Mischief Mondays Chapter 14: Stargent - Special Hunter Training, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Stargent || Teen Wolf || Special Hunter Training || Teen Wolf || Stargent || Teen Wolf

Title: Special Hunter Training – Mischief Mondays Series

Tags: m/m, fluff, falling in love, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Allison Argent

Summary: Stiles very selflessly agrees to distract Chris so Scott and Allison can sneak around. He asks Chris for self-defense lessons. All alone up close and personal with Beacon Hills' hottest DILF.

Special Hunter Training

Mischief Mondays Series

Stiles was the best damn friend on this entire planet and Scott should be so grateful to have him (Scott was so grateful and had told him so profoundly and with curly fries and milkshakes. Was going to do so for the whole next month, actually). Because if Stiles wasn't such a great and amazing best friend, he would absolutely not be standing in front of the Argent house right now.

So after the whole Gerard thing, Chris had kind of put his foot down and told Scott to stay away from Allison. Which obviously made Scott miserable. On day four of wallowing in mutual self-pity – Scott about Allison and Stiles about the severe beating he had received from Gerard, both sitting on Stiles' bed, eating ice-cream and watching Indiana Jones movies – Scott had asked the impossible of Stiles. If he couldn't 'distract' Chris so Scott could spend safe time with Allison.

Stiles' gut reaction had been to say absolutely not. On account of his last interaction with Chris being the man pinning him against a hospital wall and threatening him (Stiles needed to stop being turned on by getting threatened, by the way. Between Derek and Chris, Stiles was developing some kind of concerning kink there). But also, quite frankly, on account of Allison.

She had fully gone off the rails after her mother's death, started hunting werewolves. Had put a concerning amount of arrows into both Boyd and Erica, leading to their capture and consequent torture at the hands of Gerard. Stiles had spent enough of his nights of movies and shared ice-cream with Boyd and Erica since their return that it had come up, repeatedly.

Stiles was spending too much of his time eating ice-cream these days. He was also splitting his time too much between Scott and the pack. This had been easier during the brief time that both Scott and Stiles had joined the pack. Just for Scott to be an idiot and go behind Derek's back. Something he had, at least, apologized about to Stiles and, after a pointed glare from Stiles, also to Derek. But that didn't make Scott part of Derek's pack again. And Stiles didn't expect Derek to take Scott back after that. This just made Stiles' social life unnecessarily hard, because he was still considered pack, especially after he'd helped Derek and Isaac track down and find Boyd and Erica. Especially after the unique bonding experience of getting tortured together at the hands of Gerard Argent.

Wait, where had he been going with this…? Oh, right. Allison was severely unstable and had gleefully put arrows into Stiles' friends and pack-mates, so Stiles wasn't the biggest fan of Scott rekindling things with her. It was just going to make Stiles' social life even harder.

At the same time, Stiles also did know how much losing a mom could fuck someone up. And Stiles didn't know what bigoted brainwashing from 75% of your family could do to a person. So there was a part of Stiles that thought that maybe, being with Scott, spending more time with a werewolf, would help her unlearn what the Argents had taught her. He'd prefer her healing over making a life long enemy for the pack. He'd like to believe that dating Scott would go a long way in humanizing werewolves and help her unlearn all the shit Kate, Victoria and Gerard taught her.

He had to believe that, otherwise, he wouldn't be in front of the Argent house, sweaty palms and jittery heart and a growly voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Derek telling him that this was a bad idea. It was of course, he knew that, but when had that ever stopped Stiles.

He wanted his best friend's eternal happiness and he also wanted Allison to be rehabilitated and not turn into the next crazy murderous bigot. Two birds, one Stiles shaped stone. Or something like that.

"Are you going to knock or do you just plan on standing in front of my door all day long?"

Stiles gave an incredibly manly yelp as he suddenly found himself face to face with a scowling Chris. The little Derek voice in his mind kept getting louder the longer he stared at the man's chest and watched his biceps bulge as he leaned against the doorway. The voice also started to sound less like Derek and more like Scott in his 'your crush on Lydia is a very bad idea actually' voice.

"Stiles," Chris' voice was a dark and annoyed growl.

And yep, Stiles fully absolutely had somehow developed a kink for getting threatened by older guys, because that did things to him it absolutely should not. Yay him.

