Doctor Stephen Strange

Master of the Mystic Arts || exclusive RP account with soulstonehq

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THE DOCTOR IS IN EXTRA™ || masquerade look

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doctor-bruce-banner:

Bruce hated feeling like this, like he was on some kind of precipice, or rather that he’d just thrown himself off of one and he was about to fall indefinitely.  He trusted Stephen, he really did, in ways that he wasn’t able to trust very many other people.  He wouldn’t have been able to say any of that if there wasn’t that base of trust there.  Bruce could trust that Stephen wouldn’t abandon him after that, but beyond that…  Bruce couldn’t imagine anyone would want to hear that and still want to build anything serious with him.  Too many skeletons in the closet.  A path littered with too much quicksand, all of the little triggers that led Bruce from being one man to being another. He heard Stephen’s voice at first as if it was far away, but then realized just how close that voice was now, looking down into Stephen’s eyes and seeing nothing in them that felt like an accusation, or disgust, or anything that Bruce might have expected from most people.  There was just his own hurt reflected back at him and for some reason that made Bruce feel like trembling even more than he was a few moments ago. “Stephen, I-” he started to say but the words fell away quickly when he felt Stephen’s hands, those beautiful hands, on his face, carefully sweeping away the tears that Bruce barely even felt. No, he was too focused on Stephen’s words and the way he said them with such conviction.  It wasn’t something that Bruce was apt to believe, nothing that he wanted to, but God, the urge to was there, right there, pressing hard against his chest.  It made him lean into Stephen just a little more, taking a deep and shaking breath and pressing his forehead lightly against Stephen’s.  The tears had fled, thankfully, and now Bruce was working on getting that tremble worked out of his body, impossibly soothed by the sound of Stephen’s voice.  "Maybe you’re right,“ he said softly and felt something that had been so tight in his chest loosen just a little.  But enough.  Bruce felt like maybe he hadn’t taken a deep breath in years, and now he was, a rush of oxygen to the brain, making him feel almost unreal.  How could any of this be real?  This man, beautiful, intelligent, tragic yes in his own right, but so incredibly strong, couldn’t really still want to be here.  With him, like this. But then he felt Stephen’s hand warm and solid on the back of his neck and he sighed, a shaking sort of sigh that felt like something was rattling lose.  "In fact, I’m almost sure you’re right, it’s just so hard to-”  He lifted his eyes to Stephen’s, pulling his head back just a little so he could look more surely into Stephen’s eyes.  "Or maybe I’m just so used to blaming myself for everything that it’s become a bit of a habit,“ he said and let out a soft self-deprecating kind of laugh.  "It’s easier in a way.  Than dealing with the fact that there’s some small part of me, somewhere, that still…”  Bruce let that thought die, unfinished, maybe the only thing he wasn’t willing to admit yet.  Maybe someday.  And truly Stephen would be the only one he could imagine admitting it to.  But not…not this moment.  No, Bruce was feeling the pain and fear roll away from him like the tide was going out, less and less and less until it was nearly gone completely.   More than that, Bruce found a smile somewhere, lingering, something soft and almost hopeful that started to lift his lips.  "I don’t feel so irredeemable when I’m with you,“ he said, the words soft, tender nearly, as he reached out and tucked a lose strand of Stephen’s longer hair behind his ear and then let his hand linger there, fingers curling against Stephen’s scalp.  There wasn’t anything grand or sweeping or romantic about the way Stephen said he wanted him, and that was perhaps what made Bruce feel like the world had shifted in some impossible way more than anything else.  It was just so matter of fact, like it was something that had been written in stone for awhile now, something indelible.  That and the sure look in Stephen’s eyes, the unwavering kind of honesty in his eyes made Bruce feel caught, that feeling of falling cut down in its tracks.  I want you, he replayed again in his own mind and knew he’d never heard that and known it to be so true, since no one else had gotten underneath Bruce’s skin enough before to even get close to the whole story.   Bruce didn’t think himself a rash man, he did his best to be even and measured, to play the odds, to over think every single action he made to make sure he wasn’t toeing the line.  But now, this moment, hearing that…  Bruce felt something rise in his chest, a need that couldn’t be ignored.   And for once he didn’t overthink, he didn’t let himself, curling his hand more solidly to cup Stephen’s cheek leaning in and pressing his lips to Stephen’s, gentle but sure.  It didn’t matter for a moment that Bruce was nervous about it since it had been far too long since he’d kissed anyone like this, or that maybe the timing wasn’t the most perfect.  It was a kiss but also a kind of promise.  To try.  An answering of that want too, the kind that Bruce found trouble voicing.  Though a moment later he was pulling back, licking his lips unconsciously and leaning his forehead against Stephen’s again.  "I suppose,” he said, and heard a nearly breathless quality in his voice.  "You could say I want you too.  Enough to not care so much about what’s best for you,“ he said, something almost teasing in his voice, trying to cover for the nerves that were now starting to grow inside of him just a moment to late.  He smiled then, and leaned in to kiss Stephen once more, softly, just a barely there press of lips that still made something wild flutter inside of Bruce, things that he thought were left for those that were much, much younger.  “I’m sorry if that was too soon, or not the right-  I just couldn’t…stop myself.”

