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Since they spent most of Saturday and Sunday hanging around their hotel room, they’ve decided to make an effort to actually do something away from the room on Monday since they’re planning to fly back to New York in the morning. There’s a small cafe around the corner from their hotel that serves breakfast, so they decide to start their day with food. The reviews were average, so Stiles has set his expectations low.
The breakfast menu is limited, which could mean they do a few things very well or it could mean they’re barely able to make those dishes at all. He orders French toast and bacon because he thinks those are relatively difficult to screw up. Bucky goes with pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
“What’s that look for, Doc?” Bucky asks, arching his brow. “It’s your ‘I can’t believe he just did that’ look, but I haven’t done anything to warrant it.”
“You just ordered eggs at a dodgy cafe with mediocre reviews,” Stiles says, totally judging him. “Eggs can be messed up much easier than most things.”
“I was in Europe during the war when everything was rationed,” Bucky murmurs, talking low so no one can overhear them. “I think I can handle eating some bad eggs. Besides, they could do worse to the bacon.”
“Maybe so, but it’s bacon. As long as it isn’t raw, it’s edible,” he says, unable to debate the point that badly made eggs would likely be better than anything Bucky ate in the forties overseas.
Bucky grins, looking boyish for a moment. “Have I mentioned how fantastic it is that I can casually talk about my life now because you know everything about my past?”
“I wouldn’t say everything, but I’m glad you can speak more freely now,” Stiles says, returning the smile. “It’s like a weight lifted off your shoulders, isn’t it? Just having someone who knows and is still here is just remarkable.”
“You’re right. I didn’t realize how much the secrets were weighing me down, but I get it now because I actually feel hopeful for the first time in a long while,” he admits. “But that might also be due to the fact that I’m officially a boyfriend. Never been one of those before.”
“I have been, but neither time lasted very long,” Stiles says honestly. “Malia was a couple of months during a really bad time, and Lydia was a little longer before we realized we work so much better as best friends who don’t fuck.”
“Considering your dad ended up marrying her mom, it worked out well in the end,” Bucky says with a smirk m. “Stepsiblings who have sex just sounds incredibly awkward. Besides, I don’t see the right kind of chemistry between you two in photos.”
“Really? Because the sex was actually pretty good. It was just better overall for us to go back to being friends without additional complications because we realized I wasn’t aging normally and our friendship was priority for both of us over anything else.” Stiles shrugs when Bucky looks at him. “I’m just saying, you don’t need to be jealous because that ship sailed years ago, but we didn’t work out as a couple for reasons other than sexual chemistry.”
“I’m not jealous,” Bucky denies, making a face when Stiles simply looks at him. “Maybe a little, but you’d feel the same way if I was best friends with someone I used to be romantic with.”
“I’m sure I would,” he agrees easily. “I can be a possessive little shit when it comes to things I consider mine, and, unfortunately, that includes people, too. I’m not really the jealous type when it comes to relationships because there has to be trust there for it to work at all, but I don’t like sharing people with others who don’t value them.”
“I’m trying to figure out how not wanting to share isn’t jealousy on some level,” Bucky says, staring at him. “I guess possessiveness doesn’t necessarily mean jealousy, but either one can lead to problems when they’re extreme.”
Stiles shrugs. “I got better at sharing when Scott started having monthly urges that expanded our friends group from two to many. Doesn’t mean I like having someone around who doesn’t deserve the time and attention of people I care about.”
“I guess not making sense is part of being human,” Bucky decides, smiling slightly. “It goes back to what we were talking about the other day with irrational fears. Not everything has to make sense. If we were perfect, we’d be boring.”
“Actually, we wouldn’t be human,” Stiles points out. “Perfection isn’t really attainable. It’s something we can strive for, sure, but anyone who claims to be perfect is full of shit.”
“How did we even end up on this topic?” Bucky asks, still smiling that slight smile that makes Stiles feels like he’s being adored or some romantic crap like that. It’s makes him feel flustered but also special in a good way.
“How do we end up talking about anything, Buck?” He smiles. “We start off on one thing and then it meanders, usually because my brain is zig zagging, and you’re far too indulgent and humor me by following along with it the whole way.”
