(1)

"Yes okay, Lydia!" Stiles asserted down the phone, ending the call before she could argue further. He momentarily felt a little guilty, considering Lydia was bunged up in bed with the flu, but he was doing this interview as a favour to her, so he shook the guilt from his conscience with ease. Besides, he'd left her in the good hands of his famous chicken soup, which always made him feel better when he was ill, although he doubted Lydia appreciated the sentiment as much as he'd hoped for. Shifting his rusty jeep up a gear, Stiles tried to relax in his seat as he braced himself for the long drive ahead to New York City, where he would be interviewing the elusive Derek Hale; CEO and founder of Hale Enterprises. Stiles wondered how Lydia had managed to get the interview. He'd never really seen Mr. Hale actively engage in interviews, no matter how much the press hounded him. Although he had assured Lydia that he was fine and knew what he was doing, Stiles had no idea who Derek Hale was, just that he was a business person and stinkin' rich! Whatever, he had a pile of questions Lydia had compiled for him on the passenger seat, so he figured he'd just read off those to get the answers she needed. She'd even put them in a plastic wallet for him.

Stiles did feel bad for Lydia, considering she'd worked so hard to get this interview and now she was too ill to conduct it. Ironically, Stiles thought, it was probably the stress of pursuing Mr. Hale which caused Lydia to fall ill. He knew it hadn't been an easy task for her to get him to agree to sit down and talk. However, Stiles had reluctantly agreed to take her place when she came into his room begging him, with her strawberry blonde hair in disarray and her voice tainted with sickness. To be honest, he'd just wanted to get out of the house and away from her so he didn't catch her illness. It was all very last-minute, and Stiles hoped it wouldn't show when he got there. From what he'd heard, he got the impression that Mr. Hale wasn't one to suffer fools gladly.

Having spent hours singing along to his favourite songs, Stiles finally reached the outskirts of the city and quickly realised why most of the population favoured public transport. Traffic was congesting the streets, mainly canary yellow taxis, so much so that his jeep was crawling along the road, and Stiles was sure he could walk to his destination faster. Rerouting his iPhone to find the nearest public car park, Stiles quickly changed direction and found himself in a massive multi story building with occupied parking bays everywhere. Struggling to find somewhere to park his jeep, Stiles continuing driving around the building until the fifth floor, where he finally found a space, which he carefully reversed into. Stepping out of his jeep, Stiles grabbed the information he needed from the passenger seat, and took a moment to admire his parking ability.

The car park was one which didn't need payment until exiting, so Stiles stepped out of the building on the ground floor, to find in the time it had taken him to park his jeep, it was now raining. The steady onslaught of water droplets assaulted his face as he zipped up his red hoodie and threw the hood over his brown buzz cut trying to stay dry and presentable for the interview. Holding his iPhone in his sleeve, Stiles changed the directions to Hale Enterprise's to suit a pedestrian, and found he was only a 15 minute walk away. Navigating the streets, Stiles took the chance to admire the city he had heard so much about, and decided he was right all along, and he could definitely see himself living here in the future.

Downtrodden with rain, Stiles approached the giant glass building, which looked equally intimidating and modern. He didn't exactly have time to ponder over how different it looked to all the other buildings he'd seen in the city so far, as at that moment a flash of lightning bolted across the sky and Stiles knew the thunder would quickly follow. The glass doors opened automatically as he approached them and Stiles shielded himself from the rain inside the building. Throwing his hood back and unzipping the hoodie, Stiles took it off, knowing that he would look far more presentable in just his plain white t-shirt with the blue collar, which, although plain, was at least dry. There was simply nothing he could do about his skinny jeans, which were sticking to his thighs horribly, making his pale skin chafe.

As he walked over to the front desk, an attractive blonde woman greeted Stiles, with her perfect skin and manicured nails. She looked up at him expectantly, asking, "How may I help you sir?" in a sweet way which didn't quite suit her appearance.

Clutching his hoodie closer to his chest, Stiles replied, "I'm here to see Mr. Hale."

"May I ask if you have an appointment, sir?" The woman asked, looking up at Stiles before scanning through the latest edition iMac in front of her, her eyes quickly shifting across the screen as her nails tapped away at the keyboard.

