Consequences
7 missed calls, 21 unread messages.
Crap. It was the morning after Thor left, and the Sorcerer Supreme hadn’t quite been able to shake him from his thoughts. Not that he’d admit it, but they had occupied him enough that he had entirely forgotten about his prior commitment; going to the gala with Christine the night before. She’d understand, right? That’s what girlfriends do. Or at least what he thought she’d do.
She’d managed to evade him for the day, even skipping lunch in the hospital canteen where she worked, to meet up with her friend Jane instead of eating with him.
Once it got to late evening, Strange got to the point of merely feeling irritated at the ridiculousness of the situation. Without notice, he slipped on one of his sling rings and opened up a portal to her apartment, waiting in the living room until Christine finally returned home. She paused at the door upon seeing him, keeping her distance.
“Oh- Stephen. It’s you”
“Christine.” He didn’t embellish his recognition of his girlfriend with any terms of endearment, leaving a blunt silence to echo around the room.
“Where have you been?”
Christine seemed to recoil at the question, narrowing her eyes.
“I could ask you the same question”
“Could you?” Strange crossed his legs, giving her a slight glare.
“Yes, Stephen!” She scowled, tired of her boyfriend’s dismissive responses. “Where the hell were you last night?! You could’ve at least told me I was gonna be standing outside in the pouring rain, waiting for you for six goddamn hours!”
Oh. It hadn’t felt like six hours to the sorcerer.
“Are you exaggerating? Because-“
“No! Six GODDAMN hours, Stephen!-“
There was that word again. Goddamn. God. Damn. Thor’s a god, isn’t he? No need to damn one as.. well, like him. Strange smirked to himself.
“-With no explanation! You wouldn’t even return my calls. Do you know how worried I was?!”
Quite frankly, Strange didn’t care. Not that he wasn’t a good guy, or an attentive boyfriend, but he genuinely seemed to believe that the situation in question was being blown grossly out of proportion. He sighed,
“I don’t know how worried you were Christine, no.”
She gave a huff of frustration.
“What. So that’s it? No apology? No.. explanation of where you were? Nothing?”
He looked away to roll his eyes at the wall behind him.
“Fine. I apologise.”
“Where were you, Stephen.”
“Working.” He stood up.
“You told me you didn’t have work last night. That’s why we were going to go out, clearly. Look, I don’t mind what you were doing, just have the human decency to tell me!”
He managed to maintain his composure.
“I was working, Christine. There’s another gala tomorrow night that we were going to anyway, how about we give it another go?”
Christine shook her head. “You know what? I’d rather not. I’m going to be out with Jane.”
“Christine.” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “You know I need someone to go with. I don’t turn up to galas alone, especially the ones celebrating my.. surgical achievements.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I’m obligated to.”
“Ok.”
Strange looked at her expectantly.
“Ok what?”
“Ok, then go with someone else.”
His pride was far too great for him to beg her to accompany him to the gala, and quite frankly he didn’t feel the need to share what he had been doing the night before with her. She didn’t need to know why he’d chosen to comfort Thor over going to some dead-end gala with her, she should just .. accept that he had been busy, and move on.
“Fine. I’ll go with someone else.”
..And that’s how Stephen Strange found himself going through a portal to New Asgard the next morning.
He stopped off one or two times to ask a few Asgardians where their king was, but eventually made his way up to Thor’s house on the top of the cliffs. He barely hesitated before knocking thrice on the door.
A hearty, low voice with jolly undertones, much different to the one at the sanctum, sounded from within:
“Who is it?”
A shiver was sent down the sorcerers spine. ‘Must be the wind’, he told himself. Nothing at all to do with the incredibly powerful, handsome god inside. Nothing at all.
“Uh- me. Y’know, Dr Strange?”
“Oh!” The door opened swiftly, the Asgardian standing in the doorway, beaming at the sight of his favourite Midgardian. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, quite.” He smiled at the taller man before him.
“Now where are my manners? Come inside, sorcerer.” Thor began walking back inside his house, glancing back at Strange following him. “So what is the cause of this visit? Not that you need one.. I enjoy your company, of course. But I assume there is one?”
“Right. Yeah, there is” Strange sat down one one of the sofas in Thor’s surprisingly neat living room. “So.. Christine, my girlfriend that is-“
Thor frowned slightly, but gestured for him to continue speaking.
“-she’s ..busy. And I require someone to accompany me to a gala. For work. You know what a gala is, correct?”
“Like a.. social event? About you I assume.”
“That’s right, well done.”
“So you want me to.. I don’t know, create a storm and get your work event cancelled?” Thor tilted his head gently, bringing Strange a coffee, which was gratefully received.
“Not quite..”
“What do you mean?”
Strange had hoped Thor would have gotten the idea by now, and with anyone else he likely would’ve muttered a quick ‘forget it’ and left. But something about the innocent smile of the god was.. well, irresistible.
“I was just.. thinking. If you’re free-“
Thor’s smile widened “You want me to come with you?”
The sorcerer took Thor’s questioning as a form of rejection. “You know what, nevermind. Stupid idea anyw-”
“Sh.”
Strange raised an eyebrow.
“I’d love to accompany you to this.. gala. See you tonight.”
This was a great relief to Thor’s visitor. So why did his heart rate increase at the thought of going out late at night with the god?
“Mhm. I’ll come pick you up at 9?”
“Sounds good to me.” Thor gave a thumbs up, one of the ‘mortal gestures’ he’d learnt from his time with Peter, the spiderling, along with a gentle grin.
Strange stayed for a little while longer, enjoying one of the best coffees he’d had in years, subsequently leaving to get himself ready for the evening.