#spacemermaid writes

Tony cocked his eyebrow. “I never thought I would see the day you admit that Raven Boy is better than you in something magic related.”

“Loki is over a thousand years old. And Vanaheim and Asgard were rather close. Chances are high he has seen this exact artifact before,” the sorcerer said as a matter-of-fact.

It was a valid argument, Tony had to concede. “Okay, then call him. Or send a raven. Speak into your crystal ba-”

Stephen opened a portal right into Thor and Loki’s kitchen. The younger prince sat at the table, casually eating cornflakes – specifically, Frosted Flakes – while clad in comfortable lounge wear. Right, it was about morning in Norway.

Loki looked up from his bowl, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “Strange,” he remarked, his tone dripping with skepticism. He was clearly not pleased about the unexpected interruption. “What do you want?”

Even though his voice was far from being nice, he didn’t outright throw a nasty hex at Stephen for invading his privacy. The sorcerer took that as a positive sign. Things were progressing between them. “I’ve got something you might want to take a look at,” he explained the call.

“A book?” Loki tilted his head, a flicker of interest crossing his features for just a moment.

“It’s Avengers related.”

The Asgardian sighed dramatically, clearly unimpressed. So, not a book. “As you clearly see, I am having breakfast. I will come over afterwards.”

Stephen nodded. Fair enough. “We are on the thirty-seventh floor of the tower,” he informed Loki before he closed the portal. Then he turned back to Tony, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused expression. “Don’t be surprised if he makes you wait, just because he can.”

“The only thing that I’m surprised about is how well you handle the Charming Disaster,” Tony quipped, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back against a table, arms crossed.

As he spoke, the door of the elevator opened, and Friday chimed in with a warning tone. “Boss…”

But before she could finish her sentence, Loki was already strolling in. In the mere eight seconds since Stephen had closed the portal, Loki had managed to change into attire that was decidedly less pajama-like and far more presentable.

“I don’t need to be handled,” the Asgardian announced pointedly, his voice firm and self-assured. It was clear he had caught the tail end of their conversation. He must have had the fastest breakfast in history. “And I don’t understand your ways to select nicknames, Titanium-Gold Alloy Man.”

Tony squinted at him. “You see, when you say something like that, it’s difficult to believe you.”

Stephen noticed the slightest of smirks on Loki’s lips. The Asgardian had a special sense of humor. The sorcerer slowly started to understand and appreciate it; it was another layer of complexity that made Loki all the more intriguing.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the artifact. Loki turned his attention to the mirror—and immediately forgot all jesting. The way his focus zoomed in on it and his face hardened, he knew what it was. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice laced with an urgency that betrayed his calm facade.

“Every now and then the people with questionable morals that we meet on a daily basis have rather interesting collections,” Tony explained easily.

Stephen snorted, unable to resist the urge to interject. “If every person with ‘questionable morals’ qualifies as a villain, we’d have a lot more work to do. Especially if we count business people in,” he added, raising an eyebrow at Tony, who merely shrugged in response. He was not wrong.

Loki, however, had tuned out their conversation and stepped closer to the item on the table. He brushed his finger over the silver handle almost with a wistful sorrow. His expression shifted, deep in thought, and for a moment, he seemed to be lost in the past.

Then, as if pulled back to reality by an unseen force, he closed his fingers around the handle and picked it up with a sense of reverence.

“This is the Glimmering Shard of Veyrith,” he said absently, before he remembered where he was and turned to the other two men, his demeanor shifting from contemplative to resolute. “It used to be in royal Asgardian possession. I will take it from here.”

“Now hold your horses, Mama Sleipnir,” Tony immediately protested. “You can’t just take a potentially harmful object with you.”

Loki’s eyes darkened and he straightened his shoulders unconsciously. “I can and I will. It belongs with me.”

“What does it even do?” Tony inquired.

Loki was reluctant to answer, his posture defensive. It made Stephen step in before the situation escalated further. “Loki, you have to admit that Stark has a point. You have to give us something,” his voice was calm but firm. He didn’t want to fight the prince about this, but he would if necessary.

Reluctantly, Loki gave in, though his expression remained guarded. “It shows memories. Past and potential futures,” he explained curtly. He spoke like he didn’t want to share anything of this mirror, not even information. “The last time I saw it, it was around the convergence.”

Tony didn’t know what the Asgardian was talking about, but Stephen had heard about the convergence, even though that was before his path had led him to Kamar-Taj. During the convergence, the dark elves had attacked London due to a fierce conflict with Asgard. It was around the same time they had lost their queen – and suddenly, Stephen realized the connection.

The hand mirror was an artifact from Vanaheim in royal Asgardian possession. It must have been Frigga’s. The revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning; it explained Loki’s emotional attachment to it.

The sorcerer relaxed. He would not fight the prince about it.

Meanwhile, Tony had more questions. “Future memories? How does that even work?”

“Magic,” Stephen and Loki said in unison.

The engineer groaned with exasperation, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Great. Now I have two of you cryptic magic people around. Just what I needed.”

Loki glanced at Stephen, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes before he turned his head back to Tony. “I could explain it to you, but you hardly ever listen when it’s about magic,” he remarked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“No wonder with how little aptitude for the arcane arts he has,” Stephen added, his tone dry.

“You noticed that too? I have rarely met anyone with such a low talent for magic…”

“Of course,” the sorcerer replied wryly. “It’s hard not to notice.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Tony protested, his voice rising in indignation as both of the mages rolled their eyes at him. The nerve of them! “But seriously. How?”

“I would guess it's some kind of probability calculation,” Stephen said. “Whichever future is most likely to occur. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s infused with time-stone power.”

Loki tilted his head, as if he was considering this possibility for the first time, intrigued by the implications. “That might be possible. Some of the mirror’s future memories are more accurate than other times. It rarely shows something interesting from the future, though.”

So he had clearly used it before. It confirmed Stephen's theory..

“That’s all very interesting, but you still can’t take it,” Tony insisted, his tone firm as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The prince looked like he was three seconds away from bolting, making a portal and simply disappearing with the mirror in hand. Sensing the rising tension, Stephen decided to step in and mediate. “Since Loki is familiar with the artifact–“

“The Glimmering Shard of Veyrith,” Loki corrected him, his tone almost possessive, and Stephen shot him a look. He was helping the Asgardian here, so Loki better keep his comments to himself and shut up.

“… and since it’s not malicious, it will be safe to remain with him for the time being. Yet, the data Stark’s scans are able to provide will be valuable insight for future missions. We will do that first. You can wait another hour to take the Glimmering Shard of Veyrith home, Loki,” Stephen concluded, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Two hours,” Tony chimed in.

“One and a half,” Loki countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed his options.

“Deal.” Tony held out his hand expectantly, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. Loki hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his features, but ultimately realized that it would be easier to cooperate for the time being. Reluctantly, he handed the mirror to the engineer.

With the artifact now in Tony's possession, he turned to walk toward one of the many labs in the tower, his mind already racing with ideas for how to analyze the artifact’s abilities.

Loki followed him to keep an eye on the artifact. Stephen followed them to keep an eye on Loki and Stark, walking next to the Asgardian.

“I knew her,” he said unprompted.

Loki glanced at him. “Who?”

“Queen Frigga. She was a remarkable woman. Gentle, yet with a fierceness.”

Loki stared at him, his expression faltering for a moment, blindsided by this unexpected revelation. “You can’t,” he finally managed to say, disbelief etched across his features. “She died before you…”

The Queen of Asgard had passed away years before Stephen became the Sorcerer Supreme; in fact, it was long before he even knew of the Mystic Arts. Yet, Stephen smiled wryly, as if the answer was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. “Time is not straight-lined,” he said, his hand wandering to the Eye of Agamotto resting on his chest.

Loki’s eyes followed the movement, widening in understanding. When wielding an Infinity Stone, the normal rules didn’t apply. The implications of this realization began to dawn on him, and something shifted in the prince’s face – a glimmer of hope emerged, flickering like a candle in the dark. If Stephen had met Frigga in a past time, then there was a chance – albeit a slim one – that Loki could see his mother again.

He didn’t ask. Not yet.

But Stephen knew that the thought would simmer in the Asgardian’s mind, turning over and over as he inspected it from all sides, weighing the risks and rewards. And one day, Stephen was certain, Loki would approach him and ask this favor of him.

He pulled at his restraints, testing the limits of his bonds. But his kidnappers seemed to be prepared for the superhuman strength of a werewolf, because the metal didn't budge. The only outcome of his struggle was the painful chafing of the rough edges against his wrists.

Tony leaned upright against a wall he found right in his back. He couldn't see how big the room he was in was. Or if there was anything else here besides him.

Or someone else.

No one had spoken to him when he had moved, although that was a clear indication that he was awake.

There was no discernible scent of any nearby person, but he could not shake the feeling that he was being monitored. There were most definitely cameras. He was too valuable a merchandise to be left unattended.

Tony hung his head low, between his arms resting on his drawn knees. He needed to conceal that he was talking to Jarvis, even if it was just two muttered words.

“Alert Stephen.”

He imagined he heard a soft beeping from his watch in response, a reassuring sound that reminded him he was not entirely alone in this situation.

