Disclaimer:
I own nothing, and with good reason.
Dillinger.
It's hardly an unrecognizable name.
Even if you weren't directly involved in the famed Incident of '82, you knew it from the news reports later. The full spreads in the paper with pictures of an angry looking man shielding his son's face from the limelight.
It was understandable to the whole company why, despite his impressive resume, Mackey was unsure about hiring him.
Well, not him, but his son.
Edward Dillinger Junior.
With another quick glance at the file, Richard not-so-gently flipped it shut and leaned back in his expensive chair.
Of course, mentioning the cost of the chair normally wouldn't be relevant, but here it was. You see, everything of Mackey's was at it's newest and most expensive. People had dead skin, Mackey just flaked crumpled dollars. But the point of the matter was that the boy was late, which was already enough to make him want to cancel the interview, but just as he went to tell his secretary—the thirteenth that month—there was a knock at his door.
"Come in." He says without interest, ready now to hear the young Dillinger out for about five minutes before sending him on his way.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Come the response through the door as it opens, deep and smooth in all the right ways, and suddenly the executive wonders if he's still asleep and the whole day has just been one elaborate sex dream. "I got lost on my way to your office."
There were words, he's sure, and he's meant to respond. But the moment his eyes take in that creamy skin, fluffy hair, and strong scruffy jaw…Mackey forgets what speaking even is.
His voice was gorgeous, but his face was divine, and while he usually felt bad for so obviously looking someone over, he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for this.
"It's..alright.." He says at last, gesturing toward the chair across from him. "Things happen."
For a moment he's sure he catches a smirk, and his stomach does a flip at the prospect of him—Junior—appreciating the attention.
It was too perfect.
Junior was sure he was toast when he hit the fifteen minute late mark. He wasn't devastated about it, there were actual job offers he could take, but he'd wanted this one.
His whole life he'd cringed when he introduced himself, and there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to remove any memory of his father's mistakes from people's minds.
The quickest way to do that was simple, work his way up through this particular company, make a name for himself, and become the Dillinger of ENCOM.
And here he was, sitting across from the man who could give him his job…. As he was eyed like a steak at the state zoo's lion exhibit.
Eddie didn't like to use his looks to get him what he wanted, in fact he generally frowned on the practice, but he also knew that he was good enough for this job, and the only way he was going to get was to play this up.
So he rested his arms on the desk, leaning forward just enough to be enticing without being obvious, and pretended to listen to this douchebag—Mackey?—ramble on for the sixth time with a look of utterly rapt attention on his face. "Those are impressive figures, Mr. Mackey." He all but murmured, his eyelashes fluttering as the light caught the other man's gaudy watch and hit his eye.
He was well-aware that he'd botched this interview, but he also knew that telling the gorgeous hipster that there was a chance he wasn't getting the job would be ridiculous. He no doubt had other offers, and..well..
To be totally honest, Mackey needed to know he'd see the younger man again. So he promised him the job and watched with..growing excitement..as his eyes lit up and he smiled. "That sounds great, Richard." The name comes out like a purr, and as Mackey notes how the other man catches the hitch in his breath he realizes..
This is probably the worst mistake he's ever made.