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sobeautifullyobsessed · 8 months ago

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'It's Not the Years, Honey - It's the Mileage'

a Whumped Doctor Strange one-shot

Inspired by a couple of pre Multiverse of Madness articles comparing Stephen Strange to Indiana Jones😉😁

genre: whump, hurt/comfort, light humor

rating: general audience

characters: Stephen Strange, Tess O'Neill (Healer of Kamar-Taj, OFC); established relationship; Cloak of Levitation

word count: 1.9k

It was supposed to have been date night, but Stephen was overdue. Three hours overdue. Again. Tess had taken these things in stride, right from the start. After all, you can’t be lucky enough to be the significant other of the Sorcerer Supreme without being incredibly patient, understanding, and flexible. Besides which, he was always so adorable when he finally found his way home, sincere in his apologies, and more often than not, presenting her with a fresh bouquet, which he managed to conjure even before he uttered a single word. Tonight’s transgression was bound to be a two dozen roses mea culpa--and she just knew he’d make them her favorite: pale pink American Beauties.

Not that he ever needed to. His company was dear enough recompense for any time he kept her waiting. Except for the worrying, of course, but Tess had quickly adjusted to that, and so far she hadn’t made any complaint, no matter how late her Stephen managed to show up. She’d rather spend their precious time on more pleasant pursuits--and on showing him however she could, how happy he made her simply by being...him.

And so, Tess had adjusted down their plans. First, from dinner out and a movie, to take-out and the latest blu-ray release. And then from that, to something she could whip up, quick and easy, in the Sanctum’s smaller kitchen. Stephen was bound to be hungry when he arrived, and she had a hearty pot of stew simmering on the stove and a batch of honey cornbread ready to pop into the oven while he cleaned up.

Tess had just given the stew another stir, when she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned to find Cloak looking battle singed and...well...harried. How this being without a face could express such a wide range of emotions was a continual wonder to her--but right now her immediate reaction was to ask if Stephen was alright.

Cloak’s collar shook a clear ‘no’, and then it tugged at her arm, to get her moving. She turned off the stove and moved the stewpot to another burner, and followed Cloak down the grand staircase. And there sat Stephen on the third step, head bowed and shoulders hunched, his bloodstained tunic rent in several places. Tess’s heart leapt to her throat, though she tried to remain calm, realizing that he needed her as a Healer tonight, far more than as the woman who loved him.

She dropped to one knee in front of him, noting that the shelf of his jaw bore a dark bruise, and that he had a nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, a black eye and a split lip. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching her sure hands towards him, studying his wounds with practiced eyes, evaluating which she should address first. Thankfully, the blood on his clothing was dried, so that Tess concluded he wasn’t actively bleeding. “What happened,” she asked quietly, concerned to see him breathe shallowly, as breathing any deeper appeared to make him wince.

“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered, as she placed both of her palms on his chest and closed her eyes, searching for any internal damage.

“Ow...ow...ow...owwwwwwww,” he grumbled, “Is this really necessary?”

Cloak was flitting back and forth, giving the closest approximation of pacing as possible. “It certainly is, as well you know...Doctor.” To that he only grunted, then followed with a heavy groan when she palpated his lower ribs and abdomen. “Stephen,” she informed him patiently, “You’ve got at least three cracked ribs...”

“I know,” he replied curtly, “Don’t you think I know that?”

Tess tried to placate him. “Of course you do--but there’s no need to be pissy about it. It’ll just take a simple healing spell to start them knitting properly together.”

“I...know,” he repeated through gritted teeth, attempting to stand. Cloak had to swoop in to keep him from landing hard on his bottom.

Tess rose and wiped her hands on her denim capris. “Cloak, can you get him up to the infirmary, so I can take care of him properly?”

Cloak nodded, but Stephen had other ideas. “No infirmary--just get me to my room...”

Honestly, doctors really do make the worst patients, she thought, although she held her tongue, telling Stephen instead, “Nope. It’s the infirmary for you.” He huffed, but didn’t speak up. “And that’s Healer’s orders, Stephen. I outrank you in this, at least for the moment...”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively. He handed her his sling ring, “We can portal there--it’ll be quicker and a less bumpy trip than relying on...” He wagged his head in Cloak’s direction.

Tess had to suppress a chuckle, as Cloak’s reaction to that perceived insult was to turn its back to Stephen. “Alright,” she sighed, slipping his ring on and bringing the golden circle to life. She returned to his side and offered him a hand to help him stand up. “Just lean on me, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

She could feel his aversion to appearing so needy, even as he braced himself with an arm across her shoulders, but knew well that it wasn’t on her account. Stephen generally disliked showing weakness to anyone, although as their relationship had blossomed, his trust in her had been enough for him to reveal much of what he hid from the world behind sarcasm and bravado. Tess had always taken such precious trust as both a privilege and an honor. Stiff lipped against his pain and leaning on her heavily, they hobbled through the portal and Tess led him to sit on the nearest bed.

