Title: Owning It
Fandom: Teen Wolf, Blue Bloods, Marvel Comics Universe (Cinematic), Mortal Kombat
Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Jamie Reagan, Peter Hale/Erin Reagan, Scott McCall/Allison Argent
Warnings: Major Character(s) Death, rampant assholery, snark, not for Scott fans.
Summary: All because Scott made all his decisions with his dick and sided with Hunters over his friends and family the whole world went to shit. Once again, it’s up to Stiles to save the day…all he has to sacrifice is his mortality.
Timeline: This takes place at the end of Season 2 of Teen Wolf, nowhere specific in Mortal Kombat (just borrowing a couple characters, really), nowhere specific in Blue Bloods, just using the characters, and begins before the first Iron Man movie (however, the Marvel movie!verse will play a role in how things chug along).
Beta: Thanks to Icefallstears for being an excellent cheerleader/beta/idea wall
WARNING! Major Character(s) Death in this chapter.
Two years later
All Tony Stark knew was that Pepper was crying. It wasn’t crying over a sad movie, tears of relief, or crying out of frustration because of, well, him. This was grief, pure unadulterated grief. He carefully approached her, hoping — perhaps in vain — not to piss her off and upset her any more than she already was.
“Pep? What’s wrong? What happened? JARVIS, what happened?”
“She received a very upsetting phone call, sir,” replied his AI.
“Oh, Tony, he’s been killed! He’s really dead! How could this happen? And Stiles, he’s the only one left.” She sobbed into his shoulder for a few minutes while Tony tried to figure out the proper response. Even after he got back from his every so lovely kidnapping she hadn’t fallen apart like this.
“Um, I’m sorry about him dying, Pepper. But –” Pepper tensed in his arms — “who exactly is this ‘he’?”
Pepper relaxed again, stood back and wiped her eyes while explaining, “John Stilinski, the husband of my best friend growing up. He and I stayed close after she died, and I became Aunt Pepper to his son, Stiles. You know this, Tony, you even met him a few times.”
“Was this before Afghanistan? The weird kid who talked too much?” Tony recalled a couple of meetings with the kid, but nothing stood out. Then again, he was usually drunk or involved in his project of the moment.
“Yes,” she answered, exasperated. “That is Stiles, and he is not weird, Tony.” Beginning to put herself together again, she started making plans for what had to happen next. “I need some time off, Tony, about a week. I need to get to California so he can be buried tomorrow. They’re doing the autopsy this evening and Stiles will need me there to help while he sits shiva.”
“He sits what?”
“He’s Jewish, Tony, and there are rules and traditions that have to be followed. They weren’t an observant family by any means other than here and there, but this tradition I know John wanted followed.” She started packing up her stuff so she could go home and fill a suitcase before flying out. “JARVIS, please book me a flight to Beacon Hills, California, nearest airport, and a rental for when I get there. I need a couple hours to get my things together and actually get to the airport.” She got out her phone to text Stiles her plans and that she would see him soon. Oh, maybe she should call one of the Hale’s?
Tony interrupted her train of thought with a scoff. “No way, cancel that, JARVIS. You’ll be taking the jet. Do you need me to come with you?” Already he was on a computer looking up any news about the death. She had said he was killed, but he wanted to know details.
“No, if you don’t mind please stay here. I might need your help coordinating things for him. The insurance, the house, packing everything and shipping it here to New York. I’ll call you when I arrive and some decisions have been made.”
“Right, right,” he was already distracted by his research. “JARVIS, take care of the rental, please, make it something nice.”
“Of course, sir. My condolences, Ms. Potts, on your loss.”
“Thank you JARVIS,” Pepper said with a sniff, her eyes still red from crying. “I’ll be in touch, Tony, bye.”
It had started out as a nice vacation. Stiles had just gotten his bachelor’s degrees, yes he had more than one, and came home to celebrate with his dad before continuing on with his post-graduate work. New York was sort of lonely with only Peter there at the moment. Derek, and Cora were with another pack, allies of the Hales, training and learning more about their positions, lore, tradition, et cetera. Also, they were getting therapy. Allllll the therapy. Perhaps Derek would come out of this speaking whole sentences at a time and making questions actually sound like questions. Who knew? Impossible things happened every day.