“Am I supposed to ignore what you’re saying and refuse to vary our conversation?” Bucky snorts. “You know I can’t do that, Doc. Besides, I veer, too. I also happen to really enjoy our random meandering conversations.”
“I like that you keep up with me,” Stiles admits. “Most of the time, you’re there with me. The few times you aren’t are when I go into some kind of pop culture or event from the last twenty to thirty years, which makes a lot more sense now.”
“You didn’t even know Sinatra, so don’t be too judgemental,” Bucky says, pursing his lips. “He was more popular than that Britney dame you were arguing with Julian about. I looked her up and saw a ranking that said Sinatra would easily be top 15 of all time, and your girl was in the 30s.”
“Oh, you want to get this debate going again?” Stiles slowly smiles. “Your boy died before my girl was even out of her single digits, and she’s already in the 30s for whatever ranking list you found. He’s had decades to reach the top 15. Let’s see where she is when she’s been making music as long as Sinatra.”
“She sings a song about being hit multiple times,” Bucky says dryly. “I think Sinatra is safe from her cultural impact if that’s the extent of her lyrical abilities.”
“Dude, if we want to get writing, neither of them are going to rate because I’ve played Sinatra now, and he didn’t write his own stuff,” Stiles says, “and Britney co-wrote some of hers, but she’s no Taylor Swift.”
The waiter shows ups with two plates of food, putting them on the table before hurrying off. Bucky looks at his plate and makes a face. “Okay, I get what you mean about the eggs,” he says, putting his fork in the runny eggs that are supposed to be scrambled.
“There’s a reason most cooking competitions use eggs as the main challenge for weeding out bad chefs,” he says, taking a bite of the overly crispy bacon that’s still edible. “But please do admit that I was right because I love to hear that.”
“Yo, my man.” The greeting interrupts whatever likely rude comment that Bucky’s planning to say. They both look up to see Sam approaching their table. “Don’t you two look cozy and adorable. Oh, bacon.”
“Touch it and you get a fork in your hand, Sam,” Bucky threatens, narrowing his eyes and watching Sam pull his hand back before he can grab a slice of bacon. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just out for a stroll and noticed you,” Sam says, holding a black sack up to show he’s been shopping. “Figured I’d stop by and catch up. Make sure everything’s going well. I see the good doctor is still here.”
As he’s gesturing, Stiles notices writing on his t-shirt and has to read it. He snorts when he sees that it says I’m a pilot. To save time let’s just assume that I’m never wrong. It's too accurate, in his opinion, and he wonders if there’s one for surgeons because they’re even worse than pilots.
“Just sit down,” Bucky grumbles, kicking out the chair towards Sam. “You’re going to draw attention.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Stiles asks curiously, pinning Sam with an intense stare. “Do I strike you as someone who’s superficial and cowardly?”
“Aw man, you’ve already got him staring just like you do, Bucky,” Sam groans. “And I don’t know you, Stilinski, but you strike me as someone who’s a huge pain in the—“
“Sam,” Bucky says firmly, the table moving slightly as he obviously kicks Sam under the table. “What are you really doing here? Don’t give me that look. Doc’s not going to be telling anyone what you say.”
“Classified means classified, asshole.” Sam leans forward and lowers his voice. “Fine. To be as vague as possible, Sharon has intel about the P.B.,” he says. “We need to head to the island in a few hours if we want to arrive in time to have a chance at catching them in the act.”
Bucky frowns at Sam before glancing at Stiles then back again. “I’ve got plans, Sam. Suits and dinner tonight. Official like. Can’t Sharon go with you?”
Stiles sees Sam make a face like he’s just eaten a lemon, and he can’t help speaking up. “Whoever this Sharon is, Sam doesn’t trust her completely. He wants you there to have his back in case things go south,” he says, arching a brow when Sam blinks at him. “What? Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m not also a genius. And excellent at reading people.”
“You think Sharon’s playing both sides?” Bucky asks, trusting Stiles’ analysis without hesitation. If they weren’t sitting with a table between them, he’d have to kiss him for being so accepting.
