Chapter Text
Stiles looked around the airport in Washington D.C for the man his dad sent him to live with.
After everything that had gone down this past school year, with werewolves, the Kanima and all the deaths, not to mention the lying on Stiles’ part and the kidnapping, his dad had enough and sent him to live with his old Ranger buddy, who just happened to be his godfather. Stiles has never even heard of this man, his father never talked about him. At all.
He spotted a black imposing man with an eye patch over left eye, wearing a long black trench coat holding up a sign, which had his full name on it. Like the name his mother gave him that no one could pronounce.
Stiles quickly walked over to him.
“Mieczyslaw Stilinski?” The man asked taking in the busted lip, fading bruised jaw, stitched eyebrow and the way the teen carried himself.
“I go by Stiles, much easier for everyone involved.” Stiles gave the guy a once over. He didn’t trust the man.
“Follow me,”
Stiles followed the man out of the airport, duffle bag swung over his shoulder, out to a black SUV. Stiles tossed his duffle bag into the back seat before climbing into the front passenger seat. The ride to wherever they were going was done in silence.
The man didn’t offer any information nor did Stiles try and ask any questions. The teen was still bitter over the decision his father made, the feeling of betrayal sat heavy in his chest.
It took about an hour and a half to reach their destination. Which, turned out to be a standard of the mill, six floor apartment building, made out of brown brick.
The man parked the vehicle in front of the building and got out. Stiles scrambled out, grabbing his bag, and followed him up the front steps. The building may look old and plain on the outside, but Stiles noticed that it had a keycard panel to open the front doors.
They headed up to the sixth floor and down the hall to a corner apartment. The man opened the door and lead Stiles into the apartment.
The apartment was newly modeled and lacked any personal touches. Stiles suspicion grew.
"There's food in the fridge, help yourself. There's a wifi password on the desk in your room and the TV has fiberoptic cable. I'll be at the office until 9 pm. The number's on the fridge. There's also pamphlets on your bed with the top four schools in the area. Take a look and see which one you would prefer to go to once the summer is over."
With that the man turned around left the apartment.
"Great to meet you to uncle Nicky, whom I've never met before." Stiles mumbled under his breath and went to search out his room.
It was a surprisingly large apartment. Bright and airy, a large kitchen and living room with a fire escape just outside one of the living room windows, and three bedrooms and two bathrooms. One of the bedrooms was turned into an office of sorts. Another was the master bedroom, with yet again no personal touch, with an on suite attached.
The final bedroom Stiles guessed was for him. There was a double bed with black and grey bedding, a low dresser, a bookshelf and a desk. There were the pamphlets on the bed and a sheet of paper on the desk that Stile presumed had the wifi information on.
Stiles placed his duffle bag down at the foot of the bed and took stock of his new room. He felt uncomfortable within the room, so he went about checking for cameras and listening devices.
It took an hour to find four cameras and eight listening devices. He didn't remove them just pretended he didn't find them and made it look like he was looking for the perfect hiding spot to hide his notebook. The one that he wrote a copy of the Argents Beastiary in Archaic Latin. He purposely added complete gibberish with nonsense symbols and codes.
He 'hid' the notebook in the vent in the ceiling purposely blocking the view of the camera there. If his dad wasn't the Sheriff and he hadn't spent years snooping around, Stiles probably wouldn't have known which places to look for the cameras and listening devices.
He then started to unpack. First his clothing, putting them away into the dresser. He didn't pack a lot of things, just more of his nicer stuff. He left the graphic t-shirts a home, if he was still allowed to call it that, and his newest jeans. Followed the clothing was pain medication and two prescriptions of Aderall. He'll probably have to call his doctors back in Beacon Hills to fax over new prescriptions for the up coming school year.
Last was his laptop, that he had gotten Danny's help to set up an encrypted software where it would be extremely impossible to hack. He also got the computer genius to teach him how to hack two days before he left. Apparently with the right instructions Stiles became a pro.
Danny and Deaton were actually the only people that knew he left. He hadn't heard from the pack since the night he was kidnapped and they saved Jackson. Deaton had given him a memory key with magic books scanned onto it. Stiles had wanted to learn more about his Spark so Deaton agreed he could learn through corespondent.
