A Dash Of Sarcasm, A Sprinkle Of Chaos

Chapter Seven

Feral Gremlin Meets the Avengers

Stiles regretted every decision that had led to this moment.

Okay, maybe not every decision. Just the ones involving Tony Stark, sarcasm, and agreeing to "stick around and see what happens." Because apparently, "see what happens" translated to "getting dragged to Stark Tower again, only this time to meet the entire freaking Avengers team."

"What am I doing here, Stark?" Stiles hissed as the elevator climbed to what he assumed was some kind of superhero hangout. "I thought this was a 'keep things casual' arrangement, not a 'throw Stiles to the wolves' situation."

Tony leaned casually against the elevator wall, looking entirely too smug for someone who had just blindsided him. "Relax, Stilinski. You're not being thrown to the wolves. More like… the very large, occasionally loud, and sometimes judgmental super-family. You'll be fine."

"Judgmental?" Stiles repeated, his voice rising an octave. "You couldn't have led with that? You know, given me a heads-up so I could prepare to be judged by the freaking Avengers?"

"You'll survive," Tony said with a dismissive wave. "Besides, I'm doing you a favor. If you're gonna hang around here, you might as well get the awkward introductions out of the way early."

"Oh, great. Because nothing screams 'fun bonding experience' like a bunch of superheroes staring at me like I'm a bug under a microscope."

Tony grinned, pushing off the wall as the elevator dinged. "Don't sell yourself short, kid. You've got charm. And if that doesn't work, just keep talking until they're too confused to argue with you."

"Yeah, because that's never backfired on me before," Stiles muttered as the doors slid open.

The room they stepped into was massive, sleek, and—unsurprisingly—very shiny. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a jaw-dropping view of the city, and the furniture looked like it belonged in a magazine about rich people who didn't have pets or kids.

But Stiles barely had time to process the room before his attention was yanked to the people in it.

They were all there. The Avengers.

Thor was the first to notice them, his booming voice cutting through the air like a thunderclap. "Ah, Stark! You have returned!"

"And you've brought company," Natasha Romanoff said, her sharp green eyes locking onto Stiles like she was sizing him up for a fight.

Clint Barton, who was perched on the arm of a couch, raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—this is another one of Tony's strays?"

"Hey!" Stiles said, bristling. "I am not a stray. I'm more like… a guest who's questioning all his life choices."

Clint's mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. "Yeah, that tracks."

Steve Rogers stepped forward, all Captain America and wholesome authority, offering Stiles a polite but wary smile. "Nice to meet you…?"

"Stiles," he said quickly. "Stiles Stilinski. And for the record, I didn't exactly volunteer for this. Stark has this thing where he decides things for people without asking first."

"Yeah, I do that," Tony said unapologetically.

Thor tilted his head, his long hair catching the light in a way that probably wasn't fair. "This one is small, Stark. What purpose does he serve?"

"Wow," Stiles said, crossing his arms and glaring at the literal god. "Way to make a guy feel welcome, Fabio. I don't know what purpose you serve, but I'm assuming it has something to do with looking like a walking shampoo commercial."

There was a beat of silence, and then Clint burst out laughing. "Oh, I like him."

Thor frowned, glancing at Tony. "What is a Fabio?"

"Don't worry about it," Tony said, smirking. "And for the record, Thor, Stiles here serves the all-important purpose of keeping me entertained."

"Entertained?" Natasha repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, look. I didn't come here to entertain anyone. I came here because Stark wouldn't stop badgering me about my so-called 'potential.'" He shot Tony a pointed look. "Which, by the way, you still haven't explained."

"I'm working on it," Tony said with a shrug. "In the meantime, I figured you could get to know the team. You know, start bonding."

"Bonding?" Stiles said, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You think I'm just gonna waltz in here and bond with Captain America and the gang? What do you want me to do, whip out some board games and suggest a round of Monopoly?"

"God, no," Clint said, his face scrunching in horror. "Monopoly destroys families."

"I'm not here to destroy families," Stiles said, throwing his hands up. "I'm here because Stark apparently sees something in me that I don't, and I'm too curious—or maybe too stupid—to walk away."

Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, his expression unreadable. "Well, if Stark thinks you're worth bringing here, that means something. He doesn't usually bring people into the fold without a reason."

"Exactly," Tony said, clapping a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "See? Cap gets it."

Stiles gave him a sideways look. "Cap also thinks 'fold' is a normal thing to call a group of people, so maybe let's not hold him up as the gold standard of social judgment."

Natasha snorted, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

Thor, still frowning, stepped closer to Stiles, looking him up and down like he was trying to figure out if Stiles was some kind of secret weapon. "You are strange, little one."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Stiles said dryly. "But thanks for the observation, Thor-y McThorface."

"Thor-y McThorface?" Clint repeated, cackling.

Thor crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. "Your words are odd, but your spirit is… fiery."

"Fiery?" Stiles said, raising an eyebrow. "What am I, a campfire?"

"I think he means you've got guts," Natasha said, her voice laced with amusement.

"Well, yeah," Stiles said, flashing her a quick grin. "Someone's gotta stand up to all you intimidating super-people. Might as well be me."

Natasha's smile widened just slightly. "You might actually survive here."

Stiles didn't know if that was a compliment or a threat, but he decided to take it as the former.

"Great," he said, plopping down onto the nearest couch and kicking his feet up. "So, now that the awkward introductions are over, what's the plan? Group karaoke? Trust falls? Maybe some paintball?"

Steve blinked, clearly thrown off by Stiles' energy. "Uh… we don't usually do any of that."

"Well, maybe you should," Stiles said. "Could be a bonding experience."

"Or a disaster," Natasha muttered.

"Same thing, really," Stiles said with a shrug.

Tony watched the exchange with an almost proud expression, like a dad watching his kid charm the PTA. "See? Told you he'd fit right in."

Stiles didn't know about "fitting in," but as Clint laughed again and Natasha shot him another amused look, he realized something strange.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel completely out of place.

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