Chapter Text
"And here we have Mr Hale's office."
Stiles didn't know what the hell he was doing here. Scott had just showed up one day in his run down New York apartment - that shit was expensive - and demanded he come work with him. In the famous Hale Magazine.
Now, Stiles didn't even really know what was going on. But somehow Scott had staged him a spot on the interns list. He had just finished his finals at Columbia going strong on his Business degree. He wasn't cocky...but he knew he was going to be top of his class.
Don't ask him how he knew. You'll just have to find out later.
He decided to humour Scott, not seeing the harm in scoping out the fancy shmancy, security covered place... legally.
Cause everybody always wanted to be able to be inside the famous Hale Magazine Headquarters. For many reasons. While Stiles had never really taken a interest in the place despite his 5 years living in New York, every social media seemed to be tracking the rapid expansion of this business.
It was the epitome of society these days. The magazine for the highest of class. It was the new Vogue, spreading across America and worldwide. Everyone was talking about it.
Honestly, Stiles would prefer to be home with his Cheetos and Xbox. He hadn't really worried about getting a new job. His last one had fallen through in the recession, but he'd somehow managed to pay off his colleges fees by then. He figured he could get one when he finished his degree.
Stiles didn't see the need to get a knew one when he didn't need it.
He was a lazy fuck.
...and a trust fund baby.
His father had refused to take from Stiles' college fund, no matter what happened. It had apparently been a promise to his late mother, that no matter how bad things got he would never restrict Stiles' ability to have whatever future he chose.
So here he was. Surrounded by Glamour-zones decked in fake Gucci and gelled hair, playing with their lanyards between manicured fingers as they eagerly awaited the appearance of Mr Hale.
Yeah. This was the other reason why everyone wanted in to Hale Magazine.
Now, Stiles was fine the way he was. He never liked anyone in HighSchool. He'd thought he was Asexual or something.
Or maybe he just became like this after Scott's enthused rambling about his sexual relations with Allison. He was scarred for life after that. He wanted none of that, no thanks.
But, he was sure at least 86% of these girls (and guys, no sexism here) were just here to get a glimpse of the "Elusive and Sexy Mr Hale."
Mr Hale avoided spotlight like a criminal. Only showing up at public events if he had too. And when he did, it was a massive uproar of pictures of his every angle on every social media web site in existence.
Stiles knew that Mr Hale basically only went to work and home again. He didn't want to know that, but it was hard to avoid when every one of his news-feeds/dashes/anything constantly shoved it down his throat.
Everybody knew everything they could get on Mr Hale. His own magazine was like the only one in the world that didn't have a segment dedicated to him.
Even his father knew about Mr Hale. Telling him to "go for it Stiles! There is so many opportunities that could open up for you there!"
Stiles may be twenty three but nobody went against Sheriff Stilinski.
And so, here he was. But, he just planned on having a squiz and bailing. He would be fine with his Business degree and little apartment. He didn't have any of the glitz and glamour that was expected of you in this Business. He just showed up in his converse and plaid, looking every inch the college student he was.
He kept quiet as they walked through the halls, decked elegantly with dark wood and light paint. His converse moved almost silently over the carpet, but he heard some of the females struggling with with their six inch heels of the soft surface.
They reached a open area, one side of the room override floor to ceiling in glass which had a equally transparent door. Clearly this was a room..and by the black words neatly printed onto the glass....this was Mr Hale's office.
He sighed as a girl let out a little squeal at the appearance of the office...and the man that sat inside.
He was sitting at his dark wood desk in the centre of the overly large room (which Stiles was sure was the size of his entire apartment). He didn't seem to notice the sudden group of about 10 college kids outside his door.
Stiles let his gaze wander the room, appreciating the view that spread out behind Mr Hale. This was one of the tallest buildings in New York, and this was the top floor.
God that view was fine. He guessed it was just a perk of being insanely rich and famous.
They stood there for a few moments before Mr Hale's assistant, a something Martin who seemed to have the art of walking on carpets in heels down pact, knocked gently on the glass.
His eyes snapped up, and Stiles sucked in a tiny breath....along with everyone else in his group.
Many websites had been dedicated to Mr Hale's eyes. Describing them as fierce green. Stiles could see what they meant.
His gaze was demanding. Powerful. The eyes of a man that had whatever he wanted and had people running to be stepping stones beneath his feet.
Stiles hated him already.
Mr Hale's gaze slipped away from them, nodding at his assistant. She looked back at them, her fiery red hair slipping over her shoulder.
