Archive of Our Own ^beta

The silence in the Sanctum never bothered Stephen Strange—until that day.
Christine's words had been echoing in his mind since morning:

" You need to stop pretending you're okay being alone, Stephen ."

He didn't answer right away. He just smiled, that half-smile she knew so well—the smile of someone who would rather die than admit to being alone.

Now, seated in the armchair in the main hall, he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, gazing at the lit fireplace. The entire universe fit inside it, and yet he felt empty.

"Hey, Supreme Wizard of Boredom," Tony Stark's unmistakable voice broke the silence. "Do you always get like this when you want attention, or is it a system bug?"

Stephen rolled his eyes, but a corner of his mouth gave way. "Stark. I didn't ask for your visit."

Tony approached, his impeccable Tom Ford suit looking absurdly out of place, a mocking smile on his lips—but his gaze, only those paying attention would notice, carried something different. A weight.

"Yeah, but I came anyway." Tony slumped into the opposite armchair, crossing his legs. "Pepper's been nagging me to 'move on.' Rhodey keeps saying I should try a 'stable relationship.' Peter even tried to get me signed up for a dating app."

Stephen let out an amused sigh. "I bet it was a disaster."

"A disaster with GIFs and flashing hearts," Tony grimaced. "And you? It seems like the atmosphere around here is... lonely."

The wizard raised an eyebrow. "Is that an attempt at flirting?"

"No, it's an attempt at intervention." Tony crossed his arms. "...What if we pretended... I don't know, that we're together?"

The silence stretched on...

Stephen blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on Tony. "Together?"

"Dating," Tony shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Temporarily. Just until people stop trying to push us into other disastrous dates. Kind of like a... pact of convenience."

Strange laughed, a low, incredulous sound. "You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes, doctor. And I'm pretending to be yours." Tony tilted his head, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes. 

Stephen crossed his arms, analyzing the man in front of him. It was an absurd idea. Improvised. Typically Stark.
But the worst part… was that it made sense.

"And how exactly would that work?" he asked, trying to maintain a clinical tone.

"Occasional dinners, public appearances, maybe a photo or two on social media." Tony gestured with his hand. "And, of course, chemistry. We have to seem convincing. I don't want Pepper to make that face like, 'Tony, you're lying and I'll find out in three seconds.'"

Strange scoffed. "Stark, I'm not an actor."

"Relax. I'm great at acting." Tony winked.

Stephen couldn't suppress a short laugh. "This, at least, will be fun."

Tony held out his hand. "So... we have a deal, fake boyfriend?"

Strange hesitated for a moment. Then he shook Tony's hand, feeling the firm warmth of his fingers.
"Just for convenience."

"Sure. Just for convenience." Tony smiled.

_________

Tony

The idea seemed brilliant the night before.
The next morning, it seemed like a bomb about to explode.

Pepper watched him from the kitchen counter with that clinical gaze of someone who always knows when he's lying. It was the same look she used when he said "I'm not working the night shift" and the whole lab glowed at three in the morning with the bluish glow of holograms and the hum of machinery. The look that reduced him to an eight-year-old boy with his hand on the cookie jar.

"So…" she crossed her arms, her voice careful. "Are you dating the Stranger?"

Tony grinned with the charm of a man who'd just been caught red-handed.
"Exactly. The one and only. Cloak, sarcasm, and all. Including that old-fashioned incense smell that permeates the Sanctum. I thought you'd like him—he has a higher IQ than our combined R&D budget."

Rhodey, sitting on the counter with his Navy coffee mug in hand, nearly choked on the hot sip. "You're kidding. That's one of those jokes of yours that takes three days to get, right?"

"I swear. I mean, technically I don't swear because swearing is for people who need deities." Tony shrugged, trying to sound relaxed. "But... seriously. He's intelligent, elegant, has a great sense of humor. Sometimes. When he's not being the most unbearable human being on the astral plane."

"Sometimes?" Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Tony, Stephen has the charisma of a rock."

“Hey!” Tony replied, too quickly, his voice rising half a tone. “I like stones. Some even glow! And he glows, Pep. Not literally, except when he’s doing that thing with his hands and the runes start to…” He made a vague gesture in the air, his hands drawing invisible spirals. “You know. Mystical glow.”

Peter, who until then had been trying to become invisible while eating cereal in the corner of the kitchen, flashed a shy smile that disappeared behind the rim of the bowl. "Mr. Stark... you two are like... a magical couple? Like, literally magical? I always thought you had, I don't know... chemistry. In combat, I mean! When you fight together it's like... " he gestured with his hands, trying to express something indescribable " ...harmony. But now it's loving! That's so... wow."

Tony blinked, processing the purity of that adolescent assessment. "Literally. And 'loving' is a pretty strong word, kid. Let's just say it's... conveniently affectionate."

The silence that followed was Oscar-worthy.
Pepper sighed and placed her hand on her hip.
"I just hope this isn't an escape from dealing with your feelings, Tony. That it's not just another one of your performances to avoid looking inward."

He opened his mouth to retort—and, for a second, wanted to say it wasn't faking.
But her gaze was kind, and lying was becoming an Olympic sport.

"No, Pep." Her voice came out lower than she intended, almost vulnerable. "This time, it's real. It's... different. He's different."

And she smiled. She almost believed her own words. Almost.

________

Stephen

Wong stared at him as if he were standing before an unstable portal about to suck in the entire universe.
"You... and Tony Stark?" Wong articulated each word as if uttering a forbidden curse. "The man who once wanted to rewrite reality with a peace treaty? The one who thinks magic is 'science we don't yet understand'?"

" Exactly. " Stephen maintained his calm tone, his posture impeccable, but his heart was beating far too fast for someone who swore to be indifferent.

Christine, standing beside her, almost dropped her mug of tea. "Are you two together? Like... romantically together? Not like 'together to save the world,' but like... together to have dinner and argue about who's going to do the dishes?"

"Yes." He crossed his arms, feigning normalcy. "It happened naturally."

Wong stared at him for several long seconds. "Natural. Right. And I am the new Sorcerer Supreme."

"You're the guardian of the library, which is already quite impressive," he tried to deflect.

