While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
"I still know a few people here so hopefully they'll let us wander," he moves past some patients leaving. "I spent so much time in this building I often wondered why I bothered buying an apartment,"
You look around with a sense of displacement. This was entirely out of your comfort zone. Smell of sterile instruments with the sleek white paint on every inch of wall, ceiling and floor, it was like a psychological dystopia.
"You're uncomfortable," he notes plainly.
"Hospitals always unnerved me," you nearly fall back as a string of nurses run back, the beeping of an alarm from a room making you back up further.
"Code blue, just a cardiac arrest," he whispers, hand on your shoulder. "Come on, you haven't been to a hospital if you haven't had its coffee," Stephen felt a little bad for dragging you to the most stressful part of the hospital, forgetting how used to it he was.
"Lovely," you then see him hold his arm out, "what?"
"Thought I'd provide support in such a stressful time," he says playfully.
"Shut up, Strange," you nudge him away and stalk off, trying to find the cafeteria on your own.
~~~
"What is with you and awful drinks??" You grimace at the taste of the coffee.
"It's nostalgic," he sips at it solemnly.
"Nightmarish," you finish off the drawing of the coffee cup and how he held it. "Thoughts?"
"Impressive," a ghost of a smile threatened to form on his lips.
"I'll take it," you then settle the set down and hold one hand out for him to take. "Mind if I?"
"Why? Gonna perform some weird art ritual?" He places it down, only to reel it back when you slap it, "hey! What was that for??"
"For the comment, now come on," you take it back, only to observe it intently. "You still shake a little?"
"A little," usually, he would find himself hiding his hands in his pockets, especially if someone were to do what you were doing. "Why?"
"How much does your magic go into your hands?" You could feel the slightly tremor when you only hold it lightly. "I thought it was just the cold weather but..."
"Just enough," he looks to his other hand.
"I can feel it," you say in a quiet voice, letting your eyes close as his amber coloured magic starts to appear around his palm. Opening them again, you take the time to remember the exact colour without fail, holding his palm open in yours. "It's a gorgeous colour,"
Soon it changed to a deep sangria, almost edging on a dull brick red. "What- hey, what are you doing?" He was startled for sure, but not afraid.
"It's your colour," you explain too vaguely for his taste. "It's... like your aura but not really," your eyes lift to his, "it's meant to compliment your magic... with Nat, it was a sage green, like her sister's vest. Peter's was the blue of his school sweatshirt,"
"I'm guessing this red is like the cloaks?" He looks to the tucked away piece of fabric.
"Very autumn based palette," then attention was drawn away from the moment shared to the child walking up to the table.
"Uhm, 'scuse me?" He peaks over the edge, "can you sign my lunch box?" He places it down in front of Stephen.
The former doctor sighed, unable to keep away the smile from the boys adorable eyes. "What's your name, kid?"
"Harry," he looks to the empty seat beside Stephen, "can I sit?"
"Of course you can, Harry!" You encourage which makes Stephen frown. "Big fan of Doctor Strange?"
"Mhm," The boy timidly fiddles with his fingers. "I wanna save people too,"
"You want to be a superhero?" You ask curiously.
He shakes his head, "I wanna be a doctor! Like you," He gives a bright smile while Stephen does a double take, almost completely melting the same way you did.
"Aw, that's lovely, Harry," you fix his messed up hair, combing it back like Stephen, "I think you'll make a wonderful doctor. You even look like Stephen... almost," it was true; the boy had near black hair while his eyes were the exact colour of yours. His smile matched the sorcerer's, and his little red coat plus blue shirt was like a cute closet cosplay. "Don't you think?"
Stephen stopped staring, an action he had only just realised he was doing. "Mhm," was all he could say, unable to recall the context of the question.
"Stephen?" a voice then calls out; a gorgeous woman with the smoothest medium brown hair walks up in confusion. Strands of hair fell to frame her face, the rest pulled back into a bun, complimenting her sweet green eyes.
"Christine," his posture immediately fixed, so their relationship soon clicked in your head: either he liked her, or they were exes. Maybe both.
"What are you doing here?" her eyes showed slight recognition when she looked at you. "Y/n L/n, right?"
"Yup," you stand up to shake her hand, "I don't think Stephen has mentioned you before,"
"Uhm, Y/n, this is Doctor Christine Palmer. She and I worked together before... you know," he rubs the nape of his neck, standing up too while Harry took his hand happily, slightly oblivious to the situation.
"Hello, Doctor!" the boy waves before taking your hand too.
"Hello there, what's your name?" Christine looked down at the boy, then up between you and Stephen. The resemblance was slightly uncanny, and in her mind, enough time had passed for it to be possible. She pinpointed the boy to be three to four years old, and she hadn't exactly seen him since 2016.
"Harry," he giggles, "she's a doctor like you!"
"Yes, she is, Harry," Stephen says softly.
"I'm guessing he got his politeness from you?" Christine laughs, directing the comment to you. "He's got Stephen's hair for sure,"
It took a second but you and Stephen soon blurt out corrections, "no! No, he's not-" while he stammers, he couldn't deny the mixup wasn't an honest mistake.
"God no, I would never," you scoff, "full offence, magician,"
"I'll take it to heart," he glares, soon turning to Christine who was stifling a laugh.
"Mhm, well, I'm hoping you didn't just steal a child then," just as she says this, she moves out of the way for Harry, whose parents called over, "that explains where he came from,"
"Bye-bye!" The boy waves, leaving you three alone in silence.
~~~
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