The soft clinking of silverware against plates filled the quiet space of Tony's dining room. Late dinner was a simple affair—pasta, a bottle of wine that Tony had insisted on opening, and a quietness that felt heavier than usual. Stephen sat across from Tony, his posture straight but relaxed, twirling his fork slowly in the linguine.
Tony leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass of wine absentmindedly. His gaze flicked to Stephen, who was still eating, lost in thought. The silence stretched for a moment before Tony broke it, his voice casual but carrying that sharp, tell-tale edge of a Stark idea forming.
"You know," Tony began, his tone deceptively light, "you're going to need an identity at some point."
Stephen glanced up, his brow furrowing slightly. "An identity? What do you mean?"
Tony shrugged, tilting his head as he set the glass down. "I mean, you can't just be 'Stephen Strange, the interdimensional meddler' forever. You want to integrate yourself into this world, right? That's going to require a paper trail. A name. A backstory. The whole deal."
Stephen exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. "I've been thinking about that. But creating a completely new identity from scratch… It feels dishonest."
"Well," Tony leaned forward, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes, "why bother creating something new when you already have an identity waiting for you? Doctor Stephen Strange—the bigshot neurosurgeon, genius, philanthropist, and, let's not forget, ego incarnate."
Stephen's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a faint, unimpressed frown. "You mean the identity of the man who died in this universe? That would raise a lot of questions, Tony."
Tony waved him off, clearly unfazed. "Nah, we spin it. Twist the truth a little. Nobody's going to hear your full story and think, 'Oh yeah, totally, alternate universe sorcerer supreme.' But the other version of you? A famous doctor coming back from the dead? That's a headline people will eat up."
Stephen crossed his arms, clearly skeptical. "And how exactly do you plan to explain my miraculous return? Just slap on a press release and call it a day?"
Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his grin widened. "Simple. We say you were kidnapped. You know, like me. The terrorists grabbed you and forced you to patch up their injured. Maybe they were keeping you in the same place as me, and boom! We cross paths. You escape when I escape. Easy."
Stephen arched an eyebrow, his tone dry. "Tony, that's ludicrous."
"Is it?" Tony countered, leaning back with a smirk. "Look, nobody's going to believe anything those terrorists say. And you're not the first person to get plucked out of obscurity and thrown into chaos. It's not like we're short on precedent here."
Stephen hesitated, the wheels clearly turning in his mind. "And what happens when people start asking questions I can't answer? What happens when I don't fit neatly into the life my counterpart left behind?"
"That's where I come in," Tony said confidently, gesturing at himself. "We'll tailor the story. You're not coming back to pick up where you left off as a surgeon. You're a man with a new perspective. Maybe you've been through too much to go back to the operating table, so now you're working with me. Innovating, consulting—hell, I don't care. But the point is, we control the narrative."
Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a low sigh. "I can't believe I'm actually considering this."
Tony's grin softened slightly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "Look, Steph, I know this is messy. But the world's already messy. The point is, you're not some shadow anymore. People are going to notice you eventually—especially if you're going to start stepping up as a master of Kamar-Taj. You might as well have an explanation ready."
Stephen didn't respond immediately, his gaze dropping to his hands as he turned Tony's words over in his mind. He hated to admit it, but Tony had a point. He couldn't remain anonymous forever—not with everything he planned to do.
"And besides," Tony added, his smirk returning, "it's not like we're lying. We're just... repackaging the truth. You were in the Middle East, weren't you? You did help save lives. We'll just leave out the part where you're technically from another universe."
Stephen finally looked up, his expression a mix of resignation and reluctant amusement. "I'm starting to see why people say you have a way of dragging them into your schemes."
Tony raised his glass in mock salute. "I prefer to think of it as inspiring confidence."
Stephen sighed, shaking his head, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Fine. I'll consider it. But if this blows up in our faces—"
"I'll take the heat," Tony interrupted, his tone firm. "This is my world, my stage. You're just the reluctant supporting actor."
Stephen rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath before finally taking a sip of his wine. "You really do love the sound of your own voice, don't you?"
Tony grinned, utterly unapologetic. "What can I say? It's a good voice."
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Stephen couldn't help but feel the weight of his decision settling over him. He wasn't entirely sure if this was the right path, but for now, it was a path. And that was more than he'd had in a long time.
