Work Text:
It’s been a typical Saturday night in the Emergency Department. Patients have run the full gamut from simple to complex. Lots of drunken fights resulting in broken noses and black eyes. A few traffic accidents with injuries. Several overdoses with an assortment of drugs. Two sexual assault cases. Multiple gunshot wounds. And a variety of random accidents. After a couple of days off, it’s a nice welcome back to the fray.
Stiles likes this fast pace, constantly moving and being busy, but he’s been given the stink eye from his staff all night because they have a running joke that he jinxes them with busy nights. Despite the fact that the nurses always groan dramatically when they arrive and see him on the floor, he knows they enjoy working with him. He might have his favorites, but all of them are solid nurses.
His last patient of the day is a toddler who has a Lego stuck in her ear. The parents are freaked out, but she’s happy and babbling at him while he works the small toy out of her ear canal. He wishes all babies were as easy going because they’re usually loud and screaming. He has Susie rinse the child’s ear once the Lego is removed, then takes one last look before writing his discharge instructions.
“Why would they give their two year old Legos?” Susie murmurs when they leave the room and walk down the hall.
“They don’t pay attention, but I bet they do now,” he says, looking down at her. “I’ve noticed that first time parents seem to be on a spectrum. They’re either overprotective and extremely careful or they’re laid back and don’t pay enough attention to things like age restrictions for toys.”
“You sound like you’re as old as Dr. Bagley,” Susie says dryly. She’s finally starting to relax a little and not seem so nervous when they work together. Turns out, she’s a bit sassy in a fun way.
“I’m glad that you said ‘sound like’ instead of ‘look like’, Susie,” he tells her. “Otherwise, I’d be worried.”
She snorts. “You look like you’re a teenager, Dr. S, so I don’t think anyone will ever confuse you with a seventy year old man.”
“Good to know. I’ll have to keep up my current skincare regimen,” he says with a wink. “I’m going to finish up my charting now. Have a good day.”
“Wait, Dr. S,” Susie says, looking around the hall before she steps closer. “This is awkward, but would you have time to meet with me after our shift? I have something that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Susie, you seem like a sweet lady, but I’m not interested—“ Stiles starts to say.
“Oh God. No,” she says hastily, her eyes growing big as she seems to anticipate his next words. She whispers, “I’m not hitting on you, Doctor Stilinski.”
“Oh,” Stiles says, blinking at her before smiling. “Thank goodness, I was concerned things were about to become very strained.”
“I don’t date where I work,” she says, making a face. “And, no offense, but you aren’t my type. Attractive men are just way too much effort.”
That statement makes him laugh. He can’t help it. “No offense taken,” he assures her. “Do you want to go to the caf to have that discussion?”
“I'd rather not speak with you here,” Susie says. “Maybe we can go down to the Bagel and Barista on 138th? I’d rather no one from work see us.”
“Is it about the hospital?” he asks curiously. “Compliance has an anonymous reporting system if you’re having an issue.”
“Will you meet me there or not, Dr. S?” she asks. “I need to finish my charting and give my report to the first shift.”
“Sure, I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes,” he says, wondering what’s so important that she needs to meet away from the hospital. Of course, that might simply be to protect her reputation because this place can be worse at gossiping than a high school.
It doesn’t take long to finish the remainder of his charting. He’s distracted trying to figure out what on Earth Susie wants to talk to him about. Considering recent events, he’s also maintaining a fair amount of caution because she’s only worked at the hospital for a few months, and he doesn’t know anything about her background.
Considering that someone with a professional reputation like Dr. Wash is mixed up with Hydra agents, Stiles knows that anyone could be involved with them. It’s good that he’s always had trust issues because it makes it easy to be suspicious of everyone without becoming paranoid. Well, no more paranoid than he normally is, at least.
When he leaves the hospital and starts the walk to the Bagel coffee shop, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He opens his text thread with Dreamboat and types a message.
Having a coffee with a nurse who said she wants to speak with me about something she isn’t comfortable discussing at the hospital.
A response comes through before he can even put his phone away. Is she a friend?
Stiles snorts and types his answer. No, colleagues only.
His phone rings almost immediately.
“Why are you meeting a colleague for coffee away from work, Doc?” Bucky asks in lieu of a greeting.
“Because she asked me to discuss something with her,” Stiles says simply.