From somewhere outside he heard noises. A lot of them. The clanging of reverberating metal echoed through the air, accompanied by the buzzing of heavy machinery and the intermittent whir of an electric screwdriver. These sounds were oddly familiar to him, and if he had to wager a guess, he would bet that there was a car repair shop or something similar nearby.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and someone entered. Tony's limited field of vision allowed him to see heavy boots approach, and before he could brace himself, his blindfold was yanked off. The Were had to squint against the sudden light, and for a few moments, he was blinded by bright spots dancing in his vision as his eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness.

When his sight finally cleared, he was met with the imposing figure of his kidnapper. He was tall, broad shoulders and had a scowling face and looked very much like a muscle henchman. Some of it was hidden under a rather ugly beard. Definitely not the right style for his features.

Without a word, the kidnapper released the chain from the floor, grabbing Tony roughly by the shoulder and yanking him to his feet. The sudden movement sent another jolt of pain through his wrists. Before he could gather his bearings, he was shoved toward the door, where a second henchman awaited him.

This one sported a bald head and carried a gun that was far too big for Tony’s comfort.

The werewolf wasn’t stupid; even if he managed to catch one of them off guard, the other would undoubtedly unleash a hail of bullets that would kill him in an instant.

The grip on his shoulder remained unyielding as he was propelled down a narrow hallway, flanked by these naturally intimidating figures.

They stepped into a large main hall that indeed resembled a car repair shop, but the atmosphere was far from the mundane. Instead of mechanics diligently working on vehicles, the scene was one of chaos and criminality. Cars were being disassembled with ruthless efficiency and their individual parts loaded into crates.

Tony suspected it wasn't the only merchandise being illegally shipped.

As he was pushed along, his eyes darted around the room, taking in the details. He suspected that the cars were not the only merchandise being illegally shipped from this place. He spotted a pallet of bagged white substances that certainly had nothing to do with cars.

He couldn't make out exactly what it was, as his guide pushed him along roughly.

Tony realized he needed to find a way out before he became just another victim of this operation.

His guide continued to shove him along roughly, and Tony struggled to maintain his composure. There was an area in the back where another eyelet was embedded in the floor, and he felt a sinking sensation as the chain of his shackles was fastened there once more. The chain was so short that it forced him to his knees, a position that felt both humiliating and precarious.

A new guy stepped in front of him, and this one didn't look like he was another henchman. He had that aura of smugness and authority about him that Tony knew from gangster bosses and CEOs. Same kind of people really.

Tony hated that his current position forced him to look up at the guy.

“Ah, there’s our guest.” The man pulled out his phone and pushed the camera right in Tony's face.

“See, he’s alive and well. Ain’t that right?” he told the camera and nudged Tony to make him speak up as well.

“Just peachy,” Tony growled. He wondered who would get the ransom video; because that was clearly what this was. If this was about money, it would probably be sent to SI. That meant Pepper would be alerted. She knew what to do. They installed protocols for this kind of event.

Tony just hoped Stephen would get to him before that.

“Oswin,” someone called out.

The boss – Oswin apparently – made a dismissive gesture. He took another video of Tony, this time without expecting any direct involvement on his part,

Tony didn’t even think of acknowledging him any further. He also made an effort to look annoyed rather than scared. No matter how he felt in this situation, he would give his kidnappers the satisfaction of being openly vulnerable; even though right now he was at their mercy.

“Get everything ready to be shipped overseas first thing tomorrow morning,” Oswin told the two guys that guarded Tony. The way he was smirking at Tony as he said those words, told the Were he would be part of the cargo.

That wasn’t good.

The men nodded and stepped away.

Oswin turned away, his demeanor shifting as he moved toward whatever task had summoned him earlier. He delegated responsibilities to his crew with an air of authority, meticulously overseeing the shipping details that would soon unfold.

If everything went according to his plan, he would effectively kill two birds with one stone: securing a hefty sum for Stark's transportation while simultaneously pocketing the ransom money which was just as high.

A grin spread across his face. That would add up to a tidy sum.

“Hey you, boy,” he called out, his gaze landing on a teenager who had recently joined his crew. “What’s your name again?”

“Kai…”

Kai was visibly uncomfortable, a fact that did not escape Oswin's notice. All he knew about the kid was that his cousin had dragged him into this world of crime and that he had recently dropped out of school. He certainly wasn’t the first young recruit to find himself entangled in Oswin's operations. Time would tell if Kai was cut from the right cloth for this kind of job.

“Kai, get those boxes over there to Colbert, alright?”

Kai looked to where Oswin pointed and nodded, relief washing over him at the prospect of being assigned a relatively easy task. The presence of the bound businessman had thrown him off course, but he was determined to put on a brave face and prove himself.

He set off to complete the task when Oswin's voice called out to him once more, halting him in his tracks.

“Hey Kai.” The boss waited until the teen faced him again, before he asked “You hungry, boy?”

Kai looked at him, uncertain what kind of answer was expected from him. “I guess?” he answered reluctantly.

“I'm ordering pizza.” Oswin declared, turning away as if the matter were settled. “Vance, Mike, do you want pizza?”

“Sure, Boss.” Judging by their voice, they were used to his antics and didn't even bat an eye when Oswin took his phone and called a local pizza place.

“... we're getting five large pizzas. Two pepperoni, three with extra cheese...” he paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he remembered something. “Colbert, are you still vegan?

“Yeah.”

Oswin turned back to the phone, his expression shifting to one of concentration. “Just two with extra cheese and one vegan pizza... yeah, mushrooms are fine... Great... Yes, thank you.” He put his phone back into his pocket and announced, “Pizza's arriving in an hour.”

A chorus of approval erupted from his crew, a brief moment of camaraderie amidst the tension of their current situation. As the excitement of the meal settled in, everyone returned to their tasks, the atmosphere lightening just a fraction.

Tony kept quiet and tried not to draw attention to himself. He just needed to wait for nightfall. Until Stephen arrived. He had to hold out that long.

He had no idea where he was, and the chances of escaping from here alone were relatively slim.

In the meantime, he secretly looked around, checking for exits, doors, and windows; searching for any potential escape routes.

The place smelled of oil, welding seams, and sweat – scents that Tony was familiar with from his lab. But there was nothing comforting about them here. Instead, they served as a stark reminder of the grim reality he found himself in. Additionally, there was the smell of tension, a palpable atmosphere that enveloped the room, emanating from people who knew they were doing something illegal. Although they felt safe at the moment, they couldn't shake off a certain unease, a collective anxiety that hung in the air like a thick fog.

Rain pelted against the window panes, creating a rhythmic backdrop that matched the pounding of Tony’s heart. It had become dark outside, and the light seemed to have dimmed indoors as well, casting long shadows that danced across the floor.

In the evening, only one half of the car shop was fully lit; the part that was actually worked in, bustling with activity and the sounds of machinery. Everything else in the back half was left in the dark: an unused lifting platform, stacks of tires, boxes of spare parts, tool trolleys…

One of the ceiling lights flickered irregularly, casting an unsettling glow. The fluorescent tube had to be replaced soon.

Then, there was a loud knock on the door next to the closed entrance gate, a sound that jolted Tony from his thoughts. He did his best to look not too expectantly in that direction.

“That must be the pizza guy. They were fast. Vance, go get it!” Oswin pulled a roll of banknotes from his pocket and counted out a few, which he gave to a mechanic.

Vance went to the door, but frowned when he opened it. “There’s no one,” he called up to his boss.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Vance stepped out, looking around. It was dark outside, but the streetlights on the other side of the vehicle park provided enough light to see that no one was around. There wasn't even a car on the street, an eerie emptiness that heightened the tension in the air. The cold wind whipped around him, and Vance felt a shiver down his spine. He blamed it on the rain.

“Maybe it was a prank.” Vance stepped back inside, closing the door.

“Hm, maybe.” Somehow Oswin wasn’t convinced. “Tell Mike and Ike to check it out; go on a patrol or whatever.”

He wasn’t taking any chances. Not when Tony fucking Stark was sitting under his roof.

Oswin walked around the cars, his boots echoing against the concrete floor as he approached the makeshift holding area. Yeah, the bastard was still there; still cuffed. The sight of Stark, with his disheveled hair and defiant expression, only fueled Oswin’s determination to keep a tight grip on the situation.

Suddenly, the cry of a guard pierced through the hall, a sound filled with alarm and confusion. At the same moment, the ceiling light at the back of the shop broke with a loud bang, showering the area with sparks that illuminated the darkness for a fleeting moment.

Alarmed, everyone looked up, instinctively reaching for some kind of weapon. Some had guns, others clutched crowbars, while a few wielded heavy wrenches, their faces a mix of fear and adrenaline.

The atmosphere shifted palpably, a collective tension hanging in the air as they peered into the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen.

The silence after the man’s scream was all the louder.

Oswin ordered two of his men to guard Stark again. He had no doubt that he was the target of whatever was going on here.

The men were less than enthusiastic about being put in the middle of the attention, but they made up for it by looking all the more grim.

The boss peered into the darkness, his instincts on high alert. He imagined he saw something moving in the shadows, a flicker of motion that sent a chill down his spine. Yet, when he aimed his weapon at it, it vanished, swallowed by the inky blackness.

