Work Text:
The Gift
Stephen Strange was in a Monday Mood. Nothing was right and everything rubbed him the wrong way. Getting up in the morning was the first mistake of the day, followed by getting dressed. He wanted to claw and hiss at just everything just because; he wanted to lie flat on his stomach for the entire day but was too restless to sit quiet for longer than five minutes. He was beginning to get on his own nerves before he had finished breakfast.
The adrenaline from the weekend with Tony had easily carried him through the week. He had a great time; Christine had generously and patiently let him bubble about his weekend in detail, except the intimate ones. But now, he had a dry stretch before him, and he felt oddly deflated.
In tune with his schedule, Tony had flown out to Bern on Friday. While he did send him several messages between his last preparations for the congress he did on flight and before going to sleep, they finally turned into a thin trickle. Tony would meet Banner in Bern, and he had a congress to do, so Stephen hadn't expected anything else. Still, he missed the steady flow of small talk and banter.
Stephen had parted from Christine early on Sunday afternoon, when a taxi picked her up to bring her to the airport. Ten day's further education at Richmond's VCU Medical Center. He didn't begrudge her in the slightest, on the contrary. Christine was a top class trauma surgeon, she absolutely deserved to be invited to one of the best hospitals in the entire US to impart her knowledge. He got a last text before she boarded the plane, and after that her messages became scarce, too. Christine had an old acquaintance from med school working at VCU, and after checking into the hotel, the two had met to spend the evening together. The last he got was a heart-shaped Good night sticker around 11 p.m. when he was asleep already.
The sorcerer had restlessly roamed the Sanctum after his return. He put a pile of books into the shelves, practiced spells and mudhras for an hour and darned a few things on his robes, something he hated even though he did it with magic which took only seconds. Finally he set out for a walk across Manhattan until his feet were sore and his legs ached. The flip side of having two love partners was being twice alone, he realized glumly somewhere on 6thAvenue.
After eating the lunch leftovers Christine had packed for him and a hot bath with lavender and valerian he was tired enough to turn in for an early night, but he didn't feel relaxed. He didn't exactly feel refreshed, either, when he woke up early, even though no bad dream had disturbed him. Still in bed, he send both Tony and Christine a morning greeting and wished them well for the day. After breakfast he got a Thank you and a kiss emoji back from Christine; on Tony's side was radio silence. None of this was surprising. It was just... He felt a little forgotten. Which was childish. Still. Just a little bleep that they remembered him, please? After last week's high he came down in a crash landing of emotional withdrawal symptoms.
He wouldn't get a fix in form of physical presence, either. On Friday, he had been notified that he had a chance of a retreat with two of the elder sorcerers at Kamar-taj, the best living masters of practical magic. Stephen had in fact waited for this opportunity for months. There was no way he would turn it down. The opportunity was way too valuable, and he looked forward to it. The rub was he would be away for a fortnight, leaving on coming Thursday. Meaning, he would be far away for another week when Tony touched down again next week's Wednesday and when Christine came home next week's Friday. Summary: He wouldn't see either of them for three weeks in total. In Tony's case probably even longer. They still had to schedule according to Christine's shift, then.
Stephen just wanted to throw a tantrum. He wanted to be maudlin and hug a pillow and sulk. He wanted to bounce through the sanctum, singing and whistling, filling every room with butterflies because there wasn't enough space in his stomach for them when he thought about Christine and Tony. He wanted to rip off somebody's head just because he would have to do with three weeks of pining. He had every reason to sulk. Stephen couldn't remember the last time he had been this off-kilter.
Later in the morning, Wong came over to research something in the Sanctum's library. After being irradiated with the entire mood spectrum Stephen had on offer, he taciturnly suggested Stephen to do some exercises to work it out of his system.
Huffing, Stephen agreed and decided to occupy the foyer rather than the meditation room. The vast space from the ground floor up to the roof allowed him to expand his magic more. Once Wong had settled into the library, Stephen magicked himself into his worn white novice robes and forced himself into a long sequence of Tai Chi like moves, conjuring and dissolving shields, Eldritch whips and every means of attack and defense he could think of, in a flow as uninterrupted as possible. Here and there, Levi helped as a sparring partner. The concentration Stephen needed slowly grounded him again. When the doorbell rang, he was so engrossed in his technique he nearly hurled an exploding ball of Eldritch power at the door, but redrew it quickly. The Sanctum did not alarm him of any danger outside, so Stephen pulled a towel out of thin air to dry his sweaty face while he went to answer the door.
To his surprise, a young man stood outside who was clearly a Stark Industries employee, in black, neatly pressed trousers and a white polo shirt with the red SI logo stitched onto the chest pocket. Next to him stood a big, sturdy cardboard box, thoroughly wrapped with red SI tape.
