amaranth

You had about an hour before you needed to start getting ready for your date. Sweet guy, handsome, meet cute where you bumped into each other’s shopping carts at the grocery store. He got your number and called you a few hours later. He was direct, respectful… normal. He was taking you to some steakhouse uptown which was horribly cliché, but you couldn’t deny a good baked potato. Nor could you deny the soft but insistent thump of your heart when you realized this was an active step in moving on.

But you were supposed to move on.

Your nerves got the better of you thirty minutes later and you found yourself in your bedroom shimmying into your dress and slipping on your heels an hour early. You painted on a light face, all bronzy and nude, a soft blush, some shimmering lip gloss. Your hair was big and blown out because you always thought it looked pretty like that. You were in the middle of putting on your earrings when you heard a knock on your door. You tensed your brows at yourself in the mirror and reached to check your phone. You still had thirty minutes before he was supposed to meet him, but the train was sure to be slam packed at this time. You needed to get a move on and that did not include any unscheduled house calls.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket and walked to the door, your halls echoing the rhythmic click, clack, click, clack of the stilettos against the hardwood. Your feet were sure to hurt in the next half hour, but damn if you didn’t look good. Tights and stilettos were a deadly combination for any man. One man, in particular, you’d been with for a while went crazy over the combination. The only time you’d ever known him to look weak.

You smiled softly at the faded memory. But it was time to see if it would also be a knockout for the new guy. You readjusted the hem of the black mini dress you wore, wondering if you should go ahead and throw on your long woolen coat for proprieties sake, but before you could make up your mind there was another softer knock. You steeled your nerves and twisted the door knob, opening the door slowly while picking a fuzz from your top. When you lifted your head to address the offender, your heart gave a wild lurch in your chest, your stomach twisting into knots.

“Stephen?” You ask, totally bewildered

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard and returns, “Y/N. Hi…” He says softly, barely a breath above a whisper

You don’t notice you’re staring though you certainly are. He wasn’t in that damned uniform at the very least. Just a pair of jeans and a navy tee, topped with a blue and red checkered flannel. His hair was tamed on the sides, his gray streaks more prominent than the last time you’d seen him. But you’d always liked them and it seemed a real shame that you shouldn’t— couldn’t— reach out and run your fingers through his hair like you used to. His eyes were the same sharp blue you remembered. They were the same blue you still saw in your dreams from time to time, always a quick vision, nothing more than a blur… but you knew they were his. He looked… broader. Sturdier. You didn’t know how else to explain it as you couldn’t see a bit of skin aside from that at his neck, but you had a strong suspicion it had to do with muscle mass.

“Hi.” You finally returned after what Stephen thought must have been an eternity

But you hadn’t yelled at him yet, which was an encouraging start. What was not encouraging was you looking so goddamn good. Your hair was this blown-out, sex-tousled sort of mess that made him want to run his hands through it. Your face was fresh and clean looking, makeup minimal as it almost always had been, and just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you. Maybe more so for the lack of tears streaming down your face and the silent confusion contorting your features rather than brazen anger. The dress you were wearing was hugging every curve he remembered like the name of any song’s release date from the early sixties to late nineties. That is to say, he remembered very well. And your legs… your legs were wrapped in sheer black tights, black heels on your feet making your legs look like they went on forever. A brief smile crossed his lips as he remembered you wearing something similar on… one of… your… dates.

“I um… I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?” He asks, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, “I didn’t— well, I figured I’d interrupt something, but not…” He trails off, looking to the ground

You clear your throat and try to stand up straighter, agreeing, “A date.”

“A date.” He repeats, more to fill the silence than actually add anything to the conversation, “Well, I… I guess I’ll be quick—“

“I’m actually running late.” You cut him off

‘Be strong.’ You tell yourself

“I should have left an hour ago. I started getting ready nearly thirty minutes early and I’m still somehow running behind.“ You step out of the door and quickly lock both locks with a shaking hand, making it increasingly difficult for a quick escape, “I’m sure the subway will be a nightmare—“

“Wait, Y/N.” Stephen says, reaching out to pause your work with the locks, causing your hand to shake harder, “I won’t take long at all. If you have somewhere to be, I understand completely. But if… if you could take some time this week to see me, I’d really appreciate it. I’d like to talk to you.”

You shove your keys in your purse, your voice coming out shaky as you ask, “About what, Stephen?”

“About us.” He says after a silence so loud you feel it shatters reality, “About the way things ended. And you know what? If you don’t show, I’ll understand that too, but just… at least consider.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small card with a phone number and address, “If you want to see me, give me a five-minute heads up and I’ll meet you at that address. Seriously, whenever. I’ll make it work for you.”

Your heart gives a flutter that you immediately squash. He’ll make it work. Something he could never be bothered to do before. That was the whole problem! Well… maybe you’d played your own part in the madness. You weren’t sure what exactly, you just knew it wasn’t good.

You swallow hard and force out, “I’ll see if I have any free time…” You did, “I’ll text you if I can make it.”

Stephen’s eyes sort of light up in a way you hadn’t seen in ages, sending your heart fluttering again. You stomp it out with feelings of disinterest and remorse. The man before you deserved no fluttering hearts, no butterflies in your stomach, and no haywire signals in your brain. No. Absolutely not.

“That’s great, thank you. No hard feelings if you can’t make it or… or decide you’d rather not. I completely understand.” And the earnest tone he used made you believe him, “I hope you have a good night. Be safe, yeah?” You nod at him silently, tapping the little card he handed you against your palm, watching as he starts to walk away. He makes it halfway down the hall before turning and calling, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You answer meekly

He gives you a once over that makes your knees weak before giving a grin and saying, “You look gorgeous. You’ll knock him dead.” 

He turns on his heel and saunters off down the hall, not waiting for a response. He didn’t have to because you were sure even after all this time the asshole knew what he did to you when he said shit like that. And oh how it did things. Because the second he turned the corner you burst into a full-blown grin of your own, giving a little squeal and clutching what was essentially a calling card to your chest.

You sobered quickly when you rethought the scenario, rethought the entire situation, and the two years of the on-and-off thing the two of you had that could hardly be called a relationship. But he’d sounded so genuinely remorseful and… and he’d shown up right before you were about to go on your first date since. That couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it? The universe wasn’t that ironic.

Damn it if it was.

You wrung your hands nervously in front of the door. The giant door on the giant stone building with weird ass windows and property that must’ve cost a fortune. You didn’t see a doorbell, so you settled for reaching up and banging the door knocker against the door twice. You ran your hands over your jeans and pulled at the hem of your graphic tee, wondering if you should have put a bit more effort into your outfit. You just hadn’t wanted to look too eager to impress. You didn’t wait ten seconds before the door flew open, revealing a very surprised-looking Stephen Strange.

“You came.” He said as if the information was shocking

Your therapist would kill you if she knew you had.

When she heard you did.

You give a little shrug, “Tend to keep my word on that front, Stephen.”

You saw him physically wince at the light slap, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t even attempt to fight the accusation— he knew it was true just as well as you did. He gestured you into the building, offering to take your cardigan and purse, handing them on the coat rack by the door while you marveled at the foyer around you. It was massive and shining and smelled of peppermint and lemons. And somehow, it was strangely welcoming.

“This isn’t exactly your style…” You murmur, walking forward and glancing up a huge staircase, “Wasn’t your style.”

He gives a little shrug, “Things change.”

“Hm.” You hum out, running a hand along the railing

“I um… I just put on the kettle if you want some tea. You still drink tea, don’t you? Still that vanilla-tasting one?” You nod silently and start following him down a long hallway, peeking nosily into rooms as you go though never touching so much as the incredible trim on the walls, “Two spoonfuls of sugar, no creamer, yeah?”

