Chapter Text
Prompt: "Victor is under a spell in which someone saying his name compels him to tell the absolute truth."
There were a thousand things at least that Reed Richards didn't know about magic, and frankly, he didn't want to know them. From his perspective, it was all nonsense anyway--a combination of misunderstood science, basic psychology, and simple sleigh of hand explained all of it, from his perspective. How someone as brilliant in every other respect as Victor von Doom was could possibly have been so misled as to believe in was a point that often kept Reed awake at night; either he accepted it all as another relatively harmless quirk in Doom's already baroque nature, or... he somehow would have to reorganize everything he knew about the physical world and every science he had learned.
Neither option was ideal, but the former was generally easier to swallow, especially at 3am.
Given that as his default view, there was approximately no point at all in explaining the situation to him, as Victor already knew. The curse was temporary (he hoped) and could be reversed (surely) given time to work at the puzzle of it--in the meanwhile, all Doom had to do was avoid any question or request that included his name, and really... what was the likelihood that anyone would stumble upon that accidentally? The heroes took such delight in altering his name, after all, with their childish variations, and when they weren't attempting to mock him it was always simply... 'Doom.'
Just as it should be.
As long as he avoided the one person on the planet who still called him by his given name, as long as he avoided Reed Richards--
But if there was one thing that Victor knew intimately about the universe by now, it was that it seemed ruled by singularly vicious sense of irony, and hearing the commotion outside, he entirely expected what happened next.
Reed himself walked in, looking slightly tousled from his brief encounter with the guards outside but otherwise... just disappointed.
"We just dismantled your plan," he announced. "Again. As we always do. I should be at home right now, with Sue and Ben and the others but I'm not, because--I'm tired of this, Victor. I really am, I'm just so tired, and I want to know... Why?"
There was no exit from the room; Reed blocked it entirely, fully prepared to coil around him like a frustrated snake until he got whatever answer or non-answer would give him temporary 'closure' (a concept that Victor found so naive as to be insulting).
Instead of fleeing through one of the castle's many passageways as he'd intended, Doom stood trapped and hesitating, his eyes darting wildly in the mask's hollowed sockets.
"Why what?" he snapped, mostly just to buy time.
"Why..." Reed really did look tired, he realized; there were shadows under his eyes and while it was impossible to tell given the nature of his abilities, he seemed to have lost some weight in recent months. His thin face was on the verge of being actually gaunt, and Victor felt a pang of something he absolutely would not concede to call pity.
Richards sighed and raked a hand through his greying hair, as if he hadn't actually expected an answer and didn't quite know how to shift gears now that it seemed possible to have a conversation with this maddening, volatile man. The fact was, he'd never been able to understand Victor, in the ways that would have mattered--he saw most of the pieces of the puzzle that had made Doctor Doom a living, breathing threat to his entire world, but putting them together was still too far beyond him. Reed hardly knew where to even start.
"You're only being cruel," he sounded defeated and hated that he did, but it had been a long night and Reed was tired of the posturing. Had been, for more years than he liked to consider. "...I know you won't answer, Victor, but I wish I knew what the point was. Why do you do these things? What's your goal? It can't be just power, can it? Is that really all you're after? Is that really all you're about?"
"The point--" Victor was trying to stop the words even as he said them, to choke them off before they left his tongue, to cover his mouth before the syllables could escape, but the curse wouldn't let him and trying only made his skin burn. "The reason I--" Both hands at his guarded throat now, the armor preventing him even from physically stopping himself, Doom started to feel disconnected from himself as he heard the words, echoing in his own metallic tones, "The reason is simple, Reed: I... wanted your attention."
Richards froze, first scowling in bewilderment and then--with a quiet gasp--both eyebrows jerked sharply upwards until they nearly met his hairline.
"My... I'm sorry, you... wanted my attention, Victor?"
Victor sounded resigned as he answered unhesitatingly, "Yes. Your attention. I would be... Doom would make himself the focus of it again. As he once was. Is that so difficult to grasp?"
The curse forced him to be truthful, but there was no stipulation requiring him to be kind about it.