Living in New York was hard at first, Peter having only joined him a year ago. School was really interesting, and training with Raiden was beyond interesting and completely frustrating at the same time. It felt fantastic to have the freedom to study at his own pace and design his own curriculum. The college had been very accommodating once his test scores came through. The problem was making friends at a level above acquaintance. It felt wrong because they weren’t pack, and they also weren’t people that he considered potential pack.
Sure, the other packs around the five boroughs introduced themselves to him, and completely unsubtly provided protection while his pack was indisposed. Nothing felt as good as when Peter came to join him in the city while studying to be reinstated to the bar. The Hales and Pepper had together bought a whole building right in Manhattan, dividing the floors up between them so they each had their private space but still lived together. It also had the added benefit of Stiles not needing to live in a dorm, where security could not be guaranteed. With Stiles’ penchant for getting kidnapped and/or threatened, the dormitories would just not do.
John Stilinski was glowing with pride when he picked up his son from the airport. It was a relief that his son was finally living up to his potential, despite what pushed him there. He was surprised at the difference being away from the influence of Scott McCall and the Argents had on his son. Stiles was looking healthy and happy and also excited for when Derek and Cora would join him and Peter in New York.
“Hey, Daddy-O! Give your favorite son a hug.”
“You’re my only son, Stiles.”
“It’s how I know I’m your favorite,” Stiles cheekily replied. Retrieving the luggage and maneuvering out of the airport maze to get home was something of a trial, but both men were too overjoyed and having some time to spend together in person to really care about it. It had been hard being away all this time, but they made the most of it. Stiles still heard all the gossip about town, learned about the new players in his dad’s office, and so on.
The two of them caught up over dinner, and exchanged a few gifts. Stiles’ 18th birthday had been a month prior and he couldn’t be happier. While he hadn’t met anyone he wanted to date in New York, not wanting to get anyone arrested for paying him any attention was kind of important.
About three days into his father’s vacation time the two of them found themselves having breakfast with the rest of the deputies not on shift at the diner. Some good-natured teasing and requests for stories filled the air while they all ate.
And of course, because things were going so well did it turn into one of the worst days of Stiles Stilinski’s life.
They were departing the diner, jokes flying left and right, mostly at Stiles’ expense, when they heard the cry.
“Somebody please help me! Please!” Deputy Jordan Parrish spotted the little girl first: approximately 6 years in age, light brown curly hair, green eyes, pale complexion. She was running from the other side of the parking lot, veering towards them once she saw the badges and uniforms. “She’s trying to kill me! Please, help me!”
Sheriff Stilinski caught her, and tried to calm her down. “It’s okay, sweetie, we’ve got you. You want to tell us your name? Who is trying to kill you?” The little girl was sobbing too hard to be able to answer and instead just clung to him. It was then that they saw who the perpetrator was.
Allison Argent was running towards them, bow and arrow already in hand.
Stiles looked the girl over again and reached out with his magic to do a check, and yes, she was a young werewolf. The Sheriff shoved the girl behind him and had his gun out while Allison headed towards them — he never left the house unarmed anymore. “Put the weapon down, Ms. Argent, you are not hurting this child!” he called out to her. His deputies fanned out, all of them had their weapons drawn.
“Sweetie,” Stiles whispered to the child, “how did she find you? Where is your pack? Did someone in your pack break the code or did she just show up and start killing?” The little girl, who still remained nameless, shook her head vehemently when asked about breaking the code.
“She found us playing around in the forest,” she explained brokenly, still crying. “She didn’t care that we weren’t doing anything, she just starting shooting.” She clung to Stiles legs in desperation. “I want my mommy!” she wailed.
“Allison! Put. The weapon. Down,” his father demanded, all of officers taking steps closer to her while speaking.
“No, she has to die!”
“Did she break any sort of code or law?” the Sheriff asked, hoping to get close enough to grab the weapon before something regretful happened. He made sure to keep himself between the weapon and the girl, though, not wanting to take any chances.
