Superheroes

There Will Be Better Days

Stiles jinxed himself with his statement the night before, clearly. He doesn't sleep well, because anxiety and ADHD are a super-fun brain combination. His tastebuds have decided that nothing tastes good and damn Derek for still making him eat so he won't wither away, the dramatic peacock. His dad is in a good mood and that helps, but Stiles deflates when he's reminded that Scott and Kira are going to leave in two days. He's definitely going to take a break over a weekend and head back to Beacon Hills for some full pack time. If he has to drag Lydia back to the West Coast kicking and screaming, he will.

Well, maybe not screaming. Because ow.

At least Barnes told him to spend time with his dad instead of coming to the conference room. Spending the day with his dad balances out the downs he's feeling. They get a few hours in the morning just to themselves and Stiles tells more stories that aren't Barnes-specific. Dad tells some stories of home as well, hijinx that Liam and Mason are getting into constantly, including more drama about the Europe trip. They reconvene with Scott, Kira, and Derek for lunch and then spend the afternoon lounging.

Just before he starts throwing out dinner options, his phone rings with an unknown number. Stiles makes a face but answers it, just in case. It's more than likely spam since it's an unlisted number and his phone won't even tell him the actual digits.

"Hello?"

"Yo, annoying little shit - which, I gotta tell you, I love that nickname so thanks - you got a few secs?"

Stiles blinks and then pulls his phone away from his ear, glaring at the blank screen. Because out of every Avenger, Tony Stark is not supposed to have his number. Ever. He's pretty sure Stark is the only one who doesn't, at this point, but everyone else knows that he doesn't want Stark to have it. Hell, the damned wolf plushie is still floating around the Tower and he's had jack shit to do with that since the day he bought it.

"Which one of the wonder fuckers gave you my number?" he bites out, planning his retribution accordingly. He's really only screwed if it was Dr. Banner. Bruce is too nice and Lydia would murder him for any type of retribution against the scientist. Well, and Natasha. He's not about to go against her if she's the culprit because he's still finding glitter from that damn bomb. The rest of them are fair damn game.

Stark snorts, not nearly as afraid of Stiles' tone as he should be. "I think he's a little offended. Are you offended, Buckaroo?"

Stiles blinks. Why was Barnes with Stark? He avoids Stark more than Stiles does, but that's more of a stimulation and hypervigilance issue than an annoyance issue. Plus, Barnes has his number and has no problems calling or text Stiles.

"What's going on with Barnes?" he asks, irritated tone replaced with concern. For privacy, he stands and walks into the bedroom, leaving his family glancing at each other.

"We started a little maintenance on the arm since I'm trying to - well, it doesn't matter. It started out fine but the plates are reacting to his muscle tension and since you managed to help out last time, Barnes agreed to let me contact you. Since Friday didn't get through, he shared your number."