you had always known you were your boss’s favorite. he had just made it…more obvious, recently. giving you special attention, compliments, less work and flexible hours. which was very rare for him because he was…well, that just not who he was. so something was going on. you don’t really know. but it’s definitely something. a tension. a void of unspoken words.

you’re at your desk and your boss, bucky, comes up to your desk with a stack of papers and leans down over your shoulder, setting them over your keyboard where you were originally working. he’s so close to you that you can smell his cologne. he smelled like bourbon and pine trees. it was somewhat addicting. you swallow the lump in your throat as his husky and low voice murmurs in your ear, “you’ll get these done for me, won’t you, little one?”