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laniew1Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.
TITLE: Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD
RATING: PG-13 (for now)
PAIRING: Gen – but Stiles/Clint (eventually)
AUTHOR: Melanie
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel, MTV, etc own everything but the idea to mesh them..
FEEDBACK: Please?
Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 7/?
It takes them three days to work through the piles of paper and books, Crawford relaxes once they get the piles of paper relegated to folders in a cabinet and the books back on the shelves. Stiles feels better too because it means that he can Lysol the hell out of his desktop (as well as the rest of the office though he waits for Crawford to leave before doing so) and he has somewhere to set up his computer and pictures.
“I like order,” he says one night at dinner, they eat together after they finish their shift mostly because Stiles doesn’t like eating alone and he’s not that great at making friends. There’s a reason why Scott was his best and only friend for the longest time and it has very little to do with his ADHD and more to do with the fact that apparently he tries too hard and that drives people away instead.
“You couldn’t prove it by the piles of paper that I found on our office floor three days ago,” Crawford mutters.
“I was going to have a nervous breakdown working through them on my desk, it was better for both of us to just rip off the band-aid and deal with the issue head on.”
Dinner is some sort of meatloaf thing, Stiles’ is better; he’d perfected a non-meat version years ago that his dad still to this day doesn’t know contains no meat at all. The pack knows and they’ll actually eat it without throwing a fit which doesn’t really meananything since they’d actually eat raw meat if Stiles didn’t cook it out of fear of them all catching salmonella or mad cow disease or something.
“Except now I’m afraid one of the filing cabinets is going to explode.”
Stiles makes a face because the cabinets had been filled right to capacity. Crawford probably has a reason to worry. Except…
“They’re SHIELD filing cabinets, I’m pretty sure they’re reinforced to withstand attacks and shit.”
A tray clatters onto the table next to him and they both look over in askance. No one sits with them, not ever. It’s like being in high school again, only without the werewolves and Hunters and almost dying every week.
He would have thought working for SHIELD would be filled with more danger; instead he’s going on four weeks without a near death experience. It’s almost a record.
His actual record is 86 days; it probably doesn’t count though because he was visiting his grandmother for 84 of those days.
Clint is dropping into the chair next to him; Natasha sets her tray down much more quietly and slides into the seat next to Crawford. They’re both in civilian clothes though both are also visibly (and most likely invisibly) armed.
The expression on Crawford’s face would be hilarious if Stiles didn’t think his face looked exactly like that at the moment.
“Do you want us to move?” Stiles asks, they’re mostly done but if the cool kids want to lower themselves to eat in the cafeteria with the rest of them, well Stiles can give up his table.
“Why would you move, you were sitting here first?” Natasha asks, she’s poking suspiciously at her meatloaf.
Crawford looks at him and Stiles looks right back.
“We have to eat as well,” Clint says, if it were anyone else Stiles would say he sounds defensive. But Clint Barton is an Avenger and is tangling with vampires if not voluntarily then for a mission that is probably six levels above Stiles’ pay grade; he’s got no reason to sound defensive.
He kind of wants to ask about the vampire, find out if his advice was taken and they’d put it down or if he needs to stock up on garlic and crucifixes because they’ve got it locked up somewhere on the Helicarrier.
He doesn’t because Clint is shoveling food in his mouth at a pace that indicates he knows that it’s not going to taste any better if he eats it slow, Natasha is still poking at her food with her fork like she’s waiting for it to develop sentience and attack.
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says in a tone that he hopes conveys the fact that he knows that is bullshit but is going to let it slide since it’s 2/6 of the Avengers and he doesn’t feel like breaking his non-death experiences streak.
“He okay?” Clint points a fork at Crawford whose face is sheet white, Stiles is seriously worried that he might have a stroke at the table.
“He’s fine,” Stiles says and he shoots a look at Crawford that tells him to chill the fuck out.
“Stark’s been trying to get in touch with you,” Natasha says, she’s given up provoking her meatloaf into attacking her and pushed it, tray and all, across the table to Clint. He makes a face at it but doesn’t refuse, just puts that plate on top of his and shoves the tray aside.