He didn't want to use the Internet incase 'Uncle Nicky' set it up to spy on him like he no doubted had bugged the rest of the apartment. He made a note on his phone to pick up a wireless Internet stick.
He grabbed his laptop and the pamphlets and made his way out to the living room. He wasn't going to chance opening the memory key on his laptop within the apartment. There could be numerous cameras that could pick up everything on his screen.
He placed his stuff on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen to see what he could snack on.
He spotted a case of ginger ale and some grapes. He took a can and some grapes. He washed the fruit in the sink before placing them in a bowl. He brought it back to the couch and coffee table in the living room. He got comfy before grabbing his laptop and opening a spreadsheet program. He was going to compare the schools and see which one would offer him the best program.
He was done hiding his genius behind his ADHD. If he was to be kicked out of his home town he was going to work damn hard to make it in the world and prove that he was better then them.
If he could take a couple extra classes this year he could probably graduate a year early and hopefully get into MIT.
After plugging away at the computer and reading the pamphlets he now a very thorough spreadsheet and a chosen school. It was now a little after 3 pm. The grapes were done and he finished his pop.
He placed his laptop back in the bedroom and cleaned up his little mess.
Stiles had things to do and the first on his list was to find a library and see which bus would take him there. He found where he needed to go and grabbed his wallet and left his phone. He didn't doubt that as soon as he walked into the apartment his phone was scanned and bugged.
The teen grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the front door that looked similar to the ones that he saw his godfather use before leaving and locking the door.
Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. never liked teenagers. You could never trust them. When a very old friend of his called him out of the blue, asking if his teenage trouble making son could live with him for a while, how could he say no? He owed this friend several life debts, it was the least he could do.
As soon as he got off the phone with his old buddy he quickly got Hill on the phone to set up a safe house for him and the kid to live.
It took a week to find and refurbish an apartment along with bugging the place. If the kid truly was a trouble maker he wanted eyes and ears on him at all times. He even went as far as installing a phone scanner in the door way of the apartment so he could track the little menace. Though, that one, only he knew about. It was tied directly to his phone. There was some interesting text messages on there.
He told the select team, on watch of the apartment, that he was testing out a possible asset and that they needed to monitor his every move.
It was a little after 10 by the time he got back to the apartment. The team informed him all of what Stiles had been up to since he left him. He was going to take a look at that notebook he shoved into the vent that pointed at the bed.
The boy was crafty but clearly not smart enough to notice the cameras.
Said teen was still up, sitting on the couch on his laptop watching a movie, some cartoon Disney shit.
"You're still up," Nick shut and locked the door behind him.
"Yeah, still processing everything. I chose a school though." Stiles paused the movie and looked up.
The pamphlet for the top school that was known for graduating students that got early acceptance into MIT, Harvard and Yale. A little ambition for a kid with slightly above average grades.
"We'll set up an interview with the school for next week. Have you eaten dinner?" The man asked. He had to show some concern for the teen.
"Yeah I made stuffed chicken, veggies and mash potatoes about an hour and a half ago. Leftovers are in the fridge."
He was surprised that the teen could cook. Even more surprised that the teen cleaned up after himself. Defiantly not the impression he got from his father.
Nick pulled the leftovers out of the fridge and heated it up. He sat in an arms chair that was beside the couch. He took a bite of the chicken was startled at its wonderful taste, even after being reheated.
"Your dad said that you gotten roughed up a bit from a rival Lacrosse team last week." Nick stated after swallowing. He watched as the teen's shoulders tensed.
"Jocks will be jocks when they think their manliness is threatened." The teen rubbed at the back of his neck.
That was obviously a lie.
"You're going to be coming with me to my office tomorrow and I'll have one of the new recruits start training you in selfdefense." He didn't know why he was about to let it known that he was S.H.I.E.l.D. but that kid was now in his care. If all his troublesome was because of bullying maybe he can sort him out with a little discipline and some selfdefense.
"So you're some sort of spy then?" The teen gave him a sharp look. Nick just gave a raised eyebrow.
"And what makes you think that?"