Somehow the darkness seemed to get even thicker.

Out of nowhere, something came shooting out of the darkness close to the ground – a shadow that wrapped around the leg of one of the workers to Oswin's left. It yanked him off his feet with a yelp; the impact on the ground looked painful and the man lost his weapon. Before he could reach for it, he was pulled backwards into the darkness – his attempts to grab hold of something fruitless.

A muffled sound could be heard from the shadows, before the scream was abruptly silenced.

The remaining men exchanged terrified glances, their bravado crumbling as the reality of their situation set in. Panic began to ripple through the group.

Then there were noises on the ceiling, as if something skittered over the metal of the ventilation shaft. Something large.

“It's up there!” someone called out and several people started to shoot at the ceiling, without really having a target.

Chaos ensued. Bullets hit the ceiling and its fans with a loud crash, sending shards of metal raining down. Some bullets struck lamps, causing sparks to fly and plunging the room into an even deeper darkness. Other bullets ricocheted off the walls, their unpredictable trajectories creating a deadly game of chance, and came right back at the man who had fired them.

Someone else cried out as he too was pulled into the shadows.

Danger now seemed to threaten from everywhere.

“They've surrounded us!” someone yelled.

“Stay together!” Oswin told them. At this point he was shooting whatever he thought he saw moving in the shadows.

Kai, had hidden behind a car, and sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening. He didn't even try to fight, he just wanted to get out of this nightmare. In the semi-darkness he sneaked crouched down towards the next best exit, moving stealthily from car to car.

Suddenly, something shot past him, a blur of motion that sent a jolt of fear through his body. He winced instinctively and glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see someone - or something – chasing him. He quickly grabbed the next best tool from the ground beside him, a heavy wrench, clutching it tightly like a life-line. But there was no one behind him.

Kai turned back forward – and jerked back in shock as he saw a figure looming right in front of him. It was too dark to see more than the outline.

Panic surged through him, and he swung the crowbar in a desperate attempt to defend himself. But the figure moved with an unnatural grace, blocking his makeshift weapon with ease and twisting the wrench out of the boy's trembling hands as if it were a mere toy.

Kai caught a glimpse of the creature before him. Long, sharp nails glinted in the darkness, pale skin, and most terrifying of all, red eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his stomach churn. Nausea shot up Kai's throat as the horrifying realization dawned on him: a vampire.

He was going to die.

All of them would.

They would end up as a meal, a mere snack for this predatory beast. His nona had warned him not to get involved with Oswin's crew.

Tears welled in Kai's eyes. He should have listened to his nona.

The vampire opened his mouth – revealing polished and very deadly teeth – but instead of pouncing on Kai and ramming his teeth into the boy's throat, he spoke.

“Run.” The voice was sharp and deep, vibrating in Kai's bones. “Run and never come back.”

Without a moment's hesitation, the teen took to his heels, propelled by sheer instinct and the primal urge to survive. He bolted from the repair shop, sprinting down the streets as if the very hounds of hell were on his tail. His lungs burned with each desperate breath, and a stitch formed in his side, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The thought of the vampire’s red eyes haunted him, urging him to flee further into the night.

If only he survived, he would never not listen to his nona again.

Oswin grabbed Tony by his hair. The Were was the only one in the shop who had watched the situation go down wordlessly, more curious than afraid. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he was handled rather rudely.

Oswin was the last man of his crew left. Under the two guys he had assigned to guard Stark, glowing golden portals had opened, through which they had fallen with a scream and disappeared into the unknown

Tony clenched his teeth, as a gun was pointed at his head.

“Show yourself,” Oswin called out into the darkness. “Or I'm going to shoot him.”

The noises stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. Then, a figure stepped out of the shadows, dressed in blue robes with a red cloak billowing menacingly behind him. His red eyes were fixed on Oswin, burning with a fury that was palpable, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

There was no trace left of the human mask the sorcerer usually put on so very carefully; there only was raw, unfiltered rage.

A snarl revealed his fangs, sharp and glistening in the dim light. “Hurt him and I will end your pathetic life!” Stephen's voice was low and dangerous, a growl that resonated from deep within his chest, sending a shiver down even Tony's spine.

“I'll shoot him and then you, if you come any closer!” Oswin retorted, his bravado briefly faltering slightly as he pressed the barrel of his gun harder against Tony's temple, as if to underline his threat.

Tony tried to suppress a wince. “Careful there. My face is worth a million dollars.”

“Shut up or you won't have one any longer,” Oswin hissed, his eyes narrowing while he kept focused on the vampire, who stood poised and ready to spring into action.

Stephen growled again. But the vampire didn't move forward. He didn’t want to accidentally trigger Oswin’s finger, knowing that one wrong move could lead to irreversible consequences.

This wasn't the first time they were in this kind of situation. The parallels were not lost to him. Last time had been the day Tony learned about Stephen's dangerous secret: his true nature, he had hidden so well. Afraid of the reaction of his loved ones. Of their rejection.

Stephen had learned a lot since then.

“If you let me go now, you have a chance of surviving,” Tony told his captor. It was a lie. Stephen would never spare this guy.

Oswin ignored him. “This can go two ways,” he said to Stephen, trying to stay in control of the situation, even though it was slipping through his fingers – because damn, a vampire hadn't been part of the plan. “One: I shoot him and you. And maybe you'll kill me; either way, we all end up dead. Or two:-”

Before he could finish his thought, there was a sudden wschk sound as something flew from the side and struck the gun. A white net rope ensnared the weapon, pulling it with a swift schwiiirp out of Oswin’s hand and into the darkness, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Stephen had learned that he didn't need to deal with problems alone. That it was acceptable to ask for help.

The captor was too surprised to react.

Stephen was not.

In a blur of motion, faster than anyone could track, he was suddenly in front of Oswin, pushing him against the nearest wall with a force that left the man gasping. Stephen’s hand clamped around the man’s throat, lifting him off the ground.

“You’re going to pay for everything you did to him!” he hissed, his voice low and filled with a primal fury.

Stephen's face was an angry mask. He had learned to embrace the monster within him. Furious by seeing his mate in danger, his instinct to protect the Were took over. To eliminate the threat.

Oswin stammered something, but the words were barely coherent, a jumble of fear and desperation. He didn’t have enough air to form a proper sentence; the vampire’s grip on his throat was too tight, cutting off his breath. The man's eyes were big and scared.

In a swift, brutal motion, Stephen bared his teeth and sank them into the man’s throat. Blood spurted forth, warm and rich, as Oswin’s scream morphed into a strangled gurgle, a sound that echoed through the dimly lit shop. The vampire, driven by a primal urge, ripped into the man’s chest, tearing out his heart with a ferocity that left no room for mercy. It was a visceral act, just to make sure this man would never rise again.

The lifeless body fell to the ground.

Stephen stood over the fallen man, his fingers dripping with blood; he wiped it away in disgust. He would not drink this man's stinking blood.

“Stephen.”

Tony's voice cut through the tension like a warm ray of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky, drawing Stephen's attention.

He turned his head, and saw Peter at Tony’s side, hugging him firmly. The Were’s shackles were pulled out of the floor, giving him a bit more freedom in his movements. Torn apart with inhuman strength, judging by the bent up chain link. He still had his shackles around wrists.

Tony was holding Peter in a way that the boy wasn't able to see Stephen. More precisely what Stephen just did.

Peter was still so young. And even though he was in on the hunting gig, Tony tried to protect him.

Normally, Stephen did as well.

Tony looked at Stephen, his eyes gentle, almost calming, even though there was still adrenaline pumping through his veins from being held at gunpoint just moments ago. And he knew the vampire could hear his heart beat in his chest way too fast.

“Come here, Stephen.”

Tony didn't care that Stephen's eyes were still glowing red, a vivid reminder of the primal instincts that coursed through his veins. He was unfazed by the sharp fangs that protruded from Stephen's mouth, nor did he flinch at the sight of his robes, drenched in the blood of a man who Stephen had just killed with his bare hands.

They were past that.

Tony had seen Stephen at his worst before, and he had stayed nevertheless. In that moment, the vampire felt a profound sense of acceptance

He moved forward, embracing the grounding hug from Tony, feeling the warmth of his mate seep into his cold skin.

The Were buried his face in the crook of Stephen’s neck and Stephen heard him exhale. Tony’s grip was tight, and if the slight shake of his shoulders was any indication, he came down from his adrenaline high. Only now, with Stephen present, the Were allowed himself to let his vulnerability, the fears, show.

Tony was not one to shy away from danger; he held himself well in a fight. Yet, knowing that Stephen was there, unwavering and steadfast, provided a comfort that was grounding.

They hang to each other like a lifeline. Stephen murmured soothing words into Tony’s ear, reassuring him.

If anything should ever happen to his mate, if Tony was ever killed in the line of duty or by the hands of an enemy, the world would be in a dangerous place. Because there wouldn't be any reason left for Stephen to hold back.

Peter wrapped his arms around Stephen as well. Their makeshift little family was back together.

