Archive of Our Own ^beta

There are murmurs from the wizards who had been practicing around himself immediately. Kamar-Taj was their oldest, most fortified sanctum. All magic began and would return there, at some point. An intruder at such a place was virtually unheard of: the news hits his heart like a blade.

"Take me there," He says, and Wong explains as he walks by: Kamar-Taj is fortified by repelling charms and various magics. It had recently taken a new form, after Dormammu's attacks, to try and ward off his lingering and remaining followers. It now looked like a souvenir shop in the heart of Kathmandu, but enchanted so that tourists and locals lose interest and always turn around before they enter."

"But this girl-" Wong says, looking troubled, "She walked in here like she was drawn to it."

"A girl?" Strange stops in his tracks, noticing Wong's choice of words. "You're freaking out over a teenager?"

"She's in her mid-teens. The worst kind." Wong mutters, and he doesn't really have anything to say against that. As they reach the door to the Sanctum, Steven strides ahead and pushes the door open, and as he looks around the enclosed space of the main hall, he falters. 

"Wong," he says carefully. The area was untouched. Not wanting to imply that he thought his fellow magician had been lying, he tries to keep his tone as understanding as possible, "Where is the intruder?"

"She was here!" He insists, looking just as confused. He whirls around, frowning.

"Wong..." Strange says.

"I would not lie!" He says testily, and Strange sighs. 

"Maybe you were mistaken." Stephen tries to appeal, and begins walking away when something clatters to the ground. When he turns, he sees nothing but a spire from an artefact rolling on the ground, but he shoots Wong a look, apologetic. 

'Maybe I was mistaken,' He tries to convey his sentiments with a sheepish shrug, careful not to let the (invisible...?) intruder know he was onto her. Wong rolls his eyes, and begins to make a show of leaving. Stephen follows suit, and when he hears a quiet but audible sigh of relief from behind them, Wong and himself exchange a look.

Quietly lifting his hand so his palm was right in front of his eyes, Stephen tells himself to concentrate behind his body, and locate the telltale source of mystic energy. He feels the invisibility spell radiating off of the intruder, rash and self-taught magic. Channelling energy into his vision and his hands, he wills himself to see past the glamour, past the charm. 

Pushing his palm outwards, almost like taking off a blindfold, his clear-sight spell takes hold. Stephen feels the untrained magic break down under the stress of his more practiced spell, he turns to see who the culprit is. 

You can't be more than sixteen, and you're currently stuffing as many knives and shiny things as you can hold into your very scruffy coat. The shoes you're wearing are beat up, and Stephen swears he can smell you from all the way across the room. His doctor-instincts come back with such force that he has half a mind to march over there and force you into a bathtub. Wong falters behind him.

"I didn't realise she looked..." Wong whispers to him, still staring at you.

"Like she's a sewer dweller?" Strange mutters, "Like she's on death's door?"

Wong says nothing. Of course it was like him to empathise with her after tattling. Strange sighs, snapping his fingers and willing the Cloak to hide: it would probably be best to appear as a normal human being, and not the Sorcerer Supreme to you. Mustering up all the authority figure energy he can into himself, he approaches and catches your hand just as it's taking another knife off the weapons rack. "What are you doing?"

He startles you: You snatch your arm out his grip, and drop the artefact you had been holding, and dropped it so quickly that Strange wondered if it had been on fire. He watches with mild exasperation as you tuck a bronze disc deeper into your inside pocket, wondering if you knew how obvious you were being, or if you were just stupid.

"You can see me?" You say, surprised.

Strange squints. So you could control your magic to some point, and you were aware of it- all without any guidance. Even if you're stealing from the most holy site on Earth for the mystic arts, he has to admit that it's remarkable. "Should I not be able to?"

"Uh-" You decide against looking like you're insane, "No...?"

"I see," He says flatly. He expected a little more from a girl talented enough to break past magic locks, cloak herself and then walk into Kamar-Taj. "Let me ask again: what are you doing here?"

"Browsing," You lie unconvincingly, "This is a souvenir store, isn't it? Also, you guys have weird souvenirs. Uh, also also, do you guys own this place?"

"More or less," Strange replies, and you blink.

"You can't 'more-or-less' own a business." You blurt out, and then realise you should be a little more respectful, adding, "Sir."

"That's fair," He sighs, "Yes, I own this business."

"Why does a white guy sell weird looking souvenirs in Nepal? Was the national parks not enough?" You say, mostly to yourself but it's loud and clear that you want an answer. Strange stares at you, trying to figure out if he thought you were funny or just rude. He must have made a pretty severe face, because you blanche and add, "Uh, sorry if that was reaching, Sir."

"My ego's taken bigger hits. And to answer your question, I inherited it." Stephen says, wondering if it's a good idea to indulge your stupid question. Wong rubs his temples, and exhales quickly through his nose, irritation visible. 

"What's in your coat pocket?" Wong asks sternly. He seems to have forgotten about being nice to you now that he's remembered you're a thief.

"Oh, this thing?" You hold up a the bronze disc, as easy as if you were just a car realtor about to close off on a deal. Strange has a sudden urge to let you walk away, but that thought makes him realises it's magic. You must have discreetly cast a spell that weakened the will: Strange casts a counterspell and his mind clears. Unfortunately for you, Wong was stubborn as a bull, and when he raised an eyebrow, there was no doubt in his mind that Wong hadn't felt any of that magic: his own powers had filtered and gotten rid of your magic before it even got the chance to take hold. It was testament to how long Wong had been studying the art, and how proficient he was with it. 

Still, to be careful..."Let's not try that again," Strange said, narrowing his eyes. Surprised once again, you gulp and nod. "Give that back to us."

You frown. Strange and Wong were imposing figures, so why couldn't you just hand it over to them... "Uh, why?"

"It's not yours, trash-raccoon." Strange rolls his eyes. 

"It doesn't work right." You say, ignoring the insult and tapping the artefact with your free hand. The disc begins pulsing with energy and humming in your hand, but having detected your magic, it doesn't hurt you. You're also not flinching, so Strange thinks maybe you lost your survival instinct some years ago. "I think it's broken. It keeps buzzing. I didn't break it, by the way, I found it like that." You tag the last sentence on quickly, flushing. 

"It's not broken." Stephen feels his own patience thinning. He tries not to put other people down for simply not-knowing things: it's a hard habit to break, and he's had it since he was still a surgeon- but it's just so hard. If people were just smarter, his life would be so much easier.

"I don't know many alarm clocks that don't stop ringing," You purse your lips. Momentarily stunned, he fights off the bark of laughter: when he arrived to stop an intruder, he hadn't expected them to be all bite and wit. He doesn't know what's funnier: your tongue, or the fact you've mistaken a weapon of mass destruction for an alarm clock.

"Stop distracting her." Wong says, "Why was it in your coat pocket?"

"Just... saving it for later." You lie terribly again. 

"You were saving a broken alarm clock?"

"Maybe I'd get a discount."

"Put it back. The broken alarm clock is not for sale."

"It's broken." You say flatly. "You should just let me have it."