“Is she pretty?” Bucky asks, his tone changing slightly.
Stiles rolls his eyes. “What does that matter?” he asks.
“It matters, Doc,” Bucky says dryly.
“She’s cute, but this isn’t about that. I clarified, and she said I’m not her type because attractive men are too much effort,” he says, just as dryly.
“Where are you going? Is she your type? Do you think this is smart?” Bucky asks, smoothly working in one question that isn’t like the other. “Does she know Wash?”
“My type seems to be attractive smartasses with a fondness for Sinatra these days,” he says, amused that Bucky seems concerned about that as much as he does about the potential risk of Stiles meeting privately with a coworker. “ Anyway , I just wanted you to know in case she turns out to be some kind of super spy who tries to kill me.”
“Where are you going, Doc?” Bucky asks again, sounding more smug than earlier. “Sinatra is great. If you give him a listen, you’d be a fan, too.”
“I don’t need a chaperone, Buck. I can take care of myself,” he says pointedly. “And I’ll check him out. Promise.”
“I know you can,” Bucky says. “I just want to know in case you get kidnapped. It’s not like I’m going to intrude on your little discussion.”
Stiles snorts. “You’d better not,” he warns. “It’s the Bagel and Barista Cafe, which is about a ten minute walk from the hospital. I’m almost there, actually, so maybe not that long.”
“Be careful, Doc,” Bucky tells him. “Text me after she leaves so I know you’re alright.”
“Okay, Dad,” he says. “If I do happen to go missing, her name’s Susie, and Alicia can give you her info.”
“Didn’t think you’d be the type for those kinds of games, Doc,” Bucky teases, his low chuckle making Stiles’ heart race. “You’d better not get kidnapped. I’d rather not have to go rescue your cute ass.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Stiles says, ignoring the flirty comment because he’s arrived at the coffee shop. “Bye, Buck.”
He hangs up and enters the place, looking around but not seeing Susie yet. There’s a line, but several tables are empty since most people are getting their orders to go. After he orders a coffee and a muffin, he grabs a table and waits.
By the time Susie comes in, he’s finished his muffin and has had a refill. She comes to the table and puts her bag down. “I’m sorry, Dr. S. My relief was late, and it took me longer to walk here than I expected.”
“It’s fine. I was going to give you another fifteen minutes,” he says. “Go get your coffee then we can have this mysterious discussion.”
She gets in line and returns with a large drink, a breakfast sandwich, and a muffin. She hands him the muffin. “For making you wait when I’m the one who asked to meet.”
“You didn’t have to, but I’ll certainly eat it,” he says, peeling the wrapper from the base. “Now, tell me what you want to discuss with me, Susie.”
“First off, I wanted to apologize for being wary of you,” she says. “I know it’s become a bit of a joke on the floor, but I didn’t intend for anyone to notice.”
“It’s fine,” he says, arching a brow as she bites into her sandwich. If this is what she wants to discuss, why the hell couldn’t she have done it at work?
She swallows her bite and gives him a look. “That isn’t why I wanted to talk to you,” she tells him. “I wanted to explain why I had such a reaction to you because I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?” Stiles leans back in his chair and stares at her. “What kind of favor?”
“A magical kind,” she says quietly, meeting his gaze and flashing her eyes. He sits up, seeing the familiar gold of a werewolf that quickly returns to her usual dark brown. “When we had the domestic violence case last month, I could smell your magic and sense your power. You’re very good at concealing your scent because I had no idea you were part of our community until then.”
“You’re a born wolf,” he says, not asking because he knows she must be. She doesn’t have any of the tells that he’s used to. “Otherwise, I would have noticed.”
“Generational,” she acknowledges. “But I think that most of our kind who end up here are good at hiding their true nature. New York is a great place to get lost.”
“Are there others at the hospital?” he asks, thinking of everyone he interacts with during the course of his day. “I thought I’d removed myself from that world yet I’ve been working with a shifter for months.”
“There are a few,” Susie says. “It isn’t my place to reveal them anymore than it’s my place to reveal you to any of them. I wouldn’t have even noticed your power if I hadn’t been in the patient’s room with you that night.”