"Mister Argent. Can I call you Chris?" Stiles smiled brightly and barreled on before Chris had a chance to answer. "I want you to teach me self-defense."

Chris was too thrown off by that to protest the first name. "What."

"Well, you see," Stiles' smile was pulling on his sore lip and he made a point of tilting his head in a manner that drew attention to the bruised half of his face. "I would super like to avoid getting kidnapped and beaten up by crazy hunters in the future. And I just feel like after your father gave me three bruised ribs in your basement, you kind of owe."

The man flinched. Barely but it was there. And it filled Stiles with just a little relief. Because while they all had proof of the crazy of Kate, Gerard and Victoria, there was more uncertainty in regards to Chris. According to Boyd and Erica, he had stopped Allison from actually killing Boyd (which, still, what the actual fuck) and he had been the one to get Boyd and Erica out of the basement. So, the only Argent Stiles had serious hope for right now was Chris.

That was also the only reason why Stiles thought that maybe, if given time and also a Scott, Allison may be redeemable. A loving parent, who wasn't hellbent on killing all werewolves just because, would go a long way. If Chris was just like the rest of his family, then Stiles wouldn't see any chances there, because whatever good will Scott would be able to gain would just be squashed by more home-made brainwashing, the same way things had gone since Gerard got to town. But with all the murderous bigots of the family dead, maybe there was a chance for Chris to raise his daughter right, in combination with Scott's unconditional puppy love.

Chris heaved a deep sigh and crossed his (very delicious and strong) arms over his (well-defined and barely hidden by the too tight shirt) chest. Stiles was in just so, so, so much trouble. He absolutely needed to stop being attracted to Beacon Hills' hottest DILF like right now.

"What do you want from me, Stiles?"

For you to pin me against the nearest wall again, maybe push me around a little, and then fuck me until I can't walk. Stiles bit his tongue hard to keep himself from saying all the very inappropriate things his fear boner was telling him to say and instead tried to give an appropriate answer. It was hard (much like his fear boner, hah), but for once his non-existent brain to mouth filter cooperated.

"I want you to teach me how to fight a hunter," Stiles raised his chin and held Chris' eyes. "And I want you to teach me how to fight like a hunter."

Chris quirked an eyebrow, his look more intrigued at that. He didn't say anything though. Prompting Stiles to elaborate with just a look. Huh. Rare for people to want Stiles to talk more. He started fidgeting a little at that, playing with the hem of his hoodie.

"Look, I'm aware that werewolves are a fucking danger," Stiles frowned. "Been personally threatened by literally every single oversized puppy I know and these are the good guys. I want to be able to protect myself from werewolves too. You're the only hunter I know."

For a long moment did Chris just stare at him, like he was stripping away layers, until Stiles' core was laid bare before him. It made Stiles fidget even more and bite his lip hard. Just for him to wince because that split lip still hurt like a bitch. He released his lip and noticed the way Chris was staring at it. Yeah, Stiles was fully banking on the visual evidence of what Gerard had done to him to work in his favor and guilt-trip Chris into agreeing.

"I'm training Allison on the weekends. You can join her for those. Be here tomorrow at eight," Chris answered. "Be here on Tuesdays and Thursdays for more basic self-defense training. Something Allison has had since she was eight."

Okay. Okay, Stiles could work with that. Because training with Allison defeated the 'give Scott and Allison some alone time' purpose of this visit. But part of Stiles was interested in training with Allison, because maybe he too could be a good influence on her. Stiles grinned broadly.

Nodding pleased, Stiles turned away to leave. "Will do. See you tomorrow, Chris."

"That's Mister Argent, you brat," Chris called after him.

/break\

This was absolutely not how Stiles had imagined his summer to go. Four days a week at the Argents', voluntarily getting the shit beat out of him by either of them. Though his presence did work out well for the weekend training, because Chris could pit Allison and Stiles against each other and correct their stances, show them what to do instead of having to be Allison's sparring partner himself while trying to teach her. Tuesdays and Thursdays were merciless, because Chris only moderately held back (he was mindful of Stiles' still healing injuries, at least).

"I'm dying," Stiles gasped out as he collapsed backward onto the grass. "In fact, I'm fairly sure I'm already dead. Yeah. I think I died an hour ago."