“Why?” Stiles blinks, because he can’t think of any reason that Tony Stark would need to get in touch with him.
Unless…
But no, there’s no reason that Tony would be interested in the database, because he shouldn’t know that it exists.
There are six people that know about it, Stiles, Crawford, Lydia, Danny, Agent Coulson and Director Fury. Not even the pack knows about it, though he’s pretty sure that Derek and Allison know they’re working on something.
Derek knows that because Danny doesn’t like to keep secrets from Jackson, Stiles thinks that it actually physically hurts Danny to keep secrets from Jackson. If Jackson can ever get Lydia to not see Danny as a threat to their relationship they’re going to be fucking so fast…
Danny had told Jackson they were working on something, then asked him to not ask him what it was. Jackson, for all that Stiles thought he’d be weaseling for information, had respected whatever boundaries Danny had set up.
Allison knows because they’d had to ask to borrow the Argent’s Bestiary, they hadn’t kept it more than a couple of days, with all three of them typing they got it pretty uploaded pretty quick. She doesn’t ask them questions she knows they won’t answer, though she does poke at Lydia periodically.
“Stark said something about tests,” Natasha says, she’s peering at him like she can see his soul and finds it lacking in some way.
“Oh… I thought he’d forgot about that,” hoped was more like it, Stiles doesn’t get that lucky though as evidenced by his life to date.
“No, he just puts them on the backburner until they become more readily accessible. He’s been trying you on your phone but apparently it’s not working,” Clint piles his tray on top of Natasha’s and kind of leans back in his chair. On anyone else Stiles would call it a slouch but every muscle in his body speaks of the intent of leaping into battle if someone even so much as looks at them the wrong way.
“I don’t have a phone,” Stiles says. He used to, it was a really nice, one that he’d saved up for and begged his dad for money for the rest.
“What he means is he put it on vibrate because it was annoying him and it got filed in one of the filing cabinets when we were sorting through the metric ton of paperwork that Agent Markoff had left on his desk,” Crawford manages to say, he doesn’t make eye contact with either Natasha or Clint, instead choosing to focus on a spot on the wall between Clint and Stiles’ shoulders.
Clint looks at him and Crawford turns even whiter, mumbles something under his breath and bolts.
Natasha looks after him then looks back at Stiles. Stiles looks back and shrugs because if they don’t know the type of emotional impact they have on people then he’s not going to be the one to share it.
******************************************************************************
They didn’t capture the vampire, Stiles thanks god for small miracles.
There’s a two page report that shows up on his desk somehow, maybe there’s mail fairies that delivered it or something. If there are he wishes they’d do it on a daily basis, normally Crawford has to go out and pick it up because their office is locked down to only permit three people, with medical and Director Fury having override codes.
The vampire is dead, Clint had used bullets filled with garlic and holy water (a recipe that Stiles and the Argents came up with when Beacon Hills had a really determined vampiress that had locked on to Isaac, apparently his blood tastes like ambrosia instead of just, you know, blood) to take it out.
There’s a yellow sticky note attached to it with a scrawled; ‘Can you make this work for my bow?’
Stiles sends Allison an e-mail, copying himself and Agent Coulson with the request of ‘anti-vampire arrowheads, possible or not???’
******************************************************************************
Tony appears at the door of their office, Crawford is thankfully not there, he’s out doing whatever it is that he does when he’s not telling Stiles where to go and who he needs to report out to next.
The door should have been closed, it actually was closed and locked Stiles is sure of this; but Tony is suddenly standing there looking around so maybe it wasn’t?
“You need some color on the walls, this whole place screams mental institution to me,” Tony says.
“Well Crawford does scream periodically but mostly that’s because there’s a book in the wrong place. How did you get in here? That door was…” he waves a hand at it.
“Doors like me,” Tony smiles enigmatically at him and Stiles blinks, frowns.
“Did you break my door? Because that’s not cool, that door is the only thing standing between me and the line of cool people with cool jobs that want shit I can’t give them.”
“I didn’t break it,” Tony looks distressed that Stiles could think such a thing of him. “It was just missing some people on the approved list, so I made a few modifications.”