Christine, however, knew him too well. She knew every nervous tic, every blink that lasted half a second longer. "Stephen…" she said softly. "I just hope he makes you happy. You deserve someone who will pull you out of this constant isolation. Someone who sees beyond Doctor Strange and finds the Stephen that still exists down there."

He stared at her, his dark blue eyes meeting her light green ones. For a moment, he almost told the truth. He almost confessed that it was all a charade, a convenient arrangement, a way to make the world stop looking at its own black holes.

But the silence between them was too full of unspoken things.

"He... tries," Stephen finally replied, and the words rang more truthful than they should have. "It's an interesting effort to watch."

_______

Tony Stark's workshop was an organized chaos—wires, tools, and holograms scattered everywhere. The smell of hot metal mingled with the unexpected aroma of freshly made spaghetti.
Stephen Strange looked around, trying not to show his discomfort with the faint hum of the machines and the intense lighting.

Tony, seated at one of the counters, gestured toward him with a sly smile that was half charm, half challenge. "Welcome to the heart of my technological empire, Doctor. And, for the record, this is a business dinner… for two."

"Fake couple," Stephen corrected, crossing his arms.

"False, but with rules." Tony spun in his ergonomic chair, picking up a tablet. The screen's reflection illuminated his face with a bluish glow. "We need to align expectations."

"Expectations?" Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Stark, this is an agreement, not a marriage."

"Yeah. And it's in the agreements that marriages fail." Tony winked, typing something. "So, rule number one: don't make me seem needy. If anyone asks, you're completely in love with me. Like, head over heels."

"This will be quite an acting challenge." Stephen approached the counter, observing the steaming bowl of macaroni. The steam rose in spirals that danced in the light. "And you're assuming I can express emotions that don't exist."

"Hey!" Tony gestured indignantly, but the smile never faded. "Rule number two: photos. Pepper will want proof. She's like a private detective when it comes to my love life."

Stephen sighed. "Photos are inevitable, I imagine."

"Exactly. Occasional selfies, dinners, maybe a quick trip." Tony raised an eyebrow teasingly. "And before you complain, I'm a good cook."

"I doubt it," Stephen retorted. "And what about public displays of affection?"

"It depends..." Tony raised an eyebrow provocatively, but Stephen noticed the blush rising to his neck. "If you want to seem convincing, maybe we'll have to practice a little of that too. Nothing a theatrical kiss can't fix. Or a strategic hug."

The wizard arched an eyebrow, but didn't back down. The space between them was shrinking, charged with something that wasn't just magic or technology. "Stark, don't confuse realism with unnecessary improvisation. There was an incident in 2016 with a "strategic kiss" that almost caused a war."

Tony laughed, the genuine sound echoing through the space and making Stephen feel something strange in his chest.

Okay, doctor, I think the "relationship" will work. You're already treating me better than most of my ex-girlfriends. And I've had some who wrote poems in dead languages ​​to impress me.

Stephen looked away, stirring the pasta on his plate with his fork. The sauce was surprisingly good—complex, balanced, with a hint of spice he couldn't quite identify. "I just hope your rules don't include public displays of affection at events with more than twenty people. I have a limit to my social interaction."

"Let's start with five and work our way up." Tony winked, and for a brief moment, neither of them looked away.

He picked up his fork and took a careful bite. "Hm. This is... surprisingly good."

"See?" Tony rested his chin on his hand, observing him with feigned attention. "You underestimate me too much."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Only the sound of the machines filled the air. Stephen seemed to relax, his shoulders less rigid. Tony, on the other hand, discreetly fought against the stabbing pain in his chest—not strong, just familiar. A metallic reminder that his body still bore scars.
He inhaled slowly, disguising the pain.

"Is everything alright?" Stephen asked, noticing the slight movement of Tony's hand over the reactor.

"Yes," he replied too quickly. "Just an old itch. The reactor sometimes complains when I sit for too long."

Stephen observed him for a moment, his clinical gaze betraying his disbelief, but he didn't insist. "If you'd like, I can adjust some vibrational frequencies. They might ease the pressure in your chest."

Is this a pickup line disguised as a healing spell?

"It's science," the wizard replied impassively. "But yes, I can also use it as a pick-up line, if you prefer."

Tony laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the space. "Okay, doctor, I think the 'relationship' is going to work."

_______

Tony's apartment was quiet—a rarity that almost hurt. The background music, a minimalist piano piece that Stephen recognized as Philip Glass, played softly, and the smell of garlic and olive oil wafted through the room like a promise of normalcy. Stephen watched from the oak table, arms crossed, a slight furrowing of his brow that was more habit than genuine disapproval.

"This is edible, right?" he asked, looking at the plate Tony had just placed on his plate. It was wild mushroom risotto, with a presentation that rivaled Michelin-starred restaurants.

Tony turned with a smug smile, holding the spoon as if it were a weapon.
"Doctor, I'm a man of many talents. Engineering, charm, cooking…"

"Pathological egocentrism," Stephen added, ironically.

"That too." Tony winked, stirring the sauce again. "Relax, it's not poison."

Stephen sighed, but a discreet smile appeared at the corner of his lips. The scene was strangely domestic—the magician, the genius, and a romantic dinner that only existed on paper.
Or should have.

Tony placed two plates on the table and, before Stephen could say anything, pulled out his cell phone. "Wait a minute. Evidence."

Proof?

"Pepper thinks I invented this relationship to avoid therapy." Tony held up his phone, leaning over to Stephen. "So, look at the camera and try not to look like you want to murder me."

Stephen let out an exasperated sigh, but ended up leaning in slightly. Tony's shoulder brushed against his.
Tony smiled naturally—the kind of smile that always seemed real, even when it was staged.
Stephen, on the other hand, maintained a neutral expression. But, at the exact moment Tony clicked, he turned his face slightly—and the result was an unexpectedly good photo.
Natural. Almost intimate.

"Hm. " Tony analyzed the image. "We look... happy."

"A miracle," Stephen replied, glancing sideways. 

Before Tony could answer, the door to the room opened.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter's voice echoed, full of enthusiasm, something rolled up in his hands. "I brought the— what you asked for, that component of—"

The boy froze at the sight: Tony and Stephen sitting at the table, dishes served, discreet candles lit, and a cell phone in Tony's hands clearly showing a photo of the two of them together.