"I..." Wong pauses, before he rests a hand on Stephen's arm. "My friend here is emotionally attached to it."

"Wong..." Strange says dangerously.

"It's okay, I know how much it means to you."

He rolls his eyes. “Kid, just give it back.”

You stare at them, clearly not impressed but aware that you were outnumbered, then decide to shuffle towards them. You have a hand outstretched, the buzzing disc dropped into Wong's hand, and he sighs.

“Thank you. Now the rest of it?” He asks, and suddenly, your expression flashes. 

And then you punch his face, Wong doubles over and Stephen summons mandalas to protect him. You shoot a bolt of magic at him- untrained and unfocused, but with so much power behind it that it doesn’t fizzle out like most beginner magic. When he blocks it, the impact sends him flying backwards.

You grit your teeth, “Sorry, guy.” And you hold one hand in the position like you were going to summon a portal, but you have no sling ring-

Oh, you continue to surprise.

It’s not elegant by any means, but you’re using your other hand to summon magic and quite literally tear through reality with it. He can see what looks like Hong Kong on the other side of your ugly portal: Sling rings were a safe way- but the portal you’re creating is spitting sparks at odd intervals, shaky at best and wobbly. And it seems to be taxing you, too- Strange can feel your magical energy being spent up and fizzle out.

With a grunt, Wong throws a mandala at you and your stumble as it hits you: you gain your footing again, but Strange is faster- more like the cloak is faster, because the relic sensed his need to block your path and flew him right in front of your way.

You shout, falling backwards onto your butt and gape at him. “Sir, what the fuck!” Less a question and more an exclamation, he notes.

“Really,” He says, expanding his magic and shutting off your portal. He’s impressed, sure, but you don’t have a clear enough grasp on how to even keep it open that it’s easy for him to pick at the crude magical “stitching” and pull it undone. “Let’s not do that again.”

“You’re floating,” You say, dumbstruck.

“If you haven’t guessed, I’m like you.”

“The sparky shit? That’s different. I’ve never flown before.” You ask, and Strange swallows the laugh again.

“Magic,” He corrects, not unkindly. “What you can do is impressive: who taught you this? Well, it’s nothing to a trained magician, but if you want to be like us-“

You frown then, though your eyes dart to his boots floating off the ground, "I'm nothing like you. I steal, I run, and I annoy.” You say, though you're still distant because most of your attention is taken up by staring at his feet. Stephen wonders for a second if he should come with a warning: Don't Panic, I Fly! 

Awkwardly, as if you were really trying to convince him that you were as different as day and night, you tack on- “I’m also homeless?”

"And I'm Doctor Strange,” He says: you smirk at that, but your face falls as he continues, “but you didn't answer my question."

“No one taught me.” You say, finally standing up and folding your arms. “I learnt because I needed to.”

“What happened that made you need the Mystic Arts?” Strange asks, and you grit your teeth.

“New York, 2012.” You say, and Stephen feels a sudden pang of pity. “Loki killed my parents with some rubble. When a rock flew at me, I thought I was going to die: but I landed in London.”

Strange’s brows raise, thinking back to the places he knows you can teleport yourself to: Hong Kong, Kathmandu, London, New York. Kathmandu was an outlier, but it was also home to Kamar-Taj. You have power, but without training, you've only been able to take yourself to the places where magic is the strongest.

“Your magic reacted instinctively." He gasps, realising, "You needed to be somewhere safe, so sent yourself towards a Sanctum.”

“I don’t know what that is,” You frown, “But it took me a year to figure out how to go back. And by the time I got back there, our stupid landlord rented the place out. So I was stuck with nowhere to go and no home, so sorry if I’m stealing, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get caught.”

Wong stares at you. “You’re not making this up?”

“Yeah, that was my 5 minute story to distract you and run away from you,” You roll your eyes, “I’ve got no energy left to fight. I don’t care what you do. Turn me over to the police, if you want.”

“And let you escape from holding? So you can cause a scene by ripping a hole in reality to run away?” Strange guffaws, stroking his beard, “Absolutely not.”

“Would be funny,” You shrug.

“We’re not imprisoning a child,” Wong titters- Stephen wants to call him out on being a big softie, but he’s thinking the same. Your case just sucked. How was he supposed to blame you for an alien invasion that uprooted your entire life?

“You eaten anything?” Strange asks finally, and you frown.

“Yeah,” You say stubbornly, and then your stomach growls. “No.”

Stephen raises a brow. “Want something? Kamar-Taj has got the best momo.”

Your mouth drops. “...Are you serious?” 

Wong seems supportive, smiling a little as he says, “We are not as mean as you.”

“Aw, says the Taurus.” You snort, smirking at him.

“How- How did you know that-“

“We can give you a place here, kid.” Stephen interrupts, and you sober up, the disbelief on your face makes him amused and sad at the same time. He sizes you up, willing the Cloak to set him back down onto the floor. “You’re talented as it is, and it’ll be fun to see another guy from New York around.”

“Manhattan?” You ask quietly, and he grins.

“Manhattan.” He confirms, and then says, “But we can’t let you steal. You’ll be fighting for stuff bigger than you realise. No more of- the raccoon thing.”

“You’re really working up a tough deal here-“

“I’m Stephen Strange,” He tells you, sticking a hand out. He hopes he can wear that mouth off after a few years of monk-tutelage. “And you are?”

You stare at the hand, before sighing- and he watches a weight come off your shoulders before you grasp it firmly and introduce yourself.

Stephen nods, “Nice to meet you, apprentice.”

“Back ‘atcha, Master Jedi.” You reply.

“Give me my relics back.” Says Wong.

 

---

 

You are a prodigy, Stephen knew this. But he really didn't expect you to be good as him.

Unlike him, you've never had a problem with believing in magic. Stephen had seven years of medical school telling him exactly what was possible for him: what incisions he could make, what would kill a patient, what he could fix and what was a lost cause. He had to unlearn all that rigid thinking to open his mind up to the Mystic Arts, to be able to command reality and shape it what he needed it to be. Not so different from surgery... but that was like saying that since basketball was a sport, Kobe should be great at water polo.

Meanwhile, you had seen a big-ass alien dragon materialise out a hole in the sky, and the shock made you accidentally teleport yourself to jolly old London. 

You had gotten yourself back by ripping a hole in the fabric of space and time, all at the tender age of 13. Because, in your words:

"I did it once, so I knew I could. And I needed to go back." You told him, shrugging as you poured over a magical tome. Stephen wishes he could think as simply as that.

Now you were based out of Manhattan's sanctum, as he was. You had gotten a sling ring and then complained about how it would made your life easier: Hong Kong, Kathmandu, and London were still the easiest for you to teleport to, but that was the usual for most magicians. And you could go anywhere you wanted as this point: he'd shown you a postcard of Cancun, and you had easily opened a portal to a discreet root top overlooking the beach.