“You added all the Avengers to the approved list for my office? I’m going to have to let Crawford go to so many counseling sessions,” he mutters under his breath. He also wants to ask why the Avengers have seemingly adopted him, he has a family already.
“I heard that,” Tony is sort of poking around the office, looking at the bookcases, the filing cabinets with locks on them (it makes Crawford feel better that the papers they’ve stuffed in there can’t just leap out and smother him while he’s sitting at his desk unaware). There’s a white board with their wish list of things that would make their lives so much simpler if only they could figure out the requisition process.
“The list of shit I need to buy once I find out what exactly my department is, whether we have a budget and how much of it I can spend,” Stiles says when he sees Tony standing in front of it.
At the top of the list is phone. Stiles apparently didn’t pay the extra for insurance for his phone, so he’s either going to have to dump out the filing cabinets one by one until he finds it and Crawford quits to have his nervous breakdown or wait until his plan is ready for an upgrade.
“I can get most of this stuff,” Tony has his phone out and is punching away at it.
Stiles’ life is surreal, he’s across the room smacking at Tony’s hands before he thinks about what he’s doing or who he’s physically accosting.
Derek will be beyond thrilled if he gets his ass fired though.
“That’s why I have a department and supposedly a budget,” Stiles says, Tony’s got his phone held above his head and Stiles is almost taller than him he could probably knee him and get it but it seems like too much effort and also kind of like keep-away that he used to play with Scott.
“Yes, but this way you don’t have to wade through the bureaucracy and explain why you need it.”
“They’ll know why I need it, I’m actually surprised we don’t have it already, but maybe Agent Markoff spoke seven languages, two of them dead fluently. I unfortunately do not, so I need the Rosetta Stone in Russian or I’m going to need Russian for Dummies and about six additional months on all my requests.”
Tony barks out a laugh at him and pats him on the shoulder, hand coming up to curve around the back of his neck and Stiles puts his hands up and readies ‘Personal Space Bubble Speech 27’.
“Barton said you filed your phone,” Tony says, he lowers his arms and reaches into his pocket pulling out a shiny new phone. It’s one of the ones that Stiles has been drooling over, though would definitely not have been the one that he’d get. Even with his upgrade it would have been like $200 bucks. He’s got better stuff to spend his money on.
“I can’t take that,” Stiles says. He really wants it, he wants to cuddle it and name it George and fill it with pictures and apps and send pictures of himself holding it to Danny with ‘see what I’ve got’.
“Sure you can, consider it payment for letting me take pictures of your neck.”
******************************************************************************
Stiles learns that even if Tony tells him that yes, okay, he’ll let Stiles wade through the bureaucracy of figuring his own department out, well he’s actually going to completely ignore him.
He learns this when he comes into his office two days after Tony broke in and somehow reprogrammed the locks to allow Stiles, Crawford and the Avengers as a whole access, and locked everyone else out. IT is working on it but every time they manage to reprogram them the program rewrites itself.
He walks in and finds Crawford drooling over Rosetta Stone boxes in all the languages they’d had on their white board (as well as a few that weren’t there) and petting his own new shiny phone.
“Pick your battles, Stiles,” Crawford advises him. “Agent Markoff has had requisitions in for almost seven months for just the Russian and Latin versions, and they certainly wouldn’t have given us new phones that are smarter than our computers and could probably do our jobs given half a chance and actual bodies.”
“He’s going to think he owns us,” Stiles mutters, he doesn’t mention the likelihood that the phones are bugged because of Crawford hasn’t figured that out, well, he’s not as smart as Stiles thinks he is.
******************************************************************************
Stiles meets Dr. Banner when Tony finally programs enough appointments into his phone and directly with Crawford that eventually he has to show up for one or run the risk of Crawford dragging him there like a recalcitrant child kicking and screaming the entire way.
Tony shoves him into a shiny metal tube and runs a gamut of ‘normal’ tests on him. He’d already taken half his blood supply, plucked hair from his head and made him pee in a cup (thankfully he was allowed privacy for that, though only because he shut the door in Tony’s face when he was making like he was going to follow him).
