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Stephen looked up from the medical article he was reading on the latest nervous system regeneration research—he might not be a neurosurgeon any longer, but that didn’t change his personal investment in the practice—as Tony sauntered into the room, a too-bright grin on his face—the one that was a strange mix of fake and genuine. It took Stephen a moment to decipher what it meant: Tony was amused, but also concerned.
Stephen let out a sigh and reluctantly put down the starkpad that Tony had given him. He suspected that this was going to be some sort of conversation.
The cloak jumped off of the back of the chair and sped over to Tony, dancing around him for a moment in their standard, somewhat manic greeting—neither Tony nor the Cloak were ever simple about anything, even their complicated greeting for each other that reminded Stephen of kids with a secret handshake—before the cloak finally wrapped Tony up in a hug.
Tony gave the cloak a comforting pat before the Cloak flew back to Stephen’s seat as Tony sat down in the seat across from Stephen, glee dancing in his eyes and that damnable smile still on his face. So they were starting with whatever had Tony amused then. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than starting with whatever had Tony concerned.
“What?” Stephen asked, knowing that in this state Tony would gladly tease him with that grin until Stephen gave in. Better to give in quickly and gracefully—or as gracefully as Stephen ever gave into anything—than have Tony draw it out until Stephen’s inevitable need to know what, exactly, had Tony in such a dangerously good mood had him caving.
“I was in Kamar-Taj, today,” Tony said. He stopped there, waiting.
So Tony was going to draw this out. Stephen took a moment to decide whether he was going to be difficult about this or not. But then the logic from before still held true: the sooner he gave in, the sooner this was over. “What were you doing in Kamar-Taj?” Stephen asked dutifully.
“Gossiping with Wong,” Tony responded promptly. “Mostly about you,” Tony added, as though Stephen had had any doubt about what they were gossiping about. It was always about him with those two. Sometimes he wished that Tony and Wong would go back to when they weren’t friends. Things had been easier for Stephen back then.
“And, what did Wong have to say that has you in such a good mood?” Stephen asked, layering his tone with every ounce of his resignation and annoyance to show that he was not happy about where this was going.
Tony’s eyes somehow brightened even further with his glee. “Oh, nothing, it was just the standard gossip. What was actually interesting was that some of the apprentices heard us gossiping about you and realized that I’m your boyfriend.” Tony leaned forward. “They were very happy to meet me.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re Tony Stark, of course they were.”
Tony shook his head. “Nuh uh, nope. They could have cared less. Tony Stark and Iron Man were completely inconsequential to the fact that I was the boyfriend of THE Stephen Strange. They had a lot of questions, all about you.” The last few words were said in a sing-songy voice.
Stephen groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t answer them.”
“I do my best not to lie, Stephen, so no can do.” Tony paused. “Though I did avoid the questions about our sex life. I might be shameless, but I know you like to keep that sort of thing private.”
“They asked questions about our sex life?” Stephen asked, mildly horrified.
Tony nodded, and this time he did look at least somewhat disturbed, rather than gleeful. “Some of them got… uh, explicit before Wong put a stop to the line of questioning. But also, I’ve got some suggestions for the next time you take me to bed, because let’s just say some of them were kinky. Wouldn’t have expected it, with all the monk robes going around, but people surprise you sometimes.” He shook his head. “But that’s not important.”
Stephen eyed him carefully. “What, exactly is the important part?”
“You never told me that I was dating a legend, Stephen. Because I swear, they used that word at least a dozen times.” He brought his hands to his chest and shifted his tone up an octave. “‘You’re dating Stephen Strange, he’s a legend, is it true that he’s transcended the human need for sleep?’ ‘Stephen Strange? He’s a legend, is it true he doesn’t really walk, just maintains the illusion while the cloak flies him everywhere?’ ’You’re dating Stephen Strange? No way. What a legend. Is it true that he was blessed by the Vishanti themselves with a gift for the mystic arts?’ ‘How did someone like you manage to snag such a legend? You don’t even have magic. Wait until he finds someone better in bed.’ And that was just for a start. Some of them really seem to think that you’re the second coming of the Ancient One or something.”
