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"Time to call home, kid." The Hunter -- well, it had to be even if he hadn't announced himself as one -- put a flip phone in Stile's hands. Huh. At least someone was intelligent enough to give this Idiot a non-smart burner phone. Although that wouldn't make much difference in the end.
"Why should I?" Stiles knew he had to buy time.
"Because more people will die if you don't," the Idiot replied.
Stiles bit his lip. "I... you're going to kill me," he said softly.
"It's not personal, if that helps."
Stiles couldn't hold back a snort. "Oh, right. Sure. That helps. Not!"
"Call. Now."
"What do I say?" Stiles asked.
"You leave that to me. Once you identify yourself, I'll do the talking."
Stiles sighed. Why, oh why, did he get the idiots? He dialed the phone. He listened as it rang.
A mechanical voice answered. "This number has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check the number you are calling or try again."
"What the fuck?" Stiles muttered. He hung up and dialed again. He got the same disconnected notice. "What the fuck is going on? That's my home number! It should not be disconnected!" Stiles looked at the phone and heaved a breath in frustration.
The Idiot choked out a small laugh. "You went away and they left right behind you."
"But... it's my dad!" Stiles gave a weak protest.
"Call someone else!" the Idiot ordered.
Stiles shrugged. "That's the only number I know from memory. For anyone else I need my phone." He gave his own mirthless laugh. "Oh, right. The phone you left behind when you kidnapped me!"
"You don't know any other numbers?" Idiot persisted.
"I got nothing," Stiles shrugged.
"Try it again," the Idiot directed.
"It's going to do the same thing," Stiles warned.
"Do it!"
Stiles picked up the phone and dialed the same number. And got the same automated disconnected message.
"I don't know what is going on!" Stiles looked at the phone in dismay. "It should work!"
"I don't know what to tell you, kid," Idiot was actually faintly sympathetic.
Stiles held the open phone in his hand as the message replayed itself again a third time.
"Enough!" Idiot grabbed the phone from Stiles. He listened to the message through yet another time before closing the phone.
Stiles slumped in the chair he was chained to. A chair that was very sturdy as well as bolted to the floor. Someone knew what they were doing when they designed this set-up -- and it wasn't this guy. "Okay, I need to piss, if nothing else."
Idiot debated about it and shrugged. He took a single step into the kitchen and brought out an empty Gatorade bottle. "Here. Use this."
Stiles frowned at it. "Really?"
"Piss in your pants, then. I don't care."
"No thanks," Stiles said. "Go away for a minute."
"I'm not supposed to leave you alone," Idiot replied.
"Turn around then," Stiles made a circling motion with his hand. "I'm not giving you a free show."
"Oh, all right," Idiot replied, turning to look out a window.
Stiles really did have to piss, so he unscrewed the cap and set it where he wouldn't knock it on the floor and then carefully unzipped his jeans. They couldn't have kidnapped him when he was in something comfier? Jeez. But there was a sense of relief of being able to piss, even if it was into a bottle. He screwed on the cap, making sure it was firmly closed. He re-zipped his pants.
"Done now," Stiles announced.
"You can keep that," Idiot said. "That way I don't have to touch it."
"Oh, sure. Thanks," Stiles said sarcastically. "Now what?"
"We wait," Idiot replied.
"For what?" Stiles asked, honestly curious.
"Nothing you need to know anything about," Idiot said firmly.
Stiles huffed and sat back in the chair. He wondered what kind of instructions Idiot had. They probably didn't cover this situation. He probably had a memorized message to pass on and then instructions to kill Stiles. Stiles would prefer if that part of the instructions didn't happen.
Stiles started fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. There wasn't much of anything to look at. The chair was in what would be a living room, against a solid-looking wall. One room off to his right was obviously a kitchen but he couldn't tell anything about the layout of the rest of the house. The room he was in didn't have any doors that led to the outside, which was probably a good thing at the moment.
"Sit still!" Idiot demanded.
"What? I didn't get to take my Adderall this morning before you so rudely knocked me out and kidnapped me!" Stiles defended. "Unless you have some coffee? That would help."
"Nope, only water," Idiot admitted. "Nothing to eat here at all. You're lucky I had the Gatorade bottle."
"What were you going to eat?" Stiles was appalled.
"Didn't think it would take this long," Idiot replied. "Was going to pick up lunch on my way back to town."
"Dude!" Stiles replied.
"I know, I know," Idiot said. "I'll be fine."
Stiles wriggled in the chair some more and tried to meditate. He did manage to doze off for a short while before he jerked awake when his head fell forward. He slumped forward a bit so he could lay his head on the back of the chair but that was even more uncomfortable.