“I didn’t say anything like that,” Sam says, giving Stiles an appraising look before looking at Bucky. “Why, do you think she is?”
“No idea,” he says, shrugging. “I just don’t trust anyone because it’s smarter that way. You, Doc, Nat, Stark, a couple of others. That’s the entire list. Sharon’s not on it because she hasn’t earned a spot.”
“Steve trusted her, but that was a different time, and I wasn’t overly fond of her even then,” Sam admits. “Something now just seems off to me, like she’s playing a part.”
“Do you think the tip is valid then?” Bucky asks. “If I give up my first official date, it better be legit.”
“It could be, so we need to check it out. I already made alternate arrangements to get Stilinski back to New York safely,” Sam says, looking momentarily regretful. “I didn’t plan on ruining your date night, but this is high priority, Bucky.”
“I'm actually an adult who can get myself back to New York,” Stiles points out. He catches Bucky’s gaze. “This is work, Buck. There’s going to be times when I have to cancel our plans for work, so I totally understand. You need to go and follow up because this sounds important. We can do suits and dinner one night when we’re back in the city.”
“How long is this going to take, Sam?” Bucky asks, focusing on Sam. “Ballpark idea. A day or two? A week? I’ve got someone I have to meet on Thanksgiving that's more important than classified stuff.”
When he realizes that Bucky’s talking about Lydia, he can’t help smiling. Someone more important than work is high praise, and Lydia definitely deserves it. Besides, it means Bucky’s taking this relationship as seriously as he says, and isn’t letting some petty jealousy about Lydia affect him.
“If it’s smooth, you could be back in the city by Wednesday. Definitely before Thanksgiving,” Sam says giving Bucky a curious look. “It’s one of those ‘the tip’s right or it’s wrong’ kind of cases, so we’ll know pretty quickly. I just want backup in case it’s right.”
“And I’m the only one you can ask?” Bucky asks, obviously starting to waver. “Nat usually likes the cases with traveling involved.”
“Nat’s working on another case,” Sam murmurs, glancing at Stiles again before looking at Bucky. “Man, I get that you’re involved with the good doctor here, but the word classified is used for a reason.”
“Hey, I can go to the bathroom to give you two time to chat about classified stuff,” Stiles volunteers, getting to his feet. He walks over and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t be stubborn. Work is important, and we can have an official date later this week. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The bathroom is unisex; it just has a toilet and sink. He doesn’t need to pee, but the bathroom is the only place he could offer to go kill a few minutes. While he’s disappointed that their last day in DC is getting cut short, he knows that Bucky needs to go with Sam. He doesn’t personally care about superheroes, but he knows what they do is important even if he sometimes disagrees with their reckless endangerment of civilians. And Bucky is part of a superhero team that apparently includes Captain America and Black Widow as well as Iron Man.
When he sees that five minutes has passed, he washes his hands and goes back out to the table. Sam and Bucky are talking quietly, their heads bent together as they focus on something on Sam’s phone. Bucky looks up when Stiles sits down, an apologetic look on his face.
“When do you need to leave?” he asks, reaching for his last slice of bacon. “I can get myself back home, so don’t worry about that.”
“Sam already made arrangements for you; he found someone to fly you and Stark’s plane back to the city,” Bucky says, making a face. “I’m sorry, Doc.”
“No reason to be,” he says honestly. “Trust me, I’ll be doing the same thing whenever I pick up an extra shift or get called in early because some stupid villain or another causes trouble that includes mass injuries. Work is important to both of us.”
“I remember you bitching about being forced to take days off,” Bucky says with a slight smile. “I knew going into this that you’re a workaholic. I’m not that bad, but Sam needs backup.”
“And something tells me that Sam isn’t the type to ask for anything unless it’s important,” Stiles says, glancing at Sam. “I’ve got one question for you.”
Sam leans back and nods. “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Oh, I don’t need an answer,” he says, knowing he’ll be able to read the answer in Sam’s facial expression well enough.
“You said you have a question for me,” Sam reminds him, looking at him thoughtfully.
“Do you approve of what Steve did by disappearing and basically dumping the problems of our current times on you?” he asks bluntly. Sam blinks at him, surprise followed by confusion crossing his face.
