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It was rare when you got to see him. There would be times when he would show up at the Tower, but he would usually be busy with Tony, or the others. The first time you saw him, he had barely spared you a glance. But you noticed him, his handsome face, his hair peppered dark, his neatly trimmed beard. Barely a spare glance, but enough for one to connect your gaze. His eyes, a cold blue-gray. Not cold in the way he looked at you, no. It seemed like you were of little interest to him.
It was every day a person looked at your eyes, your eyes that looked like that of a cat – held in slits despite the brightness of the day or room you stood in, unless you focused on them enough to dilate. Sometimes, you would, when you looked in the mirror and they almost appeared human. Normal.
This man, who you learned the name of later, Stephen Strange. He looked at you, at your eyes, your appearance as if you were just another person and that intrigued you.
And when you kept staring, a habit that you knew now that people didn’t tend to like, he ignored you from what you could tell. But part of him seemed to be interested in you too. Or at least, something that he wore.
The long red cloak around his shoulders lifted from one side and tilted towards you, just to tilt in the other direction as if it were a curious dog. You blinked. The corner of the cloak waved at you then and you blinked again – wondering for a moment if your serum suddenly brought along with it a form of crazy brain.
But no, you learned more of the man, the magic and easy to say – your curious intrigue grew.
Eventually you grew bold enough to speak to him. “Magic, huh?” was the first words from your mouth.
Dr. Strange looked at you, up and down, and you felt yourself straighten up without meaning to. Your lips wanted to drop into a tight line, feeling as if he were looking at your ears, your eyes, your claws. The things that made you not normal. “Can you make a rabbit appear?”
You told a joke instead. His eyes narrowed, and you grinned cheekily, “Is that a, no?”
He didn’t respond to you, only scoffing and turning away with a flip of his cloak. The cloak, this time from the bottom, seemed to wave at you again. This time, you waved back.
The second time you met him, you already wore a crooked grin. “Hi Dr. Magic,” You had greeted cheerfully.
He took a slow breath from his nostrils, eyes closing for a moment. “Hello.” He muttered this time. You were surprised to get a word from him, so you were stunned stupid for a moment.
“It’s Doctor Strange, for your information.” He choppily responded.
“Yeah maybe, but your magic cured me, doc.” Your mouth spit out before your brain had a moment to think it over.
“And just what did I cure?” He sounded as if he was on the edge of amused. But maybe you were just hopeful.
Dummy up. Thought your brain.
“My lonesome heart.” Said your mouth.
Stephen looked at you with a perked brow and went to turn around again, this time not scoffing, but his lips were tight, showing no amusement that you thought you might have heard before.
His cloak wavered at you as the man’s back walked away from you, as if the magical piece of fabric was chuckling.
At least it liked you, it seemed.
The third time you met him, you were having a rough day. The next would be your scheduled dose of serum. And so, your bones felt as if they were trying to find their way out of your skin, skittering painfully with your chilled veins, your blood which was more yours and less animal pumped what felt like toxic ichor through your system, and your breath was heavy if not labored.
Not every time was this bad, of course. But it was unpredictable. It was rare that you found yourself looking forward to the serum that would change your DNA, turn you more monstrous, but with it save your body from slowly eating itself away. Each breath hurt your lungs, and your mind screeched at you to let this be it, stop the treatments, let yourself go and you’d never have to feel this way again.
You hadn’t even noticed him when he entered the room. It was one of the library sections. It smelled of old books, faded leathers, cedar. It comforted you. You had been curled up on one of the older, but still exceptionally expensive leather armchairs, your head rested against your arm while you stared at the spines of books that you may or may never read, but they felt as if they were your friends – there for you with your pain, understanding, comforting, consoling.
“Nothing funny to say this time?” Stephen’s voice distracted you enough to blink bleary eyes up at his tall, lithe form. You offered him a smile, it quivered against your teeth, normally long canines were still pointed, but shorter, almost appearing normal.
“Not this time. Come back tomorrow, I should be feeling chipper. Maybe I’ll even get a smile out of you.”
Stephen looked you over, humming a thoughtful sound and took a seat in the armchair next to yours. “What’s your name?” He asked you. You told him.
“Are you sick?” He asked you.
You laughed a joyless sound, and it rattled a cough from your lungs. “You could say that.”
His brow furrowed, and you thought it looked handsome on his face, the thoughtfulness you saw there. “Tomorrow you will be better?”
“If the serum works as usual, sure.” You shrugged a shoulder, sitting up and resting a heavy head back, eyes rolling downwards to still be able to keep connected with his own. “Tony didn’t mention?”
Stephen shook his head after hesitating. You puffed a sigh, shaking your head. “Figures. Normally loves having his business to talk about other people’s business.” And so, you told him your story. Your unfortunate birth, the sickness that riddled your veins, your upbringing, up to where Nick Fury found you – half feral and lost to your mission of hurting, of killing those who were marked by those who found you before he did. Up to where Tony started to make changes to your serum, for the better certainly, it helped you remain more human but when it started to leave your system – it sucked, simply put.
“Why do you not take your serum now, if it leaves you in so much pain?” Stephen had asked.
“Too much of the serum and I lose my humanity. Not enough, and I die.” The words left your lips dripping with odium. “Don’t suppose you have any magic mumbo jumbo that would fix me up?”
Stephen’s lips twitched before turning downwards. “I could help with your pain, but I could not cure you. Magic can cure disease, but it cannot create systems to prevent it. Should your sickness return, and you not have the magic to cure it – I fear it would kill you, quite possibly, on the spot.”
You took in a breath, forced a smile, though it was one of jocundity. “Natural order and all that jazz, huh doc?”
Stephen’s lips turned up into the slightest smile, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Small victories. “And all that jazz.” He agreed.