Stephen scowled at the last one. “Who said that about you ‘snagging’ me?” he demanded.
Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Wong already told them off for assuming that magic somehow made them superior to others and I’m pretty sure they’ve got whatever the Kamar-Taj version of detention is. I’m fairly certain they just wanted you for themselves, really. Which, can you blame them? You’re a catch, and I thought that before I found out that you were a legend.”
“You don’t deserve for someone to treat you like that,” Stephen argued. “They should stay clear of our relationship.” The idea that Tony somehow didn’t deserve him because he didn’t use magic or that Stephen was only with him because he was good at sex was preposterous.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Stephen. I’m not going to let what some apprentice wizard said about my relationship with you affect me, you should do the same.”
Stephen was still far from appeased. He bet Wong would tell him if he asked. As long as Stephen promised not to be too vengeful.
But he could probably get away with being a little vengeful.
“Anyways, back to the important bit. Apparently you’re cooler than Merlin, which somehow makes that nickname feel both more and less appropriate.”
Well, that killed whatever feeble hopes Stephen had of Tony ever letting that particular reference go. He was still really hoping to get rid of Harry Potter, though. He was not an angsty teen, thank you very much.
“People exaggerate,” Stephen said easily. “I’m not a legend. And I’m certainly not the second coming of the Ancient One.” How did that even make sense? He shook his head. “Who said that?”
Tony once again waved his hand dismissively. “Just leave that to Wong. Not like I remember anyways.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes at Tony, trying to decide if he’d be able to weasel out the answers from Tony, but then dismissed it as a lost cause. Tony was far better at remembering names than he pretended to be, but he played forgetful very, very well.
“And at first, I thought, ‘of course he’s a legend, he went up against Thanos and four infinity stones and won.’ Except—“ here Tony paused, eyeing Stephen as though expecting him to know where Tony was going with this, “—turns out you were a legend before that ever happened.”
Oh.
This was about Dormammu. Stephen had never actually mentioned that little ‘adventure’ to Tony beyond vague references in which he’d downplayed the threat immeasurably. “Is this about Dormammu?” he asked, trying to head it off. “Because that’s grossly over exaggerated.” That was both a bald-faced lie and not at the same time. So many people seemed to think he’d proven himself a threat to Dormammu somehow, when in truth… well, in truth he’d just refused to stop losing.
“Right on the money,” Tony agreed. “This is about Cthulu.”
“Dormammu.”
Tony ignored him. “But the thing is—“ Tony’s face went a little more serious, and he had a bad feeling he knew where this was going. They were coming to the part of the situation that had Tony concerned. “—no one but Wong actually seemed all that sure about what you did. Apparently you went up against Dormummy—“
“Dormammu,” Stephen corrected again, a little more emphasis this time.
Tony shrugged at that, pushing forward. “Anyways, Dormammu was apparently about to come from some disaster dimension—“
“Dark dimension.”
“—and consume the earth, and from there the multi-verse or something like that. Which wow, somehow someone is even worse than Thanos; I didn’t think that was possible. And then you stopped them.”
“Something like that,” Stephen said, hoping that was the end of things and knowing it wasn’t.
“I asked Wong, but he said it wasn’t his place to tell me what happened.”
Stephen wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or not, but at least he wasn’t surprised. “Good,” he muttered. Wong might gossip with Tony, and Tony might gossip with Wong, but when it came to the important things, both kept things to themselves.
Tony was quiet for a long moment, watching him with discerning eyes. Stephen felt the rare desire to look away, to try to shield himself from Tony’s gaze. Tony always saw more than people gave him credit for, and Stephen felt like Tony could see right through him.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Tony said gently. “I want to make that clear. Yes, I want to know. Because something like that…” He trailed off. “I want to know,” he repeated. “Because I want to help you. I want to be there for you. But only if it’s something you’re ready to tell. If not, then nothing changes except for the fact that I now know you’re even more of a legend than I thought.” The last was said with a small attempt at a smile, but Stephen couldn’t return it.
