Stiles's senses went on immediate high alert as he ducked his head blow the wooden divider, acting as if he were diligently typing away. From the other side of the room, Stiles could heart the elevator close and a pair of footsteps make their way around the Design Department. With his heart racing, Stiles sunk further into his seat, trying to disappear into himself. His face was beat red and it bled down to his neck, even descending beneath the collar of his shirt.
"This is Jackson, our Senior Design Marketer," Finstock introduced with a slight pride clear in his tone, though he'd never say such a thing aloud. Stiles personally thought Jackson was a prick, but even he had to begrudgingly admit that the guy was pretty impressive. He had designed much of the security systems used for the local bank, pending it to banks across the state and country wide.
"Nice to meet you." Jackson must have stood up to shake Derek's hand, sounding much nicer than he actually was. To those who didn't know Jackson, one might have even mistaken him as a gentleman. If Stiles wasn't dying of shame, he'd have rolled his eyes at the fakeness of it all.
"This is Erika," Finstock continued to introduce.
Erika greeted Derek kindly. Stiles could hear the soft swish of her golden hair as she flipped it across her shoulder. In his mind, Stiles could see her hold out her hand to be shaken, pointing her long, sharp fingernails down to show off the professional paint and design.
"And this is Stiles," Finstock finished the set of introductions in a rush. He knew Stiles would make a fool of himself if given much time. Usually, Stiles wouldn't have cared and he would have plowed forward unabashedly. As it was, he squeaked, "Hey" with his head still low and pretending to be working too to even be distracted by the presence of the boss. Unfortunately, it didn't deter Derek from stepping right beside Stiles's station. An elbow rested on the divider. In the reflection of the computer screen, Stiles could see Derek leaning towards him with a smirk and glistening green eyes.
It was obvious that Derek recognized him, but Stiles still couldn't bring himself to look towards him. It was hard enough to breathe as it was; he'd probably stop breathing altogether if he had to meet the man's gaze straight on.
Vaguely, Stiles was aware that the others had started talking again: Jackson and Erika doing their best to vie for the boss' attention. For once, Stiles almost felt grateful for their need to be the center of attention, except that Derek wasn't falling for their antics. Though, he politely nodded and hummed at the appropriate moments of their stories, his eyes and smile were still directed towards Stiles rather than at them.
"Would you care for a coffee?" Jackson suddenly asked Derek sweetly. It was the first sentence after Finstock's introductions that Stiles heard coherently. That was probably because Stiles had become accustomed to respond to similar request. As expected, the next phrase out of Jackson's mouth was, "Stiles, you mind getting coffee for the boss?"
As the junior design member, Stiles often got coffee for the team. It was even something he might have complained about on the plane, bemoaning about how his co-workers treated him like he was a servant, and also how the coffee tasted like dog shit anyways. He may have even mentioned how he had a tendency of spitting in Jackson's coffee when he was feeling especially put-out.
"Yea, um, sure," Stiles stuttered, doing his best to avoid the amusement in Derek's chiseled expression. "What kind of coffee would you like Sir?"
"I'm not sure," Derek's voice was deep and much too near. There was a subtle teasing edge to his tone. Waiting for Stiles to make a fool of himself - as he well as on his way of doing - all other eyes in the room were on him. With a crooked grin, Derek asked, "What's the coffee like here?"
Stiles blushed, fully aware that Derek knew exactly his opinion. "It's great," he smiled anyways. In his misguided effort to seem authentic, Stiles finally lifted his gaze.
That had been a mistake. The moment their eyes met, Derek's crooked grin took on a more teasing quality. Silent laughter was clear in the dark green hues of his eyes. Stile froze.
Then, both a welcoming and unfortunate presence arrived. Lydia stepped into the room, her heels clipping against the polished wooden floor. "Hey Lydia," Jackson called out excitedly, though he tried to hide the eagerness behind his greeting. The two had dated a while back, but had broken up when Jackson had taken a year a year off for London. Since coming back 18 months ago, he'd been trying to win her over. So far, she hadn't even acted as if he had ever existed.
"Stiles," she addressed him instead. "I need your help going over some numbers."
Again, Stiles turned red. Derek turned to survey Lydia, only to bring his attention back to Stiles expectantly.
Generally, Stiles had no qualms in ditching work for a few minutes to listen to Lydia's gossip. Much too often, he needed those breaks to get through the day. And it wasn't like anyone questioned why Lydia would need his help. Though he didn't often showcase his intelligence, everyone knew he was smart. Certainly smart enough that Lydia would only trust him to double check her work. According to her, everyone else was too stupid.
Now, though, someone would question it - because he had admitted to this boss himself that Lydia's request for help was code for "let's take a break and talk". Nervously, Stiles stated, "Sorry Lyds. Right now isn't really a good time."
She scowled, not one to take any notion of rejection lightly. "I don't really trust any other set of eyes to help me out Stiles. So if you could…"
Despite knowing the consequences he would face from her later, Stiles prepared himself to decline. But then Derek cut him off before he could open his mouth. "You should go. It sounds important."
