natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

a/n: well...another songfic! based on 'dress' by taylor swift (who else lol). also, i do realize that a lot of my fics are taking place at parties but whatever.

You've always hated parties. Despised them, actually. You can't stand loud noises or crowds, you don't feel comfortable being around this many drunk people and the occasional guy throwing up behind the couch makes you want to never go to one of these ever again.

But sometimes, you don't have a choice.

Like when Tony's throwing a party and Natasha invites you to join. You can't say no to Natasha, right?

Your friend — best friend, even. At least that's the label you've put on yourselves, to avoid further discussions about what you are and where this is going. You've known each other for almost a year, and with every day you've spent together you've gotten as close as no one else. It's even gotten to the point where she sleeps over in your bed regularly, lying there facing you, her eyes calm and her presence grounding.

Sometimes, Natasha will even lift her hand and brush her thumb over your cheek. Tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Rest it on your waist for a few seconds, before hesitantly pulling away. You can't even deny that the label 'best friends' is more than inappropriate now. Your relationship is much more intimate, and you both know that. Neither of you bothers to tell the other one about it, though — you're both sure that you don't have to, as it seems that you both feel the exact same.

"Party time", Natasha whispers after sneaking up behind you, her lips right next to your ear. "I haven't seen this dress on you yet."

"It's new", you reply as you turn around, feeling her eyes bore into yours. You smile softly. "Hi."

She smiles back. "Hey."

You're both standing outside of the compound, just waiting for a few more minutes before going inside. Crowds of people are already making their way to the party, chatting and laughing and looking thrilled at the opportunity to go to one of Tony Stark's parties.

You look at Natasha again, catching her staring at you. She tilts her head.

"Ready to go?", she asks.

"I guess", you sigh.

"I know you don't like parties, but neither do I, and I refuse to be here by myself", the redhead says. "We'll still have a nice time, okay?"

"I don't doubt it", you say, taking her hand. "Come on."

Natasha smiles as she follows you, her fingers intertwined with yours.

. . .

Almost two hours later, you realize two things.

One: you still hate parties.

Two: Natasha can make anything fun, even something you despise this much.

Ever since you got here, she's done her best to distract you from the usual stuff like the careless drinking and the overly suggestive comments coming from men. When some guy tried to get you to go upstairs with him, she instantly grabbed her gun and held it up to his face, her own expression blank and intimidating in the most subtle way possible. He stumbled backwards, his hands lifted into the air.

"Your gun? Really?", you say dismissively.

"He had it coming."

"Hm." You can't help the smile on your face. "I mean, thank you."

"You're welcome." She looks at you, her hand brushing over yours for a second. Immediately, your cheeks turn fiery red. "I can assume you don't want to dance?"