Chapter Text
“No.”
“You weren’t?”
“No!!”
“You’re absolutely sure you weren’t?”
“Stephen, for God’s sake, I wasn’t staring at him!”
You were in the storage area of the Sanctum, sweeping up glass shards that had littered the floor. An unexpected visit from the God of Thunder had left your home in quite a state. Well, an unexpected visit for you. For Stephen, it was more like a dreaded social call. “You know, even as an umbrella,” you remarked, “it sure did a hell of a lot of damage.”
Stephen was attempting to replace the Shards of Gaea, which the bumbling Asgardian had toyed with during his stay. “I saw the way you were looking at him,” he said, a huff escaping his lips as a shard fell back onto the table. Damn his shaking hands. This would have been so much easier before the accident. “With his muscles…and hair…stupid accent…” There went another shard. A groan of frustration followed soon after.
“Okay, you might be onto something with those muscles,” you relented. “How do you think he maintains that? I mean, is it some kind of juice blend or magic Asgardian potion that makes you eternally buff?” You let out a groan and looked at your arms, pinching the skin between your thumb and forefinger to test its definition. “If I had a taste of that, maybe I could finally ditch my Planet Fitness membership.”
Stephen couldn’t help himself. “He doesn’t even know you need a computer for an email. He’s really not that great.”
“Oh my god,” you chuckled as you glanced up at the sorcerer above you. “Are you seriously jealous ?”
“No!” he shouted quickly – too quickly. Crap.
“Stephen Strange, you are jealous!”
“Why would I be jealous? I have no reason to be jealous.” Stephen frowned as he stepped back to review his work, looking for anything to be able to change the subject. There were still a few pieces out of place, but it wasn’t as noticeable as it was hours earlier. He could just stash those in the drawer and finish replacing it later. The Silencing Spell of Suravi would help him immensely then. “Do you think this will fool Wong?”
“Don’t avoid the question, Strange.”
His nose wrinkled at the use of his last name. Unlike the others at the Sanctum, you rarely called him by it. It was usually, “Stephen” or “Doctor.” He had felt obligated to provide you this special courtesy after knowing you for so long. “I’m not avoiding the question,” he retorted.
You had seen right through his cocky attitude upon his arrival in Kathmandu. Like the Ancient One, you also saw his potential...but you didn’t send him to the top of Mount Everest to prove its existence. Instead, you challenged him at a battle of wits to get better at the Mystic Arts. You were tough, Stephen would admit. The two of you would spend days within the Mirror Dimension training, only stopping to eat and sleep when necessary. Even though he was adamant that he didn’t need to learn how to fight, you pushed him out of his comfort zone to use the Mystic Arts to do things he never imagined. He was glad you did in the end. Without his training, he would have been as good as dead in the attack on the Sanctum (well, he did die during his time-loop bargain…several times, actually… but that was beside the point !).
During your “days off,” you would teach him how to surveil the real world (when you weren’t messing with Wong in the library). It was one of the duties you truly enjoyed as part of your work with the Ancient One. Something about the quiet task gave you a sense of security and peace being the guardian angel for so many lives. It was also one of the qualities Stephen admired most about you. You were glad when he appeared to share your interests; he would be fascinated by the changing scenes before him as they happened in real time.
One night, he made the request to watch over Metro-General Hospital – his old home away from home. You would sit in silence as he would reflect on his life before the accident, explaining the glitter and fame. He never mentioned the patients themselves, the lives he had improved and saved. To Stephen, the only thing that had mattered to him was the work. He liked to be challenged and told something is impossible. Only when he knew the odds were against him did he truly step up to the challenge.
“I only need possible,” he remembered saying in his hour of need . If only that had worked with his own injuries. In a way, he was glad it didn’t. If Western medicine hadn’t failed him, he never would have made the journey halfway around the world. He never would have met you .
At one point, he had gotten you to open up a bit more to him. In between parrys and enchantments, you told Stephen about the life you left behind after first venturing to Kamar-Taj. You had a family, but one day they experienced a tragic accident on the way to your college graduation. The only surviving member was your brother, who resented you every minute of every day. You painfully took on the guilt with honor and left shortly after, finding your way to the world of Mystic Arts by a chance encounter with Baron Mordo. You learned the path of the Ancient One and never looked back. It was a choice you struggled to cope with at times, but the other sorcerers had become the family you never had. They encouraged you to be stronger, even bolder, than you were before.
It had taken time, but with your help, Stephen finally started to understand the lessons his ancient master had attempted to teach him. In order to move forward, he knew he had to let go of his old life. To say it wasn’t a struggle would be a total lie. There were so many times that he yearned to return to his work, apartment, and connections. He had even found himself craving the taste of champagne and caviar in place of the sweet tea and meals served within the sanctuary. When the Ancient One revealed he actually could return to his old life back in New York, Stephen would wonder to himself why he continued to stay in the first place. He’d always be surprised to come to the same conclusion: you. You had shown him an entirely different way to see the world; it had been you that shared just how fulfilling life could be without the constant need for work.
It didn’t take long for him to fall for you. The only problem he had was not knowing if you felt the same way and it bothered him. Feelings had become an impossible enigma to the great doctor and he didn’t know how to solve it. When the New York Sanctum had been left without a Master after Kaecilius and his band of believers attacked, you had been the first one to advocate for his taking up the position. He had expressed his concerns with you. For God’s sake, he was a doctor, not a soldier! You had only laughed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. If he focused long enough, he could still feel where your fingers had traced a trail of fire that warmed his heart. Your assurance was all he had needed. Days later, he returned back to the city that never slept. He had only one stipulation, that being you would join him – an offer you had been more than willing to accept.
