I've never been to NYC before. And I've never even watched the ball drop on tv (I know *gasp*) so please forgive inaccuracies!

If whoever was lurking out in the hallway didn't leave in the next five seconds, Natasha was going to go out there and personally escort them from the building. With her fists. This was supposed to be the season of peace on Earth. Well, literal peace obviously wasn't going to happen but was it too much to ask for a couple hours of sleep? And okay, sure, Christmas was last week but she was willing to accept it as a late present. But apparently she wasn't going to get her wish because there came a soft knock on her door. In situations like this, there was really only one thing she could do: ignore it. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough of a deterrent and the knock came again, but this time the door actually opened a crack.

For the raccoon's own safety, Natasha hoped it wasn't Rocket trying to get her to watch more holiday movies with him. For some unfathomable reason, the little critter was obsessed with them. But there was no way Natasha was sitting through yet another viewing of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The compound was practically empty this year. The already depleted number of heroes was whittled even further, until Natasha found herself celebrating with Rocket and Nebula alone, the two who least understood the holiday. Christmas had been a muted version of its customary cheer. Rhodey was out of state, visiting family. Okoye had long since returned to Wakanda. Carol was following a lead in some distant quadrant of space. And Steve was traveling through the east coast, helping the homeless or some other noble task-it was hard to keep up with all of his various humanitarian efforts.

So that was how Natasha ending up spending half of Christmas day trying to explain certain traditions to the curious aliens, and the other half trying to stop them from drinking all the booze in the compound. The day after, she'd taken down the decor, pitched the tree out back, and braced herself for four more months of bleak winter weather. She warned them she wasn't going to be in much of a celebratory mood for New Years either. They weren't going to have a party. They weren't going to stay up until midnight. Natasha was going to bed. She was going to go to bed early. She was going to go to bed early and sleep for as long as she wanted to sleep. December thirty-first seemed as good a day as any to catch up on that at least. She'd told them not to disturb her until January first.

Now, someone was disturbing her and the clock on her bedside table informed her that it was very much still December. The door opened a little wider and Natasha burrowed deeper into her blankets, feigning sleep.

"Nat? You awake?"

Smashed into the pillow as her ears were, it took her a moment to fully recognized that voice. Once she did though, she shifted on the mattress, until she could poke her head out of her nest of covers like a meerkat popping out of its burrow. "Steve?"

The light from the hall traced his outline as he came more fully into the room. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" Natasha pushed up into a sitting position.

When he walked over to her bed, she had no idea how he actually found her knee amidst the mountain of blankets. But somehow he located her kneecap on the first try, giving it a few light pats. "Get dressed."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Even without being able to see him in full light, she knew him well enough to recognize the agitation in the straight line of his shoulders, the way he rocked back on his heels. His tone wasn't panicked or angry but something was definitely on his mind.

"Why?" She tossed aside the covers anyway. "What's going on?"

"Meet me out front as soon as you're ready." With that, he was gone, leaving Natasha to share a dumbfounded look with her closet door.

"Some details would have been nice," she muttered, climbing off her bed and wondering what exactly she should dress for.

In the end, she went with black. Black fit any occasion. So did the pistol tucked into the the pocket of the coat she threw on as she raced out of her room and through the compound. As she approached the front entry, she could see him through the glass, pacing back and forth by the car. When she stepped outside, he opened the passenger side door for her, ever the gentleman.

"So. Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Steve slid into his seat, fingers curling tight over the wheel. The corner of his mouth ticked up. "No."

He guided the car down the long drive, toward the gate. Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You know I don't like secrets."

"Are you kidding? You're made of ninety-five percent secrets," Steve shot back as he reached the open road and accelerated quickly.

"And the other five percent?" Natasha couldn't wait to hear his answer. He needed to chose his words carefully.

"Sugar and spice and everything nice?" Steve suggested with an impish grin.

"That's what little girls are made of." She rolled her eyes. Trees blurred past the windshield and she leaned to the left to glance at the speedometer. "What's your hurry, soldier?"

"I'm on a bit of a tight schedule," he said.

"A tight schedule, huh?" Natasha hummed, settling back into her seat. "I bet I can figure out where we're going."

Steve's eyes cut over to her. "I'm sure you can. But that would ruin the surprise. So I'm asking you, please. Don't think about it."

"What else am I supposed to do?" She threw her hands up.

"Sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Fine. But if I'm not allowed to think about where we're going, then I'm not going to think about anything." Natasha wriggled out of her coat, spinning it around until it was backwards and she could pull it to her chin like a makeshift blanket. "I'm going to sleep. Like I was planning on doing before you came and woke me."

"In my defense, most people don't go to bed before six p.m."

"How I choose to celebrate the holiday is my business." She tilted head against the window and shut her eyes.

"Whatever you say," Steve murmured, amused.

Shortly after, the radio was switched on, tuned in to a station still clinging to classic Christmas carols. Between the familiar songs, the heater blowing steady warmth at her and the motion of the car, Natasha soon fell into a pleasant doze.

When she woke up, there was no mistaking their destination. "What in the…" She straightened, shaking off the lingering dredges of sleep. "You drove all the way from Maine just to drag me out of bed and bring me here?"

"Yes, I did. Now come on!" Steve wedged the car into a narrow gap between two other cars and shut off the engine. After carefully opening his door, he squeezed out and came around to open Natasha's.

"How did you even find a parking space?" Natasha wondered, sliding her arms back through her coat.

Steve looked immensely pleased with himself. "I have my ways."

"No, really. I want to know how you found a spot so close to Times Square at," she checked the time on her phone, "Eleven forty-eight on New Year's Eve." She glanced up at him. "Twelve minutes. You're cutting it kind of close, aren't you?"

Flurries were dancing through the air, not thick enough to lay, as if they too were tourists only staying long enough to welcome the coming year.

"Come on!" Steve grabbed her hand in his and pulled her down the street.

Even from their position, the noise of the gathered revelers was thunderous, only growing as they worked their way closer to Times Square. It wasn't long before they came across a traffic barrier. Beyond that was a wall of people.

Natasha frowned. "I don't think we have time to go around."

Steve slowed his pace slightly, glancing up and down the street. "You're right." He dropped her hand just long enough to hop over the barricade, inserting himself into the crowd on the other side.

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Captain America disobeying traffic laws? What is the world coming to?"

"We don't have time for this," Steve insisted, waving her closer.

Chuckling under her breath, Natasha gracefully leaped over the fence and Steve found her hand again. They pushed their way through the throng of people, Steve in the lead, shouldering a path for her. Another glance at the clock told Natasha they were running out of time. But Steve was a bulldozer, shoving past all the people in ridiculous hats and silly themed glasses, with their arms full of beer bottles and balloons. Most were too caught up in the moment to pay any attention to the two latecomers weaving their way closer to the center of Times Square. Natasha clung to Steve, not daring to let go of his hand for fear that if they were separated, she'd never find him again in the sea of people. Truth be told, the crowd was making her nervous. It was the most human beings she'd seen all packed together since before Thanos' victory. As elbows knocked into her and voices screamed on all sides, it didn't feel like half the world had disappeared.

Finally, they broke through to the very front. The ever running billboards bathed the area in multicolored light, yellow and red and white, green and blue and purple. It had been so long since she'd been in the city, Natasha had forgotten what New York was like. Bright, bold, unapologetic. And alive. So very, very alive. Steve said something beside her but it was lost in the commotion of everything going on around them.

"What?" she yelled.

He raised his voice. "We made it!"

They had. Just barely. Before Natasha could reply, a buzzer sounded, signaling the final sixty second countdown was beginning. The crowd cheered, the air charged with anticipation. Ahead of them, Natasha could see the tower, the ball lowering, the seconds being theatrically displayed. At regular intervals, a burst of fireworks flared, popping with color and sending tendrils of smoke curling in front of the clock. Ten seconds left. The crowd chanted enthusiastically, counting out the last moments of the year.

"Five!"

More fireworks blasted.

"Four!"

Steve's hand tightened on hers.

"Three!"

Natasha squeezed his hand in return.

"Two!"

He leaned forward and caught her lips in a kiss.

"One!"

The entirety of Times Square exploded in a deafening roar.

Recovering from her shock, Natasha closed her eyes and relaxed, letting him kiss her. Auld Lang Syne rang through the night, thousands of voices singing together. Fireworks lit the sky, while colorful confetti fell in showers. Still, they kissed, oblivious to it all. And when Steve finally pulled back, he didn't go far, bent over to remain close to her face.

"The tradition is to kiss at midnight," Natasha reminded him playfully.

"I couldn't wait that long," Steve admitted, gently brushing stray bits of confetti from her hair.

Natasha laughed, warm and easy.

"2021," Steve stated. "Fresh start."

"2021," Natasha repeated before leaning forward and kissing him again.