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 19/?

“Hey dad,” he starts out. He can hear his father breathe in, then back out.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong? I can be there in…”

“Dad, dad it’s okay,” he says, “I’m okay.”

“Well not that it’s not great to hear from you, but it’s not Sunday and…” there’s still a slight measure of panic in his voice. He hates that his fathers’ default reaction to his calling on a day not Sunday is that something is wrong and that he’s been either been physically or emotionally wounded in some way.

“I wanted to talk to you about our family history,” he says softly, he leans against the wall, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps one arm around them. The other keeps the phone pressed against his ear.

His dad is silent on the other end for long minutes. Stiles stares at the wall opposite him, there are pictures tacked up there. There’s one, one of the only ones that he has of just his mom and dad.

Before they had him, before his mom got sick and his father started trying to follow her by drinking too much and eating the wrong things.

The drinking has mostly stopped and his dad grudgingly eats the right things if they’re placed directly in front of him and he’s given no other alternatives.

“What do you want to know?” his dad asks finally, there’s a layer of trepidation in his voice. His dad doesn’t want to be having this conversation. Which Stiles can’t blame him, he kind of doesn’t want to be having this conversation either.

But he had stood as a pillar in a cleansing and he could still, even days later, feel the power coursing over and around him. For those few minutes, with all that power at his fingertips, he could understand why someone had been scared enough to use that dagger to kill 27 witches.

“I remembered something this weekend,” Stiles says. “I don’t even know how I forgot but I remember being in our backyard, mom was standing on the porch and we were digging a garden.”

“Your mom liked to grow things, we did that every year,” his dad says, it sounds weak, like his dad is making a token effort but not really putting much energy or conviction behind it.

“Except,” Stiles says slowly. “Except, it was your garden, you were the one that would go out and tend to the soil and the plants growing and…”

“Do you remember your Nana Stilinski?” his father interrupts, his voice is soft, shaking a bit.

“Some, she didn’t speak any English, she always smelled like butterscotch,” Stiles remembers vaguely, being bounced on her knee and having secrets whispered to him in Russian. Maybe if he could remember what she’d whispered he could repeat it to Natasha and have her translate.

He’d been six when she’d died.

“The Argents, they hunt werewolves pretty much exclusively,” his father says.

“Yeah,” Stiles says slowly. Because while he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, he’s also pretty sure that he’s not going to like it.

“But they’re not the only types of Hunters out there, your Nana she came to the states because of a family of witch Hunters that decided to make a nuisance of themselves.”

Stiles sits there for a minute.

“You know, I should have just followed my gut instinct and ignored Derek and told you about everything back when it started happening.”

His father laughs.


Clint is waiting in his room, lounging across his bed looking four different kinds of inviting. Stiles stops in the door and sighs.

“I’ve got a meeting with Director Fury,” he says, Crawford had taken the phone call right as they were packing things in for the day.

“I know, I’m here to take you to it,” Clint says, his voice sounds bland and bored, but there’s something in his eyes…

Stiles gets the sudden feeling that whatever this meeting is about he’s most definitely not going to like it.


Crawford is already sitting at the table when Stiles arrives with Clint; if he had to hazard a guess he’d say that Clint was in bodyguard mode, which of course makes him all the more nervous about this meeting.

Crawford sits in the seat to Crawford’s left, Clint standing behind the chair on the other side of him.

“Agent Stilinski,” Director Fury comes through the door, coat billowing out behind him.. Stiles pops to his feet, Crawford right beside him.

“Sir,” he says.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Director Fury waves his hand at them and they sit while Agent Coulson comes through the door, Steve and Natasha following him.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks, the feeling of foreboding he’d been feeling has just been tripled by the fact that there are Avengers in the room. Next to him Crawford has his hands folded together in his lap and looks directly at the monitors at the front of the room.

Agent Coulson taps his tablet several times in quick succession and the profile pictures of the eight witches that he’d performed the cleansing on the dagger with flash up on the screen. The photos look to be surveillance photos from the cleansing.

He doesn’t ask how the hell they got them when SHIELD shouldn’t have even been there because there’s a knot in his stomach. A ball of unease that’s slowing becoming a boulder of ‘oh fuck, why is this my life!?!’

“What’s happened?” he asks slowly.

“Lauren Belmont and Norman Tragor were each found dead in their apartment’s yesterday morning,” Agent Coulson says.

Crawford makes a noise beside him and it takes a second for the words to process. That Agent Coulson is telling him that two of the eight witches that had stood across from him less than a week earlier are now dead.

“We’re searching for the other six but systems are having difficulty finding them.”

It’s because they live off the grid, Stiles should say this, should tell them that, instead he stares at the screen.

Lauren and Norman are both dead.

“Can you think of any reason why someone would have killed them?” Steve asks, his voice is gentle, like he can tell that Stiles is going into shock or getting ready to devolve into a panic attack and is trying to handle him with kid gloves so Clint doesn’t try to shoot him in the ass with an exploding arrow the next time they’re in the field.

He has to clear his throat a couple of times; and even then he has to force himself to speak around the lump.

“They’re white witches,” he says, he presses a hand to his chest; it feels like his heart is trying to frantically beat its way out to freedom. Every instinct he has is telling him to run, hide. “They were all white witches, for the cleansing I chose,” he coughs. “For the cleansing all the witches had to be white.”

“And what does that mean, exactly, that they were white witches?” Director Fury asks.

“It means they’ve never used their abilities against another living being,” Stiles says. “They’re pure witches; they should never be a target because…” his voice trips up and he has to clear his throat again, “because they don’t hurt people.”

“Well someone obviously feels differently,” Director Fury says. “Any ideas who would target them?”

