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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 8 months ago

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It's Mountain March!

A new post for an old(er) fic, since I went to reblog it and it's vanished from my page?!? istg this website...

Cling to the Light (acespec ghouls <3)

Mountain and Zephyr had always known they were different from the other ghouls in the Pit so when they found each other, they clung on tight. Mountain's struggles when Zephyr is banished back to the pit, and with the new feelings he is experiencing for his pack.

Rating: M to be safe, vague allusions to sex but nothing explicit or nswf Content: grey-ace/demi mountain, asexual zephyr, dysphoria/self doubt, heats/ruts, they/them zephyr, discussion of sexual repulsion and associated dysphoria, ghouls in the Pit having unhealthy relationships with sex, character being sent back to pits, Angst, hurt/comfort Words: 4782

In hindsight, I think my writing has got better over the last few months. This fic even improved towards the end imo! But I'm still proud of this, and what it represents for me personally <3

Read below or on AO3!

Mountain and Zephyr had each always known there was something different about them. Growing up in the Pit, they had been anomalies, leading solitary lives, struggling to find connection with other ghouls. In a landscape where battles were fought, allegiances won, and futures decided with sex, they had both felt that the world they had been created in wasn’t for them. When they had seen the opportunity to claw their way topside, it had been an escape to a different life, a reset.

Life on the surface was better, granted. Here they had a purpose and safety, but more importantly they had met each other. Zephyr; slight, fragile, and shy Air ghoul that they were had initially been frightened of the solemn and hulking Earth ghoul. But they had soon come to realise quite how much they had in common with each other after many evenings of retiring to bed early once activities between the other new ghouls had begun getting heated.

Ghouls naturally seek comfort and warmth in each other, and as Mountain and Zephyr became closer, they appeared to Dewdrop, Ifrit and Aether to be developing their own relationship. Monogamous ghouls weren’t unheard of in the Pit, they were certainly a lot more common than solitary ghouls. But whatever relationship the others thought was developing behind closed doors, the reality was far tamer, and yet just as exciting for the pair.

For Mountain and Zephyr, sitting together in the den then going their separate ways each evening had slowly morphed into them staying up late reading together in the comfortable silence of Zephyr’s room, and later Mountain spending the night. In truth, it had taken a long time for either of them to feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed, let alone cuddle together as they now did each night.

Zephyr was entirely repulsed by most sexual activity. They always had been, and yet the physiology of their ghoulish body still put them through the inescapable agony of heats. These times were the worst, as in addition to the physical pain they felt a strong sense of dysphoria coupled with the lingering terror from the Pits of their scent being detected and them being hunted as a conquest.

Mountain was the only ghoul they would allow to help them through it, because he understood in a way the rest of the pack could not relate to as much as they tried. For the others, heats were still painful if ignored, but were free of the emotional pain that accompanied Zephyr’s. Mountain understood, and sought to make sure Zeph always knew that no matter how their body and mind may be betraying them by behaving differently to normal, their feelings were still valid and nothing they did during these times would change anything between them. He brought them tea to try and calm their fraught nerves, and to supress the urges of the heat they hated so much.

For Mountain, he wasn’t actively repulsed by sex in the same was Zephyr was, more just apathetic. Helping Zephyr through their heats the same way a healer would assist someone through a sickness in the infirmary. Together they had figured out what Zeph felt most comfortable with, striking a balance of what their body and mind could handle.

After Mountain’s first rut topside, he would no longer let Zeph be involved. They had offered to help him through it, but even through the haze of hormones he could tell how uncomfortable it was making them, and he had fled to his bathroom to take refuge. After a few more hours of misery, he had sheepishly emerged to ask Aether for help. Now, he knows that any of his other packmates would be more than willing to help him out, and let him direct what he needs and can tolerate.

As Mountain and Zephyr’s own connection had grown, they had eventually both become more comfortable with the other ghouls in their pack. One night after a movie in the lounge, Dewdrop, in his characteristically to-the-point manner, had asked them outright why neither had ever been interested in a physical relationship with their other packmates. After explaining their own feelings as best they could, the pack had embraced this knowledge with open arms and grown even closer as a result.

Things had been a little awkward for them as a newly summoned pack from the Pit: Dew, Aether and Ifrit had never interacted with ghouls who weren’t all over each other all the time, but they had soon come to understand each other. In the Pit, both Mountain and Zephyr had felt like anomalies, but their new pack had worked hard to rectify that feeling. After a while, the three guitarists were able to playfully tease them when they would retire to bed early to drink tea and read together. They would frequently refer to them as the pack’s old married couple, safe in the knowledge that Mountain and Zephyr knew it came only from a place of love.

