Introductions
Stiles generally expected his decisions to come bite him in the ass. Generally he could judge how, and sometimes when, that would happen, so he had at least a little bit of warning.
Coming into his room to find Peter Hale pinned up against a wall by the metal hand of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes? Not something he’d been prepared for. He stared, even as Peter kicked out and hit James in the gut. James grunted, air whooshing out of him, but if anything his hand tightened around Peter’s throat. Stiles had to wonder how much extra strength there had been in that kick.
More importantly, though, he had to stop them from killing each other.
“Ok, James, put Peter down, we’re all friends here, ish,” Stiles said, making sure James could see both his hands when the man turned to look at him. James seemed to do a quick evaluation of Stiles’ wellbeing before turning his attention back to Peter, who was starting to look a bit pale.
“Incorrect,” James announced, and Stiles bit back a sigh, clearly he was following the Soldier instincts, “A potential threat snuck into your room. He is enhanced. His strength and speed are well above normal.”
“Yes,” Stiles agreed gently, “I’m actually aware he’s… enhanced, and I’ll find out why he’s in my room as soon as you start letting him breathe again.”
James stared at him for a long moment before turning his attention back to Peter. Peter bared his teeth and James scowled, but released his throat. He then made sure he was between Stiles and Peter.
Stiles watched, fascinated, as Peter caught himself, easily straightening as the hand shaped bruise around his neck began to fade. Damn, gotta love James’ hand, and werewolf healing.
“Care to introduce us, Stiles?” Peter asked, his voice just a little rough.
“Sure,” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes, “Peter, this is James, he was invited. James, this is Peter, who I’m sure has a good reason for sneaking into my room. Right, Peter?”
“You’ve been acting odd lately,” Peter replied, though his eyes remained on James, who stared right back. Like two predators sizing each other up. God, Stiles would not be able to explain it to his dad if they destroyed his bedroom. “Imagine my surprise when I come to investigate and find a wanted man hiding away in your bedroom.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re a wanted man, Peter,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes, “And don’t even start on me hanging out with dangerous people.”
“And what does your father think about this?”
“He thinks that I’m helping out a lost and confused war hero who’s trying to find his feet again,” Stiles snapped, “He thinks that I’m pulling my act together after all the shit I was getting into before that we still haven’t talked about. Remember? You played a pretty essential part in that.”
“So you’re endangering you’re life to make your father happy?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, “That seems rather backward.”
“James is not a danger to me,” Stiles scoffed, clapping James on the shoulder to make his point, “He’s basically adopted me as his kid brother.”
“Please be serious, Stiles,” Peter scowled, taking a step forward. James shifted to put himself more in front of Stiles, easily taking a fighting stance. A growl rumbled through Peter, clearly still on edge from the scuffle they’d probably had before Stiles arrived.
“James, please, he’s a pain in the ass, but he’d not going to hurt me,” Stiles huffed, tugging on James’ arm. The flesh one, because the metal one was in somewhat questionable condition, so they didn’t do much with it if they didn’t have to.
“Oh, I certainly won’t harm him, can you say the same, Winter Soldier?” Peter asked with a sneer.
“Peter!” Stiles exclaimed, furious.
“I will not allow any harm to Stiles,” James replied, voice hard.
“And I will not allow you to be rude to my friends,” Stiles snapped, turning to grab the baseball bat he’d been messing around with before storming towards Peter. He shoved Bucky out of the way to get to him, but Peter was already backing up towards the window, clearly knowing there was something up with Stiles’ bat.
“Come now Stiles, I’m only concerned for your safety,” Peter said carefully, ducking out of the way of a swing, “We lead dangerous lives.”
“And whose fault is that?” Stiles demanded, “God damn it Peter, I can make my own decisions. I don’t need Scott, or Derek, or you telling me how incapable I am. Get the fuck out of my house. Maybe I’ll let you back in when you decide to have some manners.”
“Stiles,” Peter tried again, but he’d already backed out the window to avoid Stiles’ swings, which he had not been holding back, so the teen simply tossed the bat aside and slammed the window closed, pointedly locking it. Peter gave him a deeply unimpressed look from the other side of the glass.
“Get gone,” Stiles said through the glass, “Dad won’t hesitate to shoot some creep hanging around outside his underage son’s window.”
Peter scowled at him, but he did get off the roof, so Stiles counted it as a win.
“Who is he?” James asked, eyebrows drawn together.