“That’s right.” You agree, walking into a very cozy kitchen

Stephen pulls out a bar seat for you and pushes a plate of cookies toward you, “Homemade.”

You snort, “Whose home? Trader Joes’?”

He gives you one of those dazzling smiles that makes you weak and a light chuckle rumbles through the room, “No, Darling. My home.”

Darling.

The little pet name brings all sorts of warm feelings trickling back, wrapping you in a Stephen Strange-scented blanket, making you feel fuzzy inside. And Stephen couldn’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips as they curved into a smile. He’d intentionally placed himself on the opposite side of the counter, giving himself a physical barrier. He was just doing his damndest not to strut over there, wrap you in his arms, and kiss you. So sweet and cozy looking. A bit uncomfortable judging by the tension in your shoulders and the way you’d wrapped your cardigan tight around your body like a protective shield. He wanted to tell you he would protect you, you could trust him. He needed to make you see he understood the hell he’d put you through, that he was sorry, and he wanted to fix things… fix the way it ended.

“And that’s what this is? Home. You live in this place?”

“We call it the Sanctum Sanctorum.” Stephen shrugs, leaning against the counter by the stove top, “Part of the gig.”

“The wizard gig.” You murmur, picking up a cookie and giving it a sniff

Stephen cracks a small smile and to avoid any more argument than necessary agrees, “Yeah. The wizard gig.”

“Hm.” You hum, taking a bite of the cookie and admitting, “Very good. Orange?”

“Sugar cookie with some orange zest… just something for a little kick.”

“Your idea of a little kick used to be a straight shot of tequila, no chaser.”

“Yeah, well…” He flushes, “I don’t drink anymore, so... no fear of that.”

You raise your brows, impressed by the information and say, “That’s good, Stephen. Good for you.”

He hides his discomfort for the praise by turning to tend to the kettle as it starts hissing, “Thanks.” He murmurs quietly, “Means a lot coming from you.”

“Does it?” You ask, tone sharper than you meant it

“It does.” He sighs, “It really does.”

The next ten minutes are spent in silence as you watch Stephen making tea and he watches you watching him. It’s tense, the air is thick— though with what neither of you could say— but it isn’t entirely pleasant. He knew he only had so long before you laid in. He’d been expecting it the moment he opened the door, but you seemed to have mellowed your temper the same as he had in the past couple of years. Still, he knew it could only last so long. He could see the cogs in your head turning—

“You left.” You finally break the silence, “We fought that day, I stormed out, I know I did, I know that’s on me— but you left, Stephen. Without a word. Not one. Nothing to let me know where you were going or if you were alive. Until nearly half a year later when I got an email that simply said, ‘I’m safe.’” You huff and run your hands over your face, “You were safe. Great. Were you actually? Were you healthy, happy, with another…” You let out a deep sigh and run your hands along the edge of the table, “I deserved better than that.”

“You did. And I started to write you again so many times—“

“I deserved better than to learn you were back seeing your face plastered over every goddamn news broadcast and tabloid in the city. Do you think— did you ever stop to think— that it might be a bit jarring for me?”

“Honestly, no. I was a bit preoccupied trying to keep the earth from being absorbed into an alien cult.” He murmurs, looking up to find you completely displeased with that explanation, “Look, I meant to email, call, something—“

“It’s been two years, Stephen. I didn’t even need to be your... whatever the hell we were. I just needed to know you were okay. As your friend, I needed to see you were alright.” You shake your head, “You never even gave me that.” You watch as he hangs his head, places his mug on the countertop and runs his hands over the marble

The scars you hadn’t seen in so long now faded, but a reminder to both of you what the last half year of your relationship looked like and pushes you to grieve aloud, “Do you know what I thought when I got a call you’d been hospitalized that night? I was terrified you were going to die. And then you took off without a word and I was terrified you were dead all over again. I said my fair share of shit that night— that night in your apartment— I said my fair share too. I did. I know I was nasty and awful to you, but I just… Christ, you’ve always provoked me like no one else can.” 

You give a defeated laugh, “And somehow I feel that’s my fault too. I let you so far in… no one knew me like you did, Stephen, and that meant you knew every button to press when you decided you were done having me around.” You give a little shrug and try to force back tears by looking to the ceiling and murmuring, “I still haven’t met another soul that understood me the way you did, not even after two years. No one knows me like you know me.”

“I was afraid I was going to hurt you. I didn’t want you to stay and watch me run myself into the ground.” He shakes his head, “I wasn’t stopping. I wasn’t going to stop until I fixed my hands.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you ask, “Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?”

He gives an angry huff and pushes off the counter, “Your problem was that you never saw it from my point of view. You didn’t want the man with the broken hands, you just wanted him to be okay—“

“That isn’t true!”

“But I wasn’t okay!” He presses on despite your protest, “And being with you in the six months after it happened just kept reminding me it was never going to be that way again. I was never going to be who you wanted me to be, I was only going to be who I was. And you were who you were, and that wasn’t good enough… neither of us was good enough for each other.” He heaves a sigh, “We were never going to work out then, Y/N. It just wasn’t going to happen.”

Tears inescapably prick at your eyes and start rolling down your cheeks before you know it, “Why the hell did you ask me to come here, Stephen? So we could sit here and list our grievances? So you could tell me what I already knew?” You slide off of your chair and make a break for the kitchen door, “We weren’t going to work out.” You scoff, “Yeah, that was obvious. I remember very clearly what you said. ‘Not friends, barely lovers.’ If this was all you wanted to talk about then—“

And then all your anger melted away as your hand was ripped from the doorknob, your body spun around, and Stephen’s lips were on yours. You only struggled for a moment, only your mind making the brief plea, ‘don’t’ but every other part of you scram, ‘yes’ at an obscene volume. So you rooted your hands in his hair as he pressed you up against the door you’d sought to make your escape through not five seconds earlier. His long lean body molded into your own, every crevice had a concave to match, fitting you perfectly against one another. He licked at your lips and you opened willingly, letting him explore where no one else had in a long, long time. Where he had been the last to explore. 

He gave a satisfied groan and pressed himself against you harder, his body pleading to get closer, his heart hammering in his chest, feelings stirring that hadn’t in a very, very long time now. You tasted like that vanilla tea and a hint of orange… just a little kick. Your hands fell from his hair and wrapped around his shoulders. He felt you bounce on your toes, trying to get closer to him, your nose nudging his own as you did. You kissed him like you hadn’t kissed anyone in years, like he was the last man you’d ever kiss, and he was intoxicated by the experience. 

How had he ever let you walk away?

He pulled away, both of you gasping for air, bodies still desperately leaning into one another. He gently took your face in his hands and tilted your head upward to meet his gaze, tears streaming down your cheeks breaking his heart. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d wanted to fix things, not make them worse.

“I can’t let you walk away from me again, Y/N. I can’t do it.” He says hoarsely

“I can’t…” Your voice breaks and you try to turn your head from him, but he forces you to keep your eyes on him, “Stephen, I can’t do this again. I can’t go through this again. I can’t be the only one trying, I can’t be the only one making plans, dying to see you, being let down every time you’re not there…” You shake your head, “I can’t do that to myself. I can’t let you do that to me again.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He says, “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to make the same mistakes—“

“Stephen, you’re a fucking superhero now. You’re off fighting God knows what, God knows where every day. I lost my mind when you disappeared to Asia without a word, how am I supposed to—“

“Because I’d tell you. I’d tell you every time I have to go. I’ll tell you as much about it as I can, tell you when I should be back— a larger estimate than normal so you don’t freak out if I’m an hour late...” You give a choked little giggle through your tears and Stephen smiles through what he notices are his own, “You make plans and I swear I’ll be there when I can and let you know as soon as possible when I can’t. I’ll make the plans and be there to pick you up early and do everything I didn’t before and more. I’m not that guy anymore, I’m not. It could be different this time, Darling. I’ll make it different this time, but you gotta’ give me the chance.”

