Work Text:
From the moment he saw Dean Smith, with his eyes like emeralds set perfectly in his skull, rimmed with long, dark eyelashes, freckles that swept across his face like constellations of stars, and his solid frame beneath his dark suits and ties, Sam Wesson knew he was completely, utterly doomed. Especially so upon finding out that he would be working for him after he had been so blatantly checking him out in the elevator just moments prior to his interview. Sam squirmed in his seat awkwardly, pushing his brown hair that fell to his shoulders out of his eyes as he sat across from him, hoping he hadn’t noticed his staring. “You have no work experience” he frowned, furrowing his brows at the folder in front of him. “That’s what gets me. But it says here that you went to Stanford?”
The younger man nodded. “And you got a full ride?” Dean added, seemingly impressed. Sam nodded again, fidgeting in his seat. “You got a 174 on your LSATS. Wow…” he said this quietly, mostly talking to himself now. After going through the rest of his file, Mr. Smith set the manila folder down, making direct eye contact with the visibly nervous man in the red button-up shirt sitting across from him.
“Listen, and I’m just going out on a limb here, but it wouldn’t be smart to let you just walk out of here without a job” he said, leaning closer and speaking quietly as if he were sharing a secret. “We could use someone with a brain like you’ve got around here”. It took Sam a moment to process that he had actually gotten the job before his eyes widened in shock. He peered up at his new boss and extended his hand to him slowly, his eyes full of surprise and gratitude.
The older man shook his hand with a smile. Sam rose to his feet, thanked him and then began to ramble as they walked back to the elevator. “I promise I’ll work hard, and I’ll be on time and I’ll-“, but Mr. Smith cut him off with a laugh. “You’ve already got the job” he assured him.
Sam felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder and moments later, a soft voice was in his ear. “You can thank me by meeting me for dinner tomorrow night at seven” he smiled, turning to face Sam. “You’re not very subtle when you check someone out, for future reference”. Then just like that, his new boss stepped into the elevator and was gone, leaving Sam with his cheeks almost as red as his shirt and his hands in the pockets of his khakis as he stood in stunned silence.