“Peter Hale,” Stiles sighed, sitting down on his bed and running a hand through his hair, “He probably had something important to tell me. He’s been getting better. Hell, he’s usually the only one who includes me. Probably screwed that up now.”
“If he thinks you’re worth it, I doubt someone like him would give up that easy,” James assured, sitting beside him, and pulling to teen into his side, “And if he doesn’t think you’re worth it, I’ll kill him.”
A surprised laugh burst from Stiles, and James gave him a smile, enjoying his ability to make the skinny boy laugh.
“I’m glad I brought you home,” Stiles told him with a smile.
“Me too, kid,” James replied, smiling as Stiles’ eyes slipped shut. For a moment his mind was filled with images of a different boy, still skinny and fragile, like Stiles, the same determination to prove people wrong in both their eyes. He shook himself out of the images, memories. He couldn’t lose himself to them.
He had to look after Stiles.
Like he hadn’t been able to look after Steve.
Stiles’ life was ridiculous. Unbelievably ridiculous.
He’d accepted that after Scott had been bit. Then everything else had happened and that had just confirmed it for him. Gerard, Peter coming back from the dead, Scott being an absolute moron, Gerard disappearing, Peter being a creeper, Erica and Boyd disappearing, the strange and ambiguous possible threat from a possible Alpha pack.
Yeah, his life was ridiculous.
Still, he was still Stiles, the Sherriff’s kid, and when he saw the man sitting in an alley in dirty clothes, no doubt getting soaked by the rain, he went over to investigate. Stiles knew everyone in town, everyone, and it wasn’t like Beacon Hills had a high homelessness rate. Despite the murder crime rate being abnormally high at the moment.
Either way, Stiles held his umbrella over the man to ward off the rain. It meant Stiles got a bit wet, but he was on his way home anyway, and there would be a worm shower and dry clothes waiting for him there. The man looked up at him, and Stiles registered familiarity, even though he’d definitely never seen the dirty man with his matter hair and worn clothes in town before.
“Steve?” the man said, his voice rough and confused. Warning sirens started going off in Stiles’ brain, because he knew where he’d seen this man. In a museum that’s where. Stiles knew Bucky Barnes, because he was a nerd and Captain America, Steve Rogers, was a war hero and a superhero. Of course Stiles knew what the man’s best friend looked like. He knew all the Howling Commandos, and the Avengers now.
He’d found the scraps from the latest incident at well. Though Tony Stark had grabbed most of the information back before anyone could really get their hands on it. Only bits and pieces were left behind, and no one could really tell which parts were real anymore.
Well, except that Barnes was sitting in front of him, so clearly that was real.
“Stiles actually,” Stiles told him, offering a hand because Barnes was a goddamn war hero too, “But I’ve got a warm house and dry clothes, if you promise not to kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Barnes said in a small voice, like he was expecting a particular reaction to the comment. Stiles suspected it wasn’t the smile he got.
“That works out great then,” Stiles told him, wiggling his fingers, “C’mon dude, this weather sucks.”
Barnes stared for a moment, just stared, then, slowly, he reached out and took his hand. Stiles smiled as he helped pull the man up and led him to Stiles’ home. He was totally going to fanboy about this later.
“Stiles, you’re going to be late if you don’t get up now,” James said, watching the sleeping boy with crossed arms. Stiles’ reply was muffled by his pillow as he attempted to roll over and go back to sleep. “I’ll give your dad bacon.”
That earnt him a bleary eyed glare. He simply raised an eyebrow, and Stiles pushed himself up from his bed, grumbling under his breath the whole way. James just smirked, turning and heading back downstairs to the kitchen.
Stiles had been teaching him how to cook. There were some memories there, from before, but he didn’t think he’d been a huge cook before. Even now, he preferred baking. Stiles suggested it might be because the instruction for baking were a lot firmer. There was a lot of leeway in cooking recipes.
Stiles had also admitted to being a bit of a stress baker. John, the Sheriff, seemed to feel that James was going to follow Stiles’ lead on that front. James wasn’t sure he was wrong, but Stiles had told him his brownies were getting really good. He hadn’t felt so proud of something in… he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt really proud of something.
“Finally got him up?” John asked, glancing up from his newspaper.
“Threatened to give you bacon,” James replied, “He’ll be down soon.”
“I don’t doubt it,” John replied with an amused snort, then gave James a serious look, “Put anymore thought into trying to contact him?”
James cringed.
“I just, I don’t know what I’d say or… I don’t know if I can even face him without…”
“Hey, relax, son,” John said gently, getting up to wrap James in a hug, “No one’s rushing you, you can stay here as long as you need.”
