5 Times Stephen Strange Had Feelings for Iron Man + The First Time He Met Him

by PeterStark

Summary:

Stephen Strange has worked with Iron Man for a while. And the flirting and verbal sparing was really nothing at all.
Until it was more than that.

Notes:

Why this?
Dunno.
Will there probably be more?
Probably.
I still own nothing.

1: The Man on the Wire

 

Stephen Strange, unfortunately, had to work with the Avengers from time to time. He helped them out once, and then suddenly he’d become their ‘on call’ sorcerer, because, apparently Captain Rogers didn’t really respect boundaries.

Most of them lacked precision, caused way too much damage, and hurt too many people for his taste. Too much collateral everywhere they went. And, frankly, he found most of them didn’t have enough braincells to rub together.

However, there was one exception.

Iron Man.

The man behind the mask was an unknown. Tony Stark was the only man who knew his identity, as Iron Man was his bodyguard. But aside from that, the man in the suit was a complete unknown.

And Iron Man had a crazy amount of power while he was in that suit, but he went at every problem with his brain first, applying logic to everything. Most in a near invincible super suit would just go in swinging, but he thought before he did things and it was obvious he tried to mitigate damage.

Iron Man, unlike some of the others, Strange liked working with. Especially since the man liked to banter. While many thought they were fighting or disliked each other, it was simply that they both enjoyed the argumentative banter. Strange had argued with enough people to know the difference between the fun intellectual banter and the straight-up arguments.

They did the former and had since day one.

“Hey, Wizard. I would say that’s a snazzy new set of robes…but they look ancient as always.” Iron Man said as he came to a halt next to him. “Ever thought of wearing something…new? Or are you just trying to go for that silver-fox vibe, because I kinda dig that too.”

“I do wear normal clothes from time to time.” Strange retorted as he flicked his wrist and cast another one of the strange five-legged reptile things back into the hell dimension they’d come from. Some idiotic moron had decided it would be cool to try to summon a demon. Not only had it failed, but it had opened a rift near central park that was now letting in a damn legion of monsters.

An average Monday to Stephen Strange.

“Could have fooled me, Oz. You dress all stuffy. Ruffle your hair a bit and put on some glasses and you’ll be a sexy librarian. Seriously, how much more old-fashioned can you be? Tweed jacket with elbow pads? OH! You could look like Giles with all your retro looks! And Cloak always looks good! They could be your pocket square or something!”

Levi actually fluttered a little at the compliment and Stephen was pretty sure Levi would be delighted to be a pocket square.

“We can’t all pull off a metal suit, Tin Man.” If he was going with the Wizard of Oz theme, then the jump was obvious.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short—” Iron Man raised hand. The palm glowed bright, seemingly pointed directly at Strange’s face.

Strange didn’t flinch as the repulsor blast shot past him. Strange looked over his shoulder at one of the creatures, lying wounded behind him. One he obviously hadn’t seen coming.

“—I’d definitely let you pull this off me,” Iron man finished.

Strange definitely didn’t blush. And he definitely didn’t think how patently unfair it was that he could never tell if Iron Man blushed.

“I know you can’t see it, but I winked.” Iron Man said as he lowered his hand. “And you’re cute when you blush. Wouldn’t normally call you cute, I’d use other adjectives like handsome or sexy or ethereal, but that was cute.”

Strange didn’t blush. He never blushed. Iron Man casually flirted with him all the damn time and he did not blush. This was unacceptable.

Iron Man seemed to read his flustered-ness and backed off a little. “So, what’s the plan with these things, Dumbledor? The A-team is off that way; this is your wheelhouse…or school of magic or whatever. What are we doing?”

“I need to be able to close the dimensional tear or they’ll just keep coming and we eventually won’t be able to keep up.”

“Got it.” Iron Man nodded then called out over his comms. “Winghead, new objective. Protect the Wizard and keep these freaks off him and away from civilians.” Then Iron Man nodded at him. “Do what you got to do and don’t worry about anything over here, I’ve got your back, Merlin.”

Strange nodded and he and cloak flew up and hovered in front of the rift that was opening wider above the park. And he quickly realized this wasn’t going to be a simple close. Something on the other side, a much larger demon entity, was trying to rip it open wider.

“Nope.” Strange would not allow that to happen. It wouldn’t do to have a larger army or stronger demons enter Earth. This did, however, mean that he would have to exert more energy than was strictly good for him.

He’d be lucky to come out of this exhausted.

Hands outstretched and trembling, silver light shot from him and latched to the edges of the tear, not unlike stitches.

On the other side of the tear, the demons fought harder to keep the wound torn open.

Strange could hear the chaos around him. The shouts and screams and explosions and growls as every beast, no doubt, turned its attention solely onto killing him. But he had to rely on the others to hold them off, otherwise, hell really would break loose.

Iron Man had promised so Stephen kept focused on his part.

There was something right behind him, a horrible sound, but Strange couldn’t turn to look and check on what happened. Instead, he forced more of himself, more of his energy into it. Because there was no way he was going to let even an army of demons stop him from defending the Earth.

His power flew from him, like blood out of a slashed artery. He’d probably not be able to channel dimensional energy for days after this. Wong would be pissed and give one of his famous lectures. Help probably would have made this easier, but Wong was still unsteady from the last fight they’d had, Strange wasn’t going to make the man come fight this too.

Strange felt weak, frail. But it didn’t matter. He was focused, and no matter how much struggle was opposing him…the rip closed.

It sealed as his vision started to tunnel, and he had just enough wherewithal to double check that it was perfectly closed, before his eyes rolled back.

He felt something collide with him as the world went dark. Something metal and somehow still gentle.

-

Strange gasped awake.

“Easy there, Doc.” Iron Man’s tin-y voice said. “You’re safe. You passed out on us and they went for you the second that happened. Like piranhas after fresh meat.”

Strange groaned and nodded, unable to do much else as he lay helplessly on the…couch?

“You nearly got yourself eaten, according to Iron Man.” Tony Stark spoke.

“Not a great plan, by the way.” Iron Man added.

Strange barely knew Tony Stark, but he’d met him once or twice. The man didn’t talk to him much, but gave Rodgers quite a cold shoulder…which, fair. It endeared him a little to the billionaire that they both struggled with Roger’s particular brand of…sanctimoniousness.

Stark was kneeling over Iron Man who was reclined against a wall in very damaged armor.

Strange would have winced if he had the energy to move. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“This…dumbass,” Stark glared at Iron Man, “took a pretty nasty hit. Ended up in a crater in the ground and instead of stopping when the structural integrity alarms went off, he kept fighting.” The mechanic tilted his head toward Iron Man, but Strange couldn’t see his face. “I did make that flashing light particularly bright for a reason, you know? Even made it bigger when you shut off the audible alarm. But when do you ever listen to reason or rules?”

Iron Man snorted. “Never. I throw out manuals when I get them.”

“That much is certain. Could maybe listen to the blatant warnings though. Or stop when structural integrity comes into question.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Iron Man asked.

Strange tried to focus. Iron Man, very likely, had broken bones. The way his left side was crunched in over his shoulder and upper arms made the other side very unlikely. And while Stark wasn’t pointing it out, Strange knew. The crash he’d heard…was Iron Man taking a hit that had been meant for him. Iron Man had been right behind him, watching his back exactly as he’d promised to.

The sound had been right behind him…the hit had been meant for him and likely would have killed Strange.

Iron Man took it instead.

Then he’d gotten up, against any better judgement and against all warnings, kept fighting, then protected Strange again and gotten him out when he’d passed out. “Is he physically okay?” Strange asked. He wasn’t sure he could move much, but he’d go full doctor if he had to.

“Oh, Iron Man? He’ll be fine. The suit will need lots of work, but currently the hard part is getting him out of it.”

“Come on, it’s a sturdy tin can, I’ll be fine.”

Strange very much doubted it.

Iron Man seemed to know his doubts. “Bruises and a few lacerations…and minor whiplash. I’ll be fine once he can get to the emergency latches. They may have bent so that the suit won’t. Come. Off. Gotta fix that on the next upgrade.” Iron Man thunked his head back against the wall.

“Thank you for the feedback, I’ll be sure to note it.” Stark responded dryly.

“Are you alright, Gandalf? You passed out on me. Felt like I was the wizard saving the princess for once.” Iron Man commented looking up again.

“Magic exhaustion. It’s like the worst fatigue you’ve had in your life…multiplied by mono.” It left his entire body sore and feeling like dead weight. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to actually stand up on his own for a day. Thankfully Cloak could help him, because it would just be fucking embarrassing to ask Wong to help him get to his feet.

“Fuck. That sounds awful.”

“I fought something pretty awful yesterday that had me tired enough and then today… There was something fighting me on the other side of that rift. I’m…” Strange trusted Iron Man, but wasn’t sure about Stark. He glanced at both of them before he admitted it. “I’m not going to be well for a while.”

“Yeah…just looked like a light show to me, some cheap birthday pyrotechnics, but whatever you say, Doc.” Iron Man teased, but there was concern in his voice.

That concern, and how much he’d given to help Strange. It warmed Strange’s heart in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

A way he thought he’d closed off. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to care for others in that romantic capacity anymore. Especially after how much he’d poured out before and just how horrific it had gone. He’d closed that door and focused on his loved ones and his friends. Letting only very, very specific people in. He had too many people to care for and to protect to end up with someone harmful potentially hurting those he cared for…again.

Apparently, Iron Man was wriggling past his walls.

“You should probably be with your wizards, healing up in that haunted house.” Iron Man said. “I can call Wong.”

Stephen wanted to quip about how Iron Man had mentioned being alright with him getting that armor off…especially since he was currently stuck in it. But Strange was entirely too fucked up to help…and he didn’t want to flirt in front of a practical stranger. Seemed…wrong. Instead he sighed and closed his eyes. “He’s gonna kill me for this.”

“No. I won’t.” Wong said as he appeared through a portal, arms folded in front of his chest. “But you will die, that much I can assure you.”

Then Strange realized how true that was.

