Chapter 9
“You’re taking this well.” Tony commented, his gaze set on his girlfriend.
“Tony,” Pepper reached over, placing her hand upon his, “I’ve known you for…how long now? I wouldn’t necessarily say “well,” more so that I’m not really surprised by anything you tell me anymore.”
“Any chance you want to place a wager on that?” He asked cheekily.
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes searching. “What could possibly be more shocking than two teenage boys from a different universe? ”
“One of them is a werewolf,” He mumbled, ducking his head sheepishly.
Pepper blinked, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Tony turned his hand over, interlacing their fingers and placing his other hand on top, “Pep, my love, my livelihood, one of those teenage boys may or may not be a werewolf.”
She took a step back, though their hands remained intertwined, and stared at him for a moment. The look on her face made it evident that she was expecting him to crack and smile and admit he was just joking. Honestly, Tony desperately wished that this actually all was a joke and that there was no way he and his team would be figuring out how to connect with another world.
“You’re being serious.” She stated, her eyes widening even more.
“Unfortunately,” He clicked his tongue, “They really are just little bundles of joy, somehow in these past couple of days, they managed to get themselves involved with dark matter and get blown up. They’re prodigies, really.”
“Everytime I leave you alone, something ridiculous happens.” She pulled her hand back and covered her face in exasperation.
“It really hurts that you seem to think everything's my fault.” He threw his head back with a pout, “Can you not just accept that some things just happen and I have nothing to do with them?”
Pepper opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by FRIDAY, “ Boss, Mr. McCall is in extreme distress, I would advise immediate attention.”
Tony stood up straighter, meeting Pepper’s eyes with mutual worry. “Where is he, Fri?”
“Mr. Stilinski’s room.”
They were both out the door within seconds, rushing down the hallway with an immense sense of urgency. Tony had purposely placed the boys in rooms that were on his floor so it did not take long for them to reach Stiles’. Tony threw open the door, bursting in to find Scott clutching his chest on the floor and Stiles’ leaning over him, his back to the couple and a hand on Scott’s forehead.
Scott’s face was partially visible over Stiles’ shoulder, his eyes wide and watery with fear and his lips pale with a blue tinge to them. He could make out weak gasping that was so airy and choked, it sounded more like wheezing. The lack of movement from Stiles gave Tony a sour taste in his mouth, though he didn’t have time to stew on it. Without much more thought, Tony dropped to his knees on one side of Scott, effectively pushing Stiles out of the way.
“Hey!” The teenage boy practically erupted, a furious, almost threatening look on his face, but the engineer’s attention was too focused on the flushed teen to notice. “What are y-” Stiles made a move to grab Tony’s shoulder only for the older man to push his arm away.
“Stiles!” Tony yelled, though it was more in panic over Scott’s state than any actual anger, “Go! Out of the room!” He really didn’t have time to deal with the kid at the moment. “FRIDAY, what’s wrong? Do I need to get him to the medbay?” Behind him, Stiles’ let out an angry shout, storming out of the room though not without shoulder checking the door frame with a sharp thud.
“ I believe he is having an asthma attack, I would advise a rescue inhaler and to get him into an upright position.”
Tony whipped his head around towards his girlfriend, “Peter’s spare rescue inhaler is in the top drawer of my desk.” Without waiting to see her move, he quickly turned his attention back to Scott, hooking his arms underneath the kid’s upper body and heaving him up enough for his back to lean against the bed.
“Okay kiddo,” Scott’s eyes met his, though there was a panicked, dazed look in them. His pupils were dilated, and a sheen of sweat coated his forehead. “Pep’s grabbing an inhaler, everything’s going to be okay, alright?”
The only response he got was a choked gasp.
With a wince, Tony continued, “You have to try to breathe through your nose, Scott.” He mimicked breathing deeply through his nose and out through pursed lips, “I know it’s hard, but you gotta work with me here.”
Pepper made it back to the room, having been gone for less than two minutes though given the urgency of the situation, it felt more like forever. She pressed the blue inhaler into Tony’s hands and he was quick to shake the inhaler a few times, pressing it to the teen’s mouth and cupping the back of his head.
“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” Pepper soothed as Tony completed the same process once more. By the third one, Scott was holding the inhaler himself. He had gained a little more color back and he was no longer gasping for air, however the dazed look in his eye stayed.
“Thanks,” He said, his voice raspy and hoarse.
The couple let out identical sighs of relief and Tony relaxed slightly, “Nothing to thank us for, kid.” He ruffled the boy’s hair before sitting back on the floor instead of continuing to kneel.