It’s very boring in the metal tube and he’s hoping that Tony hasn’t forgotten about him and wandered off to do other, more important, things. At the very least he knows he won’t be stuck here indefinitely, someone will eventually, hopefully, miss him. And Crawford had been the one to send him here to be poked and prodded so he’s almost sure if he doesn’t reappear at some point Crawford will also be the one to notify Agent Coulson who will then send either Clint or Natasha to come force Tony to release him from captivity.
He doesn’t need any of that, because after about an eternity (the clock in the corner of the room says it’s been an hour and 17 minutes but Stiles doesn’t trust it) Tony lets him out.
“So am I dying of some rare as of yet never seen before form of cancer?” Stiles says, his arm still hurts from where Tony had taken the blood.
That’s when he notices the other guy, head bent close to Tony’s as they peruse a pile of papers that are most likely about him.
“Agent Stilinksi, Dr. Bruce Banner,” Tony waves a hand but doesn’t look back at him.
“Hello,” Bruce kind of smiles a small, closed-mouthed smile at him. Stiles tries not to think about the fact that if he gets pissed off he turns into a giant green monster that can level city blocks and take out flying alien monsters.
“Hi, and Specialist,” Stiles says, he pulls a t-shirt and sweat pants on because he’s cold and also really underdressed.
“What?” Tony looks up, he looks perplexed, it’s amusing in a way.
“Specialist, not Agent. I’m pretty sure Agents get paid a lot more than me,” Stiles says, he crosses his arms over his chest and kind of huddles in on himself for warmth. He’s really cold for some reason; maybe the blood loss is kicking in? Either that or Tony turned the air on.
“Oh, I could have sworn…” Tony shakes his head.
“So?” Stiles waves a hand at the print outs that they’re still mostly bent over.
“You’re human,” Bruce says, he shrugs a little.
“I didn’t realize that was in doubt.”
“You are distressingly normal,” Tony says, he walks over to him, poking him in the arm that he’d taken the blood from, it hurts so Stiles smacks a hand in his direction. He pokes him in the neck a couple of times and then wanders over to another table that probably doesn’t contain printouts and biological material that in the wrong hands could be used to create another him.
“Did you think you were going to shove me in a shiny metal tube and find a well of magic in the base of my neck or something?” Stiles asks, because that’s hilarious and if it’s true then he needs to share it with everyone.
“No, of course not,” Tony scoffs. Bruce rolls his eyes at him and Stiles just sort of grins.
Stiles could have just told him that there’s nothing special about him and saved his blood supply and almost 2 hours of his day. Next time he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut about things that don’t have rational explanations.
Unless they’re werewolves, vampires, gnomes, fairies, etc, etc, etc.
******************************************************************************
Clint is waiting in his office when he gets back. He actually jumps when he walks in because he hadn’t been expecting someone and then there was someone perched in the corner of his office like a gargoyle.
It’s like being back home and having Derek hovering outside his window or behind his door waiting to demand things from him.
At least he doesn’t have a weapon out which means that he’s not there to kill him.
“I thought you told us to avoid vampires when at all possible,” Clint says, Stiles blinks at him because what the fuck?
He realizes after a second that Clint is looking at his arm, “Oh, Tony, I probably would have had more fun with a vampire, at least I would have gotten off before dying of blood loss.”
Clint huffs a sound that could probably be a laugh so Stiles doesn’t die of embarrassment when he replays what he just said in his head.
******************************************************************************
“The Avengers seem to have adopted me,” Stiles says at one of his mandatory meetings with Coulson. “How do I get them to unadopt me?”
“You could not display knowledge that they don’t have and means to prove it through personal experiences,” Coulson says, though his tone asks him why he would want to.
“Alright,” Stiles agrees. “As long as you get them to stop running into werewolves and vampires.”
“It was only the one vampire,” Coulson says. “And we did okay with that last werewolf pack once Steve actually realized they were werewolves and went through the protocol list that you made up.”
No one had died and Stiles hadn’t even had to leave the Helicarrier, he’d actually only found out about it when Steve had sought him out (the only Avenger besides Thor who isn’t actually based on Earth at the moment to not have already done so) to pat him on the shoulder and thank him for his assistance.
