Superheroes

Revolution Part 2

Fury doesn't say anything else, doesn't explain, even after Stiles gestures for more. "What the hell do you mean it's my resume? If you haven't realized it, I'm still in college."

He doesn't look impressed. "You've been in college. You have two degrees, four separate certifications, and you're on the fast-track for a PhD."

"I like learning," Stiles deadpans. The truth is, he does like learning, and it not only helps his pack but other packs. That, and as a joke, he, Scott, and Lydia made a bet their senior year of high school to see who could get the most letters added to their official signatures. Lydia is kicking their ass.

"You like helping, and it just so happens that I have someone you can help."

Stiles blinks, because that sounds a hell of a lot like a job proposal. At first, he thinks maybe they want him for his research, because he is a kickass researcher. Then he panics because what if they want him for his supernatural research? But no, they would be pulling up things that he could easily wave away as research for video games instead of his scholarly papers.

"Help," he repeats dubiously. "Help how?" Stiles' gaze darts down to the papers and then to the forum posts. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not going to school to become a psychologist. That's not my end game."

"Then why are you here?" Fury asks, gesturing around.

Stiles wants to reply with, I live here, but he knows what the question means. He crosses his arms defensively, because he's answered this question before, fielded it from advisors, fellow students, and professors. Why are you getting a degree in psychology if you're not going to become a psychologist?

He's tired of justifying his actions for choosing the colleges he does. He got his Bachelor's from Stanford. It's not like he's slumming. "I'm here because Cornell's programs dedicated to research on perception and cognition are the best in the country. Which, if you actually read these papers instead of having your minions print them off, you'd know is the main focus in my studies."

"Specifically," Fury interrupts with an unamused expression, "environmental perception, post-traumatic cognitions, and trauma coping self-efficacy in people with PTSD. Why do you think I'm here?"

He throws his arms up in exasperation. "Jesus, I still don't know. But, please tell me so I can get you the hell out of here. I have to start dinner before my boyfriend gets home, and if you're still around when he shows up, he will kick your asses."

Hawkeye snorts loudly and Stiles thanks the universe for its epic timing. Enough time has passed that Derek has run home, successfully disabled all the ground teams monitoring the house, and Stiles can feel him sneaking around the house to cross the wards.

"Really? You want to play it that way?" he shrugs. "Fine. How many of your teams have missed their check-ins by now?"

Fury frowns before looking to Hawkeye to confirm. Even the Avenger looks caught off guard, but he looks at his watch and then tilts his head to the side, murmuring too low for Stiles to hear. The frown deepens when he turns back to Fury. "Radio's silent."

Stiles smirks when Derek walks in from the bedroom, completely silent. Hawkeye notices his presence before Stiles thought he would and whirls around, pulling his gun and pointing it at Derek. The alpha gives him an unimpressed look before turning to Fury. "The radio's silent because everyone attached to them are unconscious. What the hell are you doing in my house?"

Fury glares at Derek, and Stiles wishes he could pull his phone up to film the showdown. The glowers are ridiculous. "Was that necessary?"

Derek gives Fury a look he usually reserves for Stiles and Scott, when he thinks their stupidity might be catching. "When someone I care about calls me and says there's a man with a gun in the house and he's under surveillance, I think it is. I'm only going to ask one more time before you're going to join the unconscious men outside."