" Uh… " Peter blinked, trying to understand. " I… interrupted a couple's dinner?"

Tony, out of pure dramatic instinct, placed his hand on Stephen's.
"Pete! Good to see you here, kid. Yes, the doctor and I are... let's say... having dinner together. Like people who like each other do. It's a concept. You should try it with MJ."

Stephen glanced at Tony's hand on his, but didn't pull away. The touch was... pleasant. That was the problem.
Peter, on the other hand, froze for a second before breaking into a wide grin.
"This is... amazing! Like... wow! I always thought you two... well, you were a good match!"

Tony chuckled contentedly. "See, Stephen? The boy has good taste."

Stephen merely raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a small smile he could no longer suppress. "Peter, you arrived just in time. Would you like dinner? There's enough risotto for three."

"I don't want to interrupt a romantic moment!" Peter waved his hands nervously. "I just came to return the lab key!"

Tony laughed. "Relax, kid. The doctor here is a man of ice. Dinner is just couple's practice."

Stephen stared at him, and Tony realized his mistake—too quickly to hide it.
“I mean… social practice,” he tried to correct, coughing. “To avoid public embarrassment.”

Peter, like any good teenager, didn't notice anything beyond the obvious.
"You two are a really cool couple!" he exclaimed, and ran out of the room, probably already planning to tell everyone.

The silence that followed was almost palpable.
Stephen finally removed his hand from under Tony's.
"Social practice, Stark?"

"Technical slip-up," Tony replied, pouring wine into glasses. "But, for the record, the photo turned out great."

"Of course it stayed." Stephen stared at him for a moment, then looked down. 

Tony riu.

_______

The morning began like almost every other at the Tower — except for the fact that Tony Stark looked like a zombie in full autopilot mode.

His messy hair betrayed the sleepless night, and the long yawn, as he walked to the coffee maker, made it clear that he only began to exist after the first dose of caffeine.

Rhodey and Pepper were already in the room, each with a cup in hand and eyes attentive enough to notice his condition.

"What kept you awake like that, Tones?" Rhodey asked with a mischievous smile, raising an eyebrow with an expression that suggested he already knew the answer but wanted to hear the lie anyway. "It's been a long time since I've seen you with dark circles this big. And I saw you after three straight days in the lab."

Tony stopped in his tracks, blinking a few times, trying to understand the intonation. "What?"

Pepper set down her cup calmly, but the corner of her lips trembled as well. "Rhodey thinks you... well... had a busy night."

Tony frowned, picking up his mug.
“Busy? I was in the workshop. Working. On improving the reactor's cooling system. It gets really hot.” ​​He paused, realizing the trap he had set for himself. “I mean, the reactor gets hot. Not the workshop. Well, the workshop does too…”

"Ah, sure." Rhodey leaned back on the couch, his smile widening. "Workshop. Is that what you call it now? Like, 'I'm going to work in the workshop' means 'I'm going on a romantic date with the Sorcerer Supreme'? Since when do you use euphemisms, Tony?"

Tony was silent for a second before it dawned on him. "Oh, no. No, no, no!" he raised his finger, shaking his head. "You're not implying that Stephen kept me awake, are you?"

Pepper crossed her arms, feigning innocence.
"We're just observing, Tony. Yesterday Peter showed up all excited, saying he saw you two having dinner by candlelight. With risotto. And wine. And he used the word 'cute.' Peter used the word 'cute' to describe the two of you."

" Light of— oh, great. " Tony ran a hand over his face, huffing. " The kid probably already told the whole universe."

"So it was true?" Rhodey leaned forward, amused. "The dinner, I mean. Not the part about you being cute, because I still need to see that to believe it."

Tony took a deep breath, trying to decide whether to deny or maintain the charade.
In the end, the lie won—with a touch of theatricality.

"Yes, yes, us. Me and the wizard." She took a sip of coffee and feigned indifference. "We had a quiet dinner, nothing special."

"Nothing special, just candles and wine?" Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Tony, the last time you used candles was at that Halloween party that burned down half the Malibu mansion."

"It was ambient lighting," he retorted. "You know I like style."

Rhodey laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Stark would be in a mature relationship."

Tony snorted, but the smile escaped him and he rolled his eyes.
"Great. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pretend to be productive before someone decides to ask me what color his cloak is."

He left the kitchen with his mug in hand, muttering something about "meddling friends." But as he walked back to the workshop, he realized he was smiling to himself—and, worse, without knowing why.

______

The Sanctum was silent, as always.
Flames danced in the fireplace, casting warm shadows on the ancient shelves. Stephen sat in a worn leather armchair, an open book in his lap, but his mind was far from the pages.

She turned another page, read the same line three times, and didn't absorb a single word.
The image from the previous night—the dinner, Tony's smile, the photo—kept lingering.

It was Wong's voice that snapped him out of his trance. "You came back late yesterday." His tone was neutral, but his gaze was full of curiosity. "Some dimensional problem I should know about?"

Stephen cleared his throat, marking the page with his finger.
"Nothing so dramatic."

“‘Nothing so dramatic’ is your way of saying it was almost fatal.” Wong crossed his arms, leaning against the door. “Or… that you were with Stark. And not in the sense of ‘let’s save the world together.’ In the sense of ‘you have a sparkle in your eyes that I haven’t seen since you bought that expensive watch and then regretted it.’”

The wizard slowly raised his gaze. "And who told you that?"

" Peter. " he replied simply. " He showed up here earlier today, delivering a box of tech parts, and between comments about "Mr. Stark is very cool" and "Doctor Strange is very intelligent," he mentioned that you and Tony "make a cute couple." He used the word "cute," Stephen. Cute. To describe the Sorcerer Supreme and Iron Man."

Stephen closed the book slowly, exhaling a controlled sigh. "Ah, great. The boy has become a sort of social messenger."

Wong raised an eyebrow, studying his friend's face. "So it's true?"

Stephen held his gaze for a few seconds.
It was a test.
Lying to Wong wasn't easy—the man knew him too well.

