While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
It was odd to think such a large portion of the group was interested in your work. Apparently, they found it to be one of the more exciting parts of the tour. A moving painting? What could be cooler than that? Well, a few things, but they were pretty persistent.
"Alright, a lot of these are works in progress and rather unruly," you warn, pushing open the doors to reveal the studio. "Hey! Put that down," you rush over to one painting which showed a giant lifting a cart over his head. "Sorry, he tends not to listen no matter how much I scold him," giving the giant a pointed look.
"Do they all move?" One student raises his hand questioningly, looking around.
"Not always. Sometimes I intend them to, sometimes they choose to, " you explain, taking out a sketchbook, "for some reason, only a few of my sketches come to life. Others just stay motionless,"
"Do you use special paint or equipment?" The girl beside Peter asks, your eyes darting between the two; this must be MJ.
"No, I suppose it's just a natural thing," you shrug, "All these years and I hardly know what my powers are and what I'm capable of," you then unveil one painting, the man and woman in a romantic setting, "sometimes I have an idea but the figures decide to do something else," the man kept his arm securely around the woman who smiles peacefully. "They were meant to represent a sort of enemies dynamic, but they wanted to be lovers,"
"Are your paintings based on anything in particular?" Ben asks this time, curiosity creeping up.
"Not always, but my current project is based on my teammates," You take the sketchbook dedicated to Pietro. "Right now, I'm in the process of collecting sketches and references... none have moved, which is probably best considering they would likely run off the pages at lightning speed,"
Ben found this the most amusing, his laugh sparking a little flutter in your chest. Stephen simply rolled his eyes, leaning against one wall near the sketches. Even he had a book. An empty book; each page was pressed new, while books like Natasha's had frayed edges and hues seeping around.
"He so has a crush on her," MJ whispers to Peter, both right in front of Stephen, whose head snaps their way. "It's kinda cute,"
"Y/n doesn't date... though everyone tries to make it happen- blind dates and stuff," Peter explains.
~~~
During the entire tour, Peter's cover was never once blown. Every single chance is stopped by an excuse or reprogramming. The bus back to Midtown was boarded soon enough, and every Avenger had finished signing autographs right in front.
You admit, not making a move on Ben was a fault on your end, but you realised how odd it would be to do so. Especially since Peter was his student.
"Plenty of fish in the sea," Vision quips by your side as the bus exits the garage.
"Not in a rush to date," you shrug, walking towards the elevator, "got other things on my mind,"
"What about that person you used to send flowers to?" Wanda asks with a suggestive brow, "What happened to that?"
It was as if your brain had forgotten how to process questions. You turned to Wanda with a confused look. "Nothing. We lost touch. Pretty sure he wouldn't want to,"
"Wait, wait, what's this about?" Bucky asks in confusion.
"Y/n used to send someone flowers," Tony says casually, "daisies or some shit. Never talked about it," he presses the button while everyone was crammed in, "only a while back,"
You drop your head, not wanting to turn around at the chance of meeting Stephen's eye. "Not important," your elbow nudges Tony.
"You never got anything back," Cap remembers when you would send the bouquets but never received one.
"I... never put an address or name," you purse your lips in discontent at the information slipping out, "can we stop-"
"You never- isn't that a little creepy?" Pietro says bluntly.
"If he knew it was me, I don't think it would end well," shoving past everyone to get out first, you hurry to the kitchen, grab a drink and bolt to your room.
"Someone's heartbroken," Sam states, "we need to do better with those blind dates,"
"Hey, where are you going?" Nat stops Stephen as he walks to the hall.
"Just left something... somewhere," he says vaguely, soon finding his hand curled to knock against your door.
"Come in," you groan, "you better be here to... Stephen?"
"Didn't know daisies were your favourite flowers," he leans against the doorframe. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Would you have still cared?" You kept looking at your computer, ignoring him.
"I kept two things from New York, very personal things." He conjures a box with a watch, "Christine gave me this years ago,"
"Listen, Strange, I don't give a shit about your sob story-" Then you see another item, a small daisy encased in glass with a date engraved right under.
"I got closure with Christine, but I always wondered who sent me all those flowers I hate so much," he places it down on the desk for you to fully admire.
In hindsight, you should have been slightly offended by his words, but the sentiment stayed true. "Hate it more knowing it was me?" You say with an amused tone.
"So much more," he matches the wit while returning the glass piece.
"I sent them because I was worried," you finally say, "I heard the news, and as much as I despise you, I'm not heartless,"
"Really?" He does a double take, "So your heart's just covered in ice then?"
"Ha ha," standing up, you move past him and out of your room, "come on, idiot,"
~~~
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