chapter twenty-three

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if you're bored, like pretty colours, and enjoy running from cops; commit arson today!!

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(i hope it goes unsaid but just in case, please do not commit fucking arson...without me. shit that's still encouraging it, just don't set things on fire :))


oh and

tuesday, august 5
the lupus lacum
third person pov

"Why do I have to do this?"

Thomas cocked a hip, his eyebrows lifted as Stiles set up a target in their makeshift training area.

"Because," he shifted the target slightly, "if we're in a war, I would feel a lot better knowing you can defend yourself."

"I can bloody well take care of myself, wanker," Thomas rolled his eyes, before jerking his thumb back, "and why does everyone have to watch?"

Stiles laughed, turning to look at the group of adults all sitting on the floor in the far corner, watching them, "Ask them to leave and maybe they will."

Thomas sighed, turning to look at the Avengers, "Will you lea-"

"Nope." "No." "Hell no."

They were all shaking their heads, seemingly enjoying the whole affair, and the glee in their smiles only grew when Thomas flipped them off.

"I knew I should've said no to Fury when he promoted me, could've avoided this bullshit."

Stiles pouted, "But, baby, then you wouldn't have met me."

"I know that, you twat," the blond huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his boyfriend, "but I also wouldn't be doing this."

Stiles just kissed him, "How's that for an apology?"

Thomas glared again but it lacked any malice and he leaned back in for another.

"Oi, love birds, break it up and let's get this moving, yeah?" Thor's voice had Stiles laughing and backing up, gesturing toward the little table of weapons he planned on trying before practicing hand to hand.

"Choose your weapon."

"Bloody dork," Thomas grudgingly slid on a pair of headphones and picked up a .45'. Stiles went to show him how to check the amo and all that shit when Thomas' wrists moved smoothly and then the gun clicked, the safety off.

"Oh, okay, um," Stiles stepped back, plugging his ears as his boyfriend turned to the target and fired three times in succession.

He went to look at the target, but Thomas was already twirling a throwing dagger in his hand, tilting his head before taking a step back and sending it flying. Two more followed and then Thomas was glaring at the table, "No way in hell am I touching a fucking bow."

Clint made an offended sound, but Stiles and the rest of the Avengers, minus Nat, were too busy gawking at the target where all three bullets and two of the knives had landed in the bullseye. The third dagger had landed in the second to closest ring, barely a hairs width from the center.

mortala || stiles and the avengers (CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING)Where stories live. Discover now