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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 12/?
Crawford looks beyond relieved and more than a little agitated when Stiles shows up in the morning, he thinks that’s mostly because of the check that he’s waving around in his hand.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he’s saying, actually he’s more screeching it. It would be amusing if Stiles hadn’t already started out the morning with a mild headache which his father had only exacerbated by arguing with him about his morning cup of coffee.
He’s allowed one cup, he’d asked upon his discharge from medical and his doctor had said that as long as it was one cup and one cup only it would be fine.
“It’s a check,” Stiles says, once he manages to corral Crawford’s flailing limbs. “You cash it.”
“It’s a check from Tony Stark,” Crawford says in a low voice that Stiles knows from past experience indicates that he’s about 30 seconds away from a panic attack, it’s why they have the cushions and candles and a Corner of Serenity set up in, well a corner of their office, “for more than I actually spent on all my Christmas presents this year, last year and the year before. I can’t take this.”
Stiles frowns at him, “why not?”
Crawford just sputters at him and Stiles takes that as an indication that whatever is going on in Crawford’s head is calming down (otherwise he’d still be screeching) and goes over to his desk. He starts his computer up, sets his phone down so he can sync it up.
“Do I have anything of note this morning?” he asks, “also did you let Tony near my computer?”
Crawford just blinks at him, still coming down from his Tony Stark induced break.
“Why?” he asks, there’s still a high pitched tone to his voice, a paper fluttering to the ground or an Avenger coming through the door could be just enough to set him off again.
“No reason,” Stiles shakes his head, Crawford narrows his eyes at him and rounds his desk.
“I should probably not sync my phone with my computer just in case, right?”
On his computer waving at them and making crude hand gestures is a digital representation of Tony Stark. It’s probably a good thing he keeps the volume off on his computer.
******************************************************************************
He’s working on the other computer, the one not plugged into any network and therefore not contaminated with Tony’s digital presence. He’d needed to do some updates on the program anyway, and he wanted to get them done so he could save it to disc for Danny and Lydia.
“It’s like Max Headroom,” Crawford snaps his fingers from his own desk where his computer is thankfully ‘Tony’ free.
“What?”
“Max Headroom, that old show with the AI in the computer show, my mom liked it,” Crawford says defensively even though Stiles didn’t say a word.
Stiles glances over at his computer where ‘Tony’ is now sporting black sunglasses and bobbing his head, he’s somehow figured out the volume is off and apparently can’t turn it on himself so he (it) has resorted to thought bubbles.
(But cooler, much, much cooler), flashes on the screen and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“You’ve got a 10:30 with Agent Coulson,” Crawford reminds him.
Stiles glances down at his watch, 10:20 now, he can probably make it there in 10 minutes.
He pushes away from the desk, stretches and then grabs his notebook and a binder off his desk. He reaches for his phone and watches as ‘Tony’ smirks at him.
“Yeah, I’m not going to take my phone with me so why don’t you meet me at noon and we’ll go to lunch from there.”
(Spoilsport.)
******************************************************************************
Steve is coming out of Agent Coulson’s office, his father right behind him when Stiles gets there.
“Um,” he starts because he’d thought his father was going to do some sightseeing in the city. That’s what he’d been told that morning in between getting yelled at for drinking coffee and having bacon that he wouldn’t let his father fry up in his freezer of refrigerator that is not his own.
“I thought your dad might be bored,” Steve says.
“He was going to do some sightseeing,” Stiles says. “And I offered to take vacation.”
“You’re taking vacation to come home,” his father reminds him, “no sense using it up here, besides I’m an adult I can manage to entertain myself for eight hours.”
“But you’re here instead?”
“When Captain America…”
“Call me Steve.”
“…shows up your doorstep and offers a tour of the Helicarrier, well,” his dad shrugs his ‘what are you going to do’ shrug.
Stiles blinks at him and looks over at Steve.
“Agent Coulson wanted to have a few words with him prior to the tour,” Steve says.
“And have me sign a non-disclosure agreement and confiscate my cell phone and any video recording devices I might have had on me. I’ll get the phone back, right?”
“Just don’t let Tony near it,” Steve warns.
“Or he’ll violate it and you’ll end up taking an AI home with you.”
******************************************************************************
Agent Coulson is sitting behind his desk, hands crossed in front of him, ignoring his laptop. It’s so completely abnormal that he knows that if he were to take his life in his own hands and go around the other side of the desk that he would see ‘Tony’ doing something inappropriate for child audiences.
“Tony violated your computer, didn’t he?”
“I already have a call into IT,” Coulson says, his eyes glance over at the screen and narrow at whatever he finds there.
