Body
body.
011.
Tony stared at the computer monitor even after it went dark, too disgusted to even move.
While he's faced many terrors, watching torture be inflicted upon a seventeen year old child was utterly horrifying. And if he was feeling a little guilty about accusing the kid before he even knew the full story, Tony felt pretty damn awful after having a bigger piece of the story exposed.
He's always been on S.H.I.E.L.D's ass- before and after the fall- so why wasn't he suspicious from the start?
He assumed it was because it kind of hit home a little, especially since Stiles was being accused of terrorist-like activities, but how did Tony not see that maybe he was being framed?
Obadiah was selling weapons in his name right under Tony's nose and he didn't realize it was too late, maybe it was the same kind of scenario for the kid.
Tony leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. When the fuck had his life become so complicated?
"J, make sure to let Pepper know that I won't be available today. I've got a full schedule."
And a full schedule indeed it would be, especially considering all the questions that were practically burning the tip of his tongue.
He needed to talk to Stiles.
Tony stood up quickly, letting the computer chair roll backwards from the force of his movements, looking around the large area that has grown to become his room in the new S.H.I.E.L.D facility. Of course it was only for the times when it was needed for him to stay overnight (like now) which meant that he lived permanently at the Avengers Tower, much like the other members of the team.
He fitted a portion of the room with computers, allowing him to work on projects when his Avenger duties were in full force, and right now, it unfortunately allowed for him to watch the disgusting video evidence that supported his hypothesis that Stiles wasn't really a criminal.
Tony left his room, walking into the elevator with the movements of a man on a mission. He wasn't planing on talking to the team beforehand because he wasn't really in the mood to argue his side.
So he just decided to get his way no matter what.
Upon entering the med unit, Tony offered a smile towards the receptionist as he stalked past the front desk.
He quite aware of the cameras situated within Stiles' room, but he already had a plan; JARVIS.
Tony would have to be an idiot not have JARVIS wired into the building, especially considering that this was an Avengers facility, S.H.I.E.L.D HQ was just working within it.
So his beloved artificial intelligence would mess with the cameras, giving Tony enough time to talk to the kid. He had a hunch that the room would be empty anyways, so he was planning on have JARVIS freeze the frame.
Easy as pie.
Tony pushed open the door that led to Stiles' hospital room, a bitter sweet delight hitting him when he realized that Stiles was, indeed, still locked in the bathroom.
It was weird how much Stiles reminded Tony of himself as a teenager- sarcastic remarks and clever insults to mask what's really happening on the inside.
The thing is, Tony had to figure out what exactly was happening behind the mask.
He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of Stiles' shaking voice, frantically yelling, "No! No! Get out! Get out of my head!"
The engineer's eyes widened, rushing over to the door. He twisted he doorknob, cursing under his breath when he found the door to be locked. "Damn angsty teens." He muttered, grabbing the doorknob in one hand before ramming his opposite shoulder into the door, causing to swing open.
It was actually very fortunate that Stiles wasn't close enough to the door to have been hit, but Tony didn't waste time to dwell on it, instead, he rushed over to the distressed, unconscious teenager.
"Stiles!" He called, kneeling in front of him. "Wake up, kid!" He put his hands on Stiles' shoulders only for him to thrash, nearly smacking Tony in the face.
"Help!" He practically screeched, "Let me go!" His voice was hoarse, cracking upon the second word.
"Hey!" Tony countered, "Hey, kid, wake up!" He took a deep breath before shaking Stiles, letting go quickly when his eyes flew open.
The teenager looked completely petrified, his widened eyes defined by the purple bruises beneath them, and his (worryingly) pale skin was covered in a layer of sweat. Tony backed up with his hands raised slightly, trying to give the impression that he wasn't a threat.
Stiles broke his tortured stare, looking around the bathroom, though he didn't seem to be all the way present. There was a sort of far away look in his eyes, as if he was contemplating reality.
"You with me, kid?" He urged.
The seventeen year old's head snapped back towards him, the glaze over his eyes seemingly gone the moment Tony spoke. It was a moment before he nodded, and while Tony didn't quite believe it, he didn't push the issue.