******************************************************************************
TITLE: Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD
RATING: PG-13 (for now)
PAIRING: Gen – but Stiles/Clint (eventually)
AUTHOR: Melanie
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel, MTV, etc own everything but the idea to mesh them..
FEEDBACK: Please?
Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 7/?
It takes them three days to work through the piles of paper and books, Crawford relaxes once they get the piles of paper relegated to folders in a cabinet and the books back on the shelves. Stiles feels better too because it means that he can Lysol the hell out of his desktop (as well as the rest of the office though he waits for Crawford to leave before doing so) and he has somewhere to set up his computer and pictures.
“I like order,” he says one night at dinner, they eat together after they finish their shift mostly because Stiles doesn’t like eating alone and he’s not that great at making friends. There’s a reason why Scott was his best and only friend for the longest time and it has very little to do with his ADHD and more to do with the fact that apparently he tries too hard and that drives people away instead.
“You couldn’t prove it by the piles of paper that I found on our office floor three days ago,” Crawford mutters.
“I was going to have a nervous breakdown working through them on my desk, it was better for both of us to just rip off the band-aid and deal with the issue head on.”
Dinner is some sort of meatloaf thing, Stiles’ is better; he’d perfected a non-meat version years ago that his dad still to this day doesn’t know contains no meat at all. The pack knows and they’ll actually eat it without throwing a fit which doesn’t really meananything since they’d actually eat raw meat if Stiles didn’t cook it out of fear of them all catching salmonella or mad cow disease or something.
“Except now I’m afraid one of the filing cabinets is going to explode.”
Stiles makes a face because the cabinets had been filled right to capacity. Crawford probably has a reason to worry. Except…
“They’re SHIELD filing cabinets, I’m pretty sure they’re reinforced to withstand attacks and shit.”
A tray clatters onto the table next to him and they both look over in askance. No one sits with them, not ever. It’s like being in high school again, only without the werewolves and Hunters and almost dying every week.
He would have thought working for SHIELD would be filled with more danger; instead he’s going on four weeks without a near death experience. It’s almost a record.
His actual record is 86 days; it probably doesn’t count though because he was visiting his grandmother for 84 of those days.
Clint is dropping into the chair next to him; Natasha sets her tray down much more quietly and slides into the seat next to Crawford. They’re both in civilian clothes though both are also visibly (and most likely invisibly) armed.
The expression on Crawford’s face would be hilarious if Stiles didn’t think his face looked exactly like that at the moment.
“Do you want us to move?” Stiles asks, they’re mostly done but if the cool kids want to lower themselves to eat in the cafeteria with the rest of them, well Stiles can give up his table.
“Why would you move, you were sitting here first?” Natasha asks, she’s poking suspiciously at her meatloaf.
Crawford looks at him and Stiles looks right back.
“We have to eat as well,” Clint says, if it were anyone else Stiles would say he sounds defensive. But Clint Barton is an Avenger and is tangling with vampires if not voluntarily then for a mission that is probably six levels above Stiles’ pay grade; he’s got no reason to sound defensive.
He kind of wants to ask about the vampire, find out if his advice was taken and they’d put it down or if he needs to stock up on garlic and crucifixes because they’ve got it locked up somewhere on the Helicarrier.
He doesn’t because Clint is shoveling food in his mouth at a pace that indicates he knows that it’s not going to taste any better if he eats it slow, Natasha is still poking at her food with her fork like she’s waiting for it to develop sentience and attack.
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says in a tone that he hopes conveys the fact that he knows that is bullshit but is going to let it slide since it’s 2/6 of the Avengers and he doesn’t feel like breaking his non-death experiences streak.
“He okay?” Clint points a fork at Crawford whose face is sheet white, Stiles is seriously worried that he might have a stroke at the table.
“He’s fine,” Stiles says and he shoots a look at Crawford that tells him to chill the fuck out.
“Stark’s been trying to get in touch with you,” Natasha says, she’s given up provoking her meatloaf into attacking her and pushed it, tray and all, across the table to Clint. He makes a face at it but doesn’t refuse, just puts that plate on top of his and shoves the tray aside.