“It seems to be impervious, every time IT thought they had it removed from mine he’d pop back up and flip them off,” Stiles says. “I guess I should be glad that it hasn’t infected Crawford’s yet, he might never come back into our office.”
******************************************************************************
Tony comes for them personally the morning of the 22nd, all smiles and dark circles under his eyes.
“Are you not sleeping?” Stiles asks, his bags are packed, two of them going with him to Beacon Hills the rest ready to be transported through some mysterious means back to his room on the Helicarrier.
“I was working on something,” Tony says defensively. “Pepper already yelled at me so I’ve hit my daily quota, try again tomorrow.”
“I figured the whole group of you would traipse up here to pick us up,” his dad says.
“Well they would have, but Barton got some mysterious phone call at 6 this morning so he was already gone and Steve sucks at rock paper scissors so you just get me,” he holds out his arms and grins maniacally at them.
So no sleep and possibly more than his daily allotment of caffeine.
The flight is a couple hours; maybe he can convince both his dad and Tony to take naps. Or maybe he can convince his dad to take a nap and Tony to take his artificial counterpart off his computer.
Because his computer is still infected with ‘Tony’ (IT has all but given up, they make token efforts every morning but mostly just tell him he needs a new computer that Tony Stark doesn’t have access to), he doesn’t mind so much, he at least allows Stiles to check his e-mail and run his searches so long as Stiles turns the volume on and lets him blather on about whatever strikes his fancy for 10 minutes in the morning and 30 right before they leave for the day.
“Hey maybe when I come back my computer won’t have to have time outs anymore when it breaks out the potty mouth language.”
******************************************************************************
By mysterious phone call apparently Clint had been sent out on assignment. Stiles realizes this when they get to the jet and the pilot is not somebody that he recognizes and Clint is nowhere to be seen.
Everyone else is there, save for Dr. Banner.
“He doesn’t really like flying on the jet,” Steve says apologetically, like Stiles is going to take offense that Bruce doesn’t want to accompany him and the rest of his babysitters to Beacon Hills for the drop off. Stiles is fine with Bruce not coming, because that means Bruce not getting agitated for some reason on the plane, the Hulk making an appearance and the remainder of them plummeting to their deaths when he punches a hole in the side of the jet.
“It’s all fine,” Stiles says. He’d be more inclined to be upset about Clint not being there because he’s always there and it seems kind of weird for him to all of a sudden not be.
******************************************************************************
Derek and Scott are the only ones waiting for the jet when it finally comes to a stop and the steps come down.
“That way we only had to bring one car,” Scott says as he hugs Stiles hard enough to make it kind of difficult to breathe for a couple of seconds.
“Dude, I think you broke ribs,” Stiles wheezes when Scott releases him, Scott just grins at him, draping an arm over his shoulder.
“Stiles,” Derek inclines his head at him.
“Derek,” Stiles nods back. “What, I don’t get a crushing bear hug?”
Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles grins.
“I don’t want your protection detail to think I’m assaulting you,” he says, head jerking in the direction of the jet. Steve is standing there, arms crossed over his chest looking as All-American as apple pie even in jeans and a sweatshirt.
He waves and Steve relaxes, waving back. They don’t hang around waiting for the jet to leave because Scott drags Stiles towards the car and Derek is talking to his dad in quiet voices as they walk ahead of them.
He crosses his fingers and hopes for non-supernatural type activities for his Christmas vacation. He’s not holding his breath, but he thinks he’s due for a break so maybe…?
******************************************************************************
They spend a day and a half in their own house, its radio silence from the Avengers which was expected but still makes something twinge in the vicinity of his heart. And a revolving door of the pack coming and going.
Scott is camped out in their living room, watching TV and drinking all the soda that Stiles found in the cupboard and glared at his father about.
His father is decidedly unrepentant and Stiles is going to have to talk to the cashiers at the grocery stores and the mini mart again before he leaves.
“The house is yours, we don’t normally search it,” Scott says and he offers him the bag of chips. There are crumbs left in the bottom and Stiles makes a face and waves it off. “I mean we can, especially now that your dad knows, but it was the one thing that you always did when you came back, so…”
“It’s fine,” Stiles says.
His phone vibrates in his hand and he grins when he sees the name flash across the screen.
“Hey, I thought you were on an assignment?”
“I am,” he hears, there’s something that sounds like gunfire in the background and Stiles frowns, next to him Scott isn’t even pretending to not be listening in. “It’s just wrapping up now, but I wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas and I won’t be able to tomorrow.”
“I would have taken a day after Christmas phone call if it meant that I didn’t need to hear gunfire, and is that a helicopter or something?”
“Good ear,” Clint’s voice sounds kind of far away. “That’s my ride, so Merry Christmas and I’ll call you after I debrief.”