“I respect that,” he says, though he isn’t relying on her keeping that sentiment because he’s already used his spark on her so she’s unable to discuss his identity with anyone who isn’t aware. “However, you’ve lured me here to discuss a favor, so I haven't formed an opinion yet.”
“My aunt is my alpha. I’m not sure how aware you are about how pack works in a city this large,” she says, “but it isn’t typical.”
“How so?” He’s curious even if he doesn’t want to be involved in the supernatural world here. Well, it’s not necessarily a want so much as a need. His thirst for knowledge is piqued, though, and it’s obvious from her smile that she’s noticed. “I’m just asking a question. This is not me agreeing to any favors from a colleague I barely know.”
“Most alphas have set territory lines that are defined rather formally,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “In the city, there aren’t formal lines because there are more alphas living here than most places.”
“So there isn’t some main alpha that everyone has to report to?” He always wondered how Derek and his sister had been able to hide out here so easily, but he’s starting to understand the bigger picture. “Hunters aren’t a problem here? With so many supernaturally inclined hiding around?”
“There are two hunter clans in the area, but they work with the alphas and follow a code. Are you familiar with hunters?” she asks, looking at him with surprise. “Most of us don’t have anything to do with them. My aunt mentions them is the only reason I know they’re even around.”
“I’ve crossed paths with hunters who didn’t follow a code,” he says, watching her face change to one of concern. “Not a lot of fond memories.”
“I understand your choice to conceal your abilities then,” she says honestly. “I didn’t realize you were deliberately hiding your nature, Dr. Stilinski. I’ve met other magic users— our kind of magic, that is—and they’ve had a similar concealment of their magic. When my aunt told me about an issue, I mentioned that I worked with a magic user, and she asked me to reach out.”
“Have you told anyone else?” he asks, fingers drumming against his thigh. What he wouldn’t give for Scott’s senses right now to know if she’s lying or being honest. He can read people relatively well, but she’s a born wolf, and they’re much more difficult. He still doesn’t know how old any of the Hales actually are because they’re too good at hiding their tells.
“Just my aunt, and I didn’t give her your name,” she tells him, looking sincere but that doesn’t mean anything. “I said I’d speak with you first because you didn’t know about me.”
“I’m disappointed in myself for not noticing,” he mutters, dragging his fingers through his hair. “My sister is going to find this hilarious.”
“Is she a banshee?” Susie asks, looking scared for a moment when he stares at her. “I tried to talk to you the other day about this, when you were alone in the lounge, but I heard you talking when I went to open the door, so I left. I just heard you say something about a banshee, so I jumped to conclusions when you later mentioned talking to your sister.”
Stiles grimaces. “I thought I saw the doorknob move, but I didn’t realize I was talking so openly.”
“You were quiet, but I just have strong hearing,” Susie tells him, still looking concerned.
As she talks, he thinks about Lydia and the warning she gave him. “I don’t suppose you’re a white wolf, are you?”
Susie blinks before she snorts. “Even if I could full shift, which I can’t, my name is Susanna Guadalupe Mendoza, and I have dark black hair. I don’t really see my fur being white. My aunt says that hair color most often translates to fur color in her experience.”
“Huh. I’ve only met one person who could achieve a full shift. His hair was dark, and his fur was black, so there could be some merit to that theory,” he says, thinking about Derek’s wolf form.
“That was an odd question,” she points out. “Does it matter if I’m unable to shift into a white wolf?”
“No, I was just curious,” he says smoothly, relieved that he learned how to lie to werewolves back when he was a teenager. “So what’s this favor you have, Susie?”
“My aunt is buying a new house for our pack,” she says. “She needs someone with magic to put up protective wards. It needs to be someone she trusts, and she doesn’t like the known magic users. Their magic isn’t the same kind like in our world, you know? Warlocks and sorcerers and witches aren’t able to tap into the same power that one of our kind can.”
“Your aunt hasn’t even met me, so why would she trust me?” Stiles frowns. “There isn’t anyone else you know to ask?”
“I trust you. You’re an amazing doctor, and I’ve noticed how you look out for the women and children who come in with abusive men in their lives,” she says, shrugging. “If I trust you and your magic to keep my pack safe, my alpha trusts you. We don’t know any magic users personally other than you, Dr. S.”
“You can call me Stiles,” he say, rubbing his temples. “No one at work wants to be so informal, but I always make the offer anyway. Your favor is for me to put up wards around your new pack house. Is that all?”
