Work Text:
Since getting back to the city, Stiles has been staying busy. Yesterday, he and Nat actually ended up getting lunch together after they landed so they could finish their discussion about Hydra and Wash. He’s not sure why she suddenly decided to confide in him regarding the details of the case, but he knows there’s got to be a reason. Bucky said that Nat usually keeps an eye on her own interests even when being a superhero, so there’s definitely a method to her madness.
It doesn’t really matter to him because he’s glad to have more information. There’s no way that he’s going to create complications in his relationship with Bucky by asking for details, especially when he knows it’s classified information. Nat didn’t seem to care about that part, but she’s also an actual superhero, so maybe the rules don’t apply to her.
Since Stiles really did have things to do around his apartment, he hasn’t been able to give Nat’s mystery much attention yet. He did a customary search for the name, came up with nothing, and he also checked into the two people she was able to track down. A deeper search is in the future, but he prefers to let something percolate in his brain when he’s solving a puzzle, so he’s thinking about it in between patients tonight.
This particular Tuesday evening in the emergency department is proving to be chaotic as hell. The full moon is supposed to be Friday, but it’s already causing craziness. It’s funny that the full moon affects his work life like it used to affect his real life back in high school. Every medical professional knows that the full moon makes things nuts, though.
Tonight is no exception.
It’s almost two, and this is the first chance he’s had to stop and actually think about something non-work related. There was a petty disagreement between two rival gangs at a nearby PS ballpark that was allegedly broken into, according to the cops who were waiting for two of the victims to get out of surgery so they could be arrested. There was a robbery at a beauty supply store that resulted in the would-be robber getting a bullet in the face. Multiple assault cases due to drunken shenanigans. Three different car accidents with injuries. And, of course, no night shift is complete without someone getting something stuck in a body orifice that it should never be near.
Alicia actually went outside three hours into their shift to check the sky because she’s convinced it’s full early, but it wasn’t, which means the week could just get worse. He’s disappointed that he isn’t scheduled to work Friday night, but that’s not something he’s going to tell any of his staff because they’d probably want to smack him for even thinking that way.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Alicia mutters, shaking her head as she joins him at the nurses station. “Why did that young man even think that was a good idea?”
“I don’t think he was thinking,” Stiles points out, keeping his voice low because he doesn’t want anyone to overhear them discussing a patient’s medical details. He’s not about to risk a substantial fine and HIPAA violation because someone nearby is being nosy.
“He certainly didn’t fall and impale himself on a baseball by accident.” Alicia sniffs like she’s offended at the man coming up with such a weak excuse.
“Ours is not to reason why or how,” Stiles says solemnly. “Ours is to remove said baseball from said anal cavity.” He leans in closer. “I’d wager it’s a dare combined with excessive drinking and possibly some drug use. There are three very concerned people in the waiting room, one of whom is wearing a ‘groom to be’ sash.”
“Of course, you had time to scope out the lobby,” Alicia says. “I’ve been too busy working to look at the visitors.”
“Because nurses are the backbone of the department, and us doctors are useless,” Stiles says, smiling slightly when she rolls her eyes.
“Not all doctors are useless, and not all nurses are amazing,” Susie says as she walks up and puts a stack of empty urine cups on the counter. “I’m ready to ring Luke’s neck tonight. He keeps disappearing whenever there’s a messy patient, and I’m stuck having to clean up. I understand that he and Lily are bickering, but this is work. I don’t give a crap about his personal life if it means I’m doing all the grunt work while he texts her all night.”
“Oh God,” Stiles groans. “Not trouble in paradise again. Last time, he was hangdog mopey for three days. Remember that, Leesh? The damn couch.”
“That was before your time, Susie,” Alicia says, looking at her. “Shortly after he started working here, they couldn’t agree on which couch to buy, and it was ridiculous. He ended up giving in and agreeing to her choice, and they haven’t fought since because he just lets her have her way.”
“Well, they’re fighting about something because he’s grumpy and checking his text messages,” Susie says. “If it didn’t mean him shirking his work load, I’d be glad because they’re too romantic and happy all the time to be human.”
