Chapter Text
Chapter One: Welcoming the Muggles
12:32 p.m.
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York, New York
Stephen Strange stood by idly, eyes downcast with boredom as he picked out dirt from under his fingernails. Clumps of semi-dried dirt stuck to his hair and clung to his dark sorcerer garb, courtesy of a recent fight with a scared inhuman teenager who could control the Earth.
The only lucky thing about the encounter was that he didn’t have the Cloak of Levitation on at the time so it wasn’t throwing a fit about being dirty. It just refused to wrap around Stephen and instead hovered next to him, sometimes making mocking gestures at him that had him sneering at it.
Beside him stood Carol Danvers, the infamous Captain Marvel, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders as she waited in her familiar red, yellow, and blue uniform. A firm expression was on her face, her body language patient and only slightly tense. She looked every bit the leader of the Avengers, both officially and unofficially.
On her other side was Colonel James Rhodes, stern and dangerous looking in his War Machine suit. The faceplate was retracted to show the slight tightening of his face as every second passed. The armor hid the braces that wrapped around his legs like metal ivy, but Stephen could almost hear the faint whirl -ing of the hidden mechanisms as Jim tensely shifted his feet.
Hope Van Dyne was next to him, worrying her bottom lip as she uncrossed and crossed her arms. She was a cutting figure in her sharp blue skirt suit. A smaller than average metal briefcase dangled from her hand, empty and waiting for the Ant-Man suit to return.
While Stephen continued hard at work at the heroic task of idly clearing the mildly wet dirt from his fingernails, Carol and Jim took the liberty of scanning the horizon for their new arrivals while Hope studied the grey pavement. It was not, to say the least, a welcomed arrival.
News of the disgraced team’s pardon for all American-based crimes had reached the Avengers a few days earlier.
Since then, the air in the Compound had been a nervous frizz, especially around Tony, who became somewhat of a rare sight to see outside of his workshop.
He had even skipped out on the team’s weekly movie- and game-nights - something that he hadn’t missed since the first few weeks of being on a new team, when he was still hesitant about his place among them.
Stephen did not appreciate how distressed Tony was. He knew that Tony had been personally lobbying for the former team’s return, but the man seemed unsure and uneasy in the past days. He frequently stated whenever someone asked - usually Harley or Peter - that bringing the Rogues back was a necessary evil against a vicious threat.
Thanos and his army, Tony claimed, were preparing to attack Earth. Along with helping with the ongoing construction plans to rebuild New Asgard for the recent arrivals of the Asgardian refugees - who Norway had accepted with welcoming and surprising arms - Tony was running himself ragged trying to come up with new defenses alongside other people, such as Reed Richards, Bruce Banner, Loki and Thor, Princess Shuri, and the Guardians of the Galaxy who’d come in contact with Thanos and his minions before.
On the morning of the Rogues’ arrival by quinjet, Tony had slipped in the main kitchen, grabbed a steaming mug of coffee, and briefly kissed Stephen before bolting back to his workshop in a nervous flash of gold and red.
Thanks to FRIDAY, Stephen knew that Tony was working in blackout mode and guessed that right around now Tony would be looking over some blueprints, his prosthetics off as he relaxed without the now familiar red and gold arm. Although Tony no longer outright hated the prosthetic hand as he had two years ago when he and Stephen had first met (and later got into a relationship), Tony once told him that it felt nice to be without it for a minute or two.
The news of the pardons had not only affected Tony. Everyone on the main team knew some version of the events that went down in the media-coined “Civil War”.
Peter and Harley were some of the few who took the Rogues’ actions more personally and were much more open in their . . . dislike of the former Avengers.
The last time Stephen had seen the two, a little over two hours ago, they were talking lowly with the bots in the lab, heads bent over what looked like an advanced prototype of Harley’s potato gun.
Riri wasn’t with them but he could see her added tweaks to the potato gun from a mile away. She too was taking the pardons personally, albeit not as extreme as the boys; she always was the most level headed of the four Junior Avengers.
If Kamala hadn’t been taking a day off to spend time with her family, Stephen would have bet that she would have also been crowded around Harley’s gun, suggesting plans of attack with a gleaming grin on the tip of her lips.