Okay, maybe there would be one other reason left, the vampire conceded, as he inhaled the scents of his loved ones. He nuzzled his face into Tony's hair. The comforting scent of his mate enveloped him, slowly coaxing him out of the fight-or-flight mode that had consumed him moments before. The primal urge to lash out at anything that moved began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of safety and belonging.

Tony gave him the time he needed, didn't rush him. He just held him.

Eventually, Stephen leaned out of the embrace, his fingers trembling slightly as he cradled Tony's face, examining him with what Tony affectionately referred to as his doctor-eyes.

“I'm fine,” the Were reassured him. “Thanks to our ninja-spider.”

Peter, who had been quietly observing the exchange, took that as his cue to rejoin the conversation. “Doctor Strange told me to stay in the shadows for the element of surprise,” he rambled.

Tony smiled at him, his heart swelling with pride. “And you did great. Everyone was very surprised. I sure was.”

Peter beamed right back at him, happy to be helpful.

However, Stephen remained focused, his protective instincts kicking in. He would only believe that Tony was truly unscathed when he could see it with his own eyes. As he scrutinized his mate, he noticed bruises and cuts peppering Tony's skin, remnants of the rough treatment he had endured during the kidnapping. These injuries were not unusual for someone who had faced such peril, but they still ignited a fierce protectiveness within Stephen.

Taking Tony's hand in his own, Stephen murmured a quick incantation, and with a flick of his wrist, the shackles fell away from Tony's wrists, landing on the floor with a resounding thud.

There were deeper bruises in their places; boring witness to rough treatment during the kidnapping. Stephen lifted Tony's hands up to his lips and kissed his bruised pulse point.

It was the same place he sometimes drank from. Even though the gesture now had nothing to do with that. It was still tender. He felt the steady rhythm of Tony's heartbeat beneath the sun-kissed skin, a silent affirmation that his mate was alive and safe, speaking to him in a language with no words.

“You need to be more careful,” he told Tony.

The Were sighed. “Hey, it's not my fault. They-”

He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. The three of them froze, looking at it. Stephen was sure they had gotten all the bad guys. Most of them dangled from the ceiling, wrapped in Peter's web fluid.

Peter raised his nose, sniffing. “It's pizza!” he announced. His senses rivaled Tony's. And now he was looking at his mentor with big, hopeful eyes. “Can we get it?”

The teenager was always hungry; his metabolism running higher than a regular human being's.

Tony patted his pockets, a frown creasing his brow. “I'm not sure where they put my wallet,” he admitted, even though he would welcome a snack as well.

“I'll get it. My treat,” Stephen offered, much to everyone's surprise. He moved toward the door with a careful grace, his instincts on high alert as he assessed whether the delivery guy posed any potential threat after all.

“Do you even have money with you?” Tony asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Contrary to common belief, I do carry cash with me.” With a flick of his fingers, a few crisp dollar bills materialized in his hand, fluttering slightly as if caught in an unseen breeze.

Tony rolled his eyes, a fond chuckle escaping his lips. They fell into their usual bickering, which meant everything was well. “Using magic to retrieve money you keep in your drawer in the Sanctum does not count as 'carrying cash with you'.”

“Money is money.”

“Don't scare the delivery too much.”

Stephen rolled his eyes at him. "And what is it you're exactly expecting from me, Anthony?"

It was Tony's turn to roll his eyes, not expecting any of this conversation. He didn't feel ready for it, his head was swimming from the wine he'd drank and the long day he'd had. "It's Tony," he retorted. "And I was expecting a husband."

"You got one," Stephen told him. "At least on paper. I'm happy to do the public service with you to show the people unity but come on, let's not kid ourselves. You didn't want me and I certainly didn't want you."

"Have someone else in mind?" Tony replied dryly.

"No," Stephen shook his head. "But I'd have preferred to make my own decision on who I'm supposed to live the rest of my life with."

Tony snorted at the idea, it was preposterous and Stephen, as a prince, understood that well enough. Royalty didn't choose who they could marry.

"Welcome to the real world," Tony replied with a laugh. "Maybe you spent too much time with your magic and not enough figuring out just what life has set out for us. You know what this alliance will do for both our kingdoms, or do you consider yourself more important than your own people?"

Stephen was the best example of those kinds of Vamps.

Well, Stephen was a mediocre example because he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and thus did not represent the norm.

But in his work he distinguished between dangerous and harmless vampires. Just as the Avengers should do it.

Albeit they were a long way from it.

Stark entered the conference room, carrying a mug that held probably an unhealthy ratio of coffee to liquid. He dropped into the chair right next to Stephen.

Tony was the only other person in the room who knew Stephen's secret. He had found out by accident; a mission gone bad. Although it had probably been inevitable, considering how they had circled around each other.

Tony threw a wink at him and Stephen scoffed affectionately. Tony knew Stephen wasn’t a fan of pda – at least outside of what he considered family – and thankfully the werewolf kept his hands to himself.

Clint was the last one to arrive; also with a coffee in his hands. He slid into a seat in the back and Rogers started the meeting.

Stephen listened only with one ear. If he was honest, he was just here to show some Sorcerer-Avengers alliance. And because he got tired of the Avengers asking him to join.

Bored, his eyes wandered to the big panorama window. They were on the east side of the tower and since it was late afternoon there was no direct sunlight coming in. Tony had installed UV filtering windows in the whole tower anyway, so that Stephen could move freely within it at any time of day or night, without worrying about getting burned.

“… they reported traces of vampires in Middlesex, New Jersey.” The map of a neighborhood near the sea could be seen on the large screen on the wall. "So far it's been narrowed down to this area. We'll look into it. Get ready to strike soon."

Stephen's jaw tightened when Rogers circled a specific block in South Amboy. He had meant to stay in the background and not attract attention. But if they keep following that specific lead, innocent people might get hurt.

Given two choices, Stephen always chose the one that protected others; instead of himself. That was why he spoke up.

“Actually, the Vamps in that area aren’t dangerous. Quite the opposite: they proved to be useful in providing valuable information on illegal cargo several times.”

All heads turned to him, surprised – even Tony, although for a different reason.

“Vampires are always dangerous,” Natasha chimed in. Her eyes were as sharp as her facial features. Stephen was pretty sure there was some fae somewhere in her blood line. It would explain so much about her.

The sorcerer gritted his teeth. They didn’t know this was a sensitive topic to him. A very personal one. He refused to back down.

“Not all vampires are mindless beasts. I’ve talked to several individuals who are actually very pleasant to be around. And they don’t kill humans for blood.”

“It’s true,” Tony added and Stephen's eyes shot over to him. Of course Tony backed his partner up.

His support seemed to help Stephen's case, because Rogers gave in. “Alright. But we will keep an eye on it.”

Stephen just nodded.

In a subtle gesture Tony put his hand on Stephen's leg, calming him. It wasn’t really necessary, but it was the thought that counted.

Self-preservation hindered Stephen from revealing more in front of the team. He decided to warn his contacts in New Jersey anyway.

The rest of the meeting he leaned back, listening in silence.

Tony didn’t move his hand away the whole time.

2

The wooden stake to his chest was a surprise. It had come out of nowhere. An improvised weapon, pulled from the rubble of the construction site where they were fighting.

White-hot searing shards of pain erupted from the wound.

Stephen hissed in agony. He managed to whirl a spell at the attacker, but the damage was done. He staggered sideways.

“Doctor Strange!” Peter rushed to his aid.

It had been movie night and he, Tony and Peter had been comfortable on the couch when Jarvis had informed them about the attack. Some other Avengers – who had also got the call – had joined the fight.

Stephen was bent over kneeling, trying to regain control over the pain, when the boy crowded his personal space.

“Are you okay?” Peter, who had no problem facing scary monsters, was overwhelmed by the situation. He had no idea what he could do to help Strange - and the fact that the vampire didn't respond only increased his panic.

“Are you going to die?” Peter’s worried face was hidden under his mask but his voice was breaking. A wooden stake to the heart was one of the big myths about killing a vampire.

Fortunately, a wrong one.

“No,” Stephen pressed between his teeth. And then a not very convincing, “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam landed beside them. His wings retreated into the pack on his back as soon as his feet touched the ground. “Shit, doc. Paramedics are on their way.”

Stephen wouldn’t wait for them.

“I need you to pull it out.” The sorcerer gestured to the stake. He didn’t want to burden Peter with the task. And he couldn't do it on his own; he needed all his strength to hold back his teeth from kicking out. It was a shock reaction of his body to defend itself.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “That looks nasty.”

It probably did. More so because the Avengers thought he was a regular human being. He was probably wondering how Stephen was still standing on his feet.

“I’m a doctor. And I have magic. I will heal in no time.” Stephen’s voice was pressed. Just because he was a vampire didn’t mean he wasn’t suffering. He was indeed in a lot of pain.

Finally, Sam stopped protesting. Instead, he put his hand around the stake; and pulled.

Stephen's lips tightened, wrinkles forming where none existed before. His breath seized – even though a vampire didn’t have to breathe at all. But it helped with the pain. At least that was what he told himself.

Stephen managed to cast a spell that mended his robes, concealing the wound from sight. His vampire powers would take care of that one. He just needed some rest and a blood bag from his refrigerator.