“Doesn’t matter if I approve or not,” he finally says. “It happened, and we keep moving forward. You know, Steve did a lot of good things for this world, so I don’t blame him for trying to live a life outside of this circus.”
“It matters because you’re going to be covering Bucky for whatever classified scheme you’ve got going on, and I wanted to know if I could trust you to keep him safe,” Stiles says simply. He knows that Bucky trusts Sam, but Stiles doesn’t make anything about the man to have a trust level. “You’re loyal but not self-centered, and you have compassion. Solid qualities, which means Bucky’s got support.”
“Where did you find this guy again?” Sam mutters, giving Stiles an odd look as he leans towards Bucky.
“IHOP,” Bucky says solemnly, winking at Stiles when Sam shakes his head.
“We should probably head back to the room so we can pack and check out,” Stiles suggests. He makes eye contact with the waiter and motions for their ticket. Looking at Bucky, he frowns in thought. “Is this trip you’re taking going to be dangerous?”
Bucky considers the question for a moment, which Stiles appreciates, before he says, “I doubt it. I figure this will be a waste of time, but one of these times eventually won’t be.”
The waiter arrives with their ticket, which Sam grabs before Stiles has the opportunity. “I’ll take care of this,” Sam says, putting his credit card with the bill. “Since I had to break things up early, it’s the least I can do.”
“So generous with a business credit card,” Bucky says with a snort. “We’ll go get packed. Where do you want us to meet you?”
“I’ll wait in the lobby of your hotel,” Sam tells them. “We’ll head to the airport when you’re ready to go.”
Bucky and Stiles get up and leave the cafe. When they get outside, he puts his coat on and wraps his scarf twice around his neck. Glancing over, he sees Bucky looking thoughtful. “Penny for your thoughts,” Stiles says, bumping his hip against Bucky’s.
“Not sure they’re worth that much,” he admits, reaching over to take Stiles’ left hand. “This isn’t how I planned for our Monday to go. We just agreed to be boyfriends yesterday, and here I am already canceling plans.”
“Not very good boyfriend behavior,” Stiles teases. “Stop frowning or you’ll get wrinkles. It’s fine, Buck. I’ve got plenty to get caught up on around my apartment to keep me occupied tonight, and I know you’re doing something important even if it doesn’t lead to capturing anyone yet.”
“Wrinkles can help make handsome men look distinguished,” Bucky points out. “I’m just wondering how to balance what I want to do, which is being with you, with what I need to do, which is a chaotic work schedule.”
“There’s nothing wrong with chaos,” Stiles says, squeezing his hand. “I thrive when I’m immersed in it, which might be why I can adapt to changes pretty easily. We both have jobs that are a little crazy and time consuming. Mine just has set hours, and yours occasionally requires long-distance travel.”
The lobby is bustling with activity when they reach their hotel. People are checking out and catching shuttles to the airport or enjoying a continental breakfast that doesn’t look very appealing when he peers into the windows of the dining area while waiting on the elevator.
“What’s your schedule like this week?” Bucky asks, wrinkling his nose as he tries to remember. “Three on is, what, Tuesday to Thursday? So you’re off Friday and Saturday.”
“Yeah, I’m off Friday and Saturday then I work Sunday to Tuesday before I’m off for four days for the holiday and Lydia’s visit,” he says. “She flies in early Wednesday morning, and she’ll be flying back to Boston on Sunday, so I didn’t bother requesting that night off.”
“So we can do an official date this weekend,” Bucky says, looking over at him as they enter their hotel room. “I was really looking forward to seeing you in that suit, Doc.”
“I don’t remember being asked out on a date for this weekend,” Stiles says, making a thoughtful noise. “I hope that I haven’t already made plans to spend my evenings washing my hair by the time someone finally asks me.”
“Real funny,” Bucky says, tugging him closer. He leans down and kisses him slowly, taking his time as the kiss deepens. When they pull apart, he smiles. “Do you want to go out on an official date this Saturday night, Doc?”