"Do not speak unless spoke to, are we clear?" She said, her voice demanding assent.
The group nodded collectively, but Stiles still had a quizzical gaze on Mr Hale.
Ms something Martin opened the door, letting them all inside. Stiles could now feel the aura of such a powerful man, and while he instinctually straightened his back, he still was no longer impressed.
He hated people that used others.
...he'd been used enough to know what it felt like firsthand.
They filed in quietly, the girls trying to look attractive in their teetering heels and the guys smoothing back their hair with self-important smirks. But Stiles just stood there, hands in his pockets and gaze never leaving Mr Hale.
They stood in two rows. Five in the front and two at the back. He was near the front so he moved into the front row, but he shoved back by a smirking guy who's hand lingered too long on his back. Stiles let himself be discreetly shoved back, not particularly caring to make a memorable appearance.
The others smiled at Mr Hale, but Stiles only focused his un-impressed gaze on the man as they all fell into line.
"Mr Hale, the potential interns." Something Martin said, moving to stand next to his desk. Mr Hale swept his gaze over them, obviously taking them all in.
Stiles watched at Mr Hale eyes swept over him before backtracking. He stared at Stiles, obviously thrown by his lack of smile.
Stiles stared back, knowing he should drop his gaze not to offend the high and mighty. But he wasn't going to be treated like pretty trash like the rest would be happy to be. Mr Hale kept his gaze on Stiles, and Stiles levelled his gaze with a narrowed stare.
Mr Hale only lingered for a mother moment, before looking over at his assistant.
"What do we have here, Lydia?" Ah. That was it. Lydia.
"Three Berkeley, two Harvard, three NYU and one Columbia" Lydia said, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder as she handed Mr Hale the information.
Stiles could smell Queen Bee all over her.
Seems everyone came from all 'round to be apart of this. Such was the influence of the Hale Magazine.
Mr Hale nodded, closing his computer.
"NYU, out." He said, leaning back in his chair. It was silence for a moment. Stiles saw three people tense around him.
Ouch. That gotta hurt.
"Wh-what?" A girl cried. "Why?"
Mr Hale only turned a glare on her, and she shut up.
"It's a elimination process. You are eliminated. Goodbye." Mr Hale said, waving a hand flippantly at the door. Lydia seemed unmoved by his display of power, only taking the three out.
The rest stood shocked, but Stiles felt anger boil beneath his skin. They probably worked hard to get where they were. Just because their University wasn't as "prestigious" as the others didn't mean they were worth any less.
They had probably worked harder than Stiles had in his life. Probably worked harder than anyone here.
That was a low blow.
Stiles was sure he was going to rip Mr Hale a knew one before he ditched. Mr Hale wouldn't be able to hurt him anymore then to take his internship away from him.
And he didn't want jack-shit from this man.
He didn't know how Scott dealt with this. But, he had always been a puppy. Stiles wasn't one to roll over when somebody growled.
"Now." Mr Hale said, standing up. He reached a towering height, his fitted suit smoothing under his hands he stepped away from his desk.
"I have decided to take on internships, because we are in need of some fresh talent." Mr Hale began, and Stiles could feel the monologue approaching. "We have new competition on the market. They haven't taken much, but their sudden rise in popularity has us worried. Our sales have fallen 0.04 percent, and they haven't fallen since I began this business."
“Now. I base my expectations on previous successful CEO's. I particularly prefer one of Mr Pages, the CEO of Google quotes: Rule No. 1: Never lose money; Rule No. 2: Don’t forget Rule No. 1. Is that clear?” Mr Hale stated with absolute power in his voice, daring anyone to go against him.
And Stiles found that he'd had enough.
"Actually Sir?" Stiles voiced, as all eyes swivelled onto him. "Not to be rude.." He began, but the complete insincerity in his voice was evident to all. "But, that was a quote from Warren Buffett, the CEO of Berkshire Hathaway."
Stiles waited as the room went quiet. Would Mr Hale scream? Yell? Hit him? What was this man's preferred front towards disobedience?
"Oh?" Mr Hale said, seemingly amused as he lent on his desk. He tilted his head, seemingly watching Stiles.
Stiles wanted to rip that head right off.
"And how would you know that-" Mr Hale looked at the paper on his desk. "...Columbia?"
"My name is Stiles, Mr Hale." Stiles ground out around a plastic smile. "And I just do"
He felt the other interns move away from him, not wanting to get buried in the hole Stiles was digging himself into.