"I'm gonna need you to come with me." Tony took a small step forward with an outstretched hand. The look on Stiles' face as the words left Tony's mouth was enough to make him want to laugh out loud, but he had enough self control to understand what a time and place was.
"Are you being serious?" Stiles raised an eyebrow.
"Obviously." Tony retracted his hand, crossing his arms.
"I'm not going back into that room." He said with an accusatory tone, giving the engineer a suspicious look.
"That's not where I'm taking you," He wanted to roll his eyes, he really did, but he didn't want to make convincing Stiles an even more difficult task than it already was. "I do have a few questions for you, but not in the same context as before."
Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling himself up and off of the ground as he spoke, "I already told you, I'm not answering any of your lame questions."
Goddamn, was he this stubborn as a seventeen year old?
"I wasn't planning on giving you a choice." Shit, that sounded a little too threatening. "Because I'm pretty sure you're not a psychopathic murderer, and if you answer my questions, you'll prove my theory correct."
Stiles' snarky expression dropped, replaced by one of pure befuddlement.
"What?"
"Tell me," Tony leaned against the doorframe. "How'd you cross paths with a Nogitsune? And what the hell is a werecoyote?"
•
Stiles gave an incredulous look, internally monologuing a 'what the motherfucking fuck' as he tried to think of a way to answer.
Unable to come up with something witty, he settled on a "How should I know?"
Tony gave him an unimpressed look, which did nothing to ease the ball of anxiety that had settled in Stiles' stomach, "I think you know a lot more than you're letting on."
The lanky teen rolled his eyes, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Try Google, I'm sure you'll find what your looking for there." He subconsciously rubbed his arms, trying to keep warm.
It was weird, the way he always felt cold, no matter what. It wasn't like he was in the same boat as Malia was, he didn't suddenly go from having a fur coat to human skin.
Could it be psychosomatic? Or maybe he was just fucking freezing, who really k-
"Stiles." Tony snapped his fingers, effectively regaining the kid's attention.
Stiles blinked a couple times, "What?"
"You know something," Tony accused. "Dumb remarks aren't going to deter my suspicions."
Stiles wanted to roll his eyes, he really wanted to. But he couldn't, because Tony was right. He did know something, in fact, he knew a lot of things.
But these were the kind of things that would send him right back to Eichen House, except this time to the closed unit.
"Say I do know something," Stiles gave a smug look, "What's in it for me?" He arched an eyebrow.
He was met with a surprised expression before it quickly dissolved into a thoughtful one, "Depends, what do you have in mind?"
'My freedom', Stiles thought bitterly but he knew that it wasn't likely. Stiles sighed, running his hand through his hair before he was struck with an idea of what he wanted.
"To shower," He stated. "In a fucking nice shower, not this dingey place-" He gestured to the are around him, "And new clothes. Preferably something warm."
The engineer opened his mouth to reply to Stiles' conditions when the teenager hurriedly added another, "And breakfast." He smiled, childish mischief clear in his expression. "Just let your little secret agent know, he'll understand."
Tony could've laughed at how unbelievably smug Stiles was, though it wasn't a surprise. However, he was slightly caught off guard by Stiles' terms, and while he knew that they weren't exactly wild and out there, he was expecting something along the lines of 'let me the fuck out of here' not for a damn shower.
And breakfast? He was completely positive that the 'agent' Stiles has mentioned was none other than Agent Agent himself.
The kid was proving himself to be a little shit and Tony had a sliver of respect for him because of it.
"Well then," Tony concluded, "Let's get you cleared to leave, then I'll see what I can do."
"Cleared?" Stiles countered. "Better not take long." He mumbled, the teenager rolling his eyes.
Honestly, he just wanted to shower.
He glanced at Tony, though his gaze didn't stay on the billionaire for long, instead flickering behind him, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
Stood in the far corner of the hospital room was none other than the Nogitsune himself, waving a bandage clad hand, and while Stiles couldn't exactly see his eyes, he knew that he was staring right at him.