He was definitely going to get smothered to death over this. At least he adored the person who would smother him endlessly.

“Well…good luck with that, Doctor Wizard. Should I send flowers?”

Strange groaned. “I like dotted blazing stars.” Strange could remember the field of them not far from the farm he’d grown up on. His mother and sister loved them. He found himself fond of them as well in their memory.

“Oddly specific. I’ll see if any florists have some. Text me so I know you got home safe,” Iron Man teased. “Rest in peace, Wizard.”

“Thanks. Good luck getting a can opener for that.”

Iron Man laughed.

 

2: First Date

 

They texted.

A lot.

It was actually kind of excessive, to a point where Stephen had to use talk to text for it all damn day because with everything he normally had to do…fine motor skills were not good enough to do all his normal work on top of non-stop texting.

After Stephen had woken in Stark’s lab of all places and gotten pulled back home by Wong, he’d seen the actual news. Seen how Iron Man had been absolutely smashed in Stephen’s place. The man had obviously been dazed, because it took him a moment to get back up. But he had, and he’d fought. Then the second Strange had started falling limp in the Cloak’s hold. Iron Man had shot to him and carried him away, returning back to the fight minutes later, even with obviously very damaged armor.

Iron Man had kept him safe. Had taken him away from the fight. Had made damn sure that Strange wouldn’t be injured.

They’d always worked well together but that? It was different.

And they must have both noticed it, because he’d gotten a text shortly after.

Iron Man:

You okay, wizard? I wouldn’t normally say this, but you looked shitty yesterday.

Like…the half-dead kind of shitty.

I was sorta being serious about you texting once you got home safe.

Stephen had been in bed being smothered, as he’d expected, when he got the texts. He blinked himself more awake and responded.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Alive, but resting. Not allowed to do magic for a week.

Normally he wouldn’t admit weakness to anyone, not even allies unless it was 100% necessary…but he trusted Iron Man.

Iron Man:

Awwww. No pretty sparkles or light shows? That’s sad. If it were New Years my day would be ruined.

But seriously, are you okay? Do you need anything?

You looked like you were knocking on heaven’s door.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Which version are you talking about?

Iron Man:

Guns N’ Roses. Duh. Who else?

Wait. You prefer Dylan, don’t you?

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Definitely. It’s the superior version.

Bob Dylan 1973

Iron Man:

Respectfully, you’re wrong. But it is a respectable choice.

Stop dodging or I’ll come find you in that haunted house myself.

Stephen looked down at his snuggling companion and knew he definitely couldn’t have that. One of his first acts as sorcerer supreme had been to hide her, Margaret. He’d done everything he could to wipe her from existence so no one could link her to him. He had too many enemies and she was just a baby.

Very few people knew she existed, let alone that she was his daughter. One of the three people who knew she was his daughter was dead and the only two alive who knew was Wong and Christine. Well, the Cloak knew too, but that was a given.

Sure, she had a normal life. Teachers. Doctors. Classes. Friends. And he picked her up from places and dropped her off, sure. But not as himself. She was smart enough to understand why and she didn’t tell people who she was outside of the home.

The last thing Strange needed, was Iron Man bursting in to try to help him and…finding her. Much as he trusted the man with his own life…Margaret was far more precious to him.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I’m fine. Thank you.

Wong wants me doing a lot of boring sleeping for a while.

I’ll put up with it for about a day or two then I’ll give him hell until he lets me move at least a little.

Iron Man:

Well, that sounds familiar. I do the same.

If you do need anything, just ask. I don’t think I’ve seen you that pasty before. Kinda freaked me out, Doc.

There was a pause as Stephen thought of how to respond. Then another text came through.

I worry about you.

And holy hell, Stephen’s heart fluttered just a little bit. Which was ridiculous and juvenile, but he’d never tell anyone it happened, so it was fine. No one really worried about him, not for most of his life, anyway. The first time he’d ever really felt like someone cared if he came home…

Was when Margaret was born.

Because if he stayed too long at work, well, she always knew. It was as if she’d timed how long his shifts were. And if he was ever late, she wouldn’t wail, she would actually get a grumpy little pout on her face and outright refuse to sleep until he came home. It was…kind of adorable, that grumpy pout. He had pictures of it, and it still crossed her face whenever he came back from a fight less-than-perfectly-healthy.

Strange swallowed, hard. He wasn’t used to many people caring.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Flattered. Except for the bit about my complexion. That was bad lighting, for sure.

Iron Man:

I would say you SHOULD be flattered, but I worry about everything.

Also, wasn’t the lighting, pretty sure you look good in any lighting. That was just pasty…and a little green.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Rude. I retract my flattered.

Iron Man:

Suppose I’ll have to try harder then, gorgeous.

To be fair, you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen with fatigue times mono.

Stephen laughed, which shook his little cuddle monster awake.

“Daddy? You ‘kay?” Margaret’s hands tightened in his t-shirt like the little limpet she was.

“Yes, Magpie. I’m okay.” He kissed her forehead at her hairline.

“Can I get you anything?” Margaret asked in a sleepy voice, opening her blue grey eyes to look up at him. Those eyes were his. In fact, she looked very much like him. Little of her appearance came from her mother…which was good or bad, depending on who you asked. Her mother was beautiful…but too many shades of fucked up and hazardous.

“I’m okay, button. I just need rest. It’s fatigue, like last time, remember? And with Uncle Wong a few months ago? I’m fine, it passes, I promise. Like a cold.”

“Can I get you water or tea? That helps me feel better. An’ you gotta stay hydreted.”

“HydrAted.” He corrected gently. “Tea would be nice, sweetie, thank you so much for thinking of me. Don’t use the stove by yourself, ask your uncle for help, okay?”

“Okay!” Maggie took off. “Uncle Woooooooong!”

Strange let out a soft laugh. “Ooooooh, that’s going to start his day off right.” His whole body hurt and if she’d willingly run off to get him something to drink, that would be lovely, and he was never not going to encourage her nurturing nature. She cared and liked to help. He’d teach her to help herself, certainly, but that drive to help others? He definitely wanted her to keep that goodness, so he’d reward her for it every time she acted in kindness.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Think you can do better than that.

Iron Man:

Challenge accepted, Dr. Feelgood.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Motley Crue 1989

So unoriginal. Low hanging fruit. I expect better of you.

Iron Man:

Oh no. Don’t have expectations.

I’m awful with those.

The insecurity was blatant. Obviously, the man must have so many pressures and expectations on him and felt like he couldn’t hold to them.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

You do just fine.

It told Stephen so much that he changed the topic immediately, unable to take the compliment.

Iron Man:

Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Sauron?

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I will, just after my tea is delivered to me by my carer.

Iron Man:

Don’t see Wong as a carer…also, can’t imagine him in a nurse uniform. Also, don’t ask why my brain thought of that to begin with, I don’t know, nor are there enough therapists to figure it out. I’m sorry for the bad image I’ve now imposed on you.

Please get some rest. When you feel a little better, let me know. Or if you feel worse, let me know. I don’t know what I could do, but I would help.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Thanks for that image. I need bleach.

So you think you’d look better in a nurse uniform? Remains to be seen. Speaking of which, did you manage to get out of that suit safely?

Iron Man:

I’d slay in a nurse’s uniform, thank you very much. Just ask, honey. 😉

I got out of it. Unfortunately it wasn’t YOU pulling it off as planned, maybe later though, if you play your cards right.

Strange blushed then jumped when his door opened. “Daddy! I have the tea and water and some honey toast.”

“And meds.” Wong added as he held the door for her.

Margaret must have insisted on carrying the tray, but it was teetering rather precariously in her arms as she balanced the two cups of liquid on it.

“Oh, Magpie, that’s very sweet of you.” He tried to sit up to help her, but couldn’t manage it. Pain flared in his side but he kept from making a sound. Exhaling harshly through his teeth instead.

“Don’t get up, Daddy, I have it.” She managed to put it on his side table as Wong put the medicine down there too.

“Good work, little Strange.” Wong ruffled her hair. “Go get your breakfast while it’s still hot, little one, then you can come back and look after your dummy father, yeah?”

“He’s not a dummy.”

“Aw, my little defender.” Strange cooed as his daughter went away. “That’s totally not going to last. She’s surrounded by too much snark; she’s eventually going to bad mouth the hell out of me.”

“That’s why I let you enjoy it while it lasts, you’ll get what’s coming to you. Karma will side with me.” Wong shrugged before he helped Strange sit up against his headboard. This time, he did groan.

“Fuck.”

“Really overdid it, huh?” Wong frowned in sympathy. “That sucks. You’re going to be in bed for a while.” He offered a couple pills and a half-filled cup of ice water. “You need anything?”

“I should be fine, between the cloak and Margaret. They’ll mother the hell out of me.”

“If you do need me, just ask.”

“Thank you.” Strange said before he downed the medicine. “She isn’t going to die down there in the kitchen, is she?”

“The sanctum wouldn’t hurt her.” Wong scoffed. “It loves her.”

“I’m more worried about the stove, that thing’s five years past broken.”

“If it did catch fire, the sanctum would put it out, seriously, she’s fine. Focus on you, when she’s out of your sight I’ll babysit.”

That was a relief and Strange would say he was lucky Wong adored Margaret…but everyone adored her. She was adorable and a sweetheart, it came with the territory.

His phone went off.

Iron Man:

Only after you rest, of course. Seriously, sleep.

Wong looked at the phone then looked at Strange and raised an eyebrow. “You’re texting now?”

Strange actually managed not to blush. “So it would seem.”

Wong was silent for a moment. “Dibs on best man.”

“Please, as if you’re better than Levi or Margaret.”

Wong blinked. “Fair is fair. But seriously, give that a shot, Strange. I think he could be good for you. Don’t let the past keep you from trying again.”

-

They texted nonstop. If Strange was awake, it seemed Iron Man was too and he readily answered and tried to brighten Stephen’s mood with flirting and flattery and jokes and banter and playful arguments, usually about music. It kept Stephen sane as he was bedridden much longer than he thought he would be, which was grating. He wasn’t even allowed to astral project for fuck’s sake.

