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FIC: TeenWolf/Avengers - Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD - 23/? - PG-13
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..
FEEDBACK: Please?
Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 23/?
They convene at the vet’s office; Deaton has that smug look on his face that Derek really just despises.
Of course the smug look on Deaton’s face is nothing compared to the ones gracing Morell’s or Peter’s faces. It’s very frustrating and makes him wonder if they think he should be a mind reader when it comes to Stiles.
If they should be looking smug at anyone it should be at Scott who has been Stiles’ best friend for more years then all of them have known the two of them.
Allison has her arms crossed over her chest, pacing a little; when Peter’s not looking at him with that damned smirk his eyes follow her and if he wasn’t so worried that Stiles is being murdered while they stand here and talk about what they need to do… Well Derek would wonder at that.
Would wonder why Peter was even anywhere near the Argent’s when last Derek had checked he still kind of blamed the whole family for Kate being a psychotic bitch.
Of course Peter had mentioned once or twice or a hundred times that he and Chris had been friends of a sort at one point. He’d just thought that the friendship hadn’t managed to survive Kate’s fire.
They’ve lost Stiles, they’ve lost the Sheriff, they’ve lost Chris in the crossfire.
“We should be doing something,” he mutters.
“Like what?” Boyd asks, he leans against the wall next to Derek.
“I don’t know, just…” he waves a hand in the air and feels like Stiles momentarily, it burns. “Standing around here, waiting? We should be doing something.”
“It wouldn’t benefit any of us to go running in blind,” Deaton says, he still has a knowing smirk on his face, Derek buries the need to punch him in his smirking face under the need to save Stiles. First things first.
“Plus it would help to know what we’re running into,” comes a voice from the door. Derek blinks because it’s Agent Coulson there in a flannel shirt and jeans, looking as un-Agent like as he possibly can.
Agent Hill from the carrier skirts around him, also dressed as commonly as possibly. It’s almost disconcerting.
“The Sheriff mentioned something about the last coven being murdered?” Agent Coulson says, he looks at all of them but Derek is almost positive this is continuing a conversation that he’d already been having since Crawford answers.
“Almost 200 years ago,” Crawford nods. “If he was here…”
“Well he’s not, so we’ll just have to muddle through,” Agent Coulson says.
“And almost 200 years isn’t exactly correct,” Deaton says, he leans against a corner of his desk.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s 200 years ago tomorrow,” Morell says. She’s pale all of a sudden, biting her lips, her eyes wide. “Fuck, I didn’t even put it together.”
“Anniversaries are important, some of them more celebrated than others. 200 years ago tomorrow the last white coven, the Whites of Kanash were all murdered, dead by execution. If they’re going to do something with Stiles and the Sheriff it’ll be tomorrow,” Deaton says.
“So we’ve got less than 24 hours to pull some sort of rescue together,” Derek nods, they’ve done more with less time. They can do this.
“Apparently we do have some guidelines that need to be adhered to,” Agent Coulson says.
Derek looks at him, narrows his eyes.
“When Stiles made his verification of the Asgardian artifact in Helsinki he did so by having a vision,” Agent Coulson starts.
“Which he didn’t tell anyone about,” Crawford mutters under his breath.
“And from what we’ve managed to gather from his conversations with your father,” he nods at Allison.
“You activated his comm.,” Danny says, there’s an underlying tone of wonder in his voice.
“One way communication,” Agent Hill says. “We can hear him he can’t hear us. But it’s given us enough to figure out what we need to do in order to try and keep everyone alive.”
******************************************************************************
They’ve brought SHIELD agents in, snuck them in through roads no longer used and having Crawford and Isaac drive the Sheriff’s car (he’ll yell later, Scott’s assures them of this) to pick up Agent Coulson and Agent Hill at the landing strip.
There is still no word from the Avengers, all attempts to communicate with them have been met with silence; an eerie, dead silence that is not normal.
Crawford would worry, mostly he wishes he had the energy to worry, but he doesn’t.
If they haven’t saved Stiles by the time that Hawkeye returns they’re all dead by exploding arrow anyway.
******************************************************************************
Erica finds the pyre by accident, they’ve been running the perimeters of areas that Deaton and Morell had marked as being prime locations for one and she just sort of stumbles upon it.
Of course then she backs away just as quickly because the energy of the place makes her skin crawl and she runs a hand over her head because it feels like her hair is standing on end.
She fumbles for her cell phone and hides within the tree line, rolling her shoulders and periodically looking behind her because it feels like she’s being watched and nothing good can come from that.
“Yeah,” Derek says and his voice sounds gruff and normal and maybe eventually they’ll teach him to say ‘hello’ like a normal person when picking it up.
