Natasha-Russian-Born on Christmas

Clint took Natasha's hand and led her through the mall. It was Christmas time in New York and everything was lit with festive lights. Nat sighed and rolled her eyes at Clint's enthusiasm as he pulled her into the crowd around the mall Santa Claus.

"I don't understand why you're so excited about a fat man in a sweaty red suit." She followed none the less.

"I never really had Christmas's. None that I remember anyway. Why are you so against it? I mean your name means 'born on Christmas'." Clint looked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"When did you ever research my name?" She poked him in the shoulder, taking the focus off his shitty childhood.

"When I was trying to access your file. I felt like it." He said it so nonchalauntly she almost missed it.

"You accessed my file?"

"Tried."

"Why?" Nat's anger was becoming clear. She didn't want him seeing anything she didn't want to tell him. She wasn't ready for everything to be out and out yet.

"I was tryng to figure out your real birthday. I just wanted to know, Tash." He made his voice sound calming and low. He didn't mean to anger her.

Natasha stopped at the nickname. He doesn't call her that very often, only when he wants something or when they're in the bedroom, which sometimes go hand in hand.

After a long pause, "What does my name mean agian, Mr. Nosey?"

"Born on Christmas, I alre- Oh!"

Nat rolled her eyes again. "It's a damn good thing you're pretty. I'm surprised it took you this long." She kissed him in the middle of the crowd, taking his hand and leading him to the fat man in the suit.