"This is a newly renovated apartment with no personal touch, no photos. It has the minimal of furniture. The TV is new along with everything else. There was still some of the blue protective plastic on the back of the TV and some of the appliances. You drove by the apartment before noticed that you drove by it. Dad is the Sheriff I picked up a few things from him." The teen placed his laptop on the coffee table and gave a shit eating grin.
That little shit.
"Get to bed. We're leaving by five am." Nick ordered sharply taking another bite of the delicious food.
So far, one thing that kid has going for him, would be if the rest of his cooking was delicious as this one.
"Good night 'uncle Nicky'," The brat gave a smirk, grabbing his laptop and headed to his bedroom.
Fury's left eye twitched. Maybe he could have Romanov do his defense training, that will teach the little snot.
He finished his dinner, cleaned his dishes and went to get ready to go to bed himself. If he slept with both guns under the pillow that night it was nobody's business.
Stiles set his alarm for four am, before getting ready for bed. He felt subconscious as he peeled his top off. The movement aggravated wounds that were scabbing over and pulled on his sore muscles.
Stiles had to give it to that old fucker. Gerard certainly knew how to torture someone. He had Deaton look him over the day after and the vet was able to prescribe him pain medication and clean the wounds he couldn't get. The vet wasn't half bad at stitching his eyebrow either. His dad thought he went to a regular doctor, he wasn't about to tell him otherwise. Not that it would matter, the man did send him away with out any room for argument.
He took two pain killers before falling face first onto the bed. He looked at his phone there was still no messages from anyone back home. His dad had text him earlier if he had arrived alright and to remind him not to cause any trouble or his next stop would be to be shipped off to the military.
Sleep had come surprisingly quick. It was like he blinked and his alarm was jerking him awake. He went flying off the bed and landed painfully on his back.
He groaned and rolled over. Slowly he got to his feet and shuffled over to his desk. He took two pain killers and he couldn't take any Aderall with the pain meds. His concentration will be shot today.
He took a quick shower, changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before packing a change of clothing and pain meds into a backpack he picked up yesterday. He left his other one back in Beacon Hills. He grabbed his phone off of the nightstand and headed through the apartment.
'Uncle Nicky' was already ready and eating breakfast and sipping some coffee at the kitchen island as he read a report on his phone.
Stiles grabbed a apple and a cup of coffee and slid into the seat beside the older man.
"Is that all you're going to eat?" The man asked.
Stiles looked down at the apple in his hand. Ever since that night his appetite has dwindled. He didn't know why, he always had a really healthy appetite.
"For now. I'll probably grab something out of the fridge on the way out."
Fury gave the teen a hard stare.
"Which I won't be eating in the car." The teen rolled his eyes.
The drive to the Triskelion was quit, which Stiles is guessing will be the new norm in his life. He was given a ID badge and apparently his biometrics was already programmed into the security system.
"So you work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Stiles attempted small talk as they stepped into the elevator.
"Welcome Director Fury." A robotic female voice sounded.
Stiles saw Fury's picture on a control panel with level 10 above it. His picture followed shortly after with level 2.
"Well then, you're a director of S.H.I.E.L.D., what does level 2 get me? Are you recruiting me? I'm pretty sure this wasn't what my dad had in mind when he said to keep me out of trouble." Stiles began to babble. He hasn't dealt with everything that's been happening. He's allowed to babble.
"Training," Fury ordered before turning to Stiles.
"Training, fifth floor." The elevator announced.
"Level 2 gets you into the building and to the training floor without being shot." Fury stated.
Stiles didn't know if that was the old man's humour or if it was the actual truth.
The elevator stopped at the training floor.
"Head on in, I'm going to send an agent in to come an train you." Fury gestures for the teen to get off.
Stiles scowled and did as he was told. He turned to look at his guardian.
"My office,"
The elevator's door closed in Stiles' face.
Stiles glared at the doors before he turned around to look at the hallway. It branched off in two directions. To the right were the shooting range, STRIKE obstacle course, whoever they were, and the armory. To the left was the gym and pool.
“The devil goes left.” Stiles headed towards the left.