James easily accepted the hug, melting into it. It was something he’d learnt early on. Stilinski men might not be great at communication, but they gave the best hugs. Stiles and John both freely admitted to it, and their immediate solution whenever they noticed James looking a bit down was to embrace him.
This knowledge was confirmed, again, when another body joined the hug, wrapping his arms around James from behind. It was a show of how far James had come from those first few days that he didn’t attempt to stab said new body.
“Hugs and food,” Stiles mumbled, “This is a good wake up. I should have picked up an older brother years ago.”
“Please don’t bring any more strangers home,” John chuckled, pulling away, “Usually it doesn’t end this well.”
“But I’m just that fabulous,” Stiles said with a grin, “Now, food, and coffee.”
“One cup,” John said warningly, collecting his stuff, “And make sure I don’t get any texts from the school.”
“I know, I know,” Stiles said, grabbing a piece of toast, “Have a good day.”
“Sure,” John sighed, “Stay out of trouble.”
“And eat a proper breakfast,” James said, pulling the piece of toast from Stiles’ mouth and guiding him into a seat. Stiles rolled his eyes at him, but was smiling fondly.
“I have successfully learnt how to domesticate homeless strangers,” Stiles said with a smirk as he accepted the plate of eggs, “Tomorrow, the world.”
“That didn’t work out too well for the last guy,” James replied.
“Don’t get smart with me, I taught you sarcasm.”
“I’m pretty sure they had sarcasm in the forties, I was just a little rusty.”
“You were embarrassing.”
“Shut up. Eat your food and go to school. Brat.”
“Whatever dude, where are my brownies?”
“Oh, yay, new students, that never ends in disaster,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes, watching the pair of twins across the cafeteria, “This is a disaster waiting to happen, and if you touch those brownies Lahey I swear to God I will kill you.”
“Like you could,” Isaac scoffed, but still retracted his hand. Stiles just shook his head and took his brownies back before he went back to scowling at the twins. There was definitely something not right here. The last time they got a new student she was a hunter’s daughter, and her family nearly killed them all. At separate times, but it happened.
“I swear if they try to kill us, and you guys didn’t listen to me, I’m going to shove wolfsbane down your throats,” Stiles said, as the table continued to ignore him. His brilliance was wasted on these people he thought with a huff, taking a bite of the brownie. It was delicious. Damn James was getting good.
“You better be here to apologise,” Stiles said pointedly, turning to raise an eyebrow at Peter.
“I’m simply ensuring your continued survival, given your obviously poor self-preservation instincts,” Peter replied blandly.
“If I survived this long I think my self-preservation is fine,” Stiles scoffed, “I know when someone’s dangerous Peter, and I know the difference between someone being dangerous and being a danger to me, otherwise you can bet your ass I wouldn’t spend so much time with you.”
“We hardly spend much time together,” Peter said, leaning casually against the Jeep, “You’ve had your hands full with you latest project.”
“Is that… Peter are you jealous?” Stiles demanded, “Jesus, Peter, the world does not revolve around you. Besides, it’s not like there’s actually a cohesive pack in town that gives me a socially acceptable excuse to hang out with a creepy middle aged man.”
“I am not middle aged,” Peter said, affronted.
“To humans you definitely are,” Stiles replied, rolling his eyes, “Just apologise and get in the car, jackass. Then you can tell me whatever’s important enough you’ve sought me out twice.”
“Fine, I’m sorry for trying to defend you, it won’t happen again.”
“You’re apologising to James as well. Genuinely. He probably could kill you if he actually wanted to.”
“Get out,” James commanded. It probably would have been more intimidating without him holding a tray of muffins. He could probably kill the man with the tray of muffins if he really tried, though, so, that was something to consider.
“James, please be nice,” Stiles sighed, “Or at least not actively hostile.”
Despite this command as soon as Stiles was within reach James grabbed him and pulled the teen behind him. He knew dangerous people when he saw them, he knew how to recognise a killer. He saw all the signs when he looked in the mirror. Peter Hale, despite whatever trust Stiles had in him, had killed before, and he didn’t feel bad about it.
“For god’s sake,” Stiles huffed with a role of his eyes while the pair glared at each other, “I’m going to get my laptop. Don’t kill each other. Give Peter a muffin or something.”
Neither man moved, so at least Stiles was confident he could get up the stairs without them starting a fight about his safety. Well, he wouldn’t hear the fight anyway. Either way, he needed to check on the Avengers Watch. The Watch was how he’d known about the mess with HYDRA, the crazy portal mess before that, and the fake terrorist thing that had been nipped in the butt when Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark industries, had forced Tony Stark to look into a questionable character. He’d been tracking it even before James showed up.