“Get out of the way! She’s going to die!” And with that, Allison just fired. Stiles pulled the girl to the ground and shielded her with his body. The next thing he heard was gunshots and then — quiet.
“Dad?” he called trying to figure out what was going on. “All the deputies were blocking his view of his father and Allison. Since they were all doing so with their weapons down, he assumed it was clear.
Getting up, and then helping the little girl, too, they walked closer to where the officers were.
“No, Stiles, stay back. You don’t want to see this,” Deputy Parrish said gently, trying to block his view. Stiles ignored him and pushed his way around, handing the girl off to him.
“Dad? Dad? Dad!” he could feel the panic attack coming on as he finally saw what everyone was crowding around. He ignored the ambulance sirens getting closer — someone must have called it in when Allison first showed up — and the other deputies protesting his presence right now. He ignored Allison Argent lying dead and bleeding out from multiple gunshot wounds.
He wanted his dad — his father, the only family he had left in the world — he wanted his dad to not be laying in front of him with an arrow in heart.
Nothing existed outside of the scene in front of him. No sounds were getting through, no pain from landing on the asphalt so abruptly, nothing. It was just Stiles and his father — his father who was not breathing, not moving, not anything.
It was nightmare come to life.
He didn’t even realize he was screaming, that he was crying until Jordan pulled him back from the Sheriff and towards to the ambulance. How could this be? How could any rational thought occur right now other than his father was dead. His father was dead.
“Stiles!” the voice seemed to be coming from far away, but Stiles saw the deputy’s lips moving in front of him. “Stiles, you need to calm down and breathe for me, okay? I can’t have you passing out right now. Andrea refuses to go to the hospital without you, and she won’t speak to anyone but you.” Stiles just looked at him in confusion, his brain still not catching up with reality. He did notice, however, that Parrish’s face was wet with tears, as were most of the faces of the men and women who worked with his father. “Please, Stiles, go with her for right now. I promise we’ll take care of him, please.”
“His body can’t be left alone. It’s against custom. He needs to not be alone until the Rabbi comes.” Stiles didn’t know where it came from, but he remembered the rules, memorized them when his mother died. Oh, God! His father was dead and now he had absolutely no one. What the fuck was he going to do?
Four hours later Pepper Potts and Peter Hale walked into the hospital to find Stiles and take him home. Pepper had already found out what was happening with body and had the Rabbi take control once the coroner signed off. Since there was video evidence and plenty of witnesses things went fairly quickly in that department. Sheriff John Stilinski, formerly John Carlton, also known as Johnny Cage, would be buried in the Jewish cemetery according to custom next to his wife. Thank God John had a living will, this way no one could mess up his final wishes.
There was so much to do! First on the list was getting Stiles home and helping him prepare the house for shiva. Peter would help with the paperwork, Derek and Cora would handle guests once they got into town, Tony was organizing a moving company to pack up the house on the 8th day after the funeral and move it to a storage area in New York. She just had to keep busy. Keeping busy meant not having a breakdown because at least one person had to stay steady today to make sure it was all taken care of.
Peter was feeling hollow, a man he greatly respected was now gone and who knew how this would effect one of his favorite people in the world besides incredibly badly.
He was just enjoying his coffee at the corner café, reviewing notes for an exam coming up next week when he got the phone call. It really was quite tedious that he had to retake these courses and the bar exam to return to practice. Who cared about six years in a coma? It’s not like he lost his memory, for God’s sake!
But then the phone rang. The phone rang and it was Pepper informing him that the fucking Argents had once again murdered someone he cared about. He felt not an ounce of remorse in the satisfaction of knowing that the bitch Argent got her due, as well. But John was dead and Stiles witnessed everything.
He made plans to go home and pack and meet Pepper at the plane. His emissary needed him.
Tony managed to catch Derek and Cora, letting them know what was going on and where they needed to go. Just as he hung up with them Pepper called. He was expecting a crying Pepper or just very upset Pepper — what he got was a furious Pepper.
“Tony, I need you to get me some security, and I need you to get it here now,” she demanded, the fury completely evidence in her voice.
“Pep, are you okay? What’s happened? Did someone threaten you?” JARVIS was already fulfilling her wishes as Tony listened to her explain. Having such a fantastic AI, if he did say so himself, was very handy most of the time.