A year of touring the world had also helped the pack to bond. Many a post-ritual night on the bus had ended in a pile of sleepy ghouls cuddled together in the back of the bus, all too tired to fight over bunks.

Since returning, Mountain had occasionally found himself wanting to sleep with his packmates outside of his ruts. The first time he had these feelings, he had been confused. What did it mean for his special platonic bond with Zephyr?

Zeph had, of course, been wholly supportive. They would do anything to support the pack who had given them everything they could never have dreamed of having in the pit. Even if they would never feel the same way about their packmates that they felt for each other, they found other ways to show them how much they were loved.

After many moons with his pack, Mountain had reached a point where he felt comfortable initiating sex with Ifrit, Aether or Dew, and they with him. He knew that this was how they shared their love for each other, and he was overjoyed to be finally comfortable enough in his own skin around them to be able to show them how much he loved them, in their language. Mountain sometimes still felt put on the spot midway through these encounters, but his pack had become strongly attuned to his tells for when he was uncomfortable and wanted to stop, and when he genuinely wanted to continue but wasn’t taking his own pleasure from it. In these circumstances, Mountain had emphatically explained, he just wanted to make them feel good without the pressure on himself to finish.

He had described it once to Ifrit as “like brushing your teeth or something”, in an attempt to describe it as something neither overtly positive or negative, and Ifrit had almost fallen over laughing. Mountain knew better than to be offended, even when the next day Ifrit had winked at him across the dinner table and asked if he wanted to brush his teeth after eating.

The others tried to understand as best they could, even if they didn't fully get it. The same went for Zephyr. Nowadays, they knew that Mountain was never offended to be asked, and likewise they knew to never be offended to be turned down and offered an alternative pack bonding activity.

The five packmates had found so many other ways to show their love besides intimacy, sharing interests, sweet words, even just existing in proximity to each other. Zeph had introduced everyone to ceramic painting one cold winter's afternoon when they were craving closeness from their pack. Mountain had painted a vase with flowers representing all his pack, and it was unironically Aether's favourite thing in the whole world.

The pack's close bond had been shattered when Zephyr and Ifrit were sent back to the Pit. Zephyr had been deemed too old, not befitting of the Clergy's desired image of young and active ghouls. Ifrit had ruffled too many feathers, and been removed for being too outspoken in the days after Terzo was ripped offstage. The three remaining ghouls had spent their next few days glued to each others sides, their evenings spent huddled together in the den, terrified of another knock at the door and a summons for one of them.

On yet another evening like this, Mountain has his head tucked into the space between Aether’s shoulder and neck, his legs resting across Aether’s with Dew curled up tightly in both their laps, finally sleeping. Overwhelmed by fear, sadness and a desire to be as close to what was left of his pack as possible, he had pressed his lips to Aeth’s collar bone. He had needed to feel the connection to his pack, as the pain of bonds cut loose ate away at him inside and left a hollow, empty feeling. Aether had frozen, the gentle hand rubbing soothing circles into Mountain’s back pausing in its movement.

“Hey, Sapling, we don’t have to do anything, you know we love you without any of that.”

“No, I want to.” Mountain shook his head vehemently, and entwined his tail with Aether’s like a boa constrictor. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re still here.”

Aether turned his head to place a gentle kiss to Mountain’s forehead, humming softly. As he pulled back, Mountain tilted his head up to meet swirling violet eyes. Aether’s love and loss for his pack seemed to be radiating from them behind a film of unshed tears matching Mountain’s own, sucking Mountain into their depths as though to hold him next to his very psyche. In this moment, Mountain couldn’t ever recall feeling such a strong physical pull to his packmates before and slowly leaned in towards Aether, letting him surround all his senses.

Time seemed to slow, as Mountain pressed his rough lips to Aether’s own chapped and bitten ones. It wasn’t like the many romance novels he’d read; there were no sparks. Instead, Mountain felt something far stronger and deeper, a connection more than mere physical contact. In that moment, it felt as though their souls were intertwining, twisting together as their tails did beside them. He felt the tears in his eyes finally spill over and run down his cheeks, but the hot bitterness from before was replaced with a host of new emotions he struggled to name, all condensing to one he was familiar with though: love.