The gym was huge with glass windows along one wall that would bring in natural sun light, when the sun actually came up. It was still pretty early not many people were even in the building. There was a section off area for weights and treadmills up against the windows. There was even a boxing ring. However, what took up most of the space was the map covered floor right by the a wall with mirrors. There was two separate doors that lead to different gender locker-rooms.
Stiles placed his bag against the wall of mirrors and clipped his ID badge to the outside of his bag. He sat on the mats looking into the mirrors.
He stared at his healing reflection in the mirror. He hated what he saw. It reminded him that he was a weak human, not allowed to defend himself. If he was allowed he was pretty sure he could have taken creepy gramps on his own.
He must have been sitting there for a while as the next moment there were about ten agents working out around the gym.
A group of four agents walked towards Stiles. All four were male and laughing at what the man in the middle of the group said. Stiles didn’t have a good feeling about the four of them judging from the looks on some of the other agents.
The sun was already rising in the sky so it must have been around seven.
“Oh look its a baby agent,” The middle agent stated with a leer. Stiles just stared at the men.
“I think the newbie is to enraptured by you Stevens.” One of the men joked to the middle man, no doubt trying to get a rile out of either Stiles or Stevens.
“Keep your eyes to yourself fag.” Agent Stevens hissed towards Stiles.
Stiles sighed standing and turning to the men behind him.
“Though I like guys, you are not even worth being on my radar. I’m not into stupid and ugly.”
He probably should have kept his mouth shut. He saw Stevens’ eyes narrow in anger before he lunged for Stiles.
The glass of the mirror shattered when Stiles was slammed into it. A knee to the gut had him doubling over in pain. The agent backed off slightly which gave Stiles the room he needed to retaliate.
Stiles rammed his shoulder into the other guy’s gut and rolled over him as the agent fell to the ground. He quickly got to his feet. He had an opportunity here than what he had in the basement of Chris’ house. Here they didn’t expect him to be weak, to be defenseless.
He took a defense stance. He was no way defenseless. His dad did give him self defense when he was younger along with training on how to use a gun. Though those lessons always came with the warning that he wasn’t to use what he was taught on anyone. He kept his promise even when the aged hunter kidnapped and tortured him.
“You think you actually have what it takes to take on a level four agent?” Stevens got to his feet.
Stiles took a deep breath and ducked under the wide swing of the agent before punching him in the stomach. The man stumbled back from Stiles holding his stomach. Stiles didn’t give him a chance to breath before jumping at the man, both knees hitting the chest and and punching the guy in the face. The man dropped to the mats dazed, blood pouring from his nose. Stiles rolled off him into a crouch.
The agent must have signaled two of his buddies because Stiles was suddenly grabbed and held against the shattered mirror. He could feel the shards digging into his back.
Stevens got up and stalked towards Stiles. The guy went to punch Stiles in the stomach when the teen used the two other agents to hold him up while he sent Stevens flying with a kick to the chest. Using the stun reactions from the two holding him, Stiles twisted out of their hold and knocked them off of him. One of the agents took a hold of his t-shirt to try and wrangle him in. He twisted and slid out of his shirt which exposed all his injuries.
“What is going on here?” An authoritative voice yelled throughout the gym.
Stiles had his back to the new person, keeping the threat in front of him.
Everything stopped in the gym. The agents that had attacked Stiles stiffen.
“I asked what is going on here,” There was a presence beside Stiles. He looked out the corner of his eyes and had to do a double take.
Standing beside him, glaring at the agents, was fucking Captain America. The super soldier was in his uniform, minus the helmet with his shield on his back.
“We were just sparing with a junior agent.” Stevens stated picking himself up off the mats. The man’s face was a mess.
“He is not an agent!” Captain America hissed pointing a finger in Stiles’ direction.
“I’m a 16 year old teen, recovering from trauma, and just moved to Washington yesterday.” Stiles spat out. “You guys are fucking adults and fucking bullies.” Stiles moved forwards and pushed passed his three tormentors. The fourth agent was surprisingly nowhere in sight. He didn’t even see him during the fight.
Stiles picked up his backpack, wincing at the sharp pains of his back and ribs, and made his way to the doors. He was leaving. He’ll find his own way back to the apartment. Fuck Fury, and fuck his dad.