Richards' expressed closed abruptly, his demeanor changing--almost shrinking back--instantly, and Doom fought down a surge of panic that he hated himself for feeling at the obvious rejection there.
"That's..." It took a few seconds for Reed to gather his composure again; he made a little sound that barely approximated a laugh. "That's absurd. You understand how ridiculous that sounds, don't you? I don't know any 'Doom,' and I don't want to know him. I know you, though. I know Victor, and if you wanted my attention, all you ever had to do was say so."
Victor's hands lifted to his face with a muted clatter, metal gauntlets clacking against metal mask.
"...I do, Reed." Somehow, his voice had lost much of its familiar, ominous reverb; it almost sounded human, now. "I have always wanted that, but asking felt like lowering myself and that... I could never do."
"Victor?" Now Reed was looking around for the trap; he couldn't see it, but felt certain it was there. "Why are you telling me this, what's going on?"
The mask shook briskly, as if Victor were trying to get an image out of his head.
"That, I cannot say." At least there was something he wouldn't be compelled to overshare, though that was hardly a blessing. If Reed knew the rules, he'd know to stop talking. Although... would he, on second thought? Victor couldn't be sure.
They stared at each other from opposite ends of the room, Victor's eyes pinched in pain while Reed could only offer his confusion as a response.
"Is this some kind of... game?" he finally asked.
'You didn't say the magic word,' Victor thought; he answered honestly anyway.
"No."
"Victor... if you're serious, if this is just... loneliness, or a need for friendship, we can address that--"
"Not friendship," he managed, trying very hard to literally bite his own tongue. "Just..." Brown eyes flicked to the window--too narrow to fit through, and of course the stonework on this floor was reinforced several times over. Damn his luck! Damn Reed's eternal impertinence, too! "...Just you," he finished softly, eyes fixed on the moon outside, and the stars just beyond it, wishing this were a simple killing curse instead.
Understanding had finally dawned, with this last admission. Victor knew it without even looking up, he felt it in the air's sudden shift around them. Reed finally understood, and Victor wondered if he might be able to kill him before he left the room, taking that understanding with him.
Somehow, he doubted it. He'd never been able to before, after all.
"...Oh," Reed said at last. "I... think I begin to see." The silence was somehow even worse. It seemed to stretched on to a sickening length, even though Victor knew it was really only a second or two in reality.
"Do you, Richards?" he sneered. "I find that exceedingly unlikely."
"Oh, Victor," Reed sighed, "what am I going to do with you?"
It came as a tremendous relief to find he wasn't obligated to answer rhetoricals, at least--that would have made things very awkward, very quickly.
All hope that the conversation would be allowed to end there died abruptly when Reed took a few steps closer.
"Well, then, Victor... I think we should discuss this. And... I wouldn't normally ask, but... can you take the mask off, for now? I'd like to... I want to see you. Victor, not Doom."
Dread settled into the pit of his stomach as he flicked back the hood and unlocked the helmet, lifting the headpiece away in two parts and setting them aside.
He felt something in his chest flutter annoyingly as Reed smiled back at his unconcealed face, as if he saw something more than just the riot of scar tissue and mangled features there. As if he actually recognized what little was left of his old friend's face, and liked seeing it.
"Thank you," he said, with shocking sincerity. "I know that wasn't easy for you do to."
Ironically, it was... but Reed didn't have to know that.
"There is very little to discuss," Doom muttered.
"Isn't there?" Reed pulled up a chair; Victor slunk back to his own, feeling defeated.
"You're-- Um. You have... feelings? For... me?" He sounded uncomfortable, but determined. Victor studied his hands, still in their heavy gauntlets, and said nothing.
"Victor?" Reed prompted gently, "Am I misunderstanding?"
"No." A pause. "Yes." Another one. "It is... not as straightforward as you seem to think. The feelings are... complex, I... detest you," he interlocked his fingers to keep the hands from visibly shaking at the effort required to simply expand on the thought with some degree of tact. "I would love nothing more than to kill you, even now--but something always prevents it. I, quite against my own better judgment, have an incessant... need... to have you nearby. It is not love. Never mistake it for love."
"Mm." Reed said thoughtfully. "No, this is obsession, it's like we're connected to each other and can't break free, believe me, Victor, I know--I guess the question is... do we want to?"