“I think that our casual unofficial dates have been pretty awesome,” Stiles says. “But, sure, I suppose I can pencil you into my extremely busy social calendar.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one then?” Bucky teases, leaning down for another kiss as his phone starts to ring. He groans and gets his phone, rolling his eyes when he sees who’s calling. “What do you want, birdbrain? We’re packing.” He smirks at whatever Sam is saying. “No, we aren’t wasting time making out. Who do you think we are? Teenagers who can’t resist each other? We’re professionals, Sam. I’m offended by you obviously having such a low opinion of me.”
Stiles bites his lip to keep from laughing as he gets his suitcase and starts packing the few items that were left out. He is definitely not someone who unpacks into drawers or closets in a hotel, so it makes packing easy. It’s gathering up dirty clothes and bathroom toiletries then zipping the bag.
“Sam’s downstairs waiting,” Bucky says, getting his own suitcase and opening it. “He wanted to remind me that we’re on a timeline so I didn’t spend time up here petting with you. Personally, I think he’s just annoyed that he’s single and doesn’t have anyone to make out with.”
“It’s possible,” Stiles agrees. “Being single when your friends are dating can suck. Been there, some that plenty of times. When do you think you’ll really be back?”
“Honestly? I’d be shocked if I’m not home by Wednesday,” Bucky says, looking at him seriously. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a tip that led nowhere. The flight there and back will probably take longer than the time we’re actually on land.”
“That sounds like such a waste of time and energy,” Stiles admits. “I’m guessing it’s a major enough bad guy that it warrants Captain America to be involved personally; otherwise, you could delegate it to some other support people who live wherever you’re going.”
“It’s definitely not some minor villain,” Bucky says. “I’m not able to discuss it any further, unfortunately, but there’s a reason it’s at our level.”
“Our level, huh?” Stiles arches a brow. “I still think Sexy Sniper has the perfect ring to it, and you can’t tell me you don’t have some kind of pseudonym because you hang out with superheroes for fun.”
“Nah, I’m just Bucky,” he says, shrugging before he zips his bag. “Winter Soldier is what they used to call me, but that hasn’t been my name in a few years now. Do you have everything packed, Doc?”
After doing a quick scan of the room to make sure he hasn’t missed anything, Stiles nods. “I’m good to go, Buck. I seriously don’t need to be flown back on Stark’s plane, though. I can grab a cheap commercial flight or take Amtrak.”
“The plane has to get returned anyway, Stiles,” he says patiently, using Stiles’ name to point out that he’s being stubborn. It’s something he’s noticed that Bucky does sometimes. “Do you want to waste the fuel and the pilot’s time by having them fly an empty plane?”
“It’s going to be awkward on Stark’s plane by myself,” Stiles mutters. “I know it’s only a couple of hours, but I don’t even know the dude.”
“It’ll be a fast flight,” Bucky tells him, opening the hotel room door. “Only you would suggest commercial over private, Doc. Enjoy the lack of crying babies and stinky passengers.”
“You’ve convinced me,” he says, making a face. “I’ll enjoy being a fancy jet setter for a couple of hours. All you had to say was the magic words ‘crying babies’, and I realized the error of my ways.”
“It’s definitely the best way to fly, not that I’m some fancy jet setter,” Bucky says. The elevator doors open, and they enter the lobby.
A quick scan locates Sam sitting by the sliding glass doors. He’s got a baseball hat and sunglasses on, which seems to be the ‘I’m not a superhero incognito at all’ costume of choice for these guys.
“You look suspicious instead of nondescript,” Stiles says when he walks over to Sam. “Great job if you’re trying to draw unwelcome attention, though. The front desk woman is eyeballing you like she either recognizes you or is curious about why you’re lurking around in a lobby of a hotel you’re not registered with.”
“Maybe she’s just used to dealing with assholes and can’t believe there’s an actual gentleman in her hotel,” Sam suggests, getting to his feet.
“It’s probably the red cap. A black guy in a MAGA hat is rather suspicious,” Stiles decides. He bites his lip to keep from smirking when Sam pulls the hat off and looks at it.
“Oh, ha fucking ha,” Sam says dryly, putting the black hat back on his head. “Where’s Bucky?”
“Checking out of the room,” Stiles says, nodding towards the other counter. “We’re leaving a day early, so he’s asking how they’ll be charging him.”
