He could have sworn he was dreaming. This had to be a dream. How else would he have been handed the one thing he'd ever really, truly wanted in his life at the one time when he was sure he wouldn't have been able to get it?

He was an associate attorney. To the Derek Hale. At Greenberg and Argent.

If that wasn't a dream come true he didn't know what was.

But not all dreams were in black and white - there were the grey areas that Stiles would have preferred to avoid with a ten foot pole at all costs. For now, that very irritating grey area came in the form of his shitty best friend Scott McCall. He had been staring down at his phone for almost an entire minute, watching it as it lit up with Scott's face and incoming call. He didn't hit ignore and he didn't answer it, either. He just let it vibrate incessantly, torturing him.

Torturing both of them.

"Stiles Stilinski?"

He looked up from his phone just in time to stop before he ran into someone. The same someone that just so happened to be speaking to him. His brows furrowed as he pocketed his phone, eyeing the woman before him. "Er... yeah? That's me."

"My name is Lydia Martin. I'm here to give your orientation." The woman was pretty and lean in her figure, with bouncing red hair that spilled over her shoulders and both nice and fierce blue eyes that made it clear she took no nonsense from anyone. But, then again, Stiles was made of nonsense so that was a challenge he was more than willing to take on.

"They have people for that?" Stiles inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Great, another funny guy. Good to know this firm actually values smarts over nice looks and a sense of humor."

Stiles' face brightened. "You think I have nice looks?"

"God," she said under her breath, turning and walking off down the hall without another word; with a smirk, Stiles followed, catching up to her in only a few strides.

"So what do you really do?"

"I'm a paralegal," Lydia replied, somewhat reluctantly and without looking at him directly as they continued to walk down the hall. They passed various cubicles and offices, including that of one Victoria Argent, the head of the entire firm and -

"Hey, new guy."

As if on cue, Stiles made the mistake of looking up at the voice. He located the source of it with ease - a man with a nice head of hair, grey pinstriped suit, and a crazy look in his eyes. Stiles glanced at Lydia, but she was just shaking her head. "Leave him alone, Matt."

The man named Matt was standing a few feet away at the door to his office (there was plaque next to the door reading Matt Daehler, Attorney next to the door), watching them carefully.

It was really starting to creep Stiles out.

"I just want you to know I'm on to you, new guy," Matt called out as they passed him, and with one last look, he disappeared into his office, sipping from a ceramic mug.

"What does he mean, he's 'on to me'?" Stiles couldn't help but ask, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach that was practically screaming that this man - whom he had never met in his life - knew he was a complete fraud.

"It means he thinks that everyone hired under Derek Hale is either sleeping with the man or being paid off by him-slash-the-company," Lydia explained without missing a beat. They came to a stop in front of the receptionist's desk of an office at the end of the hall. "Down there is the mail room; take a left for the file room; meetings are held in there. Erica, he's all yours."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Lydia had already turned and started walking off down the hall in the direction that they had come in. He could have sworn he'd caught a glimpse of a smirk on her lips as she'd passed, but he wasn't sure.

When he turned around, his eyes found another plaque by the door of the office behind the desk: Derek Hale, Senior Partner. Stiles could see the man himself through the glass.

"You poor, poor boy," said the blonde woman sitting at the desk in front of him. He looked at her as she slowly shook her head, looking sympathetic. And not, like, I-know-what-you're going-through sympathetic, but I'm-sorry-you're-about-to-walk-into-the-lion's-den-and-die sympathetic. Was no one in this building normal?

What had he gotten himself into?

"I thought I told you to buy new suits."

Stiles had only just stepped into Derek's office when he had decided to scrutinize him even more than... well, he didn't know what the usual was but he figured it might as well have been this. He looked down at himself, taking in the - mind you - brand new suit he'd bought the day before.

"And if you're going to stand any chance with us at all, you're gonna need to buy some new suits. Something a little less... Men's Warehouse."

"I don't shop at -"

"You do. I can tell," Derek's words were matter-of-fact, and they made Stiles resignedly accept them, too. He hated how this new dream job of his had all of a sudden turned into a fashion contest. Did it really matter what - "And yes, it does matter. We're the best of the best. Therefore, we have to look our best."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You just used the word 'best' three times in one sentence."

"Get some new suits, Stilinski." Stiles opened his mouth to protest once more, but Derek cut him off smoothly. "Don't argue. I expect to see you in my office at the firm first thing Monday morning."

"These are new," Stiles all but whined, pulling feebly at his jacket. "I spent $500 dollars on them."

"For how many?"

"Five... what?"

Derek was rolling his eyes at him, shaking his head. "Just my point being proven," was all he said in response.

Stiles stepped towards him, but Derek held up a hand, motioning for him to stop. He felt both annoyed and confused, and was starting to understand Erica's sympathetic look a little better. Derek was kind of an asshole sometimes.