Maybe later and with a little hindsight Stephen would have the chance to appreciate with some amusement how their roles had flipped in that moment, seeing as how Stephen, so often impetuous, was the one holding back out of concern for pushing boundaries he wasn’t sure he should yet. It wasn’t that he thought of Bruce as vulnerable or even skittish; this conversation had done nothing if not impress upon Stephen just how astonishingly tenacious this man sitting in front of him was, so much more so than himself who had in his past refused with such petulance to meet his troubles head-on. There was an equal measure of surprise in Stephen that Bruce could know what he now did and not dismiss Stephen as the immature egotist he still assumed himself to be, and maybe he hadn’t believed it, not quite, until he felt that careful but genuine press of Bruce’s lips against his own. The sincerity in that single kiss was startling; overwhelming, even, in comparison to the multitude of first kisses he’d had in the past.

Stephen barely had time to process that Bruce had echoed his sentiment -- I want you, too -- before Bruce’s lips were brushing over his again, the pleasant roughness of his stubble about the only thing able to convince Stephen this wasn’t some sort of daydream. “I-- no, yeah. Please don’t-- definitely don’t stop,” Stephen all but whispered before he let out a breathless laugh at how much of a coherent sentence that wasn’t, and how little he cared. He cared even less for their surroundings, public though they might be even if the hour was getting late, and without having to think about it he took Bruce’s face in his hands again and leaned in for another kiss. It held a lot of that same earnestness even as Stephen couldn’t help but let just a spark of intensity creep in, wanting to show as much as say the different ways he wanted him, wanted to be with him, the realization in that and the insistence of the kiss both enough to suck the air clean out of his lungs.

It was only with some hesitance and that inconvenient, pesky need for breath that Stephen broke away after a moment -- not that he went far, instead resting their foreheads together again and bumping his nose to Bruce’s with distinct affection and distraction, his teeth catching the corner of his own lip in a smile. “At this point I’m really getting the impression that you’re what’s best for me, whether you like it or not, and... I guess we’ll just have to try and unlearn blaming ourselves for everything together,” Stephen murmured with a ghost of a chuckle, his hand moving to brush through some of Bruce’s charmingly mussed curls to settle at the nape of his neck again. He was certain Bruce could feel the way his hands were trembling but found that he didn’t care, that it didn’t conjure up any of the usual self-consciousness that normally kept him from touching anyone else. At this moment there wasn’t really any more vulnerable that Stephen could get, and it was wholly petrifying and exhilarating.

Whatever Bruce left unsaid in that one sentence he didn’t finish Stephen didn’t mind, and certainly didn’t begrudge him as much; they’d both said more than enough for one evening, he was convinced, and now all he cared about was seeing that smile on Bruce’s lips again. Stephen pulled away only enough to bring Bruce back into focus in the dim light, his thumb sweeping a brief, uncharacteristically tender path across Bruce’s lower lip. “... thank you,” he said softly, finally, hoping the look in his eyes could convey more of the depth and meaning behind those two words than he could manage verbally. “For trusting me with all of that. I know it wasn’t easy and I don’t know what I did to earn that level of confidence with you, but I… I’m not going to take it for granted. You’re too important to me for that.”

[arcanum-exo]

You gonna go to that party? You think my raccoon could go?

“I’m planning on going, but I… do not think you should bring your raccoon, no.”

[arcanum-exo]

PROM? || Stephen & Bruce

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence these days for Stephen to find himself able to steal a quiet moment in Bruce’s office while waiting for him to finish with a mid-day appointment, his fingertips running along the spines of the numerous medical texts on the bookshelves. It was a life he missed -- which was exactly why Stephen tried not to think too much or too often about it, even if he could garner a certain measure of second-hand nostalgia from Bruce’s office. Uncertain how long he might be when a number of his clients seemed to like to keep him well over time, Stephen eventually selected a book from the shelf with which to distract himself.

Leaning casually at the edge of the desk with legs crossed at the ankle, Stephen was paging through a well-loved copy of Gray’s Anatomy when he heard the door open and glanced up with a slow grin. “Hey. Surprise,” he said in a tone that suggested his presence was likely not a surprise at all, even if he hadn’t bothered to text or call ahead. Closing the book with a snap before he set it aside on a stack of Bruce’s papers, Stephen reached a hand out towards him with an automatic ease and without straightening up from his lean against the desk. “I think I’ve charmed your receptionist with frequent enough cups of coffee that she doesn’t seem annoyed with me showing up unannounced anymore. We may even manage to be on a first-name basis someday.”

@doctor-bruce-banner

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michelle-x-jones:

She was taken aback by his offer, definitley not expecting it since she’s the one that owed him for rescuing the dog in the middle of the night. “Oh no, I don’t wanna like– put you out, or anything,” she insisted.” Plus, I think Christensen would have a heart attack if she caught me in one of your sweatshirts. Then some poor soul would be stuck taking care of her demon dog.” That was a fate Michelle wouldn’t wish on even her worst enemies. “I can just take a cab, but uh… is it cool if I come back and check on him at some point? I’ve got a thing at the community center in the morning, but after that I can come help with anything he needs.”

“Okay,” Stephen agreed with a chuckle, not about to argue the point where Mrs. Christensen and her gossip were involved. His expression softened again when Michelle asked if she could swing by to check on the dog tomorrow, that being something of a welcome change from so many people who were keen to drop injured animals off and not have to deal with them again. “Yeah. Of course. I had an appointment cancel at two-fifteen, I’ll leave a note for the receptionist that I’m expecting you.”