“Why?” Stiles blinks, because he can’t think of any reason that Tony Stark would need to get in touch with him.
Unless…
But no, there’s no reason that Tony would be interested in the database, because he shouldn’t know that it exists.
There are six people that know about it, Stiles, Crawford, Lydia, Danny, Agent Coulson and Director Fury. Not even the pack knows about it, though he’s pretty sure that Derek and Allison know they’re working on something.
Derek knows that because Danny doesn’t like to keep secrets from Jackson, Stiles thinks that it actually physically hurts Danny to keep secrets from Jackson. If Jackson can ever get Lydia to not see Danny as a threat to their relationship they’re going to be fucking so fast…
Danny had told Jackson they were working on something, then asked him to not ask him what it was. Jackson, for all that Stiles thought he’d be weaseling for information, had respected whatever boundaries Danny had set up.
Allison knows because they’d had to ask to borrow the Argent’s Bestiary, they hadn’t kept it more than a couple of days, with all three of them typing they got it pretty uploaded pretty quick. She doesn’t ask them questions she knows they won’t answer, though she does poke at Lydia periodically.
“Stark said something about tests,” Natasha says, she’s peering at him like she can see his soul and finds it lacking in some way.
“Oh… I thought he’d forgot about that,” hoped was more like it, Stiles doesn’t get that lucky though as evidenced by his life to date.
“No, he just puts them on the backburner until they become more readily accessible. He’s been trying you on your phone but apparently it’s not working,” Clint piles his tray on top of Natasha’s and kind of leans back in his chair. On anyone else Stiles would call it a slouch but every muscle in his body speaks of the intent of leaping into battle if someone even so much as looks at them the wrong way.
“I don’t have a phone,” Stiles says. He used to, it was a really nice, one that he’d saved up for and begged his dad for money for the rest.
“What he means is he put it on vibrate because it was annoying him and it got filed in one of the filing cabinets when we were sorting through the metric ton of paperwork that Agent Markoff had left on his desk,” Crawford manages to say, he doesn’t make eye contact with either Natasha or Clint, instead choosing to focus on a spot on the wall between Clint and Stiles’ shoulders.
Clint looks at him and Crawford turns even whiter, mumbles something under his breath and bolts.
Natasha looks after him then looks back at Stiles. Stiles looks back and shrugs because if they don’t know the type of emotional impact they have on people then he’s not going to be the one to share it.
They didn’t capture the vampire, Stiles thanks god for small miracles.
There’s a two page report that shows up on his desk somehow, maybe there’s mail fairies that delivered it or something. If there are he wishes they’d do it on a daily basis, normally Crawford has to go out and pick it up because their office is locked down to only permit three people, with medical and Director Fury having override codes.
The vampire is dead, Clint had used bullets filled with garlic and holy water (a recipe that Stiles and the Argents came up with when Beacon Hills had a really determined vampiress that had locked on to Isaac, apparently his blood tastes like ambrosia instead of just, you know, blood) to take it out.
There’s a yellow sticky note attached to it with a scrawled; ‘Can you make this work for my bow?’
Stiles sends Allison an e-mail, copying himself and Agent Coulson with the request of ‘anti-vampire arrowheads, possible or not???’
Tony appears at the door of their office, Crawford is thankfully not there, he’s out doing whatever it is that he does when he’s not telling Stiles where to go and who he needs to report out to next.
The door should have been closed, it actually was closed and locked Stiles is sure of this; but Tony is suddenly standing there looking around so maybe it wasn’t?
“You need some color on the walls, this whole place screams mental institution to me,” Tony says.
“Well Crawford does scream periodically but mostly that’s because there’s a book in the wrong place. How did you get in here? That door was…” he waves a hand at it.
“Doors like me,” Tony smiles enigmatically at him and Stiles blinks, frowns.
“Did you break my door? Because that’s not cool, that door is the only thing standing between me and the line of cool people with cool jobs that want shit I can’t give them.”
“I didn’t break it,” Tony looks distressed that Stiles could think such a thing of him. “It was just missing some people on the approved list, so I made a few modifications.”