You excelled at using mandalas: you preferred the using them offensively, rather than the defensive positions that they're supposed to be used for, but they're effective and Strange is a doctor. He had hated his stuffy professors in university, when they stopped him from doing work he knew was right: Strange wasn't about to stop you from experimenting if you're succeeding. (You also had a penchant for throwing them like Captain America, which was always fun to see.)

Then there was the whip: you weren't fantastic at it, but you were improving. You liked it a lot better when you had something solid in your hands, and preferred to get your hands on any weapon when sparring with other initiates. Bo staff, katar, spear- whatever wasn't claimed was yours. You still weren't the best at those, but he knew how secure you felt with something physical to attack. For a while, you couldn't always rely on magic, so you were very good at using improvised weapons. Stephen hoped he could get you to feel welcome enough that you eventually dropped your insistence on a weapon.

The rate you study and get better with magic reminded him of... well, himself and the Sorcerer Supreme.

Difference was, you looked at him almost hesitantly every time you did something right. And then you looked away, as if reminding yourself that you didn't need his approval.

Stephen claps you on the back every time you do something particularly good (which was often, anyway...) and tells you, "Good job."

Your grin makes it worth it every time. A few months at the Sanctum, with good food and an actual bed has made you a lot healthier than you had looked when he first met you. He's glad you're happier.

Stephen thinks he's going soft.

 

---

 

You're on East 17th when a red and blue blur flies past you and slams into a streetlamp. Passerbys scream and turn tail to run, and you wonder why the New Yorkers haven't moved out of this awful city yet. It certainly wasn't the real estate prices...

"Get outta here, get outta here, get outta here!" Spider-Man shouts, trying to get back up on his feet. The bad guy with a superweapon jumps almost comedically into your field of vision, and then uses the superweapon to shoot at him. Spider-Man deftly jumps out the way, but the blast hits the Barnes and Nobles and you suddenly feel very angry on behalf of your borough.

Before the guy can do any more damage, you summon whips to your hand and bind him, and with a grunt, throw him into the air and then back onto the tarmac. The man grunts, fixing a glare onto you and then points the gun at you- you sling-ring the pulse of energy into deep space, and hope it doesn't hit any random alien.

"Whoa!" Spider-Man gasps, and you grin and give him a thumbs up. In your stupid distraction for a rookie hero, the thug lands a very solid punch to your jaw that sends you stumbling back.

"Man, not cool!" Spider-Man yells, slinging a web onto his face and catching his attention. If you were more conscious, you probably could have better appreciate the stunning display of acrobatics he pulls to dodge the plasma blasts from his gun. As he's lining up another shot, you use the binding spell to grab his weapon away and to you.

Surprised, the bad guy turns to you, stunned, but you throw the weapon into the mirror dimension before he has the idea to snatch it back. Letting out an indignant roar, he loses interest in Spider-Man and runs like a bull towards you, and you duck out of his barrage of punches.

This guy is trained, you realise with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You try to deflect his heavier attacks by letting them fall onto your mandalas, which soften the blow, but each hit makes you lose more ground. You send a pulse of magic to push him backwards, buy yourself time- but he's got a lot more stamina than you and catches right back up before you can take the breather you need. You hate that you feel yourself slowing down, and unfortunately, he hits you square on your jaw: this time, the force sends you to the ground.

"That's no way to treat a lady!" You hear Spider-Man yell. Even groaning on the floor, you think that's a little much. You're vaguely aware from the spinning vision that he's doing a lot better than you are: enhanced reflexes, you realise. Not just a crazy kid in a suit. Unlike you, Spider-Man even manages a few solid hits that seem to slow the bad guy down- but as your vision clears, you can tell that this friendly neighborhood superhero is starting to tire out. He needs help.

You summon and enlarge a mandala, casting a few charms before throwing it at the big bad, "Hey, ugly!"

The big dumb criminal looks at you, nostrils flaring. Spider-Man meets your eyes, and you gesture towards a bike you had seen: hit him with the stupid thing! Knock him out! You hope he gets the message, focus your attention back to Mr. Big Bad, and summon a whip to restrain him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

The man turns to you with narrowed eyes and he looks like he's about to barrel towards you again when-

thunk!

A webbed car slams into him, and he crumples. The car lands about a feet away. ...A car?! Your jaw drops. That's so cool! You didn't know Spider-Man was that strong.

Bug Boy thwips a few webs so that the guy is securely on the floor, and you jog towards him, raising a palm. "Nice!"

Spider-Man giggles, giddy off winning the fight, and high fives you hard, "Nice!"

And then you hear the telltale sirens of the NYPD from a few blocks away, and a now panicked Spider-Man stares at you.

"Don't suppose you can teleport?" He asks timidly, and you laugh before summoning a portal and dragging him through it.

 

---

 

"So, what do they call you? Kid Arachnid?" You ask him, settling on the roof you guys had picked after grabbing a hot dog. No one did hot dogs like New York.

"Spider-Man," He corrects you seriously. He has half his mask up and ketchup on the side of his lip. With enormous effort, you hold down on the laugh.

"Kidding. There's no one in New York who hasn't heard of you." You smile at him, apologetic. "So, what are you doing in Manhattan? I thought Queens and Brooklyn was more your thing."

"There was this big thing a few months back, where they were stealing tech from the 2012 invasion." Spider-Man said quietly, "That tech was being taken back to Queens to be experimented on, but there was still a lot of unfinished prototypes and stuff, still in Manhattan."

"Oh, that reminds me-!" With a wave of your hand, you open the dimension and drop the gun next to him. With your free hand, you push the weapon towards him, "I figure you have somewhere to take this."

"Forgot about that," Spider-Man says sheepishly, "But I'll take it to the Compound. The Avengers are trying to round up all the guys that were involved, and a lot of them are in Brooklyn. And you know, instead of coming quietly, they're using what tech is left behind to try and bust out."

"Oh," You say, and suddenly seeing all the disciples in and out made a lot more sense. You've cursed being an initiate magician before, but never as much as right now. You really wish you were told things like this- You also wish it were easier to get mad at Stephen, who had told you when you complained once:

"You'll get there. You just have to keep working hard and soon, you'll become a disciple and you'll get to find out about all the magical things that we're defending. But you're not ready yet."

Which unfortunately made sense to you, and you weren't fond of getting in over your head and getting killed. 

Understanding was easy. Not getting mad about it was different though.

"Oh." Spider-Man pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Did nobody tell you?"

"My mentor- uh, my dad, I guess." You say, "I'm not ready. As if I'm ever gonna be."

"I get it. Mr. Stark kept telling me that too, and turns out he always believed in me. He was the guy who gave tips to the FBI, and defended me-"

"Wait," You say frowning, "He didn't tell you that he told anyone?"

"...No?" Spider-Man replies, confused.

"Then how were you supposed to know that anyone was listening to you?" You blink. "My mentor tells me what's going on if I ask." Which was true- you hadn't asked about the comings and goings because there was a lot of them, so you weren't really mad about not being told about the New York wide alien tech cleanups. That was actually probably some of the more boring cases the Sanctum had been deployed on.

