Shield Me ( Stiles Stilinski X Captain America )

Mission 8:Jackson's Pain

Hospitals usually permeated strong scent of chlorine or other nose stinging cleaning agent and it always reminded Stiles of the loss he couldn't seem to overcome even after 6 years had passed. But that scent wasn't present on the medical bay of the Helicarrier. Stiles was silently thankful for that small reprieve. He was a jumble of nerves and excitement. Because really, it was the Helicarrier. Who wouldn't freak out to walk down the halls of the floating battleship? He didn't really walked per see because for some unknown reason he was too tired too even stand. Captain America who took it upon himself to be Stiles' personal gurney had carried him to the medical bay.

Despite no full disclosure of Stiles' credibility, the good Captain didn't hesitate to offer his aid. Stiles hadn't been able to protest because a) he didn't have the energy, b) he was lost in those soulful eyes again and c) he may have fantasized once or twice exactly that moment. The captain laid him on the bed with surprising gentleness. Steve assured him that he would be okay and went to join Clint and Thor across the room. Natasha went with Bruce to check on Tony's condition.

Clint on the other hand was extremely vigilant and wary of him. One wrong move and Stiles would have an arrow run through and exit skull. The guy had reasons to be that cautious and Stiles didn't blame him. No one had the right to take away anyone's will, even if they were Gods.

Phil and Jackson stayed close to him, giving the medics just enough space to do their job.

"Everything seems fine with him, except for the extremely low blood glucose level. You just need some sugar and rest." The doctor said. Stiles heard two audible sigh of relief.

"I can't move just because I'm hypoglycemic. Man, this is just embarrassing." Stiles said.

The doctor chuckled at him as he offered Stiles a glass of orange. Stiles took it and drank eagerly. Jackson automatically moved closer to him and touched his arm shoulder. Jackson was tense and there was that post traumatic protectiveness he saw on Scott around Allison after they survive the psychotic Alpha Peter scuffle.

Stiles gently grasped Jackson's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm fine, Jax. You of all the people should know that." Stiles reassured the werewolf.

But the werewolf only frowned deeper. Stiles sensed guilt and self-loathing cloaked Jackson like a burial shroud. It was bitter and cold. Jackson took his hand off Stiles but Stiles was having none of this self-loathing bullshit. He had seen it on his dad every time he drank too much. He had seen it on Derek every day. It had hungrily eaten those men, gnawing their soul, sipping their chance to recover and be happy again. Stiles wouldn't let his packmate fall into that dark pit. Never. He firmly gripped Jackson's hand, not letting it slip away.

"I... I resent everything I ever did to you in the past and whatever I did to you when I was being controlled." Jackson confessed. Everyone perked up at his statement and watched them like hawks. "I'm sorry Stiles. I could..." Jackson swallowed thickly and looked away. "I could have...."

"It's okay, Jax." Stiles said, shaking the Jackson's hand.  

"It's not okay! I almost killed you! For two times!" Jackson mournfully said and his eyes flashed blue. He clenched his hands and blood started dripping from them.

Stiles immediately sat up and grabbed the werewolf's fists. "Hey, hey. Jax, look at me. Look at me." Jackson hesitantly faced to him. "I'm alive, breathing and talking. And it wasn't you fault. You didn't have a choice."

"But you tried to tell me but I didn't listen. And look what happened. I killed those people. Because I didn't listen to you."

"No one listens to me, Jackson." Stiles joked.