Stiles goes to say ‘you don’t have to do that’ and ‘I think you just broke three regulations by calling me from whatever war zone you’re in’ but there’s nobody there to say it to so he hangs up instead.
“That man has a crush on you,” Scott says, he’s licking his fingers and dragging them along the bottom of the chip bag, wagging his eyebrows at him. He looks ridiculous.
“No he doesn’t,” Stiles says. “And I think dad has another bag of those hidden in the pantry behind the bottles of juice if you’re done killing that one.”
******************************************************************************
The plan is to put the tree up and decorate it on Christmas Eve at Hale House.
“It’s not falling apart anymore, right?” Stiles asks. It’s been a while since he’s had to hang out there for any length of time, but the last time the humans had been sequestered there they’d spent most of the time kind of tapping their feet out in front of them hoping to not find loose floorboards they would then subsequently fall through.
“Derek and Peter have got it mostly done, the only thing really left to do is the expansion but everyone’s got their own room for when we have pack sleepovers.”
“You mean there’s no forced pack cuddle times?”
“Only on Sundays,” Scott grins.
They’re stuffed into Stiles’ jeep with presents piled high, pressing into the back of their seats and going clear back to the rear window; they have absolutely no visibility out the back window. They’re fucked if they get pulled over.
There’s mistletoe hanging by the front door that Stiles manages to avoid by following in Scott’s footsteps.
“Spoilsport,” Lydia smirks at him from just inside the doorway, then presses a kiss to his and Scott’s cheeks while Jackson growls from across the room.
“If anyone wants to open presents tomorrow I need help unloading Stiles’ car,” Scott says and the pack moves as one to go help, Jackson included. Stiles doesn’t go with them because Lydia loops her arm through his and tugs him over to what seems to be the snack table.
“I could have brought them in,” Stiles says.
“Let the wolves do it,” Danny says. “It won’t take them as long and possibly nothing will be broken on Christmas morning.”
“I’ll have you know that I outgrew the klutz thing in like 9th grade,” Stiles mutters.
“And yet still managed to fall down a perfectly clear flight of stairs in twelfth,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him and Danny smirks back.
“Falls occurring while being chased by werewolves, ghosts and that gremlin goblin thing don’t count as klutziness.”
“Not to interrupt this absolutely fascinating discussion as to whether or not you’re still a klutz, news flash, you are. Jackson is a sucker for presents, what did you get him so I can brace him for crap if needed,” Lydia says.
“What if I didn’t get him anything?” Stiles asks as he takes a small plate and starts piling it high, Lydia raises an eyebrow at him.
“Okay I got him something, the Christmas list idea came in handy because otherwise he would have gotten either handkerchiefs or chocolate which are my default when I don’t know what to get somebody.”
“Danny’s idea,” Lydia tilts her head in Danny’s direction and Danny smiles softly at her.
Stiles blinks at them and stuffs a faux peanut butter ball in his mouth and doesn’t say anything because talking with his mouth full is rude and he really doesn’t have anything to say because apparently Scott dropped the ball on notifying him about developments in that arena.
******************************************************************************
Scott’s a liar that lies, they do have pack cuddle time; everyone curled up together in what he guesses is the family room. There’s thick blankets on the floor and a low fire going. Someone has left the TV on and someone else has left music playing.
It’s calm and peaceful, at 12:01 am his phone vibrates against his hip six times in quick succession with Merry Christmas texts from Tony, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Agent Coulson and an unknown number that he’s assuming is probably Clint because nobody else has his number save for the Avengers and the people surrounding him.
******************************************************************************
Derek is thrilled with his Keurig, his face doesn’t change expressions but Stiles can tell by how he’s a little less frowny when he tears the paper and realizes what it is. Danny and Lydia had gone in together on about $200 worth of assorted coffees.
“I call first cup,” Stiles says.
“Only if you set it up,” Derek says.
“Deal,” Stiles makes gimme motions with his hands, Derek hands it over gently like it’ll explode if not treated with care and respect. It’ll have a name by the end of the day; Stiles would be willing to put money on that.
Lydia follows him into the kitchen, evidently to make sure she gets the second one.
“You and Danny went in halvesies on a Christmas present, was there a price limit that I should have known about?”
“You work for SHIELD and are buddy buddy with Tony Stark, are you telling me you can’t afford it?” Lydia asks as she watches him set up the coffee maker.
“I’m not buddies with Tony Stark,” Stiles says, he’s pulling tape and foam off the Keurig, it was the most advanced one that they had, he’s pretty sure it could raise any cubs the pack decides to have.
Lydia pshaws at him and he frowns over at her.