“So if I don’t want to tell you, you’ll just… leave it,” Stephen said, not quite able to hide his bitter skepticism. He loved Tony. There was no denying that. But Tony was good at pushing and prodding and was unendingly curious. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Hell, half the time that was exactly what Stephen loved about him.
Tony let out a laugh. It was a little bitter, but Stephen didn’t think it was aimed at him. “I’ve had plenty of people who wanted to push and prod at my trauma, wanting me to relive it at their pleasure and on their timetable. I’m not going to do that to you.”
That pulled Stephen short for a moment. He remembered Tony’s curt, barely given explanation for what had ended his relationship with Pepper before he and Tony had ever even met.
He felt a small twist of guilt for having forgotten, for having assumed that Tony would push and prod and never let it be when Tony understood just how that felt.
They sat there for a long moment in silence, Tony clearly waiting for Stephen to decide how the rest of this conversation would go. If there was even going to be a rest of the conversation.
Would this change things if he decided he didn’t want to talk about it? Would it leave Tony feeling like Stephen didn’t trust him when that was the furthest thing from true?
No. He couldn’t think like that. He had to take Tony at his word. Nothing would change, no matter what Stephen decided.
That made it easier, in some ways.
“I—“ Except even as he started, he realized he didn’t know how to do this. He’d never really told anyone what he’d done. Not really, Wong had been there, had put together the truth based off the few things Stephen had felt that he’d had to say to explain.
“I made a bargain,” he said finally. He swallowed hard, not meeting Tony’s gaze. “I trapped Dormammu and I in a time loop. Eventually he couldn’t handle it any longer; he demanded I end the time loop and in exchange he would take his zealots and leave Earth and never come back. I knew I could never win against Dormammu, but I could lose. I could lose over and over and over.”
You will suffer, Dormammu had said.
And Stephen had answered with the truth. Pain is an old friend. The words had only become more true with every moment that passed in that hell.
Tony didn’t respond immediately. Stephen suspected he was processing just what all that meant. Stephen fought the desire to look at him, to see what he thought.
“What was the trigger that restarted the time loop?” Tony asked eventually, voice quiet. Stephen doubted he really needed to ask, that he already knew the answer.
Here was where it would turn into a real nightmare. “My death,” Stephen admitted.
A longer, aching silence, this time. “How many times, Stephen?” It sounded as though Tony wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to ask, but was determined to know anyways.
Stephen let out a hoarse laugh, flashes of memory—bright purple light bursting from Dormammu and killing him in a blaze of heat as he disintegrated, stakes piercing his body from all directions, whips tearing him apart—burning through his mind. “He was an immortal being with untold levels of cruelty, immeasurable creativity, and immense rage.”
It was an answer that was a non-answer. In truth, Stephen didn’t know how long he had spent in that loop. He knew, though, that it had been years. Years and years.
“Stephen,” Tony said, voice barely a whisper. “God, Stephen.”
“Don’t pity me,” Stephen snapped, tension rising in him. He’d saved the world, and he didn’t need any pity just because his methods had been painful.
Pain is an old friend.
He heard Tony move, steps coming closer. He felt Tony kneel in front of him, hands resting gently on Stephen’s knees.
“Stephen, look at me.”
Stephen didn’t want to, but he’d never really figured out how to deny Tony anything. He found himself turning back to Tony, meeting Tony’s gaze.
There was no pity in Tony’s eyes, just a deep, almost unfathomable love. Stephen’s breath caught in his chest. He felt himself relax, comforted by the certainty that the look left him with. Tony understood him, even in all the ways where there was no way for Stephen to be understood.
Tony took his hands, gentle as he always was. His thumbs ran softly over Stephen’s scars. “I’ve never pitied you, Stephen. Not once. That’s not going to change.”
Stephen nodded, grateful when it was so easy to believe him.