Allison chuckled amused and sat down next to him, handing him a water bottle. "You're actually holding up surprisingly well, Stiles."

"She's right," Chris agreed, eyebrows furrowed. "You have much better stamina than I expected."

"Plus side of Lacrosse training, track runs and regularly running for your fucking life in Beacon Hills," Stiles tilted his head to offer both Argents a crooked grin. "I also did take up swimming, after that unpleasant two hour bath with Derek."

"…Two hour bath with Derek?" Chris repeated, a wary expression on his face.

"Uhu, when the kanima paralyzed him and threw us both in the pool," Stiles shrugged, waving vaguely with his hands. "Treading water for two hours while trying to keep an Alpha werewolf from drowning is actually an exercise I fully can not recommend."

The look on Chris' face could only be described as impressed and Stiles didn't know what to do with that, so instead, he took the water bottle, drank half of it and emptied the rest over his head with a pleased little sigh. The look on Chris' face changed into something that Stiles couldn't name and he was too exhausted to try to decipher it.

It was the end of their second week, Sunday afternoon, and he figured it was time to test the waters, beyond training. "So—o, how's the grief work going?"

Allison next to him stilled, the smile frozen. "I don't… What do you mean."

Stiles raised his eyebrows at her. "I mean that you lost your practically-like-a-big-sister aunt and your mother and now your… well, I mean you only knew him for a hot second, but still. Point is, you lost a lot of family. How are you working through that grief?"

He sat up, legs crossed and regarding her. Chris behind her tensed, a protective glare on his face.

"I mean, I just…" Allison shrugged, a near helpless look on her face.

"You have been dealing with it by throwing yourself into revenge," Stiles tilted his head, a bemused look on his face. "You helped kill Peter after he killed Kate, you tried to kill Derek after he killed your mother. Also did some severely fucked up things to Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Your outlet for grief has been violence and that's not healthy. Not for you, or any of the werewolves who get in the way."

"That's quite enough, Stiles," Chris warned, voice a dark growl.

This time, Stiles didn't get a fear boner. Instead, he leveled Chris with an unimpressed glare.

"No, it's not. Because my friends, my pack, ended up strung up in your basement thanks to a severe lack of working through your daughter's grief," Stiles got up and stood straight at his full height in front of the man. "I want to learn to defend myself from hunters. And I would prefer if Allison wasn't one of the hunters I'll have to defend myself from, to put it very bluntly."

The man still held his gaze, a fire blazing in his eyes. Allison hunched over a little, looking somewhat guilty. Which was a good sign. Stiles crossed his arms, not flinching or backing down.

"When my mother died, my father's way of dealing with his grief was to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey," Stiles paused. "Well. Many bottles of whiskey, really. My own way of dealing with it was to become unhealthily obsessed with trying to keep the people I love alive. You are now facing the other end of my coping mechanism. I will not lose anyone else. Get help. Both of you, actually. Therapy, either together or separate, I don't care. But you need serious help."

After one last glare did Stiles turn his back on the two hunters. "I'll see you on Tuesday, Chris."

/break\

Tuesday and Thursday were much, much rougher in week three than they had been before. To the point that Derek growled at Stiles on Friday during their weekly pack meeting and looked ready to storm the Argent house and tear Chris apart himself. Which was flattering. Nice to see his Alpha care. He stopped Derek though, told him that this was a work in progress. Neither of the wolves liked that, but hey, it was Stiles' life and if he wanted to get beaten up by Chris then he would.

The third weekend was more subdued than. There was tension between Chris and Allison. No talking beyond instructions and criticism from Chris. Stiles was okay with that.

"I'll walk you home, Stiles," Allison offered when Sunday came to an end.

Stiles was a little wary about it, but he nodded his agreement. He grabbed his things and left wordlessly with Allison, Chris' glare burning into the back of his skull.

"You were right," Allison whispered about halfway to Stiles' place.

"I am right much more often than people give me credit for, so be a bit more specific."

"What I did to… Boyd and Erica and Isaac was… messed up," Allison avoided Stiles' gaze, head hung just a bit. "I know that. Maybe I knew it when it happened too but didn't… care. I just… I just wanted someone else to hurt, for the way I was hurting…"

Stiles nodded. "I get that. I actually do. But… that's not healthy. And it doesn't help either, does it?"