"I'm Mr. Stilinski, filling in for Ms. Martin, who's currently indisposed," Stiles informed the woman in a clipped manner, as he wasn't liking her tone. She was looking at him like he had wandered into the wrong building. Although he couldn't blame her, he didn't like it when people made him feel inferior.

The woman's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah! Yes, I have Ms. Martin's appointment here. Go on ahead, Mr. Hale's office is on the top floor. I'll send him a memo about the change of interviewer." She pointed to an elevator across the large foyer and Stiles smiled thankfully at her in return, feeling he may have been too quick to judge her. Making his way into the elevator, Stiles pressed the button for the top floor. The large metallic doors closed him into the small space, but his nerves had gotten better in recent years, so he was able to control the anxiety that threatened to shoot through him.

After a long and boring ascent filled with classic elevator music, the doors reopened and another young blonde woman greeted Stiles, sat at a desk in front of the only door on the top floor. "Go right ahead, Mr. Stilinski," she smiled. "Mr. Hale will see you now."

A horrifying rush of anxiety threatened to paralyse Stiles at the anticipation her words created, but he pushed through it as he made his way to the only door in the room. The mahogany wood was embellished with a golden plaque which simply stated, 'D.H - CEO'. Stiles gulped and took a moment to steady his breathing, before knocking on the door, waiting a moment, and then entering.

The room he had stepped into was very open, yet dominated by a mahogany desk (he was sensing a theme here) in front of an interactive whiteboard which quickly hibernated upon Stiles entering the room. Stiles' gaze raked across the rest of the room, to the shuttered glass wall which simultaneously acted as a window to the city's landscape and over to the singular plant in the corner, looking very lonely, in Stiles' opinion. Finally, his doe brown eyes landed on the man sat at the desk, who stared at Stiles for a moment, as if he couldn't figure out what he was doing in his office. Squirming under Mr. Hale's gaze, Stiles clutched his damp hoodie closer to his body and broke eye contact.

Finally, Mr. Hale stood up from his desk and approached Stiles.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stilinski," Mr. Hale greeted him, holding out his hand as he reached Stiles. Mr. Hale was only an inch or so taller than Stiles, but he still found himself looking up at him and into his glinting green eyes. The immediate vibe Stiles got from the man stood before him was dominant, possessive and arrogant. He was clearly well-built underneath a green suit which seemed tailored to him perfectly, and his dark hair and stubble added to his image of masculinity. Stiles' first impression was that this man had broken a lot of hearts. Not somebody he'd want to be around. Nevertheless, he smiled in response and took Mr. Hale's hand, shaking it once before adding,

"Please, call me Stiles."

Another look of confusion flashed across Mr. Hale's face, but Stiles dismissed it as Hale nodded his agreement and indicated that Stiles should take the seat facing his across the desk. As Stiles made his way towards the seat, Mr. Hale held his arm out like a barricade, blocking him.

"Let me take this," he urged, pulling the damp hoodie from Stiles' grasp before he could object, and walking over to a coat stand by the lonely plant in the corner of the room. Stiles was hovering by his seat, waiting for Mr. Hale to return to his before he sat, but before the entrepreneur had reached his seat he motioned for Stiles to sit. Stiles did so. He placed his notes on his lap in front of him, and when he looked up, Mr. Hale was sat on the desk in front of him, rather than his seat on the other side. Stiles hadn't been expecting the man to be in such a close proximity, so he instinctively pulled his chair back slightly. He could have sworn he saw a smirk cross Mr. Hale's face when he did so, but he wasn't sure.

Mr. Hale sat with his legs apart, and Stiles found his gaze raking over the man's form, hovering momentarily around the crotch area. Hale's trousers weren't tight but they fit his form well, and Stiles could just about make out-

"So you're here on behalf on Ms. Martin?"

"Yes," Stiles responded quickly, shocked by where his train of thought had led him. Everything about the man in front of him was drawing Stiles in, and Stiles was sure he was aware of it. He oozed self-confidence and awareness.

"I assume you have some questions prepared for me?" Mr. Hale pressed, when Stiles failed to elaborate further. Stiles' saw Mr. Hale's thick, dark eyebrows rise in expectation, and was flustered as a result.

Shaking his head, Stiles forced himself into professional mode. It didn't matter how hot Mr. Hale was, he was just going to get the interview done and get out of there. However, none of the pictures Stiles had seen of Mr. Hale could prepare him for his full-blown beauty in person. Pulling the sheets of paper out of the plastic wallets, Stiles launched into the interview.

