natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

a/n: (as requested) you being nat's passenger princess, getting princess treatment, fluff :)

"The only good thing about this movie was Lauren Cohan", you argue, stepping out of the auditorium with Nat's hand holding yours tightly.

"Oh, no. You just have bad movie taste. Cry about it", she replies amusedly, leading you through the dim hallway. There's a plush red carpet littered with popcorn in front of you, and the walls are covered in movie posters — a familiar sight you remember from your childhood. Behind you, you hear the chatter of other people who watched the movie with you.

Outside, it's dark already. The moon is high up on the sky, and you feel the cold wind mess up your hair. Natasha glances at you, smiling faintly.

"It's late", she then says, a hint of carefulness to her voice. "Do you want to come over to my place?"

You look at her, the corners of your mouth forming a sweet smile. "I'd never say no to that. But I demand one thing..."

Natasha sighs, a small grin on her face. "Of course. What is it?"

You stop her and pull her around, tugging her into you. Her lips crash into yours, a muffled sound escaping her. When you part, Natasha's cheeks have taken on a pink hue.

"This", you say simply and continue dragging her to her car. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound comes out. Natasha gives up trying to find a witty response to your bold move, and instead allows you to lead her to her car.

Having arrived there, she unlocks the black Mustang with the press of a button before opening the passenger door for you.

"Hop in, princess", she says, finally having found her voice again.

You squeeze her hand before sitting down, Natasha giving you a tiny smirk.

You're used to her car by now. A faint smell of the air freshener she applies monthly, comfortable seats, a few of your favorite magazines stashed in the glove box. She drives you around at least four times a week, and you love it.

You look to your left when Natasha sits down as well, and she quickly buckles up. Her gaze drops to the almost empty popcorn bucket you're still holding in your hand.

"You better not spill any", she mumbles, starting the engine. You roll your eyes.

"I never spill stuff."

"Liar. I still find crumbs of that oat cookie whenever I clean the car." Natasha's trying to sound serious about this, but she's not succeeding — you can clearly hear the fondness in her voice. Truth is, she doesn't mind stuff like that as much as she pretends to, at least when you're the one responsible for it.

You stretch yourself, yawning. "Okay, one time. But I promise I'll be careful."

She sighs and then smiles, putting her hand on your thigh.

"Cold?", she then asks after a few moments of silence. But before you can even respond, her hand flicks to the dashboard to press the button that activates the heated seats, then it settles on your thigh again. You hum in acknowledgment, feeling the seat underneath you get warmer already.

Her thumb continues rubbing circles on your thigh as she keeps driving, the silence soothing. A few exchanged glances, a gentle squeeze of your thigh. You smile to yourself, the giddiness spreading through you.

"I bought a new toothbrush", Natasha says absentmindedly. "So we don't have to stop at your place unless you need something else."

You shake your head. "I don't. You've got everything I could possibly need, so..."