Iron Man helped though.

And then, there was the offer.

Iron Man:

Can’t dress up as a nurse, sadly, secret identity and all, but I would help you in person. Movies and cuddles to distract you from the misery. Maybe like a date?

If not for me, for Wong.

The second text had come after Strange hadn’t answered, mostly because he’d passed out. But it was obvious he’d gotten anxious about asking and tried to make a joke out of it. Iron Man had a habit of that.

Strange apologized for his late answer and explained he’d passed out, but agreed to the date, because it did sound nice.

Which is why he was currently being held upright by the Cloak, who was in the shape of a knit jumper and was (totally) keeping him from faceplanting, as he rode an elevator up to a penthouse. It was…odd, to say the least. Being in a building like this again. It reminded him of his old home. He missed it sometimes, not really for the stuff or for the view, but for the memories. For when he’d first seen his daughter roll over and walk. When he’d first heard her babble.

He shook his head and felt the Cloak squeeze around him gently. The elevator slowed for a moment before a voice spoke.

“Access to top floor granted. Welcome, Dr. Strange.” A male voice spoke. One he’d heard before. JAVIS. He knew JARVIS helped in Iron Man’s suit, but must have also watched over his home.

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

“You remember me? I don’t believe we’ve spoken before.” JARVIS commented as the elevator stopped. The doors did not open though.

“I heard Iron Man speak of you. I know you help him quite a bit. I have someone who helps me too.” Stephen could feel his collar tug in a little wave.

“Ah, yes. Hello, Levi.” JARVIS greeted politely in return.

The doors opened as the Cloak lifted his arm in a full wave.

“Ah! I’m attached to that. Please don’t move me so fast.” Strange groaned in pain and his arm was lowered, pressed to his chest and gently squeezed in an apologetic way. “It’s okay.” He reassured.

“You…look like you should still be sleeping.”

Seeing Iron Man fully suited up made him feel a bit inadequately dressed. No fault of the Cloak, of course.

“I’m okay.” Strange could stand, after all. So that’s all that really mattered. He’d been through far worse. Still not able to use magic, but who needed that when standing up was all one had?

“You can wear casual clothes, Merlin.” His head tracked up and down as he walked forward.

“Can’t say the same for you.” Strange teased good naturedly. Much as they joked about getting him out of that suit…Strange understood his desire to protect his identity. He assumed the man probably had family he loved and wanted to protect. Strange had his own secret and he’d protect Margaret from his enemies to the death. He wouldn’t tell Iron Man about his daughter until he was absolutely sure she’d be safe. Why wouldn’t Iron Man be much the same about his friends and family? He hadn’t had a problem when Iron Man had commented that he wouldn’t be showing his face right away.

Strange certainly understood.

“I have you.”

Strange flushed a little when a hand landed on his lower back in support. He…was not used to getting help. In fact, he did his best to reject it flat out, but…well, it was kind of nice. Iron Man helped him over to the sofa.

“Sorry. I may not be the best company.” The trip had winded him more than he’d thought it would. He thought he was up for a simple walk, but it seemed that it wasn’t the case. He hurt everywhere and was tired.

“It’s alright. We’ve all been there. Well, I haven’t been magically exhausted to the point of passing out, but you get my meaning.” Iron Man said with a laugh. “Make yourself at home, for real, sit, please. You look exhausted. I mean…you look great, really, but…tired. Also…is that, is that your cloak?”

The collar of the Cloak wiggled again.

“He…cosplays?” Strange could hear the adoring smile on Iron Man’s face. “I love it. You make a lovely jumper, Cloak. That knit pattern is a great look on you.”

“Cloak’s flattered.” Strange translated the little wiggle the cloak did around him.

“No, he’s flattering, no offense but he’s the one pulling the outfit together.”

Strange couldn’t help but laugh. That was very fair. “Don’t flatter him too much, he’ll end up full of himself. And he’s kind of my whole support system at the moment.”

“Aw, Cloak, you’re the best, helping our Merlin while he’s not feeling great. I’m going to try to help too, you okay with that?”

Stephen actually adored that. Iron Man always treated Cloak as sentient. Always had. The second he’d seen Cloak poke Strange’s cheek in irritation, he seemed to just accept it and know. Strange had a thing, a way of judging people really. The people who treated the Cloak with the respect deserved…well, they were the better sort of people.

The Cloak seemed content and shifted shapes into a scarf instead, wrapping around Stephen’s neck loosely, leaving Strange in the purple button up he’d had underneath.

“All dressed up for me?”

“Why should I dress down? I mean, you suited-up, I may as well too.”

“Fair enough. I figured you weren’t the super snack-y type.”

“You figured right.”

“And I knew you were sick, so I leaned toward lighter things? I wasn’t sure.”

“I’m sure it’s all fine.” Strange had been existing off of tea, his daughter’s favorite treats that she kept sneaking onto his bed and side-table like she was some sort of snack dispenser (the sheer amount of fruit gummy packages and Andes chocolate mints were probably going to break his bedframe at some point), and whatever she and Wong put together. Honestly, he’d been too tired to eat much. Sleeping had been his main thing. He was pretty sure he’d dropped a couple pounds and he really didn’t care. He still wasn’t hungry. Not much. “You covered snacks. I covered films, as promised. And I have to tell you, you’re broken and I need to fix you.”

Strange hadn’t watched a lot of…normal films recently. The ones he saw the most of were animated ones, Back to the Future, and Doctor Who which was Margaret’s favorite thing to watch in general…even if she jumped away from all the monsters and aliens.

However, the Princess Bride was also in the rotation and she adored it and Strange adored it. In fact, pretty much everyone who saw it loved it. Which was why he was absolutely appalled that Iron Man admitted to never seeing it when Strange mentioned it among his favorites.

“Fix me, huh? I pegged you as a fixer type, but leading with it? Pretty bold.”

“Don’t make it so easy then.” Stephen teased.

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty good at the broken part.” The self-deprecating humor, hiding something pained. Likely something he’d been told too often.

“Don’t worry. It’s an easy fix. I can diagnose the rest later…if I find anything.” He reached into the small bag he’d brought and held out his copy of The Princess Bride. Iron Man said he had a way to play physical media, might as well bring it with him. He held it out to Iron Man.

Silence hung between them as Iron Man stared at the film.

No.

He wasn’t staring at the film case.

Iron Man was staring at Strange’s hand.

“Sorry. You always wear the gloves…” Iron Man took the case and put it on the coffee table, which Strange actually glanced at now, finding a spread of healthy snacks and all sorts of drinks. Then he returned his attention to Iron Man, who reached out slowly and it was really remarkable how gentle the man could be while piloting the suit, because Strange barely felt the pressure of the touch. “I’m sorry, they must hurt.”

“All the time.” Strange agreed. “Some days are worse than others. I’m mostly used to it…but…I don’t usually like when people…look at them.” He didn’t need the pity. It was his sins…his mistakes and worst qualities…played out on his skin.

“Would you be against me holding your hands or not? What’s most comfortable for you? Have I ever hurt you helping you up before? I should make a mental note to grab your forearms instead.”

“It’s fine. Just…not too tight. If they’re particularly painful…I’ll let you know. Thank you for asking.” Strange knew it would come up at some point, he just hadn’t expected such…softness about them. Most looked disgusted when they saw his scars.

“I have scars too.” Iron Man said, as if reading his mind. “It’s no worries. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He got up and put the film in before he returned to Strange’s side. They didn’t start it first. Chit-chatting instead.

It was, admittedly, a little weird, going on a date with someone in a full suit of metal armor, but they made it work, though it made it hard to read Iron Man’s emotions at times, even though his voice tended to be emotive.

“I…need to ask a question. Pretty personal one.”

“No, I won’t tell you my name yet, Merlin.” Iron Man said with a laugh.

“I um… I’ll be honest. I haven’t dated…at all in a very long time. Not since before I was married.”

“I didn’t know you were married.” Iron Man said after a beat of silence.

“It ended…rather messily about three years ago.”

“Right before… Shit.”

Yes, the divorce had barely been finalized before Stephen had ended up in the accident that destroyed his hands. He was just glad Margaret had gotten sick and been home with a sitter that night instead of being in the car with him. She likely wouldn’t have survived the crash. “I don’t want to get into a mess like that again. I know I’m a fixer, but I learned in that and in everything that came after that I…really can’t fix everything.”

“What did she do?” Iron Man asked, concerned.

“She was an addict.” They’d been drawn together in college. They were just so different. She’d been lighter, more fun. Had loosened him up a bit. She got him to laugh, to try new things. He knew she drank and did occasional drugs, she’d never lied about that…she had lied about how much, however. He helped her though, when she’d really begun to spiral, he helped her get back on track. She was so smart and he didn’t want her good qualities wasted away by bad decisions. He’d done all he could to help and support…

She’d gotten clean again. He thought.

She’d lied. She’d used his success, his money, to keep her habit up. And she’d found her fun outside of their marriage while he worked unknowingly to feed her addictions and dalliances. The only thing he still loved her for was that she’d stayed sober while she was pregnant. She’d done that much for Margaret, and he couldn’t hate her for making sure their daughter was untouched as possible by her own bad decisions—though she had been born a little too early.

She’d gotten worse afterwards. Spiraled.

He’d thought it was PPD at first, but no, she’d just needed her fix after too long. Strange tried to help her again. Therapy. Meetings. Everything. He did everything he could while trying to run their family and raise their daughter. He just wanted to fix it all.

Until he’d seen the neglect and abuse she’d been inflicting on Margaret when he wasn’t home. Until he’d seen the danger she was putting their child in.

He’d dropped everything to get Margaret away from her. Even switched hospitals and homes just to get them away from where she frequented. It had been horrifically messy.

“I can’t do that again. I can’t…live like that again.”

