2
The first few days Stephen was back at the compound, by Tony’s orders, the nausea kept him close to the bathroom. Tony was worried sick every day, bringing in Gatorade and toast into the bathroom every time he heard the familiar sounds of Stephen heaving everything he had in his stomach into the toilet bowl. Tony would watch helplessly as Stephen’s body became just as shaky as his hands as he sit there rubbing his lover’s back and whispering reassurance. Tony everyday checked Stephen’s vitals; his temperature, his heart rate, his insulin levels, his blood pressure, his pulse rate, and respiration rate. They all proved him healthy. Maybe he just had a bug but nonetheless Tony stayed worried. Stephen never had the time to explain, he was either sleeping or in the bathroom, throwing up half of his being.
But then on the seventh day of Stephen returning from his mission, the nausea was gone. Simple as that. Maybe it had been the medication or maybe he had finally puked the bug out of his system. Whatever it was, he was excited to wake before Tony who had recently been making him go to bed early every night. The man was tucked under the sheets, his lips partly opened as he snores softly. Stephen’s heart throbbed at the sight of his lover in bed asleep and without worry. He gently touched the soft hair atop of Tony’s head, gently curling it with one finger. Stephen gently kissed his boyfriend’s cheek and then pushed himself out from under the silk sheets. He needed to do something to repay Tony for how well he took care of him, for being there at his side twenty-four seven.
Stephen settled on making him breakfast. Eggs benedict sounded perfect as he looked into the compound’s refrigerator in one of its many kitchens. He started simply by putting butter at the bottom of the frypan, cracking a few eggs into it, and then pulling out the toaster and putting some English muffin into the silver contraption. Soon enough he was working on cutting some green onions to put on top as everything cooked. He washed the vegetable and then placed it on the cut board that he pulled out a few minutes before. He placed the green onion down and took the knife from its holding place in the wood box on the counter.
Stephen, though he hated to brag, was amazing at cooking. He knew how to excite someone’s taste buds and he knew how to keep it healthy as well. He used only the egg whites and whole grain English muffins for the breakfast he was making. As Stephen planned the dish in his head, he started to mince the green onion out of habit. He watched the knife lean up and down, the silver glinting in the sunlight from the window in the kitchen.
Suddenly he heard a pop from the frying pan on the stove and by being startled by the sound, the knife cut through one of his fingers that held the base of the green onion. Stephen let out a soft hiss of pain through his teeth, letting go of the knife and walking away from the counter to stare at it.
Stephen examined his finger, his eyebrows furrowing a bit angrily as he watched blood trickle down his finger and alongside his palm. The smell of copper rose to his nose as the velvet colored liquid oozed down like a slow stream. Stephen felt the pain fade into a pleasure, a sick pleasure that he couldn’t put his finger on. His eyes stared wide at the cut, his eyebrows slightly raised. Unconsciously, his other hand reached back to the counter and grabbed the handle of the knife. Without much of a thought, Stephen was opening up his old scars. The pinkish color from an event from so long ago now bleed red once again. He cringed at the pain but sighed when the pleasure came only seconds after it. With such ease, he traced the sharp, silver edge of the knife along each scar on his left hand. A tingling started up his arm as he became a little light headed from the new fresh smell of copper. He bit his lip looking at the mess his hand was now. It trembled and twitched, blood sticky and dripping onto the floor. Stephen shook his head, his trance still foggy over his eyes. The pleasure still stung his arm, prickling and tingling.
The knife was put into the sink with his magic and a bandage wrapped around his left hand when his right was available. He had to clean this up before Tony was awake. It would be unacceptable in the compound but the way Stephen felt deep down, it felt so right. So good. The sorcerer ran his right hand through his hair, feeling each strand along his palm and fingertips. What was he doing?
By the time Tony woke and came down to the kitchen for his normal coffee, Stephen was smiling and holding a plate of eggs benedict for the love of his life. Tony blinked at the gesture, not even sure if Stephen was fully healed or not.
“So, you really don’t feel any nausea? It just quit...like that?” Tony asked as they sat at the table in the dining room. Stephen gave a soft nod in return, using his magic to pour Tony a glass of orange juice.
“I must have just gotten it out of my system”, Stephen replied, setting the orange juice with the flick of his finger. His boyfriend looked at him strangely, as if he were lying about his illness the whole. But the look changed when Tony’s eyes flicked over to see the bandage on his lover’s hand. He started to reach out to touch it but Stephen drew back.
“I just cut myself, no big deal. I just need to cut onions better”, Stephen said as Tony’s eyes grew a little hurt and concerned. The mechanic bit his lip a little.
“I’m just slightly concerned, Steph. I’ve never heard of anyone throwing up for six days straight to suddenly just feel better”, Tony remarked, “There was blood coming out of your mouth and your whole body shook more than your hands ever do. It’s abnormal”.
“It’s magic, Tony. I still have to figure it out”, Stephen replied, not concerned about himself too much. He trusted himself to figure it out and fix it. Stephen never did tell Tony about the black substance that had been forced down his throat like a medication, he instead blamed the sickness on the sigils on the walls of the cellar he had been held inside. Tony believed it but only because he didn’t know magic like Stephen did, he didn’t have the knowledge to see through Stephen’s lie. Tony let out a soft sigh and took a sip of his coffee.
“Alright. But honey, please tell me if you start feeling weird”, Tony murmured, looking into Stephen’s eyes. He didn’t know it but Stephen’s muscles tended at the sentence. Did Tony know? Did he miss a spot of blood on the floor? Was it obvious?
“Whatever do you mean by ‘weird’?” Stephen asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Tony put down his coffee, tilting his head a little to the side as if what he had said had been obvious enough to understand.
“Like if you start feeling nauseous again”, Tony explained, “Or if you get weird headaches. I don’t know, stay hydrated just in case”. Stephen didn’t realize he had been holding his breath but as Tony explained was he meant, he let out a breath. He waved off the the weird feeling sentence with a shake of his head.
“I’ll be fine, Tony. I can take care of myself. I’ll let you know if it gets past my ability to control”, Stephen started and then finished with a stern, “Which it will not. Magic doesn’t get out of my hands, simple as that”. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly not believing anything Stephen just said but he just nodded, taking a bite from the breakfast Stephen had prepared.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt from this”, Tony mumbled a little.
“I promise, I’ll be fine”, Stephen reassured.
“Better be”.