The Boss [COMPLETED]

Normal

Your brain was both frozen, and moving too fast. It couldn't think quick enough to make your body move, to plan your next step, because it was too busy thinking over what just happened.

Your boss just killed someone. In his office. In the chair that you sometimes sat in.

Your biggest question was why?

Your second question was how. How did he do it with such...casualness? Like he'd done it before?

You needed to get out. That was the first thing you needed to do. With the adrenaline shaking your body, you slowly stepped towards the door. Peering round the edge of the wood, you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Bucky walking back around the room, towards his desk, using a cloth to clean his gun before putting it down. Then he stared at the desk. You saw him reach a hand out, moving something, and then he just stopped. You breathed, watching him be dead still, then he straightened up, picked his gun back up, and put it into his belt. He readjusted his waistcoat, picked his suit jacket off the side of the desk, shrugged it on, and then walked out the room.

When the office door closed, you let out a loud breath and dropped to your knees, finally letting the emotions rush through you. The tears fell freely this time, hitting the tile flooring one after the other.

After a few minutes, after your eyes refused to produce anymore tears, you set about pushing yourself up from the floor. You finally pulled the door open, double, triple checking that the office was clear, and slowly stepped out. You walked past the desk, towards the door, when your eye caught sight of something on his desk.

Your phone.

A shot of white hot panic went through you. He must have seen it. It was just beside the Roedale paper you put down. You must have left it when you rushed to the bathroom. You cautiously went to pick it up, looking around the office as you put it in your pocket. The room was as silent as you were.

You caught sight of the chair again.

You suddenly ran out of the room.

That night, you couldn't sleep. Not even five minutes where your eyes closed. You were staring at the ceiling all night, your brain not so kindly replaying the moment when Bucky's gun went off. Replaying his words. Replaying Dean's body go limp.

You turned over every five minutes. You got up and walked around your apartment a few times. You sat on the kitchen floor for a little bit while you had some water.

Before you knew it, it was 6.30am, and your work alarm was going off. You took a few seconds to turn it off, debating whether you were even going to go in today. It was a Friday, which meant that if you called in sick, then you would have a few days to think things over a bit more.

If you did call in sick though, you felt like he would know the reason why. Over the night, you'd come to the conclusion that there was no feasible way for Bucky to not have seen your phone. Therefore, he knew you'd been in his office, and probably suspected that you saw something, if not everything with Dean. You didn't know what he would do once he saw you, to ensure that you wouldn't say everything.

Was Bucky the type of person to kill you to stop you blabbing?

Before last night, you would have said absolutely not. Now though, you really weren't sure.

You decided to call in sick, to your day job, and your evening job. Nat was concerned, seeing as you never called in sick, but you needed the time to yourself. At least now, you weren't expected at either job until Monday.

You spent the weekend holed away, only opening the door for takeout deliveries, thinking about the next step. How to act. What to say. Whether to quit.

Monday morning, you walked into the building. Acting as normal. Well, as normal as you could. As the lift got closer and closer to yours and Bucky's floor, the anxiety started bubbling in your stomach. You left the elevator, holding your head high, trying to recreate the same confidence you used while ordering your submissives around.