"You've amassed a great empire at such a young age Mr. Hale-"

"Thank you Stiles, but that's not exactly a question,"

"It would have been, had you allowed me to finish before interrupting," Stiles countered, the words out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about them. Shit! He didn't want to anger Mr. Hale and ruin Lydia's interview. Moving quickly past his impoliteness, Stiles continued without making eye contact, "As I was saying, you've amassed a great empire at such a young age, Mr. Hale. What tips would you give to other aspiring entrepreneurs?"

"Be ruthless," Mr. Hale answered simply, his voice cold and his impenetrable gaze locked on Stiles.

"And how would you say you've managed to retain control of your businesses and assets as your empire has expanded?"

"By having a select circle of business associates I can trust implicitly."

Stiles was intrigued by Mr. Hale's choice of words as he continued asking the questions written down on the paper, even if he didn't understand Lydia's reasoning behind them. As Stiles read through the questions, he could feel the atmosphere between himself and Mr. Hale intensifying. Additionally, the questions started to move away from Mr. Hale's business antics and more towards his much sought after personal life.

"Now, you have been described as a 'recluse who hates to be interviewed'. How would you respond to this growing reputation in the media of yours?"

"I think simply by doing this interview I'm refuting that," Derek responded professionally, with a smile that coerced Stiles to smile in response. "I simply respect my privacy."

Stiles nodded in understanding before continuing, "It is my understanding that you have rarely, if ever, been photographed with family members or romantic partners of any kind. Is there a particular reason for this?"

For the first time in the interview, Mr. Hale took a few moments to think about his response, and the pause made Stiles realise just how intrusive this interview was becoming. He silently cursed Lydia for having the courage to ask these questions in an interview and then be too ill to conduct it for herself. Mr. Hale simply shook his head in answer to the question, remaining uncharacteristically silent.

"Are you gay, Mr. Hale?" The words were out of Stiles' mouth before he had really registered what he was asking. He looked up from the paper, and saw Hale's eyes had widened in shock, then his eyebrows descended into a frown and his defined jaw line tensed.

"No," he answered curtly.

"I'm sorry sir, that's just what it says on the paper," Stiles attempted to explain, indicating to the paper on his lap. At his use of the word 'sir', Mr. Hale's expression changed once again, before softening inexplicably. Although the questions ended there, Stiles didn't want the interview to end on such a sour note.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Hale," he expressed, standing from his chair so that they were once again level. He didn't like the feeling of inequality that was protruding out of him in Mr. Hale's presence. "I'm sure Lydi- Ms. Martin will find your answers useful, and the rest of the public… illuminating."

Mr. Hale finally extricated himself from the table, so he was standing uncomfortably close to Stiles, who had to take a step back to shake his hand for the second time that afternoon. Mr. Hale was certainly comfortable with invading Stiles' personal space, that was for sure.

As they shook hands, Stiles attempted to pull his hand away, but Mr. Hale's grip tightened around his fingers to the point of it almost being painful. His grip caught Stiles' attention, who looked up at the older man.

"What are your lunch plans?"

"What?"

"What are your lunch plans?" Hale repeated, slightly slower this time, as if he hadn't just asked one of the most arbitrary questions in the world, and Stiles was just struggling to understand what he had said.

"I was planning on grabbing a burger and some curly fries on the way back to Boston," Stiles answered, taken aback by Hale's forwardness.

"I can't have that," Hale dictated, pulling Stiles by the hand and towards the door. "You're having lunch with me." He led Stiles over to the door and was about to open it when Stiles protested.

"Mr. Hale! My hoodie!" Not losing his hoodie seemed to be the only thing Stiles could focus on during this hurricane of developments. He didn't really understand what was happening. His voice came out much higher pitched and squeakier than he would have liked, but Hale removed himself from between Stiles and the door frame with a sigh and strode across the room to retrieve Stiles' hoodie from the coat rack. Upon his return, he opened the door for Stiles, who hesitated. Just as he was about to step out of Hale's office and into the foyer where he was sure the blonde desk assistant would be staring at them both, he felt Hale's hand clasp around his bicep.

"Oh, and Stiles? Call me Derek."