Tony Stark had used probably not so legal means to do so, but he’d caught an international terrorist conspiracy, and prevented the kidnapping of the president. The internet had had a field day about it, but all the magazines had been more focused on his breakup with Potts, despite both of them being adamant it was mutual.
The Avengers Watch itself was a somewhat hidden group, who shared information and theories. They were all waiting for the day SHIELD or Stark reached out and shut them down. Stiles suspected most of the people on the site were people with powers, mutants and the like, who could suffer from the government turning against the Avengers.
For Stiles it had just been curiosity. Now it was about protecting James.
For the moment they seemed split between New York and DC, dealing with the whole HYDRA thing. They were checking out rumours of the Winter Soldier with their new guy, Falcon. Other than that, they just seemed to be working clean up. There was speculation that otherworldly creatures had come through the portals during Thor’s thing, and hadn’t been collected yet.
Stiles grabbed his laptop and headed back downstairs. He didn’t want to leave those two alone too long. Especially not in the kitchen, where James spent a large amount of his time, and where all the knives were kept.
Although, he’d probably try killing Peter with a muffin first. They’d been quick to drill into him that you were not supposed to stab people with the knives you prepared food with. He seemed to understand their point.
“Ok, well, I don’t hear any growling, so, I assume you’re not killing each other,” Stiles said as he came back down the stairs. Neither of the men answered, and Stiles found they were both still glaring at each other. James had moved his muffins to a cooling rack, though, and Peter was cautiously eating one, so, it wasn’t all bad.
“Does he need to be here?” James demanded, managing to sound deadly even as he offered Stiles a muffin. Stiles accepted it happily.
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” Peter sneered. Stiles rolled his eyes.
“Look, can you two have whatever dick-showing contest this is later? Like, never?” he suggested, opening up his laptop, “You’re both grown-ups, try to act like it. Now, Peter, what disaster this way comes, and does it involve the new kids?”
“We’re discussing this here?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, “You know what they say about loose lips.”
“I already know about you being a werewolf Hale,” James said before Stiles could, “Stiles told me about it when I asked why none of his friends helped him when he was attacked. Tortured, actually.”
“Bro,” Stiles said, a whine in his voice.
“You were tortured? When?” Peter demanded, eyebrows drawing together for a moment before realisation dawned, and his face became expressionless, “Gerard.”
“Yeah, as usual we can blame the Argents,” Stiles huffed, “And bro, not cool.”
“They should have protected you,” James replied with a shrug.
“Uh, they were busy with murder lizards and stuff, and Peter had like, only just come back from the dead,” Stiles said, a hint of desperation in his voice, “You can’t blame them for not noticing.”
“I’m actually quite comfortable blaming McCall,” Peter commented, “Since he claims you’re part of his pack. It should have been his responsibility to protect you, or reap revenge if he were unable. I suppose he was too busy scheming with Argent.”
“Look Peter, you weren’t exactly being Mr Helpful!” Stiles snapped, “Leave Scott alone. Everything worked out.”
“I suppose to your mind,” Peter replied, “I personally would have preferred Argent’s permanent removal.”
The sound of glass shattering broke them from their argument. James looked stunned for a brief moment before fury took over his face. Peter could definitely see how the man could be one of the world’s most deadly assassins.
“He’s alive?” the ex-soldier demanded, eyes dark.
“Shit James, that was your flesh hand,” Stiles said, ignoring the question, “Don’t move, I’ll grab a broom and the first add kit.”
Stiles exited the room to do that and James and Peter stare at each other. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other when Stiles had gone to fetch his laptop. James had moved the muffins, put one in front of Peter like Stiles had commanded, but otherwise they’d just glared at each other. For a moment Peter almost thought this would be the same.
“Do you know where?” James asked after a moment, expression hard and voice void of emotion.
“The Argents aren’t particularly eager to talk to me,” Peter replied, “Apparently murder is frowned upon.”
“So is kidnapping teenagers and torturing them,” James said blandly, “You know where the Argents live?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“You want me to tell you private information about a family so you can go kill one of their relatives?” Peter asked with a smirk, leaning across the kitchen island, “The Sheriff might frown on such a thing, and oh, what would Stiles think?”