“Well, I’ll talk about it. You can’t fix an addict, Stephen, they have to want to fix themselves. So whatever happened, that wasn’t on you. She needed to put the work in.” Iron Man said. “In honesty, I have done drugs, way back when. Went to a few parties I definitely should not have been to in college. Got talked into things that weren’t great for me. Never did it outside of social occasions and haven’t done any…prescription or otherwise in…God…twelve years?”

“It’s been fifteen, actually.” JARVIS piped up.

“How do you know that?” Strange asked curiously.

“I’m Tony Stark’s AI. I know everything. And I certainly know Iron Man’s history, inside and out. I wouldn’t let just anyone look after Sir.”

That made sense.

“I did have a bad relationship with alcohol for a time. Worked on getting clean from that about eight years ago. I did slip up once, I’ll admit it… I had a drink after flying a nuke into space.”

Strange took in a slow breath and nodded his head.

“I regretted it, but that was a whole ass day. All that to say. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve made shit mistakes, but I want to be the best man I can be and I know I can’t do that while self-medicating and I know I have problems. That’s why I don’t keep any and I don’t go to places where drinking is an expectation. I’m not stupid enough to think I’d have control if I had one glass. Sure, that’s what happened last time, but I don’t think I’m over it just because I put the work in for a little while. I’m going to have to keep working, probably forever, but I want to, because I prefer me like this. Besides, dark humor is a way better coping skill.” He teased with a nudge to Stephen’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” Stephen laughed then nodded. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Of course. I don’t…need you to fix me. If I’m fucking up, that’s on me. But…I have made mistakes, I’ll admit that, but I’m also fighting against those things every day. And so far, I’m doing really good. Just over two years without a drop and six years before that.” His voice grew painfully serious and intense. “Whatever she did, whatever hell she put you through, I’m sorry. That wasn’t on you. She was sick and should have gotten her shit together. Her choices aren’t on you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Stephie.”

Stephen snorted. “Sorry about the serious.”

“Oh, no worries. It’s obviously an important deal-breaker thing for you, may as well put that on the table, right?”

“Any deal-breakers you need to get out there?” Stephen asked.

Iron Man took a breath. “One of them, I know you’d already understand. The other, I’m not ready to discuss just yet.”

“Which one do I understand?”

“I’m Iron Man. I can’t change that, I can’t take that away. It’s…as real as the civilian part of me.”

Stephen nodded. He couldn’t not be a sorcerer anymore, he understood completely. “I get that, I do. And…I have something else, but…we’ll get to that later. Cross both of our bridges further down the line, huh?”

“Yeah. You look tired. Cuddles and movies?”

Strange raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to his metal suit. “Sorry, doesn’t look super comfy. In fact, are you comfortable in there?”

“In here? Psh. Yeah. It’s lovely. Stark is kinda a hedonist. This thing is luxurious. Fits like a glove, temperature’s perfect, super soft and comfy while still being strong and structured, it’s great. Like wearing weighted PJs all the time. Wouldn’t be so nice for you to cuddle with though, no. If…you promised not to look though…”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I believe that about you.”

“If you do that though, I will very likely fall asleep. I won’t be good company asleep.”

“Eh, you need the sleep and I get that.”

“Okay.”

“Eyes closed, Merlin.”

Strange closed his eyes. It was a few seconds before he felt Iron Man stand, then the sounds of metal shifting and opening with whirrs. He wasn’t tempted to look. He’d been tempted by that earlier. He could have very easily looked at Iron Man at any point. Magic could have revealed him in a split second. It wouldn’t even be hard. But…Stephen understood secrecy.

A few seconds later, a hand gently found his upper arm and pulled him, only a little. Strange went with the tug and snorted a little when he ended up the little spoon. That had never happened in his life. He couldn’t say it was unpleasant though.

He took in the warmth of the embrace gratefully as that warmth seemed to hum through his body. It took them a few moments to settle, by which time Stephen realized something. Iron Man was definitely shorter than him and shorter than he thought, given that the suit was taller than him.

“That suit gives you a few inches.”

A playful pinch met his arm, but he heard and felt a soft laugh. “Only in height. Got everything else covered.” A whisper met his ear. Too quiet to know what his full voice sounded like, but enough to actually hear him. “You have way more muscles than your robes and shirt let on.” He said in that same whisper, hand wandering across his abs. “I’m a little surprised, but in a good way.”

“Do a lot of martial arts and yoga.” Stephen explained, slowly taking that hand in one of his own, glad when the shorter man didn’t squeeze him too tightly, but also didn’t shy away from the contact out of fear.

“That second one has me intrigued, not gonna lie. You’re muscly as hell, doc.”

Strange couldn’t tell too much about Iron Man from how they lay, except that the man was a space heater in a way that he himself was not and that his chest was…oddly firm. An implant of some kind to help with the suit? He didn’t know. But it didn’t feel natural. What he could feel, was the soft scratch of a beard at the back of his neck and the thick callouses on his hands.

Iron Man worked very hard and used his hands a lot outside of the suit, that much was obvious.

“Is this okay?” Iron Man asked gently. “Know it’s been a little bit for you. Let me know if anything’s ever too much.”

“I’m fine.” It was almost overwhelming, of course. His wife had begun withdrawing shortly after Margaret had been born. He still cringed at the fights, the neglect. How absolutely exhausted he’d been. He wasn’t perfect, sure, but he’d given so much and received absolutely nothing but pain for it. It had been years, decades if one counted his time loops, since he’d felt any romantic affection directed towards him and it…it was lovely.

“Good, tell me if anything changes. You can open your eyes if you like, just don’t turn around. I’ll work on educating myself on The Princess Bride and you...” He ran fingers through Strange’s hair in a way that made him melt.

It was so comforting and gentle and kind and…and he was just so tired and sore. He wanted to be present. He liked Iron Man, after all. He wanted to be there for their first date, but then Iron Man pulled him back a little more and soothed a calloused thumb over the back of his hand while his other soothed through his hair again.

Yep. He was going to pass out very quickly, he knew that. This was simply too nice. The warmth, the safety, the calmness, the gentility… The music started as the film began and he found he didn’t want to open his eyes. It was just too pleasant as it was.

“You get some rest, Stephie. I’m here. I’ll look after you. I have you.”

Somehow, that was all he needed to hear as it sent him off almost immediately to sleep. And he was pretty sure he imagined the soft press of lips to the nape of his neck.

“Goodnight, Stephen.”

He pretty sure he loved him.

 

3: Helping Broken Hands

 

The mug shattered on the ground, slipping from Strange’s shaky, agonized hands. It was a bad day. He’d woken up in so much pain he hadn’t been able to even open his medication bottle to try to help them. Then shit hit the fan and he’d been called to help with the Avengers. Now, he was supposed to go to a debrief. In agony. No pain meds. And pushing toward extreme dehydration and he couldn’t even hold a cup long enough to take a damn drink.

“Go sit down at the table, Stephie.” Iron Man said, appearing over his shoulder.

“I need-”

“I know. I’ve got it. Go to the meeting, I’ll be right behind you.”

Stephen was absolutely defeated, angry, and ashamed all at the same time. He felt so weak and useless, leaving a mess of broken glass on the floor of the communal Avenger’s kitchen. He sat down at their meeting table, wishing he could just go home and slam his head into something until he passed out so he wouldn’t have to be awake to be in this agony.

“Let’s begin. Where…where’s Iron Man? He had a head start.” Captain Rogers frowned and then rolled his eyes. “Where’d he go?”

“Sorry, everyone. Worked up a fucking sweat out there today. Figured we could all use a drink.”

Stephen didn’t know how the fuck he even did it. But the man brought in a tray of glasses of water…all of them with ridiculously long silly straws. Who the fuck had silly straws?

Iron Man sat them all out in front of everyone, making sure Stephen’s was close enough that all he had to do was lean forward, which he did and took several amazing, refreshing pulls of ice-cold water. He let out a breath of relief.

“Where does one get silly straws?” Clint asked. “Asking for me. Totally asking for me, these are flipping awesome.”

“Ask Stark, it’s his place. May have been a prank gift or something. I don’t know. He has weird things.” Iron Man shrugged before he plopped into a seat next to Stephen.

“That’s true.” Natasha agreed. “He once gave me a bandage that had bacon on it.”

“I bet those would be hilarious covering a burn.” Clint snorted. “Can I raid his stuff to find more of these straw thingies? The liquid does flips and loopies and my inner child is nourished.”

Iron Man snorted.

Stephen frowned. “Pretty sure he gives enough as is…no matter how nice the straws are.” It was just rude to imply taking more from the man, especially when he obviously gave so much. The tower, the equipment, the literally everything…just seemed off to talk about raiding Stark’s things.

Iron Man leaned closer to him and whispered. “Do you have anything for that?” He tilted his head slightly down toward where Stephen hid his hands on his lap.

Stephen shook his head, then his eyes widened. He opened a portal and pulled a bottle through it before holding it out to Iron Man under the table.

Iron Man looked at it. Read the label. Then opened it and gave Stephen one more than he should have. “Doctor’s orders.” He put the pills into Strange’s palm, not on the table. He must’ve known Stephen didn’t have the dexterity to pick them up if they were set down.

“You’re not a doctor, but you are correct in this case.” Stephen barely managed to get them to his mouth without dropping them before he downed them with the water. It would only take the edge off, but maybe then he’d semi-function. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Everything alright?” Captain Rogers wondered.

“Peachy. Go ahead, Cappy.” Iron Man saluted him.

As they went through the meeting Strange only half-paid attention and spoke only when he had to. It took way too long to end, but when it did, Iron Man asked him to stay behind. Strange only slouched after everyone but Iron Man was gone.

A metallic hand rubbed between his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Bad day?”

“Fucking awful.”

“I have chronic pain too. Bad days are the worst. What helps you?”

“I usually just try to sleep or meditate through it. Nothing really helps. Medicine only dulls it a little.”

Iron Man leaned back a bit. “Oh, shit, it’s your hands. I’m an idiot. Everything has to be near…”

“Impossible to do, yeah.” Strange agreed. He felt useless and weak and so damn fragile.

“Come with me.”

Miserable, Strange followed Iron Man to the elevator.