“I’m not, I’m like a novelty or something, you know because of the werewolves and all that stuff. Eventually they’ll get bored or Tony’ll write a program that does what I do and I’ll be discarded to the back of the toy closet.”
Lydia stares at him with her ‘you are the stupidest person alive’ eyes. It’s unnerving.
“They’re your friends and can I be there when you tell them you think that? I think the blow up will be interesting to say the least.”
“If Tony doesn’t have us bugged or satellites pointed in this direction I’d be shocked.”
Lydia mutters something under her breath and Stiles looks over at her.
“Don’t mind me, I just figured with working for SHIELD and the Avengers that your self-esteem would be at an all-time high but I can see that Peter and I should have gone in halvesies on therapy after all.”
“Why are you even thinking about going in on presents with Peter? Is there something going on I should know about?”
“Not the point,” Lydia states. “Your archer called you from on assignment, don’t try and deny it, Scott told me; you got texts this morning from every single one of them to wish you a Merry Christmas. That doesn’t make you a toy, it makes you a friend.”
Presents are still being unwrapped in the living room and he gets tackle hugged from behind by Allison breaking his eye contact with Lydia, when he looks back over she’s studying her fingernails in a manner that he knows from past experience means that she’s done discussing this.
For now anyway.
“Best Christmas present ever,” she squeals, then whispers. “I won’t tell Scott if you won’t.”
Lydia laughs.
“Clint said he put a list of what each of the arrows does and how to set them up, but he couldn’t give you a bow or quiver because SHIELD holds the patents for them so we’re on our own for making them work,” Stiles says.
“If SHIELD can figure it out I think we can figure it out too,” Lydia says, she’s already looking at the list that Allison had in her hand, Allison is cooing over the box.
He grins to himself and goes back to setting the coffee maker up. Allison’s present was partially his way of saying thank you for the help she’s giving him for getting Clint’s Christmas present ready and a thank you from Clint because apparently she’d come to talk to him when he’d been missing.
And if he chooses to not look too closely as to why of all of the presents he’s had to choose this year that Clint’s was the most important that’s his own business.
******************************************************************************
Crawford calls on the morning of the 31st, to be honest Stiles had been expecting him to call sooner to at least wish him a Merry Christmas or even belated, but there’d been nothing. It had sent the back of his neck twinging but the most supernatural thing in Crawford’s life, from what Stiles can tell, is him.
So he should be having a nice, safe, free of all the stuff they’ve been reading about, Christmas.
“Hey, how’s your Christmas going?” Stiles asks.
Crawford is silent on the other end for long seconds, long enough that Stiles goes still and as such gains the attention of everyone else in the room.
“Crawford?”
“On your way back to the city can you pick me up?” Crawford asks finally, his voice is soft, like he doesn’t want to be heard and there’s something… thick in it. He doesn’t sound right and the second he gets off the phone he’s calling Tony to have him find out where Crawford is.
“I thought you had a round trip ticket?” Stiles asks. “Is something wrong? I can call Tony and have someone come get you right now.”
“No!” Crawford says, his voice breaks and Stiles bites his lips and turns his back on the pack, crossing one arm over his chest.
“Crawford tell me what’s going on, right now, or you find whichever one of the Avengers answers their phone first on your doorstep.”
Crawford clears his throat, “It was…it was just a bad trip home, I… I should have stayed in the city, worked through it, I could have started going through the filing cabinets that are going to explode one of these days, no matter what you say.”
“They’ve got locks on them, they’re fine.”
“I’m okay, I’m staying at a hotel in Chicago, and I don’t, I left my bag at my parents and my tickets in it and I can’t go back, I can’t,” Crawford’s voice breaks again and Stiles has never heard him talk about his family, but Crawford had always struck him as kind of private so he’d left it alone.
“It’s okay, you’ve got your license and your SHIELD ID’s right?” Crawford makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative. “I’ll call you when the jet picks me up and you’ll just meet me at the strip, okay?”
“Okay,” Crawford says. “I am okay, you know.”
“I don’t believe you, dude. But you can try and convince me some more when I see you in a couple of days.”
******************************************************************************
Stiles gets passed around like a party favor come midnight, kisses from everyone and everyone kissing everyone else. It’s like a big old orgy of kissing though he could have done without Peter trying to slip him some tongue.
He does manage to go to bed by himself though, he’s drunk enough that he’s not worrying about Crawford, but he’s not sober enough to not be thinking about people that he shouldn’t be thinking about while jerking off.
He has half a brain cell to spare to be thankful that of all the powers and abilities the Avengers have, telepathy doesn’t rank among any of them; though doing this in a houseful of wolves is going to get him mocked in the morning.
