Work Text:
Every time Dr. Doom gets a hard-on for the Fantastic Four, it usually results in property destruction and civilian injuries. This Thursday night is no different. As Stiles walks from one exam room to another, he wishes Mister Fantastic would just take one for the team and finally fuck Doom so these attention seeking behaviors could stop. This is why he has such little use for villains and most superheroes. They don’t care who gets hurt in their random squabbles.
“If you aren’t careful, your face is going to freeze that way, Dr. S.,” Susie says, passing him the tablet with the patient’s information brought up.
“Stoically handsome and eternally youthful?” he asks, arching a brow at her. He hears the teenage patient smother a giggle.
“I’d rather not give a comparison in front of a patient,” Susie says smoothly, her gaze indicating that her comparison would not be favorable.
“Alright, Amanda, we’re going to look over the area that was impacted by the falling concrete,” he says, smiling at the patient. She’s a freshman in college, according to her nervous rambling when he first entered the room, and this is her first experience with being collateral damage to a villain.
“You can call me Mandy, doctor,” she says, her face flushing slightly as she looks at him.
“Of course,” he says, easing her hospital down up so he can see the bruising and scrapes that are on her left thigh.
He examines the area, asking Susie for various supplies, and he orders an x-ray because he wants to make sure what he’s feeling isn’t a break in her femur. Once he finishes, Susie steps in and finishes the basic wound care. He removes his gloves and types into her chart.
“Okay, Mandy. I’m slightly concerned about your femur,” he explains. “Whenever I touch right here—“ he touches the spot and watches her wince “—it feels like there could be a fracture. I’ve placed an order for an x-ray, and someone will be coming soon to take you for that. Once I see the film, I’ll know if there’s an issue requiring orthopedic intervention or if it’s just swelling from the impact.”
“I just wait here and someone will come get me?” she asks, looking at her leg and poking it. “There’s pain, doctor, but wouldn’t I know if it’s broken?”
“You’ve just been in a very high adrenaline situation, so your body is still riding high on the endorphins. Sometimes, that can mask pain that you’ll feel once the shock of the situation has worn off,” he tells her. “Susie is going to give you 800 milligrams of Ibuprofen to help with the pain from the bruising.”
“Thanks, doctor,” she says, smiling at him. Susie steps between them to hand over the medication, and he leaves the room.
When he reaches the nurses’ station, he sees Lucas handing Alicia a dollar bill. “Playing the lottery?” he asks. “Just remember your favorite resident and his awful student loan debt if you win.”
“Nah, Dr. S.,” Alicia says. “Lucas didn’t think Miss College Girl was going to make eyes at you, so I bet him a dollar.”
“Alicia, betting is against company policy,” he says, before looking at Lucas. “And, what, you don’t think I’m attractive enough to get college girls to flirt with me? Way to be a bro, Luke.”
Lucas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We all know you’re the hottest doctor in the department. Why do you think the nurse trainees are always leaving through our exit whenever you’re working?” Lucas asks. “I just figured a potentially crushed leg would override the flirting instinct.”
Stiles snorts. “I actually didn’t pay much attention to her, so you might have given over that dollar needlessly,” he says. “And don’t let Lewis hear that he isn’t the hottest doctor or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m completely heterosexual without any leanings, but even I can tell that you’re good looking,” Lucas says. “If Lewis thinks his fake tan and dye job are handsome, he’s living in a fantasy world.”
“He is,” Stiles points out. “One set in the seventies where he’s the star of his own medical drama series.”
“He totally thinks he’s Tom Selleck circa Magnum PI era,” Alicia says, clicking her tongue. “That man ain’t even Tommy in that new cop show of his cause he’s aged like fine wine.”
“Oh, so I get it now,” Stiles teases. “I need to grow out a mustache for you to get Molly to agree to share, is that it?” He winks at Lucas, who quickly hides his face with a file folder as his shoulders shake.
“Hey, Dr. S., what was with the scowling?” Susie asks as she joins them. “You looked pissed.”