Doom did, in fact, believe him; he chose to blame the curse for that.
"Do you?" The hesitation in his own voice made him wince. It was pathetic, how hopeful he sounded.
"Not really," Reed admitted, sheepishly. "You're very... magnetic, you always have been. It's disconcerting, I understand the danger, I like to think I know better than anyone what you're capable of, but... well, here we are. Every time. You want my attention and you have it."
Victor swallowed hard, struggling to process what he was hearing.
"Reed, are you saying this is... mutual?"
Reed went faintly pink.
"I don't even know what 'this' is, Victor, you say it isn't love, so what is it? Attraction? Just a need to possess something that you feel some kind of right to? You just admitted to wanting me dead--"
"I do not want you dead," Doom clarified, "Though yes, I would like to kill you. As I've said, the feelings are complex." He paused, resisted, gave in. "Desire is one component, possession is another. The feelings frighten me and I want to control them; the only way I can ever hope to accomplish that is by gaining control of their object."
Reed blinked rapidly and sat back, trying to get his head around all of Victor's sharp angles.
"You can't kill me," he said with certainty, "Because then I'd just be dead--but I think, Victor, that you're still human enough that you just don't want to lose me."
Doom closed his eyes and lowered his head, keeping himself calm.
Reed was right. That was the whole, awful truth of it--he was venomously angry with him for moving on, for building a life that was entirely his own, one with no room for Victor in it at all. Hated it so much that he'd become someone else entirely--become Doctor Doom--just to carve out a niche in that life where he, too, might fit because he couldn't move on. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, imagine a life that did not include this infuriating, brilliant, utterly fearless man.
That represented a weakness, in Doom's eyes--and weaknesses must be eradicated, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Because, simply put, he'd miss him too much.
"Are we done here?" Victor asked without looking up. "It must be early morning in New York by now, your family will be wondering where you are--or did you tell them?"
Now it was Reed's turn for an uncomfortable silence.
"I thought not," Victor said smugly.
"Do you realize you just admitted to desiring me, Victor?"
"Yes," he said wearily. "Do you realize I find the notion of snapping your neck equally appealing?"
Reed laughed softly.
"I think you find that simpler. It fits with everything else I know about you, and your fear of intimacy. Victor--"
Doom was beginning to hate the sound of his own name; he winced inwardly every time Reed said it, now.
"Yes?"
"If you could have what you desire, if you could have... well... me ...would it really change anything, do you think?"
Victor drew a long, shaky breath, and answered honestly; he couldn't do otherwise.
"I don't know. I cannot promise that it would. I... Truthfully? It is possible; I do not find it likely."
Nodding thoughtfully, Richards finally stood.
"It's a risk, then. I wouldn't ask you to, you know--I know I can't fix you or change you or... anything like that, it has to be your decision, ultimately, it's your change to make. But I do think I could help. And I'd like to."
He was standing in front of Victor's desk now, directly across from the man himself.
"This is a lot to ask. We've never been... physically close, except when we've fought, but I'd like..." He broke off and cleared his throat nervously. "You're familiar with the concept of sealing an agreement with some kind of... physical gesture, yes? A kiss, for example?"
Victor stared up, bemused by the prospect.
"Are you asking me to kiss you, Richards?"
Reed looked suddenly embarrassed, and it was almost charming to Victor in a way he definitely wasn't ready to acknowledge yet.
"Oh, Victor, no, of course not. I mean... I've thought about it before, I'll admit that, but... have you?"
Doom was near-certain he was leaving bruises on his own hands just from clasping them together too tightly; it still did no good.
"Yes," he admitted though clenched teeth. "I have."
Richards did a double-take, and leaned in across the desk.
"Do you still want to?" Reed almost whispered the words, and Victor couldn't bring himself to retreat, though he allowed a silence to fall while he held his breath, struggling not to admit to the truth even as the magic compelled him to do exactly that.
"Victor... kiss me already, before I change my mind."
It was alarming how quickly he moved, and that had nothing at all to do with the curse or its effects, Doom knew--he had just been waiting for Reed to finally ask.