The Seventh Avenger: Memories Never Die// Bucky Barnes

NINE: ASKING FOR A FRIEND

'Have a holly, jolly, Christmas,
It's the best time of the year,
I don't know if there'll be snow,
But have a cup of cheer.'

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate Christmas carols?"

I almost scoff with disbelief at the voice that had spoken over the music floating through the radio on the counter, but refrain from doing so to prevent any eggnog spilling past my lips or from the glass in my hand. Only when I lower the delicious drink away from my mouth, do I bother to reply to the redhead standing on the other side of the counter. "That's impossible," I say. "Only a cold-hearted monster could hate Christmas carols. Or the Grinch."

Natasha Romanoff can't contain a small smirk at this. But that doesn't stop her from trying to conceal it behind the edge of her drink. Before she can say anything on the matter, I teasingly add, "And if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure that I heard a certain someone singing along to jingle bells when I passed by the bathroom before..."

"Must have been Laura."

"Oh no, this was someone else. And you know how I can tell? Because Laura doesn't sound like a dying cat when she sings."

A giggle escapes from the back of my throat at the playful glare that she shoots me, but with too much alcohol pumping through my veins, I can't help but add more fuel to the fire. "Don't deny it, Nat. You love Christmas probably more than anyone else in this house combined." She opens her mouth to argue against this, but I quickly beat her to the chase. "You were more excited then Cooper was about setting up the tree two hours ago. And don't even get me started about the look on your face when you were helping Lila place the presents under the tree."

'Have a holly, jolly Christmas,
And when you walk down the street,
Say hello to the friends you know,
And everyone you meet."

She shakes her head at this, but can't fight the wide, and relaxing smile that spreads across her face at this. The sight of such a joyous expression on her face is a rarity that only a few select people have seen. Most of them are here in the house right now; myself, Clint, Laura and their two children. Our small little family are the only people in the world who get to see Natasha Romanoff so laid back and relaxed. Mostly because she is comfortable enough around us to let her guard down, but also because we considered her a part of our family. A sentiment I know that she both appreciates and shares, but I would have to fight her relentlessly to get her to admit this out loud or supply her with an endless amount of alcohol to get her to confess; much like I am now.

"And you were the one who insisted on me whipping up a batch of eggnog before you came over tonight."

"What can I say? You make pretty decent eggnog."

"Damn straight I do," I declare with a flourish of my hands, before taking a large swig from my drink. An action that quickly elicits a small snort of amusement from Nat. Lowering the now empty glass and wiping the froth from the corners of my mouth, I add, "When I told Ava that I was making some for tonight, she almost cancelled her flight."

"She should've. I haven't seen her in a while, and I'd like to see her."

"As much as I want to see her again as well, I don't think that she could have weaselled her way out of spending the holidays with her family. I mean, that's what you're supposed to do, yeah? Spend Christmas with your family?"

'Oh, ho the mistletoe,
Hung where you can see,
Somebody waits for you,
Kiss her once for me.'