N.R. One Shots

Frozen Hate

Originally posted on Tumblr by @wlwmarvelenthusiast

**not mine**

She was acting like a child. A fucking child. In fact, you were surprised she didn’t stomp her boot into the snow, cross her arms over her chest, and scowl at you. She hadn’t gotten her way and now she was being a baby about it, practically throwing a temper tantrum while there was no one else around to see it. At least now that she was giving you the cold shoulder, though, she’d finally shut up. You continued to push through the snow in front of her.

“We’re heading home.”

“Sure. You can head home and crash your jet in the middle of a fucking blizzard. Die, for all I care. At least if you crash the thing yourself Rogers won’t be able to blame me,” you scoffed. “I’m going to stay rooted right here and live to see another day.”

The frustrated huff that came from the Avenger behind you made you roll your eyes.

A response would have only made her whine even more, so you didn’t give one. It was in silence that you trudged through the two-foot-deep snow that coated the ground. You passed right by the jet that Natasha so badly wanted to climb into and attempt to escape this desolate isolation with you, half expecting her to climb in and start it up. Natasha, as annoyed and annoying as she was, though, wasn’t an idiot. She, too, passed by and headed for the cabin.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumbled, kicking your boots off.

You didn’t even bother to take off your toque or snowsuit, though. You were freezing now, and you’d surely be colder without the protection of your winter gear on you. It seemed Natasha had the same idea. She moved forward in her puffy jacket and plopped herself down on the chair, eyes casting up to glance at where you were still standing. She raised one eyebrow, glancing down at the cold fireplace, and then back up at you. There was clearly an implication, but you weren’t about to take it.

“You gonna start this, or are we both going to freeze to death here?” She said.

“With how bad you wanted to get in that jet, I thought you wanted to die,” you shrugged, not arguing, though, as you put your boots back on your feet. “Anyway, I thought you were supposed to be Russian.”

You didn’t hear her response after you closed the door between you. As soon as your back was turned, you muttered a few curses under your breath. You wanted to leave just as badly as she did. You didn’t want to be stuck here with her either. She was insufferable, and you just had to get caught in a fucking blizzard after your mission. By now, you were throwing a little tantrum of your own as you stormed back toward the woodpile.

You got an armful of wood, splinters covering the arm of your jacket as you got as much as you could carry, hauling it back toward the cabin. You were grunting with the effort as you kicked the door back open with your foot, shook your boots back off your feet, and lugged the logs to the fireplace. You dropped them down on the floor in front of it, taking three of the small pieces and placing them in. You brushed some of the splinters off your jacket before you turned to Natasha.

“Hand me the lighter.”

“You have the lighter.”

“I don’t have the fucking lighter, Natasha. Why would I be asking you for it if I had it?” You scoffed. “You had it in your pocket earlier.”

“I didn’t.”

She absolutely did. She’d lit a candle the night before so she could head to the bathroom and not smack her toe off a door frame. You’d watched her put the red cigarette lighter into her pocket when she’d finished lighting it, and she’d never put it back on the mantle where she belonged. If you said that, though, she’d never believe you anyway, so you didn’t even bother. You dropped the accusation as you fell back so you were resting on the back of your calves.