As Mountain moved to deepen the kiss, he let out a breathy noise that he almost couldn’t believe came from him. He could sense Aether’s hesitation, so he pulled back to catch his eyes once more, matching tear-tracks staining his lavender-tinted cheeks.

“I love you, my Moonlight.”

“Oh Sapling…” Aether seemed just as affected as he was, pulling the arm around Mountain tighter, trying not to jostle the sleeping ghoul in their laps. This time, Aether leaned in first, moving at a glacial pace. Mountain closed his eyes, and let himself drown in the sea of emotions once more.

The pair continued to kiss as though the world around them was ending, which wasn’t too far from the truth, until Dewdrop slowly woke from his fitful sleep and smiled to himself at his packmates. He let out a sleepy chirp, and nuzzled his head deep into the warm bodies of his packmates. Mountain broke the kiss to smile down at him and move his arm to pull him securely against his body. Pressed against Aether, with Dewdrop’s comforting weight in his lap, Mountain felt more peaceful than he had since the last Ritual.

Mountain ran the tips of his fingers up Dew’s spine, counting every vertebrae as though to check he was all still there. He tangled his hand in the hair at the nape of Dewdrop’s neck and gently scratched glamoured claws along his scalp the way he knew Dew liked. The little ghoul started up a low purr in response, which must’ve been contagious as Mountain and Aether soon also began to purr in sync. Before long, the evening turned into night and the fire burned low in the hearth, but none of the three ghouls seemed to notice as they fell asleep in a pile of sleepy kisses, soft touches and sweet words.

This was just the first of many nights the trio of ghouls spent curled into each other in front of the fire or in one of their nests, the constant need to touch and know the others were there becoming more desperate over time. Mountain didn’t fully understand where this newfound desire had come from. It felt to him as though his close bond with his packmates was overflowing, that he had to let it out or it would burn him up inside.

After a few weeks, it had become clear that no one else was at imminent risk of being returned to the pit. One of the more respected Cardinals, who had long shown interest in the activities of the Ghost project, had taken over as figurehead and he appeared to have ambitious plans. Aether, Mountain and Dewdrop had already had a few rehearsals with him, trying out new songs, so it seemed their positions were safe for now.

Cardinal Copia had big plans, bigger than Terzo, even. He had announced his intentions early on to introduce live backing vocals, multiple sets of keyboards, and to hold even larger Rituals. Mountain had been sceptical, there had never been this many ghouls in the project, and what did this mean for a pack dynamic? Aether and Dew had been more keen, although Mountain suspected this was in part due to Dew’s switch to lead guitar – he was half fire ghoul after all – and the Cardinal encouraging their playful bickering, suggesting they bring their regular antics to live performances, too.

In the end, it turned out Copia was equally worried that too many new ghouls would fail to integrate into the pack if summoned simultaneously. It would seem that he had had many conversations with the previous Papas about ghoul pack dynamics, and he was keen to ensure his ghouls were as happy topside as they could be. He had even made a point of apologising for the Clergy’s actions regarding Ifrit and Zephyr, and he had seemed sincere. Plans were therefore made to stagger the summoning of new ghouls.

First, a new water ghoul was summoned. They had all agreed that a new bass player was their priority for rehearsals. The night of the next full moon, with torrential rain pounding against the windows of the Abbey, they had gathered in the summoning chambers. Cardinal Copia had spoken the required spells and incantations and a slender, cobalt-skinned water ghoul had clawed their way out of the pits. Even hunched naked on the floor, his eyes darting around in suspicion and sharp fangs bared, the ghoul had exuded a lissom gracefulness.

He was beautiful, Mountain had to admit. This was apparent to all of them, but none more so that to Dewdrop. He had immediately been fascinated by the pretty new water ghoul, the pair spending hours together down at the lake each day. A week into being topside, he was well on his way to integrating into the little pack, bonding with Aether and Mountain too. Mountain had invited him to the greenhouse one afternoon and, beneath his initially prickly exterior, the water ghoul seemed to be a sweet and somewhat shy ghoul. Mountain could however attest to overhearing much evidence to the contrary from Dewdrop’s room late at night.

Seeing how quickly and closely the two had bonded had sparked something within Mountain that felt partly like jealousy, partly still grief from losing Zephyr and Ifrit, but also something like… guilt? He understood for the first time just how much Dewdrop and Aether had lost, losing Ifrit. Mountain found himself feeling conflicted every whenever he spent time with Rain, and pulling away from physical contact with Dew and Aether again.