“It’s more than enough, isn’t it?” She eats her last bite of her sandwich. “I know that you’ll feel inclined to say no because you’re private, and I now realize that you’re here to be lost and probably don’t like that you’ve been found at all, but will you at least consider it? I’d feel better knowing our wards are created by someone whose magic is strong and ruthless.”
He blinks at that comment, and she taps her nose. “Alright. I’ll think about it, Susie, but I’m not agreeing or making any promises to become involved.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, Dr. S,” she says, ignoring his offer to call him Stiles just like everyone else in their department. “I didn’t mean to overhear any of your private conversation, but I stopped listening as soon as I realized you were on a call.”
“You haven’t made me uncomfortable,” he says honestly. “I’m more surprised than anything. I thought you might have been experiencing difficulties at work and wanted a neutral party to give an opinion or something similar to that. I certainly wasn’t expecting a reveal.”
“I’m glad because you really are a great doctor to work with,” she says. “We all love working your rotation because you respect your nurses.”
“My childhood best friend’s mom is a nurse, so I know that all of you really run things,” he says with a snort before he gives her a look. “If you have such a high opinion of me, why do you still act nervous and scared when we’re on shift together?”
“Well, honestly, the pastries you keep buying to try to bribe me into liking you are really good,” she admits, laughing when he blinks at her. “We work hard, and they’re always a nice pick me up in the middle of a shift.”
“That’s very sneaky of you, Nurse Mendoza,” he says, having to laugh. He sees her yawn and glances at the time on his phone. It’s almost nine. “Was there anything else?”
“I think that covers everything, Dr. S. I appreciate you thinking about it,” she says, getting to her feet and taking her trash. “I’ll see you tonight, sir.”
“Sir?” He makes a face as she laughs and walks away. That’s even worse than Dr. Stilinski. Once she’s gone, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages, surprised not to see one from Bucky checking on him.
He opens their thread and sends a quick note. Wrapped up and about to head out. Still alive and not kidnapped.
While he eats the last bit of his second muffin, he thinks about Susie’s favor and the realization that he’s been around the supernatural since she started working there. No, even earlier because she said there are others from their world working at the hospital. It makes sense, of course, and he’s honestly never done any type of magic to identify supernaturals in his vicinity. He just assumed he’s know somehow, that his magic would recognize them or something.
There’s movement at the chair Susie was sitting in, and he looks up as he says, “Did you forget—“ When his gaze meets sunglasses instead of Susie’s brown eyes, he trails off. “Really?”
“Waiting outside for a text isn’t the same thing as chaperoning,” Bucky says in a stubborn tone.
“Isn’t it?” He arches a brow. “Were you staring theough the window like a creeper?”
“If I had been, you wouldn’t have noticed. You seemed to be having an animated conversation with that nurse,” Bucky says. “And, no, that’s not jealousy because she definitely isn’t your type. It’s me worrying that you put yourself in an easy firing line if someone wanted to snipe you because of this little chat that you decided to have with a coworker you barely know.”
“Where would they be, Bucky? I think even people in this city would notice a sniper loitering outside the coffee shop,” he says, rolling his eyes. He actually doesn’t think that Bucky is jealous, he’s just being an overprotective worrywart because of Wash freaking Stiles out a bit.
“They didn’t pay any attention to me, and I was sitting in the chair out there armed. Also, the primary place would be the roof of the oil lube place across the street because it has a direct view of this table,” Bucky says in a competent tone that Stiles needs to ignore because he finds that a rather sexy quality. “You’d have been hit before you could even use your magic.”
“Susie isn’t working with Hydra,” he says confidently. “Wait, did you actually go on the roof across the street to test that theory because you sounded way too self-assured.”
Bucky shrugs. “I had to do something to kill time during that never ending discussion,” he admits. “I realized pretty soon that she wasn’t Hydra, but she still carried herself a certain way that was suspicious, so I wanted to wait. Besides, you’re here.”
“Don’t you ever have to work, Bucky?” Stiles teases, kicking Bucky’s leg under the table. “You’re always off work when I am.”
“Not always,” Bucky says. “But my work is often done at night, and I sleep as little as you usually do, so our schedules overlap really well.”
“I’m actually planning to run an errand before I sleep today,” he says. “It involves magic stuff.”