“I found the pyre,” she says in a whisper, she rubs a hand against the rough bark of the tree next to her, “there’s some sort of… the area feels weird, creepy, I think the Hunters might have had a witch do something to it.”
There’s muffled talking on the other end, she waits and notices movement as a Hunter comes out of the woods across from her. She hides herself more firmly behind the tree and she doesn’t think he saw her as he’s not looking around wondering where she’d gone. He seems to be adjusting his pants so he probably went for some private time in the woods.
“There’s a Hunter here,” she breathes, her eyes are locked on him and she could take him, there’s just one.
“Come back here,” Derek says.
“I can take him,” Erica murmurs, she rolls her shoulders and rocks on her heels.
“No,” Derek orders, voice going hard and stiff. “Come back here, now.”
Her shoulders hunch even though she knows she’s done nothing wrong, Derek’s nerves are strung tight, one wrong move, one more loss and they’ll probably have a Derek in crazy Alpha!Peter mode to contend with.
“I’m on my way.”
******************************************************************************
“There’s witches in town,” Deaton says. Peter looks up in surprise, he would have thought with everything that was happening that a witch, white or otherwise wouldn’t step foot into Beacon Hills until it was resolved.
“Why would they?” he starts to ask and Deaton shakes his head.
“I just got a courtesy notification that witches were in town. Seven of them to be exact.”
“That’s,” Peter purses his lips together. “That’s a really specific number, that’s two shy of…”
“An actual coven, yes, I’m aware,” Deaton has a look on his face, if Peter had to catalog it as anything he would say that it was a considering look, with maybe a side of hopeful.
“I wonder,” he muses, mostly to himself.
“Five of them are members of the coven that Stiles put together to cleanse the dagger,” Crawford says, he’s holding a table in one hand, scrolling across screens, being mostly invisible. Peter keeps forgetting that he’s sitting there as silent as he’s being. With the way that Deaton startles Peter imagines he’d forgotten that Crawford was in the room as well.
“And the other two?” Peter asks.
“I imagine they’re replacing the two witches that were killed first, Norman and Lauren,” Crawford says absently, his eyes are tracking something across the screen, brow furrowing as he does so.
“And what about the last?” Peter asks softly. “Who are they planning to replace her, a coven is a coven with eight, but a stable coven is nine and they appear to be one shy.”
Crawford looks up at him, blinks and shakes his head a little.
“Give me a name, quickly, don’t think, you must have thought of this, like Stiles thought of this. Who is the last member of this coven that isn’t.”
Crawford licks his lips, “his father.”
******************************************************************************
His wrists ache, his head is pounding and he’s gotten one bathroom break. Hands cuffed in front of him and douchebag Hunter with a gun behind him and he’d managed to go but only because otherwise he thought either his bladder would explode or he’d just wet himself.
He’d not asked again, he’ll just hold it until he dies or can figure out how to get himself out of this.
He sighs heavily, across the room Chris is making a noise as he apparently tries to shift into a more comfortable position and his probably broken ribs make themselves known.
“You know what I could go for?” he asks, Chris makes a noise that he takes as ‘what?’ though he doesn’t speak.
“A double cheeseburger and curly fries,” he leans his head back against the wall, closes his eyes and smiles a little. His mouth waters and his stomach makes a low rumbling ‘hell yeah’ noise.
“Let’s not talk about food,” Chris says. “I’m so hungry I’d probably eat a double cheeseburger and curly fries right alongside you.”
The door bangs open at the top of the stores and Harrison stomps down them, loudly like he’s trying to make sure they have plenty of warning that he’s coming and so they can hide the porn and booze and board games that they’ve obviously been indulging in while chained to walls in dark, damp cellar.
“So,” Harrison says. He stands in the middle of the floor, spinning slowly so he can look at each of them. He’s got goons with him, one that Stiles can barely make out at the top of the stairs and two more that at the bottom of the stairs with guns in their hands.
“You’re not going to monologue are you?” Stiles bangs his head a little, mostly to distract himself from the prickles of unease making their way up and down his spine. “Because that’s just trite and…”
Harrison rounds on him, hand wrapping around his jaw tightly, Stiles jerks his head but Harrison holds fast.
“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Harrison snarls, “It’ll be my pleasure to burn it out of you.”
“Harrison,” Chris starts.
“Chris, we no longer have need of your presence,” Harrison says, he says it softly, matter-of-factly. He doesn’t let go of Stiles and he smirks at him as he jerks his heads at goons.
The gun shot is loud, it echoes through the cellar and Harrison’s body might be partially blocking his view but he can still clearly see Chris slump against the wall and he might still have a grip on his jaw but he still manages to scream.