“Well alright. Here’s to hoping my body wont randomly decide to reject my serum.” You lifted your hand, jutting your pinky out as if you were holding a goblet and tilted it back mimicking taking a drink.
He didn’t partake in your imaginary drink, but you watched when his hands moved in precise movements, a spark of what almost looked like an orange flame appeared and honestly, you still weren’t sure exactly what he did when you felt the pain ease up on your bones, in your lungs. You took a shuddering breath and felt yourself relax. It was still there, but it felt as if a strong drug had just kicked in and loosened up your body, a sort of fuzziness touched your mind, like you might fall asleep, yet you were fully awake and aware.
You looked at Stephen and smiled, this time giving him a genuine smile of appreciation. “Just until tomorrow.” He reminded you, and you nodded once. You felt a warmth spread from your heart when a small smile graced his face.
He looked handsome before, but with that smile there, it was as if you were staring at a piece of art. But art is locked in time, never changing, and while Stephen stayed in the room with you for about half an hour longer, he was gone with a polite goodbye and a dip of his head.
The Fourth time you met him you had hoped it wouldn’t be a matter of you curled up in a ball of pain, wishing and wondering what cruel being placed you on Earth with such a curse.
No, this time, it was a bit of a dire situation. And by bit, it was your life being drained away. “Hold the wound!” Nat’s voice was in your ears, but you were already floating. You had made a mistake? Maybe were in the wrong spot at the wrong time? Either way, your hand weakly clutched at your side. At first, the blood rushed thick and strong, flowing through your fingers clasped against ripped flesh. You felt the blood move over your fingers, dripping down them to pool on the floor. The blood was warm as your skin, neither cooler, nor warmer. Rapidly though it throbbed out of your paling skin, strong pulse became weaker.
Nat was shouting into her communications, guns firing around you, shouts and voices mingled together.
You felt tired, but at peace. Finally. Your mind thought. “No.” Your mouth mumbled. Rest now. “No.” Who really wants to live forever? Half human, half monster.
Your eyes struggled to stay open, and the sudden flash of orange light filled what little vision remained. Your pupils were blown wide when they met the gray blue gaze of the man that had been in your dreams for the past year or so of meeting him. Concern flooded his gaze and at a moment he was at your side. The portal remained open behind him. “Natural order, Doc.” You reminded him weakly and hissed in pain when he lifted you into his arms, his ruined hands holding you nearly much too tight.
“Tomorrow.” He said, his voice spiked with panic. His face pinched when he took you through the portal.
You woke up in a med bay bed, minutes, hours, days later. You didn’t know. But when your eyes opened, you found him there. And for a moment, you wondered if this was another dream.
“Did you fix me up, Doc?” Your voice struggled to speak; throat dry. He breathed in sharply and exhaled. You felt something on your hand, and when you looked down, you realized that his hand clasped yours. Instead of looking at the scars, minding them none, you looked back up and saw a relieved smile on the mans face.
“I might have had something to do with it.” He spoke, and there was a slight shudder in his voice. Your heart squeezed, and you smiled.
“Still one more thing you can fix, you know.” Your smile turned cheeky, and he stared at you with a slight crease in his brow. “My lonesome heart is still tickin’.”
He chuckled. You beamed.
The fifth time you met him might be your favorite. He had brought you to the Sanctum Santorum. It blew your mind when he offered it to you, and you accepted without much thought. The grand building took your breath away, and you forced yourself to stay at his side rather than to scamper off and look at all the new things.
The Cloak of Levitation, or just the cloak, since that was a mouthful seemed to be happy for your presence and whenever you did seem to begin to stray, it would coax you back over.
And after the grand tour, you had ended up in a secluded spot that radiated warmth, despite the building on the outside looking old and cold. You wondered if there was magic within the building itself. To be honest, you still didn’t know much about the magic Stephen could wield. And you doubted you would ever understand it much.
“Thank you,” You murmured when he sat you both down on a wooden bench with a comfy pillow backing. “It’s nice to get out of the tower. I usually only go out on missions and what not. Most people tend to stare a little bit too much, yknow?”
Stephen hummed thoughtfully, and then a small little smirk curved his mouth. You found your eyes drawn to it. “And my staring?”
You blushed softly, shifting in surprise and flattery. “Well – I guess I can get over that.” You mentioned with a soft smile, not like your coy, or teasing ones that the Doctor had grown used to seeing – but the smile was still yours, and it made him feel things that he, for the longest time, wanted to ignore.
“Thank you for coming,” He dipped his head. “It was… nice to have your company.”
With his head dipped, and his proximity next to you, you sighed softly, wistfully wishing you could close the space and feel his lips against your own.
As if hearing your wish, you felt a sudden push against your back. In the moment, you had no idea it was actually the cloak that had slipped up to force you to close the distance and press your lips over the taller man.
But in that moment, you also had little care, when the man kissed you back. Hesitant and soft, his slightly chapped lips moved against yours. Your shaking hands lifted to bring around him, tugging yourself closer. His chest pressed against your own, you could feel that he too was shaking, out of nerves, excitement, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care either.
One hand dropped to your hip, and the other tucked behind your neck, tilting you within the kiss slightly, deepening it with a gentle sound of approval. The rumble of it fell against your lips, and your mouth opened for his tongue. He tasted of tea and a dash of honey, and you found yourself wanting more when your tongue touched against his, a soft mewling sound to match his rumble had his hand on the back of your neck press firmer.
The fifth time you met him was your first kiss. But one of many, and many more meetings. But that one, might have been your favorite. Stephen Strange made you feel normal. He made you feel right. But most of all, he made you happy.
So maybe, no one really wanted to live forever. But if you got to be with him, forever could be as long as it wanted.