"Stiles," Once again he was broken away from his thoughts by the sound of his name, blinking the daze out of his eyes.
Tony gave him an odd look, but instead of commenting on it, he just gestured for Stiles to follow behind him.
•
"No." Stiles crossed his arms, fully aware that he was being childish but his inner monologue of 'fuck it' was overshadowing any ounce of care he had.
"So you'd rather be in pain?" The doctor questioned.
He was in the midst of being cleared to leave the med unit, but instead of a smooth process that went by in the knick of time, it was now thirty minutes later and he was getting nowhere.
In the half an hour he was sitting on the uncomfortable check up bench or whatever the hell it was called, they had only talked about one thing and one thing only.
Pain medication.
Stiles had said multiple times that pain medication in the form of pills would've been fine, but they had all denied his request with the excuse that leaving such a high dosage of medication in the hands of a seventeen year old would be dumb and irresponsible, to which Stiles had effectively flipped off all occupants in the room.
Their solution was to have someone administer a shot of the pain medication every four hours, to which Stiles responded with an indignant "Fuck no."
And well, no one seemed to give a fuck about his opinion.
Tony was leaning against the wall by the door, an amused look on his face as Stiles rolled his eyes. "I don't know if you guys remember, but me and needles don't mix." He said, his voice full of attitude. "So, it's pills or nothing. You choose."
The people who surrounded gave him incredulous looks, as if receiving orders by a seventeen year old supposed criminal was the craziest thing that had happened to them.
And you know what? It probably was.
"Mr Stilinski, do you understand how incredibly irresponsible it would be for me to leave pills of-"
"Such a high dosage, yeah, I get it." Stiles mocked the doctor, his expression one of high annoyance.
"I don't believe I appreciate your attitude."
Stiles raised his eyebrows, "I don't believe I care." He shrugged.
The doctor open his mouth to respond when Tony stepped forward, raising his hands as if to lessen the tension, "Alright, alright." He stated. "I feel like I need to step in before things happen,"
Stiles rolled his eyes once again. It wasn't like he was gonna go electrocute some people because he wasn't getting his way. He may seem immature, but he wasn’t.
"Look, I'll take the prescription and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." He alleviated, giving Stiles a pointed look when the teenager went to add in his own two cents.
Honestly, the fact that the adults in this building kept acting like they held some sort of authority over him was getting even more annoying by the second.
"Please, like I would try and get high on some pain medication." He mumbled, though a part of him was highly aware of the fact that that was not their reasoning for not giving him the medication.
The doctor sighed, picking up his clipboard before he scribbled something down, handing a sheet of paper to Tony. "It'll be two pills every four hours." He explained. "Nothing more, nothing less."
"Great." Stiles clapped his hands together. "Now that that's dealt with, we can get going on. I have a shower with my name on it."
"Not so fast," The doctor quickly stopped him, "We're not done here. One, we're not sure if your body temperature is back to where it should be, and two, we still need to talk about your arc reactor."
Instinctively, Stiles hand went directly towards his chest, his fingers brushing the outline of his reactor. "What's it to ya?" He questioned, suspicious evident in his tone.
"Mr Stilinski, are you aware of how filthy and rust ridden that piece of metal is? How did you even get your hands on it?" Doctor What's-His-Face questioned. "In fact, showering may be the last thing you need to do right now, especially if it might risk spreading an infection throughout your body."
Stiles' eyebrows furrowed, "I don't know if you knew this or not, but I was kind of in a lake for a little while, oh, and would you look at that, I'm not dead. I'm pretty sure a shower isn't going to kill me." He sneered.
"Stiles," The doctor pressed a hand to his own forehead, looking exasperated. "We're worried that with the way your arc reactor is positioned in your chest, the rust from the metal will enter your bloodstream and cause infection. We need to know how you crafted your reactor."
Stiles stared at him for a moment before crossing his arms, "Good luck with that."
Tony, who has now broken his five minute vow of silence, spoke up, "Kid, do you want to get out of here or not? Just tell them."