“You added all the Avengers to the approved list for my office? I’m going to have to let Crawford go to so many counseling sessions,” he mutters under his breath. He also wants to ask why the Avengers have seemingly adopted him, he has a family already.
“I heard that,” Tony is sort of poking around the office, looking at the bookcases, the filing cabinets with locks on them (it makes Crawford feel better that the papers they’ve stuffed in there can’t just leap out and smother him while he’s sitting at his desk unaware). There’s a white board with their wish list of things that would make their lives so much simpler if only they could figure out the requisition process.
“The list of shit I need to buy once I find out what exactly my department is, whether we have a budget and how much of it I can spend,” Stiles says when he sees Tony standing in front of it.
At the top of the list is phone. Stiles apparently didn’t pay the extra for insurance for his phone, so he’s either going to have to dump out the filing cabinets one by one until he finds it and Crawford quits to have his nervous breakdown or wait until his plan is ready for an upgrade.
“I can get most of this stuff,” Tony has his phone out and is punching away at it.
Stiles’ life is surreal, he’s across the room smacking at Tony’s hands before he thinks about what he’s doing or who he’s physically accosting.
Derek will be beyond thrilled if he gets his ass fired though.
“That’s why I have a department and supposedly a budget,” Stiles says, Tony’s got his phone held above his head and Stiles is almost taller than him he could probably knee him and get it but it seems like too much effort and also kind of like keep-away that he used to play with Scott.
“Yes, but this way you don’t have to wade through the bureaucracy and explain why you need it.”
“They’ll know why I need it, I’m actually surprised we don’t have it already, but maybe Agent Markoff spoke seven languages, two of them dead fluently. I unfortunately do not, so I need the Rosetta Stone in Russian or I’m going to need Russian for Dummies and about six additional months on all my requests.”
Tony barks out a laugh at him and pats him on the shoulder, hand coming up to curve around the back of his neck and Stiles puts his hands up and readies ‘Personal Space Bubble Speech 27’.
“Barton said you filed your phone,” Tony says, he lowers his arms and reaches into his pocket pulling out a shiny new phone. It’s one of the ones that Stiles has been drooling over, though would definitely not have been the one that he’d get. Even with his upgrade it would have been like $200 bucks. He’s got better stuff to spend his money on.
“I can’t take that,” Stiles says. He really wants it, he wants to cuddle it and name it George and fill it with pictures and apps and send pictures of himself holding it to Danny with ‘see what I’ve got’.
“Sure you can, consider it payment for letting me take pictures of your neck.”
Stiles learns that even if Tony tells him that yes, okay, he’ll let Stiles wade through the bureaucracy of figuring his own department out, well he’s actually going to completely ignore him.
He learns this when he comes into his office two days after Tony broke in and somehow reprogrammed the locks to allow Stiles, Crawford and the Avengers as a whole access, and locked everyone else out. IT is working on it but every time they manage to reprogram them the program rewrites itself.
He walks in and finds Crawford drooling over Rosetta Stone boxes in all the languages they’d had on their white board (as well as a few that weren’t there) and petting his own new shiny phone.
“Pick your battles, Stiles,” Crawford advises him. “Agent Markoff has had requisitions in for almost seven months for just the Russian and Latin versions, and they certainly wouldn’t have given us new phones that are smarter than our computers and could probably do our jobs given half a chance and actual bodies.”
“He’s going to think he owns us,” Stiles mutters, he doesn’t mention the likelihood that the phones are bugged because of Crawford hasn’t figured that out, well, he’s not as smart as Stiles thinks he is.
Stiles meets Dr. Banner when Tony finally programs enough appointments into his phone and directly with Crawford that eventually he has to show up for one or run the risk of Crawford dragging him there like a recalcitrant child kicking and screaming the entire way.
Tony shoves him into a shiny metal tube and runs a gamut of ‘normal’ tests on him. He’d already taken half his blood supply, plucked hair from his head and made him pee in a cup (thankfully he was allowed privacy for that, though only because he shut the door in Tony’s face when he was making like he was going to follow him).
