Philip, Clint and Natasha - backdates to Dec 24

[om_agent]

Summary: Philip brings two strays home for the holidays this time. It’s a great idea. Honest.



The road trip to Eagle's Nest was a hell of a lot different this year than the last. For one thing, Clint knew exactly what he was walking into, and he was kind of looking forward to it. You know, aside from the whole, hoping the grandparents wouldn't completely rub it in his and Coulson's faces that they were fooling around together. On the other hand, things were a little awkward with Tasha not knowing what they were walking into, and no matter how much intel he'd tried to give her ahead of time, there really was no preparing for Coulson's family.

So Clint had taken the backseat with Lucky, and let Natasha take shotgun - hoping that letting her have a good vantage point and easy exit would ease the tension a little. It didn't seem to, but that could have just been her. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

Needless to say, it'd been a long drive.

But they were coming up on the house soon, and he'd moved to the middle of the seat, hooking his arms over both of the seats in front of him as he draped himself in between them. "So hey. We should go ice-skating. Does that lake support ice skates? I want to see Lucky slide across the ice on his butt."

"I'm not sure it's been cold enough," Philip replied as he took another turnoff. It's not the same as the midwest, you don't tend to get ice in feet. We could check though if you want to?" His grandparents knew they were coming, of course, and he'd let them know upfront that they only needed two rooms. The decided lack of questions that he'd gotten about that had him nervous.

Natasha just shrugged, as though unconcerned. She was deeply uncomfortable, though she trusted Clint and, to a lesser extent, Coulson. The Nest. Even the name put her on edge.

"Nah, I don't want anyone falling in or something," Clint conceded, starting to feel the awkward creep back into the car. Actually, he wasn't sure it'd ever left.

"You know, I had almost the same conversations last year," Philip said mildly. "Clint was freaking out over meeting them, it's really fine. If nothing else, my grandparents are a lot more personable than my mom is and you both managed to deal with her."

Natasha gave Coulson a look. "Do I look like I am freaking out to you?"

"Yep," Clint told her bluntly. "I mean, you still look like a fucking badass, but you might as well be vibrating all over that seat." Even if she wasn't. Because she was Natasha.

"You're with us, in this car, going out to the middle of nowhere in Connecticut, where all you really know is that we're having Christmas with my family," Philip pointed out. "And seeing as the only one of them you've met is my mom, who will not be there, I think it's entirely reasonable that you'd be wary."

"Thank you both so much," she said, voice lacking any inflection. Natasha disliked how well they seemed to know her, at least at this particular moment. Why had she agreed to do this again?

"Welcome," Clint told her brightly, grinning. "So are you going to help me build a snowman or what, because Coulson kind of sucks at it."

"Jackass," Philip said easily. "It wasn't my fault that your dog kept stealing limbs."

Natasha gave Coulson an appraising once over. "You can't be great at everything. It's okay if you suck at snowmen, Philip."

Clint abruptly dissolved into snorts of laughter, disappearing below the seats as he ducked his head.

"You're both brats," Philip said with a shake of his head as he took the last turnoff. It would still be a few minutes before the house would be in view, the driveway was long and winding, but they were nearly there.

"Said like a man who knows we are right." Natasha turned to look out the window, keeping track of each turn and any landmark. She did not intend to have to escape, but old habits died hard and, besides, it was impossible to know ahead of time what might happen.

Clint's laughter shifted to protests and giggles as Lucky began climbing on him, licking his neck and face and ear in response to all of the excitement, and he gasped out, "Help! Attack dog! Agh!"

There was almost nothing by way of landmarks, beyond the brightly lit house (more the size of a mansion) coming into view. There were fewer trees than was typical for that area of the Northeast but enough that it was hard to tell if it was by accident or design. Philip just rolled his eyes as he pulled up in the drive. "He's just anticipating being even more spoiled while we're here."

"Clint, or Lucky?"