You chew on your bottom lip, closing your eyes to think it through. Staring up at him with so many lovely promises being thrown your way made you feel faint. But you had a feeling he was telling the truth. You’d heard Stephen lie many, many times, and this was not a lying Stephen Strange. This was an intent, determined, desperate man. He wasn’t the man you knew, that man would have never begged like this, would have never pleaded his case so thoroughly and accepted responsibility for the things he did.

“You gotta’ give me a chance and give me some grace.” He murmurs, “I’m better off than I was, but the job is rough. It’s not going to be perfect every time. I’m needed in places I won’t be able to run back to you at a moment’s notice, but I promise I’d be there as soon as I could. I want to be clear on that.” He swallows hard and repeats, “I can’t be who you want me to be, I just need you to want me for who I am. That’s part of what will make things different between us.”

“Three months…” You whisper, “Three months to prove it to me, that it can be. Three months for me to do the same for you.”

Because you couldn’t spend every day wondering if walking away was the biggest mistake you’d ever make. Not again.

Stephen releases a shaky breath and rests his forehead against your own, nodding and forcing your head to move with it, “Thank you.”

Stephen was beaming ear to ear as you stepped out your front door, “Hello, Darling.” He greets, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, “This outfit is familiar.” He teases

You give a little smile and bump your hip against his, “Yeah, well… last guy didn’t appreciate it enough. Never said I looked gorgeous, only pretty.”

“An idiot.” Stephen mutters through his grin, “But you do look gorgeous. Even if you’re reusing outfits from shitty dates past.”

“It wasn’t a shitty date, it just wasn’t…” You shrug and admit, “My thoughts ended up a little preoccupied. In all honesty, I was probably the shitty date.”

“Good.” He says without a hint of remorse for his showing up on your doorstep two months ago out of the blue, “Excellent timing on my part.”

“Is that what you think?” You ask as you loop your arm through his

“It is.” He agrees

“Well, I should probably mention that you look incredibly handsome tonight, Doctor.”

A faint blush covers his cheeks as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

“And thank you for letting me know you were going to be late. Was everything okay?”

“Turned out fine. Just some trouble with some students in the library. Books got swapped around, books that didn’t belong in the Kamar-Taj library suddenly appeared… I had to play the bad guy. Which always makes for a lovely class the following day.” He sighs, “I’m sorry I had to push it back, so much has come up this week.” There’s a nervous lilt to his voice that you don’t miss, “First with the not being able to make it to Monday’s date, then having to skip out on coffee, now this…”

You squeeze his arm gently, “I understand. I’ll never be mad unless you don’t communicate or I find out there was no real emergency.” 

He nods, “You’ve been very understanding, I appreciate that… a lot.”

“I’m trying.” You reassure, “And I know you are too.”

He opens to door for you as you both step out into the brisk night air. He immediately feels you give a shiver and takes the jacket from your arms, helping you slide into it snugly, buttoning a few of the buttons himself. You smile up at him for the sweet gesture.

“I like this coat…” He mutters, “buttons are nice and big, makes my life easier.”

It gives you the first opportunity you’ve felt is natural enough to ask, “How are your hands, Stephen?”

He shrugs and loops your arm through his once more, “Learned to write… okay. Still not great, but mostly legible. I like cooking a lot nowadays. Good practice for fine motor skills—“

“Well then let’s do that tonight.” You suggest, pausing your walk, “I know we had a reservation somewhere, but I’m sure we got bumped or kicked. So let’s go to the grocery store and you can cook me your favorite meal.”

Stephen eyes you up and down, “You’re going to the grocery store like that?”

“Why not?” You pout, “I thought I looked good.”

“You do, Baby, I’m afraid you look too good and someone else might try to take you home to eat.” He pouts back

You throw your head back and laugh, and Stephen wraps his arms around your waist, smiling down at you. You’d never known him to smile this often before, but you were so grateful he did now. He was beautiful when he smiled like that. His eyes lit up so perfectly, his dimples winking at you, smile lines not quite hidden by his facial hair showing through. Gorgeous, gorgeous boy.

Stephen ducked down and buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss against your skin, still chuckling to himself as he asks, “Yeah, did you like that one?”

“It was so cheesy.”

“Felt a little douchey, have to admit.”

“Oh, so it was perfect for you then?” You tease, brushing your nose against his own

“If I’m so douchey, why do I get the feeling you want me to kiss you right now?”

“Maybe because even though it was douchey, it was still funny and sweet.”

Stephen pressed his lips to yours and felt the way you melted in his arms. He held you tighter and drew back just to press his lips to yours three more times. You giggled and stared up at him with what he felt was adoration. God, he hoped it was.

“Can I suggest something entirely different?” He asks shyly

“Hm?”

“Can we… can we go back upstairs and put on some comfy clothes? Can I just lay with you on the couch and hold you in my arms? I won’t ask you for anything else, I just…” He trails off before whispering softly, “I haven’t been held in a long time. I’d like to be held by you.”

You nod, “Yeah, Steph. We can do that.”

So the two of you walked back upstairs, hand in hand. Stephen snapped himself into some sweats and a tee while you threw on a giant hoodie and some sleep shorts. He was surprised when you offered your bedroom, your bed, to cuddle up in. But you knew you were likely to fall asleep, and you didn’t want either of you to wake up on the couch with a crick in your neck. Stephen looked around your room hesitantly… it’d changed. It was all rearranged and had different colors and patterns. It was unfamiliar. And he was nervous about crawling in your bed. He didn’t want to get too comfortable. He didn’t want to fall in love again before you told him whether or not you would still be together in another month.

He scooted into the bed slowly and turned to find your arms outstretched to him. He took a deep breath and rolled over into your arms. You wrapped him in a gentle embrace and immediately ran your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp gently, pressing little kisses to his temple. Little by little his body relaxed, but his mind was still reeling. He couldn’t turn it off.

“Tell me what it is.” You whisper, “Why are you upset?”

Stephen buries his head in the crook of his neck and denies, “I’m not upset.”

“Then what’s wrong, Dear?”

Stephen’s heart thumped wildly against his ribcage when you called him that. Such a simple pet name. Such a silly little term of endearment, but coming from you it meant everything and more.

“I’m scared,” He admits after a beat, “I’m scared I’m going to fuck up or you’re going to leave.” He shakes his head and curls his fingers into your waist, “I don’t want this to be over. I have a whole other month with you and I’m still terrified it’ll be gone in a flash. And at the same time, I’m scared that we will make it past three months and then realize it’s not right again. I don’t want to hurt you again and I don’t want to be hurt. That’s why it took me so long, Y/N.”

You heave a deep sigh and admit, “I get scared about it too. I do. Because I don’t want to hurt you or be hurt by you again either. But can I tell you something I’ve been trying to keep to myself because I was afraid I’d scare you?”

Stephen picks his head up and asks, “What?”

You give a little shrug, “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time, Stephen. Every time I get to see you, it makes my day. I’m just… I’m so happy you showed up. I’m happy you invited me over, I’m happy we both got to get things off our chest. I’m happy you made me listen to some hard truths. And you know what else?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really happy with the man you’ve become, Stephen Strange.” You kiss his forehead softly, “I’m not naive, I know it won’t be perfect all the time. Life gets messy, yours more than others, but I promise I’ll exercise as much patience with you in that regard as possible. And as long as the effort doesn’t altogether stop from either of us after our three months is up, I don’t see how this won’t work. I can’t see how it wouldn’t be different. Because we’re different. And it’s a good different.” 