Remembering he’d abandoned his cell upstairs on the bed, Stephen grabbed the phone on the counter instead before remembering to gesture towards the door of the exam room. “There’s a wash-up station out the door to the left,” he offered, now that he’d filled the sink in here with the aftermath of their hurried work. While Michelle was taking care of that Stephen called the cab for her, hanging up with a sigh when she reappeared in the doorway. “Okay, Mike is on his way. Just tell him where you need to go and he won’t charge you.” Being such a frequent customer of the local cab company had its perks -- like getting to know the drivers (whether he wanted to or not), and the ability to keep a running tab he could pay off later.

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michelle-x-jones:

Michelle jumped a bit as the tools clattered against the tray, watching cautiously as Stephen stepped back from the table. She muttered some sort of acknowledgment before wrapping the second wound as instructed. The news that the dog was most likely going to be okay was a relief. It sent air back into her lungs as Michelle allowed herself to properly exhale for the first time since the whole mess started. “You know, I’ve been better. Not gonna lie. I’ve seen better days,” she shrugged lightly. She had to look like a hot mess. But Michelle didn’t want to think about the stains on her shirt, under her fingernails, engrained in her mind. Instead she paid attention to the feeling of the dog’s fur beneath her hands as she stroked gently behind his ears. “But hey, so has this guy, I’m guessing. And he’ll be alright, thanks to you. So. Thanks for that. And for sleeping with your ringer on.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” Stephen let out a quick breath that was almost a laugh with the faint smile that accompanied it, pushing one unsteady hand through his hair. “I was going to tell you earlier that you could’ve just used the emergency line that’s posted, but I guess… the end result was the same.”

He hesitated there with a newfound sense of awkwardness now that the imminent concern had passed and the 3AM adrenaline was starting to wear off, watching Michelle with the dog for a moment before he moved to gather and set aside the used instruments and the bloody gauze, at least, if not bothering to clean up entirely. That was a problem for the morning. “Listen, at the risk of coming across as terribly creepy, you’re welcome to come up to my apartment to clean up and borrow a sweatshirt. If that’s too weird, let me at least call you a cab,” Stephen offered as a follow-up, turning to lean tiredly against the counter and face her, belatedly remembering he was only in his pajamas, himself. “I’m not going to let you walk home at… whatever time it is, not after the help you’ve been. You’re just as responsible for the fact that he’ll be okay,” he pointed out, with a brief gesture to the sleeping dog on the table.

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doctor-bruce-banner:

Bruce felt like half the reason he didn’t like to talk to anyone about his past was the fact that he didn’t like people trying to comfort him.  Maybe because a part of him felt like he deserved to live with the pain, or maybe it was just because he didn’t like the attention, preferring to fade into the background.  But that feeling, of being on display in a way, he didn’t feel it now.  He felt Stephen’s hand on the back of his neck and let out a breath that was close to a shudder, closing his eyes for a moment and nearly leaning into the weight of it.  "I still wonder,“ Bruce said softly, not opening his eyes, not yet.  "I still wonder if it all really was me.  Before I came around, they…from what everyone had said, the home movies, they were just so…happy.  It was like having me around flipped some kind of switch.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head, finally opening his eyes and lifting his head when Stephen started to talk, knowing it was the truth, even if it was one that he didn’t necessarily want to swallow.  "Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so clever.  I think life would be a little easier that way,“ he said, matching the faint smile on Stephen’s face.  He had a hard time believing that changing thoughts wouldn’t lead to changing feelings, but there was so much sincerity in Stephen’s face.  "I..” he started to say but then trailed off, feeling something in him deflate a little, like something heavy had been lifted off his shoulders albiet momentarily when he felt the press of Stephen’s thumb behind his ear.  It was easy for a moment to just concentrate on that other than everything else.  Other than the things he should be saying, the things he should be doing.  "Sometimes I feel like all I have is ghosts.  Maybe with Betty too, she never really…she couldn’t push through them.  Her life was just so…she was charmed, really.  I couldn’t bear to let her in to the hardest parts because she was…I don’t think she could ever understand that kind of darkness.  I think her father knew that too, and that’s why he hated me as much as he did.“  He gave Stephen a small smile.  "It’s not a sense of obligation, not really.  It’s…I have to stop hiding sometime.  My biggest regret when Betty died was that I never really let her know who I really was.  I didn’t trust her with it.  I didn’t give her the chance.  I don’t want to feel like that again.”  

Bruce finally took a deep breath and tried to pick it back up, eyes flicking away from Stephen’s face again, trying to find the track of thought where he lost it. “My father- No one in the criminal justice system found it all that unforgivable, he was out by the time I was in my early twenties,” Bruce said.  "I was…better, I guess by then.  I wasn’t the angry kid that considered building a bomb to blow up the high school anymore at least,“ Bruce said, his eyes darting back to his hands.  He paused there, feeling a kind of sick roll of his stomach, knowing just how close he’d been then, fifteen and furious at everyone and everything and wanting just one person, somewhere to feel the kind of anger and fear that he felt every single moment.  "I was with Betty then, we’d just…”  Bruce found something of a faint smile.  "We’d just gotten married, as a matter of fact.  I thought I had effectively put everything behind me and changed for the better, and all of a sudden, he was just…out.“

He ran his fingers through his hair.  "I was working then, in Boston, building a pretty good reputation for myself, but that- everything crashed down.  That was when I really started drinking.  I had avoided it for so long, but then I…”  Bruce shook his head.  "Maybe it was some kind of punishment for myself.  To pour myself down the same hole he lost himself down.  Either to prove I was a better man and it wouldn’t make me the man it made him, or just to see if we were exactly the same, I don’t know.“  Bruce pursed his lips.  "I was never stupid enough to show up to work drunk, but when I wasn’t there, I was.  Enough to frighten Betty, at least.  It got worse the closer I got to the anniversary of my mother’s death.  I ended up taking a sabbatical, and I left Betty in Boston and went back home.”