So if he whispers a name when he comes it’s between him, his hand and his dick.
And any of the werewolves that still happen to be awake.
******************************************************************************
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 12/?
Crawford looks beyond relieved and more than a little agitated when Stiles shows up in the morning, he thinks that’s mostly because of the check that he’s waving around in his hand.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he’s saying, actually he’s more screeching it. It would be amusing if Stiles hadn’t already started out the morning with a mild headache which his father had only exacerbated by arguing with him about his morning cup of coffee.
He’s allowed one cup, he’d asked upon his discharge from medical and his doctor had said that as long as it was one cup and one cup only it would be fine.
“It’s a check,” Stiles says, once he manages to corral Crawford’s flailing limbs. “You cash it.”
“It’s a check from Tony Stark,” Crawford says in a low voice that Stiles knows from past experience indicates that he’s about 30 seconds away from a panic attack, it’s why they have the cushions and candles and a Corner of Serenity set up in, well a corner of their office, “for more than I actually spent on all my Christmas presents this year, last year and the year before. I can’t take this.”
Stiles frowns at him, “why not?”
Crawford just sputters at him and Stiles takes that as an indication that whatever is going on in Crawford’s head is calming down (otherwise he’d still be screeching) and goes over to his desk. He starts his computer up, sets his phone down so he can sync it up.
“Do I have anything of note this morning?” he asks, “also did you let Tony near my computer?”
Crawford just blinks at him, still coming down from his Tony Stark induced break.
“Why?” he asks, there’s still a high pitched tone to his voice, a paper fluttering to the ground or an Avenger coming through the door could be just enough to set him off again.
“No reason,” Stiles shakes his head, Crawford narrows his eyes at him and rounds his desk.
“I should probably not sync my phone with my computer just in case, right?”
On his computer waving at them and making crude hand gestures is a digital representation of Tony Stark. It’s probably a good thing he keeps the volume off on his computer.
He’s working on the other computer, the one not plugged into any network and therefore not contaminated with Tony’s digital presence. He’d needed to do some updates on the program anyway, and he wanted to get them done so he could save it to disc for Danny and Lydia.
“It’s like Max Headroom,” Crawford snaps his fingers from his own desk where his computer is thankfully ‘Tony’ free.
“What?”
“Max Headroom, that old show with the AI in the computer show, my mom liked it,” Crawford says defensively even though Stiles didn’t say a word.
Stiles glances over at his computer where ‘Tony’ is now sporting black sunglasses and bobbing his head, he’s somehow figured out the volume is off and apparently can’t turn it on himself so he (it) has resorted to thought bubbles.
(But cooler, much, much cooler), flashes on the screen and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“You’ve got a 10:30 with Agent Coulson,” Crawford reminds him.
Stiles glances down at his watch, 10:20 now, he can probably make it there in 10 minutes.
He pushes away from the desk, stretches and then grabs his notebook and a binder off his desk. He reaches for his phone and watches as ‘Tony’ smirks at him.
“Yeah, I’m not going to take my phone with me so why don’t you meet me at noon and we’ll go to lunch from there.”
(Spoilsport.)
Steve is coming out of Agent Coulson’s office, his father right behind him when Stiles gets there.
“Um,” he starts because he’d thought his father was going to do some sightseeing in the city. That’s what he’d been told that morning in between getting yelled at for drinking coffee and having bacon that he wouldn’t let his father fry up in his freezer of refrigerator that is not his own.
“I thought your dad might be bored,” Steve says.
“He was going to do some sightseeing,” Stiles says. “And I offered to take vacation.”
“You’re taking vacation to come home,” his father reminds him, “no sense using it up here, besides I’m an adult I can manage to entertain myself for eight hours.”
“But you’re here instead?”
“When Captain America…”
“Call me Steve.”
“…shows up your doorstep and offers a tour of the Helicarrier, well,” his dad shrugs his ‘what are you going to do’ shrug.
Stiles blinks at him and looks over at Steve.
“Agent Coulson wanted to have a few words with him prior to the tour,” Steve says.
“And have me sign a non-disclosure agreement and confiscate my cell phone and any video recording devices I might have had on me. I’ll get the phone back, right?”
“Just don’t let Tony near it,” Steve warns.
“Or he’ll violate it and you’ll end up taking an AI home with you.”
Agent Coulson is sitting behind his desk, hands crossed in front of him, ignoring his laptop. It’s so completely abnormal that he knows that if he were to take his life in his own hands and go around the other side of the desk that he would see ‘Tony’ doing something inappropriate for child audiences.
“Tony violated your computer, didn’t he?”
“I already have a call into IT,” Coulson says, his eyes glance over at the screen and narrow at whatever he finds there.
