natasha romanoff one shots

elevator

The doors of the elevator pinged open to reveal a scowling Natasha Romanoff. I had absolutely zero doubts that the look on my face perfectly mirrored hers as she walked in. Natasha and I - not friends, not acquaintances and barely even colleagues. I'm certain that if we got a choice, we wouldn't even be that. And now we had to share a confined space for the ride from the 2nd floor of the Stark Tower to the top floor of the Stark Tower. A painstaking 45 second journey to the top with none other than the woman I dislike most out of all the Avengers. Where this rivalry (which cannot even be described as friendly) started I do not recall. All I know is she hates me and I sure as hell don't enjoy her presence.

The doors slid shut behind Natasha and she turned her back towards me. How polite of her. Not that I'd want to look at her face for the whole time anyways.

"Just know I'm not in here by choice. If I wasn't in a rush I would've taken the stairs. God, I would do anything to avoid you. But some people have work to do so I am in a rush, you see." Nat commented.

"As am I. Because as much as it pains you to admit it I'm sure, I too am an Avenger and therefore we have both been called same meeting." I quipped, staring daggers into the back of her red curls.

"Funny. You can't be that important as I don't recall ever noticing you in any meetings." She replied, turning her head slightly to raise an eyebrow in my direction.

"Do you even remember my name, all-knowing Romanoff?" I raised my eyebrow back.

"David?" With that, she turned back to face the doors leaving my staring at the back of her head again.

"Nice try, Romanoff, but we both know you've spent long enough staring at my Instagram profile to know my pronouns are she/her." Now that. That one I was proud of. I could've sworn I noticed her body language change the slightest bit. She grabbed her hair and pulled into over her shoulder and her eyeline dropped to the floor. A slight flush could be seen on the back of her neck now that her hair was brushed out of the way. "Little bit flustered there. Never thought I'd see the-."

The elevator shuddered to a sudden stop, cutting my sentence off. I backed up to grip the railing underneath the mirror and leant against the cool metal. This was my nightmare. First things first, I was stuck in a confined space for a prolonged period of time with Natasha Romanoff. Second of all, I was stuck in a confined space for a prolonged period of time with severe claustrophobia. I couldn't quite decide which was worse, although the longer I thought about it, I'm starting to think it was the latter. I swear these elevators were never this small.

"Why have we stopped?" I asked nervously.

"I know you believe I'm omniscient and all that, but just this once, I don't know." Natasha continued with our usual conversation but the banter was beginning to go straight over my head when I noticed how close the walls seemed to be getting. Was the air-conditioning broken too? I swear the temperature had risen significantly in the past few seconds. Or was it minutes? Time seemed to blur along with my eyesight and thoughts in this tiny space. My heart thumped against my chest as if it was trying to escape and my lungs worked double time.

"Natasha. Why have we stopped?" I asked again, all rationality surrendering itself to the panic.

"I told you. I don't know. Seriously, are you deaf?" She sounded exasperated at me now, the usual mocking tone left behind. I briefly saw her hair flick round and her eyes on me but I hardly noticed as my eyes scanned the elevator for escape routes. Or one of those alert bells. Or maybe a big red panic button Tony had installed in case of a situation like this which automatically starts the mechanics again. Please say he installed a big red panic button. Much to my disappointment, there was a severe lack of said button.