The air was starting to feel thick, and Bruce knew it was just some psychosomatic manifestation of his own burgeoning emotions, but it felt so hard to breathe all of a sudden and he squeezed his fingers a little harder into Stephen’s knee, solid reassurance that he hadn’t taken off.  Yet, at least.  "My father was there.  At her gravesite, the day of her death.  I hadn’t seen him for so long and he…he didn’t even look different.  A little grayer at the temple’s maybe, but when he saw me, it was that same kind of smile, like he’d finally cornered some animal and was about to-“  Bruce swallowed.  "It was the first time I ever yelled at him.  Fought back.  It was probably because I was drunk, really, without better faculties to, uh, keep me in check.”  Bruce clenched his free hand into a kind of a fist for a moment,  remembering the feeling.  "He didn’t come prepared to fight a grown man.  I…suppose we both got our licks in well enough, but I…“  Bruce looked down.  "He cracked his neck on a headstone after I shoved him into it.”  There was something dark in his voice now, thick.  "You said before that there were times when not any amount of training would help.  That…that wasn’t the case here.  I could have done something.  I knew exactly what to do, stabilize the break, oxygenate the heart until someone could-“  He could hear the lapping of the lake in the distance and that was the only thing that made Bruce feel like he might still be sane, because there were no lakes where he grew up.  "I didn’t do any of it.  I stood there and watched him die.  It took awhile too.  They…they didn’t even call it self defense, later.  An accident.  They barely even questioned me about it, because who cares about an ex-con that beat his kid and murdered his wife?  Good riddance, right?”

He laughed a little then, darkly.  "I murdered my father, there’s no…there’s no long or short to that.  I even tried to tell them that, but no one wanted to hear it, figuring I was just a traumatized kid.  Betty came to get me, and I..god I was really on one that night, I’m surprised I didn’t black out, sitting there in this shitty hotel room having drank everything out of the minibar and sitting at the sink washing my hands over and over again like some fucked up Lady Macbeth.  And Betty she…so many details of that night are so far away, so dim, but that…She grabbed my arm and she shook me and I-“  Bruce bit hard at the inside of his cheek.  "I lifted a hand and I nearly-”  Bruce shook his head.

He cast sad eyes back to Stephen, the smile on his face hardly a smile, more of a grimace mascaraing as a smile.  "That was when I stopped drinking, that night.  You…I am a monster, maybe not in the way I could be, I was able to stop, but I have it inside of me.  It’s in there.  DNA, or some kind of sick fate that visits the father upon the son, it’s there.  It won’t go away.  It’s just a part of who I am.“  He shrugged weakly.  "Betty she…God, she barely even recognized how close I was, how I…she was really too good for me, the whole time.  But I vowed to be better for her, to make up for it in some kind of way.  And then not a year later, she got sick, died on some operating table.  Liver cancer, of all things, didn’t touch a drop more than champagne at our wedding and she gets liver cancer.”

Bruce had said all of that, most of that in a kind of thick monotone, just small variances, trying to distance himself from all of it a little.  But there was no doing that, not for real, and he finally shuddered, a sound very close to a sob on his breath before he was able to choke it back, a kind of trembling coming over him suddenly, despite how he did his best to push it back.  "I didn’t really come here to start over,“ he said, and even his voice was trembling just a little now.  "I came here to hide.  I’ve been hiding for so long."  Bruce squeezed Stephen’s knee and looked up to him, feeling the tears shining in his eyes, but not doing anything about them at the moment.  “I really didn’t think I’d meet someone who I didn’t want to hide from.  So I find myself at a loss for how to…what to…and you deserve so much more.”

Stephen had never tried to wager any kind of serious guess as to what Bruce’s deepest buried demons might be, not since he’d caught glimpses or hints of them over the years that they’d known each other. He respected Bruce too much to conjecture on something so clearly personal, honoring whatever it was he wanted to keep inside until he was ready. Now that Bruce was ready, now that he’d told him, Stephen knew that he never would’ve come close to realizing the true cause of Bruce’s internalized torment. Not even remotely close.

“Bruce,” he finally whispered out of some desperate need to say something, anything, but not knowing even remotely where to start. In lieu of that Stephen found himself moving, sliding off of the bench and twisting to kneel in front of it instead, in front of Bruce. The bench was low enough and his height advantage significant enough that he was able to nudge his hips between Bruce’s knees and lean against the front of the bench, hoping not to be misunderstood in a simple need to be closer, face to face with less awkward angling. There was a clear and sympathetic pain in Stephen’s own eyes as he took Bruce’s face gently in his hands, murmuring his name once more as the sweep of one of his thumbs caught a tear as it ran down Bruce’s cheek.

