Get Away
Ship: Anton Chigurh x Salem Nickle Newman (Secretary!AU)
Word Count: 1311
Summary: This AU isn't going to be elaborated on, it's just a oneshot I wanted to mess around with. Salem is a secretary for the people who often hire Anton and Anton takes a liking to him. Ending may be a little rushed. CWs for implied criminal activity, Karen behaviour (from another character), implied murder, cigarette mentions (no actual smoking described). Edit: Counting this as Prompt 19 on this SelfShipSeptember post.
Tag List: @futurewife @canongf
Salem Newman was a secretary, stationed in a large corporate building dealing with things he didn’t much care about. However, he was aware that it was only a front for much darker goings-on, and he still couldn’t bring himself to question things. If he was getting paid and being left alone, he was content to turn a blind eye. After all, it beat being stuck on a farm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
There was one positive to his job: a hitman by the name of Anton Chigurh, hired by one of the higher-ups in the building. Whenever he came in, Salem happened to be at the front desk of his boss’ floor. Of course, he’d never admit he enjoyed seeing Chigurh, and that was besides the fact Chigurh probably didn’t even acknowledge him outside of those brief check-ins at the desk.
On a pale Monday morning, Salem found himself gritting through a conversation with one of his coworkers over a cup of coffee. “Henrietta, if you’re questioning our employers, why don’t you just quit? Everyone’s gotta make a living, and if your current living doesn’t feel right, then maybe it’s a sign from the universe that you’ve gotta make a change.”
Henrietta recoiled slightly in offence. “That isn’t an option for me, Newman… you can’t tell me you’re happy with yourself, working this job…?”
Salem took a deep drink of his coffee. “Darlin’, I know things that’ll make you wish you quit months ago,” he spoke darkly. “If I were you, I’d feel lucky to even have a job, especially when we’re getting paid what we are.”
“What are you talking about--?”
At that moment, the elevator doors opened and familiar, dark brown, alligator-skin boots stepped onto the cream and grey carpet.
“Morning, Mr. Chigurh,” Salem spoke loudly, rising from his chair and resting his elbows on the tall counter in front of his desk, mug cupped loosely between his dainty hands. Anton approached the desk with a respectful nod.
“Newman.” His dark eyes swept toward Henrietta, who shrunk under his gaze. “And who’s this?”
She let out an odd sort of squeaking noise, tried to recover, then turned the corner and sped out of sight. Once Salem was sure she was far enough away, he spoke.
“A ninny of a coworker, that’s who. Nobody you need to worry about.” He took another sip of coffee and settled back down into his chair, “You go right on ahead, now, Mr. Archer’s all set up to see you.”
“Thank you.” The hitman gave the secretary an appreciative smile and strode forward, entering the office at the end of the hall. Salem watched him go, then sighed when the door closed behind him, returning his attention back to his coffee and the computer in front of him.
It was months before Salem saw him again, and on a very busy day at the office no less. Phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder, one hand busy with the computer and another jotting shorthand on a notepad, people rushing this way and that. Salem didn't notice his favourite patron for a good few minutes, especially not with the disgruntled man already in front of him, who now snapped his fingers in its face.
"Is Archer here or not, you lousy…?"
Salem slapped his hand over the receiver of the phone, hissing, "Would you shut the fuck up for two seconds, I told you this was an important call when you came in!"
The man's face flushed angrily as Salem returned his attention to his call.
"Don’t you tell me to shut up, you're the employee here, you're supposed to cater to me first! You're probably not even on a business call!"
"I believe Mr. Newman told you to shut your trap," Anton rumbled from behind, quickly catching the businessman's attention.
"Excuse me??"
Anton's eyes subtly flicked in annoyance as he spoke again with even more precise diction: "My friend asked you to shut your trap, sir, don't make me repeat myself again."
"And who the Hell are you??"
"Me?" Anton cracked a grin. "Oh, I'm nobody. Nobody at all. But the same can't be said for the man behind the counter, so I'd respect him if I were you."
With that, the hitman situated himself beside the opposite wall, comfortably leaning against it with his ankles crossed and a serene but guarded expression on his face, despite the fact there were empty chairs just to his left. Prickly silence filled the air between the two men, only punctuated by the clacking of chunky keyboard keys and Salem's short answers to whomever he was speaking to on the phone.
The call eventually ran on so long that the initial man stormed off, growling about telling whoever was funding Salem's paycheck about the incident. Anton remained unphased, content to watch Salem work for the time being. When they finally got off the phone, they dropped it into its cradle and rested their head on the desk, hands tangling in the back of their hair.
Anton paused just a moment longer before approaching the desk and clearing his throat. Salem's head immediately popped up, eyes screwed shut and face flushed. "What, what is it, what do you want, can I not have two seconds today to breathe..?!" He snapped, voice breaking before opening his eyes and startling. "Oh, Christ, I-I'm sorry, I didn’t know it was you, Mr. Chigurh…"
Anton held up his hand briefly. "No need for apologies." He removed his wallet and placed down a twenty-dollar bill. "Get yourself something from the convenience store on the corner."
Salem rubbed his eyes under his glasses before staring at the money, furrowing his brow. "Mr. Chigurh, you don’t need to be giving me money, I've got enough for the vending machine in the breakroom…"
Anton nudged the bill closer in an insistent manner. "Go down to the convenience store. I promise you won't regret it."
Salem scratched the back of his head. "Well…"
"Don’t hesitate, just take it."
"Alright, I will!" Salem stood and picked up the money. "I'll go right now, since you're being so pushy…" It smiled shyly. "I think someone's still in with Mr. Archer, but you know the door so I trust you to keep an eye on it."
"Yes, sir."
"Alrighty then. Thank you, Mr. Chigurh."
Another two months passed after that before Salem saw Anton again, this time later in the afternoon than usual. Salem stood beside his desk, thumbing the top of a cigarette pack and glancing up and down the hall, looking for the hitman and taking a small, relieved breath when the elevator doors opened with a ding.
“Oh good, I almost thought you weren’t coming. Bit late for you, ain’t it? My break started five minutes ago but I didn’t want to keep you waiting--”
“Take your break, Newman. Mr. Archer and I already talked over the phone.”
The two briefly nodded at each other before Salem went off, not questioning the moment and simply looking forward to having his lunch. When he returned to his desk, he was surprised to find Anton waiting for him.
“So, how’d it go?” Salem asked casually. Anton gave him a particular look.
“You tell me.”
An odd feeling enveloped Salem: While its stomach grew cold and goose pimples sprung up on its back, its heartbeat quickened in abnormal excitement. “Oh.” It was only now that Salem noticed the long gun with the hefty silencer Anton carried.
“I want you to come with me. Your path doesn’t end behind this desk.”
Salem swallowed. “What if I’m perfectly happy where I am, Mr. Chigruh?”
“You aren’t. I see it in the shadows under your eyes.”
They laughed in a shaky manner, blood colouring their cheeks. “I’m not.” They admitted. “I’m not.”
Anton silently offered his hand. Salem took it.
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