"You 'just do?'" Mr Hale said, finding his insolence amusing as he huffed a laugh. The other interns seemed to take it as a opportunity to get on Mr Hale's good side, laughing with him and at Stiles.
"Yes, Mr Hale. And I think I might be able to tell who said any quote you come up with." Stiles said, slouching and shoving his hands into his pockets with a dry smirk as the laughter died.
Mr Hale's eyes flashed at the challenge. Stiles knew his type. He would try to destroy Stiles now, embarrass him and send him with his tail between his legs.
But Stiles never lost.
"Okay then, Columbia." Mr Hale said with his own smirk. "I'll have you know I base my life on these principles. Let's see what you've got."
Stiles smirk only grew.
“High expectations are the key to absolutely everything.” Mr Hale said, sitting back in his chair again as he started at Stiles, goading him.
"Sam Walton, Walmart" Stiles deflected, now standing alone as the other interns scampered away from the heat of Mr Hale's glare.
“In business, what’s dangerous is not to evolve.” Mr Hale said, now throughly intrigued.
"Jeff Bezos" Stiles answered immediately. "Amazon" Mr Hale's eyes narrowed, and Stiles vaguely heard one of the remaining females whimper slightly.
"Alright, Columbia. Let's up the ante" he said. "If you want to make enemies, try to change something."
"President Woodrow Wilson, Mr Hale." Stiles was almost beaming now. God this felt good.
"No man has a good enough memory to be a successful liar." Mr Hale spat, amusement gone.
"President Abraham Lincoln." Stiles said. "Except you will find that I do." Mr Hale's mouth curled up into a sneer.
"What would that be, Columbia?"
"I do have a good enough memory, sir." Stiles said with a shrug, used to this whole process. He'd faced enough dickheads in his time to know the way it worked. He lifted a hand, tapping his skull with one finger.
"Photographic memory, Sir." He said, before ripping off his intern lanyard from around his neck and chucking it carelessly on Mr Hale's desk.
"Now, please shove that up your asshole. I'm out"
And then he turned, and walked away. Swaying his hips with a piercing grin on his lips as he slammed the glass door shut behind him
And his smirk only grew when he heard the distinctive crack of the glass cracking around the doors handle, a small laugh escaping his lips as he disappeared down the hall.
........
Stiles was once again swanning around his little apartment, eating conspicuous amounts of ice cream and playing "too much" Xbox.
"No, Scott! There is no such thing as too much Xbox!"
"There is when you should be here at work trying to win this internship!"
"How you betray me my brother!" Stiles cried out melodramatically. "And besides, that Hale is a dickbag anyway."
"But he's my boss." Scott sighed.
"Yeah!" Stiles, said gesticulating with his spoon. "I have seriously begun to question your career situation, my bro. You should totally ditch and work in my business when I finish my degree!"
"Stiles." Scott sighed. "Ask me again when you've actually got your business running and useful enough to pay me decently."
"Yeah, yeah. Loser."
"Says the one at home alone on a Friday."
"...screw you." Stiles muttered.
"Thanks bud, but I have to-" and then Scott cut off and Stiles heard a scuffle. "Oh shit. Mr Hale's leaving the premises. Oh my god, he has to walk past my cubicle. I gotta go!" He stage whispered, and Stiles smirked.
"Hey, dickhead!!" Stiles yelled into the phone, hoping Mr Asshole would hear him. He laughed manically when Scott hung up on him.
He stretched backwards, his Beacon Hills Sheriff Department t-shirt ridding up and his pyjama pants slipping off his hips.
He huffed as he stopped stretching, standing up and hitching his pj pants back up to rest on his hips. He moved towards his little kitchen, taking his empty ice cream container with him. He scratched his head as he stepped on the little pedal to lift his bins lid, dropping the empty container that had once been filled with his sweet, icy love.
He sucked on the spoon as he zombie-d over to the freezer, opening the door to reveal another seven pints of ice-cream. He sighed, wondering how much he was going to have to work out to burn it off.
And then the doorbell rang.
Now, Stiles didn't get many visitors. Half the time it was Scott and the rest it was Mrs Mleeny from across the hall in his wonderfully tiny apartment complex.
He continued to suck on his spoon as he walked over to the door, expecting the sweet old face of Mrs Mleeny at his door.
What he didn't expect was Mr Hale.