After a moment did Allison shake her head. "No. It… really didn't. All it did was make me feel worse because I was becoming the thing that I was… so afraid of. The ruthless hunter without humanity. I don't… I don't want to be that. Scott is a werewolf, Jackson is now a werewolf, Lydia is a… something. I don't want to hurt the people I care about."

"That's good," Stiles offered a small, encouraging smile. "Because that's often what happens when we don't deal with our feelings the right way. My dad… My dad didn't want to hurt me either, but him shutting me out and drinking himself into oblivion… severely fucked me up. I know that, I know I'm still fucked up about that, even if I know he didn't mean to. You need to ask for help before that happens, before the damage's done beyond repair."

The look in Allison's eyes was hopeful and lost when she looked at him. "What… do I do?"

"You need to talk to someone. Therapy, counseling, a self-help group – my dad started going to two, one for his alcoholism and one for widowers, and they really helped him," Stiles suggested gently. "But I also do think that you need to talk to your dad. Really talk to him, about all the feelings you have, the good, the bad, the angry and ugly. Because my dad and I, we were… both trying not to burden the other so we drowned in our grief alone. Don't do that. Be there for each other."

"Can I…" Allison trailed off for a long moment before gathering her courage. "Can I talk to you? About losing my mom. You know what… what it's like, and you're not a total stranger."

"As a friend? Yes. As a substitute for getting professional help? No."

"Okay," Allison nodded, looking a little more determined, before she smiled. "Thank you, Stiles. You're a good friend. And I don't just mean for offering an ear. For… calling me out to begin with. I love Scott a lot, but he instantly forgave me everything without question and it just… it just made it easier to ignore. Maybe I need someone to hold me accountable."

"Happy to do so," Stiles grinned and nudged her gently, before wincing. "I just hope your dad starts seeing the light too, because he has been rough with me."

"I'll talk to him," Allison frowned, determination in her eyes.

/break\

Week four was still tense and awkward, but Chris went back to being more gentle and mindful and the weekend was actually kind of fun. It was like something had clicked between Stiles and Allison. For the past week, they'd been texting daily, even having phone calls. Wednesday, she'd dropped by his house and they sat together in front of Stiles' bed talking about their moms and the loss for hours. For the first time, Allison wasn't just Scott's girlfriend or Lydia's best friend, for the first time, Stiles started to think of Allison as his friend too.

"Stiles?" Allison asked softly during their break on Sunday. "Would you… ask Boyd, Erica and Isaac if they'd talk to me?"

Chris, who sat a little further away from them, tensed. Watching them with a guarded expression. Stiles took a bite from his sandwich, mulling the question over in his head.

"They won't if it's just you. You'd have to compromise that Der and I will be there too."

"That's fine," Allison smiled, though it was small and a little unsure. "I just… I think that… to move forward, I need to apologize to them."

The smile Stiles aimed at her was bright and proud. "Yeah. Yeah, you do. And you can do it. I mean, if they get bitchy about it, I will be right there to hold it against them just how often they have threatened, shoved and bodily harmed me to various degrees. It's like a love language with them."

His smile turned into a playful grin to show he didn't mean it. But it was right. Erica had once knocked him out with a part of his own car. Isaac was a little bitch on his best days. Jackson had a whole history of bullying under his belt. Derek was quick to anger, threats and violence himself. The only house-trained puppy in the bunch was Boyd. So if any of them had complaints, Stiles would remind them about all the violence and threats that had already been forgiven within the pack and that grudges didn't do anyone any good.

/break\

Being a single father was much harder than Chris had anticipated. And he'd already anticipated it to be hard. But his own father's betrayal and manipulations had only made it harder on Chris. So he was a little protective of Allison. And maybe he let Stiles feel that when the boy started acting like he could give parenting advise.

At the end of summer, Chris had to admit that Stiles' parenting advise had been solid and helpful. They did start going to grief counseling, together, they started working through their feelings together. The good and the bad, as Stiles had told them. Mourning the loss while being angry about the wrong their family had done. Chris even started going to those widower meetings, after Allison told him about them, he'd reluctantly asked the sheriff for the information.