"Ha, ha, ha," Clint drawled, finally getting himself together enough to briefly catch the glint of Victoria's rifle scope in a second floor window on their way down the drive. It was gone a second later, so he guessed it was probably just her way of testing his eyes. "He means Lucky. Wait, you mean Lucky, right?"

"I'll leave it to you to guess," Philip said dryly as he popped the trunk and got out of the car. They hadn't brought a lot, they weren't going to be there that long but... three people and a dog.

Everything about this place put Natasha on edge. There were too many good sniper's nests built into the upper floor, the grounds were sprawling enough that there might be anything hidden in there. They were certainly armed, based on what Clint had told her, and both the occupants she was anticipating were intelligence.

And that was all without even having to consider the possibility of unanticipated occupants.

Natasha was hyper vigilant as she stepped out of the car, and headed around to near where Coulson stood. More to protect herself than for any more selfless reason, like helping him move the bags.

Clint tumbled out of the backseat with his dog, who immediately took off to go investigate the grounds. The archer straightened and strolled around to help with the bags, but at the same time, subtly put himself between Natasha and the house. He couldn't do much to help her feel more at ease - not until they got into a secure room alone - but at least he could put himself in the line of any imagined fire.

Philip glanced at the pair of them and stifled the sigh. This was either going to be great or... boom. It was tough to tell which. He led the way to the porch instead to ring the bell. His grandparents knew they were there, of course, but just going in was really rude.

The door opened immediately, Philip's grandmother outlined in the cheerful light and she smiled widely as she saw them. She hadn't changed a bit, white hair and bright red holiday sweater "Right on time, Philip," Victoria said as she looked them over. "Clinton, dear, welcome back, we have everything set for you both." She stepped back, waving them in. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

Clint winced and made a face at the use of his full name. Somehow he'd forgotten about her tendency to do that. And oh, hey, there was a familiar tickle of the same dread he'd felt last year. Apparently it hadn't completely gone away. These were strangers, no matter how much time he'd spent with them last year. Also, Natasha's uncertainty was probably catching.

He didn't make the mistake of slinging an arm around Natasha like he wanted to, knowing she probably wanted her arms free so she could defend herself from any threat, real or otherwise. But he did lean a little closer to her. "Natasha," he 'introduced', because they both knew that wasn't her real name, and he didn't feel like offering a fake family name.

"Hello, Natasha," the older woman said easily. "I'm Victoria, Philip's grandmother. Why don't you all come in and get settled a bit, hmm? I'm sure you're hungry at least after the long drive. Philip, dear, bring them upstairs, would you? I made up the room Clinton stayed in last year for your new friend and you can all come down to the kitchen when you like." She gave her grandson a smug little look at the end of that, as much for what she hadn't said as she had.

Oh, there was going to be so much interrogating, Philip thought with a wince and it'd be worse when his grandfather got involved. He was even more of a romantic than Victoria was. "It's up this way," he said as he nodded towards the staircase with garlands and lights strung up the length of it.

"Nice to meet you, Victoria. Thank you so much for having me," Natasha said, the picture of polite sincerity. She was subtly canvassing the home as they stepped inside, though, despite her outwardly comfortable and polite demeanor.

Clint left Lucky outside to run around for a bit, then hauled his duffle over his shoulder, heading for the stairs. "Why does she get to be Natasha, and I'm Clinton?" he grumbled.

"Because it's not a nickname," Philip said promptly. "You're never going to hear her call her Tasha or anything like that." And Natasha was a claimed name, that made it... different. "I make no promises for my grandfather," he said with a glance back at the redhead. "He's probably going to want to chat, he doesn't get to do that much in the States. It won't be anything weird, I promise."

"You don't chat with your own grandfather," she asked, voice idle though both Clint and Philip would likely realize she was teasing him.