Stiles snorts. “It does get sickening,” he agrees. “If I ever get that saptastic, you have my permission to smack me. I don’t want to be a LucasandLily with my relationship.”
Alicia lowers her clipboard and stares at him. “Record scratch, back up, Stilinski. With your what now?”
“Looks like we have someone in number nine,” Stiles says, looking at the rooming list. Before he can take a step away, Susie grabs the collar of his lab coat.
“Alicia asked you a question, Dr. S.,” Susie says. “What exactly happened during your days off?”
“You’re both so nosy and meddling,” he mutters, rolling his eyes when two sets of eyes just blink at him. He’s not sure how he’s still susceptible to stares after spending so much time with Bucky the last few weeks, but he knows he’s going to cave. “Fine, I spent it away from the city with someone who has officially become my boyfriend. Can we get back to work now?”
“Touchy touchy,” Susie teases, her lips curled up into a pleased smile. “I knew you were seeing someone, but I didn’t realize it was serious.”
“I feel like my baby grinch of the ED has finally grown his heart two sizes larger,” Alicia says, pretending that she’s wiping her eyes as she sniffles. “Molly’s going to be so happy for you, too. Not to mention no longer having to compete with you for my hand.”
“My new man might be into polyamory,” Stiles tells her. “Molly needs to keep her fighting spirit or I’ll steal you away from her.”
“It lacks a real threat when you’re saying my new man with heart eyes,” Susie points out, quickly moving behind Alicia when he starts to hit her arm with his folder. He lowers his hand when Alicia gives him a look.
“When do we get to meet him?” Alicia asks. “I haven’t had a chance to interrogate a prospective partner since my boy, Calvin, started dating a couple of years ago.”
“There isn’t going to be any interrogation of anyone,” Stiles says firmly. “I’m not Calvin.”
“No, you’re not. He’s a good boy who knows it’s a mama’s right to question girlfriends or boyfriends,” Alicia says seriously. “Molly’s always asking me about my work son, so there will be an interrogation to make sure this man is good enough for you and has only the best intentions in mind.”
“I don’t think Dr. S. wants his intentions to be pure and innocent, Leesh,” Susie says, snickering when Stiles glares at her. “Let the man sow his oats.”
“Uh, I think I’ve missed something,” Lucas says, walking over to them with a tablet in his hand. “Who’s sowing their oats?”
“Just ignore these gossipy ladies,” Stiles says, taking the tablet from him. “What have we got?”
“Dr. S. has a new boyfriend, so Alicia and I are making sure he knows he has our support,” Susie says solemnly.
“So you’re teasing him something fierce and trying to make him regret ever mentioning his private life in your vicinity,” Lucas summarizes with a grin. “Don’t worry, Dr. S., I’ll save you from them. We guys have to stick together.”
“Yeah, because white men are so oppressed,” Alicia deadpans. She looks at Stiles. “I expect you to hold to your end of our agreement next month.”
“We’ll see,” Stiles says, knowing that he won’t be introducing Bucky to anyone he works with anytime soon. If he does reach that point, it’s likely going to be these three and Trini, who usually works opposite Luke. “What have we got in nine, Lucas?”
“A sous chef at that little Japanese place a few blocks away chopped up her hand,” Lucas says. “It doesn’t look too bad, but there’s one cut on the heel of her hand that probably needs stitches.”
“Lacerations are always fun,” he says, knowing the patient is probably in pain. As a doctor, he doesn’t like it when patients aren’t feeling well. But his inner darkness feeds on the pain, so he can’t help being excited.
With everything he’s had to feast on tonight, he’s going to have so much energy stored that he’s going to need to let some out. The guy with the baseball was in a lot of pain, more than one of the gang members with a gunshot wound. He looks over at Lucas and notices that he doesn’t have his usual perky attitude, so Susie’s right.
“Are you doing okay, Lucas?” he asks casually, reading through the patient’s chart. “You seem tired tonight.”
“I’m alright, Dr. S,” Lucas says, shrugging. “Lily had to go out of town for a work conference this week, and she’s not back until the weekend. I think we might need to get a dog because the apartment is just too quiet when she’s gone.”