Any direct question you've ever asked Stephen, he's told you the whole truth. And you knew he liked when you came with on missions, since you weren't as stuffy as the rest of the magicians. The only times he stops you from using magic and coming on missions is when he knows it's too much- so you're cool with that. And you like that about him a lot.

"I'm just saying, it's stupid of Stark to think you've got telepathy. You were doing what you thought was right. It was their fault for not letting you know they had it handled." You bow your head, chuckling, "I respect you way more than them. You knew the odds, and you still jumped in to help. That's brave."

Spider-Man stares at you, dumbfounded. You realise you kinda made fun of his boss and the entire Avengers in a few short sentences, and the embarrassment hits you like the car he'd swung. Apologise, quickly! "Um, sorry-"

"No, don't!" Spider-Man shakes his head, grinning now, "My aunt said something like that too."

"Oh." You say. "Cool."

He shovels the rest of his food down his throat, and with a full mouth says, "I could really go for another hot dog."

You smile. "Same."

"And you could come patrol with me, too?" He asks, swallowing so fast you worry that he might choke, "Till you have to get home? Or like- to your wizard tower?"

Wizard tower, You think amusedly, but you just smile. "That sounds good."

 

---

 

"So... I keep a watchlist of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world: your adoptive brother Loki is one of those beings."

"He's a worthy inclusion," Thor says, sipping his beer.

He's met Dormammu, but if Stephen wouldn't be entirely lying if he said that he possibly found Thor more annoying than the primordial ruler of the Dark Dimension. 

"Why bring him here?" He asks sternly, leaning in. 

"We're looking for my father."

Family drama affected Asgardians as much as it affected humans, apparently. "So... if I were to tell you where Odin was, all parties concerned would promptly return to Asgard?"

"Promptly."

"Great! Then I'll help you."

"If you knew where he was, why didn't you call me?"

Stephen flashes back to having to confront a 80 year old man and being unsure the entire time if he was senile or not. Gods enjoyed speaking in a way so that whatever they said only made sense to themselves. The gist he had gotten then was that he would have liked to be left alone, and in exile from Asgard: he relays that much to Thor, who looks troubled.

"Also," he adds bitterly, "You don't have a phone."

"No, I don't have a phone. But you could have sent an electronic letter, it's called an email?"

"Yeah, do you have a computer?"

"No, what for?" Thor says shortly, and Stephen thinks he's definitely more annoying than Dormammu.

"Uh-huh." Stephen says instead of vocalising said thoughts.

"Anyway, my father is no longer in exile, so if you could tell me where he is, I'll take him home."

"Gladly. He is in Norway." Stephen teleports them- a tricky spell that required no need for a sling ring, but one that he's recently mastered and enjoys using to scare people (read: Wong). It's also worth it to see non-magical people have to adjust themselves, and just as he flips through the right book-

“Stephen, I got- Thor!” You step into the sanctum using your sling ring, forgetting completely about Stephen. “How are you doing?”

“Kid, we’re in the middle of something here,” Stephen sighs, and you roll your eyes.

“I was just delivering your Starbucks. You're cranky when you don't get your coffee, old man.”

Stephen blinks. “That’s- uh, thanks.”

“You drink Starbucks?” Thor asks.

What, you don’t?” Calm down, Strange, he tells himself, you’re being way too defensive.

"Aw, cranky cause you don't want the strongest Avenger to know you drink Starbucks?" You laugh, and he swears he could strangle you.

"I'm not embarrassed," Strange scowls and mutters at the same time that Thor hides a smile and says to himself, "Strongest Avenger?"

“And I felt someone falling in an infinite pocket dimension,” You say, inquisitive as always. “Something I should know about?”

“Just Loki,” Stephen says gently.

Your face hardens, “Serves him. I’m gonna leave before I do something stupid like open the portal and try to stab him, soo... I’ll go to Hong Kong and grab some bubble tea.”

Stephen sighs and tosses you his wallet. “Use the Visa, please.” And then he pauses, “And ask Wong if he wants any, he’ll sulk if you don’t bring him any.”

“Can do, Qui Gon!” You say, opening another portal and stepping in.

Thor stares at the spot you disappeared, before looking at him sympathetically. “I understand that teenagers can be... taxing.”

“Yes, but I unfortunately care about this one in particular.” Stephen says, snapping the book shut. "The spell doesn't need any Asgardian modifications.”

---

 

"Boba?" You ask, lifting a drink towards him as you sling ring into the sanctum again.

"Ah, no thank you," Thor declines politely, getting off the floor.

"Wong wouldn't have liked that," Strange raises a brow towards you, folding his arms and stepping away from the Norway portal, "That's his."

"I'd have gotten him another," You say defensively, then you sling-ring away to the other side of the Sanctum, too lazy to walk the whole way. Through the portal, Wong perks up, bustling towards the girl he's begun to see as a daughter to claim his drink. You step through and the portal snaps shut, a few loose sparks hissing before spluttering out.

"I think you all should learn to walk sometime." Thor says, brushing himself off. 

"You're just jealous you can't teleport." Stephen says simply, "Now, don't forget your umbrella."

 

---

 

"You met Thor?" Spider-Man gasps, and you can hear his grin even if you can't see it. You're on your third hot dog each, having caught a few street muggers and left them for NYPD. Not as cool as the interdimensional creature that you had fought together with three other initiates and banished to the Mirror Dimension, but you were with Spider-Man, which changed things. You've never seen his face, but you think he's sweet, cute, and he always does the right thing. You figure he's probably dating someone, with him being such a fun guy, but you've got your fingers crossed. (You also really hope he's not ugly under that mask.)

"I think my dad sorta antagonised him." You say simply, shrugging. Spider-Man gasps in mock-affront, and you laugh. "Also, turns out he doesn't like boba!"

"...Seriously?"

"I know right. Thor should get taste."

"Still, he's so pretty!" He says, sighing. "I've met like, all the other Avengers, and they're not as pretty up close. Oh, I guess Falcon is, though."

"He's on the run, right?" You say conversationally, and he sighs. 

"Yup. I still think that entire airport parking lot fight was super weird." He bites a piece off his hot dog before continuing, "They seemed like friends. And they really didn't seem like they really wanted to fight."

"Cap probably needed to stand his ground." You say, and Spider-Man gapes at you.

"You're Team Cap?" Hand on his heart, he's the picture of astonishment.

You snort, "It took you this long to figure it out? I'm only your friend to gain intel on Iron Man!" You punch him on the arm for effect.

Spider-Man makes a noise halfway between a cackle and an 'ow', and punches you back- and it hurts!

"That's only funny when you don't have super strength!" You wince, and Spider-Man blushes and begins to apologise over and over-

His ringtone interrupts, and you wave him off to take the call. He gives you one more 'I'm Sorry' face, before picking up.

"Ned!" He says, smiling. You've heard of this famous Ned. Spider-Man's best friend that came up hundreds of times during your rooftop conversations. "...Yeah, I'm out with the sorcerer again! No, I'm not making her up... no, I'm not! Wait, I'll let you talk to her yourself..."