“They’d better not charge for tonight. It’s only nine, so plenty of time for them to cancel,” Sam says, frowning in that direction. With Sam standing this close, Stiles realizes he’s several inches taller than he is—like Isaac levels of height. He hates being 5’10” sometimes.
“I’m sure Bucky can charm them into it,” he says confidently. He shrugs when Sam gives him a disbelieving look. “He can be very persuasive.”
“He’s a gruff smartass who constantly stares,” Sam mutters. “Nothing charming about that.”
Bucky joins them, looking smug as he playfully knocks his arm against Stiles’ arm. “They’re not charging for me tonight,” he says. “I canceled early enough they won’t process the full reservation.”
“Great. I’m expecting a very nice meal on Saturday then,” Stiles teases, taking Bucky’s hand as they follow Sam outside. Bucky just laughs.
Sam whistles down a taxi, and they exchange very idle chit chat with the driver on the way to the airport. When they get to the hangar, Sam pays the driver and then faces them.
“Alright. The plane going to Manhattan is gassed and ready to go,” Sam says. “The plane we’re taking to the island is getting prepped for flight. Should be ready to go soon.”
“Guess that means I should board,” Stiles says, shifting his bag from one shoulder to the other.
“I’ll walk you to the plane,” Bucky says, dropping his bag by Sam’s feet. “I’ll be right back, Sam.”
“Oh, wait,” Sam says, smirking as he shakes the black bag he’s been carrying all morning. “I got Stilinski a memento of the weekend.”
“I enjoy getting presents from strange men,” Stiles says, catching the black bag when Sam throws it at him. Bucky snorts a laugh beside him, obviously recognizing the quote from their Clue viewing.
“You’re obviously uncultured, so I had to do my part to help make you cool enough for Bucky,” Sam says smugly.
Stiles opens the bag and pulls out a navy blue t-shirt with Sam on it wearing his Captain America costume. He arches a brow and looks at Sam, who is smirking even wider now.
“How did you know that I needed something special to reach the mildew on the time in the very corner of my shower?” he asks with a big smile. “Thanks, Sammy. This is going to work perfectly to finally get it clean.”
“You’ve got yourself a real comedian here, Bucky,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “You’d better not use my face to scrub your shower, Stilinski.”
“He’s hilarious,” Bucky deadpans, guiding Stiles away from Sam and over to the plane. When they drop by the stairs, he gives Stiles a look. “Your shower doesn’t have tile, Doc.”
“Sam will never know that, though,” he points out helpfully. “Instead, he’ll wonder if I’m a big enough asshole to actually turn his fanboy shirt into a cleaning rag.”
“Which you totally are,” Bucky says, “but you’ll resist doing it because Sam’s my friend, sort of, and will likely be around occasionally because I share a house with him.”
“He’s surprisingly easy to provoke for a therapist and superhero,” Stiles says with a grin. “Anyway, I don’t like that ‘I want to analyze your brain’ look that he gets sometimes when he doesn’t think I notice.”
“He hasn’t realized that you’re always aware and vigilant,” Bucky says. “He gives me the therapist look sometimes, but he’s respectful about it and backs off when he realizes I’m not interested in some tough love.”
“Be careful on your trip,” Stiles tells him. He leans in for a kiss, knowing it’ll be the last one for a few days. “Text me when you land so I know you made it there safely, okay?”
“You too,” Bucky says, resting his forehead against Stiles’ forehead and sighing. “Keep an eye on Wash. I’ll come see you when I get back to the city.”
“I’m always careful, Buck,” he says, kissing him again before he turns and goes up the stairs. “See you in a few days.”
“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, Doc,” Bucky says, blowing him a kiss when he turns to give him an unimpressed look.
Stiles enters the plane and, yep, it’s as awkward as he’s been expecting. He puts his bag in the empty seat behind him and goes to the front to knock on the cockpit door. It opens, and an older guy is standing there.
“Are you ready to leave, Sir?” The pilot asks.
“First, what’s your name?” Stiles asks, knowing he can’t call the guy the pilot in his head the entire flight back home. “And second, it’s Stiles, not sir.”