Stephen rests his forehead against your own and lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding as he admits, “If you call me your boyfriend again by the end of the third month… if you call me yours, I’m never leaving your side. You understand? I’ll fight you tooth and nail on it, but neither of us is ever walking away from the other again.”

You give a little giggle, “Us? Fighting? Never.”

“No, never.” He snorts

“You should stay tonight.” You murmur, “I’ve missed having someone to hold. I like holding you.”

He snuggles closer, “I like being held by you.”

A soft smile pulls at your lips and tears well in your eyes as you whisper, “That’s good.”

You already knew. You already knew you’d never be leaving him again. The last two months had left you not simply content, but incredibly happy. It still wasn’t perfect, but perfect was never the expectation. You and Stephen had both done a lot of growing in the last two years. Stephen had learned to take on a lot of responsibility and you had learned to temper expectations which resulted in a very nice balance. You were head over heels for him once again… and you weren’t the least bit disappointed about it.

Stephen paced outside of your door for ten minutes. This was it. You would decide today whether or not you’d keep him, whether or not he’d proved himself. You had more than proved yourself to him. You had been patient, tender, a shoulder to lean on. You were just the kind of woman he needed to lean on when things got tough. And you’d been very receptive to him on harder days. One day he’d shown up bruised and bloody after a fight… only a small on— just to see how you’d handle it! And you didn’t miss a beat. Not when you pulled him inside, not when you started asking where it hurt, not when you admitted you didn’t know how to properly stitch a wound and let him guide you through it. God, he was head over heels for you again. Though ‘again’ implied he’d ever fallen out of love with you, and that wasn’t accurate in the least.

He was planning how exactly to start his little speech. How was he going to tell you just how deeply he’d fallen for you. He wasn’t going to scare you if you weren’t there yet. And he’d understood if you decided you couldn’t do this— be with him. He wouldn’t be able to blame you with how things had ended last time. But he’d worked so hard to make things right. He hoped he’d made things right.

Stephen finally worked up the courage to knock on the door. He waited for what felt like an eternity… you never minded making him wait. He shifted back and forth, staring hard at the doormat beneath his feet, rerunning his speech for the hundredth time. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted you. The door opened and the two of you stood staring at one another for a moment. Then, before he even had a chance to enter his million-dollar spiel, your lips were on his.

Stephen crouched down and lifted you gently, wrapping your legs around his waist and walking the two of you through your door. He kicked it closed and pulled you impossibly closer, memorizing every little touch, every sigh, every breath. He set you gently on your kitchen island, running his hands over your legs, wishing desperately he’d have taken more time to feel the skin back when he could have. When you pulled away your eyes were red, tears brimming in your waterline, and if Stephen didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were tears of remorse.

But luckily, he knew you better than anyone.

“Be mine again?” He whispers, “Be mine and I’ll be yours. We took our time and space, but I’m done with it. We’ll do this thing right. This time it’ll be different, I swear.”

You nod and breathe out, “I’m yours, Dear.”

“You can love me for who I am?”

“I can.” You agree, “I do.” You twist a lock of his hair around your finger and ask, “Can you promise you’ll keep giving me your best effort?”

“I will.”

“Then yeah.” You kiss him softly once more, “I think it will be different.”

“Good morning.” One of the boys mumbled at the foot of the bed

“I hate mornings.” You declare, throwing an arm over your eyes

“You can’t hate mornings!” Billy chirped, “Mornings mean new days and new beginnings!”

“I’ve never wanted to sock someone in the face more than right now.” You grouch back

“He’s a morning person.” Gavin yawns, “I’d say you get used to it, but that would be a lie.”

“Awe, so sweet. Thanks, Babe.” You could hear kissy noises and didn’t know whether to smile or puke

“Your love is gross.” Christine decided for you, turning over and cuddling close to your side, “And you’re warm.”

“I have a sweatshirt you can wear.” 

“Please?”

“Never thought I’d be in bed with one pant-less woman, much less two as hot as these.” Gavin teases as you roll out of the bed, giving the back of your leg a playful slap

“Gay?”

“Gay. Straight?”

“Straight.” Billy confirms for you

“I get it.” He murmurs into his boyfriend’s chest, “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

“Literally any time.” You pull one of your smaller sweatshirts off the hanger, “Chrissy, sit up and put this on, Baby.”

Christine sits up and holds her arms in the air, making you laugh. You comply, slipping the hoodie on over her head. She immediately falls back into the bed and seems to go back to sleep in an instant. Lucky girl.

“You boys want coffee?” You ask, deciding to forgo pants since everyone in the room had seen your ass already

“Please.” Gavin agrees

“Me too.” Billy says, “Let me help?”

“C’mon. Leave the two bed bugs to their extra fifteen minutes of sleep.”

“Oh, I like her. Can we keep her, Billy? Please?” Gavin whines

“I think we will.” Billy smiles as he follows you out into the kitchen

Your new apartment was nice. Ten minutes from the hospital and at a price you frankly believed was impossible. It was full of bright colors and clashing patterns and mix-matched textures… it looked a bit like the seventies threw up. Which was exactly how you liked it. As you and Billy worked on gathering everything you needed for a makeshift coffee bar you heard two knocks at the front door. Billy looked at it with a furrowed brow, but you waved him off. It was likely just a package delivery or your next-door neighbor, who had already proven herself to be more than a little nosy on several different occasions. But then the same knock happened again after two minutes.

You sighed, wiping your hands on the dishrag, and drug yourself to the door.

“Good morning how can I help—“ You were simply dumbfounded, “I never gave you my address.”

“And I never gave you my phone number.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, staring up at Doctor Strange. Doctor Strange, who was standing outside your door at nine in the morning.

“I don’t know what—“

“You should check your texts when you get the chance. And tell Billy to make sure his phone is locked before he falls asleep next time.”

Billy, Gavin, and Christine were all wide awake now. Gavin and Christine had their ears pressed to the bedroom door, while Billy did his best not to make a peep around the corner.

“I um— I’ll do that.” You raise your arms to wipe the sleep from your eyes and find he’s still there when you remove them, “Is that all, or..?”

“No. I actually wanted to ask a favor of you.” Stephen admitted, looking down at you and trying very hard not to focus on the fact you were wearing a pair of lacy red panties he’d caught a glimpse of when you raised your arms to wipe at your eyes

“And that favor would entail what exactly? Because if it means leaving this apartment in the next hour, the answer is no.”

“First hangover?”

“I’m not hungover.” You argued, “But I am tired.”

“Drinking out of your league will do that to you.”

“Mhm. Speaking of ‘out of your league… how’s Jill from cardiology this morning?”

“Doesn’t just ‘Jill’ work?” Stephen asked unamused

“I dunno? Wouldn’t one nurse satisfy your needs better than the apparent hundred in the Rolodex?” Stephen looked rather taken aback by this making you smile, “What do you need, Strange?”

“Now that isn’t the way a friend would talk to another friend is it?”

“If that friend were a man-whore she might.” You press on, “No slut-shaming or whatever, just an observation.”

Stephen rolled his eyes and pulled a bag out from behind his back. Not just any bag, but a garment bag. He hung it on the frame of the front door and unzipped it carefully revealing a floor-length black gown. You instinctively reached out to touch the material. It was soft like satin. The bodice was form-fitting down through the hip where it turned into a straight silhouette. The straps weren’t thin, they would provide some support, which would be entirely necessary with the ‘v’ neckline that dipped in the front of the dress.

