Warnings: language, angst, things get a little steamy *nudge nudge wink wink*
Word count: 1.5k
Series description: Y/N Y/L/N: determined business woman, sought after by most businesses, creative visionary for advertising. She has it all. Or so she thinks. Life has a way of kicking you sideways when you least expect it, want it or are in anyway prepared for it. Numerous times. How can Y/N remain from cracking under the pressure when her career isn’t the only thing on the line and everything isn’t all that it seems?
A/N: THURSDAY IS TR DAY! Happy Thursday everyone and always, here’s another chapter of The Retreat. Enjoy xx Marvel Masterlist Series Masterlist
Story:
Working late. One of the many ways my friends can describe me. I’m forever in my office after everyone else has long gone home, Wanda included. I know, I know, I’m marketing manager. I should be used to the long hours and the demanding workload and the incessant stream of emails. I shouldn’t really complain: the pay is fantastic and I adore what I do. And I’m good at it. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I wasn’t. Back in College, I was a freshman and Bucky was in his senior year. He was helping me with my minor in business, being a business major himself while I was a graphics major. A few years later, he contacted me and asked if I wanted to be involved in his new venture and (being the poor, freshly graduated, twenty something year old that I was) I agreed. I was hired because I was the best in my class.
Leaning back in my desk chair, I stretch my arms above my head, giving the muscles since much needed exercise. Ish. The only illumination in my office is from the computer screen which can’t be at all good for my eyes but I’m saving on electricity and the monsters in the dark don’t scare me! My printer sounds extremely loud in the otherwise silent office, whirring away like a low flying plane on a sunny day. I collect the papers into a folder and slip back into my heels. Professional mode activate.
Motion activated lights flicker on in the hallway as I approach them, the elevator dinging as it arrives before me. I push the button for the 25th floor and take a deep breath- this will be my first time seeing Mr Barnes since the trip.
His office is dark, like mine, the cityscape a twinkling sight to behold at this time of night. The door to his office is open allowing the glow of warm light to infiltrate the rest of the floor. Hesitantly and nervously, I tap on the door frame and enter.
“Mr Barnes, I have the files you wanted.” I offer them from across his huge desk. He’s sat in his office chair, his computer glowing brightly. He’s wearing just a blue button down shirt with the top few buttons undone, tie and blazer discarded on one of the grey chairs by his coffee table. He looks overworked and there is stubble on his face from more than a few days of not shaving. But he doesn’t look bad. No Y/N, you need to stop thinking like that.
“Thank you. Can you look at these for a sec?” He asks, standing up from his seat and spreading papers across his desk.
“Um… sure.” I go around to his side of the table, focusing on the documents and not the enticing scent of his Chanel cologne.
“The artists you contacted have come back with some design ideas and I need your creative eye.” I continue to only look at the table and not at him. Some of the designs are colourful, some are very minimalist, some have an excess of lights for what I presume is disco mode. These artists clearly aren’t all well rehearsed in the business of working for a client. Newbies.
“No… Definitely not this one… This one’s a maybe but I would ask for it to be redrawn, it’s very amateurish… No… God no… Maybe but it’s a little boring… No… This one could work…” I sift through the pile, plucking out the ones that I think have potential. This device is going to be revolutionary so it’s design must be as well.
I look over my chosen designs again, picking up a pen and adding a couple of notes. All the while, Mr Barnes hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. I get that weird feeling of when you just know that somebody is staring at you. When I snap my head upwards, I lock eyes with him. He’s focused, his steely eyes lost in mine. He’s also gotten closer; his body right next to mine and his face so close I can feel his every breath. Up this close, he’s even more handsome and I can see every little detail. He has crow’s feet crinkling the corners of his eyes, not uncommon in men his age, giving him a look of maturity and it’s safe to say it’s got me breathing harder. His irises are less grey, I can see it now, they’re sparkling blue. Like aquamarine with a splash of green. They shift from side to side, something easily missed from a distance but I don’t think we could be any closer right now. How long have we been staring at each other now?
The tension is palpable. Like I could reach out and grab it, tell it to kindly fuck off. It’s filling me with butterflies and I don’t like it. Mr Barnes is my boss, this is wrong… and yet… it feels just…
It feels right.
Instinctively, I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip and swallow hard, my eyes flicking dangerously to Mr Barnes’s own lips and back to his eyes. In that second, something switches. It’s as though somebody pressed the on switch.
“I don’t know about you Y/N but,” Bucky starts, his voice husky and low, “I’m far from drunk right now.”
“Bucky-” I barely get to speak before the magnets of attraction draw us together.
His hands immediately go to touch me, one holding my waist and the other tangled in my hair. His touch sends sparks across my skin. I pull him closer, running my fingers through his short dark locks. There’s nothing slow and steady about this kiss: it’s all pent up frustrations, neediness and pure passion. Our lips meld and work in tandem, neither of us seeming to get enough of one another. I can’t believe this is happening- again! And I’m not drunk, I am so not drunk. This is real. And it’s amazing. In a surprise twist, Bucky slides his hands to my waist and lifts me onto the desk making me squeal. In return, I tug on his hair a little earning a loud groan. It spurs me on and before I know it, my hands are fiddling with the buttons of Bucky’s shirt and-
“Incoming call from Thor Odinson.” Oh for fuck’s sake!
At the announcement from Mr Barnes’s AI assistant, we jump apart like we just gave each other an electric shock. I jump off the desk while he pushes to answer the call.
“Mr Odinson, what is it?” He asks, sounding a little exasperated. “Sorry to call so late but I’ve heard word from a friend of mine at Stark Industries. They know we’re working on a home assistant so they’re pushing for an earlier deadline.”
“What?! How did they find out?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t told. But this means that we’ll have to move forward faster as well. If we want to come out with ours first.”
“Right. We’ll have a meeting in the morning. Thank you.”
“Don’t you want to talk this through-”
“I’m a little busy at the moment but we’ll be able to discuss this all tomorrow. Keep an eye on your inbox.” Mr Barnes ends the call and sighs, turning to look at me. I straightened my clothes and fixed my hair while he was busy talking.
“I should probably… uh…” I gesture to the open doorway, stepping slowly towards it.
“Um… you don’t have to-”
“No, I have… stuff to do and uh… other stuff to do so…” I shuffle out awkwardly, walking away much faster once I’m out of his sight. Time for home I think.
How did I do that? I kissed my boss. Again! Why do I keep doing that? I’m a HR nightmare. But I wanted it to happen; I definitely wasn’t going to stop it. If it weren’t for the phone ringing, I would probably still be at the office on that table (or at Mr Barnes’s apartment). I need help, professional help.
Finally home, I slam the door (sorry neighbours) and slump down against it to the floor with a thump. If past me could see myself in this moment, she would be shaking her head and tutting at me disapprovingly. I’d say I need wine but if sober Y/N can make poor decisions on her own, I really should stay away from alcohol permanently. My phone beeps and steals my attention.
Nat- We still on for coffee tomorrow? x
Me- Of course xx
Nat- Great. See you there x
Me- Looking forward to it xx
I couldn’t tell Nat. Could I? She wouldn’t tell a soul but she’d be super judgemental. No, I can’t tell her. I need her advice though and badly. First world problems, huh?
A partir de hoy tenéis disponible una muestra de fotografías de mi serie Soñadores Urbanos expuesta en Madrid en Calle del Águila número 14, metro La Latina.