And Spider-Man puts his phone on speaker mode, and in a loud, clear voice, his best friend Ned says-

"- I swear to god, Peter Parker, you are lying!" Ned sounds like he's teasing.

Your eyes go wide. "Peter Parker?"

Static on the line, then, "Oops."

"Call you back." Peter says abruptly, ending the call and then frantically waves his hands at you. "This- uh, this is a misunderstanding. Peter Parker is a fake name. It's like a funny nickname because no parent would ever alliterate their kid's name-" You wonder if Stephen would take offence to that, but Peter keeps rambling- "and I don't even know an actual Peter in real life! I just-"

You say your full name.

"...What?" Peter asks dumbly.

You repeat it, grinning, shoving a hand in front of him. "Nice to meet you properly, Peter Parker."

He stares. And then he sighs, nods and shakes your outstretched hand. "Least now you won't be 'Maleficent' in my phone anymore."

"And you won't be 'bug boy'!" You grin. Peter laughs, and then pulls his mask off quickly, like ripping a band aid. And you get that- so many superheroes were superheroes by profession. Peter was one of the few who worried about his identity and who he was without the mask: you figure the nerves are because he hasn't revealed his face very often. Your heart beats a little faster when you realise he trusted you enough to do so.

The unmasking reveals a mop of brown hair and hazel eyes. Oh no.

Peter looks sheepish, "I know what you look like, and I figure since you know who I am, I should just get rid of the stuffy mask."

"Oh god," You pretend to cower, shielding your face with your hands. "Put it back on!"

"You deserved that punch."

"Hey!"

(You're happy to report that he is not ugly.)

 

---

 

Stephen takes you to the New York invasion monument at your asking. You had avoided this place for years, even years back when you were hopping from one Sanctum city to the next. 74 deaths: you stare at where your name is etched onto the marble, having being presumed dead, right underneath your parents. The entire city of New York, and only 74 people were dead. You wish, bitter and ugly, that it had been anyone else. Out of the 1.6 billion, it had to be your family.

"Flowers?" Stephen asks, conjuring them up with his magic. And you stare at him, and think that you're lucky you met him.

Where would you be without Stephen Strange? Still running around, trying not to get caught, with volatile magic that hurt to use. Stephen had picked up that you didn't like using the whip, or at least you were hesitant to summon it: you had burnt yourself with it once, having accidentally summoned it when trying to defend yourself on the streets of New York. You didn't dislike it- you hated using that branch of magic when you had started. A reminder of your shoddy magic, the same poor abilities that only managed to save yourself and had left your parents to die in New York.

But with the precision and mind of a surgeon, Stephen had helped you past your fear and anger. He'd helped you grow stronger, master your abilities, and help you find a place you could call home. He'd grown into a father-figure a lot faster than you wanted him to- it felt like you were betraying your parents.

He was so kind. You wish that he knew it.

"Kid?" He asks quietly, vanishing the flowers so he could put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You can cry. I don't mind."

You swallow thickly and throw your arms around him. Big brain move on your part, since this way, he couldn't see the tears.

"Thank you for everything." You say, muffled by his suit. "You don't- you don't know what this means to me, what you mean to me-" You stop yourself from being too sappy. "A-and my parents-"

"Kid," He says quietly, slowly putting his arms around you again, "I'm never going to replace them. I don't want to replace them. Change happens whether we like it or not. And I do want to help you, and I want you to get better. Alright? I'm not gonna leave you."

He shifts you gently away from him, hands on your shoulders. "Okay?"

"Yeah." You say, sniffing. "I'm sorry about your suit."

"I was a doctor, I made six figures." He smiles, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. "I'll buy another. Now-" He uses one hand to summon the bouquet again. "Do you want candles?"

The mundanity of the question startles you into laughing, "Just the flowers are good."

And after you place them at the foot of the plaque, Stephen puts an arm around your shoulder- you settle into his side, sighing.

"You're tough," He says, "You got moved forward, got through it. Now you have to accept it."

"Did it in the wrong order, huh?" You mumble, and Strange smiles at you.

"Yes," He begins, looking wry, "But you've never been traditional."

 

---

 

You were really determined to at least dislike MJ. She was supposed to be a rival for your affections, right? But by the end of meeting her (and meeting Ned, who was cool too but MJ could eclipse the sun, as far as you were concerned) how were you supposed to hate her?

"The sunset is beautiful." Peter says quietly.

"You know who else is beautiful?" You ask him softly.

"MJ." You both say at the same time.

 

---

 

"You're not really going to go get Tony Stark in that, are you?" You ask him as he begins to open a portal to New York- and Stephen actually freezes on the spot. 

"The cape is important," Stephen says chidingly, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm talking about the dishwashing gloves," You say, unimpressed. "They're ugly."

"They're magical!" Stephen defends.

"They're yellow."

"No one used them because no one wanted to wear them," Wong shrugs.

"Stark would make fun of you." You say.

"You're making fun of me." Stephen frowns.

"Take off the gloves, Strange." Wong says.

He takes off the gloves.

"Ready when you are," Bruce says awkwardly.

 

---

 

When Mr. Stark had mentioned wizards, he had thought of you, but Peter hadn't thought you were actually going be be here. Now that you weren't on the verge of a heart attack at seeing your mentor at the mercy of a butt-ugly alien and multiple needles, you and Peter were making your way up the part of the spaceship where you could hear Tony Stark and your mentor arguing.

"Unlike everyone else in your life, I don't work for you." Peter hears the magician scoff, and you snicker.

"And due to that fact, we're now in a flying donut, billions of miles from Earth with no backup." Mr Stark shoots back.

"I'm backup!" Peter offers, and Tony looks close to death.

"No, you're a stowaway." Tony waves a dismissive hand, "The adults are talking."

"I'm sorry," Your mentor frowns, looking between Peter and Mr. Stark, "I'm confused as to the relationship here- wh, what is he, your ward?"

"Hey!" You defend from beside him, "Peter is cool."

"Peter?" Strange says dangerously. 

"Parker." Peter adds quickly, "I'm Peter Parker."

"Doctor Strange." He introduces himself shortly. Peter looks awkward at that-

"Oh, we're using our made up names? Um, I'm Spider-Man, then."

Strange gives him a long suffering look before briefly looking at you with a 'we have to talk' look, and then moving away to continue arguing with Mr. Stark. Peter only catches fragments of the conversation between the low humming of the engines and their low voices-

"If it comes to saving you, or your kid, or the time stone, I will not hesitate to let either of you die. I can't, because the universe depends on it." Strange tells him, glaring. Ouch, Peter thinks. 

"And not your kid?" Tony asks, and Strange glances at you. Peter watches your expression shift- 

"Not mine," Strange replies simply, "She's too smart to die." 

Peter watches a small smile come over your face. Not for the first time, he thinks it's very pretty.

"Nice, good, moral compass." Tony says sarcastically, and then tromps over to him, startling Peter out of staring at you.

"Alright, kid-" He puts an arm on his left shoulder then his right in a weird imitation of a knighting, "You're an Avenger."

(Caught up in the moment, he does not catch you staring at his smile the same way he had been looking at you.)