"Yes," he finally replied. Stephen put the book down beside him, trying to maintain an academic tone. "We had dinner yesterday."

"By candlelight?" Wong asked, in a tone that mixed skepticism and humor.

"The lighting in his house is peculiar," he retorted without hesitation.

Wong didn't laugh, but his eyes gleamed with irony.
"And since when do you go on 'peculiar' dinners with billionaires? Since when do you go on dinners, period?"

"Since when does anyone need to stop worrying about me?" Stephen replied, his tone drier than he intended.

Wong was silent for a moment, then let out a soft sigh.
"Christine will want details."

"I figured." Stephen leaned back in his armchair. "I just ask that when she asks, you don't mention anything about candles."

Wong smiled slightly. "So it's serious."

His friend gave a small nod and left, muttering something about "interdimensional romances."
Stephen was alone again, the forgotten book beside him.

He gazed at the fireplace and let his mind wander—the memory of Tony's hand on his, the soft sound of his laughter, the way the glow of the reactor reflected in the wine glass.
It was all meant to be an act. Convenience.
But as the warmth of the memory mingled with that of the flames, Stephen realized he might be starting to believe his own lie.

_____

The day was clear, the sun reflecting off the park's leaves, and a light breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass.
It was a rare moment of calm—no threats, no meetings, no dimensional portals or shattered armor.

Tony and Stephen were sitting on one of the wooden benches near the lake, each with a cup of chocolate ice cream in their hands.

Tony took his first spoonful and glanced sideways. "I admit, I didn't imagine you were the type to eat ice cream."

Stephen raised an eyebrow, his expression serene. "And what exactly does that mean?"

"Oh, I don't know." Tony swirled his spoon in the glass thoughtfully. "You seem like the type who looks at ice cream and says, 'Too sweet, too ordinary, too human.'"

Stephen brought the spoon to his mouth, savoring the icy taste for a moment before replying, "Perhaps I only appreciate the simple things occasionally."

Tony watched him for a moment, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. "So I was wrong. That's rare."

" Maybe you're becoming too human, Stark."

The comment made Tony chuckle briefly. "Too late for that, doctor."

A comfortable silence settled between the two. People passed by, children ran around, a dog pulled its owner toward the lake. Tony took his cell phone out of his pocket, leaning slightly forward.
"A photo, to update our 'happy couple album,'" he said ironically, but his voice was softer than usual.

Stephen sighed, but moved closer, sitting nearer. Tony's shoulder brushed against his. The click was quick, but the contact remained—brief, natural.

Tony lowered his phone, looking at the photo.
The two were smiling discreetly, with the green background of the park behind them.
He felt a slight tightening in his chest—not because of the reactor, at least not this time.

Stephen noticed the distant look. "Is everything alright?"

"Just a mild headache," Tony replied, massaging his temple. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

You should get more rest.

"And you should worry less," she retorted, but her tone was almost affectionate.

Stephen looked away, trying to hide a discreet smile. "If I worry less, you'll end up blowing something up."

"And if I rest any longer, you'll get bored." Tony raised his spoon as if proposing a toast. "I think we're even."

They ate the rest of their ice cream in silence, watching the reflection of the light on the water.
The scene, to anyone passing by, seemed ordinary—two men sharing a moment of peace.
But for them, normalcy was something rare… and, suddenly, precious.

______

Tony walked down the tower hallway, his hair disheveled and wearing the same sweatshirt he'd worn the night before—which, for someone like him, was already a sign of tiredness or distraction.
He was on his way to the workshop when he heard Rhodey's voice behind him.

"No, Tony!"

Tony turned, offering a half-smile. "Rhodey."

Rhodey approached with the confident gait of someone who knew Tony better than anyone.
"It's been a while since I've seen you with dark circles this big under your eyes. Are you alright?"

"Everything's great," Tony replied, feigning enthusiasm. "Laboratories, calculations, coffee... a genius's routine."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Right. And Doctor Mystic? How are you and Strange doing?"

Tony blinked once, surprised, before remembering the plot he himself had helped create.
"Ah, he… great," he replied too quickly. "We're both… you know, in sync."

Rhodey crossed his arms. "Synchronized?"

"Yeah. Like a couple's Wi-Fi. Sometimes there's interference, but in the end it works."

The colonel laughed, shaking his head. "You're terrible with metaphors, Tony."

Tony feigned offense. "Hey, at least I'm trying to seem romantic. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Rhodey narrowed his eyes. "So, is this really serious between you two?"

Tony hesitated for a split second. His usual smile quickly returned, but his gaze betrayed him somewhat.
"Serious enough that I don't want to give you details."

"So that means 'yes,' then." Rhodey laughed. "Man, I never imagined seeing you... dating."

Tony shrugged, as if it were the most trivial subject in the world. "Neither do I. But he has a certain charm."

Rhodey patted him on the shoulder, still laughing. "I'm happy for you, Tones. Really. You seem... lighter."

Tony was silent for a moment. "Lighter." It was funny to hear that when his chest ached.
But part of him knew his friend was right. Since Stephen had appeared, the silences weren't so heavy anymore.

"Thanks, Rods," he murmured. "I think I'm trying to make it work."

Rhodey nodded and walked away down the hallway, leaving Tony standing there for a moment, lost in thought.

He took a deep breath.

_____

The coffee shop was small and discreet, and Christine always chose the table at the back, near the window. It was almost a ritual—the same place, the same type of coffee, the same analytical look she cast on Stephen as if she were still his patient.

"You're late," she said, smiling, as she saw him approaching.

Stephen adjusted his scarf and sat down, with that restrained air of someone who had calculated the delay with precision. " Dimensional traffic. An absurd waste of time."

Christine laughed. "And I thought it was just New York traffic."

He merely raised an eyebrow, accepting the cup of coffee the waiter placed on the table.
The smell was strong and warm—a stark contrast to the cold throbbing in his hands.

"So," she began, resting her chin on her hand, "how's the relationship going?"

Stephen almost choked on his first sip. — Straightforward as always.

"Profession," she said with an amused smile. "So? Is the billionaire genius a good boyfriend?"