“Not fighting then?” He scrolls through the patient information, but he keeps an eye on Lucas. Susie mentioned a fight, which means she must have smelled something that made her think of fighting. Missing someone shouldn’t have that same smell.
Lucas looks at him and sighs. “That obvious, huh? Before she left, we had a fight about when we’re going to start a family. I’m ready to start anytime, but she wants to wait indefinitely.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a discussion you should have had before getting married,” he says, glad that he and Bucky don’t have to worry about any of that. Neither of them can get pregnant, and the whole living a potentially long lifespan means adoption isn’t possible, either. Who wants to outlive their kids?
“We did, but she’s not interested in it yet,” Lucas says. “I’ll get over it because she’s the one who has to carry the baby and give birth, so she should be the one to decide, but I’m still frustrated about it.”
“Cheer up, buttercup,” Stiles says with a smile. “Maybe try a dog first and see if you’re even ready to be parents because a kid is way more of a commitment than a pet. I’m going to need a suture kit, if you can get that ready while I speak with the patient.”
“On it, Dr. S.,” Lucas says. “And I think I’ll compromise with Lily by suggesting a dog.”
The patient in nine is easily handled, but it takes some time because there are multiple lacerations that need to be cleaned and stitched. Stiles makes a mental note to not eat at that Japanese place because the knife work must be dangerous. By the time he finishes in nine, Alicia is waiting with a domestic violence case in five, and Susie has a likely pneumonia patient in two.
The pneumonia is first because he just needs to review vitals and listen to the lungs before he can order a variety of tests to help diagnose. The DV has a sprained wrist and multiple contusions on the face. It doesn’t matter that the victim and perpetrator are both men, it’s still a DV that doesn’t look like it’s going to result in charges. It gives him a chance to let out a little energy when he goes over the discharge paperwork in depth with the schwarmy bastard who beat his partner.
When they leave, the perpetrator looks pale and terrified, so hopefully Stiles’ little lesson does some good. It’s fifteen minutes after four when Alicia nudges him towards the main hospital.
“Go get some food. Your boyfriend didn’t send you lunch today, so I have to make sure you eat,” she says, hitting him on the butt with a file folder. “You haven’t even stopped to pee tonight, doctor. Take a half hour. The other doctors have.”
“Molly’s right,” he points out. “You are a work mom.” He signs out of the laptop and salutes her. “But I’ll go because I don’t need you telling Jay that I skipped lunch if you do ever meet him.”
Alicia nods. “Good. You should listen to your elders,” she says. “His name is Jay, huh? I bet he’s handsome.”
“It’s a nickname,” Stiles says, not mentioning that it’s one he just made up tonight because he doesn’t want to use Bucky’s real name or anything with people who might be way more familiar with superheroes than he happens to be. “And he’s gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, the prettiest blue eyes, and a wit that can keep up with me.”
“Get out of here,” Alicia says, laughing. “We don’t need you drooling on the desk. Go daydream about your man away from work for enough time to get some rest and eat.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “I’m going. You’re the one who mentioned my man, troublemaker.”
He leaves the floor before she can swat him again. The cafeteria is quiet, so he gets a coffee and a breakfast sandwich that might be from the day before judging from its appearance. He nukes it in the microwave because at least it’ll be hot. When it’s done, he takes his stuff and goes to a table in the back away from anyone else.
His phone doesn’t have the best connection in the basement where the cafeteria is located, but he’s able to open his web browser to start doing more research on Erra Lagren Inc. to see if he notices any kind of patterns. When he finishes the awful breakfast sandwich, he grabs his coffee and heads back upstairs. There are benches around the lobby and a small atrium area that he can sit on and get a better connection than this.
Avoiding the main entrance and pathway to the elevators for inpatient, he finds a bench in the hallway by the indoor plants. The name of the company who donated money to Dr. Wash’s research and the hospital was called Erra Lagren Incorporated. A quick search finds nothing of substance.