“Something tells me that’s not going to fit Christine…” You hear yourself say, still marveling over the stitching on the dress— not one skip, not one pucker

“No. But you… you wear an eighteen, in dresses and jeans. Your scrubs are an XXL, but you size up the bottoms sometimes because—“ Stephen cleared his throat and allowed himself a brief glance downward, “because it gives you more room. Your cup size is a double D, your band a forty-four.”

“Why?” Is all you could say

“Need you to be a bit more specific than that.”

“Why are you standing at my door at nine in the morning with a dress— an insanely beautiful dress, I’ll admit.” You spared him one glance and a small smile, “But why are you at my door with it instead of with one at Christine’s?”

“You know why.” He said cooly, “You heard the conversation just as clearly as I did.”

“I heard—“

“You were sitting right there when she made the call, so yes, you heard. She’s decided we’re friends and with the way you ushered everyone out of the bar after seeing me last night, I don’t think you believe her yet. And if she wants to be friends, I don’t want to make it any harder for her than necessary.” You eye him suspiciously as he closes the garment bag, “But you. You said last night that we’re friends. So we have an established relationship with firm boundaries. And I need someone to take to this gala tonight.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because— well because for every reason you just said! She’s trying to get over you and you want me to go parading around with you at this gala? Are you crazy? At the beginning of the month I walked in on you talking about how unfit for you I was and now I’m going to stand by your side at some charity event?” You scoff

“I did mean it when I said I was sorry.” He probably hadn’t been more genuinely remorseful for anything in the past decade, but that felt like overkill

“You wrote you were sorry.”

“That’s a hell of a lot more than most people get.” He shakes his head before eyeing you up and down, “And I meant what I said at the end of the note too.” You felt yourself blush and turned around, throwing your arms over your head trying to think, trying to find a way out of this, “You’ve known her less than three weeks.” Stephen persists, allowing himself to take in the now crystal-clear view of your ass since you’d thrown your arms over your head

He couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not and that drove him crazy.

“And she’s shown me nothing but kindness in those three weeks! Why would I—“

“Because I was an ass and I said something rude, but we’re trying this friend thing. I assume that’s for her too, yes?”

You spin in a circle for lack of better things to do as you contemplate, “Yes.”

“Okay, so then go with me, and let’s get to be friends.”

“You know you’ve never even properly introduced yourself to me, right?” You place your hands on your hips, ignoring what he thought was a valid point, “The only reason I know what the first ’S’ stood for on that note you left is because of Christine.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows and shrugged before holding out his hand, “Doctor Stephen Strange, neurologist at Metro General. Owner of the first reserved spot next to the door in the parking deck.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. You actually laughed at the asshole.

“This is usually the part where you introduce yourself back, maybe shake my hand? Do we need to work on that before tonight?”

“Give me two hours to decide. No important decision should be made before ten in the morning.”

He smirked but gave you a nod and handed you the garment bag, “If you still decide not to go, keep the dress. I’m certain it will look wonderful on you.”

“Right…”

“I’ll hear from you in the next hour then?”

You bite into your bottom lip and correct, “The next two hours.”

“Perfect. You have my number.”

And with that Stephen spun on his heel and walked off down the hallway. As soon as that front door shut, the bedroom door opened, and Christine and Gavin tripped over one another to get out. Billy came running into the corridor, sliding into the wall thanks to his sock-clad feet. Gavin snatched the dress from your hands and hung it on the bedroom door’s frame. He unzipped the bag and marveled at the dress, going on and on about how it truly would look gorgeous on you. Christine took your hands in her own and let out a string of questions starting with ‘what note’ all the way to ’when did you get his number’ and throwing in the occasional, ‘oh my God.’ Billy simply slumped against the wall, watching the madness unfurl in front of him. He could not believe he had scored front-row seats to this show.

You forced yourself into your room, digging through the bed sheets, comforter, and what appeared to be five different blankets. You didn’t even know you owned five different blankets. When you finally found your phone, the other three practically jumped you trying to get to the messages before you. You and Billy stood on the bed yelling at one another while Christine and Gavin grabbed at whatever fabric and skin was available to them trying to get to the phone.

“Hey!” You finally shouted, “I will read them out loud and then we will make a verdict as to what the absolute fuck I’m supposed to tell him to get out of this!”

“You’re not going?” Christine and Gavin yelled back at the same time

“No, she’s not going!” Billy defended at just an obscene volume as the rest of you had been using, “What? You want to add her to his Rolodex now?”

“He’s not trying to put her on the Rolodex!” Christine defends

“And how would you know?” You shout back

“Because that was a genuine offer! Not a ‘come over to my place at one in the morning’ call!”

“Christine!”

“It’s been a long time of back and forth, okay?” She collapses on the bed at your feet, “Now read the messages.”

And so you did. After the first read-aloud, the group passed around the phone, scrutinizing the messages carefully. You then explained the note that Strange had left on your windshield, which was met with a resounding silence from all parties. The phone was passed around a second time, and a third, and you briefly considered telling them you still had the note in your work bag, but thought better of it.

“You should go…” Christine finally starts, the three of you whipping your heads toward her, “He’s… this is him trying. He said it himself— he wants to be your friend.”

“He said he’s doing it for you.” You remind her

“No.” She disagrees, “He’s asking you for you. He’s taking you instead of me for me.”

“I don’t see the difference.” Billy says taking a sip from his mug of coffee that he’d silently prepared while listening to you and Stephen

“Because in one it’s all about me.” Christine explains, “In the other, it’s about us both.” She grabs your hands smiling and though there are tears in her eyes she demands, “If you go with him, at least we’ll know he’ll behave himself tonight. And— and maybe you’ll really like him if you get to know him!”

You retract from her immediately, “Christine, I’m only going to be friendly with him at work because it’s what you asked of me. And we’ve barely gotten to that! I did not anticipate that it would expand into my personal life.”

“You were practically begging when I suggested taking you out at work.”

“Yes! Because you’re enjoyable to be around, Billy! Look at me and tell me you find Doctor Strange enjoyable.”

“He’s funny.” Christine announces, “And he really can make good conversation. You just need to get it started sometimes…”

“So I’m what? A glorified babysitter?”

“No!” She argues back, “I just… I think you’re good for him. Or at least, you would be. Will be! We’ll know for sure after tonight.”

“Christine are you sure…”

“Yes.” She nods solemnly, “I am certain. Go for me?”

You look behind Christine to Gavin and Billy, both of whom stare at you, and you can practically see them holding their breath. When you nod they all give a squeal of excitement, and you shake your head collapsing on the bed. Gavin runs back out to the hall and hangs the dress from your wardrobe, immediately beginning to dig through the shoes in your closet. Billy takes you in his arms and rocks you back and forth as if trying to comfort you. And then you hear a ringing next to your ear before a click.

“Hello, Nurse May. An answer so quickly?”

You look at Christine with murder in your eyes and take the phone from her hand into your own, “Well— what better do I have to do on a Sunday night in a new city?”

“Not looking to get drunk again?”

“I wasn’t necessarily looking to get drunk last night. Are you looking to get laid again?” You shoot back

You could hear a snort, “Why, are you?”

You scoff, “The opposite. We’ll set the ground rules before we leave my place. What time will you be here to pick me up?”

“6:30.” 

“I’ll be outside then. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then you hang up. Pushing up from the bed and joining Gavin at the closet. He’s pulled out a pair of plain black strappy heels and some nude pumps. You replace the pumps in the closet and he nods in agreement. 

“I don’t own any nice jewelry aside from pearls.” You tell Gavin

“You can borrow some of mine. I have a few that should go well with this dress.” Christine runs a hand over the fabric, “He really… I can’t believe he bought you this.”