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the coffee foam.
“Tony is… unpredictable. He talks too much, sleeps too little, causes chaos and…” he took a deep breath. “…is surprisingly kind when nobody’s looking.”

Christine tilted her head, studying him intently. "You just described someone you like, Stephen."

He frowned. "I described someone who tests my patience."

"Hm. Sure," she replied ironically, stirring the sugar in her coffee. "And this 'test' makes you smile when you talk about it?"

Stephen looked away out the window, hiding a slight blush. "Christine, I didn't come here to talk about Stark."

"Yes, but you ended up saying it," she replied, sweetly but firmly. "You seem... different."

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Maybe I'm just... calmer."

"Or in love," she added.

His gaze met hers—a brief moment in which no words seemed safe.
Then Stephen chuckled softly, that weary laugh he used when he wanted to end the conversation.

" In love, Christine? Let's take it slow. "

_____

The sound of metal against metal, the constant hum of tools, and the blue glow of the reactor reflecting off the walls—Tony's workshop was in its usual rhythm.
Peter was bent over the workbench, his tongue caught in the corner of his mouth as he soldered a small connector for the new suit.

"Slow down, kid. If you weld it crooked again, you'll ruin the aerodynamics," Tony commented without looking, adjusting a tiny piece with a precision wrench.

Peter laughed nervously. "It's just that your hands are steadier, Mr. Stark."

Tony looked up above his goggles. "And more stylish. Don't forget that."

The teenager let out a short laugh. "So... how's it going with Doctor Strange?"

Tony froze for a second. The tool slipped from his finger and fell to the counter with a click.
"What kind of 'going' do you mean, Parker?"

"Like... a relationship," Peter replied with an embarrassed smile. "Pepper said you seem more relaxed lately."

Tony snorted, resuming fiddling with the piece. "Calm is a strong word. The guy looks at me like he can see what I ate for breakfast."

"That's kind of scary." Peter grimaced. "But you like him, right?"

Tony almost laughed.  “Taste” is a… technical term."

"Technical?" Peter blinked, confused. "Like Wi-Fi?"

Tony sighed, putting the tool aside. "Like… I didn't plan this, kid. He's annoying, stubborn, sarcastic—and somehow makes the world seem a little less… noisy."

Peter remained silent, watching him intently.
"That sounds pretty 'non-technical,' Mr. Stark."

Tony raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Instead, he picked up one of the suit's gloves and began adjusting the energy field.
"If you tell anyone that, I'll deny it to the end."

Peter smiled. "Of course, I won't tell. It just... seems like you're happy."

Tony didn't know what to answer. He just nodded, pretending to be concentrating.

_______

The creature was a mass of shadows and translucent tentacles, roaring in a language neither of them recognized.
The alley floor trembled with each impact, and the air smelled of ozone and corrupted magic.

Tony unleashed a repulsive pulse that struck the monster squarely, sending it back a few meters.
" Hey, Merlin, any time would be a good time for a brilliant and useful spell!"

Stephen, a few meters ahead, was tracing symbols in the air with precise movements—his hands trembling slightly from pain and effort.
“I’m… trying!” he growled, sweat trickling down his temple.

The portal began to open, sucking the monster back into its dimension. But before the spell was complete, one of the smaller creatures lunged at them.
Tony tried to intercept, but he was too fast—the claw pierced the mystical shield and struck Stephen in the shoulder.

" Stephen! " Tony shouted, the sound a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

The wizard staggered, but kept his hands steady until the portal closed. The monster vanished, leaving only the sound of gasping breath and smoke.

Tony ran towards him, knocking pieces of his armor to the ground. "Stay still, let me see," he said quickly, already activating the suit's scanner.

Stephen pulled his hand away, panting. "It's just a superficial cut."

"Superficial?!" Tony raised his voice, panic masked as anger. "You're bleeding, Strange!"

Stephen took a deep breath, sitting down on the sidewalk with a low groan. "And you're yelling. Neither of those things is new."

Tony knelt before him, unable to hide the trembling in his hands. "You could have died."

Stephen looked at him, surprised by the tone. "Tony... I'm fine."

But the billionaire didn't answer. He just took a deep breath, trying to control the wave of anguish rising in his chest—and it wasn't the reactor's fault this time.
He tore a piece of his own glove from the suit and improvised a bandage on the wizard's shoulder.

"You're terrible at accepting help," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

"And you're terrible at hiding your concern," Stephen replied in a whisper.

The two stared at each other for a moment.
The world around them seemed distant—only the sound of their breathing, the glow of the reactor, and the blood staining the golden fabric of Stephen's suit could be heard.

When they returned to the tower, Tony insisted on taking care of him in the private infirmary.
Pepper and Rhodey even showed up, but Tony practically kicked them out.

Alone, he changed the bandage, his hands steady but his gaze tense.
Stephen watched him silently, noticing the change—the genuine fear there.

Stark... it was just a cut.

Tony stopped moving, taking a deep breath. " To me, it didn't just look like a cut."

Stephen smiled slightly. "So you care more than you let on."

Tony looked away. "Don't start, Strange."

But it was too late.
The lie had completely fallen apart.

______

The tower room was silent, except for the constant sound of Tony's footsteps pacing back and forth.
He walked in circles, a mug of coffee in his hand, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes.
Pepper and Rhodey watched him from the sofa—she with her arms crossed, he with a raised eyebrow, already used to his friend's sudden outbursts.

"It's impossible," Tony murmured, more to himself than to them. "I'm a genius, a billionaire, an Iron Man, and yet... even so, I managed to create the most convincing fake relationship in history, and now I don't know what to do with it."

"Tony," Pepper began, with the calm of someone who's dealt with a thousand versions of his existential crisis, "breathe. Since when have you been this dramatic?"

"Ever since the wizard decided to almost die in front of me, Pepper!" he retorted, gesturing with his mug. "I should be used to danger, to blood, to injuries... but when it's him, it feels like my chest clenches."

Rhodey exchanged a quick glance with Pepper, then looked back at his friend. "Are you trying to tell me that your 'fake relationship'... isn't so fake after all?"