“It seems to be impervious, every time IT thought they had it removed from mine he’d pop back up and flip them off,” Stiles says. “I guess I should be glad that it hasn’t infected Crawford’s yet, he might never come back into our office.”
Tony comes for them personally the morning of the 22nd, all smiles and dark circles under his eyes.
“Are you not sleeping?” Stiles asks, his bags are packed, two of them going with him to Beacon Hills the rest ready to be transported through some mysterious means back to his room on the Helicarrier.
“I was working on something,” Tony says defensively. “Pepper already yelled at me so I’ve hit my daily quota, try again tomorrow.”
“I figured the whole group of you would traipse up here to pick us up,” his dad says.
“Well they would have, but Barton got some mysterious phone call at 6 this morning so he was already gone and Steve sucks at rock paper scissors so you just get me,” he holds out his arms and grins maniacally at them.
So no sleep and possibly more than his daily allotment of caffeine.
The flight is a couple hours; maybe he can convince both his dad and Tony to take naps. Or maybe he can convince his dad to take a nap and Tony to take his artificial counterpart off his computer.
Because his computer is still infected with ‘Tony’ (IT has all but given up, they make token efforts every morning but mostly just tell him he needs a new computer that Tony Stark doesn’t have access to), he doesn’t mind so much, he at least allows Stiles to check his e-mail and run his searches so long as Stiles turns the volume on and lets him blather on about whatever strikes his fancy for 10 minutes in the morning and 30 right before they leave for the day.
“Hey maybe when I come back my computer won’t have to have time outs anymore when it breaks out the potty mouth language.”
By mysterious phone call apparently Clint had been sent out on assignment. Stiles realizes this when they get to the jet and the pilot is not somebody that he recognizes and Clint is nowhere to be seen.
Everyone else is there, save for Dr. Banner.
“He doesn’t really like flying on the jet,” Steve says apologetically, like Stiles is going to take offense that Bruce doesn’t want to accompany him and the rest of his babysitters to Beacon Hills for the drop off. Stiles is fine with Bruce not coming, because that means Bruce not getting agitated for some reason on the plane, the Hulk making an appearance and the remainder of them plummeting to their deaths when he punches a hole in the side of the jet.
“It’s all fine,” Stiles says. He’d be more inclined to be upset about Clint not being there because he’s always there and it seems kind of weird for him to all of a sudden not be.
Derek and Scott are the only ones waiting for the jet when it finally comes to a stop and the steps come down.
“That way we only had to bring one car,” Scott says as he hugs Stiles hard enough to make it kind of difficult to breathe for a couple of seconds.
“Dude, I think you broke ribs,” Stiles wheezes when Scott releases him, Scott just grins at him, draping an arm over his shoulder.
“Stiles,” Derek inclines his head at him.
“Derek,” Stiles nods back. “What, I don’t get a crushing bear hug?”
Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles grins.
“I don’t want your protection detail to think I’m assaulting you,” he says, head jerking in the direction of the jet. Steve is standing there, arms crossed over his chest looking as All-American as apple pie even in jeans and a sweatshirt.
He waves and Steve relaxes, waving back. They don’t hang around waiting for the jet to leave because Scott drags Stiles towards the car and Derek is talking to his dad in quiet voices as they walk ahead of them.
He crosses his fingers and hopes for non-supernatural type activities for his Christmas vacation. He’s not holding his breath, but he thinks he’s due for a break so maybe…?
They spend a day and a half in their own house, its radio silence from the Avengers which was expected but still makes something twinge in the vicinity of his heart. And a revolving door of the pack coming and going.
Scott is camped out in their living room, watching TV and drinking all the soda that Stiles found in the cupboard and glared at his father about.
His father is decidedly unrepentant and Stiles is going to have to talk to the cashiers at the grocery stores and the mini mart again before he leaves.
“The house is yours, we don’t normally search it,” Scott says and he offers him the bag of chips. There are crumbs left in the bottom and Stiles makes a face and waves it off. “I mean we can, especially now that your dad knows, but it was the one thing that you always did when you came back, so…”
“It’s fine,” Stiles says.
His phone vibrates in his hand and he grins when he sees the name flash across the screen.
“Hey, I thought you were on an assignment?”
“I am,” he hears, there’s something that sounds like gunfire in the background and Stiles frowns, next to him Scott isn’t even pretending to not be listening in. “It’s just wrapping up now, but I wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas and I won’t be able to tomorrow.”
“I would have taken a day after Christmas phone call if it meant that I didn’t need to hear gunfire, and is that a helicopter or something?”
“Good ear,” Clint’s voice sounds kind of far away. “That’s my ride, so Merry Christmas and I’ll call you after I debrief.”