“Where are you going?” JARVIS asked.

“Stark’s lab.”

“Sir is not currently there and Dr. Strange is not on the permitted guest list.”

“Is the BMP in effect?”

“No.” JARVIS responded.

“And will I disturb anything top secret if we go?”

There was a pause. “No. All working projects are largely hidden.”

“Cool. Use my override: Inner Circle.”

“Understood.” The elevator doors opened. “Dr. Strange, you are permitted in the lab with Iron Man’s presence. Don’t touch anything.”

“Tact, J.” Iron Man said sharply before he walked Strange down a hallway.

It took Strange a second before he realized why Iron Man had asked for tact and he snorted. “Definitely not touching anything today.” Strange muttered. A door opened along the hallway for Iron Man and he followed the man in the suit. The lab was massive, taking up a whole floor. Lots of projects in the works, neat and orderly. Strange spotted the sofa and sat down on it.

Iron Man moved around like he’d been in the lab a lot, which made sense. He’d probably been in here a lot, getting maintenance done to his suit or watching over his boss.

Strange sighed and closed his eyes and tried to meditate in hopes he might stop feeling so much pain. He didn’t know why he was there, but he figured Iron Man had a plan of some sort.

There was a beeping sound close to him. He ignored it.

Then he felt something poke his shoulder.

He wrinkled his face and opened his eyes. A robot was…poking him and tilting its arm in a strangely…confused way. It poked him again, as if curious.

The Cloak lifted from his shoulder and poked the robot back, which made the thing roll backwards on its wheels in…shock? Was it…sentient?

“Uh. Hello?”

The robot made a series of beeps and whistles, then it poked at the Cloak and tried to grab at it with its claw.

The Cloak flew back and it seemed the two began a game of tag, each of them fluttering and rolling around and poking at each other as if trying to figure each other out.

“DUM-E, don’t bother them.” Iron Man said as he approached.

“It’s fine. Levi seems to be having fun. Seems like a pretty smart little robot.”

Iron Man sighed. “He’s like a child. He’s smart, yeah, but he’s also likely to wreck your life in an attempt to help. The number of times he’s nearly poisoned me with oil in my coffee…it’s actually lucky I’m alive, frankly. More dangerous than half my enemies, I swear. But he’s a sweetheart, really. Stark’s protective of him…even if he is a dunce sometimes.” Iron Man patted the arm of the bot as he walked by. “Be gentle, bud. Cloak is fabric.”

The bot, DUM-E, gave a chipper whistle as their game of tag expanded across the lab.

“That’s gonna end well… Hopefully Stark put away the oil and extinguishers. DUM-E gets competitive sometimes.” Iron Man sat next to Strange and it was only then that he noticed that Iron Man’s hands were not covered in metal. “Let me help you out. Think this might work. I knew Stark kept some. My supply at home is shit at this point, used it last time I had a flair up. Trust me?”

Strange looked over at him and found that the man had medicated lotion in his hands and gloves of some kind. “Gentle, please.”

“I know.”

Gingerly, Strange offered up his shaking hands.

With the softest of movements, Iron Man removed his gloves from his swollen, irritated hands. “Oh, honey. Let’s try to help this.” Slowly, he massaged the medicine into Strange’s left hand. “Gentle enough?” Iron Man asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Frankly, the air pressure hurts right now, you’re fine though. It’s okay.” Strange leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to keep the pain from his face as a burn began in his eyes. He knew this would help them feel better, but right now it was too much.

The touch from those calloused hands grew lighter somehow. Slowly, there was a hint of relief in his left hand. An almost tingling numbness. “That is not over the counter medicine.”

“This is not available to the population, no.” Iron Man agreed, rubbing in the rest of the lotion before picking up a glove that he’d brought and slipping it onto the hand. “Compression, helps with the inflammation and blood flow. Other hand?”

Stephen offered it freely, then let out a pained groan when Iron Man touched it. His dominant hand was always worse because he put it through more just by the nature of it.

“I’m sorry.” Iron Man held the hand in his own, but without any pressure or weight, just letting it rest between his own. “Easy. You okay if I do this one?”

“Please.”

“Honey, anyone ever tell you your voice is amazing? Seriously. Could get anyone to do anything. That low tone is all sorts of trouble.”

Stephen tensed a little but took a deep breath at the excruciating but still gentle touches. “You normally flirt with people to distract them?”

“Only you, Wizard. But I wasn’t lying. Your voice is amazing. Gives me the fun kind of tingles.”

Without being able to see his face, Strange could tell the man was smirking. He chuckled and then let out a pained noise and yanked back his hand when a thumb traced over a particularly sensitive scar, right over metal plates and screw.

“You know, I’m all for moans, but I’d prefer them to be a different type. Unless you’re into pain. I don’t judge.” Iron Man left his hands out, not moving. His hands perfectly steady in contrast to his own.

Stephen composed himself. “I’ve had quite enough pain in my life. Not my thing.”

“Not mine either.” Iron Man agreed, still waiting with those steady hands. Tan and calloused…strong.

As some of the pain abated Strange gently set his hand back in his. “That one, that scar, hurts the worst. Just…get it over with?”

“Will do.” Iron Man worked quickly, but still gently until the lotion was rubbed in. Then he put on the other glove. “Any better?”

“Mm-hm.” Strange sighed in relief and frowned when he felt the moisture on his face. Before he could rub his cheek against his shoulder, a thumb wiped away the tears with the same gentleness it had applied the lotion.

“Good.”

“Who made that lotion?”

“Boss did. He…” Iron Man seemed to contemplate for a moment. “He took some shrapnel to his chest. Still has pain. The normal stuff didn’t work for him, so he made it better. Gave me some for my injuries. He’s trying to make it commercially available, but the hoops you have to jump through to make medication available to the public are apparently vast in number. He’s frustrated by it.”

“Didn’t know he did medical work.” Strange commented.

“Not often. Not his area of expertise. Apparently got turned down one too many times to collab with doctors, so he did the research himself.”

“Medical hoops are nightmares to work through, that’s for sure. One thing I don’t miss about being a surgeon. The bureaucracy of it all.”

Iron Man was silent for a beat before he began to put the lid back on the lotion. “What do you miss about it?”

“I loved surgery. Loved fixing problems no one else could. I was the very best. The work was good. I loved just being able to use my mind and…” he looked at his hands. “And my hands…back when they were something to marvel at.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was the best at it, I saved lives no one else could.”

A hand, ever so softly landed on his. “And you still do…with these hands. Today you saved lives with them…even while they were in pain. Seems pretty marvelous to me.”

Stephen’s heart warmed and he almost said something, something it was likely too soon to say. Instead, he lifted Iron Man’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Iron Man said.

 

4: Nightmares

 

Stephen really tried to stay awake. He hadn’t been able to spend alone time with Iron Man in a while. He’d just been out of the dimension for a week and now Iron Man was off protecting his boss at some meeting that he couldn’t mention details of.

Still, Iron Man had invited him over. Had said exactly when he’d be home. That he was perfectly fine to stay in his living room until he arrived.

He’d brought dinner, close to when Iron Man was to arrive. Sure, they’d have to work around the identity thing, but whatever, they’d figured out cuddling, they could figure out sharing a dinner.

Strange had made the rather large mistake of sitting on that very plush sofa though. He’d been too caught up with Iron Man the first few times to take in the penthouse before. It was well-furnished, obviously lavish, but spartan. Nothing particularly homey about it. But it a nice place, one he supposed a body guard for the wealthiest man in the world easily managed. But it was missing some smaller things.

Stephen had considered buying him a rock band poster, something Iron Man liked, just to make it look a little less sterile, but he wasn’t sure they were quite to that point yet, especially since it had only been a few months and…he still had no clue what his date looked like, not that it really mattered to him.

Stephen relaxed into the sofa and his body let it be known rather quickly that he’d had too little sleep in the past week. He’d spent his first day at home recovering, but it certainly hadn’t been enough.

He found himself slowly slouching sideways, until his head found a pillow. It was…just too nice. Too soft. Levi seemed to approve, because he found a blanket and draped it over him before relaxing over the armchair.

“Just…just until he shows up, JARVIS. Then…then wake me up.”

“Yes, Dr. Magic.”

Stephen was out in seconds.

A sharp spike shot through him, agony took him.

Strange died.

Then he went back to bargaining.

He was vaporized for his trouble.

Then he went back to bargaining.

“Stephen.”

A blast of energy ripped him in half.

Then he went back to bargaining.

“Sweetie? Stephen?”

His skin was flayed off his body a piece at a time.

Then he went back to bargaining.

“Stephen, wake up, it’s a nightmare.”

Stephen woke with a shout, hand pressed to his chest where something sharp just shoved into it. He gasped and found Iron Man looking down on him. A metal hand was combing through his hair, the other was rubbing gentle circles on his chest, which only reminded him of the spike he’d just felt shoot through him. Iron Man was kneeling next to him, head bowed over him.

Closing his eyes, Stephen gulped at the air, mentally reminding himself that his lungs weren’t filling up with blood. He wasn’t dying. He was alive.

“Deep breaths. It’s okay, you’re safe.” Iron Man soothed. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re in New York, it’s the fifteenth of April. It’s just past eight at night. You’re safe, it’s just you and me here…and Levi.”

Strange felt Levi press down on his legs at that moment, as if the cloak was affirming that yes, it was there too, trying to help. “Thank you.” He whispered to them both, out of breath. “Fuck.”

The hand continued to ruffle his hair, gentle and soothing, despite being covered by a literal super suit. “Easy…do you want to talk?”

“Hand off my chest.”

The hand left him immediately, resting on the back of the sofa instead, the other hand still played with his hair.

“People…say I have a high pain tolerance. That I ignore my own injuries too much.”

“I’m people. I’ve said that.” Iron Man agreed, voice confused.

“Before…before I became sorcerer supreme. Hell, before I even properly finished my training…there was…Dormammu. He was summoned here by sorcerers…he is a devourer from the dark dimension. Destroys everything. Takes it all. We tried to stop him before he could even arrive but…we failed. He came here…he was going to kill everyone.”