Tony stopped walking. He stood silent for a few seconds, staring at the ground.
Then he let out a heavy sigh.
"Okay. Before you all start with the 'we knew it,' I'll be honest. The relationship with Strange was an act." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It was so you'd stop thinking I'm... I don't know, lonely, melancholic, living on coffee and trauma."

Rhodey blinked, somewhat taken aback " So… you're telling me you lied to everyone?"

"I conveniently omitted the truth," Tony corrected with a tired little smile. "But then the wizard got involved, and suddenly, it didn't seem like a lie anymore."

Pepper watched him intently, that analytical yet gentle gaze that always disarmed him.
"Tony…" she began, rising from the sofa. "When you talk about him, your voice changes."

Tony raised his eyebrows, uncomfortably.
"Is that a medical observation or a diagnosis of 'Stark is emotionally screwed'?"

She approached, crossing her arms. "It's a diagnosis from someone who's known you for years. You care about him. More than you want to admit."

Tony looked away, running a hand through his hair.
"It's not that simple. He's the Sorcerer Supreme, the kind of man who literally has the universe in his hands. I... I'm just a guy with a reactor in my chest and a history of making stupid decisions."

Rhodey scoffed. "Dude, if you weren't you, he wouldn't have given you a second glance. Do you really think Dr. Frozen Ego would agree to pretend to date just anyone? He's in this as much as you are."

Tony gave a short, humorless laugh. "What you're saying is that... the pretense might not be just on my part."

Pepper nodded. "Maybe you two started out pretending, but... well, nobody can keep up a lie like that for so long without feeling anything real."

Tony looked out the window, observing the New York skyline, the lights twinkling in the distance.
The reactor in his chest pulsed silently, and for a moment, he realized how different that weight felt—not physically, but emotionally.

"Yeah, maybe I fell in love with him," she admitted, her voice coming out lower than she intended. "And the worst part is that it wasn't even part of the plan."

Rhodey laughed. "Welcome to the real world, Tones. Sometimes the heart is more stubborn than the head."

Pepper placed a light hand on his shoulder. "Then maybe it's time to stop pretending."

Tony remained silent, but for the first time in a long time… he smiled. A small, almost imperceptible smile—but genuine.

_____

The sound of the fine rain pattering against the windows of the Sanctum created a soft, almost hypnotic rhythm.
Stephen sat in his usual armchair, an open book before him, but the words had long since ceased to make sense.
His blue eyes scanned the pages, but his mind… was still in the tower, in the memory of Tony's hands—firm, gentle—helping him to his feet after the fight.

He let out another sigh, long and heavy.

"Okay, Strange, just say it already." Wong's voice echoed through the room, heavy with impatience and a hint of irony. "Because if I have to hear one more sigh from you, I'll think the book is seducing you."

Stephen looked up, raising an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"

Wong crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "You're distracted. And considering you almost burned the tea in the kitchen this morning, I think the reason has a name and surname."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Tony Stark isn't a 'motive.' He's... a friend."

"A friend you've been sighing over for half an hour." Wong raised an eyebrow, satisfied. "Want to try again?"

The wizard looked away, clenching his hands, the physical discomfort mixing with the emotional one. "He just... overreacted. I was a little hurt, nothing serious, but Tony panicked. He insisted on taking care of me personally, as if I had one foot in the grave."

Wong nodded slowly. "And that bothers you because...?"

"Because I'm not used to this," Stephen replied in a lower tone, almost a whisper. "To someone caring. Christine always cared, of course, but… she's different. She's family. Wong, Tony stayed up all night to make sure I was okay. He made me tea. Tea. The same man who probably thinks dried leaves are only good for cocktail decorations."

Wong stifled a laugh, but made no comment.
Stephen continued, staring at the fire in the fireplace.

I spent so much time tending to wounds—mine, others', those of time, of space—that I forgot what it was like for someone to want to take care of me.

"And now?" Wong asked, in a softer tone. "How does that make you feel?"

Stephen remained silent for a few moments, his fingers gliding along the edge of the book.

"Confused," he finally admitted. "I should be relieved that everything turned out alright. That he's okay. But… what worries me now is the opposite. When he's not around, I find myself wondering if he slept, if he ate, if he's taking care of himself."

Wong took a deep breath, his expression more serious now. "You know, Strange, for someone so intelligent, you're sometimes incredibly slow."

" Like this?"

"I think you've grown attached to him. And not in the way you get attached to a colleague or ally." Wong gave a slight smile. "You may not have realized it yet, but you're in love."

Stephen stared at him, incredulous. "In love? Wong, that's ridiculous. Tony and I are just pretending—"

"You pretended so well that even you believed it," Wong interrupted him firmly.

Silence settled between them once more. Only the crackling of the fire filled the space.

Stephen lowered his gaze, and a brief, involuntary smile crossed his face—small, but genuine.

"He really worries too much..." he murmured, almost to himself.

Wong shrugged. "Then maybe it's time for you to stop running away from it."

Stephen sighed again, but this time the sound was softer.
And, deep down, something inside him knew that Wong was right.

_____

Afternoon was falling over the Tower, the sky tinged with a soft orange. The city hummed in the distance, but inside, everything seemed too quiet. Tony sat on the lab balcony, a cup of cold coffee in his hands, gazing at the horizon without truly seeing it.

Things had been... strange for days.
Pepper and Rhodey knew about the charade, and so did Wong. The "relationship" no longer had any purpose.
But the mere thought of ending it made Tony's chest ache—and it wasn't because of the reactor.

He heard the sound of the door opening. "May I come in?" the calm, unmistakable voice asked.

Tony glanced over his shoulder. Stephen stood there, his dark blue coat over his suit, his hands gloved as always, his gaze unreadable. "Wizard. Of course you can."

Stephen approached slowly, leaning lightly on the railing. The cold wind ruffled his hair, and Tony had to resist the urge to fix it.

Stephen replied, his voice low. "It was only a matter of time."

Tony stared at him for a moment. "So... is that it? The charade is over?"

Stephen hesitated before replying, gazing at the horizon before speaking: “I don’t think there’s any point in continuing.”
He glanced at him sideways. “Not that it was bad. On the contrary. It was… pleasant.”

Tony forced a smile.  “Pleasant.” Wow, what a touching statement, doc."

