natasha romanoff one shots

drunk cooking

Twirling around the kitchen at 3am, I put onion, garlic and chorizo into the frying pan. I was a couple shots of vodka and a gin and tonic down and Natasha had drunk her fair share of vodka too. After a long night of partying with the team, we had finally made it back to our shared apartment not far from the Avenger's Tower. Our original plan to go straight to bed upon arriving home had failed dramatically when both of us remembered how hungry we were seeing as we hadn't eaten since way earlier in the day. I wasn't entirely sure what I was cooking - I just threw together a bunch of ingredients in a pot hoping I could make a meal out of it. Either way it was better than Nat's poor excuse at cooking which consisted of a messily made peanut butter sandwich and a packet of Doritos dumped in a bowl.

The giggle that came out of her mouth as she slid it across the kitchen island to me in a 'grand reveal' made me smile like an idiot. She was so immensely proud of her little presentation that I couldn't help but feel proud too. I stirred the pot of random ingredients and furrowed my brow as I tried to remember what I was cooking. Turns out I had a lot more alcohol than I thought. Retracing my steps, I managed to figure out I intended to make a pasta bake however I realised we didn't have any pasta. Or any of the ingredients for the sauce other than onion, garlic and chorizo. So, now I stared at a sizzling pan of those ingredients with no clue what to do with them.

"Hey. What can I make with this?" I turned to face Nat who was happily munching her way through her sandwich with a goofy smile on her face.

"Put it in a sandwich." She deadpanned before giggling even more. Drunk Nat only ever came out when she knew she was safe and protected. With Stark's high tech security system in our apartment and with me around, she knew she could let loose once we got home. Which meant I was now blessed with seeing the softest side of my girlfriend and quite simply, the silliest side of her.

"Not everything can be put in sandwich, Tashie." I laughed, stumbling my way across to the bin to chuck the half cooked meal away seeing as I couldn't use it. Most of the contents didn't make it into the bin and splattered onto the floor which only made Nat laugh harder at me. I crouched down on the floor to tidy it up, waving a hand at Nat to chuck me a cloth which inevitably hit me square in the face. My delayed reaction combined with my clumsiness made me topple over backwards, very unflatteringly, so I was lying face up on the cold kitchen tiles. At that point, the alcohol really went to my head and the room started spinning slightly. I closed my eyes to stop the ceiling from swirling and when I opened them again she was right there.

Nat was crouched above me, her face only inches away. It took me a couple blinks but when my eyes finally focused I could see her wide grin and her wavy red hair falling down. It tickled my nose slightly when she moved causing me to scrunch my face up. Her emerald eyes gazed into mine with the most adorable look of contentment. She looked so relaxed and safe that it made me mirror her emotions.

"You look adorable, baby." Nat mumbled, tapping my nose as she did.

"Nattie. Can you make me a peanut butter sandwich? Pleaseee." I put on my best puppy dog eyes to convince her, jutting my bottom lip out in a pout.

"HA! My sandwiches aren't so stupid now, are they? Hmm?" She replied, "I can't say no to that face though, come on you." She reached out her hand to pull me up to a standing position. I wobbled a little, still very dizzy, but Nat just held me in her embrace until I stopped swaying. Her fingers traced up and down my back to sooth me, her face tucked onto my shoulder in a tight hug. Then she pulled away to start making my sandwich whilst still stuffing Doritos in her mouth when she had the chance. Her excuse was that she had the 'post vodka munchies' and needed the extra energy to replace what she exerted on making the sandwich.

I grabbed my phone which was automatically connected to the bluetooth speaker, and played some music. It cycled through a few of our favourite songs before landing on 'I Was Made For Lovin' You' by KISS. Nat scooped the peanut butter out of the jar and slapped it onto the bread. Let's just say the entire process was not elegant, but seeing this woman so relaxed in her element made me fall even further in love. I tucked my face into her neck, wrapping my arms around her from behind, savouring all of the moments I got to see her like this. I traced patterns on her stomach through her dress and swayed us side to side. She twisted in my arms to face me, her back now leant up against the counter. Stupid me thought she was going in for a kiss but nope. She just handed me the peanut butter jar and instructed me to put it back in the cupboard.

I huffed with the disappointment of missing out on a kiss and wriggled out of her embrace to put the jar away. Whilst skipping and dancing like an idiot to the music, I seemed to forget the food I spilled on the tiles earlier and slipped to face plant right in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Shit! Bubs, are you okay?" Nat rushed to my side, peanut butter sandwich still in hand and rubbed my back with her free hand. I just rolled onto my back to face her, laughing hysterically at what just happened and clearly my laugh was infectious as Nat started chuckling away too. She tucked my hair behind my ear delicately and leaned down for a kiss, then two, then three. She couldn't stop pecking my lips and as much as I don't want to admit it, I think it was singlehandedly the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

"Tashie. Tash. Stop. Your mouth tastes like Doritos." I smiled, pushing her away jokingly. She just grumbled and rolled onto her back to lie next to me on the floor where we stayed in silence of a while. After a few minutes, she seemed to remember she was holding the sandwich she made for me. Instead of reminding me, or warning me, she just pressed the bread against my closed mouth in an attempt to feed me. I cackled the most horrific laugh and opened my mouth to take a bite out of the sandwich, grateful to finally be eating food even if it wasn't the homecooked meal we had in mind. Once I finished the sandwich (Nat helped me out by stealing half of it for herself), she dragged me to my feet and we danced.

We danced like the world was ours. Uncoordinated and clumsy but carefree and happy. Being drunk and cooking was not our forte - evidently - but being drunk and happy was our specialty. Nat spun me round in circles, then I would dip her to give her one of those passionate kisses you see in the movies. We'd jump around like we were at a club to a slow song and we would slow dance to a song that was made for a rave. We danced until our legs gave in underneath us and the exhaustion kicked in. We would have one hell of a hangover in the morning, and a load of mess to clean up in the kitchen from our drunken cooking, but we didn't care. Because we were happy and nothing in the world could take that away from us.