It didn’t take long for Aether to notice something was up, his quintessence deeply attuned to the emotions of his packmates. One evening, when Mountain had excused himself immediately after dinner, Aether had hunted him down to Zephyr’s old room to find out exactly what was bothering him.

“Mount? Can I come in?” Aether knocked gently. He was met with a non-committal grunt, so let himself in. He found Mountain curled up in one of Zeph’s old hoodies, knees tucked up inside it.

“Oh Sweetheart…” he moved to the bed to scoop Mountain into his arms. “It’s ok to still miss them, you know.”

Mountain nodded silently, letting Aether rock him gently from side to side. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke,

“Was it even real?”

“Was what real, Sapling?”

“Everything! With Zeph… I never had the kind of relationship with them that I do now with you and Dew, but you did with Ifrit. I miss Zeph so much every day that it feels like I’m drowning, but how can I even understand how much more you and Dew must miss Ifrit when you had a real relationship with him?”

“Mountain, listen to me.” Aether tried his best to keep his voice even, even as Mountain’s words made his heart break for the ghoul.

“What you had was real, as real as any relationship I’ve ever seen. You and Zeph were two halves of a whole, you had a deeper relationship than any I could ever hope to understand. Whatever relationship you have now with me and Dew doesn’t devalue what you had with Zeph in any way. It’s different but it’s not any more special.”

Mountain sniffed, burying his face tighter into Aether’s side,

“I miss them so much, Aeth.”

“I know, Sapling.”

The pair stayed curled around each other until Mount was all cried out, and fell asleep the same way.

Next on Copia’s list of summons had been a new air ghoul. This was the summoning they were the most worried about – unlike Rain this ghoul would be a direct replacement of one of the original pack. They had discussed summoning an air ghoul last, however the ritual to summon a multi-element ghoul was by far the most complex and took the longest to prepare, so it had made more sense to summon them last instead.

The first surprise of the summoning was the appearance of a ghoulette. Only once before had the Ghost project had a ghoulette amongst their ranks: they were notoriously resistant to being summoned against their will. The second surprise had been the second ghoulette clinging to the first, a veritable stowaway. It was quickly revealed that the ghoulettes were Mates in the pit and, having heard of the topside activities of the Ministry, had made it their goal to be summoned.

Aether had initially taken the lead on welcoming the ghoulettes, sensing Mountain’s hesitation. It was impossible to ignore the similarities between the new ghoulettes and Zephyr, from their icy blonde hair to the graceful way they held themselves. However, it had soon become apparent that while they were visually similar, the ghoulettes were both very different from Zephyr and each other in personality, and Mountain had made more of an effort to bond with them. This, along with the inherent independence of the ghoulettes and Rain’s fast bond with Dew had been a blessing for Aether, it didn’t take much to see just how tired he was from his self-imposed role in charge of integrating the new pack.

Cirrus, the taller of the two ghoulettes, was outwardly the most confident. She had broken through Mountain’s barriers almost immediately, dragging him out on walks to explore the grounds of the Abbey and asking a million questions about the nature around them. While reluctant at first, Mountain quickly recognized a kindred spirit in their respect for the topside world around them. He found her presence deeply calming, and Mountain grew to consider his afternoons incomplete without them sharing tea in his greenhouse, sometimes with Rain joining them as well.

Mountain had taken longer to bond with Cumulus. While she had appeared to be the shyer of the two at first, once she realised Copia wasn’t about to send her or Cirrus back to the pit she had opened up and become more confident. Mountain was a little intimidated by the short ghoulette: she spoke a million words a minute, and was filled with an enthusiasm for the mundane that Mountain often didn’t feel up to reciprocating. The benefit of this however was her ability to pull Aether out of his shell. Mountain had no idea how she had managed it, but Cumulus’ infectious optimism was able to relax the increasingly shy and withdrawn Aether in a way no other packmate had succeeded in. Mountain had first-hand caught her, and later also Cirrus, slinking into his room late at night to help with just that.

However as the weeks passed and the newly summoned ghouls bonded more and became closer with his original packmates, Mountain found himself feeling more alone once more. He missed Zephyr’s simple comfort more now than ever, and their quiet evenings together just existing in the same space. It hurt to see the others enjoying the same closeness he so deeply mourned. It was especially clear between Dewdrop and Rain where the two seemed to orbit around each other, each on their own path but guided by tremendous forces beyond their comprehension. This time when Mountain began to withdraw again, it was Dewdrop who sought him out.

Mountain was working in the Abbey gardens, when he heard light footsteps padding his way. Looking up, he saw blond hair blowing in the breeze and Dew picking his way through the maze of flowerbeds towards him, clutching a thermos and two mugs.