Stephen smiled slightly. "You understand what I mean."

Tony looked away, taking a deep breath. "I understand. And you're right. Pretending doesn't make sense anymore."

Silence returned, dense, full of unspoken things.
Tony felt his heart race—he wanted to say what he really thought, that pretending might have been the only genuine part of his life in months.
But fear held him back.

"So... we're just friends again?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Stephen observed him with that clinical, precise gaze, but there was a gentleness there.
" I never saw you merely as a colleague, Tony."

Tony looked up, surprised. "Is this... good or bad?"

"It's sincere," Stephen replied with a half-smile. "You brought a bit of chaos and warmth to a place I didn't even realize was too cold."

Tony laughed awkwardly. "So, besides being a fake boyfriend, I also serve as an ego booster."

"More like a soul warmer," Stephen said, and for a moment, his gaze softened completely.

Tony looked away, feeling his chest tighten. "You have a dangerous way of speaking, doc."

"Only when it's true," replied the wizard.

They stood there for a while, side by side, watching the sunset. Neither of them said they missed what they had, because they both knew it was still there—they just didn't know what to do with it.

As Stephen stood up to leave, Tony murmured, "Hey, Strange."

" Try?"

Even if the pretense is over… you can still show up from time to time.

Stephen smiled, that small, rare smile. "Only if there's coffee."

"I have plenty of coffee," Tony replied, with a subtle glint in his eye.

_____

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, his hair messy, still wearing his crumpled black t-shirt, the blue reactor glowing faintly on his chest.
In the corner of the room, Rhodey watched him with his arms crossed, the expression of someone who had already lost patience—but still cared too much to give up.

"Seriously, Tony. You still haven't told him?" Rhodey asked, breaking the silence.
His voice sounded more exasperated than angry.

Tony let out a short, humorless laugh. "Ah, great. We're starting the trial show. Want some popcorn to go with it?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm not judging you. I'm trying to understand what's holding you back. You two have been in this weird dance for weeks."

Tony ran a hand over his face, exhausted. "I just... I don't want to ruin what we have, okay? Whatever that is."

“That sounds a lot like you trying to convince yourself that you don’t feel what you feel,” Rhodey retorted, sitting down in the armchair opposite the bed. “And that never ends well, Tony.”

Tony was silent for a moment, staring at the floor.
The reactor pulsed slowly, reflecting a bluish glow in his trembling hands.

"He's different, you know?" she murmured softly. "He makes me want to... be a decent human being.
God, when did things get so complicated?"

Rhodey gave a small smile. "From the moment you started caring."

Tony looked up. "What if I tell him and he laughs in my face? Or worse—what if he walks away? I've lost too many people already, Rhodey."

The other sighed, shaking his head. "What if he feels the same way, but thinks you'll never say anything?
You're trapped in your own fear, man."

Tony frowned, hesitating. "It's not that simple."

" It never is. But you've always been the guy who makes the impossible seem simple. Remember?"

Tony smiled half a tired smile. "That's a good one. I should put that on my epitaph."

Rhodey laughed, standing up. "Go talk to him, Tony. Before someone gets hurt—and I'm not talking about quantum physics."

Tony walked him to the door, making no promises, but his gaze spoke louder than words.

When he was alone, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
The dark circles under his eyes, the pale glow of the reactor, the face too tired for a genius who pretended to always be in control.

“Go talk to him,” he murmured to himself, letting out a sigh. “Easy for you to say, Rods.”

But even with the nagging doubt, a decision was beginning to take shape in the back of his mind.
Perhaps… it was time to take a risk.

_____

The sky was torn open—literally.
Violet fissures opened above New York, spewing chaotic energy as an interdimensional being roared amidst the ruins of a city block.
Stephen, already sweating, manipulated the mystical beams to contain the creature, but the spell wavered.

"Tony, close the west side!" he shouted, feeling his hands tremble.
Pain throbbed in his joints, but he didn't have time to think about that.

Tony, perched atop a nearby building, adjusted the repulsors' aim. "Closing in, wizard!" he replied, his voice muffled by the armor's helmet. "Just try not to open a hole to another universe, okay? Stark Industries' electricity bill doesn't cover that!"

Peter, swinging between the buildings, tried to clear away the debris and help civilians. "Mr. Stark, that thing is getting bigger!" he shouted.

"Yeah, I see, Kid!" Tony replied, overloading the repulsors. "Let's finish this quickly before it turns into a theme park from hell!"

But, the instant Stephen raised his hands to stabilize the spell, one of the creature's tentacles struck him squarely, hurling him against a wall.
The impact echoed dryly, and the wizard fell, groaning, his right side throbbing.

" Stephen!" Tony sped down, his heart racing as if the reactor were about to explode.
He landed beside him, kneeling, his hands trembling more than he would have liked.

Blood trickled from a cut on Stephen's forehead, and his right leg was in an awkward position.
But the wizard, stubborn as always, tried to get up.

"I'm fine," he murmured, breathless. "Just... a slight ache."

Tony let out a nervous laugh.  “Slight pain”? You sound like you fought an interdimensional truck!"

While Peter neutralized the rest of the creature with energized webs and the portal closed with the final glow of an automatic spell, Tony moved closer, gently holding Stephen's shoulder.

"Don't move, please, weird doctor," he said, his voice faltering mid-sentence.
Fear and relief mingled in a way he couldn't hide.

Stephen looked at him, confused, watching the helmet retract and reveal Tony's pale, worried face.

"Tony, I'm..." he tried to say, but Tony interrupted him, his breathing irregular.

"I like you, Stephen!" he blurted out, too quickly, as if the very fear of not saying it would choke him.
The words escaped before he could think, rushed and trembling.

Stephen blinked, the sounds of the surrounding city muffled by a second of pure silence. "What?"

"I like you, okay?" Tony repeated, now lower, almost in a hoarse whisper. "Like... for real. And not in that fake way to fool everyone."

Stephen stared at him, unsure what to say. His heart was racing—from the pain, the shock... and something else he didn't want to admit.

Peter, who had been watching from afar, broke into a huge smile beneath his mask. "Awww, I knew you two were a real couple!" he shouted excitedly, completely bewildered.