“Oh, there was scowling? I didn’t think that expression could even cross that lips these days considering all the smiling I’ve seen since last night,” Alicia says, giving him a look that lets him know he’s goofed up by teasing her about Tom Selleck. “Thought we were going to have to tie his foot down with bedsheets last night the way he was floating around here with the dopey grin on his face,” she adds to Susie, who was off last night.
“Hey, isn’t there work to do?” he asks, wagging his finger at them. “Enough gossiping.”
“ Oh, ” Susie says, slowly grinning. “There is something he’s trying to hide. Imagine that, Leesh. Silly Dr. S. thinks he can keep something from his favorite team of nurses.”
“I don’t see Harper or Obadiah,” he deadpans, making a show of looking around for two other nurses.
“Ladies, leave Dr. S. alone,” Lucas scolds. “He’s new to the initial bloom at the start of a relationship.”
“You’re no longer on my Christmas list, Luke,” he says, wadding up a Post It note and throwing it at him. “There’s nothing blooming, either.”
Susie snorts. “I wasn’t even here last night, and I know that’s BS,” she tells him. She taps her nose like she’s scratching it and arches a brow. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or man? Or them?”
“His last name is Business,” Stiles confides, lowering his voice. “First name is Noneya.”
“Ow. That was a one out of ten, Stilinski. My five year old has better comebacks,” Alicia says, shaking her head. “But I’m guessing it’s a man, Susie, since he said his.”
“Duh. Of course, it’s a man,” Lucas says. “Didn’t you see the beard burn last night, Leesh? Lily always complains whenever I don’t shave every night because it can rough up her skin.”
“That isn’t inclusive, Lucas,” Susie points out. “Some non-binary people and women have beards. Dr. S. is very open-minded, so you can’t just assume beard burn equates to a new man in his life.”
“As Alicia is always saying, this isn’t Grey’s Anatomy, so can we please move on from the ‘let’s poke at Stilinski’ segment of our night?” Stiles asks, his tone dry because he’s not admitting anything. These three—now that he knows Susie better—are like sharks circling and waiting for a sniff of blood. And he’s not bleeding for them.
“Did the leg injury make eyes at Stilinski?” Lucas asks Susie. “I’ve got a dollar riding on your answer so think before you speak.”
“She did the awkward teenager thing with her eyes and simpered his name,” Susie says bluntly. “He ignored it, but she tried to shoot her shot, so good for her.”
“Told you so,” Alicia says, making a show of folding the dollar and tucking it into the pocket of her scrubs. “You start to learn the look of the ones who flirt with anyone attractive.”
“Why were you scowling?” Susie asks him a second time. She scratches her nose. “It didn’t seem like you were angry or anything.”
He’s forgotten what it’s like to be around who can smell his emotions and has no qualms about doing so. He shrugs. “I was wondering why Mister Fantastic doesn’t just shag or kill Doom so these stupid casualty events could stop. I mean, how can Doom do so much damage and never get out on trial or imprisoned but we see people jailed for trespassing because it’s freezing outside and they sought warmth in the wrong store.”
“Because the system is f-worded, doctor,” Alicia says. “Doom is a rich man who bribes his way to freedom. If he was poor or, God forbid, black? The man would done be dead by now.”
“I know there are laws and rules in society that most people follow, but it seems to me that the vigilantes in tights would be better off shooting to kill sometimes instead of giving a bad guy the chance to even become a super villain,” he says, shaking his head. He looks at Susie. “ That’s what was making me scowl.”
“Superheroes aren’t just vigilantes in tights, Stilinski,” Lucas points out. “I was caught in the middle of the Incident, and I was about to become alien chow, but Captain America saved me. Another time, Lily was in a hostage situation at the bank, and the Black Widow got them to safety.”
“I’m not saying that they’re all bad or anything,” he says. “I’m just saying that they could do more good for the world if they killed the bad guys more often.”
Alicia laughs. “Doctor, then they would be vigilantes,” she says. “I’m not disagreeing that some of these people need to be buried, but randomly killing anyone doing a crime isn’t that smart.”