******************************************************************************
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 23/?
They convene at the vet’s office; Deaton has that smug look on his face that Derek really just despises.
Of course the smug look on Deaton’s face is nothing compared to the ones gracing Morell’s or Peter’s faces. It’s very frustrating and makes him wonder if they think he should be a mind reader when it comes to Stiles.
If they should be looking smug at anyone it should be at Scott who has been Stiles’ best friend for more years then all of them have known the two of them.
Allison has her arms crossed over her chest, pacing a little; when Peter’s not looking at him with that damned smirk his eyes follow her and if he wasn’t so worried that Stiles is being murdered while they stand here and talk about what they need to do… Well Derek would wonder at that.
Would wonder why Peter was even anywhere near the Argent’s when last Derek had checked he still kind of blamed the whole family for Kate being a psychotic bitch.
Of course Peter had mentioned once or twice or a hundred times that he and Chris had been friends of a sort at one point. He’d just thought that the friendship hadn’t managed to survive Kate’s fire.
They’ve lost Stiles, they’ve lost the Sheriff, they’ve lost Chris in the crossfire.
“We should be doing something,” he mutters.
“Like what?” Boyd asks, he leans against the wall next to Derek.
“I don’t know, just…” he waves a hand in the air and feels like Stiles momentarily, it burns. “Standing around here, waiting? We should be doing something.”
“It wouldn’t benefit any of us to go running in blind,” Deaton says, he still has a knowing smirk on his face, Derek buries the need to punch him in his smirking face under the need to save Stiles. First things first.
“Plus it would help to know what we’re running into,” comes a voice from the door. Derek blinks because it’s Agent Coulson there in a flannel shirt and jeans, looking as un-Agent like as he possibly can.
Agent Hill from the carrier skirts around him, also dressed as commonly as possibly. It’s almost disconcerting.
“The Sheriff mentioned something about the last coven being murdered?” Agent Coulson says, he looks at all of them but Derek is almost positive this is continuing a conversation that he’d already been having since Crawford answers.
“Almost 200 years ago,” Crawford nods. “If he was here…”
“Well he’s not, so we’ll just have to muddle through,” Agent Coulson says.
“And almost 200 years isn’t exactly correct,” Deaton says, he leans against a corner of his desk.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s 200 years ago tomorrow,” Morell says. She’s pale all of a sudden, biting her lips, her eyes wide. “Fuck, I didn’t even put it together.”
“Anniversaries are important, some of them more celebrated than others. 200 years ago tomorrow the last white coven, the Whites of Kanash were all murdered, dead by execution. If they’re going to do something with Stiles and the Sheriff it’ll be tomorrow,” Deaton says.
“So we’ve got less than 24 hours to pull some sort of rescue together,” Derek nods, they’ve done more with less time. They can do this.
“Apparently we do have some guidelines that need to be adhered to,” Agent Coulson says.
Derek looks at him, narrows his eyes.
“When Stiles made his verification of the Asgardian artifact in Helsinki he did so by having a vision,” Agent Coulson starts.
“Which he didn’t tell anyone about,” Crawford mutters under his breath.
“And from what we’ve managed to gather from his conversations with your father,” he nods at Allison.
“You activated his comm.,” Danny says, there’s an underlying tone of wonder in his voice.
“One way communication,” Agent Hill says. “We can hear him he can’t hear us. But it’s given us enough to figure out what we need to do in order to try and keep everyone alive.”
They’ve brought SHIELD agents in, snuck them in through roads no longer used and having Crawford and Isaac drive the Sheriff’s car (he’ll yell later, Scott’s assures them of this) to pick up Agent Coulson and Agent Hill at the landing strip.
There is still no word from the Avengers, all attempts to communicate with them have been met with silence; an eerie, dead silence that is not normal.
Crawford would worry, mostly he wishes he had the energy to worry, but he doesn’t.
If they haven’t saved Stiles by the time that Hawkeye returns they’re all dead by exploding arrow anyway.
Erica finds the pyre by accident, they’ve been running the perimeters of areas that Deaton and Morell had marked as being prime locations for one and she just sort of stumbles upon it.
Of course then she backs away just as quickly because the energy of the place makes her skin crawl and she runs a hand over her head because it feels like her hair is standing on end.
She fumbles for her cell phone and hides within the tree line, rolling her shoulders and periodically looking behind her because it feels like she’s being watched and nothing good can come from that.
“Yeah,” Derek says and his voice sounds gruff and normal and maybe eventually they’ll teach him to say ‘hello’ like a normal person when picking it up.