Stiles gave him an unimpressed look, utterly annoyed by the idiocy surrounding him. "Listen, if I knew, maybe I'd say something, but maybe I wouldn't." He knew he was being difficult, but that was basically his life mission.
"What do you mean 'if you knew'?" And now all eyes were on him. Once upon a time, he would've reveled in the attention and probably would've made some lame sarcastic comment for people to laugh, but now, he wanted them to leave him alone.
He looked down at his legs, suddenly interested in the sweatpants covering them instead of the conversation he had involved himself in.
"Stiles," He took a deep breath, trying to stave off his annoyance, feeling the familiar tickle in his finger tips.
"We're not gonna be able to help you if you don't let us."
He closed his eyes, counting down from ten, clenching his fist. His frustration grew with every word that left their mouths, and he could feel Tony's eyes on him.
He was sure that everyone in this room knew about his electrical problems, but he was also sure they didn't seem to give a shit.
"Mr Stilinski,"
And the next thing he knows, there's a hand on his shoulder and his eyes open, his hands suddenly slamming onto the metal sides of the hospital bench, and the lights are flickering.
"Stiles!" The doctor and his nurses were standing away from him, the doctor (who Stiles would come to learn was the one who grabbed his shoulder) clutching his hand as if he was in pain.
To Stiles, it all happened so fast. His fingers were tingling, a light burn on his fingertips from the contact they made with the sides of the bench. He barely had anytime to see the damage he had done before Tony pulled him out of the room, though he was able to catch sight of the blackened sides of the bench.
"What the hell are you doing? What part of incognito do you not understand?!" The engineer yelled as he dragged Stiles down the hall.
He wasn't exactly moving quickly, taking pity on the dazed teen and his broken ankle despite his frustration with the situation.
"What the hell am I doing? What the hell was that! Was that part of your plan? Have them grill me for you?" Stiles retaliated. "That was not my fault!"
"Not your fault? So what, people just fry the sides of a damn bench when they get upset? Is that an everyday thing where your from?"
"Okay, you literally have someone on your team who turns into a green monster when he gets angry, so are you really gonna come at me about what's a 'regular thing'?" He exclaimed, stopping in the stride.
Tony stopped with him, letting go of his arm only to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Okay, fine, you got me there. And no, that wasn't my plan. But I would like to know how you constructed your arc reactor, because before that video cut ou-"
"What video are you talking about?" Stiles questioned, ignoring the burning pain throughout his leg.
"Surveillance footage. From Eichen House."
He wanted to be surprised, but he just wasn't. Brunski was a real son of a bitch. "Look," He said, trying to keep his voice level. "I can't...I can't remember."
Tony raised an eyebrow, "You can't remember how you built an arc reactor?" He sounded unbelieving, which only served to increase Stiles' distaste for him.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." He sneered. "I'm pretty sure I was like half dead, so sue me if I can't remember building a piece of shit metal contraption."
Tony stared at him for a moment, effectively making him a little uncomfortable, before speaking up, "When you say 'half dead', it brings about a few more questions. Like how you faked your own death?"
Stiles froze entirely at that, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"A few days after you left Eichen House, they found your body."
"That...That's not possible." He shook his head. "I'm not dead. That wasn't my body."
Tony looked torn between being confused, worried, and intrigued. "It was. Cause of death was a cut right through the stomach. It was you, which is why I want to know how you did it."
"Tony, it was not me." Stiles insisted. "I...I-I don't know. I didn't fake my death, I just ran away." He subconsciously ticked off each of his fingers, trying to alleviate the overwhelming panic he was beginning to feel.
He wasn't dead. Everyone in Beacon Hills thought he was dead. And a body? That was his?
"Then that means someone faked your death for you." Tony concluded, "Which may lead to more problems."
"Great." Stiles gave him a dirty look. "You're really helping here." His mind was running a mile a minute before it stopped, landing on the final conclusion that was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
How did he miss all the signs pointing to the truth? The dream, the sightings, the feelings?
There was only one way they could've found a body that was his but also wasn't his.
"Oh my god."