“You’re not a murderer, and you’re not a monster,” Stephen started in a low voice but with no uncertain terms, continuing the line of thought without giving Bruce even a moment to refute. “Those titles belong firmly to your father.” It was clear by the tone of Stephen’s voice that he used that term extremely loosely. “You are simply a human being who was pushed so far beyond the brink of what anyone could possibly be expected to cope with.” Stephen hesitated, taking a moment to frown and consider before he shook his head and continued. “When we became doctors... we took an oath to do no harm. We did. But as far as I’m concerned that’s null and void when it puts your own safety and sanity in jeopardy. Bruce-- you have to know as well as I do that that man never would have stopped tormenting you,” Stephen tried to impress on him with all due insistence, the look in his eyes pained at even the thought of it, if Bruce had never been able to get out of that cycle of abuse. “Not until you were dead. Probably by his hands, like your mother. Whatever the courts ruled, whatever you might think… it was self-defense.”

Stephen paused here to take a steadying breath, one hand moving to rest on Bruce’s knee to squeeze firmly as the other settled again at the nape of his neck. His heart was breaking for Bruce, it really was, in ways he didn’t understand or even know he was capable of, emotionally. As much as that level of empathy terrified him, Stephen felt just as strongly that there was no way he was running from this. It was different, it was new, but it was… important. Essential, even. Not even the classically stoic Stephen Strange could manage to walk away from this unaffected. But he didn’t care, for once, not about himself in this moment; all of his attention, all of his concern, it was all focused on Bruce.

“And I know it’s like you told me; there might not be much I can say right now that can change your mind, not from the things you’ve been telling yourself for years. Decades, even. I know that better than anyone.” His voice softened and he managed a shade of a smile, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I hope that I can at least… show you. Show you you’re not irredeemable. That you couldn’t turn into your father even if you tried. That you’re a good man, to come out of all of that on the other side and still have the capacity to care for people. To raise a daughter. Whatever you think I deserve, I…” Stephen trailed off, shaking his head and meeting Bruce’s gaze evenly. “I don’t really care. Because I’m stubborn. And I’m selfish. And I want you.”

[buckyofcoherence]

Guys night. ft strange&Banner

[arcanum-exo]

Loki was glad to see Bruce. He pet his friend on the back. “No, you are here at the right moment. I honestly thougth you wouldn’t show up.” He laughed. ‘When a young man like you could be out having fun at some rave.“ He really did try to imagine Bruce at a rave. "I am glad you didn’t bring anything. We have a lot. Come in I can get you a virgin any drink.”

He got inside before turning around to catch the door for Strange. “Evening. Oh right, come lose all your money to me.. or probably bruce.” He shut the door and locked it. He turned around to go turn on the alarm. If Amora came home, she would know how to get in. If Thor came over. (unlikely) He would just shout. He watched them together. They were sweet. Loki had yet to really see two men together like this, he didn’t mean to stare. “Come on in.” He said feeling his phone ring in his pocket, he lead his guest to the living room. The phone call was one of the women he liked to keep company. He sent a message to her. “Busy.” Was his message to her. He really needed to figure that lifestyle out. He was too busy and too much in the public eye to be doing such things anymore, He wanted to try to be a good person, like strange and Banner. “Come on then. I got pizza. Help yourself while I turn on some music?”

Bruce gave Loki a small, lopsided smile when he pat his back and shook his head.  "Why wouldn’t I show up?” he asked and lifted an amused eyebrow.  "I don’t really have that many other pressing engagements,“ he teased.  "I wouldn’t say no to a…what did we say?  Root beer floats?  Make me feel like a little kid again, really,” he said and let out a soft chuckle.  He was glad that that easy feeling was coming fast, whatever strange anxiety he had about the evening leaving quickly.

And even more when he saw that Stephen had arrived, turning and feeling his smile broadening when he felt the brush of Stephen’s fingers over his shoulder.  "Hey yourself,“ he said, reaching out and brushing his fingers lightly against Stephen’s.  It would be so easy to just grab his hand, but he tried not to, not wanting to make anything awkward.  Even if he just felt a simple kind of happiness, just being here with a good friend and someone he…well, Bruce didn’t want to put a name on it yet.  He didn’t want to jinx it.  He followed Loki through the house, in step with Stephen and looked at the spread that Loki had set out, impressed.  "You’re right, I’m glad I didn’t bring anything.  This is too much, are you sure you didn’t invite half the town?” he said, laughing a little.

“Speak for yourself, I’m starving,” Stephen countered with a light, borderline playful nudge of his elbow to Bruce’s arm, glancing at him with another warm smile before he made quick work of grabbing a plate and starting to pile it high with pizza. “Bit of a long day at the practice, line out the door. Didn’t exactly have a chance to grab dinner,” he admitted, shooting Bruce a more apologetic look for the presumed incoming disappointment.

After he’d gathered what was likely more than enough for even him to eat and a drink somewhat generously spiked, Stephen paused to take a slow look around before crossing to the table set up to sit, seemingly impressed. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he called to Loki in the next room.

[arcanum-exo]

ohmyl0ki:

Loki listen to him and nodded. It was sweet that Bruce had maybe found someone to appreciate him. Banner wasn’t one to take big leaps of faith on anything, at least not lightly. Banner was safe. He was also very intelligent and kept he and his brother alive. “I can see it evolving. You both seem like you would have intelligent conversations for hours. He’s pretty easy to talk to, isn’t he?” Loki trusted bruce with everything going on in his life. Bruce was the big reason, other than Thor that Loki hadn’t fallen too hard into illegal substance. He heard a last call from the bar. “Want one last drink?” He asked. “Everything is on me.” He mused.