“I found the pyre,” she says in a whisper, she rubs a hand against the rough bark of the tree next to her, “there’s some sort of… the area feels weird, creepy, I think the Hunters might have had a witch do something to it.”
There’s muffled talking on the other end, she waits and notices movement as a Hunter comes out of the woods across from her. She hides herself more firmly behind the tree and she doesn’t think he saw her as he’s not looking around wondering where she’d gone. He seems to be adjusting his pants so he probably went for some private time in the woods.
“There’s a Hunter here,” she breathes, her eyes are locked on him and she could take him, there’s just one.
“Come back here,” Derek says.
“I can take him,” Erica murmurs, she rolls her shoulders and rocks on her heels.
“No,” Derek orders, voice going hard and stiff. “Come back here, now.”
Her shoulders hunch even though she knows she’s done nothing wrong, Derek’s nerves are strung tight, one wrong move, one more loss and they’ll probably have a Derek in crazy Alpha!Peter mode to contend with.
“I’m on my way.”
“There’s witches in town,” Deaton says. Peter looks up in surprise, he would have thought with everything that was happening that a witch, white or otherwise wouldn’t step foot into Beacon Hills until it was resolved.
“Why would they?” he starts to ask and Deaton shakes his head.
“I just got a courtesy notification that witches were in town. Seven of them to be exact.”
“That’s,” Peter purses his lips together. “That’s a really specific number, that’s two shy of…”
“An actual coven, yes, I’m aware,” Deaton has a look on his face, if Peter had to catalog it as anything he would say that it was a considering look, with maybe a side of hopeful.
“I wonder,” he muses, mostly to himself.
“Five of them are members of the coven that Stiles put together to cleanse the dagger,” Crawford says, he’s holding a table in one hand, scrolling across screens, being mostly invisible. Peter keeps forgetting that he’s sitting there as silent as he’s being. With the way that Deaton startles Peter imagines he’d forgotten that Crawford was in the room as well.
“And the other two?” Peter asks.
“I imagine they’re replacing the two witches that were killed first, Norman and Lauren,” Crawford says absently, his eyes are tracking something across the screen, brow furrowing as he does so.
“And what about the last?” Peter asks softly. “Who are they planning to replace her, a coven is a coven with eight, but a stable coven is nine and they appear to be one shy.”
Crawford looks up at him, blinks and shakes his head a little.
“Give me a name, quickly, don’t think, you must have thought of this, like Stiles thought of this. Who is the last member of this coven that isn’t.”
Crawford licks his lips, “his father.”
His wrists ache, his head is pounding and he’s gotten one bathroom break. Hands cuffed in front of him and douchebag Hunter with a gun behind him and he’d managed to go but only because otherwise he thought either his bladder would explode or he’d just wet himself.
He’d not asked again, he’ll just hold it until he dies or can figure out how to get himself out of this.
He sighs heavily, across the room Chris is making a noise as he apparently tries to shift into a more comfortable position and his probably broken ribs make themselves known.
“You know what I could go for?” he asks, Chris makes a noise that he takes as ‘what?’ though he doesn’t speak.
“A double cheeseburger and curly fries,” he leans his head back against the wall, closes his eyes and smiles a little. His mouth waters and his stomach makes a low rumbling ‘hell yeah’ noise.
“Let’s not talk about food,” Chris says. “I’m so hungry I’d probably eat a double cheeseburger and curly fries right alongside you.”
The door bangs open at the top of the stores and Harrison stomps down them, loudly like he’s trying to make sure they have plenty of warning that he’s coming and so they can hide the porn and booze and board games that they’ve obviously been indulging in while chained to walls in dark, damp cellar.
“So,” Harrison says. He stands in the middle of the floor, spinning slowly so he can look at each of them. He’s got goons with him, one that Stiles can barely make out at the top of the stairs and two more that at the bottom of the stairs with guns in their hands.
“You’re not going to monologue are you?” Stiles bangs his head a little, mostly to distract himself from the prickles of unease making their way up and down his spine. “Because that’s just trite and…”
Harrison rounds on him, hand wrapping around his jaw tightly, Stiles jerks his head but Harrison holds fast.
“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Harrison snarls, “It’ll be my pleasure to burn it out of you.”
“Harrison,” Chris starts.
“Chris, we no longer have need of your presence,” Harrison says, he says it softly, matter-of-factly. He doesn’t let go of Stiles and he smirks at him as he jerks his heads at goons.
The gun shot is loud, it echoes through the cellar and Harrison’s body might be partially blocking his view but he can still clearly see Chris slump against the wall and he might still have a grip on his jaw but he still manages to scream.