There are a couple of web pages that are obviously planted in case someone at the hospital gets curious, but nothing substantial to indicate it’s a real company. The few things mentioned are so basic and generic that he’s pretty confident they’re fake. He decides to take each word to see if there’s something to the name possibly.
Erra comes up as a metalcore band from Alabama that’s apparently important enough to be the first dozen or so hits in Google. He takes the time to review the information because who knows? Maybe a band from Alabama is somehow involved with Hydra. Stranger things have happened.
When he opens their Wikipedia article, he frowns and sits straighter as he reads the origin of the band’s name. Erra after the Akkadian god of war and plague. War and plague. Moving from the browser to his photos, he finds the images he took of the autopsy photos for Jose. The skin on his face gone, bones showing through. Plague.
There’s a spark in his gut that he used to feel whenever he was researching for Scott or Derek. The one that tells him he’s onto something. His fingers itch as he wishes he had a murder board so he could make notes on something besides his stupid notes app, but murder boards are a thing is the past. He’s a doctor now and not involved with mysteries anymore. This is just an exception because he got pulled into it.
When he’s scrolling through the photos of Jose, he hears someone saying his name. It startles him because he’s been keeping an eye on his surroundings but the voice is loud and somewhat manic. His thumb twitches and sends his photo app a full screen down. To pictures that he doesn’t recognize. He looks up because that’s more important, but he needs to look at that photos later because he’s trying to remember when he took a photo of a business card.
“Doctor Stilinski, I’ve been looking for you,” Richie says, walking down the hall at a fast pace. He’s leaning slightly, his fingers on his right hand moving even faster as he appears to be counting. There’s a gleam in his eyes that Stiles recognizes from some of his hallucinatory episodes. “You weren’t at any of the parks for over a week. I thought maybe they got you.”
“Hi Richie,” Stiles says, putting his phone in his pocket. “Are you feeling alright tonight?”
Richie looks around before leaning close. He smells like peppermint, body odor, and onions. “They’re following me, doc. They know that I know and they don’t want me to know.”
“Who’s following you, Richie?” he asks patiently. Paranoid delusions and hallucinations are part of Richie’s mental health file, but he’s been doing really well without having any episodes lately. It looks like tonight’s a slip for him. “Do you want to come to the emergency department with me? We can see about getting you a room and something warmer to wear.”
“Five,” Richie says, holding up his hand. “It’s five, Dr. S. This ain’t one of my crazy spells. I’m not going there. They might be there waiting for me. They’re everywhere now, trying to catch me.”
Stiles looks at Richie’s hand then back at him. “Give me a minute, Richie,” he says, pulling out his apscom. He calls Alicia. “Hey, something came up, so I’m going to be off the floor working on it. I’m asking Dr. Ford to cover for me since she owes me one.”
After Alicia acknowledges, he calls Ford. Marianne agrees promptly because he’s covered for her a dozen times just this year. Once that’s done, he takes Richie’s arm and walks with him towards the end of the hall away from the bustle of activity, sending out his magic as he walks.
Cameras see nothing. We aren’t here. No trace at all.
After what happened with Marino, he isn’t taking any chances because Stasia knew they’d connected somehow.
“Who is trying to catch you, Richie?” he asks once he feels they’re safe. He looks into Richie’s eyes and doesn’t see madness. He just sees fear and energy. “What do you know that you shouldn’t?”
“I looked into that place, the one Jose called,” Richie says, talking in a hushed whisper. “Clinical studies for healthy people, no one sick allowed. Young and healthy only need apply. A dozen gone, Dr. S. That’s how many people have applied and disappeared in the last two months. I found the flier and took it.”
Richie opens his coat, the scarf that Stiles gave him several weeks ago still in good condition albeit dirty. He pulls a bright orange square from his pocket and neatly unfolds it before handing it to Stiles.
“Seeking applicants for a clinical research study, must be aged 16-40 with no chronic conditions or drug history. Paid in cash per session. Call now for details,” he reads, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise when he gets to the very bottom. Study sponsored by Erra Lagren Inc.
