Stiles sat back in his chair and wondered if 4 hours sleep was enough to keep him going through another nightshift. He'd had dinner with his dad (Chicken: Grilled. Veg: Steamed. Complaints about food: Minimal) and crashed on the sofa before he'd been woken by his phone alarm, screaming at him that he had an hour and a half to shower and get to work.
Now, sitting in his chair, looking blankly at the NO CALLS he'd taken in the last two hours, he was starting to drift off. Sunday nights were always dead. No one ever thought to call because they assumed that there would be no one there to answer the calls.
Stiles was bored. Seriously bored. He'd written up his call logs already, sent the email to HR with his logged hours to show he'd covered for Greenberg (and also because last time Greenberg forgot and Stiles ended up working a full weekend for free and Stiles had to threaten him with bodily hard if he didn't pay him back), so now he had nothing to do. At all.
The phone line beeped, the only warning you got when a new call came through.
"Good Evening Tardis Industries, you're speaking to Stiles, how can I help?" He rattled off, not even bothering to sit up at his desk properly, manic smile on his face.
"I called last night about my laptop." A female voice said, sounding frazzled.
"Ah, Miss Potts, looks like you're having a few glitches." Stiles said, losing the manic smile and slipping without thinking into 'concerned but professional' because... well... after 5 years of sitting at this same desk, he was the king of phone voices.
"I know, right?" The woman groaned. "I'm never connecting to an unknown wifi again."
"If you give me your account information, I'll see if there is anyone in IT who can take your call." He said, 'amused but businesslike'.
"Thanks!"
He clicked hold and dialled down to the basement. One click and:
"Hale."
"Carl, your favourite SKS is on the phone again."
"Are you serious?" The gruff voice on the other end of the line said. "How many issues can one laptop have before you just get a new one?" He seemed to pause. "It's not Carl either."
"Carlos? Cartlon?" Stiles shot back, instantly.
"No." Double click, the call waiting was picked up.
Duration: 2 mins
Name: Stilinski
Reason For Call: OGSI
Derek read the notes as soon as they were up – Ongoing Software Issue.
When he started, the other guys in IT had told him that the Drones on the main call lines had their own shorthand for calls – gave him a printed out sheet that had hundreds of codes and information. The call log could only be 150 characters long, so you really needed to condense an issue down. Miss Potts had called 5 times in two days, and her Call Log was starting to look like a WW2 code breakers wet dream.
The list didn't have everything on it, but the most common ones. He'd taken the list home last night and read it carefully. There were handwritten notes on the photocopied sheet, and from what he could see, some people used certain codes for different things.
OGSI (with variants handwritten in a spider scrawl along the side) was the first one that Derek had learned because the guys would send him all the long, complicated problems when he'd first started. He assumed it was some kind of hazing at first, then he realised that they were just lazy assholes who didn't want to deal with a long call.
A long call like this one.
"I swear to God, this computer is a piece of crap." Miss Potts was complaining into his ear as he wirelessly connected to her system.
He'd been on the phone for nearly an hour, trying to talk her through some simple diagnosis, but he'd reached a dead end – and was now taking matters into his own hands.
"I can see the cursor move."
"That's me from this end." He replied, trying to keep his voice calm. He hated this job. He clicked around, typing and running a few tests, till he found out what the issue was. Porn.
It was alwaysporn.
Duration: 1 hour 13 mins
Name: Hale
Reason For Call: DPV
Stiles laughed out loud when he read over the call logs. Damn Porno Virus. Technically, Hale should have used 'UOSV' (Unknown Origin Software Virus) which was what management would have told him to use, but he'd obviously got the Drones Handbook and was using their codes. Sweet. Stiles had made half of those codes up himself, he could work with this...
Derek eased his apartment door shut and sent up a silent prayer that the little noises of him moving about wouldn't wake the newborn twins next door. Their mom, a single parent who worked two jobs and slept about as much as Derek, had actually apologised to him when he moved in. The walls were thin, and sound travelled. He could hear her soothing them to sleep, singing 'Hey Jude' softly. He could hear when one of them woke up, that sleepy cry that would soon develop into a full blown scream.
He just really wanted to sleep before his swing shift started.
He should never have taken the weekend slot, but he needed the extra cash. Laura's... retreat... cost him all his savings and there was still another 3 months to go before she was allowed to leave, and with the cushion of his savings gone, he was feeling pretty exposed. He needed all the money he could get.
Which was why he'd had an interview last Friday for the bar keeping job at the bar, Jungle, a few miles away. He would be able to walk there and back unless the weather was shitty, so he'd save on gas – always a good thing.
He was hoping that he'd come home to a message telling him either way if he'd got the job or not. He had kinda thought he'd got it, he knew what he looked like and he'd made sure to wear the white vest that showed off his arms. He'd been hit on enough by both sexes to know where his strengths were.
Shame that his sparkling personality let him down after that.
He figured some people should just cut him a break on that, because he was doing okay for all the shit that he'd gone through. He'd finished High School, gone to an okay college, got a good degree (useless in this job market, but a good one nonetheless) and held down a job.
He'd like to think his parents would have been proud of him. Proud of Laura, too, for finally getting the help that she needed. He figured they'd maybe understand her better, saw how she hid her pain from a kid brother who was now, as far as anyone cared, her responsibility.
No wonder she'd cracked.
He couldn't think about Laura, not when he was cranky and tired, feeling a bit low because he'd been waiting for a call about a job that looked like it wasn't gonna happen.
Then he remembered that he'd be back at work tomorrow and maybe Stiles would have run out of 'C' names and move onto the 'D' ones, and when he did... Well... he hadn't thought that far ahead. He kicked off his shoes and slacks – he still didn't feel comfortable in 'casual weekends' at work – and fell face first on the single bed that had been there when he moved in.