Scott let out a harsh cough, shaking his head as Pepper offered the inhaler to him again, “Stiles?”
Tony pursed his lips, thinking back to the way the kid had stormed out of the room after trying to fight with him. While he may have only known him a few days, he couldn’t help but think that his behavior was a little out of character.
“What about him?”
“Where did he go?” Scott asked.
“Fri?” He questioned, glancing up at the ceiling.
“Mr. Stilinski is currently in the rec center.” FRIDAY responded.
“Oh.” Scott said softly, letting his head drop back against the bed. “Okay.”
“He was here,” Pepper told him, “Tony had to send him out.” Because he was acting ridiculous.
The kid was silent for a moment, his brows furrowed. “He’s probably pissed.” He looked at the wall, an odd look in his eyes. He didn’t necessarily seem concerned for the other teen, if anything he seemed a little scared.
“Tell you what,” Pepper stood up, brushing her hands against her legs. “I’ll go have someone check on him and bring you back some water, that sound okay?” The gentle way she treated the boy that she had only just met had Tony’s heart fluttering. Despite the fact that he was still coming down from his earlier panic, he couldn’t help but fall in love a little more.
Scott nodded minutely, the action almost unnoticeable, “Thanks.”
Once Pepper left the room, Tony turned his attention back to him, “What were you doing in here, anyway? Could have sworn I didn’t make you two share a room.”
His tanned skin became flush again, though this time it was with a slight blush, “You didn’t,” He said sheepishly, “I wanted to check on him after, y’know, earlier.” Despite his reddening face, his tone was still quiet and reserved, much different in comparison to the way he had been earlier in the day.
“And the asthma attack? Would’ve been nice to know about that specific ailment, Larry Talbot.”
Scott raised an eyebrow in confusion, “I used to have asthma but not really since the bite.”
“So what happened here?” Tony asked.
The kid shrugged, “I think I panicked because Stiles wouldn’t wake up at first, it probably just spiraled from there but it doesn’t really matter. I’m good now.” The way he blatantly disregarded the very intense medical emergency that had Tony feel like he was going to have his own heart attack was actually very unsettling, much like the way Stiles’ behavior had made him feel.
“You sure?”
When Scott looked up at him, he swore he could see a tinge of red in the kid’s irises.
“Yeah, I feel fine.”
-
Clint decided it was an instance of “wrong place, wrong time” that led him to be the first person Pepper found when she arrived on the communal floor, his midnight snack screwing him over.
It wasn’t that he had an issue with either of the teenage boys but he also didn’t appreciate being volun-told to go check on one of them. He did change his tune a little after Pepper informed him of the literal medical emergency that had led to this situation.
That’s how he found himself making his way to the rec center, in search of an angsty teenager. He had dealt with his fair share of temper tantrums, though most of these either had to do with the Hulk or, ironically enough, Tony Stark himself. Those usually were not the result of getting sent out of a room when their best friend was in the middle of an asthma attack.
He brushed his finger over his hearing aid, stopping in front of the large window that sat on one side of the entry doors for the turf field. At the far end, he spotted Stiles standing with his back towards him. He was holding a lacrosse stick in his hand, an almost empty basket of lacrosse balls sitting to the side of him.
Clint opted to stay at the window, watching as the kid hurled ball after ball at the wall in front of him. It was obvious he was angry, both in the rigid stature of his body and the impact the balls made on the wall. He was pretty sure that if he opened the door, he’d hear some sort of angry sound come from the teenage boy.
He was more than happy to let Stiles work his emotions out himself before talking to him. He didn’t have too much experience with teenagers so the less angst he had to deal with, the better.
It wasn’t long before Stiles ran out of lacrosse balls. He was slouched forward a little bit, his shoulders slumped and his head down, most likely staring at the lacrosse stick clutched in his hands. His demeanor showed something akin to defeat but before Clint could make his way into the turf, Stiles’ body language did a complete 180 and suddenly he was bashing the lacrosse stick against the wall.
The archer’s eyes widened in alarm and he yanked open the rec center door, running in. He expected to hear yelling or grunting as Stiles slammed the lacrosse stick down but he found himself unsettled at the silence of the room. The only thing to be heard was the splintering of plastic and thuds against the concrete wall, Stiles was completely silent.
What the fuck.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” Clint shouted, stopping in front of the teen though his presence was not acknowledged. It was like he didn’t even see him, instead the dark look in Stiles’ eyes was focused solely on destroying the lacrosse stick. “Hey, that’s enough!”