 

---

 

"Why would you do that?" Tony stares at him in disbelief, anger. He knows who he is thinking of: Pepper, Rhodey, Happy. He is lucky that none of them die in the future he saw. He is lucky that he doesn't lose everyone, like others do. Stephen thinks that's a clinical way to think, but he was a doctor. These particular statistics just happened to have names.

"We're in the Endgame now." Strange says, looking straight at him and as he's struggling to stand, he hears you calling for him. Just like how Peter is beginning to clear away rubble to get to Stark, Stephen watches you fight a head injury to try and find him.

“Tony,” Strange begins, a far off look in his eyes as he stares at the place you disappeared, "There was no other way.” He feels himself begin to fade away too. This is the Endgame, he thinks to himself. He has to his infuriating daughter again- he has to.

 

---

 

When he gets back to Earth, Rhodes is the one who takes care of him. Tony has always been touchy about how Pep sees him, and he swears he doesn't mind, but he wants to be strong for her. And Rhodey had seen him at his best and his worst, and sharing your feelings with your best friend is a lot different from sharing them with your fiance.

They're sharing a bottle of scotch the first time he can bring himself to talk about Peter.

"I couldn't save the kid." Tony says, angry at himself. "And he had to see his friend die. I had to watch her die too."

"Hey," Rhodey lays what Tony thinks is supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder, "There was nothing you could have done. And it was Strange who took her to space, it's not your fault."

"Are you really telling me to blame that kid's death on her dad?" Tony says, spluttering a laugh in spite of himself. If Rhodes could blanch, Tony is sure he would have.

"I didn't mean- that." Rhodey sighs, looking troubled. "But this job comes with risks. Kiddo didn't send themselves into space not knowing about it."

Tony isn't sure if he's talking about Peter or you. The guilt weighs on him regardless.

 

---

 

You gasp- hadn't you just been dying?

Stephen helps you up, and you laugh. "Stark did it!" You look around to see Peter Parker, staring at his hands like he couldn't believe it. He looks up, sees you, and breaks out into a grin. You launch yourself at him, hugging him tightly.

"You're okay!' Peter cries, hugging you closer, "I- I saw you-!"

"It's been five years." Stephen interrupts, settling himself in between the both of you to break it up. You're too happy to feel embarrassed, and by the looks of Peter's dumb smile, he is too. "The Avengers undid all the deaths caused by Thanos and the Infinity Stones, but more importantly, he needs us to beat Thanos."

"Let's go get this son of a bitch." Quill hypes himself up, Mantis and Drax right behind him, "For real, this time."

And Stephen sling-rings a portal open, and the Guardians go first. Peter sends you one last smile before putting the Iron-Spider mask back on, waving cutely. You wave back and watch him swoop through on a web.

"You gonna tell me how you know him?" Stephen asks in a 'no-nonsense parent' sort of way, and you roll your eyes. 

"Maybe when the world isn't at stake." You tell him, and despite the snark, you walk side by side with him into the battlefield.

 

---

 

Spider-Man is too distracted by fighting aliens to see the enormous rock falling towards him. You were elsewhere: Strange could feel your magic signature some yards away, fighting alongside some other magical initiates you were close to- from the signatures, Wong seemed to be leading an attack on something big. Almost lazily, he swoops down and uses a mandala to shield Peter Parker.

"Careful, Spiderling." Strange says, looking serious, "You don't want to die right after you've come back, do you?"

"No, Doctor Strange sir." He says, looking stunned at the rock that Stephen had deflected. "Thanks! I kinda get why she calls you 'dad' now." No names are mentioned, but Stephen's jaw nearly drops. Spider-Man seems to have realised his mistake, and backpedals as fast as he can, "Uh- I mean-!"

"She's called me dad?" Stephen asks, surprised. 

"Only sometimes," Peter tries to defend timidly, and then gives up trying to convince him when Strange sends him a look. "Aw, she's gonna kill me if she finds out..."

"Good talk," Stephen says, flying somewhere that needs his help, "And watch your back."

The battle is a blur after that: Captain Marvel makes an appearance, taking down one of the battleships as she enters too. Tony meets up with him sometime- and god, Tony, how was he supposed to be able to look at him? And then Pepper's voice comes through, clear on his comms: "Is anyone else seeing this?!" 

Stephen runs to fix stop the flow, summoning enormous mandalas to help. He funnels the water upwards, and he can feel the magic taking its toll, but he pushes back at his fatigue. The water turns into an enormous, churning spiral: the easier way for him to distribute the water away. He could really do with some help, and... well, to know if you were safe.

And then, he feels the tug of magic to his left, and a sling ring portal appears.

"Strange?" You ask, stepping out, "Heard you calling for help."

"I didn't." He says, confused.

"You magic did, then. I felt it." You shrug, summoning secondary mandalas. Emotional energy. Strange realises. Not for the first time, that Eldritch magic surprised him. You combine your magic with his and suddenly, it gets a lot easier to hold back the water. You smile at him, "You're never good at asking for help, even when I want to give it, old man."

"Hey, ease up on the name calling. I have on good authority that you called me 'dad'," Stephen says, and you blink. Once, twice, and then again, and then you grin at him.

"Sure I did, Stevie-O." So you're going with the denial route, huh? 

"It's nice working as a team." Stephen admits, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He channels more magic into his hands, because if you were champion at being emotionally stubborn and unavailable, then he was right behind you in second place. He distracts himself long enough with magic so that maybe getting the words out and being vulnerable won't be so hard, "And I missed you, kid."

"I-" You stop, really looking at him then. Stephen can see you fighting against your first, habitual reaction of pushing people away but you relax, and your magic grows brighter. "It's good to see you." Then, almost inaudibly, "Love you, dad."

Stephen feels a warmth in his chest. Pride, and that comes hand-in-hand with a need to protect. "I love you too, littleling."

You stop then, the magic funnelling the water upwards stuttering. "Man, you gotta work on your nicknames."

"I'm new to this, alright?"

"You don't see me calling you Dad-Pops," You snort, and Stephen laughs right along side you. 

"Okay," Strange says conversationally. There's no foreseeable moment where the water will just vanish, so you wait for him to think of a better one with a raised brow. Stephen wonders when you picked that up from him, and thinks back to the day you both first met, "Okay, then what about 'trash-raccoon'?"

"Dunno, might get me mixed up with Rocket." You say. One of Thanos's cronies run towards him and you, but before he can panic, you simply flick a spectral mandala towards it, and your magic sends him flying away. 

"Fair." Strange shrugs, watching a few more bad guys sprint towards you, and then watching you take them down using a spell he'd taught you. Patiently waiting for you, Strange smiles as you turn to him, having finished off the latest alien, "Alright, what about me?"

"Oh, I have a wide range of wizard related material to use on you, Dumbledore." 

"Very original." Strange says, "Better get thinking of some more. Stark's already used up half the good ones."

"True," You concede, "Maybe you're more like a Snape... hair's the same."

"Hey!"

