- Hiraeth -

... Two ...

author's note -
I'm so so so sorry! I know how annoying these can be, and I promise I'll try not to have too many of them throughout this story, but I just wanted to say thanks for reading this! As of me writing this, my story has 7 reads!! I'm super excited about that! If you like it, leave me some comments <3
One quick thing: an asterisk (*) means that there's a footnote at the bottom of the chapter. I have a bit of an obsession with the Dr. Strange comics, so I'll be incorporating some aspects of them into this fic! Now dive in, and please enjoy!

HONEYBUSH VANILLA -

"No, I will not be calling him any time soon." In the New York Sanctum Sanctorum, Stephen Strange removed his cardigan. The maroon fabric warped itself in midair, returning to its original shape. It seemed grateful to be back as a cloak, settling around Strange's shoulders in its usual position. "The last thing that the mystic arts needs is the drama of having Tony Stark involved."

"You don't have to tell him if you don't feel comfortable." A shorter man with a stern face, dressed in plain robes spoke calmly. He took a breath before continuing. "I just think It'd be nice for you to have a friend. I understand that you have a duty, but I fear that this social isolation is beginning to take a toll on your mental health."

"Ouch, Wong." Stephen put a hand over his chest, face contorted with false agony. "I thought you were my friend." He let his hand fall back to his side, pursing his lips and trying to read the expression on Wong's face. "And really? My mental health? I'm a-"

"You were a neurosurgeon." Wong held up his index finger, effectively silencing Stephen for a moment. "But now, you have a monster made entirely from your pain and suffering living in the cellar.* Is that not indicative enough to the fact that you are not happy?"

Strange hated to admit it, but he had no words to contradict Wong. He could think of no argument stronger than the existence of his cellar monster. If he listened very closely, he could hear a quiet, constant rumble underneath the floorboards.

"I suppose I can find the time to call him."

————————

"Holy shit." Tony breathed, dark eyes widening as he stared at Peter's skin. "That's insane, Pete... Who is she?" His gaze returned to that of the teenager in front of him, who rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Well, uh..." Parker began with a sheepish smile, deciding to beat around the bush a bit. "You may know him-"

"Oh?" Tony questioned, not necessarily surprised that Peter's soulmate was a he, but interested at the notion that he would know him.

"Yeah... he has powers! Heeeeeeee.... wears red! You like red!"

Stark, beginning to become impatient, put on a blank face. "Spit it out, kid. We've been standing in front of this Taco Bell for too long. They're gonna think we're lost." However, he couldn't help but snicker at his own joke. Peter, on the other hand, looked like he was about to puke. He was obviously nervous, and the fooling around wasn't helping. He took a deep breath before looking Tony dead in the eyes.

In that very same breath, he poured his heart out. "OkaysoyeahyouknowhimbutnotlikereallyanywayIwaspatrollingandIsawthisdudeinredandblackandhewasreallysuspiciousanywayIwenttocheckitoutandhe'sactuallyreallycoolandheintroducedhimselfasdeadpoolandthenIrealizedthatitwasprobablybadformetobetalkingtohimandsoIwaslikeokaybyebutIwaswearingashortsleevedshirtandmymaskandhewasn'twearinggloveswhichwasweirdbutthenInoticedhewaseatingsoIguesshejustdidn'twanttogetthemdirtyandhegrabbedmyarmandtoldmenottoleaveyetbecauseIwasinterestingorsomethingbut-"
Nearly collapsing from the sheer effort of saying all of that, Peter took in sharp breaths. He leaned on a post for support, internally praying that Tony wouldn't just walk away then and there.