“Good morning, sir”, the young man greeted. “I have a delivery for Doctor Stephen Strange.”
“That's me”, Stephen said simply.
“Very good.” The courier picked up the parcel which was big but obviously not heavy. “I was instructed to hand this over with the best regards from Mr. Stark personally.”
Stephen was very thankful that he had some automated social interaction skills. “Thank you. Please return my greetings to Mr. Stark. Do I have to sign something?”
“No, sir, that would be all. Have a nice day!” With a nod, the courier was gone.
Stephen stepped back into the foyer while the Sanctum closed the door behind him. He stared at the parcel, too baffled to react somehow. A portal sparked next to him and Wong stepped through.
“How nice of Mr Stark”, he said. Stephen guessed that he had overheard the short exchange of words at the door, and if not, he could guess the origin of the parcel from the SI packaging. “What did he send you, a typewriter to upgrade your study to the next level of technology? Or his signed biography for you to drool over the pictures?”
Stephen decided not grace Wong's remark with an answer. Instead, he opted to just roll his eyes and ditch his fellow sorcerer. The Cloak flew him and the box up to the top floor and set him down underneath the skylight.
“Thanks, buddy”, Stephen murmured and strode right into his private study where he placed the parcel on the sofa and himself next to it. Levi slipped away to his desk and returned with a pair of scissors before Stephen fully realized he needed them. With a thankful nod at his relic, the sorcerer sliced through the red tape and folded the box open. The Cloak settled behind him. He chuckled when Levi brushed his ear peering curiously over his shoulder.
Whatever was inside the parcel was hidden under layers of matte gray silk paper, but right on top sat a box of Pantoufle's truffles, round with an image of Nara's famous Kôfukuji pagoda on the lid. There was also a sheet of expensive letter paper, folded once, and Stephen started there. It was a handwritten note from Tony, and Stephen noticed with a warm flutter in his stomach that he wrote it on his private stationery, not the company paper, even though the delivery was packed in SI material and came by a SI delivery. A detail, but still. Stephen read:
Stephen, my sweet sorcerer,
I will not see you for nearly a month which is a horribly long time. Call me egoistical and/or cheesy, but I want to be around you somehow, and therefore... Well, take a truffle and open the first package.
With a smile, Stephen opened the box from Pantoufle. A piece of paper stuck inside the lid explained the contents, a thoughtful detail Stephen appreciated much; he didn't have to turn the whole affair upside down to find out what was inside written on the underside of the box. Tony had gotten him a selection of various tea fillings. After admiring the chocolates in various flower shapes he picked a chrysanthemum with Chai caramel crunch and rice crispies – it was terrific – and continued unpacking.
Under the loose gray paper was more silk paper, pinstripe-patterned and white this time, neatly folded over and held in place with a golden foil sticker. Something dark laid underneath that brought out the pinstripe pattern perfectly. Stephen sat very still for a moment. He recognized both the wrapping and the company emblem on the sticker from his long gone days as a surgeon with a well-padded wallet. This came from one of New York's foremost tailors. The memory stirred some very mixed emotions, and the entire amount of unexpected – delivery/gift/content/recognition/nonicememory – threatened for a second to tip over into uneasiness rather than joyful surprise. Levi firmly rubbed his shoulders and Stephen shook off the awkward feeling.
Treating himself with another truffle – nougat and a layer of Assam jelly, ye Gods – Stephen carefully pulled the sticker off and folded the crinkling paper aside. Shimmering night blue and deep red silk came to light. Stephen touched it shyly with trembling fingers, then Levi poked him with a not so gentle hem, and he got up, took the fabric out and let it fall open. It was, as the sorcerer identified, a classic Chinese kimono. Nearly floor-long, cut along straight lines, with wide, flowing sleeves and a diagonal neckline, and obviously bespoke, given the manufacturer. This was not their usual product, that was certain. The plain blue silk was broadly hemmed in red silk brocade in which a phoenix pattern shimmered in gold, blue and turquoise threads. Stephen eyed it quietly. He was very aware that the tremble in his hands didn't come from his nerve damage alone. He absolutely needed a truffle to steady himself. Levi, aniticipating his need, held out the box to him, and Stephen dropped back onto the couch with a smile at his relic. He chose Matcha cream with soft plum pieces pickled in sweet sake – he didn't know taste buds could actually have sex. Well, he did now.
A matching sash cut from the red silk brocade to complete the garment still laid neatly folded on the white paper; Stephen took a moment to admire the intense color contrast before he carefully draped the sash onto the back of the couch. He spotted another letter underneath the wrapping paper and took it eagerly.
You like it?
“Of course I do!” Stephen exclaimed. Levi nodded.