“They have people everywhere, doc,” Richie says, looking around again as some of his paranoia begins to surface. Not the dangerous kind; the kind that Stiles has from PTSD from basically fighting a war. “Someone at the shelter saw me take that flier. They must have told someone because I noticed I was being followed last week. Went to Harlem to find you, to show you the flier, since you’d mentioned maybe being there, but they said you didn’t make it out. Been hiding since, asking the streets to let me know when they saw you again.”
Harlem. That was when he canceled his shift so he could talk to Bucky about his past. He knows he should feel guilty about not being there when Richie needed him, but he doesn’t because it was a pivotal moment in his personal life that he can’t regret. He’s here now, and Richie’s okay, so that’s what’s important.
“Yeah, I didn’t make my volunteer shift that day,” he says. “My schedule has been a little sporadic lately. Tonight’s my first night back after a few days off.”
“Yeah, Benny came in earlier and saw you. He told Mickey who told Joanie who let Bebe know who told me,” Richie tells him. “I was relieved because I thought they’d found you and knew you had those photos of Jose. You can’t trust the walls anywhere, doc. They have ears and eyes.”
Thinking about Dr. Wash, he slowly nods. “Yeah, I know, Richie. The people responsible for this have deep pockets and strong connections,” he says. “What do you know?”
Richie counts his fingers and looks down the hall. “I had someone call the number and arrange an appointment, Dr. S. I followed them and saw the people running the research study. I know where they were operating out of, and I saw someone signing paperwork that I haven’t seen since.”
“Jesus,” Stiles says, running his fingers through his hair. “What about your guy? He got out okay?
“My friend got freaked out by them, so he faked a panic attack and got the hell out of there, and I put him on a bus to Philly to visit his mom to keep him safe. Didn’t want him to end up like Jose.” Richie sways a little. “I’ve been hiding since. Waiting to hear that you were back. I think these people are what killed Jose. Dunno if we can prove it, wouldn’t go to the cops anyway because I saw cops there, two in uniform laughing with one of them, but they’re wrong there. It don’t smell right, you know?”
“I know,” Stiles says. Bucky’s still on the island, or possibly on a flight back by now, and he doesn’t know how to contact Nat. She mentioned knowing how to find him, and he stupidly didn’t think about getting her number because there was so much else on his mind at the time.
This is serious, though. He needs help with this because Richie has to be moved to somewhere safe because he knows too much. Some people would write him off as having another mental episode because it sounds outlandish and unreal, but Stiles knows he’s telling the truth and that means he’s seen some of the people involved in this Hydra scheme.
With a groan, he pulls out his wallet and gets a card out of it. Turning the card over, he dials the number that’s handwritten on the back. “I’m going to ask for help from someone we can trust, Richie. We’re going to make sure that you’re safe,” he says.
The phone answers on the sixth ring. “Roadkill Cafe. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.” There’s a muffled noise and someone hissing, “Tony” in the background followed by a huge sigh. “You’ve reached Tony Stark at, fuck, it’s five o’clock, Pepper. Whoever the hell it is can deal with a bad joke.”
“It’s Dr. Stilinski,” Stiles says, clearing his throat. “You gave me this number in case I ever needed a lifeline. Well, Mr. Stark, I need one.”
There’s silence for a moment before Stark says, “Mieczyslaw Jacek Stilinski, I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. I figured you’d have to be bleeding out, almost dead, and possibly missing a kidney before you ever lowered yourself to call me for assistance.”
“If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t for me, so you’re still probably right,” he says, keeping an eye on Richie. “Are you aware of the case that Nat’s working on? The many headed creature local branch?”
“Wait. Why is she Nat, and I’m Mr. Stark? I’m way cooler than she is,” Stark mutters. He hums suddenly. “How do you know what case Nat is working on, Dr. Stilinski who isn’t part of our classified task force?”
“I took a lucky guess,” he deadpans. “A friend of mine has information that could be very important for that case, but he’s being followed by some of the many heads involved.”
“Give me a moment, kid. Jarvis, play the theme song for Mission: Impossible,” Stark says, talking to someone who is apparently in his bedroom with him and his wife. “Alright, now where were we? I needed the appropriate soundtrack for this conversation because I feel like I’ve woken up in some kind of spy film. The others never let me play with them anymore, not since I died the last time and almost didn’t come back to life.”