"Not in Russian, mine is really bad," Philip said with a shrug. "He also really likes embarrassing me. Oh," he paused as he reached the top of the stairs. "I don't know if it'd bother you but they are... really into each other. Really into. So, approach any room when they're alone with caution." Because he was nineteen and they were old and just... no.

Natasha hardly had to point out to him that would approach any such room with caution regardless, and trusted the look she gave him to communicate as much. "Which room is mine?"

"Here," Clint told her, turning to push the door open to one of the guest rooms. Then, under his breath, "Window opens onto the roof of the porch."

The room itself was utterly nondescript, if looking like something out of a home decorator catalog, quilts and all. "Most of the house is closed up," Philip put in. "There's way too much space for the two of them really, but they like it here."

'Closed up' could either mean unused or intentionally off-limits to her. Natasha supposed she would find out which he meant that night once everyone had gone to bed. She looked around the room, appearing as though simply taking it in. She was actually doing an initial sweep for bugs. Just in case.

That done, she turned back to the boys to ask. "And where is your room?"

Clint thumbed across the hall at the door a few feet away. Technically, he didn't think of it as his room. He'd probably be sliding back and forth between the two. He didn't like the idea of Natasha being left alone, especially since they usually ended up sleeping together on the couch or something whenever he wasn't with Coulson.

Philip opened the door and just... rolled his eyes. Extra bedding, extra pillows, the good sized, very fluffy looking pillow on the floor that was obviously for Lucky. "For what it's worth," he said, looking over at Natasha. "They're probably going to be at least kinda distracted being smug at me and Clint."

"They sound like they can multitask."

"Don't worry. Most of the time they're too wrapped up in themselves to bother," Clint shrugged, passing Coulson and tossing his duffle at the end of the bed.

"It's not a bad thing," Philip protested as he dropped his own things off. "I mean, it's good that they're so much together. I just don't want to see it."

Natasha snickered, both in genuine amusement and cover up with discomfort she felt. She wandered over and flopped on the boys' bed, before propping herself up on one arm to watch them.

Clint dropped down next to her to stretch out at her side, both arms back behind his head. "Trust me, none of us do. Your grandparents are gross when they're together."

"Yeah, well, they're also one of those formative relationship examples I've had," Philip said as he eyed the pair of them then went to sit at the foot of the bed. "Romance with a capital R."

"The stuff of books and fairy tales?"

"With occasional real weirdness," Philip said with a shrug. "I had an uncle tell me my grandfather is really into watching her work. Definitely more than I ever wanted to know."

"Can we, uh, change topic?" Clint asked, valiantly attempting to keep a straight face.

"Please, yes. If you guys are tired we can crash for a bit or we can look for food. Thoughts?" Philip asked, clearly relieved.

Natasha looked over at Clint, and then back to Philip as she shrugged. "Food?"

He was off of the bed and at the door before either of them could blink. "You gotta ask?"

"There was something about making something special?" Philip said with a shrug. "Whatever that meant, Grandma was looking smug about it."

Maybe food had been a bad idea. The thought of eating something Philip's grandmother had already prepared - something Natasha had not watched her prepare - made her nervous.

"Grandma's a big fan of helping yourself" Philip continued as he waved towards the door. He'd caught the hesitation, how could he not? "There's no servings or anything like that and she makes enough for too many people. So it'll all be common dishes, nothing to worry about. She's going to smack me for ruining the surprise but she's been bugging my grandfather about traditional Russian holiday food. So it might be familiar for you, that's all."

She glanced over at Clint. "You coming?"

"I'm not passing up food," Clint grinned, as he stepped aside to let her pass. "Russian or not."

Philip just rolled his eyes, he was more than acquainted with the hollow stomach. "Come on then." It was better to show Tasha that it'd be okay than to tell anyway.

Natasha slid past Clint, back into the hall, and waited for the other two before she began making her way back downstairs. She wasn't sure if she was more concerned or curious about meeting Philip's grandfather, the inspiration for any possible dishes from home.