His relationship to Victoria had been complicated and long since gone cold, but he still mourned the mother of his child, the woman who had stood loyal at his side for all these years. They had shared their love for Allison and their passion for hunting and that had been enough, for many years.

Which was another thing he had to come to terms with. Followed right by his attraction to a certain mouthy, bossy twink. Coming to terms with that took, embarrassingly enough, longer than coming to terms with the fact that he hadn't been in love with his dead wife for years.

Being physically attracted to Stiles was one thing. The boy was gorgeous, that was plain to see, with his large whiskey-colored eyes, impossibly long lashes and pretty, bow-shaped mouth alone. Yes, Chris had known he was bisexual for a long time and back in the day, before Victoria, he had taken his fair share of pretty twinks home. Stiles fit his hunting scheme to a t.

It was the part where he felt more than just sexual attraction for the boy that was the problem.

Stiles had all the qualities Chris had first fallen in love with in Victoria. He was ruthless, vindictive, fiercely protective of those he loved and willing to fight tooth and nail for them. He could also cook and bake, something that Chris learned when Stiles one day declared that sandwiches were not enough and that the state of the Argent fridge was unacceptable. For some reason, Stiles started cooking for Chris and Allison on Saturdays, enough to last them the weekend. Somehow, Stiles became a part of their weekend family dinners. He became a part of their lives.

It also didn't help that Stiles was a quick study. Every week, the boy kept improving. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge, not just the theory – which Chris had also taken to teaching him; how hunters were organized and strategized – but surprisingly enough, also the practical side. Every new technique he taught Stiles, every new weapon he introduced the boy to.

Well. He didn't take to every weapon. Crossbows were out. Stiles proved too prone to accidentally shooting. Ironically enough, the boy was a damn natural with an actual gun. Then again, his dad had been taking him to the shooting range and teaching him gun safety since he was old enough to understand it, to prevent his ever-curious and accident-prone son from hurting himself.

Summer was coming to an end, this was the last Thursday before the kids' classes started and Chris had come to a decision. "Here."

Stiles turned to look at him, blinking those damn, big doe-eyes of his. "What… is that? Am I getting a graduation-from-hunter-school gift?"

He quirked his lips in that infuriating little smirk of his and Chris shoved the black box at him in annoyance. These days, after weeks of spending four days each week with the boy, most of them up close and personal, sweaty and touching, it became harder and harder to deny himself. Every little smirk made him want to kiss Stiles, every snarky comment made him want to pin Stiles against a wall and maybe kiss him senseless, maybe fuck him, maybe both.

"You are far from graduation, brat," Chris huffed. "I expect you to send me your class schedule and then figure out with me what days fit you best to continue your training. Take homework, social obligations and rest into consideration too. I don't want you to overwork yourself, Stiles."

Stiles flushed and stared at him a moment longer before curiosity got to him and he opened the box, just to gasp. "Are you kidding me, you are giving me a gun? I have been rehearsing how to best ask you for one for like weeks now! I have a whole Power Point Presentation prepared for it! Scotty, Jacks, Boyd, Erica and Isaac had to sit through it twice already."

"You don't need to convince me to give you a gun. You know how to take care of it, you have the needed respect for it, you're a… good marksman. It'd be stupid not to give you a gun and wolfsbane bullets when the whole point of this training is to keep you safe and teach you how to fight werewolves," Chris frowned. "The hand to hand and close range weapon training will help you against hunters and human attackers, but they won't help you much against werewolf strength. Your best bet is a gun and I do want you safe, Stiles."

The blush intensified and Stiles ducked his head a little. "Aw, you big softie. You have accidentally grown attached to me. Heh. My charms are just irresistible."

Chris fought a blush of his own at that because damn if that ain't the truth. With a heavy sigh did he sit down next to Stiles. He absolutely should not feel that way about a boy his daughter's age. A friend of hers, to make it worse, because of course did those two have to go ahead and actually become friends over the summer.

"Thank you," Stiles said, a little belated. "Wanna tell me what has you so… weird? You've been growing more distant lately and you sigh more often. Don't look so surprised. We've been spending a lot of time with each other, I kinda got to know you, Chris."

He grinned and bumped his shoulder against Chris' and Chris couldn't help the soft chuckle. "That's the problem. We've gotten to know each other a little too well."

