voicelog | metaheroes

[ ......of course that wasn't going to fly.

he lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head slowly. ] Really not gonna give me that out, huh, Doc?

[ he splays out his hands with a shrug. ]

I fell off the wagon. In New Amsterdam. Or, well, New Amsterdam-adjacent. It's complicated. [ he keeps his voice light, unbothered. ] But I got it under control now. [ well, sort of. ]

[ Shit. Everything he can remember hadn't managed to knock him off the wagon, so whatever did must've been bad. But that can wait for as long as it has to - what Tony's telling him is worth the full weight of his concern.

He knows exactly how important his sobriety is to him. ]

Tony.

[ It's too late for the No Problem act. I'm not even sure how I'd managed to keep going for this long. But what else is there? What can he say, really, now that the problem has come and gone - weathered alone.

For a moment he just sits there, caught on the brink of speech after realising he doesn't know what should come out of his mouth next... then his face folds with regret, with the pain of that revelation on behalf of a friend who can't show it, shoulders dropping as he gives up on the notion of saying the right thing. There is no right thing. ]

Shit. I'm sorry.

[ normally, he wouldn't be as honest and upfront about it, but... if stephen is starting to regain his memories, then he is bound to learn of what happened to them so there's really not much point to concealing it. ]

Don't be. It's not like it's my first time. And hey, [ he offers a wry smile. ] at least I haven't made a complete fool out of myself or done anything too reckless. You might not be aware of this, but that's a milestone for me.

[ he has a sordid history of drinking and iron manning. ]

There's... also something else you should probably know.

[ He's lived in a world with a Tony Stark in the news every other week long enough for that milestone not to come as too much of a surprise to him. It's proving difficult to latch onto the severity of what's just been revealed to him when Tony keeps shrugging it off, like trying to find purchase on smooth glass.

So when something else is brought into the mix Stephen's head tilts, latching on like a dog with a poor reputation for finding anything finally picking up on a scent. ]

Okay.

[ he isn't ready to delve into the nitty gritty of his lifelong battle against alcoholism with anyone outside of his own mind, so it's just easier for him to sweep it under the rug. but at least stephen has been made aware of his current standing with sobriety. that's what matters. ]

We... may have gotten trapped in another dimension for about a month and spent centuries as lovers.

[ just gonna make it easier by sending over his aeries file via the implant because ofc he has an aeries file. dw it's all data and zero juice. ]

Tabloids had a field day with that one.

[ An initial snort at the ridiculousness of that sentence cuts itself off as the content catches up with him. Then there's a long silence from Stephen, just staring at Tony - or perhaps through him as that file comes in - processing the individual parts of what he was just told.

The furrow between his brows gradually deepens. His eyes flick briefly away as he tunes the file back out and finds himself still staring directly at Tony, looking instead at some indeterminate point of the counter base beside him as he stretches the quiet on another second more. Amazing, to have rendered Stephen Strange speechless twice in the space of five minutes.

Finally, because the silence is getting loud enough that even he can hear it— ]

... Huh.

[ There's about as much humor in it as he can reasonably dig up, given he's just realised this is probably what one Kai Parker was referencing a long time ago in a theatre not so very far away. He looks back up at Tony, expression tinged with the edges of something wry, hesitant to let it be fully anything until he's figured out where exactly that puts them now.

But it's typical, isn't it? That their reunion would be this stupid with complexity. And maybe that, if nothing else, is something they can laugh about. ]

Lucky you.

[ Badum tsh. ]

[ maybe he shouldn't have dumped all of this on stephen at once, but it's better for him to just rip off the bandaid now than later. no time like the present as they say. but as the silence drags on, the more he begins to reconsider his approach. talk about being the curator of his own awkward affairs.

still, he regretted not being able to have this conversation with stephen once; he isn't going to risk it again, especially given how tumultuous the multiverse has become. so, he sits and he waits patiently for him to read through the document, ignoring the steadily growing anxiety he feels inside.

a mild relief settles over him when he finally hears his response. it's succinct, a subtle joke; but it isn't bad. ]

Yeah. Lucky me. [ he's quiet for a moment. ] It... doesn't have to be complicated. [ even though it is. ] Only one of us remembers it, so we can sweep it under the rug. It isn't like either of us asked for it to happen. It just did.

[ He hasn't read the document, not beyond opening it to get a sense of what it was he'd been sent. The data will sit there until he's alone and can take it into its constituent pieces, figure out which to pretend he hasn't seen and which to slowly make sense of and ask after. The reality of the situation is this: the sentence Tony had opened with was enough to fracture Stephen's thoughts off down enough separate avenues that the whole thing boiled down to white noise. He'd been trying to reconcile it. It was impossible to reconcile.

Centuries. Christ. What else happens in centuries? There's a document waiting in the computer in his head that will no doubt tell him, but for now - ]

I don't— [ Centuries. Centuries don't disappear overnight. He still experiences phantom grief for the loss of a woman who never existed if he thinks too long about Zerzura, that dreamed-up world that made him briefly the father of three people he can't help but to love. That experience was only the tail end of a handful of decades. Centuries... ] I can... do whatever you need.

[ He can't tell if Tony's suggestion comes from a sense of obligation to prioritise Stephen's comfort or a hope to protect his own. Some things are easier buried. But not all buried things stay put. ]

[ truthfully, it's a mix bag between the two.

genius he may be in the refined art of mental compartmentalization, but even if he can keep his conscious mind away from the centuries he'd spent in the aeries, they still haunt his dreams during the times when periodic of short naps no longer could fight off fatigue.

he doesn't want to treat it like it's a big deal, give it meaning or even acknowledge the complexities of feelings for stephen — not after months of affirming to himself that these emotions were concocted by gods and not developed by choice.

and yet his attraction towards him is undeniable as well as his inherent fondness for the man. ]

Don't—... [ he visibly winces. ] Don't put it like that. It's awkward enough without the sympathy.

Right.

[ Yeah, that... makes sense. Stephen still stays there staring at Tony for a few mute second more, immobilised by his own cluelessness...

Then sighs out the breath he's been holding, shoves himself up from the ground just enough to twist in place and land down with his back against Tony's counter, not quite shoulder to shoulder but still arm to arm. He lets his head settle back, a soft dmph. A little more quiet. ]

Last big thing on the horizon was Amoli Bhasin's competition. I'd signed the deal with her for a partnership on her Red Wings merchandise, the most recent new arrivals finished their mandatory time in the safehouse. How much time am I missing?

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