“George Griffin,” George says. “I’ve worked for Stark Industries for 24 years, so you’re in safe hands for this flight.”
“Nice to meet you, George. I’m ready to go whenever you are,” Stiles says, shaking his hand before he goes back and sits down.
There isn’t a flight attendant or safety demonstration, so he just fastens his seatbelt and opens a game on his phone to play during takeoff. George isn’t as smooth as Sam was, not that he’s going to contribute to the inflated ego of a superhero pilot, but soon they’re flying at the right altitude so he can loosen his seatbelt.
“Yeah, this is boring,” he mutters, flipping through his phone until he finds his kindle app. It’s been a while since he’s read something other than textbooks and medical journals, so maybe there’s a good mystery to fill the time.
He’s so engrossed in reading book summaries that he jumps and almost drops his phone when someone slides into the seat beside him. He blinks as he takes in a familiar face with unfamiliar hair. Red hair that’s darker than Lydia’s.
“Sasha? I mean, it’s Nat, isn’t it?” He looks around the plane and notices the curtain in the back still moving. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed a lift back to Manhattan, and Tony told me there was a plane scheduled to return this morning,” she says, arching a brow. “I didn’t realize you were also getting a lift back until I heard you outside.”
“So you decided to hide back there instead of making yourself known why?” he asks, tapping his fingers against his thigh. He feels a tension in his shoulders that hasn’t been there recently, and he’s immediately suspicious that Sam somehow wanted to get Bucky away from him and leave him for Nat to what? Interrogate? Attempt to kill?
He really doesn’t want to have to subdue and potentially kill a superhero—no matter how shady—that Bucky considers one of the few members of his inner circle.
“Because you’re some kind of wizard, and I haven’t had an opportunity to speak with you since you came home unexpectedly that night,” she says, giving him an indecipherable look. “I have questions, Stiles.”
“Dude, I’m not a wizard,” he says, rolling his eyes even as his heart is racing. “A few years ago, I’d have totally made a Harry Potter joke, but fuck transphobes and knowingly supporting terfs.”
“I was locked in your apartment by something powerful enough that it prevented me from opening the front door or breaking the windows,” Nat says simply, still watching him closely. “I hit the glass with a baseball bat, and it didn’t even chip.”
“It’s an old building. Maybe they made glass stronger back in the sixties,” he suggests, looking at her as if he’s confused by what she’s saying. “I wouldn’t know since I haven’t tried to break my window since moving in.”
“You also managed to keep up with me in a fight,” she continues, still studying him in a way that reminds him of Lydia looking at complex mathematical equations. It’s a ‘I know this is difficult and I’m going to solve it so there’ look.
“I was lucky,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t avoid her stare because he knows doing so would be suspicious and basically confirm that he’s hiding something. “Anyway, you were kicking my ass when Bucky showed up, so I don’t know about keeping up with you.”
“James believes that you are trustworthy and honorable,” she tells him. “However, I’m not sure if his judgment is impaired because of his attraction to you, especially now that he’s developing feelings.”
“Is there a point to this, Sasha?” he asks, giving her a look. “I assume you’re posturing for some specific reason.”
“How did you trap me if it wasn’t magic?” she asks. “You can call me Nat, not Sasha. James seems to be very enamored with you, and I promised someone that I’d keep an eye on him, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, I’m sure.”
“Thrilling,” he deadpans, glancing at his phone and seeing that there’s still a lot of flight ahead of them. “I don’t know why you had difficulty leaving my apartment. I assumed you were hiding out planning to rob me, so I fought back as if my life was on the line because I thought it was that night. I guess my adrenaline gave me a boost to keep up with you for a bit.”
She moves quickly, but he’s almost been expecting it. He grabs her wrist tightly when she aims a blade right at his face, the sharp metal close enough that his breath is making spots on it. A triumphant look crosses her face as he tightens his grip.
“Just adrenaline,” she repeats slowly. “Then explain this, Stiles. A doctor wouldn’t be able to respond that quickly and efficiently.”