I like to imagine you in that kimono (which I believe is called a Zhiju) in the sunlight under your Vishanti skylight or in the gardens of Kamar-Taj (given it has gardens) reading a book... If I cannot be there, feel me hug you through it.
No deeper study of traditional Chinese men's wear was accomplished here. I browsed the net for something pretty and then I bribed/bullied my tailor into making it in record time. I just know that you will look stunning it! Still, egoistical little me would be very grateful if you could send me a proof picture to swoon over. Yes, I'm a little in need of reassurance, sometimes. I hope you can forgive me that.
“I wouldn't even accuse you”, Stephen murmured.
I did, however, pick the phoenix brocade for reasons. In Chinese mythology, the phoenix stands for... Ah well, you know that already, don't you?
Open the next package before I get all sappy here.
Tony wasn't the only one to get sappy, and Stephen quickly opened the next layer of silk paper. Now that he had the Zhiju, it wasn't such a surprise to find matching garments to go underneath. Two hip-length kimono-like tops with wide sleeves, one in plain white silk, the other white with a pale blue hexagonal pattern. Under those were two pairs of pleated trousers from the same night blue silk like the Zhiju, cut so wide that Stephen thought they were skirts until he unfolded one. Under the wrapping paper was the next note.
I admit I don't know if a turtle shell pattern is a thing in Chinese couture like it is in Japan, but the turtle is a symbol for power and tenacity in Chinese mythology, therefore I chose it for a certain stupidly powerful sorcerer and tenacious man I'm glad to know.
P.S. FYI: I wanted to give you a matching piece of underwear but it was impossible to get it in time. No heads will roll because I know you wouldn't approve. I will personally dress you in that missing piece next time we meet. Have a guess meanwhile how giddy I am already.
Stephen chuckled and blushed a little. He knew without guessing.
The next piece was a box, obviously not from the tailor, which held a pair of black brocade shoes with thick soles, slightly upbent tips and a cloud pattern. A note was stuck into one of them.
Aren't clouds very fitting for a sorcerer who can fly? Also, they look a bit like Levi's collar. Tell them I said Hi, will you?
“Tony says hi”, Stephen informed his relic dutifully and lifted one shoe to point out the pattern. “See? He remembered your embroidery when he picked those. He's nice, right?”
He was a bit overenthusiastic, maybe; that would explain why Levi gently petted his hair with their collar as a reply.
But the sorcerer was half way back into the parcel again anyway.
At the bottom, protected by bubble foil, sat one last piece, another box, which he carefully lifted out. It was white and green with a bamboo leave pattern, and he identified the style and the writing as Japanese. In between the cursive writing the recognized the character for tea which already pointed him into a direction concerning the contents. Still, he didn't find the expected assortment of tea, but instead three more neatly wrapped bundles, two roundish, one longish. Curiously, he picked one of the roundish ones and worked himself through several layers of yet more silk paper, black this time, and from the emerging shape and the hardness of the object underneath it dawned on him that it had to be a tea bowl. After the last protective layer, a black cotton cloth printed with colorful leaves and flowers, was carefully opened, it was indeed a tea bowl that came to light, glazed in various shades of green and blue and streaks of white. It was sturdy, with thick walls, and rested in his trembling hands without causing any fear of accidentally breaking it with his sometimes unreliable grip.
Looking closer, Stephen found that his immediate impression had fooled him; the glazing wasn't applied from the rim downwards. The white streaks were rivulets sitting thickly on the blues and greens, indicating that the bowl had stood on its slightly uneven rim while the glazing was poured over the foot. Scrutinizing the structure, Stephen turned the bowl over, and then he saw it. The bowl was a snow-capped mountain upside down. The white glazing (which wasn't pure white; there were shades of the palest blue and gray mixed into it here and there) was snow, reaching down from the mountain top along the bare gray-blue flanks. Shades of dark green, sprinkled with copperish brown in a few spots, were a forest further down, application in overlapping downward strokes added valleys and ridges. Spots of an intense medium blue on the rim indicated were the foot of the mountain touched a lake. Stephen noted the subtle irregularities in thickness of the outside walls, giving structure to the mountain and his fingers a few more ridges to rest on comfortably.
Carefully turning it around in his hands, following the fine blending in the different hues, he discovered that in some places the rim flared ever so slighty outwards, like a bell... or a flower. Stephen turned the piece upright again. The bowl was indeed not only a snow-capped mountain upside down, it was also an abstract flower, blue and green, surrounded by the narrow leaves of a white bud.
He felt Levi wriggling in excitement on his shoulder. He slowly turned the beauty in his hands once more, studying the blend of colors from the perspective of a blossom. Then he remembered that the bowl had an inside, too.
It was the inside of a flower with a few medium blue petals standing out against the darker hues, invisible from the outside, with anthers in pale pink and fine yellow dotted onto a blue bottom. It was also a pond fed by narrow waterfalls, hidden away in a secret mountain valley, with water lilies floating on the surface that reflected sunlight in tiny golden flashes.