“I need to know if you were serious about sending a lifeline. If so, I’m calling it in for someone else,” he says, not bothering to keep his frustration out of his tone. “If you were full of shit, I’d like for you to call Nat and ask her to call me.”
“Nat this and Nat that. Does JimmyB need to be jealous?” Stark asks, a slight threatening tone in his voice. “Nat needs her beauty sleep. You woke me up, so you get to deal with me. Pepper says so, and we all do what Pep says.” He waits a moment. “Alright, kid. The wife’s gone to check on our daughter, so tell me what we’re doing. Do I get to break in somewhere? Oh, can I use a zip line? The children never let me have any fun unless I’m flying around in one of my suits.”
“I just need someone to keep my friend safe until he can tell Nat what he knows,” Stiles says, rubbing his temple. If this is what he was like back when he was on Adderall then he suddenly understands why he was single for so long.
“So he can die after talking to Nat?” Stark asks. “That’s harsh, especially for a doctor.”
“What? No, he needs to stay alive,” Stiles says. “I meant he needs protection until the threat is gone.”
“Where’s he at now?” Stark asks. Stiles can hear him swallowing something. “Pepper brought me my pills. My brain is super active all of the time, but the only time I have trouble controlling it is when I first wake up. The pills supposedly help but they don’t really do much.”
“I used to have ADHD, so I can understand it completely,” he reluctantly admits. “So, Richie. He needs a place to stay that’s protected. If people are following him, he isn’t safe on the streets. He’s in this mess because I didn’t realize how complicated it was going to end up. You wanted me to need help, so here it is.”
“Pshaw. You’re helping someone else, kid. That’s not fair because I can’t gloat about it and brag to JimmyB about being useful,” Stark says, sounding disappointed. “I told you I’d give you a lifeline; I didn’t specify that it had to be for you. I just assumed it would be.”
“You know what they say about people who make assumptions, Stark,” Stiles points out. “You can gloat about saving Richie because Nat’s going to love the information he’s obtained for us.”
“Where’s JimmyB?” Stark asks. “Does he know there’s an us when it comes to you and Nat and Hydra mysteries? Something tells me he doesn’t.”
“He and Sam are on an island looking for something classified,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes before looking back at Richie, who’s now sitting on the bench counting fingers on both hands. “I plan to tell him about Nat when he gets home.”
“You slipped, kid,” Stark says with a triumphant tone. “You were already mixed up with Hydra mysteries somehow because you don’t have to tell him about that part.”
“I’m not telling him because I’m keeping secrets from him,” Stiles deadpans, lying because Stark is a smug little bastard even when he’s wrong. He doesn’t want to deal with a Stark who is actually right.
“Oh, damn. Happy’s already there so we’ll have to finish this fascinating conversation some other time, kid,” Stark says. “Give your friend to Happy. He’ll bring him to me, and we’ll make sure he’s kept safe.”
“Who or what is Happy?” Stiles asks, looking down the hallway to see if there’s some kind of weird ninja clown or something coming because who the hell knows when it comes to Stark.
“Not me, doctor,” Richie says, shaking his head. “Can’t get that kid out of my head, the one who was signing the paperwork that I didn’t get out of there. Probably already dead, just like Jose.”
“Head of Security and one of my best friends,” Stark says. “Only person I trust to take care of this issue who’s available right now. Can’t come myself because I’m Tony Stark, and we want to avoid attention. It follows me everywhere I go.”
“Your head of security is named Happy?” Stiles keeps an eye on the hall. “Quick question, Stark. Steve Rogers. What do you think about him leaving all the problems for others to fix?”
“Yes, my head of security is named Happy,” Stark says. “I named him myself when he was just a chauffeur. As for Cap, he’s a selfish bastard who made the easy choice because he was too scared to actually live . Why the fuck do you want to talk about him? I’ve got way better things to do, like watching paint dry.”