Stiles goes to say ‘you don’t have to do that’ and ‘I think you just broke three regulations by calling me from whatever war zone you’re in’ but there’s nobody there to say it to so he hangs up instead.
“That man has a crush on you,” Scott says, he’s licking his fingers and dragging them along the bottom of the chip bag, wagging his eyebrows at him. He looks ridiculous.
“No he doesn’t,” Stiles says. “And I think dad has another bag of those hidden in the pantry behind the bottles of juice if you’re done killing that one.”
The plan is to put the tree up and decorate it on Christmas Eve at Hale House.
“It’s not falling apart anymore, right?” Stiles asks. It’s been a while since he’s had to hang out there for any length of time, but the last time the humans had been sequestered there they’d spent most of the time kind of tapping their feet out in front of them hoping to not find loose floorboards they would then subsequently fall through.
“Derek and Peter have got it mostly done, the only thing really left to do is the expansion but everyone’s got their own room for when we have pack sleepovers.”
“You mean there’s no forced pack cuddle times?”
“Only on Sundays,” Scott grins.
They’re stuffed into Stiles’ jeep with presents piled high, pressing into the back of their seats and going clear back to the rear window; they have absolutely no visibility out the back window. They’re fucked if they get pulled over.
There’s mistletoe hanging by the front door that Stiles manages to avoid by following in Scott’s footsteps.
“Spoilsport,” Lydia smirks at him from just inside the doorway, then presses a kiss to his and Scott’s cheeks while Jackson growls from across the room.
“If anyone wants to open presents tomorrow I need help unloading Stiles’ car,” Scott says and the pack moves as one to go help, Jackson included. Stiles doesn’t go with them because Lydia loops her arm through his and tugs him over to what seems to be the snack table.
“I could have brought them in,” Stiles says.
“Let the wolves do it,” Danny says. “It won’t take them as long and possibly nothing will be broken on Christmas morning.”
“I’ll have you know that I outgrew the klutz thing in like 9th grade,” Stiles mutters.
“And yet still managed to fall down a perfectly clear flight of stairs in twelfth,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him and Danny smirks back.
“Falls occurring while being chased by werewolves, ghosts and that gremlin goblin thing don’t count as klutziness.”
“Not to interrupt this absolutely fascinating discussion as to whether or not you’re still a klutz, news flash, you are. Jackson is a sucker for presents, what did you get him so I can brace him for crap if needed,” Lydia says.
“What if I didn’t get him anything?” Stiles asks as he takes a small plate and starts piling it high, Lydia raises an eyebrow at him.
“Okay I got him something, the Christmas list idea came in handy because otherwise he would have gotten either handkerchiefs or chocolate which are my default when I don’t know what to get somebody.”
“Danny’s idea,” Lydia tilts her head in Danny’s direction and Danny smiles softly at her.
Stiles blinks at them and stuffs a faux peanut butter ball in his mouth and doesn’t say anything because talking with his mouth full is rude and he really doesn’t have anything to say because apparently Scott dropped the ball on notifying him about developments in that arena.
Scott’s a liar that lies, they do have pack cuddle time; everyone curled up together in what he guesses is the family room. There’s thick blankets on the floor and a low fire going. Someone has left the TV on and someone else has left music playing.
It’s calm and peaceful, at 12:01 am his phone vibrates against his hip six times in quick succession with Merry Christmas texts from Tony, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Agent Coulson and an unknown number that he’s assuming is probably Clint because nobody else has his number save for the Avengers and the people surrounding him.
Derek is thrilled with his Keurig, his face doesn’t change expressions but Stiles can tell by how he’s a little less frowny when he tears the paper and realizes what it is. Danny and Lydia had gone in together on about $200 worth of assorted coffees.
“I call first cup,” Stiles says.
“Only if you set it up,” Derek says.
“Deal,” Stiles makes gimme motions with his hands, Derek hands it over gently like it’ll explode if not treated with care and respect. It’ll have a name by the end of the day; Stiles would be willing to put money on that.
Lydia follows him into the kitchen, evidently to make sure she gets the second one.
“You and Danny went in halvesies on a Christmas present, was there a price limit that I should have known about?”
“You work for SHIELD and are buddy buddy with Tony Stark, are you telling me you can’t afford it?” Lydia asks as she watches him set up the coffee maker.
“I’m not buddies with Tony Stark,” Stiles says, he’s pulling tape and foam off the Keurig, it was the most advanced one that they had, he’s pretty sure it could raise any cubs the pack decides to have.
Lydia pshaws at him and he frowns over at her.
