laniew1: (SHIELD - Avengers)
[personal profile] laniew1
Summary: 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..

Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 18/?

The sketch comes from… he’s not going to lie, even to himself. He doesn’t have the first fucking clue where the sketch came from.

He’d been doodling; more to keep from having to talk to Crawford and suddenly there was a center point (the knife) with two support pillars (Andrea and Carmine) and four energy beacons (Tara, Norman, Micheline, Vicky) and two spell casters (Beverly and Lauren).

“What’s this?” Crawford asks from behind him, he’s making the annoyed voice so Stiles blinks at the paper and then at him and tries to discreetly figure out how long Crawford has been standing behind him trying to get his attention.


“Is this…” Crawford stares at it, looks at him then stares harder at the paper.

“Yeah,” Stiles rubs a hand across his face and makes a resolution to call his father and have a really serious talk about bloodlines and which side of his family tree had totally landed him with witchy blood.

With his luck, it’s both.


“So you don’t want SHIELD there,” Coulson says. He’s got a flat note to his voice and his face looks slightly disapproving.

“It’s not that I don’t want SHIELD there,” he says, he keeps his voice bright and light, Coulson raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs. “It’s just, you know… the witches. They all know that Darren outed werewolves to SHIELD, the supernatural grapevine has got nothing on high school, I swear to god. And I’ve got eight witches that are willing to do this big, huge favor for me but only if there are no visible SHIELD agents standing there monitoring them and waiting to take them into custody for, you know, being witches.”

“Is that a real fear?”

“Real enough that none of them will sign the papers unless I can guarantee that when they finish the ritual they can all walk away again.”

“We’ve got no reason to hold them,” Coulson says.

“But we’re also cleansing a dagger that killed 27 of their brethren in the past,” Stiles shrugs. Fear is a very real thing, witches aren’t in the danger that werewolves and vampires and some of the more blatantly obvious not human creatures are. But Salem and now this fucking dagger…

“What about the Avengers? They’re not technically SHIELD agents,” Coulson says.

“But they’re affiliated with SHIELD,” Stiles reminds him. “It’s just going to be the witches, the dagger and me and someone that I have to personally vet. And they’re only allowing me because of the fact that I’m already tied to the supernatural community through Derek, and honestly I need Crawford there more then I need bodyguards or Avengers.”

Clint’s going to kill him, it probably makes him a horrible person that he’s actually hoping for some super-villain to try and make an attempt at world domination.

It would solve a lot of his problems.


“I can stay back and let someone else go,” Crawford says.

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. He’s got the pad with his drawings in it, and he’s got two basic cleansing spells. The witches will probably want to write their own when they get a look at the dagger but he’s nothing if not optimistic that they’ll just want to get it done and over with.

Crawford just sighs at him like Stiles is doing all this on purpose to make his life hell. He idly wonders which of the Avengers had cornered him.

“We’re not even going to be gone that long,” Stiles says. He’s packed a change of clothes and his toiletry kit just in case though.


The neutral ground is about seven miles smack in the middle of two packlands. It’s got a line of natural mountain ash trees though which should make the witches feel slightly more secure.

Crawford and he are dropped off by helicopter, it’s not being flown by Clint because Stiles has a feeling that Clint would just refuse to leave. Instead it’s some nameless, SHIELD pilot who looks scared shitless which means that Clint had possibly lectured him with one hand on either his gun or his bow about how the pilots life expectancy is based entirely on Stiles returning with no injuries.

Stiles has one hand on the case that the dagger is housed in for the moment. He has a phone in the backpack slung over his shoulder and a comm in his pocket that should technically be in his ear but it screams ‘I’m an agent for the government’ so he plucked it out pretty much as soon as they stepped foot on the ground.

Crawford has his hands wrapped around the straps of his bag.

“So we just wait?” he asks, the helicopter is gone and they’re standing in the middle of an empty clearing.

“We just wait,” Stiles says. They won’t be waiting long, he glances at his watch and he’d had them dropped off 30 minutes prior to when his makeshift coven is due to show up.


Andrea is about 40, blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. She’s definitely already the leader of the little coven, power radiating off her bright enough that Stiles kind of wants to shield his eyes.

She strides into the clearing with purpose the others almost keeping pace with her.

“Mr. Stilinski,” she says, her smile is bright. There seems to be nothing fake in it. Stiles finds that almost reassuring. He’d investigated all of them, but he knows that it’s only fair that they’d probably investigated him in return.

