together ⌁ stony oneshots [complete]

𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 [040]

Being stuck in an elevator was one thing.

Being stuck in an elevator with Tony Stark was an entirely different matter.

Steve felt like a teenager again. He was all flustered: stuttering his words; avoiding eye contact; wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. Tony (who had remained completely calm the entire time and was now hastily typing away on his phone) kept throwing him piteous glances, probably thinking that his odd behavior was because he was afraid, or something. It wasn't. Steve couldn't care less about being trapped, because he wasn't, really - they were only a few floors up when it had happened, and the exterior of the elevator was made entirely from glass: Steve could easily jump out, and he'd definitely survive the fall. So no, it wasn't the whole trapped-in-an-elevator thing that was making Steve nervous.

It was the fact that he was trapped in a small, tight space with Tony Stark.

And that they were alone.

Tony breathed out a long sigh, shoving his phone back into his pocket and folding his arms. "Fucking SHIELD with their fucking tech," he muttered. "My elevators don't stall like this,"

"Y-yeah, I bet," Steve replied, stammering like crazy. His palms were practically dripping sweat: he wiped them hastily on his jeans. What the hell is wrong with you, Rogers? Get your act together, it's only Tony.

"Jesus, Rogers. You look like a leaking faucet," Stark quipped, turning to look at him and raising an eyebrow.

Steve's eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"You," Tony said simply, as though that explained everything. "You're gonna cause a flood in here if you don't stop sweating. I mean, it's not that hot in here,"

Steve blinked, and his cheeks were suddenly getting warm. "Oh," He swallowed, and then ran a hand through his hair. The gesture was unusual - normally Steve kept his golden locks perfectly styled - and Tony looked at him oddly, tilting his head.

"Oh," Tony repeated, sounding like he'd just discovered something. "I see,"

Oh, Lord. Now his cheeks really were blazing. "What?"

"You're nervous," The genius declared, stating the obvious. "Scared, even. I didn't know you were claustrophobic,"

"Huh?" Steve questioned, frowning. You know, you should really stop with the one-word answers, Rogers. "No, I-that's not it,"

"Oh?" He sounded surprised. "Really? Not even a little bit?"

"No, Stark. I-"

"But you were frozen solid for what, seventy years? Surely-"

"Tony, please-"

"Right. Sore topic. My bad," He actually looked slightly apologetic. "So you're really not-"

"No,"

"What about agoraphobia, huh? Is that it?"

"What? No, I-I don't even know what that means,"

"Hm...yeah, actually, I guess you would be able to escape-"

"What?"

"Still, there must be something-"

"There's nothing," Steve corrected, narrowing his eyes. "I'm fine,"

"Uh-huh," Tony nodded, not believing a word of it. "Well, something's got your patriotic panties in a twist,"

Steve rolled his eyes. You might find him attractive, Rogers, but he's also an annoying son of a- He sighed, folding his arms, and turned away from him to face the glass window. He gazed at the view of the city below. Oh, how it had changed since the forties...