It’s very boring in the metal tube and he’s hoping that Tony hasn’t forgotten about him and wandered off to do other, more important, things. At the very least he knows he won’t be stuck here indefinitely, someone will eventually, hopefully, miss him. And Crawford had been the one to send him here to be poked and prodded so he’s almost sure if he doesn’t reappear at some point Crawford will also be the one to notify Agent Coulson who will then send either Clint or Natasha to come force Tony to release him from captivity.
He doesn’t need any of that, because after about an eternity (the clock in the corner of the room says it’s been an hour and 17 minutes but Stiles doesn’t trust it) Tony lets him out.
“So am I dying of some rare as of yet never seen before form of cancer?” Stiles says, his arm still hurts from where Tony had taken the blood.
That’s when he notices the other guy, head bent close to Tony’s as they peruse a pile of papers that are most likely about him.
“Agent Stilinksi, Dr. Bruce Banner,” Tony waves a hand but doesn’t look back at him.
“Hello,” Bruce kind of smiles a small, closed-mouthed smile at him. Stiles tries not to think about the fact that if he gets pissed off he turns into a giant green monster that can level city blocks and take out flying alien monsters.
“Hi, and Specialist,” Stiles says, he pulls a t-shirt and sweat pants on because he’s cold and also really underdressed.
“What?” Tony looks up, he looks perplexed, it’s amusing in a way.
“Specialist, not Agent. I’m pretty sure Agents get paid a lot more than me,” Stiles says, he crosses his arms over his chest and kind of huddles in on himself for warmth. He’s really cold for some reason; maybe the blood loss is kicking in? Either that or Tony turned the air on.
“Oh, I could have sworn…” Tony shakes his head.
“So?” Stiles waves a hand at the print outs that they’re still mostly bent over.
“You’re human,” Bruce says, he shrugs a little.
“I didn’t realize that was in doubt.”
“You are distressingly normal,” Tony says, he walks over to him, poking him in the arm that he’d taken the blood from, it hurts so Stiles smacks a hand in his direction. He pokes him in the neck a couple of times and then wanders over to another table that probably doesn’t contain printouts and biological material that in the wrong hands could be used to create another him.
“Did you think you were going to shove me in a shiny metal tube and find a well of magic in the base of my neck or something?” Stiles asks, because that’s hilarious and if it’s true then he needs to share it with everyone.
“No, of course not,” Tony scoffs. Bruce rolls his eyes at him and Stiles just sort of grins.
Stiles could have just told him that there’s nothing special about him and saved his blood supply and almost 2 hours of his day. Next time he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut about things that don’t have rational explanations.
Unless they’re werewolves, vampires, gnomes, fairies, etc, etc, etc.
Clint is waiting in his office when he gets back. He actually jumps when he walks in because he hadn’t been expecting someone and then there was someone perched in the corner of his office like a gargoyle.
It’s like being back home and having Derek hovering outside his window or behind his door waiting to demand things from him.
At least he doesn’t have a weapon out which means that he’s not there to kill him.
“I thought you told us to avoid vampires when at all possible,” Clint says, Stiles blinks at him because what the fuck?
He realizes after a second that Clint is looking at his arm, “Oh, Tony, I probably would have had more fun with a vampire, at least I would have gotten off before dying of blood loss.”
Clint huffs a sound that could probably be a laugh so Stiles doesn’t die of embarrassment when he replays what he just said in his head.
“The Avengers seem to have adopted me,” Stiles says at one of his mandatory meetings with Coulson. “How do I get them to unadopt me?”
“You could not display knowledge that they don’t have and means to prove it through personal experiences,” Coulson says, though his tone asks him why he would want to.
“Alright,” Stiles agrees. “As long as you get them to stop running into werewolves and vampires.”
“It was only the one vampire,” Coulson says. “And we did okay with that last werewolf pack once Steve actually realized they were werewolves and went through the protocol list that you made up.”
No one had died and Stiles hadn’t even had to leave the Helicarrier, he’d actually only found out about it when Steve had sought him out (the only Avenger besides Thor who isn’t actually based on Earth at the moment to not have already done so) to pat him on the shoulder and thank him for his assistance.