As soon as Sam got the wooden stake out completely, he threw it away in disgust. It was drenched in blood and other liquids the Avenger didn’t want to think about too closely.

There was an angry growl approaching them fast.

Oh yeah, now Sam had to calm down a concerned and very feral lover, who had probably smelled the sorcerer’s blood on the other side of the battlefield, as well as heard his cry of pain.

3

Stephen avoided going outside during the day. Understandably, since it would literally kill him – if he didn’t take precautions. Usually, there was no reason for him to hit the streets in broad daylight anyway.

Usually.

But this was a magic-related emergency right in the middle of bustling central New York, and Wong wasn’t currently available. Which was why Stephen was here, wearing several protection spells so the sun wouldn't burn him to a crisp immediately. The cloak rested on his shoulders, expanding his collar to a full hood to provide extra protection.

The glowing box that hovered six feet in the air in Central Park better be worth this.

Tony didn’t leave his side. Ever since the incident in Australia, this was a sensitive topic between them and the werewolf acted overly protective. Stephen didn’t argue with him. He had learned his lesson. He did accept Tony’s sunglasses though.

“For your eyes,” the Were muttered.

Stephen wasn’t sure if it was meant to protect them, or if they currently betrayed his true nature by turning into a bright shade of red. So he hid them behind the tinted glasses.

It was late in the morning, not yet noon, and the day not too warm. He could work with that; as long as his time outside was kept short. Despite all precautions, he felt a headache approaching.

“Thank you for coming by,” Natasha greeted them, approaching from the side. She and Clint had been the first ones to the scene. But as soon as they had seen that flying box, they had called the sorcerer.

Stephen turned his head to her, shielding his face from the sun with his hand. Even with the sunglasses it felt too bright. And maybe he imagined it, but his skin felt itchy.

Natasha took in the unfamiliar style of the Cloak of Levitation, and the accessory that obviously belonged to Tony. As well as his defensive posture. “Are you alright, doctor?”

Stephen wasn’t surprised she noticed something. She was very observant.

Before Stephen could open his mouth, Tony chimed in, chuckling. “You see, our wizard here has a bit of a hangover. It got late yesterday and we may have opened one bottle of wine too many.” He looked at Stephen with mischief dancing in his eyes, “Next time you should stick to grape juice.”

The vampire didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; it was written on his face that he was not impressed by those words – even with half of it hidden.

When Stephen didn’t object – and really, why should he? This was the perfect excuse – Tony grinned broadly and bumped his shoulder with Natasha. “We should avoid loud noises and bright light,” he stage-whispered, prompting her to follow him towards the weird magic object – and away from Stephen.

4

Bruce opened the door to the supply room – and stopped right in his tracks. “Oh… eh, I’m… I’m sorry, guys…”

He had clearly caught Tony and Stephen in flagranti. Stephen had pushed Tony against the shelf in the back, and was currently working on the soft skin of his neck, right between his ear and his shoulder. His back was to the door and he stills as soon as he heard it open. But he didn’t turn around nor did he make any kind of move.

Tony had his head tilted sideways to give him more room. His hands were on Stephen's shoulders, grasping the fabric of his shirt, while his legs were wrapped around the sorcerer’s hips.

He clearly enjoyed what they were doing very much. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes dark, when he locked them with Bruce.

Tony was slow to react. “Oh… hi, Brucie…” He smiled lazily.

There was a low growl in the room; surprisingly it didn’t come from the werewolf.

“You should leave,” Tony still hazily smiled. “Room’s occupied”

“Yes..sorry…” Bruce shuffled away, his head red by embarrassment.

The haze on his brain lifted enough to ask Jarvis, “What was that about, J?”

“I apologize, Sir. This room has no form of locking mechanism.”

That was something Tony should change. He made a mental note to add a lock to every single door in the compound.

The thought was forgotten in an instant when Stephen started to lick over where he had just bitten Tony. It was to close the wound; and to get Tony’s attention back.

The engineer shifted his focus back on the vampire. He rocked his hips against Stephen’s and elicited another growl from him, this time more needy.

5

Stephen was tired. Not ‘I need to go to sleep because he was a regular living being’-tired. No, vampires were physically and mentally not able to sleep; even if they wanted to. They were undead. And while the dead slept permanently, the undead never did.

This could be exhausting in its own way.

When he joined the Mystic Arts, Stephen learned to meditate, which was an effective way to shut off his mind; at least for a while.

Stephen had been gone from this dimension for a few days and now he craved a drink, a quiet and dark room, and the scent of Tony. Preferably a combination of all three things together.

He opened a portal straight into Tony’s bedroom.

Of course he didn’t find Tony there. The Were was barely in his own bed when Stephen was present. Without him, he probably barely walked in here at all. Plus, the sun had already risen.

Stephen went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Tony always had fresh blood for him available - packed into innocent looking, unlabeled boxes. It made sense; this was Tony’s private penthouse, but he often had guests over; Avengers coming upstairs. Stephen wouldn't want them to ask unwelcome questions.

He took a box and a glass – he refused to stick a straw into it. It would look too much like a juice box and Stephen just knew Tony would make a joke about that.

Instead he poured the red liquid into a wine glass. It was easier for him to hold it with the stem placed between his digits to prevent it from falling.

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?”

“In his laboratory, Doctor Strange.”

The Vamp opened another portal with the intention to at least steal a kiss from his partner, before he retired for the day. He changed his robes into something comfortable while walking through.

“… can you make one that ticks like a bomb, but instead of exploding there will be a small banner popping out that says ‘boom’. And then it will explode… oh, hey doc.”

Stephen realized too late that Tony wasn’t alone. Clint was standing next to his desk, both men leaning over schematics for what seemed to be trick arrows.

Walking up to his partner, Stephen took a sip from his drink.

Clint’s eyes followed the movement of his glass. “Is that red wine?”

Stephen paused, looking down at the red liquid. He was lucky Clint was human and couldn't smell blood over that distance.

He licked over his lips and noticed Tony was watching their interaction rather amused.

“Is that a problem?” he answered with a counter question.

Clint just shrugged. He certainly didn’t judge him, even though it was barely 10 a.m. in the morning.

+1

Stephen was in Kamar-Taj when he got the call from Tony.

“Poison Ivy is attacking Washington DC. We could use some backup.”

Stephen frowned and glanced at his phone. It was early in the morning, which meant it was pretty late on the East Coast.

“Really?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I would also rather work in the lab right now. You coming?”

"Shields are at fifty-seven percent," Jarvis interjects. There was an explosion somewhere in the distance on their side.

"No pressure," Tony reassured either Stephen or himself, the Vamp wasn’t sure.

“Yes, just send me a-”, his phone chimed when he got a message, “…photo.”

“See you on the other side.”

Tony hung up and Stephen opened the photo. It showed a street lamp that was overgrown with vines – just like the sidewalk in the background. Everything was a bit blurry but good enough for Stephen’s magic to work. He opened a portal and with one step he was standing on the other side of the world.

There was chaos in the streets. In the dead of night, they were filled with a sense of urgent as people ran frantically in all directions. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, adding to the cacophony of fear and confusion.

Stephen detected the general scent of panic in the air; it smelled sour and sharp with a hint of uncertainness.

Suddenly the asphalt cracked open and spiky vines shot high into the air. They chased Peter, who was swinging between the tall buildings.

Stephen summoned sharp and glowing discs and cut the stem. The heavy upper part fell – as the cloak of levitation pulled Stephen into safety – and hit the ground with a loud thud. The lower half of the tendrils, however, continued to move; like cut tentacles, but more angry now. Stephen cut them again, this time right above the ground.

The Iron Man suit stopped next to him midair, opening the face plate. “Thanks for joining. We’re currently dealing with Rose and Thorn, but her plant pets have a mind of their own and they cover a lot of ground here; destroying streets and buildings.”

“They’re Solanaceae.” At Tony's quizzical look, Stephen added, “Nightshades. They probably get stronger during the night.”

“A cousin of yours?”

“Funny,” the Vamp dead-panned. “I’ll do what I can, but our best bet is probably a giant flamethrower.” Fire killed almost everything efficiently, plants as well as vampires.

“Since when do you have a doctorate in botany? I’ll see if I can get propane from somewhere. Might take a while though.”

“Great. In the meantime, I'll take care of the weeds.”

They parted ways. Tony flew off while Stephen moved right next to where more plants breached through the street. He cut them as low as he could reach with his magic even though he knew it would be more effective to get rid of the roots.

At the same time that was more difficult, especially since he didn’t know how deep they went, or in what way they were connected to each other.

The more he attacked them, the more ferocious they got. The plants seemed almost sentient, sensing where he was, even though he remained mostly in the air and didn’t so much as touch the ground with his feet.

It made Stephen hesitate, wondering what exactly he was facing. It wasn’t magic; not really. Maybe – and that was a big maybe – he could find a way to communicate with them and make them leave.

The asphalt cracked in several places right below Stephen. The Cloak of Levitation pulled him back, but the plants seemed to focus solely on the sorcerer. They hit him before he could throw up a defense spell.

Three big branches pierced his torso and Stephen let out a cry, low and anguished that carried through the streets.