He’d shrugged at the time, simply thinking that it was a good thing that Tony had strictly forbid temporary or permanent injuries - otherwise the boys would have been fiddling with one of Harley’s repulsors instead.
Another person who seemed to take it very seriously was Jessica Jones, who’s eyes darkened dangerously when news of Maximoff’s mind-raping got aired out by the media. Her history with mind-manipulation wasn’t really spoken about but it clearly affected her in ways that were horrifying.
She had taken a day off with Luke. The last time Stephen had seen the two, Jessica was frowning - arms crossed - as she fought back a smile as Luke presented her with a sweet bouquet with his own smile wide and happy - both ready to distract themselves from the shitshow that was going down.
Carol and the rest of Jessica’s New York-based team, however, seemed unbiased except for the occasional displeased frown whenever a reference of the old Avengers came up on the news. It wasn’t a surprise. Carol was the most detached from the situation, as she had been in space at the time, and Luke, Danny, and Daredevil were too busy in New York to have been involved as much as everybody else had.
Something that surprised Stephen was that Pepper and Jim weren’t sharpening their hunting knives. He guessed that Tony probably said something to them, possibly along the same lines as what he told Peter and Harley.
Knowing Pepper , she would have probably already perfected a thousand different ways to tear her enemies down until they were just smoldering pieces of garbage without putting a hand on them.
Stephen did admit to himself that he was also taking their crimes very seriously. Mostly because their actions had hurt Tony dearly, and still did (if Tony’s nightmares were anything to go by).
He also took offense to how stupid a lot of Steve Rogers’s actions were. He was a man of logic and reason, through and through. While heavy emotion did sway his decisions and reasoning at unexpected times, Stephen had always been a critic of people who were ruled entirely by their heart without considering how their actions affect other people in the world. Maybe if the man had used his words instead of his fists to argue about the Accords, things would have been different. But even then, Stephen knew that the Accords barely had any part in the break up that ended with most of the team as fugitives.
Steve Rogers hadn’t voiced any valid concerns about the Accords. And Stephen knew that there were many things wrong with the documents (Daredevil, when Tony had first gone to him about the Accords, had returned the documents with red ink staining every paper). But the man chose not to negotiate like a normal person. Instead, he heard Bucky Barnes’s name and every sense of reason flew out of his brain, along with his five brain cells.
Stephen felt a lot of anger and worry, which he was able to project into protecting his boyfriend. Instead of waiting around for the jet to land, he wanted to be with Tony in his workshop or perhaps reading up on more protective spells that blocked Maximoff’s magic.
Although there were certain areas of the Compound that were magic-proof per the request of some of the X-Men students who were part of the Avengers exchange program, and despite the fact that Tony himself had protective talismans placed on his person, Stephen knew that it was unwise to put his guard down around the Rogues.
Last time someone underestimated them, people died and a lot were injured as they wrecked havoc around the world trying to selfishly protect Rogers’s murderer buddy.
The doctor and rationalist in him knew that Barnes couldn't be held responsible for the murders committed over the years because he was brainwashed. However, the emotional part of him, a part of him he’d always deemed insignificant, venomously argued that Tony had been hurt because of Barnes.
He saw it every time Tony got lost in his thoughts and rubbed his metal arm blankly. Stephen sometimes wondered if the arm reminded him of the arm that had strangled his mother, a train of through that he knew could never be voiced to Tony.
It had taken a year of them being in a steady relationship for Tony to trust him with the videos of his parent’s murder and the fight that occurred in Siberia, which was so disturbing for Tony that only Vision, Pepper, and Rhodey had seen it.
It was disgusting to know that Rogers was so self-righteous that he kept the Starks’ murders secret because “it was the best” according to Rogers. It was the same self-righteousness that probably made him think he knew what was better for the people they so mulishly claimed to protect.
It angered Stephen whenever he thought about it too hard. Lying and acting so self-righteous concerning something that was up to other people had always been a good way to rile him up - ever since he was a little kid and first figured out what a lie even was.
He slid his thumbnail underneath his middle finger, scraping the dirt unevenly. The feel of dirt was not one he enjoyed and once again wished he’d had time for a quick shower, maybe with Tony; except he doubted he’d do much showering -
The slight tightening of Carol’s body caught his attention (and just when his thoughts were getting good ), and he lazily flicked his eyes up.