He stared for a good minute at the man from his doorway, looking so out of place in his real Gucci suit and piercing gaze.
"..what the hell are you doing here." Stiles gaped, taking the spoon from his mouth. Mr Hale's eyes slid up and down his messy appearance, and Stiles hitched up his pants with one hand again self-consciously.
"Do you seriously not know?" Mr Hale thundered.
Stiles looks at him, seriously contemplating slamming the door on his face and just not dealing with him.
"If it's about the glass, I don't-"
"It's not the glass, idiot. It's this!" Mr Hale said, sliding a smart phone from his pocket and shoving it in Stiles' face.
Stiles grabbed his wrist to pull it far enough away so he could read the text on the screen.
"Mr Hale from Hale Magazine has been 'cracked' by a Columbia College Student!" It screamed in bold. Stiles scrolled to see a complete story on the matter. And to see it was trending worldwide.
"Oh shit."
"Yes 'oh shit' one of the interns was a spy from our rival magazine!" Mr Hale yelled, snatching the phone back.
Stiles stood there, gaze un-focused.
"They know who you are and where to find you, Columbia. They have your picture too." Mr Hale said, his narrowed gaze pinning Stiles like a butterfly.
"Oh my god." Stiles moaned, leaning against his door frame heavily.
"I will not let you ruin my companies image."
"Well it's a bit late for that." Stiles managed through his shock, not forgetting how much he hated this man.
"Not really, Columbia. If I show I still have power over you it will reinforce my authority." Mr Hale's face turned into a smirk.
"You don't have anything over me, asshole." Stiles said, pushing at the man's chest in his sudden anger.
The man didn't budge, snatching his wrists from his chest and holding them in one hand.
"Yes I do, actually." He said, barely audible over the growl coming from his chest. "I'm making you join my company."
Stiles stood shocked once again in the span of five minutes.
"You seem to be mistaken, Mr Hale" Stiles said, coming back to himself and looking completely unimpressed. "I have no desire to join your firm." Stiles ripped his hands from the older man's grasp.
But then Mr Hale's smile got even bigger.
"I'll fire Scott McCall if you don't." He said, and Stiles' heart dropped out of his chest.
"...you wouldn't dare."
"I think you find I would." Mr Hale preened.
"Screw you, Hale. I hate you." He hissed, trying the slam the door on the man but he'd shoved his foot in the door.
Stiles was no longer in control. He hated being taken over and pushed beneath another.
He hated it.
"Hate me all you want, but you're being my personal intern."
"You are unbelievable." Stiles yelled, wanting nothing more than to punch the man that was slowly ruining his life.
"Believe whatever you want, Columbia. But you are my bitch now." Stiles clawed at him uselessly at the name, seeing red. "See you on Monday in office at 7."
And then Mr Hale was gone.
And Stiles was screaming profanities down the hall.
........
Monday came too quickly for Stiles.
Hale had announced publicly that he would be taking in the smart mouthed Columbia Student, a smirk on his face saying that he had no trouble subduing the boy and would do anything to anyone else that tried the same.
Stiles had seen it on all his social medias.
He'd immediately deleted them all. Along with all the new messages trying to convince him to come on their talk show or even some asking him invasive questions about if he had anyone to shut that mouth for him, and if not they would like to be the one to do it.
He wanted to vomit.
He'd gone from completely happy college student to be known worldwide as Mr Hale's bitch
...His dad was going to flip.
But Monday came roaring in with its usual grace.
Stiles tried to dress nice this time, feeling completely swallowed by the aura that was Mr Hale. But, he still had enough spark left to wear his beloved converse on his feet. It looked kinda strange with his suit.
But if Hale was going to force him to work for him, Stiles was going to make it the worse decision of his life.
He walked out of his apartment, going to walk the short distance to work...when he was suddenly surrounded by cameras and flashes and yells of "How do you feel about your first day of work for Mr Hale?"
Stiles felt the familiar pang of the beginnings of a panic attack when somebody parted the crowd and snatched him from it.
He hardly saw who it was through the crowd but then he was thrown into a black tinted car. He shrunk down in his seat as the tore away from the curb, already feeling exhausted.
He looked over next to him to find Lydia Martin fixing her hair, obviously frazzled from dragging him from the horde of publicity.
"Mr Hale thought you might need a lift." Was all Lydia gave as explanation.
Stiles sneered.
"I still hate him." Stiles muttered stubbornly, smoothing down his only good suit. Lydia laughed, high and tinkling.
"Don't we all."