Do They Know It's Christmas?
I was playing COD Modern Warfare earlier, and it gave me the idea to write a Christmas drabble about one of my favourite ships—Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.
I just wish I didn’t have work tomorrow; I’d love to spend the whole day watching the MCU.
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The snow was falling softly, blanketing the abandoned warehouse in a deceptive calm. Clint shifted his weight, adjusting the angle of his bowstring as his breath misted in the frigid air. Beside him, Natasha sat cross-legged, her Glock cradled in her lap, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows outside the broken windows.
“Quiet tonight,” Clint murmured.
“Too quiet,” Natasha replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze flicked to her watch, and then to the sky. A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“What’s funny?” Clint asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said simply.
Clint blinked, then glanced down at his own watch. Midnight was close. “Huh. Forgot what day it was.”
“Easy to do when you’re about to take out an arms dealer,” Natasha replied dryly. She paused, her eyes softening. “But still. Christmas.”
They lapsed into silence, listening to the faint hum of wind through the rafters. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolled, muffled by the storm. For a fleeting moment, they weren’t SHIELD agents on a mission—they were just two friends, hiding away from the world, sharing a rare moment of stillness.
“I’ll take a decent cup of coffee over presents,” Clint muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from Natasha.
“Let’s finish this job first,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Then we can worry about coffee. And maybe pie.”
“Pie sounds good,” Clint agreed, grinning.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from outside, shattering the moment. Both agents tensed, weapons at the ready.
“Showtime,” Natasha whispered.
“Let’s make it quick,” Clint replied. “We’ve got a holiday to get back to.”
And with that, they disappeared into the shadows, ready to finish what they’d started.