He had a few inches on the kid and a lot more muscle mass so when he raised his arms again, Clint grasped the lower part of the base before he could throw it down. He wasn’t expecting the way Stiles began to struggle, attempting to yank the lacrosse stick back. It was almost feral the way he was thrashing his arms, fighting to continue destroying the equipment. It was like the added resistance only fueled the boy’s anger.
As Stiles’ struggle intensified, Clint resigned to changing tactics. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be able to disarm him without a fight but he needed to get a hand on the situation before the kid hurt himself. He let go of the lacrosse stick and quickly stepped behind him, hooking his elbows underneath Stiles’s upper arms. His hold wasn’t enough to hurt him but it was effectively restraining him.
“Stiles! Calm down!” His voice was piercing the room against the teenager’s silent fit. “Stiles, that’s enough! ” Clint’s commanding tone seemed to break through whatever trance he was in, the kid immediately going limp.
He adjusted his grip, wrapping one arm around Stiles’ chest to hold him up in what looked like a hug. It seemed that his meltdown had left him more-so unmoving but Clint wasn’t ready to fully release his hold on the off chance he went back to destroying things.
“Clint?” It was a few minutes before Stiles spoke, his voice a whisper as he craned his neck to look at the man holding him.
Though he was reluctant, the older man let go, allowing him to step out of his grasp. Instead of turning to face him, Stiles turned to lean against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground. He held his head in his hands, his knees pulled up to his chest while Clint stood in front of him, arms now crossed. Harsh panting had replaced the eerie silence and the archer remained quiet, opting to give the teen a moment to sort himself out.
When Stiles finally looked back up again, the only word that Clint could think to describe his own feelings was disturbed . The dark look in his eyes was gone, the chilling intensity that was once there now replaced with a bewilderment that was almost childlike. Stiles blinked rapidly, his gaze darting around the room as if seeing it for the first time. He looked lost, haunted almost. If anything, this was more disconcerting than his anger.
“Clint?” Stiles repeated, voice small.
His eyebrows furrowed as he squatted down, what the hell had just happened? “You with me, kid?”
The kid rubbed his eyes and brought a hand down his face, “I guess.” He said softly. “When did you get here?”
Clint couldn’t help the confusion that overcame him. He had thought that Stiles’ rage had rendered him ignorant to his surroundings but it really seemed like he had no idea that Clint was there before he had calmed down.
He took a moment to respond, looking over the boy in front of him. Now that he wasn’t thrashing or fighting against him, Clint could see how pale his skin was and the way the dark circles around his eyes stood out. “I’ve been here the whole time, bud.” Despite having felt furious over the teen’s behavior earlier, now he just felt concern.
“Really?” Stiles whispered, though it seemed more like he was asking himself. He had yet to meet Clint’s eyes again, instead opting to glance around the turf field. It was like he didn’t know where he was or how he got there.
“You feeling okay?” He asked. He had witnessed Stiles’ panic when he and Scott first arrived at the tower and later during the conversation with Thor and Loki. He had even seen him angry when Wanda had gone awol in the dining area.
Whatever he had just seen was different than all of that. It was almost sinister.
“Yeah,” Stiles sniffled but there were no tears. Beyond his confusion, he just looked tired.
“When was the last time you slept?”
The kid shrugged, “Hasn’t been long.”
Clint shook his head, “When was the last time you really slept?”
Stiles frowned, though he didn’t respond.
“Alright,” He stood up, ignoring the way his knees protested, “C’mon buddy, let’s get you to bed.” He extended his hand out. Stiles stared at it for a moment before accepting the offer, allowing the archer to pull him up.
Clint didn’t comment on the way he stumbled a little bit, putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder to lead him out of the rec center. He didn’t miss the way the boy looked down at his hands, his expression unreadable as he lightly bounced each of his fingers up, one at a time.
It was a silent trip back to Tony’s floor, neither of them speaking as they stood in the elevator. Stiles kept his gaze down and his arms wrapped around him. It seemed almost like he was moving on autopilot, allowing the older man to guide him to his room. It was a stark contrast to the intense anger he had exhibited just moments ago and Clint couldn’t help but feel the sensation of whiplash.
“Get some sleep,” He said, his voice much gentler than he expected. “Holler if you need anything.”
Once Stiles closed his door, he turned his head up towards the ceiling, “Friday, keep an eye on him for me?”
“ Of course, Legolas. ”
Clint couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed at the nickname as he made his way to the communal floor. The second he stepped out of the elevator, he found Tony seated at the table. At the sound of the elevator, he turned to face him as he entered. The lack of any taunt or sarcastic comment from the billionaire only had him speaking quicker.
“We need to talk.”