rodrikstark's headcanons (part 5)

a. pugliese + stuck in an elevator

"did you say help is on the way, or jen is on the way?"

"yep!" nikki chirps before hanging up.

pug pinches the bridge of his nose, pocketing his cell phone. he had suggested that nikki notify the building's security, or even the fire department. anything to dampen all the commotion that the superhuman law division stirs up on a regular basis.

but now, pug turns to face you, his movements measured. too much momentum, and he would accidentally smack you with his briefcase—that's how cramped this elevator feels. even with you folded tight in the corner, a vice grip on your wristwatch as you twist it back and forth.

"so, good news and bad news," he starts. "my friend's coming to get us." a sigh. "but, she's..."

you drop your hands to brace the railing along the wall. "big and green and scary?"

he almost spouts one of the many phrases he instinctively uses to defend his friend: the internet likes to exaggerate. or, that was an accident. or, she's not like that. but the words fade as you lift your face toward the mirrored ceiling, blinking away a couple tears.

"you work for GLK&H, right? she's kinda hard to miss." you're barely laughing. "what, is she planning to rip those doors open?"

pug grimaces. "she'll be really careful."

"whatever gets us out of here." you push yourself closer to the wall, frowning at your shoes.

they're sneakers, actually—as bold as your business-casual dress code probably permits. he's always wanted to compliment them, but now doesn't seem like the right time.

"pug?" outside, jen knocks on the door. "it's me. back up."

a sense of conflict pounds in his chest as he crowds you backward. a little bit of pride, for shielding you; shame, for invading your space. "sorry."

your eyes are wide and shiny. "it's okay." you nod, and then he holds the railing, too.

pug tries not to flinch when the metal doors creak and crunch behind him. "where do you work?"

"the publishing company. seventeenth floor."

"i'm pug." he gestures to the badge around his neck. "twentieth floor."

he should probably marvel at the superhuman feat taking place over his shoulder, but your softened gaze hasn't quite left him, and you're giving him this shy, shy smile. "i've never been to the twentieth floor."

he knows. he watches you step off the elevator almost every morning, resisting the urge to follow and let loose all the stupid stuff he's imagined saying to you.

pug clears his throat. "you should visit sometime."