Stiles slept through his alarm, which was something he neverdid.
He launched his body out of bed with the speed of 'Is that the fucking time?!' which he was sure was some kind of freakish survival of the fittest type move, and almost got to his knees when he remembered that his dad had brought his work clothes over – pressed and everything.
"Thank you, father of mine!" He called out to the empty room as he dove into the shower and didn't even wait for the water to warm up.
Skipping breakfast was something he did most mornings, but of course on the one day he didn't have time to eat, he was starving.
"I am never covering for you again." He muttered under his breath as he ran down the stairs of the apartment block. "Never again."
He was half way to work when Scott started calling.
"Dude, we're in the staffroom, where the hell are you?"
"I'm running late." Stiles said, loud enough so his mobile phone's hands free would pick it up as he drove.
"Aw, dude!" Scott moaned. "I told you not to log onto WoW in the morning, you like, lose all track of time. How far away are you?"
"10 minutes!"
"Hurry up, Jackson's pissed about something. Looks like someone crapped in his lucky charms or something."
Stiles groaned, hitting the end call button and driving just a little too fast. He'd take the ticket (if he got one, because being the son of the sheriff was good for something at least) if it meant he wasn't going to have to deal with a pissed off Jackson, who liked to share his moods.
The double click was an internal call, and Stiles wasn't expecting it.
"Uh, hi?" He said, wondering what he'd done wrong. No one ever got an internal call, because they showed up on your call logs, and shit like that was always flagged with Jackson.
"Stilinski, Stiles?" An unamused voice said, and his call screen was still just flashing 'internal' rather than a department ID.
"Yes, that's me."
"Could you please come to room 501. Bring your call logs and times sheets."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Yes, of course." He said, voice as calm as he could manage.
Duration: 1 min
Name: Stilinski
Reason For Call: Internal, Room 501
Stiles had never been fired before. He'd left a few jobs before, but he'd never been fired. He'd printed out his call logs (Had he not been picking up as many calls as anyone else? Scott almost always had his number locked, how was that not being flagged?) and his time sheets (He was never late. Never sick. He covered for loads of people!) under the worried eyes of his friends.
The fifth floor was HR. Nothing good ever came from HR. They told you about your new tax codes which lowered your month end pay, or how you're holiday entitlement was less this year cause of some bullshit change, or they fired you.
He'd made it in to work in time, hell, he'd even had time to grab the slice of toast that Scott hadn't eaten before the first buzzer had gone.
Stiles was inches away from panicking in the elevator, with its stupid 'calming' music that was grating on his nerves.
Was it the Drone Codes? Fuck. He'd been using his own codes for so long that everyone else used them now too. Did HR think that they should go back to longhand? Fuck.
Fuck.
What had he done?
When the metal doors opened, Stiles was seriously questioning if he should just punch the ground floor and leave, save this faceless man on the phone the time it was going to take to fire him.
His feet felt like they were made of lead. He was glad he'd pressed the black suit pants and white shirt today, so he looked slightly more presentable. He stepped into the hallway. They had carpet up here, instead of the linoleum flooring that was everywhere on his floor. Not that it was important, but he noticed. He was shaking, eyes fixating on everything at once. They had those horrible prints that looked like they'd been mass produced to give the place a 'welcoming' feel, pale watercolour leaves in vases that looked like they had been left in direct sun and had gotten bleached. Maybe they'd been bought like that.
He knocked on the door, first on the left, with a hand that was tight and shaking, mind trying to do too many things at once.
"Enter."
Stiles pushed open the door and walked in.
Oh.
Fuck.
"Hale."
"Got some chick on the phone, notes say she's spoken to you before. SKS or whatever." A female voice was saying, and Derek rolled his eyes. He knew that not everyone was good with computers, but this woman was pushing the limits. "It's Erica."
"Her name is Potts."
"No, idiot. I'm Erica."
"Right."
"I sit beside Stiles."
"Okay."
"He's been hauled upstairs." She said, sounding... gossipy. Derek wasn't sure if he was allowed to start pressing for more information. It wasnt like they were friends or anything. He hoped it wasn't too bad. HR were for all kinds of things, right?
"Why?"
"No one knows. He was working last night, and these logs say you were too. Anything happen?"
"No."
"Jesus, talkative much." She burst out. "Look, Stiles has never been called up before, so something must have happened." She was obviously waiting for Derek to say something, because after a few seconds she let out a sharp exhale. "Okay, so if you don't want to tell me, fine. Take the call."
And then she was gone.
Fuck.
"Hale here." He said, and was rewarded with another hour long call from Miss Potts and her Laptop of Doom.
Duration: 1 hour, 17mins
Name: Hale
Reason For Call: System Error.
Hi guys!
I don't think I've ever had so many reviews on a new story in my life – I woke up to so many notifications I was almost late for work myself reading them! So awesome. I feel awesome!
Today was actually not super great. We've had pretty bad weather here and rolling black-outs, so my chapter is a little shorter than normal (and this is the fourth 'autosaved' version!) because I just couldn't keep my PC alive long enough to get into the groove of writing.
Snow is awesome. Sometimes. Not today. Welcome to Scotland.
So many familiar faces (avatars? Names?) popping up that I just want to wave to you all and hug you all and just generally be super happy to see you all. Thanks for reading, reviewing and following!
So...
Yeah.
Something is up with Stiles at work.
Something is not so awesome with Laura (but she is alive!)
(Oh, and in season 6 of Supernatural, Sammy has no soul and Dean has just found out and punched the shit out of his face. It was equal parts awesome and 'noooooooo sammmmmy'. And Cas. There was Cas. I love Cas. Did I mention that before?)
Right, sorry. Going.
Love you all.