“I’m no longer amused,” he says, resisting the urge to break her wrist because the darkness inside wants to feast on her pain and lick the taste of her suffering out of the air. “Bucky considers you to be someone worth keeping alive. I’d hate for you to prove him wrong.”
“James is drawn to dangerous things,” Nat says, looking over Stiles’ face. “Wild and reckless things that cannot be easily controlled yet seem to gravitate towards him. Don’t forget that he’s a dangerous thing, too.”
“He doesn’t mind getting his fingers burned sometimes,” Stiles says, taking the knife out of her hand before letting her wrist go. “He’s mine, and I don’t share, Nat.”
Nat scoffs. “I don’t want him like that. We had one night together after we both almost died,” she says, rubbing her wrist and looking at the bruises that are starting to form. “You’re playing some dangerous games, and I wanted to know if you could protect yourself so that he’s not distracted trying to keep you safe if everything goes to hell.”
“No, you’re trying to push buttons to test some theory that you have,” he corrects, examining her knife. It’s incredibly sharp and has a notch that’s perfect for hunting.
“I wouldn’t have stabbed you,” she says, giving him a look. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d have stopped myself. So you aren’t a wizard, then what are you?”
“I’m a doctor,” he says sweetly. “Why were you in DC? Sam said you’re working on something. That’s why he asked Bucky to go on the super secret classified mission with him.”
She studies him closely before she says, “I was looking into a company that donated a large sum to Dr. Wash’s department for research that doesn’t appear in any of the resources that the hospital utilizes.”
He’s surprised that she actually answered him, but maybe she knows that he’s involved with the Hydra crap because of her research into Wash. There’s no way Bucky shared how he was able to capture Stasia because he’s been careful about keeping Stiles out of things.
“There are places where you can buy random magical artifacts,” he says, playing with the truth, “so I got something to help when I realized how common robberies are in my building. I didn’t have any idea if it would work or not.”
“The research was about infectious viral agents,” she says, turning towards him slightly. “The company doesn’t exist. I wasn’t able to find any legitimate information about it. The address is an office building with businesses that rent monthly.”
“My father is a sheriff, and I grew up learning self-defense and how to shoot guns safely,” he says. “I’ve been in several difficult situations working in emergency med, so I don’t get flustered.”
She snorts. “You’re keeping secrets, Stiles, but James knows them, doesn’t he? It’s why he trusts you so implicitly,” she says. “I don’t need to know your secrets nor do you need to know mine for us to work together.”
“What do you mean by work together?” he asks suspiciously. “Does Bucky know you’re here?”
“You’re involved somehow with Wash and the case we’re working on,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “If Bucky’s into you, you aren’t some quiet docile doctor who avoids putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ve seen Wash trying to get you alone, so working together is logical. James doesn’t know that I’m here because I didn’t realize he was here.”
“If I consider this, I have one question for you,” he says slowly. “What do you think about Steve running away back in time and leaving everything for others to clean up?”
“It doesn’t make sense and seems out of character for the man I knew and fought with,” she says, keeping her tone neutral. “He did leave us with a mess, but we can handle it. James is working on wiping the red from his ledger, which is something I understand, and Steve never could. Why is that your question?”
“Because I think his choice makes him a selfish prick and not some hopelessly romantic hero,” he says. “If I’m going to work with someone, I want to know the type of character they have, and that seems to be a good question to find that out.”
She purses her lips and looks reluctantly curious. “What did it tell you about me?”
“That you don’t need no man,” he tells her, seeing a glimpse of the woman he met when she called herself Sasha when she fights back a smile. “Seriously, though, it tells me that you’re observant, inquisitive, and supportive of people you have a connection with. You’re a realist who gets the job done. Am I right?”
“Your Behavior Analysis elective your junior year at NYU is being put to good use, Stiles,” she says. “Now, let’s refocus on our joint problem and see how well we work together. The name of the business led nowhere, it was vague and generic, but the names of the donors were more interesting because they did have some flags show up.”
“So, is this how we’re spending the flight back to the city?” he asks, arching his brow when she shrugs and smiles slyly. He nods and slowly returns her smile. “Sounds good to me. So what was the name of the company? Maybe I can find a connection you missed. I mean, I used to be very good at research.”