“Hey Sprout.” He plopped to the ground, cross-legged next to where Mountain knelt, looking at him with his head tilted expectantly. Mountain, sensing this was more than just a casual chat, put down his trowel and also folded his long limbs into a more comfortable position. He accepted the steaming mug from Dew, inhaling the comforting scent.

“Nice to see you out here Droplet, what’s up?”

“Why are you hiding from me and Aeth?” Dewdrop was blunt and to the point, as ever. Mountain sighed into his tea as Dew tilted his head to the side, questioning.

“I’m not avoiding you-” he started, going silent again at the cut the crap look on Dew’s face. “I’m not trying to avoid you?” he suggested instead.

“You don’t even join us all for dinner anymore! Aeth’s been really struggling, and he doesn’t need to worry about you too.”

Mountain hung his head. He knew Aether had been finding the changes difficult, but he thought he’d been feeling better, he didn’t think he had been adding to his stress.

“I’m so sorry Dewbug, I’ve been trying to protect you all from me being so down all the time, and I’ve just made things worse.”

“Oh Sprout, you know you can always talk to us right?” Dew crawled towards him on his knees to wrap him in a hug. “I know how much you miss Zephyr.” Mountain leant his head down on top of Dew’s, comforted by the heat radiating from the smaller ghoul.

“How do you do it, Dew? How have you let Rain in so quickly, when Zeph and Ifrit’s rooms still smell like them and their voices still echo through the den?”

“I don’t think I ever had a choice, Mount. It’s like I was pulled to Rain by a siren’s call, like the second I saw him there in the summoning circle this door opened in my heart to let him in. I never had to think about it, it was so easy.”

“As easy as breathing, right?” sighed Mountain, pulling his arms tighter around Dew, neither noticing or caring as the damp of the grass soaked through their jeans. “That was Zeph…”

“I miss Iffie every day, but it’s not like the hole he left in my heart has gone away or healed, more that it’s grown space for another.” Dew fiddled absently with one of the rings in his ear. “The more acute pain might be healing, but there will always be a hole.”

Mountain hummed in agreement, gently rocking the pair back and forth but careful not to spill the remainders of their cooling tea.

“I am happy for you, you know” Mountain ventured after a while. “You and Rain. It’s like your souls have linked already, you’re good for each other.”

“Like you and Zeph.” Dew looked up at Mountain with wide and sincere eyes, “I saw it. You were soulmates. No one’s expecting you to ever be okay about it.”

Mountain made another noncommittal noise of affirmation. “I’m am sorry for acting so jealous though, just because I miss what you have.”

Dew shrugged, “Don’t sweat it Mount, I’d have been far worse if our positions were flipped.” He chuckled drily, before silence stretched between them again.

Mountain drained the rest of his tea and refilled it from the thermos. “Tell me about Rain, Dew? Tell me how he makes you feel, why you love him?”

“Who said anything about love?” Dew’s cheeks gained a slight coral tint, which he shook his hair to disguise.

Mountain levelled him with a look, eliciting a small giggle from Dew before he began talking.

“Well…”

That evening, once the sun had set and Mountain and Dew had finally traipsed back inside to find dry clothes and warm food, Mountain had set out to locate Aether and forcibly extract him from whatever task he was overworking himself with. He had found him in Copia’s office, going over the paperwork for the summoning request for the final new ghoul. Mountain had nodded politely at the Cardinal, grabbed Aether by the hand, and silently pulled him from the room, his tail coming up to bat the pen from his hand.

Mountain led him back to the den, tugging him through the corridors, not letting go until they reached the door to Mountain’s room. He looked back at Aether, unspoken question clear in his eyes. Aether nodded, and Mountain held the door open for Aether to enter. Mountain moved to sit in the pile of furs of his nest, and beckoned Aether to join him. He pulled Aether into his chest, gently knocking their horns together and entwining their tails.

“What’s all this about, Grasshopper?” Aether was the first to break the silence.

“You work too hard Aeth, you need a break. I’m sorry I’ve been so checked out, I promise I’ll be here for you and the pack from now on.”

“I’m fine, I just–”

Mountain cut him off with a small, chaste kiss. Aether looked up, violet eyes meeting green, and Mountain offered him a small smile in return.

“Enough, my dear Evening Primrose. We’re pack, even if I haven’t acted like it recently. But that means we share our burdens, and you’ve been carrying them all. Let me take care of you, now.”