With admiration, Stephen traced the spots were the blue lake shore from the outside became the waterfalls – or petals – on the inside with a fingertip. This was a masterpiece, and he had no doubt he was handling a little fortune. He was oddly relieved that Tony wasn't here in person; he didn't know what to say, and he wasn't sure if he could have managed even a meager “thank you”. This was too much, and he was too overwhelmed. His throat was nearly too tight even for breathing. Levi tapped against the truffle box and gently stroked his arm. It was probably also Levi who had a tear in their eye, not him.
Stephen took the biggest truffle from the middle of the tray. Carefully cracking the chocolate crust between his incisors, he let Matcha cream and thickened, sweetened milk run onto his tongue. He was certain he had never asked for a reason to murder, but he had indubitably just been given one. He slowly finished his treat and waited until the aftertaste had somewhat faded before he felt composed enough to unwrap the remaining bundles. One, as expected, contained a second tea bowl made in the same style, and yet it was different in the spreading of color, the uneveness in the walls. The same, yet two different individuals, Stephen thought with a smile. Somewhat like Tony and him. The meaningfulness of the gift touched him deeply. After some trying, he decided to keep the first bowl as his; its surface aligned better with his hands.
The last bundle revealed a tea caddy, made entirely from cherry tree bark, without any embellishments beyond the bark's grain. The caddy was filled with green tea flavored with cherry blossoms. The delicate white and pink petals looked beautiful against the green of the finely cut Sencha, and the scent was just delicious. Stephen inhaled it deeply and held his breath for a moment before he thoroughly closed the caddy again.
There was one last letter on the bottom of the now empty box.
This... Well, it's obvious what that is, right? I really do prefer coffee, but I'm willing to make an exception and have a cup of this weird leaf stuff with you. Can't say I couldn't do it without some sophistication, can you?
The congress in Bern will be all cool, exciting and whatnot, but right now I'm much in the mood to miss it spontaneously and take you on a yacht trip. If you like yacht trips, that is. There is still too much I don't know about you, my miraculous mage.
Pepper just reminded me that I am one of the headliners for this congress, with giving speeches and running workshops and all. I'm trying to be a responsible adult, therefore I cannot just chuck the whole business. (It may also be that Pepper's heel is dangerously close to my naked toes. True purpose of high-heels uncovered: blackmail under threat of violence. She sends you a hug, btw.)
I will try to keep you in the loop about the proceedings in Bern but I might be occupied 24/7. Thinking of you a lot, no matter what. I told FRI to set up a countdown till we meet again.
Be well and stay save
Your coffee bean
Stephen pressed the paper flat against his old tunic with both hands. It felt like his heart was to jump out of his chest if he didn't add some fortification. Given from how his cheeks ached, he had to be smiling like an an idiot, but then, what else could he do? Levi squeezed him happily.
“My coffee bean”, Stephen murmured tenderly. Overwhelmed, he stroked the soft Zhiju. This, he thought. The effort, the care, the considerations. He pictured Tony before him, his smile wide and cheeky, but his deer eyes soft and shining. He could practically feel the scratch of every individual hair in Tony's goatee that accompanied his kisses. My precious little coffee bean.
“Can we switch out the electricity of New York, then? You shine bright enough to illuminate the entire city”, Wong said from the door. Stephen was too zoned out to startle.
“Get lost, Beyoncé”, he retorted without barb. “Knocking is a thing, by the way.”
Unpertubed, Wong sauntered closer and eyed the pile of precious gifts. “Not bad”, he nodded his agreement, zooming in on the truffles. “You going to try it on?”
“Of course”, Stephen said, caressing the silk on his knees, lost in happy thoughts. Levi smoothly covered the chocolate.
“By the Vishanti”, Wong exclaimed, after half a minute passed without anything. “Go get dressed! Stark certainly wants to know what you look like, and you'll need me to get a decent picture. I haven't got all day, you know.”
Stephen hummed in agreement, but continued to stare beatifiedly into space.
“Or do you need my assistance to get your pants down?”
Staring at Wong in horror, Stephen jumped to his feet, gathered all his gifts magically and levitated them along. If his walk out of the study towards his room – Levi right on his heels, the chocolate box secure in their hem – looked a little like an escape, Wong could live with that.
“By the Vishanti”, he sighed again and rubbed a hand over his short-cropped hair. One idiot of Stephen's caliber was really enough, what had he done to deserve Tony Stark on top?
Deciding he didn't want to muse about it further – especially not the literal implications of Stark on top of Strange – he magically banished the many sheets of silk paper floating around the study, then he flopped onto the couch, conjured up his signed Beyoncé biography and continued reading.