The cloak billowed, trying to pull him free. The movement only made it worse.

Another vine yanked the cloak off him. Someone called out for Stephen, but the noise was muffled in his ears.

The vines hurled him around and then threw him through the air. His loyal cloak zipped after him but wasn’t fast enough to catch him before he hit the pavement and tumbled over several times.

Ironically, the plants softened his fall – albeit only insignificantly.

Stephen gasped for air; and immediately choked on liquid. His lung must have been pierced and blood was pooling in it. He stopped breathing to avoid choking.

He propped himself up on his elbows – his hands were shaking badly – before he rolled onto his side. Deep in his stomach, a dark purple orb of anguish seemed to throb with his pulse. His vision was hazy and tinted red. The feeling of bleeding out was all-consuming.

“Stephen!”

The plants around him were burned away by a modified blast as Tony landed at his side. The werewolf crouched down to examine his partner. The suit retreated from his hands and his head. He wanted nothing more than to cradle the man in his arms, but the presence of the enemy was too close.

“Shit, Stephen, talk to me.”

“’m fine,” was what Stephen wanted to say. All that got out was a gurgling noise. Blood ran down his chin. The vampire turned his head and spat it out, even though it sent vile warnings throughout his innards.

He heard the voice of Jarvis, running a diagnostic scan of him: “…as well as his lung and abdomen. He is experiencing heavy blood loss. Immediate intervention is advised.”

That sounded about right.

“You need blood,” Tony observed what Stephen had already concluded as well. He was losing the vital liquid too fast. His throat felt dry, even though he was still choking. And he didn’t have the strength to check but he knew his fingers were sharp claws and his teeth on display. It was his body urging him to hunt.

For now he was still in control of his mind, yet he had to act fast. Or he would turn into a wild beast that would prioritize to ensure his survival.

Tony helped Stephen sit up. He groaned in displeasure as the pain intensified. Then he grunted with horror as Tony took off one arm part of his armor.

“What…you doin’?” he muttered, barely intelligible.

“I told you: you need blood. Don’t argue about it. Not now.” Not while they were in the midst of an emergency. Not again.

Stephen looked at him, shaking his head. He had already drunk from Tony twice this week. It had only been small amounts, but the body of the werewolf needed time to replenish its blood. With all his injuries, Stephen would need more than Tony had to give. Stephen might feel better, but Tony would die of blood loss.

The vampire didn’t have breath left to articulate that; except he was sure that the engineer must have come to the same conclusion.

Tony was also very aware of Stephen's stubbornness regarding Tony’s health.

“..home…” Stephen managed to get out.

There were plenty of blood bags in the fridge. His hand moved to his belt, where his Slingring was normally stored – and he touched right into a deep wound.

The Vamp hissed in pain and Tony saw the blood running down shaking fingers. Stephen knew he barely had the strength to move, much less to open a portal.

His senses grew stronger as he became more aware of possible food sources around them. Surprisingly, he also got calmer. Or maybe his body just got ready to attack at the earliest convenience.

Suddenly he was glad he was too weak to move a lot.

Tony was kneeling behind him, to support his back and stop him from toppling over; his mind running a million thoughts and calculating all options.

If not from him, Stephen could drink blood from someone else. Tony surely could find someone in this city, even though the area was evacuated. He would knock them out personally if necessary.

Stephen would never drink without consent. And animal blood wasn’t sufficient for this situation; it had to be human blood. Or at least humanoid.

A hospital!

They had blood bags in stock. Even though marching in and demanding them would raise questions. Tony would have to be careful not to reveal Stephen's nature.

On the other hand, if he waited too long, Stephen's nature would reveal on its own; when he went feral to get what his body needed.

Suddenly his trail of thoughts was interrupted by another voice.

“What’s your status?”

Rogers was jogging over to them. Maybe he had smelled the lots of blood Stephen was losing. Or he got called on the scene because Tony had ignored his comm for the past however many minutes – right after he had screamed for Stephen.

The sorcerer was trying to make his bleeding, lanky body smaller and shielded away from the Avenger. Showing his vampire features to Captain America – a very famous vampire hunter – would start a whole other kind of mess.

Tony helped him by subtly moving his armored body between them. “The wizard is out,” he explained dismissively. “I have to get him home immediately.”

This wasn’t really his plan; they were too far from New York and Stephen too weak. It was a good enough excuse though. And it gave Tony an idea: if Stephen wore the armor it would – hopefully – protect him; and those around him. It would leave Tony vulnerable in the still ongoing fight, but he would manage.

He glanced to the side where Rogers was still standing, analyzing Stephen's condition. Tony opened his mouth to throw a quip at him, but Steve beat him to it.

“What if he takes my blood?”

“What?” Tony stared at him. He was sure he misheard. Even Stephen stilled in his arms.

Rogers tilted his head. “If your werewolf blood is fine, mine should be as well.” At Tony's distrustful look, he adds, “You forget I’ve got super hearing. And the tells were rather obvious. Now,” he took the last steps towards them slowly, as if he was approaching a wild animal. “I believe we don’t have much time. I give him my permission to take the blood I can spare.”

Tony’s posture became defensive. It was subconscious, his mind still screaming: protect mate!

“Why?” he asked.

“We are a team, Tony”, Rogers said as if that were a very obvious reason. It probably was – under normal circumstances. Then Rogers spoke to Stephen directly. “And you are still Doctor Stephen Strange, even if you’re a vampire.”

Tony was still hesitant, and that said a lot about his experience with people he had trusted and who had then stabbed him in the back. Some even literally.

But then he felt Stephen weakly nudging him and he turned his attention back to the sorcerer. Stephen needed blood now; they would do the talking later. He weakly beckoned Steve to come closer.

The ground shook again, however, nothing broke through it - for now.

Rogers put his finger to his ear and spoke over the comm to the team. “We need some brief cover. South side.”

Stephen didn’t see who else moved in their direction; his focus was on the Avenger in front of him. Tony stayed with him and Stephen trusted him – as well as Rogers – to stop him should he take too much.

Rogers crouched down as well and looked at them, unsure. “So, how do we do this?”

“Your wrist.” Tony nodded towards it.

Rogers pulled the tight sleeve of his suit up and held it out to the vampire. If he had any second thoughts, he masked them well.

Stephen’s trembling hands wrapped around the warm skin. He felt life pulsing in the veins, a lot of it. Water pooled in his mouth; or perhaps it was blood. He wasn’t sure.

Instead of feasting on his meal immediately, he looked up at Rogers, his red eyes asking for permission. Steve granted it – again; this time with a simple nod.

Stephen bared his teeth and pierced the skin with them. On impact, a sound escaped Rogers, rather surprised than in pain – in fact it didn’t hurt more than a needle prick. And then the pain was completely gone. Everything was fine. Maybe he even was a bit too calm about the situation; the vampire drinking from him and the fight around them.

He had heard about a vampire’s thrall – but he still felt in control. A bit light-headed, sure. But not alarmingly so.

Roger’s eyes met Tony’s, who watched him with alert eyes.

After a while, Stephen let go of him and leaned back. He looked instantly better. He was still bleeding but he no longer made that gurgling sound with every breath. His wounds also seemed to be slowly closing. Or at least the bleeding had stopped.

He moved to stand up, but Tony held him back, gently.

“Take it easy.”

And Rogers added, “We got you, doctor.”

Bonus:

“What did he taste like?” Tony asked way too casual and out of context.

Stephen didn't have to ask who he meant. There weren't many people he had drunk directly from recently. "Artificial. Like a snack with a weird combination of flavors.” Looking at the Were he found him way too smug about his answer. “Are you jealous?”

Tony shrugged, ducking his head. It was a tell; he couldn't fool Stephen. “It was just weird seeing you drinking from someone else. It’s an intimate thing. At least it always feels this way for me.”

Because every time Stephen drank from the Were it almost exclusively led to sex.

Stephen pulled him into his arms. “Only because we make it intimate.” He kissed his temples. “What you and I have is special, Tony.”

That was until a young doctor approached him at the bar and flirted with him bluntly. Tony was flattered – still he didn’t intend to make it too easy for the man. No matter how handsome he was.

“So you’re some kind of surgeon prodigy? That don’t impress me much.”

“Shania Twain, 1997. Although loosely interpreted.”

Tony didn’t indicate with any reaction if he had actually planned to make it sound like those lyrics. But he did gesture to the barkeeper to bring a drink for Strange; and that had to mean something.

It gave Strange a boost of confidence. “I will have you impressed by the end of the night.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement. He had wanted to pick apart Tony Stark’s brain ever since he specialized in neurology. And now he had the chance.

Through the years, you've never let me down You've turned my life around The sweetest days I've found, I've found with you Through the year, I've never been afraid I've loved the life we've made And I'm so glad I've stayed right here with you Through the years

“Why do you have to go to Afghanistan for that demonstration?” Stephen asked – again. “Rhodey said it would be perfectly fine to do it in Nevada.”

Of course Rhodey – that traitor – had told him that. The two had joined forces against him on this issue.

“Because I can,” he replied – again. “It’s called customer service.”

Stephen looked away. “I think it’s the worst idea you ever had and that you are an idiot for doing this.”