Tony and Stephen looked at him at the same time, exasperated. "Not now, Peter!" they shouted in unison.

Tony laughed, his nervousness overflowing.
Stephen, still a little dizzy, ended up laughing too, and for a moment, amidst the chaos and dust, the fear seemed less.

Tony helped Stephen to lean on him.
The wizard was still limping, but he didn't protest when Tony held him firmly.

"Promise that next time we'll pretend to be a couple without almost dying?" Tony murmured, trying to disguise his affectionate tone.

Stephen gave a slight, tired smile. "No promises, Stark."

And even though he was exhausted, Tony knew at that moment that the confession had been real—and that, somehow, Stephen hadn't rejected it.

_______

Back at the tower, the silence was heavy.
Tony's armor opened automatically, revealing a sweaty, pale man with a still-racing heart.
Stephen was sitting on the makeshift stretcher from the workshop, his right leg bandaged and the cut on his forehead already treated, but Tony still couldn't stop pacing back and forth.

Peter watched closely, trying to be helpful, with a first-aid kit in his hands. "Mr. Stark... he seems alright. Well, sort of alright, right?" he murmured cautiously.

Tony looked at him and sighed. "So-so isn't good enough, Peter. He practically turned into magic mush out there."

Stephen looked up, exhausted, but with that patient air that only he possessed. "Tony, I already said... it wasn't anything serious," he tried to reassure him.

"Nothing much?" Tony retorted, his voice rising slightly. "You were almost crushed by an entity that looked like an octopus with a god complex!"

Peter looked away, trying not to laugh. "Oh, you two are arguing like a couple," he commented quietly, more to himself.

Tony froze.
Stephen did too.

The silence that formed was strange, dense, almost palpable.

Tony ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and approached Stephen. "Peter, go get... I don't know, coffee," he said, without taking his eyes off the wizard.

"Coffee?" the boy winked. "At nine o'clock at night?"

"That's it, Peter. Coffee," Tony replied firmly, and the boy understood the message, leaving with quick steps.

As soon as the door closed, Tony took another deep breath.
His heart was pounding, and he felt the reactor vibrate against his chest, as if responding to the tension.

"You could have died today," she began, her voice low but trembling.

"Tony..." Stephen tried to interrupt, but he continued.

"I'm serious." His gaze was firm, yet vulnerable. "I saw you fall, and for a second I thought... that I had lost you."

Stephen swallowed hard, the air trapped in his throat.

Tony gave a nervous half-smile. "And that's when I realized something. That pretending doesn't make sense anymore. That I haven't been pretending for a long time, actually."

“I know this was supposed to be temporary,” Tony continued, his voice growing faster, as if afraid to stop. “I know you agreed out of convenience. But I… I’m not pretending anymore, Stephen. And I need to know if you’re not pretending either, or if I’m just an idiot who misread everything and is about to do the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done in my life. And believe me, I’ve done a lot of pathetic things. I’ve built a robot to be my best friend. I’ve bought an art gallery just to seem cultured to a girl. I’ve worn a velvet suit.”

"Tony," Stephen tried to interrupt, but Tony raised his hand.

The wizard remained silent.
His hands ached, his leg throbbed, but none of that mattered compared to the intensity in Tony's eyes.

"You... like me," he repeated, almost as if testing the phrase.

Tony gave a sheepish chuckle. "Yeah, apparently I have terrible taste in relationships."

Stephen sighed, but a small smile escaped him. "Tony..." he began, but the door suddenly opened.

Peter appeared with a mug in his hands. "Mr. Stark, the coffee—"

He stopped when he saw the scene: Tony standing very close to Stephen, their faces inches away, the air heavy with the impression of something important.

"...I can come back later, right?" he murmured, backing away slowly.

Tony and Stephen looked at each other and laughed together.

_______

The Sanctum was silent, except for the gentle crackling of the fireplace.
Outside, a fine rain fell, tracing slow trails on the glass of the old windows.

Tony was slumped on the sofa, mismatched socks, a blanket thrown over his legs, and his hair disheveled. The kind of scene he would never let anyone see—no one except Stephen.

The magician was reading a book, legs crossed, gaze fixed, but the corner of his mouth betrayed the slight smile of someone who knew he was being watched.

"You're staring," he murmured without looking up.

Tony blinked, caught red-handed. "I'm not," he lied poorly.

Stephen raised an eyebrow, and Tony snorted, chuckling softly. "Okay, maybe a little. But it's hard not to stare when your boyfriend looks like he stepped straight out of a magazine cover."

"Magazine cover?" Stephen closed the book, amused. "Is that your way of saying I look good?"

Tony pretended to think. "No, it's my way of saying it's unfair. You wake up with your hair perfectly styled and looking like you don't need to try. I wake up looking like I've been wrestling with a vacuum cleaner."

Stephen let out a restrained laugh, moving closer until he sat beside him. "I like you just the way you are," he said, simply, but with a sincerity that made Tony look away.

Tony laughed nervously, trying to hide the heat rising in his face. "You really do have questionable taste, doctor."

Stephen simply ran his finger along the edge of the reactor, visible beneath Tony's thin t-shirt. "And yet, I still choose you."

Tony swallowed hard.
He still didn't understand.
How could someone like Stephen—calm, centered, brilliant—want someone like him?

"I just..." she began, but stopped. "It still seems kind of unbelievable, you know?"

Stephen glanced at him sideways, patiently. "Which part?"

"That's it." Tony gestured vaguely between the two of them. "Us. You and me. After everything that's happened... after all the pretending. I keep expecting to wake up and find out it was just another trick."

Stephen placed one hand on Tony's—firm, warm, even with the slight tremor in his fingers.
"I've dealt with too many illusions to confuse one with reality, Tony."

Tony let out a low, emotional laugh. "You're terrible with compliments, you know?"

"And yet you're still around," Stephen retorted, leaning in just enough to rest his forehead against Stephen's.

The world seemed to stop for a moment.
Only the sound of the rain, the warmth of the fireplace, and the rhythmic breathing of the two filled the space.

Tony smiled against his lips. "Maybe I do like magic after all."

"Maybe," Stephen whispered, before kissing him.