"So," Tony began, breaking the quiet, "after this whole 'new identity' thing, what happens next?"
Stephen blinked, his fork halting mid-spin as he looked up. "Next? You mean after I've officially been declared a master of Kamar-Taj?"
"Yeah, after that," Tony said, leaning back in his chair and gesturing loosely with his glass of wine. "You're stepping up in the mystical world, great. But what about the other world? You know, the normal one. The one with traffic jams and grocery store lines and people who don't have cloaks that double as fashion statements."
Stephen's lips twitched faintly at the jab, though his expression remained guarded. "What about it?"
"Well," Tony said, swirling his wine, "you can't just be the mystical, floating sorcerer supreme of Malibu forever. You've been talking about integrating yourself, right? Doesn't that include the muggle world? Or are you planning to keep playing the interdimensional Batman card?"
Stephen set his fork down, exhaling quietly as he folded his hands in front of him. "I've thought about it. But honestly, I'm not sure. Returning to that life feels... unnecessary. It's not mine to return to. I'm not the Stephen Strange this world remembers, and I don't see the point in pretending to be."
Tony's gaze narrowed slightly, his sharp eyes scanning Stephen's face. "So what? You're just going to let that part of your life go? No friends, no connections outside of all the magic mumbo jumbo?"
Stephen's expression tightened briefly. "It's not like I have anyone waiting for me in that life, Tony. From what I've seen, the other me burned most of his bridges before he... died." He paused, his voice softening. "And besides, what would I even do? I can't exactly go back to being a surgeon, not without magic. My hands wouldn't allow it."
Tony shrugged, clearly unconvinced. "Doesn't have to be surgery. You've got a big brain. Use it. Hell, you could be a consultant, a professor, a goddamn inventor if you wanted to. And don't give me that 'it's unnecessary' crap. You're already meddling in this world, Steph. Might as well do it officially."
Stephen arched an eyebrow, his tone dry. "I don't see how forging a new life as an inventor would help me integrate into the world."
"Well, it'd keep you out of my lab," Tony quipped, but the grin didn't quite reach his eyes. He tapped the edge of his plate with his fork, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. "You really think there's no one waiting for you out there? What about that Christine?"
Stephen stilled, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. "Christine," he repeated, his voice quieter now.
"Yeah," Tony said, leaning forward slightly. "Christine. You know, your old flame? The one we saw at the gala."
Stephen's gaze dropped to his plate, his jaw tightening. "Christine was... important to me. Once. But that was a long time ago, in another life."
Tony tilted his head, watching him closely. "So what? People change. Doesn't mean she wouldn't want to see you again."
Stephen shook his head, his voice laced with a mix of regret and determination. "It's not that simple. She's moved on. And even if she hasn't, what am I supposed to say? 'Hi, Christine, remember me? Oh, by the way, I'm from an alternate universe and not the Stephen Strange you knew. Hope that's not weird.'"
Tony chuckled softly, though there was a hint of something else in his tone—something Stephen couldn't quite place. "Honestly? You might as well. At least it'd be memorable."
Stephen gave him a flat look. "You're not helping."
Tony smirked, leaning back again and gesturing casually. "Look, all I'm saying is, what's the harm in trying? You've been through hell and back, Steph. If you've got even a slim chance of reconnecting with someone who mattered to you, why not take it?"
Stephen's gaze flickered, a trace of vulnerability slipping through before he masked it. "And what if it doesn't work? What if all I do is reopen old wounds?"
Tony's smirk softened into something gentler, something more sincere. "Then at least you'll know. But you've got to give people more credit, Steph. Not everyone's as stubborn as you."
Stephen exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I'll think about it," he said finally, his voice quieter than before.
"Good," Tony said, reaching for his wine. "That's all I'm asking."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. But then Tony's grin returned, his tone shifting back to its usual teasing lilt. "And hey, if it gets too awkward, just portal out of there. You've got the best escape route in the world, right?"
Stephen let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You have an incredible talent for making serious moments feel ridiculous."
"It's a gift," Tony said with a wink. "Besides, I've got to keep you on your toes."
Stephen huffed softly, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As much as Tony's antics could drive him insane, there was something grounding about his presence—something that made the weight of his decisions just a little easier to bear.
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