He received a blank stare at that. "What does that even mean. You know we can be friends, right? You are allowed to have friends, Christopher."

"Sixteen year old friends, who go to high school with my daughter."

A careless shrug. "Eh. I am wise beyond my years. And I'm turning seventeen in like two months."

"You're turning eighteen in fourteen months then," Chris muttered before he could stop himself.

Stiles froze for a moment and then tilted his head. "That's a weird thing to immediately think of. Unless you want to be more than friends."

The moment he said it, Stiles looked mortified by his own words and clasped a hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I shouldn't have said that, I like being friends with you, I don't want to make this between us weird, please just ignore I said that, obviously does a badass, hot as hell hunter like you don't go for the awkward, rambling teen, why would you, you probably have a line-up of cougars waiting to comfort Beacon Hills' hottest DILF, oh god, just shoot me to make me stop talking, I feel like I am verbally digging myself in deeper."

Chris' eyebrows rose, very slowly and he couldn't fight the smile. By the time Stiles finally managed to shut up, Chris was genuinely laughing.

"You're too cute for both our good, Stiles," Chris chuckled.

"What," Stiles' voice croaked a little. "Cute? Me? What?"

Turning away from the boy, Chris heaved another sigh. "I might want to be more than friends. And I'm aware of what a bad idea that is."

Biting his lips, Stiles slowly reached out to rest his own hand on top of Chris'. "I mean there are plenty of non-sexual things we could be doing in the next fourteen months. Date like things. To maybe get to know each other better. Hey, I'm hiding a whole pack of werewolves from my dad, I could hide my DILF boyfriend from him too."

"I will absolutely need you to stop calling me a DILF," Chris requested with a straight face.

"What if I don't?" Stiles challenged with a teasing grin.

"I won't kiss you if you don't," Chris shrugged.

He made it sound casual but he felt more nervous than he had in years. He really did want this, did want Stiles. Fourteen months weren't all that long and there were plenty of 'non-sexual things' that he wanted from Stiles too. Stiles stared at him stunned before he dove in, crashing their mouths together in a slightly awkward but very enthusiastic first kiss that was quickly followed by a second, third, fourth and fifth. Damn, that boy was eager. Maybe Chris was going to need those fourteen months to work on his own stamina to keep up with Stiles.

/omake\

Scott was softly cursing beneath his breath as he gathered his clothes and haphazardly put them on. Allison smiled at him from her bed and just before he climbed out the window, he rushed over to kiss her. He absolutely should not have stayed the night, but Stiles had gone out to the shooting range with Chris yesterday to keep the man distracted and then Allison and Scott had kind of totally forgotten the time so when Chris got home, Scott had no way out the house again and then he may have forgotten the time again when he fell asleep in her arms. In his defense, Allison's arms were very safe and comfortable to sleep in!

Quickly and quietly did he climb out the window onto the roof to get down. Movement to his right made him freeze before he oh so slowly turned toward it, fearing that Chris had noticed him and was now coming for him. What he found was possibly even more terrifying, because it was Stiles, climbing out of Chris' bedroom, wearing one of the man's shirts.

"Dude," Scott squeaked high-pitched. "What the hell."

"Shut up," Stiles hissed back, eyes wide. "We don't want Ally to know yet. And I think you still don't want Chris to know. So. Just. Get off the damn roof and pretend you didn't see me."

Oh, Scott wished he hadn't. He also wished he didn't see the large hickey on Stiles' neck. That much for the 'great sacrifice' Stiles had been complaining about all summer and how Scott 'so owed' Stiles for distracting Chris. Hah. Didn't look like much of a hardship from this angle.

'So…" Scott trailed off when they were both on the ground and heading off the street. "You and Mister Argent? Like? For real? I just. I mean, I know you're bi, and I know you have a thing for scary people who threaten you, but Mister Argent."

"I will have you know that I have a five year plan that ends in a double wedding for the both of us, where I become your father-in-law, so do not take that tone with me, young man."

Oh, Scott so needed brain bleach and therapy after this. And more Allison hugs.

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: I present to y'all - my first Stargent ship! I was finally able to pry Peter off of them with a crowbar :D Wild to me that I'm 25 fics into Stetopher but only now got around to Stargent. There's definitely more to come, no worries ;D