Moonrise
I thought I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange. But dreaming is for moonrise, and moonlight ails these tired eyes.
‘This way’ apparently means ‘miles this way.’ Stiles grits his teeth against the now-noticeable pains along his entire body, pretty much. In addition to his leg, he’s got a stitch in his side, his ankle pounding with every step, and he’s pretty sure where Malia’s claws got him; he’s still bleeding. At least he isn’t dead.
When he sees it, Stiles doesn’t stop his mouth.
“Oh. Wow.”
“Billionaire.” Tony quips, smug smile sharpening his features.
The interior is white and beige and Stiles is 1200% sure he’s covered in blood.
Natasha settles herself into the cockpit and the rest sit comfortably in the white seats. Steve pulls a shield with more of the red, white, and blue coloring from his back and sets it carefully on the seat beside him and Tony. The other guy sits adjacent to them on a seat closer to Natasha.
“You can sit.” Tony deadpans.
Stiles looks down at himself and then at the seats.
“I’ll bleed on them.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.” Tony shrugs, putting his feet up. “Don’t worry about it. Relax. Take a load off.”
Stiles sits carefully, watching their eyes track his movements. He lets out a sigh at finally getting the weight off his leg. After 20 minutes or so, Stiles starts tapping his fingers in boredom, examining the plane around him. Tony and Steve are holding conversation, but Stiles is quickly disinterested. The other guy and Natasha seem to be holding conversation in the cockpit too, but he can’t hear anything from where he is. He figures now is as good a time as any to examine his injuries.
He unzips his hoodie, revealing a short-sleeved black tee. He peels off the hoodie carefully, before balling in up on his lap to avoid the white seats and carpeted floor as much as possible.
Stiles unsticks his sleeve from the drying blood and cranes his head, positioning his bicep to survey the damage. And yikes, Stiles thinks. One thin cut and three thick gashes on one side and another good-sized one a bit further down. He grimaces. Malia must have tried holding on to him as she landed.
Meeting the twin glances of Steve and Tony when he looks up only throws him off a bit.
“First aid kit?” He asks.
Steve stands then and retrieves it from a compartment above their head, and then shows him to the bathroom.
“Do you need any help?” He offers, handing the kit over.
“I don’t think so.” Stiles says. Steve’s smile drops a fraction so Stiles amends.
“I’ll let you know.” He smiles back and then shuts the door behind him.
The floor is blessedly plastic, or something like it. He deposits his hoodie and then strips off his shirt to rest it there too.
He finds bottled water in a cabinet and uses that to wash most of the blood off his arm. Following that, he disinfects his entire arm, then his hands, and gets to work stitching up the two widest gashes, fighting the rolls of nausea hitting him.
He has to stop after every stitch on the first cut, biting his tongue against the painful tugging sensation, but just once on the second. He’s beyond proud of himself, even if the stitches don’t look that good. He disinfects the area a second time, applies some anti-bacterial spray, and wraps it with a pad and some gauze.
When he’s done, he curses the lack of a good mirror, cleaning the blood off his face the best he can.
When he peels his jeans down to pee, he finds his leg to be what looks like one huge bruise, already turning a dark blue in most places.
“Fuck,” he exhales when he gently touches the flesh.
He finishes his business, puts his shirt back on, packs the first aid kit up, retrieves his hoodie, and leaves the bathroom.
He spends the rest of the flight imagining the many ways Malia and Lydia could be alive or dead by then. It’s probably not the best way to spend his time, he knows, but he’s worried, and scared. He has no idea what happened to them after he passed out and reappeared wherever he is now. He resolves to push the thoughts away for as long as possible.
They land in New York, immediately get into cars, and end up downtown. When they get there, Stiles almost doesn’t believe it’s their final destination, but they all enter an elevator and arrive at a private floor, where they all spread out comfortably.
Tony leaves him standing in the doorway and returns without the suit of armor.
“Cap says you probably need a couple of stitches.” He reaches a hand out to Stiles and gestures somewhere down the hallway, away from the rest of the group.
They’re all hovering around him like they’re waiting for him to snap or something.
Stiles runs his hand over the back of his neck.
“Yeah, uh, I did. I think I got it though.”
Tony stills.
“Fine. Let me take a look at it though? Then how about a shower? I’m sure we can find something for you to wear until I can get JARVIS to order you clothes.” He tells Stiles. Then, to Steve, “Maybe one of Clint’s shirts?”
“Yeah, Tony, I got it.” Steve disappears while Tony herds Stiles into the bathroom.
“I’ve got water-resistant stuff I can put over the new set.” Tony tells him as he unwinds the gauze and disposes of the pad.
Stiles is relieved to find out the wounds only wept a little since he wrapped it.
“Hey, not bad kid!” Tony examines the two closed cuts. “Done this before?”
“A few times, I guess, yeah.” Stiles confirms, closing his eyes while Tony finishes the prep and starts threading the needle through the last gash, the one he couldn’t get properly in the plane.
He’s more aware of the clenching of his teeth and the gritty breaths he exhales in pain while Tony works to close his skin than he was on the plane.
“There you have it.”