“Oh?” Bucky looks curious. “Do you have to do it alone or can I tag along? I’ll buy you lunch after.”
“Food is almost as effective as daring me to do something,” Stiles points out, watching Bucky smile smugly because he knows that already. “Fine, you can go, but only because I trust you, and I also know you’re good at keeping secrets.”
“I’m very good at that,” Bucky agrees, following him outside. Once they’re out on the sidewalk, he grabs Stiles’ hand and tugs him closer, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Good morning, Doc.”
“Good morning, Buck,” he murmurs before stealing a second kiss for himself. He knows it's dangerous to keep getting closer to Bucky, to indulge in this ‘friends who kiss’ relationship, but he’s tired of always making sacrifices because it’s practical and just wants to be selfish for however long this lasts. He can deal with the heartbreak when that happens.
“Where are we going?” Bucky asks when the second kiss ends, and Stiles takes his hand. “And what am I going to keep secret now?”
“We’re going to a bakery,” Stiles says, opening his phone and finding the photo of the sourdough bread label that he took yesterday. “And the secret involves what we’ll be seeing there.”
“Mysterious,” Bucky says, bumping against him as they walk. “So what did that nurse want to discuss? You seemed pretty into the conversation when I looked in. Something about the hospital?”
“She actually asked me for a favor,” he says, waving down a taxi. He looks at Bucky. “This place is far enough that I’d rather just drive than deal with the LIRR.”
“We’re going to Long Island?” Bucky asks. “For a bakery ? You know there are dozens of the places around here, don’t you?”
“You don’t have to come,” Stiles says, giving him a look.
“Long Island is just super,” Bucky deadpans, getting into the taxi. Stiles laughs and gets in after him.
“Where to?” The taxi driver asks.
Stiles gives him the address to the Bewitching Bakery in Glen Cove before settling back in his seat. He focuses for a moment and then says, “Hey, the music isn’t good.”
“Stiles,” Bucky hisses, giving him a look.
The taxi driver doesn’t even notice he spoke, which means his magic worked. “I was testing to make sure he can’t hear us,” he tells Bucky. “I willed a sort of silencing charm, I guess you’d call it. I realized that I need to be more careful about how public my private conversations can be sometimes because you never know who might be listening.”
“One, that’s really cool,” Bucky says honestly. “Two, who is listening to your private conversations?”
“Alright. So, when I mentioned you needing to keep a secret, I mean it,” he says, giving Bucky a look. “It’s like how when we talked about the magic users that you’re familiar with, and I explained that my magic is different and from a place that’s kept private from the general public.”
Bucky nods. “I remember. I’ll keep anything you tell me secret, Doc. You know that.”
“Well, the other was my secret to share, and this isn’t, so it’s a little different,” he says. “Susie asked to see me because she realized I was magic. Her kind of magic.”
“What do you mean? Did she catch you using it?” Bucky asks. “Is she the one listening to your private conversations?”
“Take a breath, Bucky.” Stiles smiles. “You sound like me right now. I must be rubbing off on you.”
“I could make a very dirty remark that would have made Dugan proud, but I’m going to be mature right now;” Bucky says with a smirk. He must see Stiles’ confusion because he explains, “Dugan’s a guy I was in the army with. We called him Dum Dum, and he had a filthy mouth when he wanted to.”
“Dum Dum is not a very nice nickname,” he points out, “but thank you for being mature. Now, where were we?”
“Do I need to go kill this nurse?” Bucky asks bluntly. “That’s all I really need to know about her.”
“No, she’s not a risk,” Stiles says. “What I meant earlier when I said her kind of magic is that I’m a supernatural kind of magic. It varies from the known magic users because the supernatural world is still pretty well hidden other than various misrepresentations in pop culture, many of which were probably created by the supernaturals themselves to deliberately mislead people.”
“Supernatural, huh?” Bucky asks, looking at him intently. “Like hobbits and elves?”
“Think less Tolkien and more Stoker,” Stiles says, watching Bucky’s eyebrows go up. “Yes, vampires are real. A werewolf I knew told me they weren’t, but I met some, so he just didn’t know any.”
“Okay,” Bucky says slowly, blinking as he absorbs this information. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I mean, I’ve met aliens and a talking raccoon and a human who basically turns into a damn ant. Why shouldn’t werewolves be real?”