Stephen couldn’t help something of an uncharacteristically soft smile and a nod in agreement to the sentiment that Bruce was easy to talk to, considering the fact that he himself had found almost no one he could consider as such. He hid that behind another slow drag of the cigar, eventually shaking his head and exhaling at the offer for one last drink. “That’s alright, I didn’t realize how late it was.” Stephen drained the last of his glass before setting that on the bar, and the cigar in one of the ashtrays. He paused for a moment as he looked at Loki, seeming to turn something over in his head before he spoke up again, eyes flickering out over the rest of the bar when he did. “Look, I know you barely know me from Adam at this point, but if you and Bruce have been friends as long as you say… would you mind putting in a good word for me?” Stephen cleared his throat and shifted, somewhat embarrassed for having asked. “That is, if you think I warrant it.”

[buckyofcoherence]

Did Dr. Strange and Dr. Banner just end up having sex on the card table?

I sure hope not. That table is not very sturdy.

[doctor-bruce-banner]

That, uh, did not happen.  At all. 

[arcanum-exo]

This is what I get for assuming things were on an uptick after the thoroughly benign message I received yesterday.

[arcanum-exo]

DOCTOR STRANGE v.3 #16 || blood in the aether

[arcanum-exo]

Not a pervy message. I just wanted to say that Bruce and you are sweet together.

“Ah. … thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

[arcanum-exo]

wtharryosb0rn:

“I have a lot of questions about the cat. I will bring him in. I am not sure when he’ll need to be you know. snipped.” He made the motion of snipping with his fingers mocking scissors. “I like him alright, he’s weird, but he makes the house feel less lonely I guess.” He didnt mean to open up somuch but he was like that sometime. He looked around. “Yeah, not busy.” He teased. “Anything I can do to help? I can … did you want me to start now, or like another day? I can come in another day.” He rambled.

“Do you know how old the cat is?” Stephen asked with a glance over his shoulder, leading the way down the back hall of the shelter. “And when you start is entirely up to you. There’s always work to be done, so I can come up with things for you now, if you’d like.” He pushed open the second swinging door to the dog kennels, with two aisles of about ten cages on either side. “It’s not all going to be glamorous,” Stephen felt the need to point out as he looked over at Harry again with an air of consideration; he’d had more than one volunteer fall off the schedule when they realized there was as much time to be spent cleaning cages as getting to play with the animals. “Is there a particular reason you’re volunteering? School-mandated community service, or… ?”

[arcanum-exo]

doctor-bruce-banner:

Bruce was never one of the born and bred healers he’d met here and there through medical school, the ones who were just so sure they could take any hurt and do something to make it better.  He’d had enough hurts over the course of his life to know that there were so many that could never be healed, that some wounds couldn’t be stitched up.  He knew.  But maybe he did have a streak of that idealism somewhere inside of him, covered over again and again by cynicism and anger.  But he felt it now, in the way that he was so desperate to do anything to make Stephen’s world a little brighter, wanting to do something to take away the pains that Bruce knew well enough were the kind that were never really fixed.  It was a quiet kind of desperation he felt, steady and solid and not even all that painful, just a constant.  A want to do something, as sure as his own heartbeat in his chest.

“Maybe it won’t fix it, not really, but I-”  Bruce paused, feeling something catch just a little in his throat when Stephen lifted his hand to cover his own, feeling another burst of something between affection and desire in his chest when Stephen leaned against his hand.  "I suppose I’ve been going about it all wrong.  I thought keeping everything in would be…protecting myself.  And everyone else around me.“  He smiled a little sadly at Stephen.  "But you…you already look a little…lighter,” he said and the smile on his face grew almost imperceptibly.  "That’s so much to be carrying around for so long,“ he mused, continuing, maybe talking about just Stephen, but maybe about both of them too, his fingers till pressed lightly against Stephen’s cheek, feeling a soft catch of stubble against his palm.  "Stephen, I-” Bruce started to say but really didn’t know where he was going with it, because then he felt Stephen’s lips against his palm and he felt something clench almost painfully in his chest, a feeling that he hadn’t felt in far too many years, enough to scare him as much as he wanted more of it.  Oh Bruce, you’re in trouble now, a voice suspiciously like his father’s whispered lightly at the back of his mind, but Bruce shut it out quickly, called out of what could have been a dark path by the sound of Stephen’s voice.