You felt your brows furrow, “He never bought you a dress for these events?” Christine shakes her head in a silent no, “He probably figured I wouldn’t have anything suitable. And to be fair… he was right. You’re much more of the high-class kinda’ gal.” You told her, which seemed to lift her spirits a bit, “Let’s go grab some coffee and we can drop these two off and go to your place to look through the accessories.” You point to Billy and Gavin, who look like they want to protest, but don’t with the look you shoot them, “I’ll send pictures before I go. I know if I let you three stay here you’ll be leaning against the front door all night waiting for me to get back. And you two…” You gesture to Christine and Billy, “Are both on the schedule tomorrow, so you need to sleep.” They both murmur protests, but with Gavin’s help they settle down, “I will update you on Monday morning.” You promise

She said yes. 

Stephen laughed to himself standing in line for coffee, shooting the barista a wink, and making her blush just for the hell of it. He could hardly anticipate exactly how tonight would go, but he had a feeling it would go just fine. Because as much as he resented you for it, you were charming. And much more sociable than Christine who couldn’t fathom introducing herself to someone she didn’t know. He figured you would not have that same issue.

He also figured you would be a perfectly stunning date, just as appealing as Christine had ever been. People always enjoyed meeting the new women on his arm, and he always enjoyed watching them stutter and blush as they tried to qualify what exactly they were to him. Other women liked meeting the new women on his arm. Trying to sink their claws into them and climb their way into his social space. He would most enjoy watching you respond to that. Not that he would care how you responded either way. It was just interesting to see. Christine always shrank back, hid herself behind him, and waited for a defense.

When he got home he threw open his closet door and received a text from Billy almost immediately reminding him that his suit was at the dry cleaners. It was like Billy had some weird omnipotent presence in his life, always aware of exactly where he was and what he was thinking. It was what made him the perfect assistant, and also what made Stephen want to rip his head off from time to time. With a groan Stephen turned around and grabbed his car keys off the counter, preparing to take the drive downtown to his favorite dry cleaners. And when he got into the driver’s seat he found himself smiling.

Smiling at the idea of taking you with him tonight.

Dammit.

You took a quick picture in the mirror, sending it immediately into a group chat with Billy, Gavin, and Christine. At six thirty-one you made your way downstairs in the elevator, fidgeting with the stones around your neck and in your ears. Christine had insisted on them, though you were certain they cost more than a year’s worth of rent, and it was making you violently nervous.

“Will you please tell me how much they’re worth so I can be stressed about it all night?” You had begged, looking over Christine’s insane collection of jewels

Her largest vice, she had explained, was all that glittered and shone. Sad? A new necklace. Breakup? A new pair of earrings. Hard day at work? Blow a paycheck on a tennis bracelet.

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling you.” She argued, “One of the plus-sides to being single in your thirties. Do and buy whatever you want. Nothing is ever really out of your pay grade.”

“I usually just order some nachos and wallow on the couch.” You murmured back

“Nachos work too.” She shrugged, “Sometimes I put on my jewels with a pair of sweats and sit on my couch with a tub of ice cream watching The Bachelor.”

“Okay, please invite me to that next time?” You demanded with a laugh

“I will. But for now…” She ran her hand over the glass casing where a row of necklaces in every viable color sat, “I think chocolate diamonds would look amazing with your hair and skin, but since the dress is black…” She lifted the casing and delicately held up a necklace, “Ten-carat cushion-cut emerald, the necklace itself composed of the highest grade diamonds possible. One half round cut, the other half pear cut, nearly fifteen carats altogether. It would be stunning with your eyes.”

“Christine! I can’t wear that rock around my neck!”

“Why not?” She pouted, “I rarely get an excuse to wear them anymore, so do it for me.” She gave her best puppy dog eyes, “If you don’t wear it who will?”

You groaned into your hands, peeking through your fingers at the jewels hanging so precariously from Ms. Palmer’s index finger. She rolled her eyes and laid it down on the counter on top of a cloth and move to the opposite side of the display where there are more earrings than you’d ever know what to do with. She pulled a pair from the shelf and walks over to you, turning you to face the little stand-alone mirror on top of the display cases.

“I feel like I’m in a Tiffany’s.” You muttered, watching as she brings the earrings up to each of your ears and beams

“Each emerald is two carrot cushion-cut, sitting below two pear-cut diamonds… don’t remember how many carats they are. I’d say about a half-carat each. Both the necklace and earrings are plated in platinum. Which is perfect for you, since your skin leans cooler toned. And I was right. Your eyes glitter brighter than they do.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You announced, “These are worth more than my car.”

Christine snorted and gave a look of disbelief, “They’re worth a hell of a lot more than that, Honey.” She laughs as you bury your face in your hands again and comes up behind you for a hug, “And I trust you with them fully. If you lose a back it’ll be fine, and you’ll know if those earrings or necklace come off, they weigh too much not to notice. Now please, don’t argue with me, just accept. I promise the people you’ll meet tonight expect more than pearls.”

“Who gives a damn what they think.” You reply, scrunching your nose at her in the mirror

“That’s the spirit.” She laughed once more, “He couldn’t have picked a better or worse person to take to this event. Give them hell.”

“That is the plan.” You smiled back at her through the mirror

When you stepped out of your apartment building you were met with the cold night air. You were also incredibly surprised to find Strange already leaning against his car, looking way too dashing in his suit. His hair preened to perfection, checking his watch. When he hears the door close behind you he gives a loud sigh and checks his watch rather over dramatically. He raises his wrist to eye level and feigns annoyance, rolling his eyes and looking to the sky.

“I’ll be outside then. Don’t be late.” He mocks in a high-pitched tone and shitty southern accent

Despite yourself, you laugh at him, being returned a charming smile as he finally turns his attention to you. He takes a few steps forward and appraises you, eyes scanning from your head to toes and back up again. You could almost swear he gives a real smile, something you don’t think you’ve seen before. 

“You look… lovely.” He decides after a moment’s hesitation, “Better than. I’ve just never been a flatterer.”

You give a very unladylike snort, “Oh, really? Because you’re normally so wonderful and sunny, I’d have never guessed.”

“I know, but it’s true.” He gives a little smirk, the more familiar version of his smile, “You do look wonderful. I have magnificent taste.” He holds out his hand and you take it tentatively letting him spin you around on the sidewalk, “What do you think?”

“I think the back is much lower than I would normally wear.” You admit

“Why’s that?”

You reach around your back and poke at one of your rolls, spinning to show him, “Because as you have been so kind as to point out to me, I am overweight.”

He sighs and hangs his head, “Will you ever forgive me for that?”

“Maybe if you apologize enough, yes.” You decide, “And if I think you actually mean it.”

“I do mean it.” He says earnestly

“Well, then that’s a very good start, sir.” You crack a small smile, “Now… ground rules.”

“Ground rules.” He repeats

“I am not your date, I am a friend from work—“

“Who is accompanying me as my date for the night.” He interrupts, earning a scathing glare

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” You sigh, “Second, no touching unless it’s to maintain a chivalrous appearance or you specifically ask beforehand.”

“Isn’t chivalry dead?”

“At this rate, I’m starting to believe so.” You huff, not really referring to him, but happy to let him believe so to keep his ego in check, “And lastly, you will answer anything I ask you honestly, just as I will for you.”

“What makes you think I’m dishonest?” He asks quickly

You crack another smile, one he thought was rather sad, “I’ve had a lifetime of dishonest friends and men— often there’s a large overlap. Consider me tired.” You state dryly, “It’s not you I find dishonest, Doctor Strange, it’s just how it goes.”

