“You’ve got a cool place here.” A decidedly female voice commented behind him.
It took all Stephen had not to turn around and attack. He was still very much on edge from Thanos, Snap reversed or not, and the sanctum was where it had all begun anyway.
“This is private property.” He replied mildly, warning the woman.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, just a few years younger than him. Her warmly lit eyes nicely complimented her dark hair.
She did not appear to hear, instead pulling her high-necked cobalt sweater more snugly over her wrists. “Do you not have a heater? Man, you must be so cold all the time!”
Tell me about it. Stephen thought, flexing his arthritic hands. “We usually have the doors closed. That keeps the unwanted things out.”
“Yeah, I imagine those doors are thick enough to block a blizzard.” Either she missed the subtle jab, or she just wasn’t bothered. “When will the workers be back?” she asked, gesturing to the
half-begun-but-still-a-massive-hole-in-the-stairs.
Stephen sighed. “Tomorrow. They’ve already taken the day off.”
She exhaled in annoyance. “People nowadays are so lazy, I swear. It's not even lunch and they’ve disappeared?”
Stephen snorted in amusement. This woman…
“Anyway.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ve gotta go. My cat, Mango, is probably done with his walk, and if I’m absent when he summons, he’ll tear the sofa again–”
And then she was gone.
Stephen watched her walk away, brow furrowed in bemusement.
________________________________
“Oh, it’s coming along nice.”
Stephen turned to the familiar British voice. “You’re back.”
“Yep, sure am, how’ve you been?” she waved, coffee in the other hand. The steam curled invitingly from the lid, and the roast smelled heavenly.
He blinked. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Jessica, nice to meet you.” she offered her hand.
“Dr. Stephen Strange,” he warily replied. He didn’t think of her as a threat, but if this wasn’t the strangest interaction he’d had in a bit, he’d change his last name.
“Jessica Potter.” she repeated, taking a swig of coffee. “You’re a doctor?”
“Was.”
“Of what?” she tilted her head. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
“Neurosurgeon.”
“Nice.” she nodded. “I’m a paralegal, but studying for the bar.”
“To become a lawyer?” Stephen clarified, more interested than he would allow himself to admit.
“Yeah, but not one of those shady ones.” she winked. “I’m too obsessed with justice to accept bribes.”
“Everyone has a price.” Stephen commented morbidly, leaning against the railing.
Jessica tilted her head in acknowledgement, copying him with the doorframe. “True, but mine isn’t monetary.”
“What is it then?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’d be nice to think I’m above it all, but I’m certain if the right thing is threatened, I’d cave.”
Stephen hummed.
Jessica grinned. “Maybe it’s Mango. I’d do anything for him.”
“Mango?” To say he was bewildered was an understatement.
“My cat.” she rolled her eyes playfully. “That little devil is the sweetest terror you’ll ever meet.”
“Is he now?”
“Oh yes. This one time…”
________________________________
“I think mahogany works quite well with your stairs. I was a little skeptical at first, but now it’s grown on me.”
“Hello, Ms. Potter. Yes, they’ll be done soon.”
“Jessica, please. I may have a cat, but I’m not that old, Doctor.” she teased, inspecting the base of the stairs.
He rolled his eyes. “Call me Stephen.”
________________________________
“Stephen!” Jessica greeted, handing him a coffee. “The barista gave me an extra.” she explained. “I have news!”
“What?”
“Mango is a father! That little casanova fell in love with a neighbor’s cat!”
“Congratulations!” Stephen toasted his coffee.
She laughed. Twirling in the entryway.
Stephen snorted. “Did you want to sit down?” he invited, gesturing to the lounge adjacent.
“Oh, gladly, thank you!” she smiled, taking a seat. “I can’t wait to hear about the trip you hinted at last time, what’d you mean by Himalayan skiing trip? Was it fun?”
________________________________
“How long have you been here?” Stephen asked, leaning against the door.
Jessica looked up, shoving a box away with her foot. “Hiya, ‘bout an hour, why? I was looking for you, but your friend–said his name was Wong–told me you’d be back soon. I figured I’d wait, but then I got hungry, and I found your kitchen, but it’s a disaster, so I got distracted and cleaned your shelves.”
Stephen blinked. “Are you still hungry?”
“Oh!” Jessica jumped up. “Let me make something. Carbonara? I’ve been craving it for ages, but Mango hates the smell of cheese so he sabotages it whenever I make it.”
Stephen shook his head fondly, snatching two plates from the cupboard.
“Where’s the panty?” Jessica asked, punching a few buttons on the coffee machine.
“Please, like you didn’t find it the last time you snuck in to make a meal.”
“Does your friend want any?” she was disinclined to reply to the last comment.
“Wong? No, he left for a trip a few minutes ago. I wouldn’t mind extras, though.”
“On it!” she called back, before reappearing with an armful of ingredients.
“Need help?” Stephen stood.
“Oi!” she smacked his arm away. “Hands off, mate. Rest your hands a bit, eh?” her accent getting thicker. “I can see’em trembling from here.”
Stephen wasn’t embarrassed when she mentioned them anymore. By now it seemed a casual fact; nothing to worry over.
Of course, the first time she’d mentioned it, he’d felt about ready to die of embarrassment.
Jessica pushed her crimson jumper past her elbows, nudging the trash closer with her toe.
“What’d you say you were making?” Stephen accepted the steaming coffee with a grateful nod.
