Chapter Text
It was a rare day off for Stephen. Socerering wasn’t a 9 to 5 job and it certainly didn’t respect a 60 hour work week. But today was one of those days when all the various plates the Masters of the Mystic Arts kept in the air were aloft and so Stephen could take a little time with a good book. Today he was going to read the four volumes in the sanctum library about arch-weaving esoteric threads in the dream dimension. Master Bly had mentioned he was studying it, and Stephen was enough of a bastard that he wanted to be able to show the man up. He knew that wasn’t the most healthy or kind way to engage with the other Master. But this was his day off. And if he couldn’t be a bit of an asshole on his day off, what was the point?
He was working his way through a denser paragraph with a cup of tea at this elbow when there was a knock on the door. Stephen looked up from his book, waiting. There was another knock.
The sanctum wards usually kept people away. However people who were determined to visit every house on the block like census workers and vacuum salesmen could get passed the wards without mystic business. If they did, the secondary wards on the entryway usually directed them away before they could knock three times.
Knock.
Stephen closed the book and made a deal with himself. If the person got to five knocks he would go and see what they wanted.
Knock. Knock.
Stephen shut his eyes. Seven then.
Knock Knock.
Sighing he set the book aside and went to answer the door.
There were no more knocks as he made his way down to the foyer. That was because whoever was on the other side of the door had escalated to shouting through the mail slot.
“Hello. Hello? I’m looking for the wizard that lives here.”
Yeah, that sounded like something Stephen was going to have to deal with. He got his hand on the door ready to pull it open.
“Hey, nice pants.”
And resisted the urge to cover the bits of himself at the same level as the mail slot. As he opened the door a surprisingly young man jumped to his feet.
“Oh, hi, you’re here.” The man, boy Stephen wondered, straightened up shoulders back, head high. “Help me Mr. Wizard, you’re my only hope.”
Stephen wondered what sort of karmic debt he would incur if he took an impromptu vacation to the Bronze dimension. Instead he pointed to the small faded sign next to the door. “No Soliciting.”
“I’m not. I need your help. Well Mr. Stark needs your help. Badly.”
Stephen leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Tony Stark?”
“Yes, Mr. Stark, Iron-man.” The boy’s forehead wrinkled impressively. “You know him right. He’s the world’s most huggable industrialist. He’s invented so much tech, like phones, well he didn’t invent them but he made them super cool and he’s got this irrigation system that he’s been working on which is amazing. And he has a tower, you can see if you” The boy swung around wildly and pointed toward Stark Tower on the horizon. “look over that way.”
“I know who Tony Stark is.”
“Great. He needs your help.”
Stephen paused then asked. “And you are?”
“Oh, I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”
Stephen paused again waiting for who Peter was to Tony Stark. “The richest man in New York, probably the world, sent … you? To get me?”
“Yes, because I’m--” a phone in the boy’s pocket started playing a very aggressive ringtone. “-- his intern.”
“Right. How do I know you’re actually here on Mr. Stark’s behalf?”
The boy pulled a white square of paper from his pocket. “I have a business card.”
“Of his?”
“Of yours.”
Stephen plucked the card from the boy’s hand and sure enough it read:
Master Strange
For Matters Magical and Mystical
177A Bleecker St, Greenwich Village, New York, United States, Earth.
Sending a tiny spark of magic into the card confirmed that it was one of a couple dozen he had given to magic practitioners across the city with the guidance that if they ever felt like some was above their pay grade they could call him in.
“Let me get my cloak.”
He shut the door in Peter’s face as the boy tried to see inside the Sanctum. “Cloak! we’re going out.” The cloak flew out from the kitchen with a suspicious amount of flour dusting its front. It mimed putting its ‘hands’ on its ‘hips’. “I know but apparently Tony Stark needs our help.”
Stephen made a note on the whiteboard, including the date, time, and where he was going. He and Wong had learned from embarrassing experience to share that information.
Then, with the cloak and sling ring, he stepped out to join Peter on the front steps “Right, where are we going?”
“Stark Tower.”
He flexed his hand. “Do you have a picture? I can get us there quickly.”
“Are you going to use magic? That’s so cool. I absolutely have a picture.” Peter’s phone started chiming wildly again.
“But I can’t show you.” The boy looked a little helpless. “NDA.”
Stephen pondered just teleporting to the front of the building. It was a public street after all.
“There’s Happy though.”
“What?”
Peter gestured at a black car idling a few parking spaces down the block. “Mr. Happy, he’s Mr Stark’s head of security. He’ll drive us there.”
As they approached the car a large man in a bad suit got out of the driver’s seat. He ignored Peter and nodded at Stephen. ‘You the wizard?’
“Sorcerer.”
“Happy Hogan, Head of Security for Stark Industries.” He held out a hand for a shake.
Stephen noted the knuckles that had clearly been dislocated many times and the thickness of the man’s upper ears. He held up his hands and turned them back and forth in a way he hoped conveyed it’s not you it’s me.
The man frowned but went ahead and opened the back passenger door. Peter clambered in and Stephen and Mr. Hogan shared an eye roll.
Once they had pulled into traffic Mr. Hogan looked at him in the rear view mirror and asked “Did he say you were his only hope?” At Stephen’s nod he continued. “He was thinking up different lines the whole ride over here. “
“Who is he anyway?”
“I’m Peter.”
Stephen makes a go on gesture. “And why are you coming to see me, instead of literally anyone in Stark’s employ or one of his superhero friends?” He nodded at the man driving. “Why wasn’t it Mr. Hogan knocking on my door?”
“I’m--”
“He’s Mr. Stark’s INTERN.” The man stressed the word glaring at the boy in the mirror.
Stephen would have to figure out that later. Illegitimate son seemed trite, and not even a very good explanation of why the kid would be there. A superhero in training maybe. Did the Avengers have a training program?
“What can you tell me about the situation?”
“Nothing.”
“You have my card so clearly, something magic is going on, and it’s impacting Tony Stark. So what is going on?”
“I can’t tell you anything until the background check, and you’ve signed an NDA.”
Stephen turned to Peter. “What’s happening to Mr Stark?”
“It’s awful. He’s--” Peter’s eyes flicked to the mirror. “Bad things. That I’m not allowed to tell you about until you’ve got an NDA.”
“I assume it will be waiting for me at Stark Tower?”
“Yes.”
“And how long is the background check going to take?”
Peter’s phone beeped less aggressively. He read the text and his eyes went wide. “Your name is really Dr. Strange? That’s so neat.”
“What does Friday have to say about the Wizard, kid?”
“Sorcerer.” Stephen corrected.
“You’re from Nebraska?” His hand covered his mouth. “Is there a Wizard school there?”
“No, there are cows.”
Peter deflated. ‘Magic cows?’
“No.”
“Kid.” Mr. Hogan said firmly.
“Err…” He flicked his fingers on his phone screen reading. “not affiliated with any terrorist groups. Used to be a neurosurgeon. Recommend trusting him given the situation.”
Happy nodded.
There were a few quiet seconds before Peter asked. “Are there magic cows anywhere?”
“...Yes.”