“I don’t mean just anyone, but, like. Take Doom. This is the sixth or seventh tantrum he’s had for Fantastic’s attention, yet he’ll be free to do it again. Three strikes and he should be—.” He makes the motion of cutting his throat. “Properly and accounts donated to the victims of his crimes. Bam. Problem solved. Maybe it’d make the villains think twice before continuing their crime sprees.”
“You’re something else, Dr. S.,” Susie says with a laugh. “You should send that to the mayor as a suggestion.”
“The mayor is bought and paid for by the highest bidder, so it would be pointless, but it’s nice to know I’m special,” he says, pursing his lips and fluttering his eyelashes. He gets an alert on his pager and groans. “The man in ten is at the wonderful stage of vomiting in his withdrawal.”
“Not it,” all three say almost at once.
“Damn it,” Lucas grumbles. “So close. I hate working with you two. Obadiah is always a few seconds late.”
“I’m ordering Ativan, thiamine, and diazepam,” Stiles tells him. “Make sure he’s getting fluids. Susie, call to see if they’ve got a room for him yet. We don’t need him here if he’s close to DTs.”
“On it, doc,” Susie says, reaching for the phone. Lucas goes to get the medications, muttering about needing a splash guard if the guy’s already throwing up.
“You know we’re just teasing you because we like you,” Alicia says, giving him a look like she’s his grandma from another family. “Whoever the mystery person who sent you with food last night is should get invited to our informal holiday celebration next month if they’re still around. Maybe you’ll make me jealous enough to talk to Molly about that polymy whatever shit you’ve teased me about.”
“It’s polyamory, and I don’t know what’ll be happening by next month,” Stiles says, looking at her. “But I’ll think about if he’s still around. Introducing him to all of you might scare him enough to leave me single.”
Alicia snorts. “If he’s able to put up with you, he can definitely handle us, Stilinski. I’ll tell the others to lay off since it’s obviously very new, but you only get two weeks before it’s a free for all again.”
“Wow. Two whole weeks,” he says dryly. He looks at his results folder and sees the x-ray pending a read. “While we’ve got everything caught up, for now, I’m going to take ten minutes to grab a snack in the doctors’ lounge.”
“I’ll page you if we need you,” Alicia says, patting his arm.
Stiles takes his laptop and goes to the lounge, opening his locker to get the bag of apple slices that Bucky sent with him for a second night. He munches on one as he sits down and casts a silencing charm. He learned his lesson after Susie’s eavesdropping, after all.
It’s only eleven, so he knows Lydia’s still awake. Last night was just non-stop so he didn’t get a chance to call her. Tonight started off with a bang, but it’s slow enough now that he thinks he can actually give her a call. Pulling up Sister Wife, he decides to do a video call so he can see her reaction. He knows her too well for her to be able to hide her real thoughts without him noticing.
When she answers, he sees that she’s for her hair pulled back into a ponytail and there’s dust on her cheek. “Is this a bad time?” he asks.
“It’s a great time,” she says, standing and walking with her phone. “I’m sorting the closet in the spare room because I’m packing boxes, and it’s a mess. I even found that stupid onesie you forced me to wear five Christmases ago.”
“A She Ra onesie is not stupid,” Stiles points out, leaning back on the lumpy couch in their lounge. He’s keeping an eye on the door just so he isn’t surprised if someone else comes into the room. “Did you keep it?”
“I wouldn’t dare let anyone see that it was in my possession, so I’m certainly not donating it,” she tells him in her freshman year snotty tone, as he calls it. “It’s packed in one of the boxes. I don’t know how I’ve accumulated so much stuff when I’m always working. It’s a serious problem because the apartments in Manhattan aren’t very big even with our budget.”
“I’d guess most of what you’ve got is clothing related,” Stiles says. “Or books. We’ll just have to get creative with storage options when you move.”
“What’s that on your throat?” she asks suddenly, her eye filling the screen as she moves super close to her phone. “Is that a rash? Are you allergic to something? I’m your emergency contact, Stiles. If you’ve got a new allergy, I need to be informed.”