“You get along fine with the rest of our male coworkers.” He felt the need to point out

“They’ve shown me nothing but kindness.”

“The same as Christine.” Stephen shakes his head at the ground, “You’re quick to trust.”

“And it’s even quicker to lose.” You shoot back, drawing another real smile from him

“I agree to the conditions.” He said, wanting to hold out his hand, but realizing it was still entwined in yours from where he had spun you around, “Let’s get you in the car. It’s too cold out here. You should’ve brought a coat.”

You give a soft laugh, “I couldn’t decide if denim or leather would look better.”

Stephen ducked his head to hide another smile as he opened the car door for you, “So then I was correct in the assumption that you would need the dress?” He continued to hold your hand until you were comfortably seated, only then letting go

He walked quickly to the other side, sliding into the seat with practiced ease. He smiled at the way you looked around the car, running your hand over the leather seats, brows knitting together observing the admittedly complicated-looking console in the dash. He laughed when you reached out and touched it, your eyes going wide when the floorboard lights lit up with it flashing red across your feet and face.

“What do you think?” He asked, starting up the engine

You listened intently to the purr of the engine before admitting, “I think… I think I prefer Daisy.”

“Daisy?”

“Yeah, my Jeep. I feel like we’re sitting so… low.” You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, trying to posture yourself up, make yourself feel bigger

Daisy. Like the plastic daisy on your keychain.

He let out another laugh and eyed you out of the corner of his eye. He loved the way you’d done your hair in those large bouncy curls, noting that it must have been left down in an attempt to cover more of your back, which he didn’t see an issue with. He also adored the necklace hanging around your neck, which you kept reaching up to mess with at every chance. It was Christine’s. One of his favorites from her absurd collection. He wondered if she’d offered the necklace up simply to spite him and remind him that she wasn’t the one in his passenger seat. That was the sort of petty act she would commit. One of many over the last year or so.

He liked seeing you done up, your face painted over lightly with makeup. Your lips had a shine to them that made it very hard to look away from. He thought you looked just as beautiful as always, not simply lovely as he had said. The truth was, you looked so stunning he’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe. But you didn’t need to know that, just as he didn’t need to put too much thought into it. It was a normal reaction to seeing something beautiful; The pulse quickens, the pupils dilate, increase in body temperature— it was nothing more than that, a physiological response.

As Stephen started to pull away from the curb you tutted at him, reaching across his chest and securing his seatbelt for him. He raised his arms compliantly but gave you a thoroughly unimpressed stare.

“Dangerous.” You stated simply

“Never been in a wreck before.”

“And I guarantee if you were in one, that seat belt would save your life.” You admonished him, “Besides, you just look like you drive like an asshole. So be a good boy and wear it for me.”

“Fine.” He huffed out, immediately proving you correct as he bolted away from the curb without glancing at his rearview or side mirrors. He navigates through the console to find his Bluetooth, kindly enough inquiring, “What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Uhm— country and rock mostly.”

“New country or old country?”

“From the fifties to the early two-thousands. I’m not too picky though. Whatever you’d normally listen to works just fine.”

“Rock it is then.” He complied happily, hitting shuffle on one of the thousands of playlists stored away on his phone

‘Kiss From A Rose’ immediately started humming through the surround sound, and you smiled happily. You hummed softly to yourself as you ran your hands over the fabric of your dress. It felt cool beneath your unreasonably warm palms for having been standing in the cold for five minutes. Stephen kept sneaking glances at you that he hoped you weren’t noticing, though you did, making you more uneasy. You couldn’t tell if his compliments had been genuine, and then you’d pointed out one of your most hated flaws to him which he would certainly hyper-focus on for the rest of the night—

“What are you so nervous for?” His voice broke the silence

“Because I’m with one of my new friends kinda’ ex-boyfriend going to an event— a gala… or whatever— and I’ve never been to one before and I’m in my head, so just let me work through it.”

“What are you in your head about?” He asked, genuinely confused, “Is it Christine or what? Because something tells me if she really had a problem with it you wouldn’t have a hundred and seventy-five thousand wrapped around your neck and in your ears.”

You let out a little shriek that Strange found both annoying and amusing, watching as you yanked down the sun shade and looked at the jewelry in the mirror, “Is that how much it cost?” You exclaimed, panic evident in your voice, “Oh my God, I need to take it off now!”

“Relax.” Stephen breathed out, “I was only joking…” 

He was not, in fact, joking.

“Besides, they look great on you. I like the green with your eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes at yourself in the mirror and gave a huff slamming it shut, much to Stephen’s displeasure, “It’s funny, Christine said the same.”

“Well, she was right.”

“I’m willing to bet she normally is.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Speaking of Christine…” Stephen let out a groan, but you press forward, “Why?”

“I need you to be more specific than that. Why what?”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

“I think you know exactly why.”

“No, I know why she thinks you’re not together.” You argue, “I’m guessing your reasoning looks a lot different than hers.”

Stephen let out a sigh, “I’m just— I’m not really a relationship kinda’ guy.” He runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t really believe in marriage and I don’t exactly want a family so…”

“Ohh…” You breathed out, “You’re one of those.”

“One of those?” Stephen asked, slightly offended

“Yeah. The perpetual bachelor type.”

“By choice.” He grunted, more to himself than to you

“Hey, no judgment here!” You clarified, “Like I said this morning, man-whore all you want, just maybe be upfront with the women receiving the whoring?”

“I didn’t realize I needed to be more upfront. I thought the fact that we were casually sleeping together instead of being in an established relationship said that.”

“Oh, you’re so much dumber than everyone thinks.” You snicker to yourself

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

“I am not—“

“You’re insanely gifted when it comes to surgery from what I’ve heard and read, and I’m certain there’s a lot of other things you excel at too, but you haven’t the slightest intuition for human nature, do you, Doctor Strange?” The way you asked it so assuredly made Stephen aware you had already well made up your mind on the subject

“I might be a bit— insensitive to others, yeah.” He admitted, “You think you aren’t?”

“I can be, but I know how to turn it on and off. It’s why I have the job I do.” You shrug, “I couldn’t do brain surgery and you couldn’t calm down an assault victim.”

Stephen let out a laugh of disbelief, “Oh, please. I so could.”

“Mm.” Is all you hummed in response, multiplying his frustration tenfold with one syllable

“I could!”

“Alright, Doc.” You soothed him, running a hand over the arm laid across the center console, “I believe you could.”

“Thank you.” He huffs out, finding himself liking the way you ran your arm up and down his forearm far too much, “Is um— is she alright?”

“No.” The bluntness of the statement made him feel like he’d been sucker punched, “But she’ll be okay.” You smiled to yourself, a soft, sweet sort of smile that Stephen hoped he might be able to draw out of you himself this evening, “She cares about you— a lot.” You added on

“I know.” And he did, but he tried not to think about it too often, “If I could care for her the same I would.”

“But?”

It was Stephen’s turn to shrug, “I’m not built like that. Not built for the interpersonal relationships, the drama, the ‘he said’ and ‘she said.’ Just never appealed to me.”

“What a luxury.” You murmured more to yourself than him, “To care only for you.”

“What? Don’t have it in you to be selfish?”

You looked over to him as he stopped at a red light and smirked repeating, “I’m not built like that.”

“Right.”

A silence settled through the car again before you finally heard the insane amount of vibrations coming from the clutch that you’d placed between your leg and the center console. 

Strange glanced at it before smirking to himself and asking, “Brought any toys along I should know about?”