Tony finishes and goes over the gauze with opaque-looking stuff and then calls the job finished just as Steve knocks on the door to deposit a pile of clothes onto the counter.
“I’m gonna re-wrap that tomorrow, okay kid?” Tony tells more than asks.
“We’ll all be in the living room - that area at the end of the hall, to the right of the elevator - when you’re finished. Just, uh, come find us and we’ll show you around, sound good?” Steve asks, leaning awkwardly in the doorway.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks, you know, for the stitches and the clothes.” Stiles replies back, just as awkwardly.
“Of course! I’m the best host anywhere in New York. Just don’t ask anybody.” Tony jokes as he leaves, prompting Steve to lead the way.
When the door shuts behind them, Stiles lets out the breath he’d been holding.
It was just like him to dive headfirst into a situation he had no idea how to navigate. So he was here, a guest of a billionaire, in some alternate dimension, entirely alone. That kind of blows in a major way. At least he maybe, probably, had a chance to figure out what the hell had happened to him while he’s here.
The shower doesn’t do much for Stiles’ muscles, but he isn’t covered in sweat and stink anymore so it isn’t all bad. The clothes are nice: a purple short-sleeved crew neck, dark gray sweatpants, and a thick, black cardigan.
He makes his way barefoot from the bathroom and back the way he came, where he hears Tony’s voice ringing through the room.
“Ah! There you are! I already ordered pizza. We didn’t know if you’d ate yet, but we missed dinner to fly in and get your ass from the middle of California.”
“Nah, pizza sounds good. I haven’t eaten since lunch, so.” Stiles shrugs, looking around. “Can I just sit anywhere?”
“Yup, stay away from Bucky though. He bites. And strangles. And -”
“Stark.” Steve’s voice cuts in.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No being an asshole to anyone over age 90. I got you, Cap.”
Tony grins and Stiles is lost, so he just sits down at the dining table next to Steve.
On Steve’s other side is Bucky, while Natasha and Tony take the seats opposite them. The pizza arrives soon after.
“So you often fight crazy guys with magic powers?” Tony asks casually, biting into a slice. “We have a little bit of experience with that.”
Stiles raises his slice to his lips, but then sets it back down.
“Not really. I mean, we’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff, but no. This was the first time. It kind of blows, I mean, look what happened.” Stiles says.
Tony nods his agreement, taking another bite.
“Tell me about it.” Steve mutters. “Better than a whole alien race bent on conquering the world, though.”
Stiles chuckles in good humor. “I’d think just about anything would be better than that.”
“You have no idea.” Steve says wryly.
Stiles manages to finish a slice as the conversation dies down, but then Natasha is addressing him.
“You said ‘pretty crazy stuff.’”
Stiles swallows another mouthful of pizza before answering.
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean by that?” She clarifies, eyes focused forward.
Stiles runs through his memories as he answers.
“An angry druid sacrificing people to a magical tree stump.” He sees his dad, Melissa, and Chris, all bound to the roots of the Nemeton.
“Parascientists that were hundreds of years old, killing and resurrecting kids all over town. Ghost Riders erasing people and people’s memories, and dropping them into a supernatural weigh-station. That’s kind of the high-light reel, I guess.” He very carefully doesn't mention his time as a Nogitsune's host.
Natasha just nods at him and then returns to her slice of pizza.
Stiles is suddenly not very hungry.
“What I’d like to know more about is that forcefield you were talking about.” Tony says. “You said nothing could get through it? Is it what stopped the phone calls?”
“I don’t know. They went right to voicemail once the barrier was up, so maybe? I don’t know. There was some red powder on the ground that did it.”
As Tony mulled it over in his mind, Stiles stood up from the table suddenly feeling tight in his skin.
“I kind of actually want to go to sleep now, if that’s cool. Uh, where will I be staying?”
“Well, no offense to you, obviously, but you’re still an unknown, so I can’t give you your own floor like I did for the rest of them.” Tony reaches up to scratch the back of his neck and continues. “And leaving you alone in the tower… bad idea. Again, no offense, kid.”
“Hey, yeah, no,” Stiles shrugs, “I get it.”
“So Cap and Bucky offered a room on their floor, since you know,” Tony grins then. “Or, maybe you don’t know. But either way. Super soldiers! Between them and JARVIS, I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet anything you might try will fail, so. You know.”
“Contingencies.” Natasha supplies.
“Exactly!” Tony confirms. “Contingencies. Anyway, I’m sure Cap will show you where to go. If you ever get lost, you can just ask JARVIS. Any comments? Questions? Queries?”
Stiles looks around the table as he thinks. He has a lot of questions, but he is mostly just dead on his feet.
“Uh, clothes, maybe? How do I-”
“Oh, right! JARVIS, baby, could you send in an order for some basic toiletries and clothing for Stiles? Maybe that shampoo I like from that place in the UK?" Tony directs.
“Of course sir. Is any particular style of clothing necessary?”
“Well, I don’t know, I think there’s this gala-” Stiles cuts Tony off then.
“Just casual, uh, JARVIS. Hoodies, tees, pants, socks…” He trails off.
