America x Reader - Work Overload

A tired, overworked (name) stared at the screen in front of her. Sometimes she wondered if her boss gave her more work than the rest of her team or if the words were just fusing together- her head tipped forward and she promptly jerked awake, her (e/c) eyes bleary with unshed tears. Glancing painfully at the clock, her stinging eyes took a moment or two to register it as 3 a.m. Great, she just had a few hours before she needed to get ready for work. Not enough to finish her work and sleep.

By complete accident, she saw the edge of her bed and her gaze drifted further until she was staring at her pillow and blanket. What if she took a break, maybe for a few minutes? She was wearing her pyjamas anyway. Her aching back and drooping eyes seemed to agree but something kept her in place. She spent almost ten minutes in a state of wakeful sleep, sitting upright with her eyes half-closed and body swaying like a tree during a storm. She felt her head tip towards her desk, giving up... until she heard a strange noise: her front door opening and closing silently.

All traces of sleep vanished as she strained her ears to try and pick up any other sounds. Her husband wasn’t supposed to be back until much later, when there was light in the sky, so who opened the door? Several possibilities rushed through her mind when she heard soft padding of feet. The one thought that kept blaring in her mind was pretty obvious; murderer.

Now, it should be said that (Name) had a hyperactive imagination, not as bad as her husband, but it did prove a problem sometimes. So how was she sure that she hadn’t imagined that? Well, she could hear the distinct sound of feet on her living room floor, even from her room on the second floor. So she could safely say it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her.

Rushing out of her chair, she darted to her door, shut and locked it, making extra sure to be as quiet as possible. Then, looking around her room for a place to hide, she decided to hide inside her closet. Pretty obvious, but she didn’t really have much other choice.

And of course she left her phone out.

She must have spent hours in the closet amid her clothes, shivering and praying her husband, Alfred, would come to save her. The murderer was making a lot of noise, probably to scare her. Stomping around and sometimes even laughing maniacally. Her door knob was shaken several times and the murderer even hit the wooden parts. She was shaking by that point but didn’t want to take the chance of coming out of the closet in case the intruder managed to get in at that time.

All thoughts revolved around two things, Alfred and making as little noise as possible. (Name) wished now more than ever that she had told Alfred not to go on that stupid trip, he could have had more sense than to hide in a closet without having called the police. One thing bothered her though, how come the murderer didn’t just go away, bother someone else? It may have been because she was very tired, but she had no sense of time. It felt like days or was it minutes? Wait, wasn’t it hours? No, it had only been an hour, she was sure of it. Or was she?

Bothered with the uncertainty and deciding to take a chance, (Name) opened the closet door slowly noticing one important factor a bit too late. The house was silent. Too quiet. And she was now staring into the crazed green eyes of her knife-wielding, British boss. She wanted to scream but she could do nothing except stare. She saw Mr. Kirkland’s lips move and heard a voice that did not belong to him speaking for him.

“Wake up, (name), wake up!”

She shrieked as she felt her body jolt upright, her breathing rapid and her heart thrashing against her ribs. She felt strong arms wrap around her frame as a soothing voice spoke calming words. Soon she had calmed down enough to realise the person hugging her was Alfred, his blue eyes showing his evident concern. She also noticed that he was wearing a suit so… glancing at the clock she groaned and let her head fall against her husband’s shoulder, startling him. It was ten in the morning, maybe her boss would go on a murderous rampage.

“Should I ask why you were sleeping on your desk or what the nightmare was about?” his tone was light as he pet (name)’s head, weaving his fingers through her (h/c) hair in a soothing manner. He had only gone for two nights and (Name) was having bad dreams?

“I didn’t do my work and I had a nightmare that my boss was going to kill me. Which he might just do seeing as I’m going to be very late.” she admitted sheepishly, knowing the blond would laugh. As expected, she heard Alfred chuckle and felt the rumble through his strong bones, relief washing over him.

“You sound like a kid.” he teased, “Besides, Arthur wouldn’t actually kill you, I think.”

“It’s not my fault he gives me too much work!” (name) complained into his shoulder, refusing to look at his twinkling blue-eyes. She knew it sounded lame, but she liked her job (most of the time) and wanted to keep it.

“Want me to talk to him?” Alfred hummed into his wife’s hair, his cheerful tone dying down to a more relaxed one, “If you’re getting nightmares about him then there must be something going on.”

“No! He’ll just give me even more work! Or worse, he’ll worry about me!” Alfred laughed at this before nudging (name) and getting her to lift her face up.

Cupping her face gently, Alfred caught her (e/c) gaze and sent her his most winning smile, the one that made her smile as well. They shared a tender moment before Alfred got up and helped (name) up as well. She tried to protest but the yawn that came out didn’t do much to help her case. Easing her into bed, Alfred went to change, coming back to close the curtains he had opened on his return and joined the drowsy (h/c)ette. Curling up against his body, (name) quickly fell asleep, her breathing gentle. Pressing a soft kiss to his wife’s temple, Alfred joined her as well; formulating plans to save her from any reprimanding she was sure to get while saving the world in his dreams.