“He didn’t. We’re all still here. You stopped him, I promise.” Iron Man reassured him.

“It’s how I stopped him that is the problem.” Strange closed his eyes and fell back onto the pillow, tears leaking from his eyes. “No one else had any ideas and we were all going to die… So…I went alone. I went to face him alone.”

“…Stephen…what happened?”

“I thought I could find a peaceful way to stop it…no deaths. I didn’t want anyone else to die there was already too many people dead and I just wanted to protect people… So, I brought him something from our dimension that he didn’t have in his.” Stephen sighed. “Time. I used a relic to loop time. And I bargained for every life on the planet. I thought if I stayed long enough, the monotony of the loop might break him mentally. And if that didn’t work, then I’d just stay until it did. Until he finally gave up.”

“What happened in the loops?” Iron Man asked after a few moments of silence.

“I died. He killed me. And I just kept coming back. But I remembered all of it. Same as he did. He went on killing me for so long. Took longer than I thought to drive him mad. The loop wasn’t that long, couple minutes max, unless he really drew it out. I was there for centuries. Dying. He was creative…very creative with how to kill me.”

“My God…”

“Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m alive or not. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m really dying or not. Sometimes I get stabbed or shot or cursed and I think I’ll just loop right back around. Pain just…doesn’t mean what it used to and it’s not good, it’s not healthy and I don’t really know when I’m…actually in danger. I dream I’m back there a lot. Takes me a moment to realize I’m alive again. That it’s over. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” Iron Man leaned forward, resting his head on Stephen’s shoulder. The metal cool and grounding against his skin. “You’re safe. You’re alive. And I’m so so sorry about how much pain you’ve gone through.”

“I saved people.”

“And we should all be grateful for it.” He ruffled his hair once more. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Could you hold me?” Stephen hated the frailty in his own voice. Loathed it.

“Yeah. Come on.” Iron Man helped him up half-supporting him as they walked down a hall. He helped Stange into the room and Strange used magic to vanish his jeans and socks away, leaving himself in a t-shirt and boxers. They hadn’t crossed any physical lines before, a couple playful touches while cuddling, but nothing more. They’d agreed on nothing more, but Strange was pretty sure the man wasn’t going to be scandalized with a little more skin. “Could lose the shirt too if you like, I won’t complain.”

The tone was flirty, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Strange often slept without it. So he shrugged it off as well.

“…I’m just going to call you Muscles now instead of Dr. Wizard.”

Strange knew he was trying to cheer him up, but it didn’t quite land. Still he gave a half-smile before he climbed into the bed and closed his eyes.

The familiar whirring of the suit, a quick shuffling of clothes. “Right behind you.” The whisper found him before the bed and blankets shifted. Iron Man slid up behind him, boxers and a tank top. The brush of a beard met the back of his neck as the man nuzzled closer and wrapped around him. “Is this okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“You know…I thought I was robbing the cradle…turns out it’s the other way around, huh?”

Strange snorted. “You don’t seem that much older than me, physically, that is.” He sighed, settling back into that warm embrace. It was gentle but strong and safe and warm and grounding and…alive. Living. The living helped him remember where he was, when he was.

“Got you by about a decade…thought I did anyway. Turns out I like older men, who knew?”

“Age is relative.” Stephen shrugged.

Iron Man grabbed his hand and lifted it, pressing it over Strange’s chest, gently making his fingers uncurl over his chest and pressing his hand down. “Can you feel that?”

Stephen focused. In the quiet stillness, he could feel a beat playing out, a little too quick under his hand. His heart. “Yes.”

“You’re alive, Stephie. This is real. I’m here and I’m going to keep you alive, okay? I kinda like having you around.”

Stephen sniffled, just a little.

Iron Man pulled him a little closer. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay with you…and you’re staying right here.”

Stephen broke into sobs and clung to Iron Man’s arms as the man gently peppered kisses along the back of his neck and his shoulders.

Iron Man whispered sweet nothings the whole time.

Three words bubbled up in Stephen’s throat, but he was too wracked with sobs to get them out.

 

5: Sealed the Deal

 

“No, I can’t help, I don’t feel well enough to fight.” Strange said, one finger over his lips as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. His other hand was laid against Margaret’s forehead. She was burning up and her face was scrunched up in pain.

“Jesus. That’s saying something, coming from you. Do I need to bring you soup or anything, Dr. Feelbad?” Iron Man asked over the phone, concern clear in his tone.

“I’ll manage on my own. Thank you. I can send Wong your way. Safe battle, honey, don’t do anything stupid without me to look after you.” His eyes widened when he saw the telltale sign of a gag.

“Okay but—”

Stephen hung up and held a garbage can in front of his little girl just in time for her to lose her stomach. It broke his heart. His little girl was awfully sick. “I’m sorry, Magpie.” He whispered as she began to sniffle. She was his tough trooper. Usually. But she hated being sick. At six years old, sickness was her archnemesis and she hated it with a passion. Which…fair. He ran a hand through her brown waves. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She cried and made grabby hands at him once she was finished. Always extra needy and dependent when she was sick. Since Dr. Strange was her only parent, he and his wife had a horrific divorce, he’d been in an accident shortly after, they’d been uprooted across the world shortly after that, and she’d nearly died in Kamar Taj on accident after that. Things had only settled into a safe rhythm for them in the past two years. She was a little needy, understandably, to begin with. But when she was sick, she was a limpet that would not let go.

He hoped as time went on, she wouldn’t remember all of the tough times. As it was, she was struggling to remember her mother. She remembered the last…awful bit, but he hoped someday that would fade and that what he was doing now would help build her a stable and safe childhood. The important thing, he knew, was being there for her. They could work on building her independence in a little bit, once making sure she knew he’d always be there, undoing a lot of that early instability. That stuff stuck in brains. Sure, she’d had a secure infancy, but her toddler years had been rough and he needed to try to correct those issues.

So he would be there as much as he could be.

Strange vanished the can away and then picked her up. She curled against him and gripped at his hoodie tightly. “I’ve got you. Let’s get you some cuddles and crackers, medicine, and maybe some sprite, huh?”

Maggie grumbled and nodded into his chest.

He carried her into their living room and settled her down on the sofa as he opened a portal.

Wong looked up through the portal from his space in the library. A grimace filled his face. “Little Miss Strange, are you not feeling good?” If there was one thing that made Wong soften, it was a sick Margaret.

Maggie groaned.

“Avengers need help, can you manage it while I help her?” Strange asked.

“On it.” Wong got up. “Stranger, you be a tough little one for a little bit and I’ll get you your favorite sick treats, okay?”

“Okay.” Maggie said through her tears.

Strange close the portal and got around to taking care of his little girl. Getting her medicine and curling her against his chest as they settled on the sofa fully. She continued to cry gently, even as he put on her favorite music knowing she preferred soft, classical music when she was sick, because the moving pictures often made her feel sicker.

“I don’ feel good.”

“I know, Magpie.” Strange gently rubbed her back. The cloak gently settled over her, like a blanket. The relic adored her probably more than it liked Strange. “You try to get some rest, my sweet girl. Daddy’s got you. All you have to do is rest and drink some water when I need you to, okay?”

“Mmkay.” She nuzzled under his chin, fists tight in his Columbia hoodie. Slowly…she fell into a miserable, unsettled sleep.

“Daddy’s here, sweetie. You’re going to be okay.” Strange promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

-

Tony knew Stephen fairly well. So when the man who barely flinched at most pain, the only notable exception being his hands, called out sick he knew it had to be pretty bad. Especially since he’d never really seen the man sick before.

Okay, Stephen had had a headache once and, yeah he’d been a little melodramatic about it, but hey, everyone had their illnesses that they just couldn’t stand. Rhodey lost it if he got a sore throat and acted like an utter child. Pepper got super petulant if she was nauseous. Tony could not stand colds, which sucked because now he was more prone to them.

Anyways, the fact that Stephen had basically called out was alarming. He’d seen the man half-bleeding to death and still fighting like it was nothing.

So, as soon as the clean-up started. Tony flew away and left the others to it. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t help in other ways anyway. He flew and gathered ingredients for soup, some tissues, all sorts of medicines, and every thing he could think of to ease every illness he could think of.

The Tony flew to the Sanctum. He’d only been inside a few times and the place sort of creeped him out. Apparently…it was sentient. Not in the JARVIS sort of way but kinda in the haunted house sort of way. And that really freaked him out. It only helped a little that Strange seemed to have a little input in the haunted house’s decisions, but not all the time. And that “not all the time” is what made Tony anxious.

Regardless, Tony walked up the stairs. He didn’t have a hand to knock. “Uh…here to help the wizard feel better.”

The haunted house must’ve understood, because the door swung open.

Tony would have called it freaky if he thought the Sanctum wouldn’t retaliate against him for it. He walked in and looked around, having no clue where to start to find him. He…had no clue where the man slept.

He did know where the library was and the man did spend a lot of time there. So Tony started toward the library. When he approached the doors, they opened…into a living room? Yes. He was…in a small apartment instead of the library. Had the Sanctum move the doors?

Tony sighed and walked in. He saw the top of Stephen’s head over the side of the couch. Heard classical music playing. Tony snuck past the sleeping man into the kitchen to make soup for the sleeping man.

Putting the bags down was when he saw it.

A photograph hanging on the wall.

Of Dr. Stephen Strange absolutely beaming as he held an obviously newborn baby. There were lines of exhaustion around his eyes as he held the baby, his hands unmarred. The baby had an almost awed expression on their face as they stared at Stephen…with his exact eyes.

It wasn’t an old photo.

Tony froze, then his eyes saw another one.

This time Strange holding the hands of a little girl in a dress and a diaper as she obviously was trying to learn to walk.

Cross our bridges further down the line, huh? Tony thought.

It made sense now. Why Stephen couldn’t and wouldn’t go through another unhealthy relationship. It wasn’t just himself he was looking after. Stephen was a fixer and ridiculously selfless and self-destructive, that was sure, and Tony was pretty sure he’d deal with whatever burdens his partner threw at him. Stephen would put up with certain things, even if it wasn’t good for him.

