Avengers Oneshots

Bleeding Magic #Ironstrange

A/N I haven't done a song fic in a while and I really like this one. The idea is that Tony meets Stephen at a party and he just seems magical to Tony, even before he finds out Stephen's a sorcerer. I tried to write smut, but just... Nope. There's a lot of kissing but other than that it's just fluffy. I hope you like it...

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It had been a while since Stephen had been to a party. He hadn't been to one since before the accident. Back then it had been a regular occurrence: it was always someone's birthday or an anniversary, a holiday, a Wednesday... Any opportunity really.

Now, he spent most of his time guarding the sanctum with Wong. Not that he was complaining; it was peaceful and gave him time to think. This was both a good and bad thing though; he'd learnt a lot from Kamar Taj, from his new powers and new responsibilities, but he'd also retreated into his head and become relcuctant to seek other's company.

Before the accident he'd found parties too loud and busy - too many people chatting, singing, yelling - he usually ended up drinking himself stupid in some corner of the bar before Christine would drag him home. The mornings after were even more fun. Throbbing headaches, aspirin and coffee was always a great mix. If he felt like that before, he dreaded what would happen now.

He liked the other Avengers, but he hadn't spent much time around them, even after joining. He didn't know them well and wasn't sure what he'd talk about, what he'd wear, whether there was anything he should avoid mentioning... From his experience, he'd piss off someone, drink half the bar while feeling sorry for himself, and it only went downhill from there.

He'd been obsessing over what to wear for hours now. Or at least, it felt like hours to him. It was actually about 10 minutes. He only had two suits any way: a sleek blue one (a present from friends at the hospital,) or his grey one that he wore with the Cloak of Levitation. After careful consideration (a coin toss) he picked the grey one. It was a little tight, but still fit comfortably. He felt better once Levi had wrapped itself around him like a protective blanket.

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Stepping through the portal to the compound was a shock. A loud, low beat hit him like a tone of bricks and the whole place was flooded with light. A couple of guests were leaving early having drunk too much. They stumbled over the grass, one yelling incoherently, a couple giggling and another being carried by 2 of their friends. The friend holding the legs looked like he was going to punch someone and the one supporting the body looked ready to tip over as the person they were carrying flailed their arms, laughing hysterically. Boy did this bring back memories. Stephen pushed his shoulders back as he realised he was staring into thin air now the group had moved on. He took slightly larger, faster steps towards the door, not sure whether he was trying to fool others or himself with his false confidence.

The music was louder inside. People brushed past him, a few saying 'hi' but most seeming to pass through him. He'd never felt more isolated. It was all so impersonal: they way you couldn't actually hear the tune of the music over the mindless chatter, or the way after a few minutes of staring at an endless sea of faces, they all blurred into one. He looked around desperately for a familiar face before he found Natasha and Clint at the corner of the bar. He was going to join them and try to socialise, but then he saw the two empty tequila bottles on the table next to them, Clint crack open a third, and watched Nat throw back her head with manic laughter. He had never backed away faster.

After wandering the corridors for a while he found Bruce in another room further away from the centre of the party. Bruce had seemed nice at the meetings, reasonable and friendly. After one, they had gone down to his lab -  Bruce had wanted his opinion on a new kind of biotech he was working on -  where they'd talked for ages, and Stephen had started to feel more comfortable with his new team. Well, that wasn't hard. He'd come from the peaceful, mostly reasonable people at Kamar Taj, to a group of Americans who had the superhero equivalent of a punch up in a 7/11 parking lot over whether or not to sign a sheet of paper. Comfortable was a relative term.