"What point -"

"Erica, what time is my next meeting again?" He spoke into the speaker of the phone on his desk, holding down a button. The blonde receptionist responded that it was in fifteen minutes and he thanked her, before turning back to Stiles. "Look, I know you didn't go to Harvard but that doesn't mean you have to dress like it -"

"He what?"

Erica's shrill voice through the speaker was enough to surprise Derek enough to release the button on the phone, unaware that he hadn't done so sooner. Stiles turned to look over his shoulder, following Derek's gaze. Erica was staring back at them both, eyes wide.

"Come with me," Derek told Stiles finally, moving past him and out of the room, ignoring the gaping look that Erica was still giving them.

It was all Stiles could do not to meet her gaze.

Derek remained a few steps ahead of Stiles for a minute, before Stiles finally managed to return to reality and fall into step next to him. Derek only had to glance at him once to see how tense he had become. "Relax. Erica won't tell anyone."

"Are you sure? I mean she seems a little... sneaky," Stiles insisted, glancing back over his shoulder as they turned left at the end of the hall. He could've sworn she was still staring.

"Positive. She works for me, therefore she isn't anywhere near sneaky, unless I need her to be." Derek, once again, sounded matter-of-fact. Stiles supposed it was good that he was so self-assured. By comparison, Stiles was falling all over himself at every turn. "Besides, there are worse people here than her."

"Like..."

Either Derek hadn't heard him or he was just ignoring him, because he said, "Now there are three things you need to know to survive at this firm. Number one: Victoria Argent is always right. You don't want to go head to head with her. Ever."

Stiles nodded; this was understandable. She was the head of the firm, after all.

"Number two," Derek went on. "I'm always right."

Stiles made a face. "I think that's subjective -"

"And three - never trust Matt Daehler," he finished, stopping outside of what looked like a meeting room and standing between Stiles and the door. "The man's been bitter since I got senior partner and he didn't, and now that I have an associate, he'll have a new target for his schemes."

"Could've put that in the job description -"

"You didn't apply, remember?" Derek pointed out with a raise of his eyebrow, looking at his watch. "Alright, now I've got to go." He started for the door behind him, before stopping, noticing that Stiles was following him. His hand pressed firmly against his chest, restraining him. "What do you think you're doing?"

Stiles looked confused. "I thought you had a meeting -"

"Yes, I do." Derek made sure to emphasize the pronoun in the sentence; Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes. "If you need something to do in the meantime, you can analyze and organize briefs. Get the information from Erica and I'll meet you later."

"Erica?" Stiles looked almost as wary of the idea of going back to her as he sounded.

Derek shook his head. "Oh, for God's sake," was all he said before turning and pushing the door open to the meeting room, leaving Stiles standing out in the hallway alone.

Of course, Stiles had exactly expected his first day as an associate attorney to go quite like this. First he's greeted by a beautiful woman (okay, so maybe that wasn't bad at all), then he's harassed by the least trustworthy guy in the firm, his boss spills the beans to his assistant, and to top it all of he gets no legal action whatsoever. Instead, he gets stuck in a stuffy room full of boxes and files about God knows what, up to his neck in case files.

Nope. Not how he'd imagined it at all.

"Rough day?"

Stiles looked up from what could only be described as angry highlighting, the cap to the one he was using between his lips as his eyes found the redhead hovering in the doorway. The cap fell out of his mouth and into his hand. "Lydia," her name was little more than a whisper when it left his mouth, and she managed a smile - the first he'd seen from her all day. "What gave it away?"

She tilted her head, stepping into the room. "Well, for one you work for Derek Hale," she pointed out. "And second, you're organizing briefs. On your first day." Lydia scrunched up her nose, eyeing the papers that littered the table in front of him. "How long have you been in here?"

"I don't know... a couple of hours?" Stiles yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Had it really been that long since he'd sat down in there?

"Well it's almost 8, and since I'm sure you haven't eaten anything all day, I thought I'd interest you in some leftover takeout. It's Chinese." Lydia brandished a brown paper bag he hadn't noticed she was holding as she sat down at the table across from him.

He just watched her, brows furrowing. "Wait, I thought you hated me?"

Lydia offered a laugh.

"Hated you?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh, you mean this morning? Yeah, sorry about that. I have this test for all the new guys, you know, just to see if they're asshole lawyers like the rest of them." She shrugged. "It's very rare that anyone surprises me."

Stiles leaned his forearms onto the table, smirking. She wasn't looking at him. "I surprised you, didn't I?"

It was a moment or two later, but finally Lydia lifted her eyes to his face, considering him in silence. She sighed, shaking her head. "It's only been a day, Stiles. Too early to tell." She reached into the bag that now sat on the table between them, pulling out two white takeout boxes. "Now, shrimp fried rice or chicken lo mein?"

"Fried rice," he decided with a small laugh, shaking his head as he took the box from her right hand.