The infirmary was empty but for them, and she took a moment to close the portal, and then rushed to gather her supplies. Disinfectant and a basin of warm water, along with a washcloth and the softest, fluffiest towel she could conjure, for after she got him cleaned up. And bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Tess returned to Stephen’s side to find him struggling to remove his tunic. She set down her things, telling him, “Here...let me...”

“I’ve...got...this.” he grunted, though it was clearly hurting him to raise his arms above his head.

“No. No you don’t,” she corrected him gently, “Please--just let me do my job, Stephen.”

“Alright...alright...” He did his best to relax as she worked the garment over his head and off. Tess gasped at the network of contusions across his shoulders and upper chest. “Dammit, Tess...that hurts!”

“I know, darling. I know.” To her relief, most of his bruises appeared superficial. “Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, okay.” Stephen nooded, and closed his eyes as she washed the cut on his nose, and several shallow scratches on his cheeks and chin, finally seeing to the split on his lower lip.

Next, she addressed the wounds on his back, circling behind him and perching on the edge of the bed. She was relieved again to find that they were rather shallow as well, and made quick work of cleansing them. Tess chose that moment to speak to him as his woman, rather than as a Healer. “You know--you’re extremely fit for a man your age, darling. But it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more careful out there.”

“It’s not the years, honey...” he snorted, “...it’s the mileage...” Stephen had stiffened despite her gentle approach, but when she applied the disinfectant, he hissed out a string of very un-Stephen-like curses.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she muttered, her patience beginning to strain.

“I’m not,” he responded petulantly.

Coulda fooled me, she thought, but bit back that retort. A few minutes more and she had his wounds properly bandaged. Tess set aside the basin and the towel, telling him, “Now let’s see about those ribs. Do you think you can lay back? It’ll be easier that way.”

“Of course I can,” he barked, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

No, you’re just the crankiest Master of the Mystic Arts that I've ever encountered. Bravest and most selfless too, so I suppose I can forgive your churlishness.

He winced when she placed her hands on his shoulders, helping to ease him onto his back. Closing her eyes again, she skimmed her hands above the skin covering his damaged ribs, whispering the charm needed to bolster his body’s natural healing ability. Satisfied that she had succeeded once she could feel the spell take root, Tess pulled her hands away and opened her eyes. Stephen’s were closed, and his face had gone slack with a look of relief. Good enough, she concluded, hoping he would sleep a long while to aid in healing.

Still, she thought she could do a little something to speed the reduction in the nastiest of his contusions--and it would be best to try while he was asleep. She reached tentative fingers to Stephen’s right shoulder. His eyes flew open with a start, “Owwwwww...that’s still tender, you know!”

“I’m just trying to help...”

“Well...I don’t need a nurse anymore,” he groused, “I just want to sleep.”

“If you let me see to these now, you’ll feel much better in the morning...” Tess trailed her fingertips along his jaw, channeling her own energy into relieving his pain. “Any better?”

"A little,” he pouted, “But it hurts...almost everywhere...”

There seemed to be no pleasing him this way--but still, it was her nature to try. Exasperated, she blurted out, “Well, dammit, Stephen--where doesn’t it hurt?”

Looking defiant, he showed her his elbow, “Here.” Tess laid the softest kiss she could upon it.

“And...and here,” he added, pointing to his forehead, his whole demeanor softening in response to her tenderness. Cautiously, Tess leaned in and planted a loving kiss there. Momentum had turned in her favor.

Stephen pointed to his un-blackened eye, “Um...here?”

Tess smiled softly, watching his eyes flutter shut, and then brushed her lips as lightly as she could upon his eyelid. There was a moment as her face hovered over his, and the look when he opened his eyes made her heart start to melt--for within their mercurial depths, she saw both gratitude and an apology for his childish behavior. Stephen tapped his lips and murmured, “Here.”

She wondered if he felt her indulgent smile as their lips finally met, but before too long their kiss had gone from chaste to something deeper and more enduring, as he relaxed completely under her loving ministration. When she finally pulled away, Tess found that her kiss had worked a magic of its own, and her beloved Stephen was out like a light.

Tess arose and draped the sheet across him lightly, then levitated the next bed over and landed it flush against his. Her hunch was that he’d sleep through the night, but she wanted to be close by if he should need her.

Come morning, she awoke to find him gone--can’t keep a good Sorcerer down for long, she mused--but in his place, he’d left three dozen pale pink American Beauties, and a small piece of handwritten parchment. It was brief but to the point:

Thank you, honey. For everything. Love - your Stephen xx

tagging: @hithertoundreamtof23 @stewardofningishzida @ironstrange1991 @mousedetective @aphroditesdilemma @icytrickster17 @groovyqueer @battledress @aelaer @mckiwi @couldntbedamned

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