She had already turned around, swiftly cracking eggs against the bowl and dropping them to the trash can below. “Carbonara. It's basically cheesy noodles and pork. Do you have ham?”
“In the fridge.”
“It’s Italian, actually, my friend taught me how to make it.” Jessica prodded the trash to the side, washing her hands. “His mother was your typical American-Version of the Italian stereotype, everytime I went over she made some sort of pasta dish. Blaise and I learned a lot from her before she passed.”
Stephen felt a simmer of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. “Oh? Go on, you never tell me about your friends.”
Jessica laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t, do I. Blaise is practically my brother, though. Mrs. Zabini helped me out of a tough spot a few years back, and we were inseparable ever since.”
“Not dating then?” Stephen teased.
Jessica snorted indelicately. “We tried, don’t get me wrong, but even Maman–that’s Mrs. Zabini–could tell we didn’t love eachother like that. I love him, of course, but it’s not romantic in the slightest.” she shook her head. “We discussed it, and we’re siblings first. After that, seems like incest, innit?”
“You have a way with words.” Stephen sipped the hot brew.
She grinned at him over her shoulder. “As for my other friends, there’s this fiery red-head named Ginny, she’s crazy. Ron–that's her brother–and I are decent friends, but we’ve drifted a bit. His wife, Hermione, is a book-lover. And then George–”
She hesitated, and Stephen read a hint of sorrow off the side of her face.
“George was a twin, once.” Jessica plucked a curved spatula to serve as her spoon. “It was years ago, but he’s still grieving.”
“Married?” a part of him still wondered, and a flicker of yearning still burned low. Hopefully that didn’t come off rude?
“Widower.” Jessica shot him a grimace. “He used to be such a jokester, him and Fred. I’m honestly a bit worried for him still.”
Stephen hesitated. “Would he…You know…”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “We found him on the roof once, just standing there…”
“Is he getting better?” Stephen only felt sympathy.
“Little by little.” Jessica slid the noodles into the pot. “He just started dating again, this sweet girl named Luna.”
“That’s good.” He hummed, sinking into deep thought.
Jessica recognized the face, and finished the pasta in silence.
He looked up when the steaming plate was placed in front of him. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” she grinned, shrugging it off. “I was hungry anyway.”
The somber mood melted away.
________________________________
Cloak dashed out the door, around the corner, and down the newly-finished mahogany stairs.
Stephen followed it with bemusement to find it floating in front of a startled Jessica.
“It’s like magic.” she murmured, brushing it with her finger tips. “Are you sentient?”
Cloak bobbed yes.
“Fascinating.” she breathed.
Stephen let out his own breath of relief. At least now he knew she wouldn’t react badly to the Mystic Arts.
“Not exactly magic, no.”
“What is it then?” Jessica looked up, a fond grin in place as she stole a hug.
“Mystic Arts, I suppose.” Stephen frowned slightly, unsure how to explain it. “Magic of sorts is real, I guess. We just call it something different.”
Jessica nodded, a gleam in her eye. “And you can use this ‘not-magic’ magic?”
“I can, yes.” Stephen watched her face light up in delight.
“That’s awesome! I can use a bit of magic myself, but yours is definitely different; I can’t sense your magic at all!”
“You have magic too?” Stephen felt just as bewildered as he knew he looked.
Jessica laughed merrily. “Do I have a story for you, mate. C’mon, let’s sit and I’ll tell you all about it, and in return, you tell me about yours?”
Jessica apparently warded off a megalomaniac in the magical world while the whole Thanos fiasco was first going on. Then, during the snap, only Jessica, Blaise, and Luna stayed.
Stephen and Jessica weren’t too far apart before the snap, only seven years, a short gap at this age, but since Stephen dusted and Jessica didn’t, they were a closer distance apart of a mere two years.
Stephen, on the other hand, quickly related his story while still trying to digest the other. They’d certainly be telling more detailed stories later, but for now, they both wanted to know the basics to be able to follow along.
Eventually, though, with Jessica yawning profusely, they both parted ways for sleep.
________________________________
Jessica came over every day from then on, rarely missing a day, even stopping by for five minutes when she couldn’t manage anything longer than that.
It was a cold and snowy night one winter day when the realization struck Stephen like a blow.
He was in love.
Jessica had somehow invited herself right into his heart, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to be mad in the slightest. He stared at the woman on the sofa next to him, curled up with a book.
A domestic couple already, he mused.
Ever the spontaneous person, and refusing to allow himself to hesitate, Stephen pushed the book down. She glanced up, book resting in her lap, and Stephen leaned in.
Her eyes widened before turning up at the corners as her lips morphed that same soft smile. Mutually moving in the direction of the other’s orbit, their lips met, and all held their breath.
Stephen felt a grin or his own threaten to break the crystal moment. “Would you like to see a movie, or maybe find a restaurant of some sorts?”
Leaning back slightly, Jessica met his eyes with a laugh in her eye. “As a date? Absolutely.”
Stephen nodded. “Tomorrow. For both. At 6?”
Jessica curved her arms around his neck. “I thought I was the only one imagining this.” she whispered her secret to his ear.
Fondness filled him like a wave. “Aren’t we an oblivious duo, then. Here I was denying you felt the same.”
“In our defense, it only took us a year. My friends always thought I’d die alone, with how oblivious they make me to be.” Jessica laughed quietly.
They drifted back together, comfortable silence intermittently broken with casual kisses, the easy affection of a pair who know each other better than their own soul.