King T’Challa’s jet had already landed while he was distracted, almost impossibly quiet, and was quickly advancing towards them, wheels on the plane’s underside quietly crunched the gravel underneath.
The cloak enthusiastically wiggled in the air, its excitement coming off in waves. Stephen figured it had sensed Shuri on the plane. From the first time Shuri had seen the cloak, wrapped around Peter (thankfully still in his Spider-Man suit) despite the boy’s best efforts to get freed, she’d unofficially adopted it as her new friend and had taken to calling it Levi . Since that incident, Peter was referred to as Spiderdork by her as well.
The plane came to a steady stop in front of them. From the corner of his eye, he could see Carol eyeing the craft appreciatively. He knew from experience that she often felt nostalgic about flying a plane and could sometimes spend hours expertly talking about aircrafts with Jim.
Sleek squares of vibranium flew out of the ship’s opened slots and seamlessly formed together to create a ramp. The doors slid open without a whisper of sound and King T’Challa, along with his dangerous, steel-eyed bodyguards, greeted them with a smile.
They’d barely managed to exchange pleasantries before Shuri bounced down the ramp, far more noisier than her brother, with an unrestrained grin stretching her lips. “Levi!” she cried happily, running to the cloak with a sense of silliness clinging to her movements. Levi - Stephen internally shivered, he hated that name - met her halfway and wrapped around her entirely, spinning her around in a vague imitation of a hug.
“Tony isn’t here?” the king asked. Stephen raised an eyebrow at T’Challa, who was eyeing his dirty getup testedily
“You know he’s still cooped up in his lab,” Carol answered, a small slip in her professional mask showcasing her concern. “Besides, only team leaders are required to attend, and Hope” - she gestured to Hope, who had stiffly straightened up at the sight of the jet - “is here to collect the Ant-Man suit.”
T’Challa’s lips twisted distastefully. “ They will not be happy about either of these developments.”
Stephen wanted to laugh. Tony had told him firsthand how much of a hassle the Rogues were to T’Challa and often claimed that most of their Accords amendment meetings via facecalls were spent with T’Challa complaining about them. (“It’s a great way to bond,” Tony claimed, eyes shining as his hand brushed Stephen’s almost shyly.)
Personally, he thought T’Challa deserved it for freely allowing a group of fugitives into Wakanda as though they were on vacation in a beautiful country instead of on the run. He’d never voiced his opinion out loud because T’Challa had grown on him through his dry wit and their excellent team-ups against villains of the week. Now he mostly felt sympathy for the King; he could remember what it was like to be around idiots who were too pig-headed to admit their mistakes.
“That bad?” James asked, partly sympathetic and partly amused.
Shuri separated from the cloak, allowing it to attach to her neck as though she was the Sorcerer Supreme instead of Stephen (but he had to admit that the look suited her). She snorted and a similar frown stretched her lips down.
“That’s an understatement. They’re probably still on the jet because they wanted to finish up their most recent “Tony Stark is a monster” rant.” She rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the Compound. “I’m going to go find Spider-Dork and the Iron Twins.”
She turned around, the cloak billowing behind her in a show of power. T’Challa grinned, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled at her back: “Say hello to your umthandi* for me.” (*lover).
Without looking back, Shuri threw him the bird before disappearing behind the sliding doors of the Compound. T’Challa shook his head, amused, before the look melted off as people started getting off the jet.
Barely noticeable, Stephen noted the Dora Milaje perfected, army-like lines behind the king slightly tensioning as the Rogues filed out and stood in a loose half circle with Rogers as their ringleader. Bucky Barnes, a big man who somehow seemed to radiate his vulnerability, came out after them and made a point of standing away from the rest of them. With his greasy hair covering most of his face and one of his arms just a stump, he looked more like a homeless person than a dangerous HYDRA weapon.
T’Challa cleared his throat, cooly studying them as though he was calculating how soon a fight would break out. “I need to go to a meeting,” he said, vaguely pointing to the Compound. He nodded at Carol respectfully, which she returned automatically. “I will catch up with you later, Major.” And he walked off, Dora Milaje around him as they shielded the group’s view of the king’s retreating back.