As Mountain drifted off to sleep that night, with a purring Aether still wrapped in his arms, he felt at peace for the first time in months. He had pack who loved him, and he had purpose in loving them. The rest could follow.

With the summoning of the new ghouls, Mountain hadn’t felt the physical pull to them that he did to his existing packmates. Even now, that still grew and fluctuated day by day. However, he had come to realise that the biggest difference between these new summonings and his own was that there was no longer a feeling of wrongness. He understood that he didn’t feel that attraction right now, he possibly never would, but now he could explain things in time.

This time, he knew how deeply he was loved, and how deeply he could love, even if it wasn’t in the way that was initially expected of him. And now he understood that no new love could ever replace or invalidate his bond with Zephyr; each of his relationships with his packmates are as different as the ghouls themselves are. He will never forget Zephyr, the wounds of their banishment may never fully heal. However his love for them will always remain a fundamental truth, regardless of their separate futures or if their paths ever cross again.

And if he starts to feel something for the handsome new multighoul… well, he knows that if he leans into those feelings, his heart can only grow bigger.

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 4 months ago

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Magic and Madness - Chapter Six

To Understand Everything is to Forgive Everything.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Stephen has a job to do, and it almost destroys him. Where else can he go for comfort?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2388

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Avoidance, GSW, ED mentions, alcoholism, internalised homophobia, self-doubt, self-blame, smuuuuut.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes chapters seventeen and eighteen - I recommend starting there if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (5/46) Next Chapter (7/46) ->

I avoided the compound like the plague.

The announcement of Natasha's plurality came of very little surprise to me – delivered, as it was, by a video call with Bruce. He didn’t ask why I refused to attend the meeting, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

I couldn’t face the man who had so unceremoniously dismissed me after almost two days of careful touches and hesitant kisses.

My hands shook whenever I thought about the look on his face when he glanced at me – the pure revulsion and desperation I found in his hollow gaze.

Despite my remorse, though, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. It had been a glorious, if short-lived, experience. My only sorrow was that it had, by all accounts, left him drowning himself and finding solace at the bottom of a bottle.

I tried to be surreptitious in my probing – simply asking after the team when someone reached out to me, clarifying individual members – Tony included – when they weren’t detailed. Nat, in her rare correspondence via video, always made sure to talk about him first, and was by far the most candid.

I got the call in the evening a few weeks after I absconded, phone ringing out , shrill in the darkness. Steven's panicked explanation was accompanied by a backing track of Nat’s staccato, desperate whimpers as I dressed hurriedly, throwing on the first thing my hands reached for – a painfully familiar hooded sweatshirt that still smelled faintly of sex and aftershave.

Wreathed in an agonising comfort, I stepped through to the hospital.

You know I’ve done this too many times when they don’t even look up anymore. A little wonder would be nice.

“What is it this time, Dr. Strange?” My head nurse sighed as she spoke, eyebrow raised in surprise as she glanced at me. “... You look like hell, Stephen.”

“Thanks, Clarissa,” I snapped, rolling my eyes as I smoothed my hair. “GSW to the lower left quadrant. No known spinal implication, and there’s an exit wound. Patient is showing transient consciousness. ETA four minutes. Is there a team free?”

She nodded quickly, pushing herself to her feet. “Yes, Doctor. You got lucky; it’s been a hectic day. OR two is available.”

I nodded sharply, pacing impatiently as I waited. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I wondered if he would be there.

My question was answered as they barrelled through the door, Tony’s hands pressed to the wound in the archer’s side. “BP is 83 over 54 and falling fast. GCS eight, oxygen steady – mostly. Pulse 73 and dropping. Looks like the bullet fragmented after penetration.”

I motioned Nat away quickly, her eyes wide as she trembled, and offered her a quick smile. “I’ve got to get him into surgery. I’ll do what I can, Natash- Nat. I’ll do my best.”

Five hours and six minutes.

His insides were shredded by the shrapnel, and while I lived up to my promise, I hated that I couldn’t do more. My forehead found the wall as I sobbed softly, mourning the parts of the archer I couldn’t save.

But I had a job to do.

So I simply scrubbed a hand over my face and peeled off my bloodied gown, unable to stop the spark of anger that drove me to throw it violently into the contaminant trashcan, jaw set.

I should have done more. I should have been better.

I should have been there. Maybe I could have made a difference.

Natasha was curled on the floor, pressed against the wall, blood trickling through the fingers pressed to her ribs as she stared blankly into the distance. I sighed as I approached, steeling myself. “Let me take a look at you.”

