I am in Grade A Hell. Hell Plus. Premium Hell. And I'm dragging y'all down with me.

On the 15+ hour drive home from Pennsylvania, I found a list of first meeting AUs, and fell in love. I wrote this one out quickly and sent it to alphaonefourzero, who proceeded to freak the fuck out. I've decided to do more.

A hundred situations, a hundred meetings.

Here we go.


"Greetings, Pendragon. By your confused and lost look I can see you are new here. I am the assistant manager of the editorial department where you will be working, so you will be answering to either me or Tilton. My name is Saint Dane, and welcome to Solara Publisher's."

Bobby burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. How the guy in front of him managed to say all that so professionally, with such a deadpan bored look on his face, was just hilarious. And his name. "Seriously?" he asked between giggles. "Okay, nice stripper name, but what's your real name?"

The man gave Bobby the foulest glare he could manage while still feigning disinterest. It was surprisingly effective. "That is my name."

The humor of the situation disappeared so fast Bobby got whiplash. "W-What?"

"Close our mouth before you stick your other foot in it."

His jaw snapped shut. "Shit man, I am so sorry," he said quickly. "I just- it's just that I haven't met too many people with ah, a name that, well, usually 'Saint' is a title? And having it as a first name is kinda weird- I mean, not weird, but different. Interesting. Unusual. Not that I'm saying you're unusual, I just mean that I've never heard a name like that and your eyes are the brightest blue I've ever seen and, and, uh..." He trailed off, blushing brightly. His mouth closed awkwardly again before even more embarrassing word vomit came out.

Saint Dane was just smirking. "As if you are one to talk about odd names, Pendragon."

"Hey! It's a respectable name, with ancient origins."

"As you wish, my prince."

"I am insulted," Bobby said, feeling his blush lessen at the easy banter. "I'd consider myself nothing less than a king."

Saint Dane laughed. "Quite the humble one, you are. So what was that about my eyes?"

Aaand the blush was back. He'd been hoping the man hadn't caught that. "It was nothing," he stammered. "You just, say weird things sometimes, right? I tend to ramble around people I've just met, and sometimes I say things I don't mean, so let's just forget that happened okay?"

"What, so my eyes aren't pretty?" Saint Dane asked, that damned smirk growing.

"N-No!" Bobby shouted, cursing himself as he dug himself into a verbal hole. "That's not what I meant! Your eyes are beautiful- I mean, they're pretty okay, I guess." Bobby shook his head. "That's not the point! I'm sorry. God, I'm such an idiot."

Saint Dane's smirk nearly split his face in half at that point. He crossed his arms. "Well I won't argue that."

"Dane, quit flirting with my nephew." Press walked up, interrupting their conversation. Bobby sighed in relief at the apparent godsend.

"I was doing no such thing," Dane protested lightly. "I was merely watching on in amusement as Pendragon fumbled through what seemed his first conversation with an attractive man."

"I assume said man walked off before I entered?"

Dane huffed. "My gratitude, Tilton."

At this point Bobby had buried his face in his hands and started praying for some heavenly intervention to take pity on his poor soul and obliterate it. Having the ground swallow him up would have worked, too. He wasn't particularly picky. Instead he finally looked up when his uncle pat his shoulder in sympathy.

"So you are the famed nephew of Press Tilton," Dane said, appraising the shorter man in front of him.

Bobby nodded awkwardly, smartly keeping his mouth shut this time. Didn't want any more foot-in-mouth business.

He hummed. "I see where you get your smooth way of talking from. Tilton was much the same way when we first started working together. Couldn't look me in the eye for a week after I caught him staring at a certainpart of my lower body."

Bobby didn't think he'd ever seen his uncle actually blush before, but now he was red to his roots. It was kind of funny.

"Wh- I- Dane!" Press spluttered. "That was three years ago! Would you stop bringing it up?"

"Not until you stop doing it."

Bobby howled with laughter as his uncle stomped off, muttering under his breath and still beet-red. He had to lean on the wall for support or his legs would have given out. Seeing someone who was usually so cool, so suave, so sure-footed, actually lose his footing and get flustered like that was fucking hilarious.

Bobby felt the other man lean against the wall next to him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and rubbed his aching sides. Glancing over, he saw that Dane was casually examining his nails.

"All joking aside, I am technically your superior, which means you will obey me." He pushed off from the wall and stared Bobby down. "You will make it your job to follow the rules I set down to the mark, no matter your thoughts or opinions. The only one who can rescind my authority is your uncle."

"You're such a nice guy," Bobby said sarcastically.

"Thank you." Either Saint Dane didn't notice the sass or chose to ignore it, but he continued anyway. "I've set down a lot of rules and regulations and such, but I've a meeting with some up-and-coming author in ten minutes, and honestly, dinner would be a better place to discuss such topics." He pulled a notepad and pen somewhere out of his black suit and scribbled something down. With a flourish, Dane tore off the top sheet and tucked it in Bobby's shirt collar. "Remudi from accounting runs a wonderful little seafood place with his son on the corner of Fifth and Willow. Meet me there at five thirtyand we'll talk."

And then he was gone. Bobby sat there, mouth open, not fully comprehending the fact that his technical boss - whom he'd just met for the first time not five minutes ago - had just asked him on a date. No, he'ddemanded they go out. Dane had basically set the whole thing up so Bobby couldn't refuse, then whisked off in an over-dramatic flair of probably-dyed silver hair.

When his brain finally decided to restart, Bobby plucked the piece of paper from his collar and unfolded it. On it was a number, a name, and a delicately scrawled note:

"I look forward to working with you, Bobby."