“You three will report directly to Director Fury and explain why you attacked his godson.” Captain America glared at the three agents who paled even further, before the Captain left the gym to catch up to the injured teen who was now waiting by the elevator. The teen’s back was bleeding as the kid pulled a long sleeved shirt out of his backpack.
“Wait Mr. Stilinski.” The Captain jogged to reach the elevator just as the doors opened.
Stiles stepped into the elevator and sighed.
“Captain,” Stiles gave a nod of his head while he dropped his bag to put his shirt on.
“Medical,” Captain America told the elevator as he stopped Stiles from putting his shirt on. Stiles gave him a puzzled look.
“We need to get those shards out of your back, your eyebrow needs to be restitched, and you might have a few bruised or even cracked ribs.”
Stiles dropped his arms by his side.
Why was this happening to him? He was safer in Beacon Hills. At least it took 16 years for him to become really injured. Once he left, it took only a day.
The elevator stopped at the 24th floor and the Captain guided Stiles through the halls to the medical wing.
Stiles was getting his back taken care of when his guardian stormed in to the privet room. Captain America had been standing, hovering beside the doctor that worked on his back being all intimidating.
“I can’t leave you a lone for one minute.” Fury stopped in front of Stiles looking the boy over.
“No, you just need better agents.” Stiles hissed as the doctor removed a large shard from his back.
"Captain Rogers is going to be your defence instructor once you've healed."
Stiles sputtered. "Are you freaking kidding me? I'm sure Captain America has better things to do."
Rogers stood a little taller. "It is not a problem, I a sure you. You do not have too bad of a form when I saw you wrestle away from Jefferson and Hunt when I walked in."
Stiles just stared before he felt a sharp prick and pulling sensation.
"Couldn't you have froze that?" Stiles hissed to the doctor behind him. The doctor sent a glare back.
"It's settled. When Captain Rogers is busy, I'll have two of my other agents take over your lessons." Fury stated.
"What am I to do for the rest of the day?" Stiles asked as the doc tied of the stitches on one cut before he began on another.
"You will rest here. I'll be back around 8 pm to take you home." With that Fury turned and left the infirmary.
"Yeah sure leave the injured teen all by himself with nothing to do," Stiles grumbled. If he knew he was going to be stuck in a hospital like settings he would have brought his laptop or a friggen book to read.
Captain America didn't say anything and just stood there. He felt a little guilty about the teen being injured. Once he had over heard the director talk to his assistant to find his godson a trainer he stepped up and offered his service. Usually he never got involved with another agent's training but he had an impulse. So he immediately headed down to the training floors. However, as soon as he got to the floor Rumlow and some of the STRIKE team had stopped him to go over what they were to go over later in the day. Steve humoured the team until he heard glass shattered in the gym.
He went running towards the gym and was shocked to see what was going on. He saw Hunt and Jefferson holding, who he presume to be the director's godson, against a shattered mirror, Stevens was on the mat, blood pouring out of his nose. He was on his way to pull the two other agents off of the injured teen when the teen had gotten out of their hold, which his shirt was lost along the way. He was sickened by the further injuries that littered the teen's torso and back. If he had told STRIKE to shove it, he would have been there to stop Stevens and the other two agents from attacking the teen.
"You know, you don't have to keep standing there." The teen broke the super soldier out of his thoughts.
The doctor had now moved on to wrapping the teen's ribs and covering the stitches.
Steve stared for a moment before saying anything.
"You are not a novice," Steve observed.
The teen shot him a cocky grin that reminded him of Bucky's. Now wasn't that a punch to the chest.
"My dad taught me how to protect myself when I was younger, and when mom was dying she made me promise not to use it on anyone." The doctor moved away from the teen to start cleaning up the bloodied equipment and gauzes.
"Once you are healed we'll test to see how much you know and then continue from there."
The teen gave a nod. "Are there any books around here or something?" The teen asked.
"I'll see what I can find." Steve gave a small smile and went in search of something to entertain the teen.
It took a half hour for Steve to find anything. He grabbed a spare drawing pad from his locker and some pencils. He got back and the teen had fallen asleep on the hospital bed, laying on his side as to not aggravate the wounds on his back.