“There’s a few Hunter clans that have been mentioned in the journals we’re going through…” Crawford starts.

“Wait a minute, there’s Hunters that hunt witches.”

Stiles laughs harshly, it sounds bitter even to his own ears and Clint lays a hand on his leg hidden from view by the table.

“There’s Hunters for everything.”


He doesn’t have much; it’s the one good thing about living on the Helicarrier. He doesn’t have much in the way of belongings because he doesn’t have room for it so if he has to run, at least he won’t be leaving much behind to track him with.

He answers the directors’ questions, keeping the answers as simple as possible. He’d love to tell them everything but he knows how prophecies work, he knows how any visions, no matter how irrelevant they might be, work.

They can’t be changed; tiny, miniscule things can be modified. But the big things, the things that are strong enough to be seen by psychics and seers…

They are fixed points in time, they never change.

At some point, in the fairly near future, Stiles and his father will be on their knees bound and bleeding while Derek in full blown Alpha form tries to protect them from an unknown enemy.

Clint can tell something is up, he’s attached pretty much permanently to Stiles’ side, like a really attractive growth that snarls and snaps at anyone that isn’t Crawford, an Avenger or Coulson that tries and talks to him.

It takes an amazing amount of willpower to not pat him on the head and tell him to stand down. He thinks that Clint would make an amazingly terrifying werewolf.


There are no other deaths, Lauren and Norman were the only bodies found and Stiles had asked through discreet channels that SHIELD most likely doesn’t have access to for proof of life of the remainder.

Not counting a visit to the emergency room for Micheline that may or may not have been due to a domestic incident there have been no attempts made on the others.

He relaxes a bit, maybe Lauren and Norman were just anomalies, and the others relax as well.

With the exception of Clint who doesn’t let him stray more than two feet in any direction unless he’s in closed door meetings with the director or Coulson. He doesn’t throw a fit because Clint knows Russian and Kurdish and his dad didn’t raise no fools. Stiles knows better than to shoot a gift bodyguard in the back and instead has another desk moved into his office and sets him to work translating.

So when Thor contacts SHIELD with a request for assistance by the Avengers no one thinks twice about accepting.

Except maybe Clint and after he thoroughly threatens the guards that will be taking over stalking him if there are any more deaths he even seems fine with it.

Stiles thinks he’s probably been bored stiff stuck on the Helicarrier waiting for an attack that hasn’t been forthcoming.

The Avengers leave on a Tuesday, Clint escorts him to his office than pushes him up against the door and kisses him breathless.

“They’re going to come looking for you,” Stiles mutters.

“And also I’m sitting right here and I didn’t bring popcorn so the show would be wasted,” Crawford says from behind his desk, Stiles peers over Clint’s shoulder and can see Crawford sitting there, face bright red, eyes darting everywhere in the room where they aren’t.

“And I’m not looking to give Crawford free porn anyway.”


His room is lonely without Clint there taking up all the free space, lounging on his bed and leafing through his pictures.

He tries to keep himself busy by working late into the night; that is squashed fairly quickly when Agent Coulson appears at his office and arches an eyebrow at him.

He goes to open his mouth and say something like ‘I heard you had four assistants quit because you’re not human and possibly don’t ever sleep’ but thinks better of it.

“I know it’s really short notice but did you happen to see my vacation request?” he asks instead, it’s probably a stupid question; you normally don’t see Coulson without a tablet or a communicator or his phone.

“Can I ask why you’re asking for vacation time?” Coulson asks, he doesn’t add the unspoken but clearly heard ‘so when Barton asks me I can say what it’s for’.

“My dad’s birthday, also the pack wants to start planning for Spring Solstice and it’s easier if we’re all in the same room so the humans don’t get shuffled to the kiddie table.”

Coulson hmms at him and Stiles smiles winningly.

Nothing to see here, nothing going on. Just family business and pack business.

And the fact he wants to pick Allison and Chris’ brains about Witch Hunters and whether or not they’ve got Stiles’ (or his dads) scent which he definitely doesn’t feel comfortable doing that over the phone.

He understandably doesn’t mention that to Coulson.


He’s get his approval for vacation back with an attached note.

‘FYI: If Clint is back he’s going to want to come as well as possibly Steve since it’s your fathers’ birthday. Also, it goes without saying that if you need anything call.’

He’s book his plane reservations and forwards it to Danny, Derek and his dad immediately after receiving the confirmation. Mostly to save Danny from having to waste energy hacking the system.

He packs light, he’s only planning on being gone for a little over a week, leaving on Sunday and coming back the following Sunday. He’ll probably be hung over and regret booking himself in coach but he’d seen the first class ticket prices and choked and he’s certainly not going to ask Coulson if SHIELD would fly him out.

“I should be done with the packet I’m working on when you get back,” Crawford says, he’s rifling through his bag for something, making a pleased face when he finds the thin blue binder he’d apparently been looking for.

“There’s two more from that same year set, I’m hoping that we can find corroborating evidence that the families are linked somehow,” Stiles say. He taps his pen against his desk. ‘Tony’ has a bar and seems to be doing the limbo.

“There was mention of that demon,” Crawford makes a face, biting on his lower lip as he flips through the binder. “A’kresh? In the two that I’ve been through.”

“Yeah there was mention of him in mine too, he must have been a big deal,” three different Hunter families had fought this demon; they can’t find any proof that they all fought him at the same time or anything though. Just that they all at one time fought the demon A’kresh in 1954 around the months of June to October.

Allison is supposed to be looking through her families archives to see if the demon shows up in hers. Apparently it’s been fairly quiet so she’s got lots of free time to do research, train with her dad and pretend that Scott doesn’t exist.



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September 2016


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