“The little shit that killed John? Yeah, apparently she has lots of family friends who are here ‘visiting’ and more on the way and they are looking to take revenge. Since they can’t get to the Sheriff anymore, they are gunning for his son.” She let out a little scream of frustration while she paced. “There is a lot more going on here than I knew, a lot more that lead to Stiles leaving here than any of us knew.”
“Tony, I think you need to call Coulson.”
Stiles didn’t really remember coming home from the hospital. He remembered Peter and Pepper arriving, sort of, and Peter helping the little girl — what is her name, again? — find her pack and getting her safely away. Apparently followers of the Argent psychosis were starting to show up and he was a target.
He felt like a hollow zombie going through the motions, just doing as directed by his moral support. It just couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t.
“Pepper, if you’re going to head to Beacon Hills to help Stiles with this, there are things you need to know.”
“Is this a glass of wine conversation or a couple fingers of whiskey?” was her only reply. After everything with Tony, nothing could possibly shock her.
“You’ll need more than just a couple fingers. Pace yourself, though, my dear. This story will take longer than the glass will last.”
The funeral was a quiet affair. Lots of people came out to support Stiles, but they kept silent out of respect, listened to the Rabbi say what he needed to say, threw some dirt on the coffin, and then left after giving their condolences to the grieving son.
Derek, Peter, Cora, and Pepper all went back to the Stilinski house to help out as guests would arrive. Stiles still felt separated from reality, but took the comfort his pack was offering. Apparently, Peter had filled Pepper in on everything on the plane ride over, so she was prepared to fight off the hunters trying to harass him. The deputies, who — surprise! — were also in the know helped her coordinate shifts until the security Tony was getting would arrive. She hoped she made the right call with getting Coulson involved, but she wasn’t leaving it up to the Hales. It would just cause them more trouble.
Stiles was picking at another plate of food — what the hell was going to do with all this food? — when a very unwelcome guest pushed his way into Stiles’ space.
“You killed her! You killed Allison! She’s dead, Stiles, and it’s all your fault!”
Scott McCall stood there basically frothing at the mouth in anger and grief at his former best friend, full of blame for what happened the previous day. Everything came to a standstill in the house, everyone paying attention to the little scene happening between the two young men.
“Are you fucking kidding me, here?” Stiles asked in a low voice. Well, if anything was going to snap him back to the present, he guessed this would be it. “Are you fucking kidding me right now you motherfucking asshole?” He got louder as he stood up, physically pushing the idiot away from him. “Where the fuck do you get off coming into my house while I’m in mourning and accusing me of something you damn well know isn’t true?” Stiles pushed him back once again towards the front door, everyone getting out of his way. Derek and Peter quietly made their way towards the pair hoping that Scott didn’t completely wolf out during the argument.
“Are you really standing there defending your psycho bitch girlfriend and accusing me of killing her when you know for a fact — when we ALL know for a fact — that she was the one doing the killing? And you sure as fuck know that I wasn’t the one to kill her, that would be the officers responding to an imminent threat and her killing an officer — my father— for no reason other than he wouldn’t let her kill an innocent child! What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?”
“You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
Stiles just looked at Scott in shock for a moment. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any stupider, but never let it be said I can’t admit when I’ve been wrong. You have to be the biggest moron I’ve ever known.” Once more he shoved him towards the front door. “I stopped being your best friend the moment you chose to think with your dick instead of your brain! I stopped being your best friend when you decided that trusting that psychotic family instead of your own was a good idea! I stopped being your friend when it took you four Goddamn months to realise I was gone, and that was only because you needed a ride somewhere!” He gave him one more shove, having made it to the front door, finally. “Scott McCall, you get out of his house, you are not welcome here. You haven’t been welcome here for the last two years, and that won’t be changing any time soon. All the fucks I had to give about your precious Allison flew out the window years ago, and I’m not gonna go looking for them now.”
Peter and Derek “helpfully” assisted Scott in leaving the domicile before he could utter another word, Pepper and Cora coming up behind Stiles to hold him while he trembled with fury.
With friends like that, who needed enemies?