He sometimes questioned what the two of you were. Upon moving into the Sanctum, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Everything you did drove him crazy . The glances stolen over books in the library; the way you would remember to make him a cup of tea in the morning – always with a dash of honey, just as he liked it. Then there were the innocent touches. A hand resting on his shoulder as you attempted to read the same text, a gentle correction of his stance during training. Whether it was intentional or not, it still sent jolts of energy through his body every time.
You would always get mad at him for staying up late studying all the library had to offer. After hours of keeping the world safe and sound, you’d say, a relaxing night’s rest was surely deserved. Stephen knew it was pointless to argue with you. Frankly, he didn’t even want to. There had been so many times where he just wanted to drag you with him to his chambers. He desperately wanted to hold you in his arms and feel your heartbeat as you drifted off to sleep. If he was being completely honest with himself, he had wondered what it’d be like if you were actually his. The things he would do to make you feel loved, the things he would say to remind you how beautiful you truly were. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did with Christine. He would make the time for you. You would know that he belonged to you and he would only ever want you for the rest of his life.
With all his being, he wished that you could have even a semblance of what his feelings for you were like. No matter how hard he tried to subtly approach you, you always seemed to be more interested in something else…or rather, someone else. It annoyed him at first, which morphed into a current state of hurt. He didn’t understand how you couldn’t see the ever-so-obvious connection between the two of you. Why would you want to choose someone else over him?
His constant fear of ruining his friendship with you was always at the forefront of his mind. The two of you were an unstoppable team as you faced perils and dangers unknown by the real world. You were one of the first people who truly believed in him during his darkest moments. Not once did you ever waver when it came to encouraging and supporting him. If he ever did tell you how he felt, would it change your mind about him? Would you even want someone like him or would you run away and he would lose you forever? The confusion and worry had begun to consume him over time, affecting his ability to maintain focus on spells. When he thought he was truly going to lose his mind, Stephen made the decision to ask Wong for advice.
That was the second time in his life he had heard the grumpy librarian ever truly laugh…
“I’m glad my anxieties bring you joy, Wong,” he remarked, a feeling of instant regret washing over him. The library had gotten warmer all of a sudden. Did someone set fire to one of the ancient texts? “It’s not my fault the idea of this happening keeps getting into my head. I’ve tried everything I could think of but it isn’t working!”
“How many times must you be reminded of patience, Stephen?” Wong had said once he had managed to catch his breath. “If things are meant to be, they will be. Just give it time.”
“Yeah, about that,” he replied. “Time has never been on my side.”
“If you’re really that desperate to find out, you could just share how you feel.”
After Wong left the library, Stephen remained where he was. His gaze scanned the leather-bound covers and a smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the late nights you’d spend with him reading at Kamar-Taj. Even though it wasn’t that long ago, those memories continued to be dear to him. He knew he couldn’t lose that connection with you; it was much too valuable to him in the first place. It was at that moment he knew he couldn’t tell you, even if the thought did kill him inside.
“Stephen,” your voice jarred him from his thoughts. “Earth to Stephen.”
He startled and accidentally jostled the table, knocking the Shards back on the surface. “Easy there, steady hands,” you teased him as a playful grin etched its way across your face. “Wouldn’t want Wong catching you red handed, now would we?”
“Why don’t you love me?” The question surprised him as it escaped his lips. He instantly wished he could take it back to replace the wavering frown plastered against your lips. Damn it, he thought to himself. You’ve really screwed it up this time, Stephen. There would be no way you would want to stay with him now. He didn’t need to use the Eye of Agamotto to see you packing your bags and heading back to Kamar-Taj.
The two of you waited in an aggravating silence for a moment before you shifted into an upright position. You appeared to be contemplating something. Most likely how to slip through the exit without causing too much collateral damage, Stephen expected. “Would you want me to?” you sounded uncertain, as though you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue. He didn’t blame you, but still, the response was a surprise in itself.
Yes! the honest response echoed in his head. God, how he just wanted to finally tell you after all this time! He could feel his face getting warmer as you cautiously took a step forward. In an attempt to combat his increasing nerves, he cleared his throat. “I thought your type was buff Norse gods with blonde hair and blue eyes.”
“Maybe my type is confident doctors who can sometimes be a pain in my ass.” You were much closer now, maybe about five steps away. Your gaze had locked onto his blue-green one, flickering from side to side as they searched for something. The only problem was he didn’t know what they were looking for. The only thing he did know was that he could get lost in your eyes, letting their colors take him to a dimension of their own.
In a split-second, those same eyes darted to the ground and he watched as you quickly licked your lips before parting them to speak again. “What about you, Stephen?”
Oh God, was this really happening?
“What- what about me?” he asked, mentally cursing his stutter.
You took another step closer, the tips of your toes were touching ever so slightly now. If he were to lean even the slightest bit forward, he would be able to close the gap which separated your two forms. “What’s your type?” you asked in a whisper, as if it was a secret shared between the both of you.
It was now or never. “My type,” he said, as he dared to lean ever-so-slowly forward, “is you.” Without waiting for your response, Stephen closed his eyes and captured your lips with his own. If your friendship was ruined, he didn’t care anymore. All he could focus on was how well you felt in his arms. He could have held you forever and never had a care in the world. The only thing that could make this moment even better was-
You kissed him back.
In his past, Stephen had had relationships; flings or broken promises of something more. Yet this…this was something different. He had heard about the feeling of fireworks, but God above, when your hand traveled back into his hair… he was in some form of heaven. He never wanted the experience to end. He was desperate for more. His hands shook slightly as he held your waist, continuing to relish in the softness of your lips. When you both unfortunately- er, finally- parted for air, a smile lit up your face.
“Good thing you’re just my type, Stephen Strange,” was the last thing you said before your lips were promptly placed back on his.