“I can make these things look like an accident,” James replied, the threat clear in his voice, “Besides, if he’s alive he’s still a threat. If he’s dead he’s not. I’d kill you if Stiles hadn’t made it clear he wanted you alive. He’s made no claims for Gerard Argent. Tell me.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“You get the death you want and the ability to honestly say it wasn’t you. I know men like you. You get what you want, the rest doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, there are still some things that matter. Don’t generalise Barnes.”
“Tell me.”
Peter did, because Barnes was right. He wanted Gerard dead, and he wanted to know it would be done properly, but he would be the first suspect. If he vanished to track the Argent down, he would be immediately written off as the culprit. If an entirely unknown player did it? Peter got off scot free, and he could hardly doubt the effectiveness of the Winter Soldier.
“Good,” James said with a sharp nod, turning toward the door Stiles was coming towards, “And Hale. If you ever hurt Stiles, his request won’t be enough to keep you alive.”
“Understood, Soldier,” Peter said with a smirk as Stiles re-entered the room.
“Oh good, you’re talking and no one’s dead,” the teen said brightly, immediately getting to sweeping the glace out of the way, “Isn’t that nice? Now, Peter, tell me what’s happening while I do this. I’m gonna throw up if I don’t have something to distract me.”
“I can manage my own injury,” James said, attempting to pull his hand away from Stiles, but the teen just grabbed it and pulled him towards the sink, tweezers already in hand.
“You had infected injuries when I picked you up,” Stiles scoffed, “You may have enhanced healing but you’re human, you can’t just stare at an injury and wait for it to heal on its own. Peter, what’s the imminent danger.”
“The Alpha pack,” Peter said, amusement in his tone.
“It’s definitely them?” Stiles asked, eyebrows drawn together as he carefully pulled shards of glace from James’ hand.
“Oh, without question.” Peter said, smirking. “Of course the most likely reason for them being here is recruitment, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. Nonetheless I’ve warned Derek, for whatever good it will do. I suggest you try to convince McCall of an alliance, at the very least. The Alpha’s will likely start taking out betas if they can’t make Derek do it.”
“And Derek obviously won’t,” Stiles commented with a thoughtful frown, he paused to look over at Peter, “You think they’ve got Erica and Boyd?”
“It’s a possibility, leverage is always good,” Peter said with a shrug, “they could just be waiting for a good time to send a message, or they did actually just skip town.”
“Not really our kind of luck,” Stiles said with a snort, going back to work.
“No, sadly not,” Peter agreed, “And I suspect something else is in town, but they haven’t made a move yet, just a strange scent.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Stiles sighed, “It’ll be at the top of my to-do list after convincing Scott and the others that the new kids are, in fact, evil.”
“And tending to your pet.”
“Don’t start with the animal jokes, dude,” Stiles said warningly, waving the tweezers at him, “You have no idea the dog jokes I’ve been holding back. James, I’m done, wash it off.”
“You can’t honestly expect him to remain a secret very long?” Peter said, bemused.
“Dude, he was here for weeks before you found out, and that was only because you came into my room announced,” Stiles replied with a snort, “Which, ok, Derek and Scott both might do, but otherwise, no one’s noticed anything. I think I’m fine, and even if they do find out, Dad already knows, so it’s not like they can argue his presence.”
“And if one of his friends come looking for him?”
“That’s what the Avengers Watch is for,” Stiles said, gesturing at his laptop, “Any hint of SHIELD, Stark Industries, or anything that looks related to the Avengers and someone’s going to mention it. The internet is a fantastic thing Peter.”
“Any news?” James asked, because he couldn’t quite stop himself.
“Not really,” Stiles answered with a shrug, “Mostly they’re focused on New York, so their main concerns seem to be Hydra and making sure New York doesn’t implode. Which is a scarily valid concern. Falcon and the Captain were apparently spotted in St Petersburg. In Florida, not Russia. So it doesn’t look like they’ve got any real leads on you.”
“Besides, it would be big news if you attracted any of them to a small town like Beacon Hills,” Peter added, earning a glare from Stiles.
“I think you’re done now, aren’t you?” he asked pointedly, “Why don’t I show you to the door?”
Peter gave him an unimpressed look, but nonetheless got up and allowed himself to be led to the door. He brushed a hand over the back of Stiles’ neck as he did. The teen gave him his own unimpressed look, but didn’t try to stop him. He could feel James’ eyes trying to burn a hole through his skull.
He didn’t doubt that James would have killed him if it weren’t for Stiles. He honestly wasn’t certain he could face off with him. He was enhanced after all, and extremely well trained.
Best just not give him an excuse to void Stiles’ wish.