Hope didn’t seem to notice T’Challa’s graceful retreat, her attention exclusively on Scott Lang, lips pressed together in a neutral, pale line as her hand began turning white from the tightening grip on the briefcase. After a second of most of the Rogues looking at the four team leaders curiously, Hope cleared her throat and attention snapped to her.
“First things first,” she announced, eyes hardening as she looked at Scott head-on. “I need the Ant-Man suit, Scott. Now .”
Clearly, Scott Lang possessed the brain cells required to not argue with Hope as he dug into his pocket and brought the miniaturized suit, handing it over with a dismayed frown. “Hope . . . ,” he started off, voice pitiful and sad. His head somehow lowered even more as Hope stared him down.
“Not now, Scott.” She seemed tired all of a sudden, face sagging as she clicked the briefcase open and carefully secured the suit inside. “This is not the time. Definitely not the time.”
As he watched Scott Lang’s expression get sadder, Stephen saw Steve Rogers straighten up, his chest puffing out as he jumped to the man’s defense. He sort of reminded Stephen of a male peacock, flashy and dramatic - always wanting to be the center of attention. The comparison was so bizarre and out there that he knew it absolutely came from spending too much time with Tony.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I have to disagree with you,” Rogers said bullishly. “Scott is a valuable team member and I don’t think you’re the right person to decide whether he should keep his suit or not.”
Hope froze and Scott’s face deepened in horror. “Excuse me?” Her voice was blank - somehow increasing her icy attitude by her unbreakable mask of creepy calmness.
“We’ve seen you on T.V. with Stark,” Barton stepped up to explain, a tone of disgust entering his speech as he said Tony’s name, “You’re clearly biased, and it would be fairer to have someone else decide these kinds of things. We don’t know you that well, lady, and for all we know, you’re jumping into bed with Stark.”
“No offense, Mr. Barton, Mr. Rogers, but stay the hell out of this,” Hope replied mercilessly as Scott glared at Barton before winced apologetically at his ex-girlfriend. “You didn’t design the suit or have any sort of claim to it. My father created the Ant-Man suit and I am here to collect it on his behalf. And it’s Ms. Van Dyne to you and the rest of your” - her nose wrinkled in a way that made Stephen wondering if she was taking lessons from Tony on how to subtly insult somebody - “ friends . And I imagine that if I were jumping into bed with Tony, his boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”
Stephen didn’t react, except for a tightening of muscle as he shoved down his bubbling laughter. It was a tactic, one she probably picked up from years of business experience. Telling the Rogues that she knew Tony was in a relationship that they weren’t aware of was the equivalent of her smugly telling them that she was closer to Tony then they were.
“Come on, Scott, we need to go get you out of this mess.” She turned around and headed to the car parked next to the Compound. Scott scrambled after her, looking like a kicked puppy but not looking back once as he slid in the passenger seat. The car speed away as soon as Scott’s door shut with a sure, resounding slam - deafening almost.
Rogers looked put-out and Barton almost glowed red. Stephen couldn’t figure out which look he liked more.
Carol stepped up. “Welcome back, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barton, Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Wilson, and Ms. Romanoff.
“We are the three team leaders of the Avengers.” She swept her arms to gesture at James and Stephen. “Colonel James Rhodey, the leader of our air support and flight team. Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, leader of the mystical arts team, and me, the main leader of the Avengers, Major Carol Danvers. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She nodded politely, offering no hand for Rogers to shake.
Rogers smiled but there was an edge to it. He opened his mouth and Stephen braced himself for the load of stupidity that would undoubtedly spring from the man’s mouth. “Thank you, Ms. Danvers. And it’s Captain.” He said it firmly, staring down at her and straightening up even more, as though he was standing up against some strong injustice instead of arguing about his rank and title.
“I don’t believe so, Private . Captain America was just a stage name and then a code name in the field. You never advanced through the ranks before you got the serum. Unfortunately, we aren’t introducing ourselves with our hero names.” Her words were sharp and warned of danger, matching the sudden change in her polite smile. “However, you can address me as Major Danvers or Captain Marvel in the field. Not Ms . I earned my title and I would hate for it to go to waste.”
Rogers suddenly looked sour, and Stephen hid his smirk. Carol lived in the 90’s as an air force pilot and knew a few things about chauvinistic men. It was always very entertaining to watch or hear about. “Very well, Captain Marvel,” Rogers said grumpily, looking as though he had sucked on a lemon. He looked around, eyebrows drawing together. “Where is Tony? He should be here.”
