Doctor Strange One Shots

Delicate Hands - Part 3

And the fight continued, back and forth between this giant pixie. And the two master's were doing very well at holding their own. This was definitely a fight they would have no trouble winning, as long as they kept their focus on the task at-

"I think we've almost got it!" Stephen exclaimed, turning to look over at (Y/n) as they continued to send spells at the creature.

But that was a moment that Stephen should have waited for.

"Stephen-"

From the corner of her eyes, (Y/n) saw a spell heading straight towards the now distracted doctor. And so, without thinking, she threw herself into its trajectory.

Stephen was confused. What was she doing? But he soon understood once he watched the pixie's spell encapsulate her whole and send her across the room with forceful impact.

"No!"

Something dropped inside of him just then, and he rose, letting the cloak lift him to the eye level of this abomination. And without another word, he conjured as much strength inside of him as he could in that very moment, and sent such a powerful blast towards the creature's injured arm that each individual pixie shattered from the form.

Quickly, Stephen threw up another spell, freezing all the little fluttering annoyances in their spots mid air, before he rushed down to the ground to find (Y/n).

"(Y/-"

Stephen caught his breath as he lowered himself to her. (Y/n) was still alive, barely, the faint pulse he felt under her jaw confirming this. He brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face before scanning over her body.

She hit the wall pretty hard - severe impact to the cranium, but no signs of any cracks.

Stephen's doctor brain was whirling, analysing her state as well as the scene that stood before him. But there was just something quite odd about the way her leg was resting-

Oh.

And as if Stephen could see straight through her robes and down to her skeleton, he hovered his hand over her leg, a bright orange glow hovering in the air just to confirm what he had already guessed.

Broken tibia-fibula. And a cracked femur.

Ouch.

He looked over as the cloak separated itself from his shoulders, and looked down, almost worryingly at (Y/n), before looking back up to Stephen.

"Yeah... I know."

-

Stephen had sent word to Wong for some assistance in the sanctum. He couldn't risk those pesky little pixies escaping once again. But Stephen felt so much guilt swell up inside of him that he couldn't bring himself to take care of the task and leave (Y/n) alone.

At least, not now.

'How could you let this happen you idiot??'

Stephen's thoughts had been filled with a mixture of complaints and arguments, towards both himself and (Y/n). And as he continued making his way to her room, with (Y/n)'s barely conscious body curled up in his arms and the cloak hovering close behind, he was truly baffled by her actions.

'Why would she do that? It was utterly stupid, and she should know that intercepting an attack like that could have cost her her life.'

'Why would she take a hit so powerful... for me?'

They were, after all, rivals. And in their time spent together, he had never felt that strong an urge to protect her like she had him.

Well-

Maybe apart from that one time-

No, wait, there was also the time when-

And the more Stephen thought about it, the more he realised he had had these protective urges on multiple occasions, though some not nearly as life threatening as her recent actions.

So, as he set her down gently onto her bed, he let his eyes trail over her battered and injured body, before they stopped on her features.

'She's kind of cute when she's not screaming her head off at me.'

That was odd...

Never had he ever imagined himself mentally calling (Y/n), of all people, 'cute'.

But the more he tried to deny it, the more he found himself starting to argue back.

'Well, she's always looked like that...'

'What? So she's always been that cute? Stephen, stop lying to yourself.'

'She's unconscious for God's sake.'

So, Stephen pushed his thoughts away and dug up enough strength within himself to help her; conjuring several bits of medical equipment so he could 'patch her up'.

Stephen hadn't really felt comfortable doing delicate tasks like this since his accident, his hands never remaining steady enough for him to trust his actions.

But then he thought back to his time in Kamar-Taj, and how he eventually found the will to clean up his look, adjusting his normal routine to cater to his shakes and tremors.

And besides, he knew (Y/n) would have a go at him if he called for help, even if it was someone like Christine, who, oddly enough, seemed to get along very well with (Y/n).

But something inside of him told him to do it himself. For her.

And so, he began, his scarred fingers carefully cleaning her wounds, wrapping sheets of bandages, cutting pieces away, and mending her to a state even he would be satisfied with back in his surgeon days.

-

Once Stephen had finished tending to her injuries, which didn't take nearly as long as he had expected it to, though still being a longer process than he would have liked, he stepped back with a proud smile, and decided he needed some air to clear his thoughts, leaving the cloak behind to keep her safe.

So, Stephen stepped foot outside of the sanctum, letting the cool New York breeze flush over his tired features, and he started to really question the validity of their rivalry.

Why did they hate each other so much?

In all honesty, Stephen couldn't properly remember the exact moment it happened. But he knew why. And the more the breeze of the streets flowed with him through the crowds of busy New-Yorkers, he started to realise how incredibly petty it all sounded to him.

And it all boiled down to: She was good, but I wanted to be better.

But he couldn't.

No matter what he did, he just couldn't beat her in a spar, or prove he was smarter or more useful when it came to sorcery.

And he assumed it got to a point where everything she did simply reminded him of his lack of success.

So he started being snarky. Mean. Petty.

Even if she was simply reading in the library, Stephen felt the need to inconvenience her, blasting music through the sanctum to distract her.

So, Stephen continued to walk.

And he continued to think.

And soon, he realised how annoying he had been to her, considering she hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Not at the beginning, at least.

There was simply no logic to their differences. They were both masters of the New York Sanctum, students of the Ancient One, protectors of earth; the least they could do was try to be cordial.

And after what she just did for him?

He owed her at least that much.

---
Mental realisation?? Stephen is growing 😭

Until next time <3