Idiot strolled back and forth through the room, looking out the windows on occasion.
Suddenly, there was a knock on what Stiles was assumed was a door at the other end of the house. Rat-tat-a-tat-tat
"You stay here and don't make a sound," Idiot directed.
"Chained up!" Stiles said, rattling the chains a bit.
"Quiet!" Idiot commanded.
Stiles made a zipping motion across his mouth.
Idiot left the room and several things happened at once...
...the window in the room Stiles was chained up in broke in a tinkle of class and Peter leaped through the frame in wolf form... with a crackle of bones, he transformed back to human shape...
...an amplified voice announced "FBI! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!" came from the front of the house...
...a single shot came through a window and Stiles heard a body fall...
...Peter said loudly, "I've got him. He's fine!" before he leaned over and gave Stiles a quick kiss.
"You okay?" Peter asked as he casually broke the chains holding Stiles in place.
"Yes, worrywolf!" Stile nodded. He stood and then stumbled and would have fallen if Peter hadn't been there to catch him. Peter set him back into the chair.
"Stiff from sitting," Stiles tried to brush it off.
"You smell like they gave you something," Peter leaned in for a good sniff.
"Okay, thought maybe that had worn off," Stiles nodded. "Must still be some in my system."
Derek broke in by simply wrenching the back door off its hinges.
"Derek, get a medic so we can get a blood sample so we can see if we can figure out what they used to knock Stiles out," Peter directed.
Derek nodded and went out.
The room was suddenly flooded with bodies.
His dad rushed over and knelt down next to him. "You okay, kiddo?"
"Yeah, mostly," Stiles nodded.
A medic came over and dropped a case next to Stiles' chair. "I hear I need to take a blood sample?"
Stiles held out an arm. "Yeah, before it metabolizes completely," he said. "Whatever it was, it was fast acting. Although I don't have a headache that I get from most things that knock me out."
"Kinda sad that you know that sort of thing," John said as he stood.
Stiles shrugged. "Hazards of the business." He looked around. "Oh, right. Take the Gatorade bottle. I pissed in that a few hours ago. That might help, too."
The medic put a ball of cotton and some masking tape over the needle hole. "I'll get this into the system."
"Thanks," Stiles nodded.
The medic took the vials of blood and someone handed him an evidence bag to put the Gatorade bottle in. He packed up his kit and left.
"You know the drill, kiddo," John said.
"Yeah, yeah," Stiles sighed. "I'll be good."
Someone had brought clothes for Peter, although most of the team was pretty inured to his nudity at this point. Half of them were 'wolves or supernatural-adjacent, so it wasn't special.
They loaded Stiles into the back of the ambulance and took him off to the private hospital room that had been set aside for their use. They knew one of them would end up getting taken, that was the plan, so that person would need at least overnight observation.
Stiles let the doctors take more blood and check him over before Peter came into the room. Peter handed him a box which turned out to be a sub, chips and a soda. Stiles dug in, he was starved after not eating all day.
His dad followed along shortly.
Stiles went through what he knew from his side. It really wasn't a lot.
"Idiot was only a grunt," Stiles said. "When I couldn't call any other numbers, he didn't know what to do and decided to wait rather than finish me off."
Both his dad and Peter flinched at that bald statement.
John pointed at Stiles. "You are taking the next round off. Don't fight me on that!"
Seeing the flare of red in Peter's eyes, Stiles sighed. "All right, all right. But we've spent too much time building my cover to not use it."
"That's a conversation for another day," John said firmly.
"The disconnected number thing really threw him for a loop, though," Stiles grinned.
"Being able to track you back from calling that number is a brilliant piece of technology," John nodded. "And getting him to have you call it more than once was good."
"Not sure it would work with anyone any brighter," Stiles replied. "But it's a good way to send up a flag for help."
"Anything else tonight?" Peter asked the room.
"Get some sleep," John directed. Then looked at Peter. "Both of you!" He leaned over the bed and gave Stiles a firm hug. "See you in the morning!"
Stiles finished off the food and handed the box to Peter, who set it on a handy table.
"Get in here," Stiles directed, lifting up the blanket.
Peter stripped down to his shorts -- it was a hospital and someone would check on Stiles at some point during the night -- and slipped into the bed.
"Putting a tracker in you," Peter muttered into Stiles' neck as he wrapped himself around Stiles.
"Probably not a bad idea," Stiles agreed. "Everyone we have out in the field should have one. We can get the geeks to work on it."
"Tomorrow," Peter said firmly.
"Tomorrow," Stiles agreed. Now that he was safe, he could finally relax. He clutched Peter closer. Peter would keep watch for both of them.