“Wait, a talking raccoon?” Stiles stares at him. “You win. Werewolves aren’t cool or unusual at all.”
“He was a dick,” Bucky mutters. “Don’t look so impressed.”
“Dude, what even is your life?” Stiles asks, shaking his head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m really glad that you accepted my magic so easily, but, compared to dickhead raccoons who can talk, I guess it takes a lot to phaze you.”
“Your magic is part of you. Of course, I accept it,” Bucky says, looking at him. “I don’t care what kind of magic it is because it’s yours. The damn raccoon really wasn’t impressive, so can we forget about him and go back to werewolves and vampires?”
“Susie is a beta werewolf,” Stiles says, just blurting it out because who needs finesse and tact. Not him, apparently. “I mean, that’s how she realized I had magic. Her aunt is the alpha, which is the leader of their pack, and her aunt only trusts magic users like them.”
Bucky listens and frowns. “Like you,” he says. “They want something from you, don’t they? Something to do with your magic.”
“Not just a pretty face,” Stiles says, reaching down to take Bucky’s right hand and squeeze. “Susie asked if I’d be willing to place protection wards around their new pack house. I’m actually really great with wards, so I’ll probably agree because it’ll be easy and will also mean an alpha owes me a favor.”
“If you do it, can I be there?” Bucky asks. “I’ve seen how you get after using a lot of magic, and I don’t want you vulnerable to a bunch of werewolves you don’t even know.”
Stiles nods. “Yes, I’d like to have someone I trust there because it also makes it easier to ground myself,” he says. “Lydia was with me when I cast the wards on my apartment, and it went very smoothly.”
“Good. I suspect that werewolves might not appreciate me creeping around, as you so rudely call it,” Bucky says pointedly. “This bakery we’re going all the way to Long Island for, what does it have to do with your magic?”
“I need some magical ingredients to cast the wards,” he explains. “My magic tingles whenever I’m around labels from this bakery, which means it’s, like, an invitation for other magic users like us. A Druid once told me about secret magic shops that are often around the big cities, so I recognized it when I felt it.”
“I think you’re just trying to break my brain, Doc,” Bucky says. “It’s like you’re talking a whole other language that I don’t understand.”
“Like how I feel when you start giving detailed breakdowns of Hydra and military stuff,” Stiles reminds him. “You always dumb it down to a level I understand, so now I can return the favor. Not that I’m involved with the supernatural world anymore anyway. I’ll probably do these wards, but that’s it. The supernatural isn’t part of my life anymore.”
“Are you sure about that? It seems to be natural for you,” Bucky says, giving him a look. “Knowing you, I’d wager it’s dangerous and life threatening.
“It normally isn’t,” he says honestly. “It was in my home town for a few years, but it’s quiet there now. The local pack keeps the town safe these days. I would have asked my dad to move years ago if it was still a cluster fuck of epic proportions.”
“You’ve already decided to do those wards, haven’t you? Why else would we be spending the morning going to your magical bakery ingredient place?” Bucky strokes his thumb over Stiles’ palm.
“I promised Lydia when I first moved here that I’d try not rush into anything without giving myself time to really think about it,” Stiles says, thinking about her theory that the white wolf represents the supernatural world and that somehow shielding him from Hydra. “Other than attractive strangers accosting me at IHOP and throwing me off my guard, I try not to break that promise.”
“Asking for your help isn’t the same thing as accosting, Doc,” Bucky points out. “And your guard wasn’t thrown off at all. I’m glad you’re not making a decision without thinking about it, though. It seems like a serious thing to ask someone.”
“I’ve been planning to check out this bakery for a few weeks. It’s too tempting not to check it out. I first noticed it the night you were at my apartment with the knife wound,” he admits. “The bodega just started carrying their products a couple of months ago, but that’s the first time I’d bought something.”
“I’m glad I can check it out with you,” Bucky says, smiling slightly as he squeezes Stiles’ hand.
“We’ve got about a fifteen minute drive,” Stiles says. “Plenty of time for you to tell me more about that talking raccoon.” He laughs when Bucky groans. “Blame yourself, Buck. You’re the one who brought him up, and you know how curious I am. You have to tell me why he was a dick because I think there must be a good story to explain that opinion.”