Steve gave a smile, placed the drawing pad on the side table. He grabbed a blanket off of another bed and placed it over the sleeping teen. He pulled up a chair and sat at the teen's bedside.
He pulled out his cell phone and video called Tony.
"Hey capscicle, what's up?" Tony's face came into view. The man had grease smudges on his cheeks.
Steve held a finger against his mouth before giving a huge smile.
"Just wanted to check in with you, see how your doing." A blush graced Steve's cheeks.
"What's with the whispering?" Tony asked whisper back.
Steve flipped the camera around to point at the sleeping teen.
"Geeez what happened to the kid? Who is the kid?" Tony asked.
The camera turned back to Steve's face.
"That is Fury's godson. He was injured before he came to live with Fury yesterday. This morning three agents attacked him." Steve explained.
"Fury has a godson?" Tony looked bewildered.
"Apparently,"
Tony's eyes narrowed. "Do we need to kick some agent asses?" He asked.
Steve gave a small chuckle. "No, my self and Fury are taking care of it. How's everything on your end?"
Tony gave him a sultry look. "Missing you and your dick terribly."
Steve flushed. "Tony that's not appropriate."
Tony gave a grin. "I just can't help it. You are just so tempting."
"Please don't have phone sex while I'm in the room." A groan came from from the teen.
"That kid can't be Fury's, Fury has no sense of humour."
Stiles slowly blinked awake. He blinked at the hero beside his bed, who had Iron Man on the phone. "Fuck I must have hit my head," Stiles blinked.
He couldn't believe Iron Man was in a relationship with Captain America.
"Are we adopting him?" Tony asked.
Stiles sputtered.
"I'm not sure yet,"
Stiles groaned and buried his head in the pillow. "I'm not awake enough for this conversation."
Both Iron Man and Captain America laughed.
"I'll call you back later Tony," Captain America smiled.
"Later boo," Iron Man kissed the screen on his end before the call ended.
Stiles looked at Captain America.
"Go back to sleep, the day will pass quicker." The Captain stated getting up. "There's a drawing pad and some pencils when you wake again."
"Thank you," Stiles' eyes began to flutter closed.
"Get some rest Mr. Stilinski."
"'M Stiles," He mumbled.
"Sleep Stiles,"
Stiles felt a hand in his hair before he went off to dream land.
Nick Fury stared at the sleeping form of the teen down in medical. He had yet to think of a proper punishment for the three agents, he didn't know if he could fire them as they were good at what they do. He would have to consult Hill or Coulson about it.
He had watched the video of the attack. The agents were clearly the ones that started it. Stiles turned out to not be to bad at fighting. He recognized some of the moves the teen used from his days in the Rangers. Stiles' father was one hell of a hand to hand combatant. Maybe he should have Barton and Romanov help train the teen after all.
What surprised him was that non of the other agents in the room hadn't even stepped to stop it. Maybe he should speak to his agents at large. Host one of those WHMIS workshops or some shit like that.
Nick saw the Captain return back to the room four hours later. What was it about his godson that drew the super soldier in. He watched as the super soldier sat in one of the chair and took the sketch book off of the table and began to draw.
Throughout the rest of the day Fury looked in on his godson via the video feed. The teen got up around 1 pm to eat, though it wasn't much. Rogers was there for an hour before he had to leave to continuing training the Strike team.
The teen had tried to sneak out of the room a few times but were caught when Fury alerted the staff of what he was doing. He eventually stopped trying and took the sketch book Rogers left and started to draw at the back of the book.
It was closer to 9 pm by the time Fury was able to get down to the medical wing. Stiles was back asleep.
Fury gently shook the teen's shoulder. Which turned out to be a not so smart move as the teen jolted awake and nearly flew off the other side of the bed.
"Easy Stiles,"
The teen looked frightened for a moment, hyperventilating until he got his bearings.
"Come on it's time to go home." Fury said gently. The teen rubbed his eyes and slowly got up, careful of his back.
The teen grabbed his bag from the other chair Rogers hadn't been using. He pulled out a long sleeve shirt and carefully pulled it on. He stared at the sketch book that Rogers left behind before grabbing it and following Fury to the door.