“… Wh… What?” she murmured, blinking owlishly up at us, and I inclined my head toward the blood under her hand, jaw twitching. “I said, ‘Let me take a look at you’.”

She blinked again, blank and disinterested. “We’re fine. How’s Clint?” I offered her a wry smile and an extended hand, pity tugging at my heart. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Clint had a lot of internal damage. A lot. I’ve patched him up as best I could, but…” I sighed guiltily as I slid the needle through the edge of her wound, but she showed no reaction. “You’re lucky he was in front of you. You would likely have lost your lung, but instead it just broke the rib.”

“Lucky,” she scoffed, eliciting a flinch.

“He’s not come around yet. He… We had to perform an ileostomy. There wasn’t enough intestinal tissue left to salvage. He’s been fitted with a bag – if he… That will be permanent,” I added softly, jaw tight with remorse.

I should have been there.

She winced, glancing up. “Will he wake up?”

I hesitated only briefly, the loss of concentration bringing a faint tremor back to my hands. “We don’t know. He lost a lot of blood and sustained significant injuries. He underwent massive transfusions. The fact that he survived surgery is reassuring, but…” I sighed again, head shaking. “I’ve had this conversation too many times lately.”

When she glanced at me curiously, I offered her a weak, shaky smile. “I said almost the exact same thing to Clint, when it was you that may not wake up.”

I spent two weeks in my own alcohol-driven despair, wracked with remorse and selfish thoughts of comfort found in his embrace.

He’d tell me I tried my best. He’d tell me there was nothing more I could do. He...

No.

He’d tell me I repulse him, and that I am wrong.

Two weeks of long and suffering silence was all it took for Clint to start to come around, and I got the call to return. I’d checked on him daily, but they thought I’d like to be the one to break the news to him.

I can’t imagine anything worse.

But the archer, to my wonder, was impassive, seemingly unphased by this permanent alteration to his life, despite my immense shame and guilt.

The only person who seemed to struggle as much as I was Natasha herself. Chained to his bedside, I’d watched her grow steadily more gaunt, refusing all but water – and even that had to be administered intravenously. Not a single morsel or drop passed her lips during her silent vigil, and the weight began to drop from her frame once more.

A quiet word with Bruce when they eventually returned to the compound confirmed my worst suspicions – that she was, once again, skirting danger.

Bruce desperately argued that her weight was holding steady, but I could only snort. “You don’t believe that any more than I do, Banner. We need to find out how this is happening – before it’s too late. And ‘too late’ is approaching far too rapidly.”

The day she ended up being taken, unconscious and severely underweight, I broke.

When I appeared in his bedroom, he was lay with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

“… Hi. I know I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be here. I just…”

He nodded slowly, extending an arm to me with a quiet sigh. “Come here, baby boy.”

The name broke me, and I sobbed, falling down beside him and weeping desperately against his chest. “I should have done better. I should have done more. I…”

Shushing me gently, his fingers caressed my back as he held me close. “You did amazingly, honey. You did better than anyone else could have done. None of this is your fault, do you hear me?”

“I knew she was struggling. I knew that something wasn’t right. But I left it to Bruce, and I… I should have spoken to her. Helped her. This is all my fault. I’m not… Fuck, I’m such a… Fuck.”

He brushed his lips against my forehead, pulling me nearer. “Sweetheart, you did everything you could. You were incredible.”

“You never called,” I whispered into his chest, voice cracking. “I thought you hated me.”

He snorted weakly, shaking his head. “You? Never. Myself? Well… That’s a different matter entirely."

“I hate that I made you feel like that.”

“Not you, baby boy. Never you. I… I’ve missed you, Stephen. So much,” he muttered into my hair, fingers tightening against my spine.

“I’ve never hated myself quite so much as I do for what I said to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

I pushed my face through my tears to claim his mouth with mine, hands curling in his hair desperately. “Show me how sorry you are.”

“Aren’t you going to ask-”

“I already know you’re sober, Tony. I’m surprised and impressed.”

“I’ve been sober since Clint’s accident. I… I wanted to prove I can do it. Before I reached out.”

I purred happily, pulling him closer. “Fuck me like it’s you last night on this earth, Stark.”

He raised an eyebrow with a snort, dragging my shirt over my head. “You got it, baby boy.”

I lay in his arms as he smoked, and I scowled. “You shouldn’t substitute one vice for another, love.”