“Very well, sir." JARVIS says after a long moment. "Arrival is scheduled for late afternoon tomorrow.”
“Cool.” Stiles commends. “Oh, and thanks, too, buddy.”
“You’re very welcome, sir.”
Silence falls between the group settled around him, and Stiles uses that moment to stand up straighter and stretch his muscles out. All eyes fall to him as he moves a bit further from the table.
“So, the sleeping arrangements?” He looks at Bucky and Steve, who both rise.
“You got the last of the pizza?” Steve directs to Tony.
“Yeah, sure Cap, hasta manana!” Tony pulls a pizza box closer to him and grabs another slice, raising an eyebrow in their direction.
Stiles raises a brow back in question but Tony looks away to Natasha and begins a conversation.
“This way.” Steve says, leading the way back into the hallway towards the elevator.
“Yeah, okay, coming.” Stiles says as he follows the two through the building.
The private floor is remarkably similar to the common room floor, from what Stiles can tell. There’s the same layout, same kitchen, same living room, and same hallway of doors that the elevator opens up to. Steve points out his room, Bucky’s room, and the bathroom, and then walks him through the rest of the apartment. They have a mini-gym, “mini” because apparently there’s also an entire set of floors that are all gyms, a sauna room, a movie room, and an art room, which has Steve blushing upon revealing.
It’s all really cool, state-of-the-art shit, which leaves Stiles a little excited and a lot cowed. They show Stiles into a room that puts them directly between Stiles and the elevator. He’s less than surprised when Bucky regards him coldly and issues a warning.
“Do not try to escape. Do not attempt to hurt anyone. JARVIS is watching. I'll be watching. I will stop you and it will hurt.”
Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any emotion during his stern lecture. Stiles feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Steve just watches Bucky speak, allowing him to say his piece before leaving Stiles to his own devices.
“I didn’t plan on it.” Stiles’ voice hedges into bitterness. “I don’t exist. There’s nowhere else I can go anyway.”
Steve claps his hand over Bucky’s shoulder and takes over the bedtime edict.
“Glad that’s settled then. I make breakfast around 8, if you want me to wake you up?” He offers.
“Yeah, okay, that sounds good. Thanks. I’m gonna...” Stiles points behind himself to the guest bed.
Stiles is studiously avoiding resting his glance on Bucky as they say their good-nights.
With the door firmly shut, and his two roommates departed, Stiles trudges over to the bed and flops down over the edge, feet still resting on the floor. He thinks he had a nightmare like this once, where nobody knew him and he was lost in the middle of a big city with no way home.
And that’s not something he wants to think about, but the images behind his closed eyes assault him anyway. And still, it’s better than thinking about how his pack is holding up back home. He’s asleep before he can think of standing back up or getting under the covers.
Tony barges into his room, waking him abruptly, the next morning.
“No time for breakfast, kid. Bruce got back a few hours ago and decided we should run tests as soon as possible, so food’s gonna have to wait awhile.”
Stiles yawns and shifts to sitting. “What time is it?”
“7:30 in the morning, Mr. Stiles.” JARVIS echoes out and Stiles slowly makes his way to standing.
“Yeah, alright, up you get, sleeping beauty. Tests to run. Blood to take. Bruces to meet, and all that. Come on.” Tony herds Stiles out of his room and to the elevator.
“Bruce’s lab, JARVIS.”
“Certainly.” The AI responds as the elevator begins it’s descent.
The elevator doors open to thick concrete walls and a huge metal door. Stiles thinks it resembles a nuclear warhead containment zone, more than a lab, from the outside, but the inside is glass and thin metal and as electronic and advanced as the rest of the building that he’s seen.
“Dr. Bruce Banner.” The man introduces himself with an outstretched hand as they make their way past the veritable blast doors into the lab.
“Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles extends his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Bruce smiles wryly, taking his hand back. “So I need to take a few samples and run a few tests. It’ll probably take close to an hour, I’m guessing. I also have a lot of questions I’d like to ask, if all of that’s alright with you.”
Tony pulls a wheeled stool over to a row of screens and starts playing with them, and Bruce gestures Stiles to follow him to Tony’s side.
“It’s all good.” Stiles informs Bruce as they make their way to Tony. “I mean, I want to figure out how to get back home, and Tony says you can probably help with that, so, it’s fine.”
“I wouldn’t like to get your hopes up, Stiles. If there is anything we can do, we’ll try, but this is largely unexplored territory. So-”
Tony cuts Bruce off, dismissing something on his screen. “So, basically, we’re going to try but maybe make a plan in case it doesn’t work out, right Brucey?”
Bruce sighs and rubs at his temples, but nods. The sinking feeling in Stiles’ gut must show on his face, so Bruce quickly amends.
“We will try everything to get you back home safely, though.”
“No stone unturned.” Tony confirms.
They have JARVIS run multiple scans over his entire body, take blood and skin samples, samples of his hair, samples of his urine, and have him go over what happened the night he got sent to this universe. They ask questions about world events in his universe, and compare it to their own. It leaves Stiles reeling but unabashedly talkative. It seems like they really are trying to help, so it eases some of the stress that's been settling over his bones since the previous night.