“I’m not, I’m like a novelty or something, you know because of the werewolves and all that stuff. Eventually they’ll get bored or Tony’ll write a program that does what I do and I’ll be discarded to the back of the toy closet.”
Lydia stares at him with her ‘you are the stupidest person alive’ eyes. It’s unnerving.
“They’re your friends and can I be there when you tell them you think that? I think the blow up will be interesting to say the least.”
“If Tony doesn’t have us bugged or satellites pointed in this direction I’d be shocked.”
Lydia mutters something under her breath and Stiles looks over at her.
“Don’t mind me, I just figured with working for SHIELD and the Avengers that your self-esteem would be at an all-time high but I can see that Peter and I should have gone in halvesies on therapy after all.”
“Why are you even thinking about going in on presents with Peter? Is there something going on I should know about?”
“Not the point,” Lydia states. “Your archer called you from on assignment, don’t try and deny it, Scott told me; you got texts this morning from every single one of them to wish you a Merry Christmas. That doesn’t make you a toy, it makes you a friend.”
Presents are still being unwrapped in the living room and he gets tackle hugged from behind by Allison breaking his eye contact with Lydia, when he looks back over she’s studying her fingernails in a manner that he knows from past experience means that she’s done discussing this.
For now anyway.
“Best Christmas present ever,” she squeals, then whispers. “I won’t tell Scott if you won’t.”
Lydia laughs.
“Clint said he put a list of what each of the arrows does and how to set them up, but he couldn’t give you a bow or quiver because SHIELD holds the patents for them so we’re on our own for making them work,” Stiles says.
“If SHIELD can figure it out I think we can figure it out too,” Lydia says, she’s already looking at the list that Allison had in her hand, Allison is cooing over the box.
He grins to himself and goes back to setting the coffee maker up. Allison’s present was partially his way of saying thank you for the help she’s giving him for getting Clint’s Christmas present ready and a thank you from Clint because apparently she’d come to talk to him when he’d been missing.
And if he chooses to not look too closely as to why of all of the presents he’s had to choose this year that Clint’s was the most important that’s his own business.
Crawford calls on the morning of the 31st, to be honest Stiles had been expecting him to call sooner to at least wish him a Merry Christmas or even belated, but there’d been nothing. It had sent the back of his neck twinging but the most supernatural thing in Crawford’s life, from what Stiles can tell, is him.
So he should be having a nice, safe, free of all the stuff they’ve been reading about, Christmas.
“Hey, how’s your Christmas going?” Stiles asks.
Crawford is silent on the other end for long seconds, long enough that Stiles goes still and as such gains the attention of everyone else in the room.
“Crawford?”
“On your way back to the city can you pick me up?” Crawford asks finally, his voice is soft, like he doesn’t want to be heard and there’s something… thick in it. He doesn’t sound right and the second he gets off the phone he’s calling Tony to have him find out where Crawford is.
“I thought you had a round trip ticket?” Stiles asks. “Is something wrong? I can call Tony and have someone come get you right now.”
“No!” Crawford says, his voice breaks and Stiles bites his lips and turns his back on the pack, crossing one arm over his chest.
“Crawford tell me what’s going on, right now, or you find whichever one of the Avengers answers their phone first on your doorstep.”
Crawford clears his throat, “It was…it was just a bad trip home, I… I should have stayed in the city, worked through it, I could have started going through the filing cabinets that are going to explode one of these days, no matter what you say.”
“They’ve got locks on them, they’re fine.”
“I’m okay, I’m staying at a hotel in Chicago, and I don’t, I left my bag at my parents and my tickets in it and I can’t go back, I can’t,” Crawford’s voice breaks again and Stiles has never heard him talk about his family, but Crawford had always struck him as kind of private so he’d left it alone.
“It’s okay, you’ve got your license and your SHIELD ID’s right?” Crawford makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative. “I’ll call you when the jet picks me up and you’ll just meet me at the strip, okay?”
“Okay,” Crawford says. “I am okay, you know.”
“I don’t believe you, dude. But you can try and convince me some more when I see you in a couple of days.”
Stiles gets passed around like a party favor come midnight, kisses from everyone and everyone kissing everyone else. It’s like a big old orgy of kissing though he could have done without Peter trying to slip him some tongue.
He does manage to go to bed by himself though, he’s drunk enough that he’s not worrying about Crawford, but he’s not sober enough to not be thinking about people that he shouldn’t be thinking about while jerking off.
He has half a brain cell to spare to be thankful that of all the powers and abilities the Avengers have, telepathy doesn’t rank among any of them; though doing this in a houseful of wolves is going to get him mocked in the morning.
So if he whispers a name when he comes it’s between him, his hand and his dick.
And any of the werewolves that still happen to be awake.