But with a child involved? No. Stephen wouldn’t put a child through anything like that, even if Stephen felt like he could handle it for himself.

Tony stepped back around the corner and really saw it.

Pale as a ghost and a little damp, a little girl clung to a sleeping Stephen. Her face pinched in misery, but comforted and safe in her dad’s arms. And she was definitely Strange’s daughter. Her dark waves, her nose, the light freckles, even the cheekbone he could see proved it. As young as she was and as round as her face was, there was still the hint that that girl was going to have immaculate cheekbones…just like her dad.

And it was absolutely beautiful to see them. Stephen’d obviously taken the day off just to look after her and she felt close and safe with him, given the way she clung to him.

Fuck.

Tony was not supposed to see this, he knew that. Stephen had made it clear that there were some things he wasn’t ready to share. This was that thing. That one thing he was still desperately protecting, the one thing Stephen was withholding and guarding at all costs.

Tony could relate.

Slowly and quietly, he left the apartment and left the pair to their sleeping before he flew to SI.

He couldn’t say it was a deal-breaker or even a shocker.

A big reason of why Tony kept his identity secret. Why he hadn’t quite brought himself to tell Stephen…was because down the hall from him…was Peter. His son who he desperately wanted to protect from everything in the world that he knew would hurt him.

“Well shit…” He…was going to have to talk to Stephen about this, that was if Stephen didn’t come to him first. There was no way the man wouldn’t know he’d been there or what he’d seen.

-

Stephen blinked open his eyes. Worked like a charm. If he went to sleep, Margaret would as well. He didn’t know why, but it had worked since she was a baby. She’d be fussy and crying, but if he held her and managed to drift off while she cried, she’d settle right in and take a nap. Perhaps she could just read the room well.

If he relaxed, she could too.

He leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead. Still a little too warm, but a little lower than before. That was good news for her, especially since he hadn’t gotten her medicine in a bit. Stephen nudged Levi gently with his mind and the cloak dutifully helped lift the sleeping girl so Stephen could extract himself from her tight grip, before it gently lowered her to the couch.

He ruffled her hair. “I’ll be right back, my little bird.” Thankfully, she stayed asleep as he rose and stretched his arms over his head. He was way too old to be sleeping on a couch. He walked toward the kitchen and froze. There were bags along the counter. Full of all sorts of medicines and blankets and ingredients for soup and literally anything a sick person might want or need.

Strange hummed. Wong was always a bit softer around Margaret, but never this much. He really shouldn’t have worried so much. It was sweet though and did make Stephen happy that there was someone else in the world who loved his daughter, especially given his line of work.

Then he saw his phone on the counter.

Two missing texts.

Iron Man:

I’m so so sorry.

I hope she feels better soon.

Strange felt a massive weight drop into the pit of his stomach and he glanced at the bags again.

There were none of Margaret’s spearmint candies. They were among the very few things that helped her feel better when she had the stomach flu. Wong knew that because he’d used the same ones and offered her one a year prior when she’d been sick for days and they’d all been relieved to find that they helped her too. She’d nearly had to be hospitalized, when they finally found something that settled her enough so she could eat.

If Wong would have brought sick supplies to them, the candies would have been in the bags somewhere.

They weren’t.

Iron Man.

Iron Man had heard he was ‘sick’ and came to help, like a dutiful boyfriend, but he’d obviously seen Margaret and left.

Iron Man knew about his daughter.

Betrayal hit first, not just from Iron Man, but from the Sanctum. Why in the hell had the Sanctum led Iron Man to their living space? Had he not made it clear that no one was allowed in this space? No one was allowed past that door so that no one would hurt Margaret…

Oh.

Perhaps the Sanctum knew Iron Man wouldn’t hurt her. That was why it had let him pass. A loophole in the spells he’d conjured. Wong could walk in and out, after all.

“This time, no one in or out unless I, personally, allow it. And you’d better tell me someone’s here next time.” He grumbled to the building, which almost seemed scolded. “Vishanti.” Strange cursed and sent a text back.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

We need to talk.

The reply took a few minutes.

Iron Man:

Only when you’re ready. I’m sorry. I understand I wasn’t meant to know yet.

I wasn’t trying to intrude. Promise. The haunted house let me right in, I thought I was going into the library.

I really am sorry and I do hope she feels better soon. Make sure to take good care of her and if you need anything, let me know. I’ll grab it so you don’t have to leave her. You don’t have to tell me anything at all just…whenever you’re ready.

So the Sanctum had let the man waltz right in. He’d definitely need to change that with the Sanctum as soon as possible. Redo all the spells personally to make sure the Sanctum got the message. A scolding wasn’t enough, not in the face of his daughter’s safety.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

She’s my deal-breaker. I hadn’t intended for you to know about her, let alone meet her until I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt you’d be safe around her. Nothing personal. Don’t tell anyone. I did a lot of hard work to make sure she couldn’t be found by any of my enemies, I’d like to keep it that way and despite my oath, I am not above violence for her sake.

Iron Man:

Understood. I won’t say a word, I swear it.

She takes after her dad…even goes super pasty like you.

Stephen snorted.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Thank you for everything, by the way. I might be able to get her to keep something down out of all this.

Iron Man:

Live to serve. Sorry I didn’t know to buy children’s meds. I thought it was you who was sick.

I’ll leave you to it. Full time job to take care of a sick-y. Hope she feels better soon. Keep me posted.

Strange got to work making a soup for his sick little girl, when he got another text.

Iron Man:

It’s a coincidence by the way.

A rather large one. You and I both having a deal-breaker we weren’t ready to discuss, something we were both protecting.

Someone.

A picture came through then. A picture of an infant. A beautiful baby with brown eyes and wavy dark hair.

He’s almost eight now and the absolute light of my life.

I’d hope for the same courtesy from you. It’s a lot of hard work to keep the little ones safe from our lives, this I know personally.

I have made no oaths and I definitely understand the lengths a dad would go for their kiddo.

It clicked. Iron Man was eight years sober. He’d found out he was going to be a father and he’d changed. Fatherhood did that. Stephen himself went from what most colleagues called a narcissistic prick, to just an over-confident occasional asshole with a few soft spots. Fatherhood had softened him considerably. Seemed it hadn’t only had that effect on him.

Strange smiled a little. Both of them were fathers. Both of them dedicated to protecting their children, even from those they personally trusted.

And now Iron Man was sharing what was obviously his most protected secret. He imagined Iron Man’s secret identity was in large part to protect his child.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

Secret safe with me. I swear it.

Thank you.

Iron Man:

You’re welcome. Now make sure your baby gets healthy. Hate it when the little one gets sick. Always way worse than me getting sick.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I’ll take care of her. She doesn’t get sick too often but when she does she shoots for the moon.

Iron Man:

Go big or go home, right? I wonder where she gets that from? Haha

Again, if you need anything, let me know.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I will. Thank you.

He thought on it just for a moment before he hit the voice message button. Usually, he used talk to text. But there were some things simply better off said aloud and not left to flat black and white.

-

Tony finished oiling one of DUM-E’s gears when the message came through.

“Voice message from Dr. Sexy Wizard.” JARVIS alerted him.

“Play.” Tony responded as he worked to put the casing back on DUM-E’s arm

“I love you.” Stephen Strange’s low baritone voice filled the lab with full sincerity.

Tony dropped the casing and jolted, trying to catch it before it hit the ground. He barely managed it and his heart raced as DUM-E let out a series of alarmed and confused clicks and whistles. Tony gasped for his breath as his lungs squeezed in an almost pleasantly painful way.

“I’m okay. I’m okay, buddy.” Tony reassured the bot. A warmth heated his cheeks and chest. He’d had deep loving feelings for the man since before they’d started dating. Not that he’d admit that with a gun to his head. He had a thing for the brain-y type and it didn’t hurt at all that those brains were also attached to a very handsome man who was also a bit of a muscle-y badass.

And he was a selfless and good man. Sure he could be a bit too strict on his moral compass, but hey, everyone had to have their issues.

Tony had fallen very fast and he knew himself well enough to know he needed to slow down, especially since he had Peter to worry about as well. Anyone Tony dated and brought into his life…would also end up in Peter’s which meant he had to be careful about who he let close to him.

Tony did love him back, he had, for longer than he’d care to admit.

He’d rather say it in person, however.

A fear twisted in his gut. He’d never been good at being the best for people. Often he ended up rejected or cast aside. Tony Stark wasn’t really…liked. Iron Man was different. He could be himself as Iron Man and he was excepted then.

It probably wouldn’t go over well, him being the merchant of death and all…and Stephen literally being willing to die for centuries so that others wouldn’t have to. He’d made a lot of mistakes a lot of horrible choices. He tried to do better, but there was no knowing if Stephen could accept that.

Tony swallowed hard.

Iron Man:

As you wish.

Then he thought about it a little more and wrote one more text, taking a leap.

Let me know when you have some spare time. We really do need to talk face-to-face.

 

 

+1 The Time They Met

 

Stephen took a deep breath and straightened himself up. He didn’t know why he was so worried about his appearance. Today wasn’t really about him, but…he did want to look nice. And he knew Iron Man liked his purple shirt so…well, he dressed nice. Suited up for the occasion. They weren’t meeting anywhere grand or fancy, but…it was the principle that counted.

“Stop messing with your hair, dumbass, it’s only getting worse.” Wong sighed. “Get out the door before I kick you out.”

“Remember that Margaret-”

“You wrote a list and this is not the first time I’ve looked after her, dimwit. I’m not an idiot. I promise to have her on a sugar rush and watching R-rated movies and scar her for life, because that’s what uncles do. I’m thinking about starting with Alien, seems properly traumatizing.”

“If you dare-”

“I’m kidding. I love her and I know the rules. There will be mild sugar doping, as usual, I have to maintain my position as best uncle. Now go on your date, before I throw something at you.”