Clint Barton snorted. “What? Is he too important to be here?”
“Good thing he isn’t here,” Wanda Maximoff said moodily, looking much like a sulking child with her crossed arms and sharp glare.
Stephen’s eyes narrowed as Natasha Romanoff opened her mouth. He quickly cut her off before she joined in on the slaughter of Tony’s character. “Yes,” he agreed, tone flat, “it is a good thing Tony isn’t here to listen to the idiotic things you’re spewing.”
Maximoff’s eyes flashed red and light wisps of scarlet magic circled around her hands, reaching for Stephen. He made a point of yawning loudly as he waved his hand and the red was swept aside by a gold wave of magic. “I’d recommend not using your magic on me,” he said helpfully, enjoying her shocked and outraged face. “As Carol said, I’m the Sorcerer Supreme, and the next time I catch you using your magic on another person who isn’t an enemy, I’ll lock up your powers.”
“How did you do that?!” Stephen ignored the raging woman and squarely focused on Rogers and Barton.
“And for your information, Captain I-have-the-American-flag-tacked-on-my-ass , Tony isn’t required to be here. So go f-“
Carol put a silencing hand on Stephen’s arm and he unhappily quieted down, face set into an expression of deep loathing. He just hoped she wouldn’t give him a talk about being polite to the Rogues; he’d rather call the cloak Levi than play nice with the annoying pests.
Rogers clenched his fists at his sides and puffed up his chest - a power tactic to make himself seem more powerful. It would have worked, maybe, if Stephen didn’t know that he contained more power in his pinky than Rogers had in his entire body. “You can’t just talk to us like that! We deserve respect.”
Barton looked like he was a second away from attacking Stephen. “Yeah! And Sorcerer Supreme ?” He shook his head disgustedly. “How big is your ego? No wonder you’re defending Stark. You guys probably get along like a house and a fire.”
“Oh, trust me. We get along much better than that.” A half-smile creeped up his face as Carol shot him an expressed look and Jim rolled his eyes.
Faintly, Stephen heard Jim mutter, “God, between the two of you, my eyes are going to fall out from rolling my eyes so much. . .”
Romanoff said nothing but her eyes sharpened, interest peaked.
“I am the Sorcerer Supreme,” he said flatly, pointedly looking at Rogers as he added, “It’s my actual title, which I inherited and worked hard to earn. Anyway, as Carol said, I lead the mystical arts team - that means Ms. Maximoff will most likely be supervised under me. I’m very excited.”
To send the message, he flashed them an overly enthusiastic grin. It faded just as quickly as it appeared.
Rogers once again looked outraged. “You can’t split us up!”
“Yeah!” Barton jumped in. “Either we’re all on Steve’s team or no team,”
Carol looked surprised and bit her lip. “Didn’t you read your pardons and the new structural revisions to the Avengers?”
Jim snorted as the Rogues all exchanged confused, except for Romanoff - possibly the only one of them who’d even picked up the documents. Stephen rolled his eyes and focused back on Carol.
“What’s there to read?” Barton asked roughly, a sharp frown on his mouth. “Stark realized he was being a dick and wrong so now we can come home.” Stephen honestly wished he could be there when the divorce lawyer inside the Compound will hand Barton the divorce papers so he could see that mightier-than-thou attitude disappear.
“Alright,” the sorcerer said abruptly, “I said hello, sang kumbaya, and kept the insults at a minimal. Can I please go? I can’t deal with this level of hard headedness.”
Carol sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly, probably wondering if Stephen would do more harm than good on the tour. She glanced at him again and he mouthed they’re idiots slowly. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” Stephen ground out while shooting the group a look that he’d perfected from years of working in a busy hospital; it clearly told the receiver that he thought they were less important than dirt currently clinging to him.
Quickly making a portal to the front of Tony’s locked workshop, he silently wished the man would let him in so Stephen could offer him comfort via hugs and kisses - hopefully the dirt wouldn’t discourage Tony from giving him a hug.
He ignored the gasps of surprise from said idiots at the sight of the portal and stepped through it, mentally giving Carol and Jim extra strength so they could at least have a chance to survive the rest of the welcome tour.