“Calm down, Lydia,” he says, rolling his eyes. She takes her emergency contact title too seriously. “It’s, uh, well, Bucky hasn’t shaved in a couple of days.”
She pulls her phone back from her face and blinks. A sly smile suddenly curves upwards on her lips. “ Oh, I see,” she says sweetly. “Aloe Vera can help with that, babe. Remember when I dated Abhay?”
“Unfortunately,” Stiles says, making a face. The guy had been smart, but he had some gender ideas that didn’t fit with having a girlfriend who was a genius and way more ambitious than becoming a wife.
“Yes, he was a jerk with archaic ideas about women, but he had the softest beard,” she says, smiling slightly. “The beard is the reason he lasted two months instead of half a date.”
“Gross. You’re my sister. I don’t want to think about that,” he says, making an exaggerated grimace at the phone.
“We’ve had sex, Stiles,” she says dryly. “You’ve had your face up close and personal with my—“
“Okay. Enough reminiscing,” he cuts in. “So, I told Bucky everything. And he was surprised, at first, but then he was all ‘that’s it?’ like some kind of romantic lead in a movie.”
“Wait!” She screeches, the sound making him grimace because ow. “You told him? What do you mean by everything? Do you know about him yet or am I still forbidden from speaking?”
“What? I’m sorry. I can’t hear you from the shrill ringing in my ears,” he says, making a show of rubbing his ears. “You’re still forbidden. He’s planning to tell me about his past as a former villain, but apparently he needs visual guides or a PowerPoint or something because he thinks it’ll help him explain, and we didn’t have time for that before my three day work stretch started.”
“Huh. Yeah, okay, I can actually see that being beneficial,” she muses. “Now, give me details. I’m assuming things are going well considering your neck looks like that, but what does he know?”
“All of it,” Stiles says, glancing at the door despite his precautions. “Well, not every single thing that’s ever happened, but the important stuff. I told him about the Nogitsune, about this body not even being old enough for puberty yet, about the remnants, about the accelerated healing, about the darkness that’s inside me that’s a part of me the Nogitsune just brought to light, about my Spark, about the deceleration of my aging. I don’t know, Lydia. Just a bunch of talking and trying to warn him off.”
“Only it didn’t work, did it?” she says smugly even as he sees her eyes becoming shiny. “I told you, Stiles. I told you that you weren’t doomed for a life forever alone or being thought of as my sugar baby in another decade or two.”
“Stuff Your ‘I told you so’, Lydia,” he mutters, flipping her off. He looks at her and smiles wryly. “I’m preparing to hear something completely awful about his past considering how easily he accepted mine. He said it’s like we’re kindred spirits, and I think maybe he means that literally.”
“What’s your theory?” she asks, seeming to delight in hearing his random theories about Bucky now that she knows who he is because he’s probably so off base that it amuses her. That’s what he assumes, at least.
“Well, if he’s a mutant of some kind, I’m thinking maybe mind control? Not possessed but, like, how Jackson was given orders by a master or something,” Stiles says thoughtfully. “I’m not exactly sure, but it felt like he gets it, you know? Like he’s been powerless while someone used him to do bad things. You and I…we’ve been used that way, same with Jackson. There’s something about it that leaves a lingering feeling of recognition.”
Lydia looks down, so he can’t see her reaction. She’s been doing that since he told her he promised Bucky that he could tell him on his own terms. When she looks up, he can’t tell whether his theory is close or not.
“You said he’s planning to tell you soon?” Lydia asks. “Have you informed him that I’m going to be meeting him when I’m staying with you for Thanksgiving?”
“He asked me to pack a bag and stay with him during my three days off,” Stiles tells her. “He’s planning to sometime during that time. As for meeting you, he knows, and he thinks he’s going to be able to charm you.” He smiles at that.
“Oh really?” Lydia draws out the last word. “It takes more than a pretty face to charm me, especially if he’s trying to go steady with my brother.”
“Yeah, turns out that means something more than just casually seeing one person in a friendly way,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Instead, it means dating and making my snacks for lunch on work nights.”