Tony saw it in Stephen's face that he wasn’t happy about his answer. They had already argued so much about this, and Tony was tired of it.

What Stephen and he had wasn’t a relationship. Not really. Both had agreed on that. And this was part of why.

“Thanks for establishing that. You’re welcome to leave anytime.” Like everyone else did who was fed up with Tony. There always came the point when people no longer tolerated his bullshit.

Stephen’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you go that easily.” He was neither impressed by his words nor his behavior.

Tony let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. He preferred arguing to Stephen walking out of him.

I can't remember what I used to do Who I trusted, whom I listened to before I swear, you've taught me everything I know Can't imagine needing someone so But through the years it seems to me I need you more and more

Tony was standing in Stephen's apartment. It felt familiar yet odd. Things were still in the same place as before he had left, but something seemed to have changed. He was exhausted by the past month he had lived in that hidden cave.

It took Tony far too long to realize what that was: there was no trace of him in the apartment anymore. Before there had been small items scattered all around: a book, tablets, clothes… it was all gone. And Tony didn’t know what that meant. He had been gone for months and he didn’t know if Stephen had moved on in the meantime.

Tony felt vulnerable because maybe for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to say. He couldn't predict Stephen's reaction.

“So you got kidnapped in Afghanistan. That don’t impress me much,” Stephen finally said in his best ‘I told you not to go’ voice.

Tony smiled, still tired, as a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Through the years, through all the good and bad I knew how much we had I've always been so glad to be with you Through the years, it's better every day You've kissed my tears away As long as it's okay, I'll stay with you Through the years

“It’s going to be alright.”

Tony meant it, but for Stephen it was a lie. He didn’t see how he could ever be alright again. He was ruined. He had lost his hands – the single most important part of him.

“Spare your breath,” he hissed coldly. He didn’t want to hear Tony’s words of comfort. They meant nothing to Stephen.

Tony sighed, his eyes on the golden ring on the table next to his husband's hospital bed. Stephen wasn’t able to wear it, his hands were still bandaged. Maybe he would never be able to wear it again. Even without the promise Tony had made on the day he had given the ring to Stephen, he wouldn’t waltz out just like that.

“Nice try. But I won’t let you go that easily.”

Through the years, when everything went wrong Together we were strong I know that I belonged right here with you Through the years, I never had a doubt We'd always work things out I've learned what love's about, by loving you Through the years

Tony took in his husband's appearance; the goatee, the blue robes, and the subtle muscles under them. He looked good – far better than the day Stephen had run away to Nepal on a whim. It seemed like he found what he had been looking for and Tony was glad to see him in a better place.

Still, it didn’t hurt to grill him a little more; just as a revenge for the radio silence.

Tony crossed his arms. “So you’re a wizard now? That don’t impress me much.”

Through the years, you've never let me down You've turned my life around The sweetest days I've found, I've found with you Through the years, it's better every day You've kissed my tears away As long as it's okay, I'll stay with you Through the years

They were on Titan and their chances to win looked rather slim. Still, there was hope; as long as they stuck together through it.

Tony stepped next to Stephen as they watched together Thanos arrival on that vast planet.

“So you’re that purple grape that gave me nightmares for years?” His nano-sunglasses were back on his nose for the sole purpose to look over their rim judgmentally. “That don’t impress me much.”

Tony took the elevator to the fifth floor. He knew the way to the surgeon’s floor by heart.

Curious glances still followed him – something that would never change no matter where he went. But he also got some friendly nods from members of the staff who were by now used to his visits. Tony returned them, even if the sunglasses on his nose hid his lack of interest.

Tony tolerated being here. But only because of one man.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to the office.

Halfway he heard the familiar deep voice as Stephen stepped out of it, talking to a nurse. When he noticed Tony his face lit up noticeably.

Tony smiled. This was what made it worth it to endure being in a hospital. And he liked having this effect on the doctor. It stirred something in his belly; feelings he wasn’t yet ready to deal with. So he shoved them deeper down.

The nurse seemed confused about his reaction and followed his gaze. As soon as her eyes landed on the approaching Tony, she understood.

“I’m here to pick you up for our meeting, Doctor Strange.” That was their code for a lunch date. Tony knew Stephen preferred to keep their relationship professional in front of co-workers and Tony respected that. Except in the presence of Christine, who called them out on their bullshit. And she often sided with Tony; one of the reasons he liked her so much.

Stephen handed the chart he was carrying to the nurse. “Take that to Doctor Robinson for the blood test.”

“Yes, Doctor Strange.” The nurse left, not without throwing an amused and knowing smile at Tony.

Only when she was gone Stephen spoke again, keeping his voice down. “A surgery came in an hour. A transfer from Huntington with a pituitary tumor. The transnasal transsphenoidal operation has to be done.“ It almost sounded like an apology – only that Stephen didn’t do apologies.

„We can go to Papa John’s down the street and you can take your book for the read up of the case with you. It will just be a quickie.” Tony winked at him. He knew any surgery that Stephen was involved with would take at least a few hours and Tony felt better knowing he had eaten beforehand.

Stephen scoffed because Tony had brought that innuendo into his workplace. A quick look around reassured him that no one was within earshot. He thought about the offer. “Alright, I’ll get my coat,” he then agreed.

Tony had already learned that Stephen had a hard time refusing Tony’s offers – as long as they were well-thought-out and convenient.

His cabin had air-conditioning and the sunlight was blocked out during the day. The nights were actually doable for Stephen to step out at this time of the year.

They were still figuring out a sleep schedule that worked for both of them. Vampires didn’t have to sleep per se and since Tony installed UV filtering windows in every single building he owned, Stephen was often found up and awake during the day.

As long as he stayed indoors, he was fine.

The wolf's keen senses detected the faintest of sounds, his ears twitching as he caught the distant rustling of leaves. For a moment he went absolutely still; and he waited.

A young stag stepped into his view, looking for water. It must have been separated from its herd; either because it had been careless or because it was just misfortunate.

For a normal wolf it would have been too big of a prey even at its young age, but for the Were – especially a strong one like Tony – it was a welcomed challenge. Plus, Tony was always one for going slightly over the top; especially when he intended to impress his mate.

The werewolf stalked its prey silently, taking advantage of the fact that the wind was coming from the opposite direction. The human part of Tony’s brain shut off and he relied solely on his senses; he was just a wolf on a hunt.

He waited for the right moment. Then, with lightning speed, the wolf surged forward towards his prey. The buck, startled by the sudden movement, bolted away, its hooves pounding against the soft earth.

The wolf gave chase, his relentless pursuit echoing through the silent forest. As the buck drew closer to a stream that flowed from the lake, the wolf's instincts kicked in. He veered sharply to the right, cutting off its quarry's escape route. With a desperate leap, the buck attempted to clear the water, but the wolf was too quick. He lunged at the buck's hind legs, his razor-sharp teeth sinking into the flesh.

The buck collapsed. It struggled, trying to get to its feet. There was a brief scuffle, which was finally ended by the wolf's strong jaw with a final bite to the stag's throat.

The Were waited briefly to see if the stag would just do so much as twitch; yet it remained dead.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the lake, the wolf dragged its prey back to the cabin, satisfied with the result of his hunt.

As soon as he stepped onto the front porch, Jarvis opened the door to Tony’s home. Home because of who he knew was waiting for him.

Tony dragged his prey straight into their shared bedroom, not minding the mess he was making along the way.

Stephen sat on the bed, legs crossed and his hands on his knees. He was meditating; the closest thing vampires had to sleeping. His mind had to be far away, since he didn't move despite Tony dropping the stag on the floor with a 'thunk'.

The sorcerer was just wearing a simple robe. The two of them had spent most of their time together in bed in the last days. And on the couch. And on the kitchen counter.

It was mostly Tony’s fault. Once in a while the Were felt this particular kind of restlessness. Like an itch at the back of his mind that took hold of his whole body.

Some people called it being in a rut, but society had put some stigma on that phrase. So people ceased to talk about it at all.

Tony climbed onto the bed, moving his snout into Stephen's face in demand for attention.

That got finally a reaction out of the vampire; he complained by letting out a grunt. Blinking, he buried his fingers into the soft fur.

“No dog drool in my face.”

Tony shifted back under the scarred fingers of his mate; each of his bones cracking roughly back into their place as if they had briefly forgotten they were part human.

He was left naked – clothes weren’t part of the shapeshifting.

Stephen noticed the blood on Tony's face. It wasn't unusual whenever the Were came back from hunting, but normally it wasn't as much - the scent of blood was way stronger than he was used to.

He didn't have much time to think about it though, because Tony claimed his mouth with a kiss. It was rough and sloppy. Stephen had the impression that Tony's brain hadn't quite switched over to human yet. The wolf was always a part of him; these past days it was just more evident.

Stephen licked the blood from Tony’s lips; then he continued on the chin, holding the Were’s face between his trembling hands.

Tony enjoyed the attention, yet his smile remained wolfish. He was hyper-focused on Stephen; he was still on a hunt.

“I brought you a snack,” Tony drawled, pulling away.

Stephen turned his head to look at the stag on the floor. Unimpressed by the mess, he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll never get those stains out of the carpet.”