And before you can add to insult, an energy pulse drives through the entire battlefield, and your barrier stutters. Quickly, the two of you summon more magic, managing to keep the water steady.

Stephen and you exchange a look: aw, shit.

 

---

 

Eldritch magic is odd. It tapped into realities, harnessing potential energy from other worlds and it helped you protect your own. It gave you, sometimes, slivers of what is and what could be: all initiates are told to ignore this. They tell of potential futures, not of what will be. It's better not to dwell on them, because realities change faster than you could say 'time stone'.

But emotional energy was harder to block out. So many worlds were affected because of emotions, and the choices people made because of them. Particularly large spikes of feelings were next to impossible to ignore: some tomes had said this could work as an alarm bell, telling you when things were wrong or if someone needed help. Others said that they were distractions from achieving magical enlightenment. 

It's easiest to pick up on people's emotions that you know. Most strangers' emotions just fade into the background- reality was constantly changing, and sorcerers aren't expected to police how people feel, only adapt to it. You were having an easier time picking up on Wong's, but Stephen's was definitely the easiest. When he had struggled with the river, you had felt it from across the battlefield and went there immediately.

But Peter's grief, so raw and angry and unfair, this was unfair-! It physically hurts you, and your eyes prick with tears. 

"I- I have to go," You say, and Stephen looks at you solemnly and nods.

"I can take care of this." He says, "Go... go see him."

And you jog towards where Stark had been, and see Peter kneeling at his body.

"Can you hear me? It's Peter." He sobs, trying to get a response that won't come. "Hey. We won, Mr. Stark? We won, Mr. Stark. We won, you did it sir- you did it."

James Rhodes and Pepper Potts pull him away gently, "I'm sorry- Tony-" And he buries his head into his hands. You approach slowly, and Rhodes nods at you. You tap Peter on the shoulder gently: he looks up and then hides his face again. Ashamed, you think sadly, He doesn't have to be! 

"Peter." You whisper, and he stares at you for a moment before hugging you tight.

"I'm glad you're not- that you're not-" He swallows thickly. "That you're okay." He moves away from you slightly, just enough to stand next to you. You try take his hand slowly, gingerly, and Peter grips it quickly. He rests a head on your shoulder, still shaking.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Why him?" Peter asks very quietly. "Why did it have to be-?" He cuts himself off, and he just holds your hand tighter.

You'd lost your parents, just like Peter- and just when you had each found mentors, people you called family that really understood you, he'd lost Tony. You don't know how you would act if you lost Stephen. Would it be stunned anguish like Peter? Or would you stupidly use magic to try and bring him back, knowing that his sacrifice was necessary to stop Thanos? Again, you think sadly, Peter was brave- a lot braver than you.

But you don't say anything, and let Peter bury his face into your shoulder.

 

---

 

Stephen is invited to the funeral: he wasn't expecting the letter, and he almost doesn't want to go. How is he supposed to be able to face everyone, knowing what he did? With the potential that had he just used the stupid Time Stone earlier, before he had made all those rash decisions, couldn't he have saved Tony Stark?

He watches Pepper push a float- proof that Tony Stark had a heart- onto the lake outside their home. Next to him, he can barely see Wong hang his head from the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, your magic itches, agitated and trying to act out. Stephen mutters a spell to calm it, and you feel its effects. Sighing, you rest your head against his arm, wiping your eyes hard.

The crowd begins to disperse: Pepper holds Morgan close to her, and Stephen feels very lucky that he would be capable of doing the same for you. He puts an arm around your shoulders and gives you a small smile when you lean into the sudden display of paternal affection. Just as he's thinking about getting some ice cream together and having a talk about... everything, Peter shuffles towards the both of you, his aunt following.

"Hi, uh-" He says your name awkwardly, "Is it cool if we could... sit together, or something?"

You look up at Stephen for permission. He's not going to get used to you outwardly treating him like a father, is he...? And he doesn't want to say that Peter ruined his plans, but excuse Stephen if he wanted some time after coming back to life with his adoptive daughter. Then he sees the way Peter's eyes are red, uncomfortable to even be this vulnerable but wanting to be with you, so he sighs, allows himself to be 'the cool parent', and nods.

You raise your hand, offering to lead away. Strange swallows down the urge to push it back down. Unfortunately, Peter takes it before he can.

Once the both of you are a distance away, sitting together and talking in hushed voices, May elbows him gently.

"Seperation anxiety?" She asks coyly, and Stephen huffs. 

"I just wanted some time with her. And she was already pretty grown up when I met her, so I guess there's not much time left till she ditches me."

May shoots him a look this time, unimpressed. "'Ditch you'?"

"Teenagers tend to fly the nest," Strange looks at her. "I figured she'll follow in the footsteps of every adolescent that came before her."

"That might be true, but I don't think that's the case for those two." May chuckles fondly, "Peter's always been sweet, and he likes home. Hell, I think he's going to appreciate being in New York a lot more than he did before the blip. And your daughter-"

"-is edgy, thinks on her feet, jumps into action, makes rash decisions..." Strange raises a brow, "Do you need more examples of why Peter and her aren't exactly the same?"

"Aw, Dr. Strange, I think you just proved how they're the same." May smiles, and Stephen looks at the ground. "Listen: I'm glad that I could help Peter become his own person, help raise him. And while you and her may have only met a year ago- you've given her a chance to have a family again. She's not going to leave that anytime soon."

"...You think so?" Stephen asks softly, and Miss Parker nods.

"There's no place like home." She says, and knowing she's right soothes him. He doesn't feel as lost or as alone in the "pseudo-parent" department anymore... and thinks that she should start a club for unwitting guardians of super-powered children. There were probably a few out there that could use her words of wisdom.

They've just..." May begins distantly, catching Stephen's attention. She looks sad now, staring at where you and Peter are still talking, "They've had to grow up faster than we expected."

"Growing up, then acting like a kid." Strange chuckles despite himself, "She does like doing things in the wrong order."

May smiles. "Good thing she's got you to help her untangle everything, then."

 

 

(Peter hugs you. Strange starts to move but May grabs him by the arm. She's a lot stronger than she looks.)

---

 

Peter opens with the killer line, "We should get a sandwich together sometime."

"...Pete, you feeling okay?" The way you look at him like he's gone insane makes him blush. With insane effort, he manages to not look away from your worried expression.

"I- I'm sorry." Peter apologises quickly. How was he ruining this already? You made him feel normal, like he was just a teenage kid with a stupid crush. Maybe asking to get sandwiches at a funeral wasn't the best way to try and make everything else around him feel normal, but he's feeling weird. A little belatedly, Peter has just realised he's also sounding weird. "I just want to go out and do something we used to, before... you know."

He doesn't like saying it. He should have done something. Now Tony Stark is gone, and Morgan Stark didn't have a father. Another spectacular failure on his part for the history books. Hadn't he wanted to save other kids from the same pain he had felt? 

Your look softens, "'Course we can. I don't know how many of them will be open, with the five years thing..."

Peter swallows, "Oh." He hadn't thought of that.