“It made me reckless, at first,” Stephen admitted, the words coming easier now as he kept his gaze locked with Tony’s. “I felt like I couldn’t die. And not out of some sort of self-confidence, some sense of invincibility. Though I’m sure that some people assumed that was the reason behind it. In truth, it was because I’d died so many times and it hadn’t stuck. Part of me forgot I could stay dead if I died outside the loop.” He shuddered. “Wong and the Cloak are probably the reason I didn’t accidentally get myself killed.”
The Cloak reached out from around the back of the chair to rub Stephen’s shoulder in gentle acknowledgment. Normally Stephen would pat it in gratitude, but that would mean letting go of Tony’s hands and he didn’t want to do that. He thought the Cloak understood anyways.
He took a deep breath and Tony stayed silent, his thumbs continuing their gentle trace back and forth. His gaze hadn’t left Stephen’s face, just quiet and patient.
“I dream about it. ‘Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain’ over and over again. The pain of death after death. Distinct and individual, just like it had been when it happened.” It was the curse of his nearly perfect memory. He looked away again, not sure how his next revelation would be taken. “Sometimes I don’t react well when I wake up. I… I haven’t actually slept with you, in the non-sexual sense. Not really. Whenever we’re in bed together, I spend the night in the astral plane so you won’t see my nightmares.” He glanced back at Tony, expecting to see hurt or pain at the words. Stephen was essentially admitting to lying about an intimacy that Tony had believed they’d shared.
But Tony just nodded, gaze understanding. But then, maybe he did understand. Tony had his own nightmares, tempered though some of them were with age. Though Stephen knew that trauma didn’t just go away just because time had passed.
If it did, after 14,000,605 time variations, Stephen would have long gotten over what Dormammu had done to him. What Stephen had done to himself in order to stop Dormammu.
Instead all it had done was add more nightmares to the pile.
In his minds eye he could see Tony being tortured, slowly and steadily as Thanos demanded the time stone from him after years of the two of them on the run together. Tony’s voice in his ear don’t do it, I can take it, Stephen. I can take it. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. Sometimes, he had to admit, the dreams of Dormammu were easier.
A soft kiss on the tips of his fingers pulled him out of the sudden memory.
“You can talk about this for as long as you want. But at the same time, we don’t have to talk about this right now,” Tony said quietly. “Not if you don’t want to. We’re taking this at your speed, Stephen.”
There was so much else to say, so much more that he could explain. He could talk about dying over and over, only for Mordo to talk about ‘the bill coming due’ as though Stephen had not just paid in full. He could talk about the worst deaths, the ones where Dormammu had dragged it out, hoping that a slower death would incentivize Stephen to give in. He could talk about the desperation as he had tried to futilely fight, drawing out his own inevitable death because he still didn’t want to die, despite having died hundreds of times already. There was so much he could say.
But Tony was right. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. Not anymore.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But… but I don’t regret what I did say. I’m glad you know. And perhaps… later.”
Tony’s smile was soft as he nodded. “I’m glad too, Stephen. I’ll be here.” He stood, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Stephen’s lip, shifting away teasingly when Stephen tried to turn his head to deepen the kiss. “Anything you need, Stephen. You know that, right?”
Stephen swallowed, feeling the full truth of what that meant from Tony. For Tony anything was not a false promise. Stephen swore to never take advantage of it. “What I need is for you to get back here and give me a proper kiss,” Stephen said.
Tony huffed out a laugh, and if it was perhaps not quite as full-hearted as normal, it was still genuine.
“So demanding. I thought I was supposed to be the needy one in this relationship.”
“You are,” Stephen lied easily. He tilted his head back as Tony pressed forward for another kiss. After 14,000,605 time variations, Stephen sometimes felt like he needed Tony like he needed air.
But that was another trauma, another conversation, for another time.
For now, Stephen left all of the thoughts, all of the memories, all of the traumas behind him. For now, all there was was Tony, right here in front of him. A moment shifting in time; one he would never repeat, and all the more precious for it.