“The man made you snacks for lunch?” Lydia sighs. “Damn, he is going to be able to charm me if he’s taking care of you like that.”
“No, don’t make it easy on him,” Stiles says, crunching on another apple slice. “I want him to work for your approval.”
Lydia laughs. “I’ll see what I can do then, brother husband. Now, any updates on your wolfy nurse? Have you figured out if the white wolf from my drawing is somehow connected to her?” She covers a yawn, which sets him off into a yawn despite the fact he isn’t tired. “Any further encounters with Hydra?”
“Updates: she’s pretty cool. Like a less bitchy Hale?” Stiles shrugs. “In that, she’s a born wolf so she has similar mannerisms, but she’s not as rough around the edges. I mean, she still has her pack and wasn’t targeted by a hunter clan and, right. They have reasons to be rough around the edges. No idea about the white wolf. I’m thinking maybe it represents the supernatural in general like you suggested. My spark is technically supernatural, after all, and I’ll be using it to protect myself.”
“And Hydra?” she asks, giving him a pointed look. “Any additional information you’d like to share that you’ve conveniently forgotten to mention?”
“Um, I told you that I think one of the infectious disease doctors might be working for them, right?” he asks, watching her reaction. “Okay, no, I guess I didn’t get quite that detailed.”
“You’ve mentioned a doctor but nothing specific. Infectious disease?” She frowns. “Like they’re doing something with a virus maybe? It’s smart if they want to terrorize people or make a legitimate threat against the governments.”
“The jury’s still out on all that, but Dr. Wash is acting strange, and I know he’s on the superhero task force whatever they’re called radar,” he says. “Fortunately, I don’t have to work with him often at all, and I just avoid him when’s lurking around my department.”
“What did you do?” she asks. “No, don’t even give me that attempt at innocence because I saw your eyes glance to the left when you mentioned avoiding him, and that’s totally your ‘I’m full of shit’ tell.”
“Pshaw. I don’t have a tell,” he says. “You’re just trying to get me to think I have a tell so I’ll admit that I did something that I shouldn’t have but I’m on to you, sister wife. I didn’t do anything except avoid Wash and go on a breakfast date with my friend that I kiss and now date.”
Lydia snickers. “Boyfriend. The word that you’re avoiding is boyfriend,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Or, for Bucky, maybe your beau is more appropriate. Don’t think I believe that you haven’t done something likely stupid if you refuse to tell me about it, but I’m not pushing tonight because you said the word date in connection with another person after I’ve spent the past few years hearing you refuse to ever use it.”
“Neither of us are boys, Lydia,” he tells her. “I might call him my bae just to see if he knows what it means. I’d try boo at some point, but he’d probably assume I was trying to scare him. He isn’t very up to date on most slang.”
Lydia starts laughing just as his pager goes off.
“Okay, beautiful. Work is calling me,” he says, standing up. “I’ll call you next week so we can finalize your plans for Thanksgiving. I took that Saturday off since my rotation already encompasses Wednesday through Friday that week.”
“My flight is booked for a ridiculously early time on Wednesday morning,” she says. “I’ll send you the details but don’t plan on coming to get me. I’ll just get a cab.”
“Sounds good. Can’t wait to see you,” he says honestly. He went up to Boston for a long weekend in June, but that’s the time they’ve physically been in the same place.
“Love you, Stiles,” she says. “And I’m really happy that things are going well with Bucky.”
“Love you, too,” he says, making kissy faces at the phone that make her snort before she ends the call. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before he opens the door and gets back to work.
Eight hours later, he’s finished with his charting and ready to leave. He walks with Susie and Alicia to the subway station that they use before he continues his walk home. There’s one brief stop to get a cup of coffee, but he still has plenty of food in his kitchen from his shopping with Bucky the other day.
When he reaches his apartment, he’s pleasantly surprised to see Bucky sitting on the stairs next to Frank’s wheelchair. Frank is talking and gesturing, and Stiles hears him describing some military maneuver as he gets closer. Bucky looks up and smiles when he approaches before turning his attention back to Frank.
“Stiles, is it already that time?” Frank asks, noticing him and ending his story. “I’ve been chewing James’ ear off, I guess.”
“I asked him about his experience in Vietnam,” Bucky says as he gets to his feet. “I’m not familiar with that war at all.”
“Maybe not, but you know a lot about the Second World War,” Frank says with a reassuring smile before looking at Stiles. “That was before my time and I’ve never been into history, but your boy makes it seem like we’re there when he’s talking about it. I asked him if he’s a history teacher, but he said no.”
“Thanks for keeping me company, Frank,” Bucky says, shaking Frank’s hand before turning to face Stiles. “Here, let me help with that, Doc. Did you have a good night?”
“Just another day at the office, honey,” he says with the tone of a 1950s sitcom husband. Bucky just arches a brow and gives him a look. “Fine, I’ll answer normally. It was eventful,” he says, letting Bucky take the canvas bag from him. He waits until they’re in the lobby before he leans over and gives him a quick kiss. “Doctor Doom decided to be attention seeking last night, so we had a really busy couple of hours.”
“That’s bad for the people, but also good for the chaos, right?” Bucky asks. “Oh, the elevator is working right now. I saw Julian when he was on his way to work, and he let me know.”
“That’s good,” Stiles says, walking over and hitting the up button. “I don’t mind the stairs, but I definitely enjoy not having to use them after a twelve hour night.”
“I don’t know how you can stand for that long and then walk home without having sore feet,” Bucky admits. He lowers his voice. “I’ve had to stand for over an hour waiting for a target before, and my feet hated it.”
“Mine hate it, too, but I’ve become used to it, and I also invested in some really comfortable shoes.” He steps onto the elevator, waiting to hit the button until Bucky is ready. “I’m also really tolerant to pain since everything happened. I guess I’m able to channel the pain into other things.”
“Huh. I wouldn’t have thought about that, but it makes sense with the thing you mentioned,” he says. “Did you eat your snacks?”
“Yes, Dad. I ate my snacks,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I actually ate the apples when I was catching up with Lydia during my break, and my nurses kept stealing the trail mix you concocted.”
“I’ll send them some separate so they don’t eat all yours,” Bucky decides, giving him a look. “If you say one word, there’ll be no more kisses this morning, Doc.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Stiles denies. “Except that you need to shave because I got called out by not only Lydia but also my nurses for the beard burn I didn’t even realize was that bad.”
Bucky looks smug, which makes Stiles punch his arm. “What?” Bucky asks, still smirking. “Sorry they noticed you’ve got someone kissing you?”
“Just for that, I’m going to stop shaving so I can get payback,” he says, rubbing his chin and wondering how long it’s take to have enough stubble to make marks.
“I saw that scraggly thing you call a beard, Doc. It’s not burning anything,” Bucky says with a snort.
“You must really like my sofa because you’re getting super close to sleeping on it today,” Stiles says casually, leaving the elevator when it reaches the sixth floor. He goes to his and unlocks it, leaving it open so Bucky can follow him inside.
“It’s a nice sofa,” Bucky says, putting the bag on the counter before walking closer. “But I’m going to sleep wherever you’re sleeping.”
“Are you?” Stiles asks, taking off his coat and walking to his bedroom. “I don’t remember agreeing to that, Buck. Maybe you’re mistaken.”
He reaches out and catches Stiles’ arm, turning him at the same time he steps closer. “Guess I need to ask nicely, Doc,” he murmurs before he kisses him.
Bucky’s coat is shoved off in the living room, and Stiles loses his shoes somewhere near his bedroom door. Shirts get pulled over heads at the same time, lips meeting again almost instantly. Their pants stay on as they fall on his bed, still kissing, just getting lost in each other.
Eventually, the kisses become softer, and they move around until they’re under his covers. Bucky rolls over, and Stiles scoots behind him, moving his arm around Bucky’s waist. He brushes his lips against Bucky’s shoulder before closing his eyes; both of them ready to get some sleep.