Alarmed by his tone, you gently take his hand, "Hey, no! I didn't mean it like that. We can still get hot dogs. New York is going to be selling pretzels, burgers and hot dogs out of a truck until hell freezes over."

Peter giggles, and you smile. Man, he forgot you were funny and cute.

"...Thanks for being here." He says, and he hopes the sincerity comes through clearly. "I still wish it were the same as it was 5 years ago."

"Me too. But you're gonna be okay, Pete. We'll find new favourite hot dog places," You tell him, "Change is gonna happen whether we like it or not."

"Deep," Peter rolls his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. He knows what you mean, and it's comforting to have someone that isn't babying him, but the joke drops off his tongue before it happens. You jab at his sides, and he gives you an apologetic look.

"We'll find new ones, make new memories." You say firmly, "And I'll be fine as long as the one thing that hasn't changed is being able to hang out with you. I'm glad we both made it out."

Aw, you're going to make him cry again. "I'm glad too." Selfish, selfish of him to think this, but Peter agrees. He holds his arms out for a hug, and you smile quietly at him before wrapping your arms around him.

"I can't wait to get home." You say into the crook of his neck, and Peter hopes that New York would always be for the two of you.

 

---

 

"You met Spider-Man when you were fighting a man with Chitauri technology? And you didn't tell me?" Stephen asks dangerously, and you wince.

"The point is that I lived!" You tell him seriously, and he looks like he's about to ground you until you turn 21. "And you already knew about the Chitauri tech, since I know that there were sorcerers doing cleanup, so isn't it technically your fault you didn't warn me?"

"You-! Say that one more time." Stephen hasn't been a parent for a long time, but he sure as hell mastered the Dad Look™ quick. You gulp.

"Okay, but I figured since you knew and since I didn't get hurt, it was fine!"

"But you didn't tell me about Peter Parker until I met him during Thanos' 2018 invasion, trash-raccoon!"

"You would have freaked out just like you are now, Saruman. And you didn't even care that I was hanging out with my friend then!"

"I thought you meant your initiate friends!" Stephen thinks you're going to make his hair thin. Most magicians married each other, and usually had children that grew up in sanctums or at Kamar-Taj, learning the family business. You'd amassed your own magical friend group in your months training there, and damn, Stephan had always just assumed when you said you were going to hang out, you were going with them!

You actually look a little offended. "I can have more than one set of friends, Dad!"

"You were sneaking out for a whole year-" Stephen barely registers what you said. "How did I never notice-!"

You scoff, "Because my friends are cooler than you and covered for me?"

"...Oh, I really wish I could ground those kids-"

"Dad!"

 

---

 

"Is it so bad that I want to be a neighbourhood Spider-Man? I mean, I didn't want to be a neighbourhood Spider-Man before, but now I want a break!" Peter complains, throwing things into his suitcase, "I'm just one kid! I don't want Nick Fury calling me to fix his problems!"

"That's why I'm not an Avenger. Isn't there an exit clause?" You say, sitting cross-legged on his bed. You continue to stuff your face with the food truck burger, before  tossing a fry at him, "Here, catch-!"

Peter moves so it drops neatly into his mouth and you cheer. He smiles when he sees you smile, before shaking himself back into the rant he had been on for the past ten minutes. "Seriously though, don't you think I deserve this vacation?"

"Peter, I've already told you yes." You laugh, and he gives you a sad little look.

"I know, but I wanna hear it again." He baby-talks, pouting and shoulders slumping, and you snort.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, you need a well-deserved vacation in Europe with your friends." You spell it out as clearly as possible.

Faking humble, he shrugs and looks away, pretending to be embarrassed. "Well, I wouldn't say need..." Peter pretends to wave you off, looking all too pleased with himself- and you guffaw, throwing another fry at him, this time in protest. Peter manages to catch it in his mouth again, and he gives you a shit-eating grin. "Ha!"

You roll your eyes, endeared. You stand up, grabbing your trash, "I gotta get back to the sanctum. Send me a postcard, okay?"

Peter stares at you, the smile slowly slipping. And then very quietly, he says your name. Weird.

"...Yeah?" You blink, nodding for him to go ahead. He just flushes red.

"Like, uh- listen. Um." Peter stutters, and you're seriously beginning to worry for him, "I need to tell you something. And since I won't see you until after the vacation, I need to say it now. ...Well, not need to, but I kind of wanted to say this before the vacation started, so that I had something to look forward to after the vacation..."

You think his rambling is sweet, if not completely insane. "'After the vacation'? Peter, the vacation is what you're looking forward to." You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, "That's the only thing you've been talking about for like, two weeks."

Peter snorts, "Yeah, well you're not going to be there so it's not like I..." He trails off, and looks awkwardly at the way your face is turning pink. "Did I say that outloud?"

"Yeah." You say lamely. Was this happening? You pinch yourself. (Ow.)

"Well- okay, uh, I like you!" He says it in a rush, and then goes redder. "Because you're super strong and cool and pretty and I begged the school to let me bring a friend but apparently that's not allowed because Midtown is sort of an exclusive nerd-school- not to sound elitist or anything, 'cause you're super smart too, I just wanted to let you know I tried! And I thought- well- maybe after I come back, I could go out with you for some food. But not like we usually do, like a date thing."

"A date thing," You parrot. Peter looks like he's going to explode. Your brain is screaming at you to form sentences longer than three syllables.

"Yeah, because I like you." Peter tries again. "I already said that. Um- can- uh, can you say it back?" He winces. "You don't have to. Sorry. I'm trying to manifest destiny."

"...Manifest..." You nod sagely.

"Yeah." Peter says. 

You stare at him. "Huh."

"Like, I'm trying to speak it into existence," Peter tries to clarify.

"No, I know what manifest destiny means." You say. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you nod, "I like you too, Peter."

His jaw drops. He's so cute.

"Nice!" Peter says loudly, and then cringes. You step up to him, unable to keep the happy laughter from bursting out your mouth.

"Nice." You say, and he tentatively cups your cheek with his hands and then Peter Parker is kissing you. Fuck yeah! This is what your superhero live accumulates to, huh? Getting your crush to like you back. You press against him, and stupidly, giddily, you realise you're having difficulty kissing him because he can't stop grinning. He even parts from you, beaming. You want to figure out a way that makes him keep doing that.

"There's this really nice Vietnamese place in Manhattan. On 10th?" He asks, sheepish and still red-faced. "And I'll be back in like, a week. And I'll get you postcards and souvenirs and it'll be super romantic, I promise. Does that- Do you wanna go?"

"I'd love to." You say, feeling so light that you swear you could fly, even without Strange's cloak. 

 

 

 

"Hungry?" May throws a banana at his head, and it lands on Peter with a thunk.

"Wh-May!" 

May covers her mouth with her hands, trying not to laugh for her nephew's sake, "Oh, Pete- was I interrupting something?"

'You are so, so lucky,'  You think as Peter sadly picks up a banana off the floor, fighting his aunt about what they're calling the 'Peter Tingle'.

Now you just have to figure out how you're going to break it to Strange.