“You really don’t have to thank me for that,” he said and shook his head gently with a huff of breath that was close to a laugh.  "I should be thanking you.   For trusting me. Trusting me enough to let me in, even if I’m…probably even more bottled up than you are,“ he teased lightly.  "But it…”  He paused and ducked his head, smiling a little to himself.  "You say that like I’m taking some kind of plunge off of a cliff.  It doesn’t feel like that.  It’s more…like I’ve been walking through fog for a long time, and someone finally reached out a hand to help pull me out of it.“  He pursed his lips.  "I think you’re more taking a chance on me. I’m…”

Bruce shrugged, not sure how to quite finish that, but feeling the self-deprecation in his mouth, something sour that he couldn’t ever completely get rid of.  "Oh, no, please, monopolize everything,“ he said and laughed, looking away for a moment, almost reluctantly, but wanting to gather himself.  He let his hand drop to Stephen’s knee now, fingers making anxious little circles there.  "I…you talk about how badly you dealt with loss, but I think I…was worse.  After my father killed my mother, he nearly dodged prison for it.  I didn’t even testify against him I was too-”  Bruce shook his head and looked out over at the water.  "He kind of convinced himself, bragging about it when he thought no one was listening.“  Bruce bit his lower lip.  "So then I’m in the system, and not just…in the system.  I was institutionalized for awhile.  Because I, uh.”  Bruce laughed and shook his head.  "I wasn’t dealing with anything.  Refused to.  I guess I was a danger to myself and others there for awhile.“

Bruce pursed his lips and turned his eyes back to Stephen for a moment. "Are you sure you want to hear all of this?” he said after a moment, and a part of it was him just not wanting to go on, because he didn’t know how to, and another was not wanting to see anything change in the way Stephen looked at him.  "I’m not kidding when I say I wasn’t always…  There’s a reason I don’t drink, and it’s not just some sentimental remembrance of my mother.“  He squeezed Stephen’s fingers. "A part of me doesn’t think I can handle it if you start looking at me like I’m…some kind of monster.  Which I very nearly was.  Then."  He took a deep breath and then looked out at the water again.  “I’ve never told anyone about this.  Not even Betty.  Certainly not Kitty.”

As much as he tried to suppress it there was a distinct tension and a clear bristling in the line of Stephen’s body as Bruce started to talk about his father, the kind of man he was and the kind of things he had put Bruce through. Stephen’s jaw was taut as he started to shake his head without even meaning to, glancing down at the way Bruce’s hand fidgeted against his knee and somehow managing to temper his own reaction, that intense sense of protectiveness that seemed to come out of nowhere, for Bruce’s sake. Instead, his hand moved to bridge some of the distance between them again -- not that either of them had made any moves to be further apart -- and paused first to give Bruce’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving almost tentatively to settle in a curve at the nape of Bruce’s neck, light enough that Bruce could shift away if the touch was unwelcome. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like,” he admitted softly and with a sympathetic tilt of his head, somewhat struggling to put into words what he wanted to get across, as clumsy as he ever was in consoling. “The kinds of thoughts that ran through my head after my brother died… those were hard enough for me to manage without someone else’s hand on the knife I was twisting in my own chest. Your father should have been someone who supported you. The things that he did to you, to your mother -- they were unforgivable.”

Stephen’s voice held some of that selfsame quiet, fiery rage that Bruce had shown him a glimpse of earlier, and it took Stephen a moment to come out of it, his free hand moving to cover Bruce’s where it rested at his knee. He took a careful breath before continuing, his words candid as they ever were but edged in that softness he held only for Bruce. “Bruce, I’m not going to lie to you. You’re entirely too clever for that and I’m... entirely too bad at it,” Stephen pointed out in a moment of crystal clear self-awareness, and the faint smile to match. “The things you say are going to change how I think about you. Just like I’m sure that, even if you might deny it, the things I’ve said have changed how you think about me. For better or worse. What’s important is that…” He hesitated only briefly, and only out of a sense of wanting to make sure he chose his words carefully. “What’s important is that nothing that you say is going to change how I feel about you. It’s not going to change anything about the man you are now, the man that I care… so much about. It’s not me taking a chance on you because I know that,” Stephen murmured, his thumb brushing a faint, gentle path back and forth in the space just below and behind Bruce’s ear. “Because I already know you're not a monster.”

“There’s nothing that you have to say out of any… sense of obligation, just because I bared some very fragile parts of my soul to you,” Stephen went on to add, seeing as his mind was already reeling at the concept of there being something Bruce was willing to tell him -- of all people, the doctor with the worst bedside manner known to man and a horrendous track record of interpersonal relationships -- that he hadn't been willing to tell the woman he was married to, or his closest family. “There’s nothing you have to say, but there’s also nothing that I wouldn’t want you to tell me as long as you’re comfortable doing so.” The look in his eyes when he met Bruce’s was steady, trying to convey even some portion of the reassurance he wanted Bruce to feel. “I'm not someone who needs protecting, and I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to leave this. No ghosts from either of our pasts can make that happen.”

[arcanum-exo]

michelle-x-jones:

“Alright,” Michelle answered, clearly not buying it. But her hands flew up in surrender, a way of letting him know she wasn’t going to push and could respect his lie. Michelle’s concern for the dog outweighed her curiosity surrounding his situation. She could almost say it was Stephen’s lucky day, but it was the middle of the night and he was awake and having to fix a pretty banged up puppy, so maybe ‘lucky day’ wasn’t the best choice of words. Michelle threaded the needle once more before handing it back to him. “Okay,” she nodded. “Round two.”

The brief look Stephen gave Michelle was at once grateful and apologetic when she didn’t pry further, and he accepted the needle with a murmured thank-you before refocusing on finishing their work. The second, larger wound was decidedly slower going but Stephen managed to temper his frustration for Michelle’s sake and for the sake of getting the job done, his jaw set against the painful cramping in his fingers until the last knot was tied off.