“One makes me significantly less of an asshole than the other, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you also have a ‘no smoking in the building’ rule?”

“It’s my building, who’s going to tell me off? You?” he added with a smirk, and my fingertips trailed his hip lightly, humming with delight at the hard lines I’d missed touching.

“Sounds fun. I might be into that.”

He barked out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. “Doctor Strange, you never cease to amaze.”

I arched an eyebrow, fixing him in my gaze. “Mr. Stark, I am a surgeon who tried to micromanage his own surgery, despite the fact that I would be profoundly unconscious for the procedure. I am nothing if not authoritarian.”

He purred and tugged me nearer, fingers curling around my back to drag me atop him. “Oh, yeah? I seem to remember you being pretty submissive every time I’ve made you beg...”

Smirking, I took his hands from my hips and pinned them over his head, delighting in the soft gulp the motion elicited, pressing my body against his. “You assume I couldn’t make you do the same?”

“Y-You gonna boss me around?” he stammered, back curving minutely against me as he blushed.

I hummed playfully, tongue trailing the length of his jaw. “... Not yet. Maybe when it’s my turn to fuck you.”

He stiffened, and I winced.

Fuck. Why would I say that?

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m scared,” he ground out quietly, gaze flicking away as he reddened.

I released his wrists and lay over him, watching him with my chin beside the glowing light of his reactor. “... What are you scared of?” I pressed softly, and he grimaced minutely.

“I... I’m not sure. I’m scared it’ll hurt. I’m scared I won’t be... Clean. I... I’m... I know this isn’t exactly straight, but I’m scared that if it’s me that gets... I’m scared that it’s just, y’know, more... g-gay.”

The last word was a pained, shameful whisper, but my heart throbbed proudly.

He’s never said it before. No matter how drunk, or sober, or angry.

He’s never said it.

“Do... Should I talk you through your fears? Or do you just want acknowledgement?” I asked quietly, fingers dancing across his collarbone, and he nodded shyly.

“I-I guess you can... Try and help.”

Smiling fondly, I kept my gaze on him as I thought. “Well... You saw – pretty intimately – my first time. Did I look like I was in any pain?” He shook his head reluctantly, and I pressed a kiss to his chest. “It was... Unusual. A little uncomfortable, at points, but that very quickly gave way to...” I swallowed dryly, cheeks heating. “You’ve seen what you do to me, Tony. It’s... The best I’ve ever felt. By far. By far.” My light shiver made his smirk, hands shifting to caress my back gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever had- No, let me try again. I have never, by far, had so much sex in such a short period of time. And I still want more.”

He grinned at last, palms finding my ass pointedly. “I’m happy to stop this conversation and give you more, baby boy.”

Heart fluttering, I did, admittedly, hesitate thoughtfully before I shook my head. “I’d rather make you feel better... At least first.” He rolled his eyes, but nodded, and I purred. “As for... I mean, it’s not a big deal either way. But there’s ways you can... prepare. Which I could talk you through, but I’m concerned for your blood pressure if I say any more about that,” I teased as his face turned crimson. “But... I’ve never bothered, and we’ve never had a problem, right?” He shook his head slowly, and I grinned, kissing his cheek. “Exactly.”

His jaw tightened in anticipation, eyes drifting further from mine. “As for the last... Tony. My dear, sweet, darling Tony. If you’re straight, all your sex is straight sex, regardless of how you do it. And the same is true for gay people, and bisexuals, and all the other myriad of sexualities out there. It's not more or less of what it is depending on how it’s done. If you’re gay, then you’re gay, and that’s fine. You’re not extra gay if you decide you want to... Be fucked,” I finished, blushing lightly. He was trembling at my words, still unable to meet my gaze, but he licked his lips dryly.

“I’m gay.”

I couldn’t help the blink of surprise, but buried it in a gentle kiss, nipping his lip lightly. “As am I, sweetheart.”

“It... That’s why I never settled down.”

“I tried. I loved her, I truly did, but... She was the only one.”

“I’m... I’m ready to settle down, Stephen,” he added softly, gaze flicking to mine at last. “With you.”

“I... You... Wh... Huh?”

He swallowed again, leaning forward to kiss me lightly. “I want to be yours, Stephen. And I... I want you to fuck me.”

God forgive me, but I am going to commit every sin. Send me to hell if you must; I’ll go with a smile.

The whine that eked from my lips was indecipherable, and he grinned softly. “Stephen Strange... Please fuck me.”

... ... ...

Yes.

Yesyesyesyesyesyes-

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