For a moment, Stiles wondered if it was a trick. Maybe he'd be called out on his unprofessionalism later, away from the eyes of his peers. Hell, Stiles figured, with everything he had shared on the plane, he was probably going to get fired.
If that were true, though, Stiles continued thinking to himself, it wouldn't matter what he did in that moment. So he nodded awkwardly and stood, keeping his head down as followed Lydia out the door. Behind him, he could hear Jackson and Erika begin their chattering once more, trying to one-up one another to the boss.
"Do you think he knew you weren't actually going to help me with work?" Lydia wondered about ten minutes later as they sipped the last of their lattes. "It seemed like he knew."
Stiles shrugged, keeping his mouth occupied with drinking rather than talking.
Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. He hadn't spoken much during their ten minutes together, letting her dominate the conversation instead. Whereas usually, their conversations were fairly well-rounded.
When he still refused to say anything, anxiously sipping his drink as she glared, Lydia finally gave up with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "Well, you can at least tell me how Coach took the news of you being a spaz all over Harrison."
Stiles was sure if the day kept up like this, he'd soon be permanently red from overdose of embarrassment. "He took it just fine," he mumbled just below his breath. "I mean, I'm not fire or anything." At least not yet, he thought depressingly.
"Well of course he wasn't going to fire you," Lydia scoffed. Only Lydia could simultaneously display annoyance at his seemingly stupidity, and confidence in his ability to do his job. For his part, Stiles was annoyed at himself too. But unlike Lydia, he had absolutely no confidence.
And while it had nothing to do with his failed meeting with Harrison, it did have something to do with him being a spaz. Inwardly, Stiles was cursing himself. Why did he have to be such a goof? Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Why did he have to have such bad luck?
During his lost thoughts of self-depreciation, Lydia had finished her latte and had thrown the cup away. She flipped her strawberry blonde hair off her shoulder. "I'll talk to you later," she stated as she already started walking towards the marketing department. "And I expect you to be more of a conversationalist. Do you understand me?"
Smiling at the authority in her tone, Stiles answered, "Aye, aye, Captain." Then he was off to get another round of coffee to take upstairs for the others.
Finstock was gone by the time he got there. Erika was painting her nails with a clear polish, something to make nails glossy and pristine, while she talked to one of the companies that used Wolf Security. Despite the immature action of painting her nails on the job, she gave off an aura of professionalism. It probably had to do with the air of confidence she exuded and the sophisticated tone she could put to use. Stiles was a little envious of her being able to do so. She winked at him gratefully when he placed coffee on her desk.
Jackson wasn't as thankful. The moment the coffee was set before him, he handed over a stack of files. He didn't even bother looking at Stiles as he ordered, "Go deliver these to Boyd."
There was no point in arguing. As the junior member of the team, he was often treated as if he were a lowly intern. He'd tried to push back in the beginning, wanting to be seen as an actual contributing member to the design team rather than an errand boy. Once though, Finstock had gone off on one of his speeches; about how people had to work from the bottom to get to the top and that no job was too little in the journey to success. After that, Stiles didn't complain as much about the simple tasks assigned to him, if only so he wouldn't have to listen to anymore inspirational lectures. And with the way things had been going, Stiles didn't think he'd ever argue against an errand ever again. He still hated it, but he was now figuring that it might be all that he was food for.
"Oh, and pick up the receipts from Danny so you double check it against inventory."
Sighing softly in resignation, Stiles dragged his feet down the hall to where he could find Boyd, dropping off the files without a word. Boyd wasn't one to appreciate small talk, and for today only, Stiles wasn't in the mood to force it upon him.
Then he went off to the finance department where Danny was more than happy to relinquish the receipts from the past two weeks. He smiled graciously when Stiles came to pick them up. "I thought I'd have to stay later and do them myself."
Stiles suspected that Danny had shared his stress over the inventory with Jacson, and Jackson hadn't wanted his best friend to have to stay any later than usual - hence the extra work loaded onto Stiles's shoulders. It was an abuse of seniority, Stiles thought, and was adequately bitter about the fact. Maybe not as bitter as he would have been though. Stiles may have hated Jackson, but everyone loved Danny, and even Stiles couldn't begrudge the guy a small favor.
Which was why Stiles just shrugged off the implied gratitude. "Nah man, I got it."
He had just started to head out and on his way to check the inventory when a boy slightly smaller than his rammed into his side. "Oh, Stiles!" the other guy exclaimed after straightening his posture, but then he just stared into Stiles's face until further prompted.
"Yes, Greenberg?"
Greenberg was an odd guy...and awkward. And that was saying something coming from Stiles. As such, the guy got picked on quite a bit. He'd been at the company since high school, but was still only ever considered an intern.
"The boss wanted to see you in his office."
"Tell Coach I'm doing inventory."
"No. The boss, boss. Mr. Hale."