“I think I see your Happy guy,” Stiles says. “Thanks, Stark.” He ends the call before he has to admit that Stark’s answer is the closest to his own reaction to what Bucky shared about Steve.
“Who’s coming, Dr. S.?” Richie asks, staring down the hall like he’s about to bolt.
“He’s safe,” Stiles says, reaching over and squeezing Richie’s shoulder. “He’s going to take you somewhere that they can’t get you, Richie. He’ll protect you from the people watching you.”
“Doctor Stiles Stilinski?” The guy is probably in his late forties, stocky and normal looking. “I’m Harold Hogan. Tony sent me.”
“Thanks for coming,” Stiles says, shaking his hand. “Richie, this is Harold. He’s going to take you somewhere safe.”
“Where are you going, Dr.S.?” Richie asks. “They follow me, they’ll follow you if they find you. Fliers and photos and faces. Can he be trusted?”
“Yes, he can be trusted,” Stiles says, looking intently into Richie’s eyes. “You’re going to be safe. No one who wishes you any harm is going to be able to find you. My friend, Nat, is going to come see you. You can tell her anything that you’d tell me. Remember our coping strategies.”
“One to five,” Richie says, wiggling his fingers. “You’re coming to see me, too. Somewhere safe where they can’t find me.”
“I will,” Stiles promises. His skin is still tingling from the magic he just used to protect Richie. He’s never tried this kind of spell before, not directly on someone else, but it zapped some of his excess power from the chaos and pain tonight. He looks at Hogan. “If he starts to panic, remind him of the coping strategy.”
“He’ll be safe,” Hogan says. “We’ll make sure he gets warm clothes and food, too.”
“Not charity,” Stiles warns. “He’s too proud for that. Gifts are from friends. He wants to work for anything else.”
“I’m sure we can find work for him,” Hogan says. “Hey, Richie. Are you ready to go? I promised the doctor here that we’d get you somewhere warm and safe.”
“Be careful, doc,” Richie says, leaning in close. “Remember what I told you. The walls have ears and eyes. Don’t trust easily.”
“I’ll remember,” he says, squeezing Richie’s shoulder before he walks down the hall with Hogan. Once they’re out of sight, Stiles sits on the bench and puts his head in his hands.
The sound of his phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts. A quick glance shows him Dreamboat. Answering it, he asks, “How did you know that I was thinking about you?”
“I told you that I had Stiles Skills,” Bucky says, sounding tired. “I’m going to be boarding a plane here soon, so I wanted to let you know that I’ll be home later today.”
“It was a bust?” he asks, tucking the flier from Richie into his wallet beside Stark’s business card. “That sucks. Sorry, Buck.”
“Yeah, nothing at all happened,” he grumbles. “Complete waste of time. If we hadn’t come, it might have been something, though. That’s what Sam says, at least. You doing okay?”
“It’s been a long night,” he says, sighing. “I’ll catch you up on everything when you get home.”
“Like why Stark randomly sent me a text telling me that he’s way cooler than Nat, and I should make sure that my man, his words, knows it,” Bucky says, laughing softly when Stiles groans.
“Superheroes are fucking crazy, dude,” he mutters. “I don’t know how you can stand being around them, especially working with them.”
“You thrive on the chaos of the emergency department, and I do well working with crazy superheroes,” Bucky says. “We all have our talents, Doc.”
“I miss your stupid face,” Stiles says, smiling slightly when he hears Bucky laugh. “And your lips.”
“Stop that,” Bucky says. “Sam’s giving me a stink eye because apparently I’m getting a horny look on my face that he doesn’t want to see.”
“Fine. I’ll stop,” Stiles says, “but only because I need to get back to the floor and not because I care if Sam is exposed to your horny side.”
“Duly noted,” Bucky says. “Work is more important than Sam’s sensibilities. I’ll see you soon, Doc, and you can enjoy my lips for as long as you want.”
“Be careful, Buck. I’ll see you later,” he says, waiting until he hears the call end before putting his phone back into his pocket. Straightening his shoulders, he focuses and gets back into work mode. He’s for two more hours before he can get out of here and check-in with Richie.