Stephen took a shaky breath, then turned to Margaret. “Okay, I’ll be back in a few hours, sweetie. Uncle Wong will look after you.”

“Okay!” Margaret said brightly as she hugged him. “Are you going to meet Prince Charming again?”

It was the only way he’d known how to explain it to her. She remembered her mom. Remembered what a more typical family looked like and he wanted her to know he was dating but…hadn’t really known how to explain it at her level. It really wasn’t something a kid her age should be involved in or really could comprehend… So…when she’d assumed he was trying to find the right princess…he’d merely corrected it to his own Prince Charming.

She hadn’t even asked for clarification and just nodded along and went with it.

Sometimes it was really easy to explain things to kids. Sometimes it was hell on earth. Like trying to explain why her mother never came back—that was hell. It still was hell when she occasionally asked.

“Yeah, honey. I’m meeting Charming today. You be good for your uncle, okay? No wild parties.”

“We’ll only do this much trouble.” Margaret leaned away and held her hands apart by half an inch.

“Allegedly.” Wong stated. “Kid, you don’t tell your dad about the extra treats, it makes it hard for me to let you splurge on ice cream.”

“Oh! Right. We’ll do this much trouble.” Margaret pressed her hands together and gave an innocent, cheeky smile.

“Mmhm.” Strange sighed. He knew, of course. He knew Wong spoiled her whenever he was gone, because of course he did. Probably to keep her happy when she was uncertain and scared while her dad was gone. She was getting more confident though, less afraid every time Stephen had to leave. “Be good. I’ll be back in a little bit, Magpie.” He ruffled her hair, then opened a portal and stepped through.

He took a deep breath and slipped his sling ring into his pocket before he walked the rest of the block to the restaurant. It was a small place tucked away, half inside an alley. But when Stephen stepped inside he was greeted with a warm and lively atmosphere. It seemed like a sort of hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the people who knew it loved it, but it wasn’t out there shouting its own name from the rooftops. It simply existed, waiting to be found.

“Hiya honey, dinner for one?” A woman asked with an upbeat tone.

“Ah, no, I was told to tell you my name is Weird.” It seemed Iron Man had wanted a lowkey meeting and obviously was avoiding making mention of their real and publicly known names. The staff seemed to seamlessly and professionally go right along with it. Must not have been their first run-in with people who wanted less attention on them.

“Oh, of course, perfect, we have a spot for you right this way.” She gave a warm smile and a nod. She led him to the back of the restaurant to a secluded booth away from windows and other customers.

On the table was a vase with purple dotted blazing stars, baby’s breath, and three red roses.

He had remembered Stephen’s favorite flowers from some one-off comment he’d made about them. He flushed a little and sat down.

“Here’s a menu for you, you’re tucked out of the way of foot traffic over here.” She told him with a polite smile. “Adam will be your server tonight, I’ll let him know you’re over here so he can get a drink for you.”

“Thank you.” Strange took a deep breath and settled in a little more as she walked away. He slowly looked at the menu, just so he’d know what drink to order when the time came. He hated not knowing and it was almost always the first question.

He wouldn’t get alcohol. He very rarely drank himself, usually only at social gatherings. The last time he’d drank it was at a ritual in Kamar Taj and he’d been one of the only people left upright to clean up the mess afterwards. But knowing that Iron Man was recovering meant he wouldn’t have that around him. No need to add to temptation or disrespect the man’s work and effort. Recovery was hard, he knew that. He knew what temptation could do and didn’t want to hurt his progress.

His phone went off.

Iron Man:

Sorry. Running behind. Dealt with an asthma attack today.

Dr. Stephen Strange:

It’s alright. Medical always takes priority. Hope Underoos is okay.

Iron Man:

Thankfully, he’s doing alright. See you soon.

Strange ordered a drink when it came time and took a gentle sniff of the flowers. Memories hit him of riding through and working on the ranch. Memories of his family while it was still functional. He loved the flowers. He disliked the bittersweet memories.

His parents had known about Margaret, he suspected his brother knew too. None of them had made an effort to meet her, even before Strange used magic to wipe all traces of her from existence. After his sister had died, their normal family had turned into a nightmare. One where Stephen had been blamed for Donna’s death. His father had outright said it. Everyone else implied it. When he’d left his family only his mother had ever reached out, only once to congratulate him when he’d graduated from Columbia.

They’d never reached out otherwise. Not when he’d married. Not when he’d become the best in his field. Not when Margaret was born. Not after the divorce. Not after the accident. No one had shown up when he and Margaret had, seemingly, fallen off the face of the planet.

He knew they were still alive. He wondered if he should reach out, if he should be the one to try to mend that broken bridge. If it would even matter. If they’d even be good for Margaret after everything they’d put him through mentally and emotionally. It had taken him years of therapy to stop blaming himself for Donna’s death, years to unwind the self-blame and their scapegoating. He wasn’t sure he wanted his daughter around people who could do that…he also knew people could change.

He had, after all.

Maybe he should reach out.

Stephen shook himself. No point in thinking about that now. Better to live in the present, where he’d finally get to meet his boyfriend…which was weird in any other context, but made sense in its own messy way.

“Sorry I’m late.” A voice called out. A vaguely…familiar voice.

Stephen rose and turned and… Tony Stark was walking up to him. Tony Stark. But how was that possible? He’d seen the two of them in the same room together. Multiple times. How in the hell?

“Hey, Oz.” Tony gave a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. He too had dressed well for the occasion. No one else had called him “Oz” before, only ever Iron Man.

Stephen stood still for a moment before his mind kicked into gear. This was his partner after all. Even if who he was was a bit…shocking. “Hello, Tin Man.” He gave the man a hug and kissed his temple.

Tony’s body was stiff for a moment, before he let out a huge sigh and his body relaxed, holding him back. Those arms were definitely familiar. The way they held him, firm and safe and gentle, all too familiar. The height differential also familiar. This…was him. When they parted, Tony rocked up onto his toes to press a kiss to Stephen’s cheek and the feel and slight scratch of stubble was just so familiar.

They both settled into their seats.

“Seems I shocked you. I know. I’m rather shocking, but penny for your thoughts?” Tony asked, looking a bit anxious.

“I’m just…yeah, a little surprised.” Stephen whispered. “First question. How did I see both of you in the lab at the same time? Did I hit my head really hard then?”

“Oh, no. I was in the suit. I developed a life-model-decoy to take my place when needed. Think robot that passes as human. If we’re in the same room together I’m almost always in the suit and JARVIS is running the decoy. He’s had years to watch how I move and act. He’s very good at imitating me and if I need to answer a specific question, I can while in the suit and no one would know I’m feeding J lines.”

“Huh. Okay. Makes sense.”

“You’ve told me so much about yourself, been so open and honest… I’m sure…there will be lots of questions for me now. And I’m…I’m okay to answer them. Some of them are not going to have light or happy answers, but…”

“I understand not light or happy.” Strange gave a laugh.

Tony gave a slow nodded. “Yeah, suppose you do.”

Stephen did find he had questions. So he asked. True to his word, Tony answered, voice sometimes a little nervous. Stephen reached across the table and held out his hand. When Tony took it in his own, calloused hand, he seemed to settle down a little. As if he’d expected Stephen to bolt upon seeing who he really was.

Stephen only asked a few questions before he changed the subject. Tony was Iron Man. Iron Man was Tony, there was still a lot to figure out, but they’d work with it. He was still the same person though. “Is he okay?”

“Hm?”

“With the asthma.” Stephen didn’t get any more specific. Not in a public venue. Though they were seated away from everyone else, he wouldn’t risk anything.

“Oh, yeah. Always scary as hell, but it’s okay. Hoping it’ll get a little better with age, but who knows?”

“With the right medication it can be more manageable, less prone to attacks.”

“Yeah, we switched recently. It seems a little better, except for the rescue, think we’ll switch back to the previous, it worked better…faster, I’d say.”

Stephen nodded. “Seems you have a good doctor if they’re open to switching things up to find what works.”

“Has the plague left your house?” Tony asked after a moment. Also toeing around the real subject.

“Thankfully, yes. And I didn’t manage to catch it, thank goodness I have a doctor’s immune system still, because that would be miserable. Back to bright and chipper. Thinks I’m out finding my Prince Charming.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She may have a point.”

“Yeah?” Tony asked, hope and worry in his tone at the same time.

Stephen squeezed his hand, enough that his own hurt. “Are you afraid of what I think?”

“Of course I am.” Tony snorted and Stephen could almost see it as the man built a wall around himself. “I’ve…adored you basically since we met. And I’m… I’m everyone’s last choice unless they need someone to blame.”

And it clicked, because that was true.

Tony Stark inherited his company, yet he was blamed for what it was.

Stane was in control of that company. Tony Stark was blamed for its dirty dealings.

Everyone hated the weapons manufacturing. Tony Stark was blamed for crashing the market when he put an end to it.

The Avengers all had homes and tech and support because of Tony’s generosity. They never really thanked him for it, but he often took the brunt of the blame when Avenger business went wrong.

The Avengers made messes in battle. Tony Stark got blamed if his clean up crews didn’t get the work done fast enough.

The man constantly had the weight of the world thrown at him and he carried it, only to later get blamed and vilified for simply just doing his best.

Iron Man…didn’t have that problem. He simply was and people accepted it. It was no wonder the man felt more comfortable behind his suit…than out of it. That he felt more accepted and safe in his mask…than out.

“You seem like the same guy to me, Tony. Wasn’t expecting that pretty of a face behind the mask, but I’ll take it as a bonus.”

Tony flushed bright red and turned his face away.

“I fell in love with the man behind the mask, Tony, you taking it off should, in theory, just gives me more layers to learn and to love, right?”

Tony’s eyes widened and got a little glossy. He squeezed Stephen’s hand then lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I love you.”

Stephen’s heart warmed. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, it’s…much better in person.”

Stephen couldn’t help but agree.

“Glad to finally meet you, Tin Man.”

Tony beamed at him. “You too, Oz.”

Notes:

Much Love.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Irondad and Dr. Dad