“Really? I provide food, like the great mate that I am, and all you do is complain about unimportant stains?” Tony pushed the Vamp towards the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna call the carpet installer next week and rip it out. Now, drink.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, yet complied without another word. Graciously, he slid onto the carpet floor and eyed the animal closer, before they darted back to Tony. “This was a strong buck.”

Tony’s chest puffed up, recognizing the compliment. “It was.”

Only the best was good enough for Stephen. The Were continued to watch his every move, like the predator he was.

So was Stephen.

He lifted the buck's head and without breaking eye contact he sunk his teeth into its neck.

The blood was still warm and very sweet. Normally, a vampire needed humanoid blood to survive. But he had drunk from Tony yesterday; and the day before. They had to wait to repeat that or the Were would suffer from severe blood loss.

Animal blood was more like a dessert for vampires. Delicious, but Stephen couldn’t live solely on it. Plus, afterwards he always felt like he was drunk; or high on sugar. And while Tony found that fun to watch, it wasn’t advisable in Stephen’s line of work. So he usually avoided it unless he was on a getaway with Tony.

Stephen drank a decent amount from the stag, even though he wasn’t actually thirsty. Consuming blood of all kinds also had another side effect on vampires.

Tony pulled him back onto the bed and Stephen let go of the prey. He ended up under the Were.

They kissed again, this time more heated. Whenever he drank blood, his cheeks became rosy. It was fascinating to watch the color return to his skin.

Tony loved the ethereal beauty of his vampire mate. Especially under the silvery cloak of moonlight, when Stephen looked like a creature from another world.

But when he looked like this, when he almost looked alive, Tony had all the urge to wreck him.

His tongue traced lines over the vampire’s skin. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he purred, his voice a few octaves lower. A shiver ran down Stephen’s spine. “I’ll mark you as mine. There won’t be an inch of your skin that won’t feel my touch.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Only Tony knew how to make his words wash over Stephen like he was putting every single promise to work.

The Vamp’s pupils were blown, the animal blood already taking effect. He dug his fingers into Tony’s soft hair, sharp nails dragging over the scalp.

He let the Were manhandle him, let him take the lead; like he knew Tony wanted.

The Were removed the belt of the robe Stephen was still wearing and pushed it off his shoulders. The vampire didn’t see where on the floor his clothes ended up. Strong arms turned him onto his stomach and he propped up onto his knees and elbows.

Tony stayed behind him. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it against Stephen’s hole, then down towards his balls. He repeated this process multiple times, until he heard a stifled moan. He loved it when Stephen moaned; it was one of his favorite sounds.

He pressed his tongue flat against his hole and wiggled it back and forth.

“F-fuck, Tony…”

The Were smiled, his tongue not stopping the work, circling his rim again before it pushed into the heated center.

Tony groaned in arousal, his dick aching to get inside his mate. But not yet. He wanted to play with his prey.

He readjusted his grip and pulled Stephen's cheeks even wider, pressing a wet kiss onto the opening.

A gasp escapes Stephen’s, morphing into a deep moan as Tony sank his tongue fully inside him. He shook with arousal, biting his lips to keep his noises down as the Were began thrusting his tongue in and out of his ass.

It didn’t take long until Stephen met each thrust eagerly. “More… Tony. I need you. I need more of you.”

Tony had the wherewithal to pull away the slightest amount. His eyes transfixed on the glistening hole and the unbroken string of spit connecting them.

“Patience, Steph,” he said – low and husky – as if he didn’t have trouble restraining himself from devouring his mate right here and now. “I will fuck you. When I’m satisfied with how open you are, I will fuck you until I come inside you, and you’ll take it like a good little vampire without coming before I do.”

Stephen dropped his head onto the pillow. “I think you’re overestimating my stamina,” he whispered. He had kept up with the Were's appetite over the last few days, but each time he had become a little more desperate for his mate. And the animal blood in his veins did the rest to keep him on edge too soon.

Somehow, Tony’s touch was soft over his hip bones.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I’m overestimating your determination,” he whispered, climbing up Stephen’s body like a predator.

And fuck, fuck, he’s right. Stephen would hold out for him, even if he had to do it by sheer will.

“Yeah,” the vampire rasps. He shifted under Tony’s weight. “Yeah. Fuck, I will.”

Tony smiled, beautiful and wicked at once. He dipped down to kiss Stephen’s shoulder, all fangs and teeth. At the same time he dipped his finger inside the vampire.

Stephen squirmed, throwing his head back. His mouth was open but he didn’t dare to let out more than a strained noise; too afraid to come undone.

Tony showed mercy and didn’t go for his prostate immediately. Instead he pumped his finger – one, two times, before he added a second one. Then he pulled his fingers out and watched the rim suckle onto them, as if trying to keep them inside.

The Vamp whined at the loss until Tony was kissing his back, kissing him all the way up to his neck. He stopped there. “Ready?”

Stephen shivered. He turned his head and met Tony’s eyes. And he nodded.

“Ready.”

They moaned in unison as Tony sunk into him. His shaft pulsed and throbbed inside him, the burn of accommodation making Stephen go cross eyed, despite the preparation beforehand.

Tony smiled breathlessly into his neck, grabbing Stephen’s waist and using a bruising grip to grind his cock into him with deep, slow thrusts.

The Vamp’s hole felt like heaven around him.

“You’re doing so good, so good for me,” he murmured lowly in Stephen’s ear. “Look at you. Beautiful.”

Stephen moaned when Tony picked up pace.

“Gorgeous.”

Tony smiled ferally and Stephen could feel the moment the Were in Tony took over. The gentle thrusting was over, replaced by more frantic buckling of hips and a wet squelching that was loud and dirty against their panted breaths.

Stephen shuddered as claws traced over his shoulder blades and dug into the skin, not quite breaking it but offering a sharp pressure.

As Tony bucked into him with enough force to almost move the bed, Stephen felt his own cock leaking. He hung his head low between his shoulders, his entire body trembling, aching, burning, all for Tony.

Stephen’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, knowing his release was near, but wanting so badly for Tony to come first. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a sharp gasp escaped him.

Tony set a rapid pace, fucking deep and hard. He felt his balls slap against the vampire with every thrust, heavy with lust.

It’s pure instinct. He was fucking into Stephen hard and holding him down, pinning him onto the mattress. And then he was coming.

Tony felt his orgasm rip through him; he saw stars, shooting his load deep inside the vampire. He didn’t stop thrusting all the while, only slowed down a bit as watched his dick disappearing into Stephen again and again.

“You’re going to come for me?” Tony murmured, his hands still holding Stephen’s hips. He dipped down to run the flat of his tongue over the small space that connected the vampire’s neck and shoulder.

His cock pressed Stephen's prostate the same time he sunk down his teeth in a mating bite. Despite not being a werewolf, the Vamp shuddered all over, crying out helplessly.

Tony’s mouth didn’t relent, sucking on the skin until it was reddened and shiny with spit. Until Stephen’s spine bent inwards and he unraveled completely.

His orgasm hit with a jarring force and completely overwhelmed him. Tony rode the high with him, slowly coming down from his own until both of them stilled, panting heavily.

Tony kissed the reddened skin, more gently this time. He eventually rolled off Stephen and lowered himself down to his side, watching him.

Stephen’s smile was wide and hazy. Tony’s heart was practically soaring out of his chest looking at the disheveled dark-haired vampire. Nobody else got to see him like this. He was always surrounded by an air of properness and perfection.

But now, he looked like any mortal man. His cheeks still blushed, his lips were swollen and hair was falling in his face. He looked beautiful like this and Tony’s heart filled with pride, knowing that he did this to the vampire.

Tony moved towards him and Stephen welcomed him in his arms. The Were nestled into Stephen's chest, inhaling his scent that was mixed with his own. It was perfect.

He probably oozed happy pheromones, pestering the air with it. He didn’t care. Nor did Stephen, who kissed the top of the Were’s head.

They enjoyed each other’s company, catching their breaths, until Stephen's voice broke the silence. “You okay there?”

Normally, Tony barely shut up for five minutes. So the question was justified.

“More than okay,” Tony chuckled, his voice hoarse from exertion. “Are you?”

“Absolutely.” Stephen lazily played with a lock of Tony’s hair.

Tony still inquired. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“You could never. I’m a vampire, remember?”

“Exactly: you’re not a werewolf. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Stephen let out an amused huff, touched by the concern. They had talked about it before; Tony would have to do a lot more to hurt Stephen – and vice versa. He didn’t want to start that argument though, instead he started massaging Tony’s head, down to his neck.

Tony let out a content sigh and snuggled closer to his mate. “You’re the best fucking thing that happened to me.”

Stephen still had enough blood in his veins to blush. And wasn’t it ironic that – after all the sex they had had over the past few days – it was this simple statement just now that made his face turn a soft pink; as if he was a bashful young boy.

Maybe it was because he knew Tony didn’t use these words light-hearted.

“I love you too,” Stephen whispered into Tony’s hair and he felt the Were’s lips turn into a smile against his chest.

Then Stephen pushed him into his back and leaned over him, his grin all teeth. “In fact, let me show you how much.”

Tony chuckled. “Fuck yeah!”

_________