Seven Minutes Too Long
(Requested by: @Spectre7 )
"C'mon, (Y/N). Don't be a party-pooper. Come join us!" Clint waved you over from the couch where the Avengers were conversing. (Each with a champagne glass at hand, might you add.)
You were sitting at the bar, a glass of orange juice by your side as you were consumed in a book.
"Yeah, (Y/N)! Come join the party!" Tony chorused.
"Sorry, I don't feel like making drunken bets with you guys."
"Oh, come on. We're more mature than that," Tony scoffed before nudging Clint to receive a ten.
"(Y/N), put down the book and have some fun. You don't have to be a nerd all the time," Clint muttered before taking another sip from his glass.
"Guys, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to be over here, leave her be," Steve chided. (The only other sober person in the room.)
You gave him a thumbs-up from your seat without looking up. "Thanks, Steve."
"Sure thing, (Y/N/N)*." No one noticed the slight blush that dusted Steve's cheeks as he replied.
[*(Y/N/N) = your nickname]
"(Y/N), please come over. The amount of testosterone is killing me," Nat pleaded. The males of the group chuckled.
You sighed before you shut your book angrily. "Fine. But, I'm not doing any truth-or-dare crap. Anything like that, and I'm out."
The guys put their hands up in mock surrender and both Nat and Wanda smiled at you as you sat down.
"So, as we were saying," started Tony as he pulled a slip of paper out of the box. "Who's most likely to win a prank war?"
"Stark."
"Nat."
"Clinton"
"Dude, it's Clint."
"Nat."
"Natasha."
"Okay, most likely to... start a band?"
"Clint."
"Bruce."
"Steve."
"What? Why me?" Steve turned to you.
You shrugged before a grin spread across your face. "You sing in the shower. You have a nice voice."
The team erupted into laughter as Nat broke out into the national anthem, doing a terrible impression of Steve.
Steve blushed before staring down at his full glass. You laughed, but elbowed Nat to knock it off.
"Next. Who's most likely to... flirt with anything that breathes?"
It was a unanimous "Tony".
The conversation curved, and all types of subjects were brought up: from old love to new embarrassing episodes, you were becoming overwhelmed.
"Since there is obvious tension in the room, a bit of the intimate kind, I suggest a game," Tony spoke after downing his seventh glass of champagne.
You started to get up, but Steve grasped your shoulder gently and sat you back down.
"Hold on, (Y/N). Let's see what Stark proposes."
You waited anxiously for Tony to speak, ever the one for dramatic pauses.
"Seven Minutes in Heaven."
The team split into those who were hooting, and those who were groaning.
You, for one, were confused.
"What's that?"
All eyes turned to you, shocked gazes all around. (Well, except for Steve and Thor, of course.)
"Yes, what is this 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' you speak of? Do we travel to Valhalla?
"No," Nat spoke up. "It's where you-"
"Why don't we let them figure out?" Tony burst in.
"Unanimous vote for (Y/N) and Spangles?"
And before you knew it, you and Steve were being shoved in a closet.
When you turned to protest, the door was shut in your face and locked. You pounded on the door until you heard Tony pipe up, "Nuh-uh-uh. The rules of this game are: you have seven minutes to do whatever you like. When the time is up, you can come back and join us, or finish in a bedroom, whichever you like."
Your face turned a beet red.
You turned around to see Steve staring at you in shock. He knew that you were claustrophobic, (*cough, cough*) and that this would be a problem. You could even hear Nat outside telling Tony to stop. Sam was simply making kissing noises and both Clint and Thor were hooting.
It began to feel stuffy. A light sheen of sweat appeared on your forehead. Steve must have noticed the lightness of your breathing.
"(Y/N/N), c'mon, look at me."
The shouts were getting louder and the room was getting hotter.
"(Y/N), five more minutes. You can last five minutes, please." Steve was gently rubbing your arms, a calming gesture for claustrophobia he read about. "Just- uh, just look at me. Just look at me, (Y/N/N)."
The team was getting louder and you wouldn't budge. Steve's large hand barely pressed against your skin has he touched your sweaty temple.
"(Y/N), look at me."
Your breathing was getting faster and shorter. He remembered his fits of heavy coughs and feathery breathing from a long time ago. He rested his other hand on your back, attempting to rub soothing circles.
You were beginning to shake.
"(Y/N/N),"
You shook your head in stubbornness.
"(Y/N), gosh darnit-"
And, well...
•••••
"So, I didn't hear any shelves fall," Tony started after you all sat down again. They had given you to some space after Nat and Wanda had explained the situation.
Tony apologized, but Steve was staring daggers at him every time he brought it up.
"Tony, your mind is always in the gutter, isn't it?" You asked.
"So is your dignity."
You, being a mature and sophisticated adult, stuck your tongue out at him.
He reciprocated the same before breaking out into a grin.
Nat nudged your elbow, then directed her gaze at Steve's hand, which was resting on your lower thigh. You winked playfully, and her eyes lit up.
You would definitely have questions to answer later. For now, you were relishing in the moment while it was just between you and Steve.
_______________________
A/N: *Guiltily ducks head in shame* No amount of apologies will make up for my absence. My one excuse is: many chapters back, I vented to you guys about what was going on in my life. Well, I am moving. My family and I are/have been moving everything to a rental house for a couple of months while trying to settle in. My parents are trying to sell the old house as soon as possible, so I've been busy.
I'm going to officially call it:
I'm going on a Semi- Hiatus. I will desperately try to update as often as I can, but it all depends. I know I've been inactive for long periods before without calling hiatus, but I need to start being more inclusive.
Again, my sincere apologies.
So long, my beauts!
~Sports_books_1816