You scoffed, “No, Doctor, I simply have friends trying to contact me. I’m sure it’s a foreign concept to you…” You ducked your head to dig your phone out of the clutch, praying he hadn’t caught the pink lighting your cheeks ablaze at the suggestion of a ’toy’

“Who is it?” Stephen glanced over at the screen curiously, seeing a lot of caps and a creative array of emoticons

“Nosey.” You chide before relenting, “Just my fan club letting me know how stunning I am.”

“Fan club including…” Stephen continued trying to read your screen, curious if anyone had mentioned him

“Eyes on the road, please.” You asked, his negligence making you uneasy, “I’ll read them to you if you’re that curious.”

“Sorry.” He quickly uprighted himself

“Thank you. Let’s see… Christine is trying to convince me that this necklace looks better on me than her, which is frankly impossible given she’s herself.” 

Stephen thought it looked perfectly lovely on both of you, though for different reasons. Christine’s hair stood out against the green, and her skin was so pale and clear she looked nearly ethereal whenever she adorned herself in her jewels. The necklace also looked more suited for Christine— she was the type of woman to actually own something like that. You looked like you’d never owned a real set of jewels before in your life. But the necklace really did make your eyes seem brighter, pulling them more green and gold than the brown he was used to seeing under the fluorescent lights in the hospital. He also thought the necklace sat around your neck perfectly, looking so delicately placed and perfectly positioned no matter how you moved. Whereas Christine’s smaller frame sometimes made it look like the necklace was wearing her.

“Gavin texted an incredibly filthy set of emojis— which is honestly very nice of him given that he is gay.” You laugh to yourself looking at the peach emojis, water spurts, and drooling mouths on your screen, opting to leave out where Gavin had quoted below it ’Doctor Sexy seeing you in that dress,’ “And Billy thinks my tits look good.”

Stephen gave a snort that turned into a laugh before glancing sideways at you, “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to agree or not…”

You considered for a moment before relenting, “I’ll allow it once.”

“Your rack looks great.” Stephen said without hesitation, making you burst into a fit of giggles, “I knew the lower neckline was a good idea.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Eyes above the necklace the rest of the night, Doctor.”

“Yes ma’am.” He conceded easily, pleased to have made you laugh for him, flashing that brilliant smile that made him smile in return

And then he remembered he should not be smiling so much, and immediately turned it off. You were the last resort date, a quick fix in a tight pinch, the last ditch effort. That’s all. Just a friend doing another friend a favor after an apology note and a series of drunken texts.

That’s all.

Her heart stopped beating for an instant, while the realization was sinking in… there was an indescribable ache, so hard to breathe… imagining his arms around them, giving those women the same pleasure he gave her endless nights.

He was just as shocked as she was, and quickly he tried to get up, untangling himself from them, shit, what did he do? Y/N didn’t deserved that. As she felt her stomach up in her throat, she couldn’t watch them anymore.

Snapping fast from her trance, she found herself turning around, strangely calmed, a realization hitting her like a bullet, heartbeat now drumming against her ribs, her fingers felt numb, clumsy, as if she had a big cloud inside her head.

She wasn’t going to make a huge drama out of it, she wouldn’t ask for explanations, she didn’t feel like listening to lame excuses to justify his actions. No, she walked out of there in silence, with her heart shattered into million pieces, yes, but she would get over it, just like she had been all of her life.

Tommy rushed to get dressed, shouting for her to wait, he would ask for forgiveness, beg on his knees, tell her it was just a mistake. Fumbling with his pants, he picked up his peaky cap from the floor, breaking an empty bottle of whiskey as he stumbled. Trying hard to tuck in his shirt inside of his pants, but she was gone already. She was the best thing of his fucking life and he ruined.

Heart like yours is rare to find

Someone else's gain will be my loss

Revenge could come in different forms, she could’ve steal all the money from the safe in their room or the one in his office, fuck him over, force him to buy her expensive presents to make it up for it all, she could fuck anyone right there in front of him just to give him back what he did. Anyone would suggest make him pay, make him beg and watch him suffer…

But she wasn’t going to make an scandal. No, her reaction was much lethal than that.

She would leave in silence, without tears, without shouting, no pointing fingers.

He turned out to be just like his father, she knew that would kill him, the comparison.

Choose your words before you speak

Can you see that all you've got is time?

Tommy rushed down the street cursing at himself, feeling the worse headache forming and found her in their bedroom, a single travel bag over the bed, she was calmly folding her clothes.

Just as she packed their bags to go to their country house.

“Y/N please.” Tommy pleaded desperate.

His words meant nothing now, all of those empty promises, the dreams they had together… gone.

Seeing her like that was worse than hear her shouting, breaking things, yelling at him. That would’ve been the expected reaction after what she saw. But she wasn’t even crying or hitting him, he deserved that.

He’d have preferred that, a million slaps than this.

She took a moment to check her belongings and walked towards the dresser to retrieve her passport and important papers. She arrived to this house with just a few things and she would leave just about the same.

“Y/N… nothing I could say could repair what I did, but I swear it meant nothing, it was a mistake, I was so drunk…” she wasn’t even listening to him anymore, it was just a buzz in the back of her mind. “I lost control…” he drank a lot, mixed it with an obscene amount of snow, didn’t even realize…fuck.

Walking into the nursery, she went directly to the first drawer and carefully, took a blanket that Polly knitted for the baby, the nappies and the rabbit that Ada bought for their unborn child. Yeah, she really didn’t need all those expensive gifts he gave her.

“I’ll go somewhere else, you can stay here I won’t bother you,” Tommy kept babbling while she walked past him, back into the bedroom they once shared.

Still in complete silence.

He knew Y/N better than the palm of his hand, he knew he should stay away right now, but he needed her to stop packing, this silent treatment only added more worry and stress to his already altered heart.

And that was the only time she dared to look at him in the eyes, making him wish she never did. Shoving away his hand from her body as he tried to reach her.

Tommy deserved a slap, deserved to have his balls cut, but she wasn’t going to lose time in that.

He started to see white dots when Y/N closed the bag, it wasn’t completely full yet and she seemed to be done.

And not just with the bag, but with him as well.

Tommy rubbed his hands all over his face, lost for words, feeling his entire world coming to an imminent end. It didn’t matter that he was stronger than her, in that very moment he felt so small, so useless, knowing that nothing he did, would make her change her mind.

But he tried, he tried to grab the bag from her hands as she stood at the top of the stairs, still begging for forgiveness.

“Fine, I don’t need that either.” She wasn’t even going to try to fight him over the bag, especially not close to the stairs, she just wanted to leave.

She knew she deserved better, not because she was someone important, but because she knew her value and she wanted respect, simple as that. Birmingham could be his territory, but he wasn’t her owner.

“No no, Y/N, listen to me please…” he rushed down, to stop her from opening the door.

But she was determined to leave, with or without the bag, of course that wasn’t going to stop her.

Before she met him, she had several wooers, with better intentions than him, but he was determined to make her fall for him, and that was the greatest mistake of her life.

Oh darling, save yourself for someone else

“We’ve a story together, Y/N, please…”

Save yourself

Oh, won't you save yourself?

“You can’t take away my child!” He snapped breathlessly, panicking because he was running out of time, of reasons to make her stay.

Are you going to break?

The look Y/N gave him, could’ve easily turned him into stone, a sarcastic smile playing in her lips.

“Now it’s a good time to remember you have a baby on the way, should’ve think of that last night, don’t you think?”

Y/N ripped the bag from his hand.

It would be just her baby and herself, away from this life, away from the risks, away from his lies.

She was unsure of a lot of things, but there was one around her mind in that very moment, sometimes you need to save yourself.

The worst part of it, was that Tommy knew deep down, that Y/N would be better off without him.

***

Master list

As usual, your thoughts are my favorite part 💕