“Hi,” he says, he doesn’t wave. Just keeps one hand on the case with the dagger, the other free at his side.

She stands in front of them, Crawford shuffling slightly back so he’s almost standing behind him.

“He’s a little nervous,” Stiles says. Andrea smiles and it looks gentle, like she’s used to dealing with people that have no ties to the supernatural community.

“So let’s get a look at this dagger, and then you can show us the outline for the cleansing and we can decide which cleansing will actually get the job done,” Andrea suggests, she looks relaxed and comfortable. She’s probably the only witch that has actually done work with a coven before.


The dagger makes them all uncomfortable, Stiles included. It’s not screaming anymore, thank god. Stiles might just call back the helicopter if it was, screw cleansing it.

Crawford being the only one without a supernatural ability is handling it. He has gloves on though, because no one wants to take the chance that there’s something lacing the knife that they haven’t been able to pinpoint and god knows they don’t want to deal with a possession on top of everything else.

They huddle around the sketch, Crawford stays by the knife just in case. He’s not armed, but there’s eight witches plus Stiles and if there’s not at least one SHIELD agent that may or may not be an Avenger in a tree somewhere nearby with a bow or gun in hand he’ll turn in the common sense badges that he and Scott made when they were twelve.

Before Scott discovered girls and hormones and lost what remained of his brain cells as a result.

Andrea looks at the sketch, purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest.

“We’ll need an anchor,” Tara says softly.


“She’s right,” Andrea nods once. “For a spell this size we’ll need an anchor.”

“I can probably find a ninth,” Stiles says, he could probably call Janice, have SHIELD pick her up and transport her. “I’d need a little bit of time to get someone here though.”

“Or Carmine can be the anchor and you can take her spot as a support pillar.”

“Um,” Stiles looks at her and she raises an eyebrow in response. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Rumor has it that you cast a protection spell over the Hale packlands,” Norman murmurs. The others are all nodding.

“I carved some runes,” Stiles says. “I’ve done circles with mountain ash, I’ve never…”

“Witchcraft is only 1/3 about power, the other 2/3 is about belief,” Andrea says. She sounds like a teacher in lecture mode, or Deacon trying to explain why Stiles can do some of the things that he can do. “If you believe you can do something and you have just enough power to back up that belief, then,” she shrugs.

Stiles sighs, he casts a glance over at the tree line, he’s sure that Clint and possibly at least one of the others is there, he makes a face.

“Let’s get this done,” he says finally. Andrea grins at him and Vicky and Beverly start pacing off the steps, marking faint X’s in the ground with knives.

The others linger around the papers with the two different cleansing spells on them and he wanders over to where Crawford is sitting cross-legged on the ground next to the dagger.

“We ready?” Crawford asks.

“Apparently we need an anchor,” he says.

“So are you going to play the spot of anchor or did they switch things up a bit?”

“You’re not even going to entertain the notion that I need to get my phone on my pack and have to call in a witch that hasn’t signed non-disclosures?”

“No, because you heard the witches screaming when you found the dagger, if they didn’t figure out a way to get you into the circle I’d be worried about their intelligence.”

Stiles makes a face and makes a mental note about calling his dad one more time. Maybe this time he can actually ask the questions that he always means to when he calls.


Carmine takes her spot first, then Andrea and he step into the X’s that indicate the pillars, he can see Andrea directly across from him but he can also feel her in his bones, just like he can feel Carmine anchoring their feet and power to the ground.

The power surges slightly as Tara, Norman, Micheline and Vicky step into their spots. He breathes carefully, taking great pains to keep himself calm. He can feel the second that Carmine latches them into the circle, the power surge stills, calms. Though he can feel energy, power like nothing he’s ever felt before dancing over his skin.

He’s prepared when Beverly and Lauren step into the spots facing each other, the dagger on the ground an equal distance from them.

He knows the words, he wrote the spells out even though he didn’t put any belief behind them when he was transposing them to paper.

He breathes, in and out, in and out as the air and power dances around them. It tickles his skin, it makes him want to giggle.

It reminds him of a time when he was a child, maybe six or seven; his mother standing on the back porch of their house, watching them as his dad and he had dug in their backyard to plant a garden for his mom. He’d felt the same tickling against his skin as he tried to help, his dad’s hands guiding his as they dug into fresh, damp soil.



laniew1: (Default)

September 2016


Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags