Superheroes

Just Getting Started

"What the shit is this shit?!" Stiles shouts at them. When he turns to Barnes, the other supersoldier just nods to himself, like this whole circus is normal. "What?!"

"Makes sense," Barnes says, walking toward the ring. Thor follows, and Stiles unglues himself from his spot and rushes forward.

"No, it doesn't," Stiles rambles. "Me standing next to the literal god of thunder makes more sense right now." He's going to have a breakdown. He's going to have an absolute mental breakdown. His life may have been a soap opera in high school, but he locked that shit down years ago. He has his life together now and he is not surprised by anything. There is no way on God's green earth that Captain Fucking America was a werewolf.

Rogers and Derek both jump out of the ring, and while they're both graceful and move similarly, nothing about Rogers screams wolf  to him. He doesn't even ping the supernatural radar. "We're not werewolves."

Stiles' legs give out, and he collapses against the boxing ring. "Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus." He uses one of the ropes to pull himself up so air can reach his lungs. As he pants in relief, Derek walks over to him. The alpha still puts his body in between Stiles and the other men, but it's not as defensive as is typical for the gesture.

"Stop being so dramatic," Derek tells him. Stiles stares at him incredulously before gesturing to the ring beside him where the alpha flipped and prance and peacocked around. Derek does nothing but raise an eyebrow, and Stiles ignores him.

He whirls around to glare at Rogers and Barnes again. "How do you know about werewolves? If you're not werewolves, what are you?" They share a look, and Stiles flails his hands at them. He knows that look. That's a we shouldn't say anything look. "Nope. You don't get to drop a supernatural bomb, mic-drop, and moonwalk out of here like it's NBD."

"The fuck did you just say?" Barnes asks after a moment.

"Oh my God," he mutters, facepalming. Stiles paws at Derek's shoulder. Used to the unspoken plea for help, Derek sighs and translates the unique Stiles-speak for them.

"He said that you can't reveal that you know about werewolves and decide not to share the story about how you know about werewolves."

Rogers blinks in confusion. "I'm... pretty sure that's not at all what he said."

"Trust me," Derek deadpans.

Heaving a sigh, Stiles drops his arms. "Okay, you know what? Let's move this away from the thunderdome. Do you want to go back to the conference room? Or maybe one of our rooms for drinks and food? I need food after that. Don't you need food? Let's do food."

While Stiles walks towards the double doors, Derek shakes his head. "Just... let's go with it for now."

"With what?" Rogers asks. "I don't know what's going on."

"Good!" Stiles shouts over his shoulder. "That makes two of us!"

They have to make a pit-stop at the conference room anyway for the papers and Stiles' bag. When they head back to the apartment, Rogers and Barnes stand in the foyer until Derek gestures for them to sit. Stiles moves to the kitchen to grab a few bottles of water and start whipping up some snacks that will restore energy but not ruin their appetites, not that anyone but him has to worry about that.