“Christ. Okay,” Stephen breathed out as he dropped the instruments onto the tray again with a clatter, shaking his hands in a vain attempt to relax the muscles and taking a step back. “If you could-- bandage the last of that, we should be okay.” He circled around her to check the dog’s vitals one more time before stripping off his gloves and settling a hand on its head, eyebrows creased with a faint frown. “He should sleep until the morning, and we can do x-rays and a more thorough examination then. But I think, thanks to your help, he’ll come out of it just fine.”

Only then did Stephen pause to glance Michelle over with a different sort of concern, taking in the smears of blood across her clothes between having carried the puppy here to him and the stitching they’d done. “How are you holding up?” he asked with a careful attentiveness, largely unlike the direct, brusque tone of his instruction as they’d been working.

[arcanum-exo]

spidcrsenses:

“That’s why I like the shelter, it gets my mind off of a lot of those things. Even if I do show up late more times than not. I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me to help out at the shelter.” Peter said with a smile, looking over towards him. It may seem silly, his constant need to thank everyone, especially Stephen. But he felt grateful for everything he’s done for him, just being able to provide something that will distract him long enough to get his mind off of things and not get upset when he runs late because he is a walking human disaster most days. He blamed his unlucky streaks, as well as a little bit of discontent from the people he was surrounded with on a daily basis.

Nodding as he listened to Stephen’s offer, Peter couldn’t help but to smile, slightly relieved that he could be able to wear something that wasn’t totally coffee stained. For some reason, he and coffee never seemed to mesh well, but that of course never stopped him from getting it at every opportunity he could get. He knew that he definitely didn’t have a career in being a barista in his future. “I’ll be sure to do that next time I come in - thank you, again. I’m sorry for thanking you so much I just… yeah.” he said and laughed a bit, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay,” Stephen countered with a quiet chuckle of his own, raising one hand and shaking his head before he let it drop to his lap again. “And it’s no trouble whatsoever. Clean clothes are a luxury not to be underestimated.”

For a moment Stephen paused, his eyes fixed on Peter and his head tilted slightly to the side as he seemed to size him up for a moment before he spoke up again. “Listen, Peter… part of why I offered you that position at the shelter is because I think you could benefit from some semblance of… moving forward.” Stephen picked through his words carefully and kept his tone mild, doing his best not to offend and silently hoping he was succeeding, for all his usual forthrightness. “I don’t know much about your past, and that’s fine. I don’t need to, not in order to know that you’re more intelligent than I assume a lot of people give you credit for. And that deserves -- you deserve -- some sort of stable future.”

[buckyofcoherence]

Guys night. ft strange&Banner

[doctor-bruce-banner]

ohmyl0ki‌:

Poker chips. Cards. Rootbeer.Rum. Candy. Chips. oldies 80s music? Should he do 70s? he would make a mix. Pizza and buffalo wings on it’s way. And Cigars. He had the room set up with stremers. He got large mugs and the best homemade rootbeer from down at the ice cream shoppe. He didn’t have a lot of friends. He had a lot of dates with very attractive women. (Past tense, except not really. But it was complicated.)

Loki put on a nice clean black shirt. He heard the door, and went to get the pizza. He open the door to met Peter Quill.  A very interesting male. He gave him a 50 dollar tip which got him a rather long and unwanted hug. He gave Peter a twenty on top of that to go away. He hoped that they would come over. He knew they were into each other and perhaps they rather just spend their free time with themselves. Loki often tried to invite Thor over. Thor had his life and preferred to hang out with younger friends. Loki thought he heard a car and perked up. It was just his neighbor. He sighed, shut the door went to turn on the porch light. He went to go put the pizza and buffalo wings on the counter top. Maybe  he should have done pulled pork? Was pizza too generic?

@doctor-bruce-banner @arcanum-exo

Bruce was never really good at having friends.  Sure he’d had a few through the years, but it was never anything like what he’d assumed friendships were supposed to be.  Nothing close or lasting.  Acquaintances, really.  It was what he was used to, what he was capable of.  But then, now when he thought he’d learned everything, Bruce was finding his life changing dramatically.  Stephen was part of it, but also this.  Going to a friends house with his…Bruce wanted to say boyfriend, but that seemed far too…juvenile.  Whatever it was, it was something that felt like turning over a kind of new leaf.

He’d had a client stay a little too late- antivax parents were going to be the end of him really- and he was going to have to meet Stephen over at Loki’s place.  He sent him a quick text to let him know he was on the way over, and then sent a similar text to Loki.  He really didn’t know the protocol for a night like this, and felt just a little awkward when he showed up at Loki’s door, waving to a leaving Peter Quill before knocking on the door.  "Hey,“ he said with a smile when Loki opened the door.  "Am I too early?  I didn’t bring anything either, I’m starting to feel like a bad guest.”

[arcanum-exo]

Fashionably late by virtue of having to rely on a cab, Stephen was knocking on Loki’s door fewer than ten minutes after Bruce, grinning and raising the promised bottle of scotch as a sort of greeting when Loki answered. “Evening, mister mayor. I’m here to spike root beer floats and lose money.”

As unused to this sort of situation as the other two were, Stephen still carried himself with his typical air of ease as he slipped out of his coat and found a spot to hang it. His smile became easier still as he stepped over towards Bruce, a hand settling on his shoulder for a warm squeeze and brief swipe of his thumb. “Hey.” There was a measure of affection in that one word that was unavoidable, even as Stephen was well enough aware of their surroundings as to avoid making Loki feel like any kind of third wheel. “Ready to kick our asses at cards?”