifying thoughts that come with this question - for the moment.
Instead, she turns her focus to the tall, warm man sitting next to her, a much more pleasant sight and presence than any of her teammates. Bob was the only one smart enough to bring headphones. His eyes are shut, and his posture is slightly tilting towards leaning over on her.
Yelena smiles at her boyfriend.
…Her boyfriend.
God, it's still so new, but she loves it. She loves him. They haven’t yet said those three magic little words to each other, considering their first kiss was only about six weeks ago at this point, but no one has ever had the effect on her that Bob Reynolds has. His existence feels like honey down her throat, soothing and perfect every time, even when the times aren’t so good themselves. He’s there for her to the best of his ability, which is so much more than so many people before him.
Those people that were there for her usually end up in pine boxes or beneath a dirt mound.
She promised herself Bob would be different. He promised her, even when things got rough with his mental health.
And now, they have nearly made it to Christmas. As a couple.
And right now, at this exact second, she’s stealing one of his earbuds so she can listen to his music. Bob has a very strange taste in music - he’ll be blaring death metal while doing the dishes one day, then sitting with a book and listening to children’s cartoon songs.
So, she is pleasantly surprised by one of her favorites: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. An absolute banger of a song, even if it does break her heart just a little bit every single time.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t get much time to enjoy it: Alexei abruptly parks, with zero regard for the lines, and orders everyone out of the limo.
The jolt stirs Bob from his light nap. His curls are always so messy whenever he wakes up, even from the shortest of dozes. Yelena has vowed to herself she’ll never encourage a haircut.
“Good morning,” she says softly. “Are you ready to find the perfect tree?”
Bob nods, yawning and shaking off the sleep. “As long as we actually find it… I’d hate your dad wasting gas if we don’t find the perfect tree.”
“Oh, please, he believes he has way too much money to care for gas anymore,” Yelena shakes her head, incredulous. She doesn’t yet have the heart to tell him “his” bank account is actually a team fund, mainly siphoned from one of Valentina’s more luxurious Swiss banks, that they all dip into.
All of the New Avengers are out of the limo once the couple exit, and are greeted by a sign that reads: “FARMER MCCOLL’S PRIME CHRISTMAS TREES - THE LAST TREE YOU WILL EVER NEED!!! (until Next Christmas!)”
“These things don’t even last a year?” John asks, snorting. “Must be bad trees.”
“How long do you think Christmas trees normally last?” Bucky asks, already sounding irritated - but, then, he kind of always sounds like that.
John shrugs. “Like, more than a year. A fake one would last forever, but no one wanted to do a fake one, so.”
“It already smells bad enough in the tower,” Ava says, making a not-so-vague gesture to the team’s jolliest representative. “We could use some fresh pine scent.”
Yelena can sense an argument coming. As she often does in moments of volatility with this team, she turns to, arguably, the most volatile of them all; he just happens to be the steadiest one, too.
“This is cool,” Bob says, looking over the gate and towards the rows of Christmas trees. “It's… T-There’s so many.”
Yelena smiles. “It is pretty cool… Just one of those things you never think about until you see it.”
Bob takes in a deep breath, smiling at his exhale being visible in a puff of smoke. “I never had a tree after I was five years old.”
Yelena can hear the slight pain in his voice, which he tries so hard to mask whenever he talks about his parents. She doesn’t press him; the one time she had a Christmas tree, it wasn’t real. None of it was. It was real to her, but when she truly got down to it, it wasn’t real at all. The tree itself was the realest thing in that house that day, and it wasn’t even a good fake tree.
But it still meant something to her.
And isn’t that what it’s all about?
“Come on,” she says, gently squeezing the back of his arm through his coat. “Let’s find our first Christmas tree - the first of many.”
That brings a smile to her partner’s lips, giving her the same bubbly warm feeling it always does.
“Team!” Alexei calls out suddenly. “There is problem!”
Yelena turns to look at her dad, who is jimmying with the gate. He may be dumb more times than he is smart, but even he knows how to open a basic latch. Is the farm…?
“Ah, shit,” Ava says, looking at the padlock. “Closed.”
“Who the fuck closes a Christmas tree farm at any point in December?” Bob asks, genuinely stunned. “That’s, like, when business should be… the best. Y-You’d think, anyway.”
John looks at his teammates like he’s the only one with a functioning brain. “Why don’t we just… Y’know… Hop the fence?”
“We’re not going in if no one’s here-” Bucky starts, but by the time his sentence would be finished, Alexei has already tossed himself over. That earns a long groan from the former Winter Soldier.
Ava, who tends to follow the bad ideas more than actual orders, just phases right through the fence. She then extends her hand over the gate towards John, asking, “Are you coming, m’lady? Do you need a hand?”
John rolls his eyes, scoffing, but he still reaches out to grab Ava’s hand if she’s offering.
She phases it at the last second, and when it materializes again, it’s the finger.
“Oh my god, I hate you,” John mutters, reluctantly hopping the fence to join the other two.
Bucky looks towards the three who are currently wandering deeper into the Christmas tree farm, then back to Yelena and Bob.
“You two coming, or…?” He gestures his metal arm towards the three amigos.
Yelena looks at her boyfriend, then back to Bucky.
“Sorry, bestie, but I think we need some… quality time.” She lightly ribs Bob with her elbow, and his giggle is visible in the cold air. “You understand.”
Bucky happens to be the only Thunderbolt that knows about their relationship, so in a way, he really does understand. However, she does feel just a little bit bad about sticking him with the peanut gallery of their troupe - just a little bit. Not a whole lot. Juuuuust a little bit. Like, a pinch’s worth.
He just lightly scoffs, and hops the fence to join everyone else.
“Enjoy your walk,” he says, somehow completely sincerely and sarcastically at the exact same time.
“Thanks, Bucky,” Bob says, giving him a friendly wave off.
After Bucky turns his back to the two, heading deeper into the Christmas tree farm, Yelena tugs Bob down by his scarf to plant a kiss on his nose. “Thank God we get some alone time… feels like it’s been forever.”
“I know,” Bob mutters. “You’ve been gone a lot lately.”
Yelena sighs. “I know. I am sorry. But, I am here now, and I want to spend time with you.”
Bob giggles, his cheeks rosy from the cold outside and from the warmth in his heart. “Can we go on that walk? Like, actually?”
“Of course, baby,” the blonde smiles, grabbing a hold of his hand. “There’s a nice clearing a mile back. We can watch the sunset if the clouds clear away.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah.”
Yelena and Bob hold each other’s hands as they head back to the clearing, following Alexei’s limo’s tracks in the snow to find their way.