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 soft, mixed with the roughness of his facial hair against your skin, and his hands felt just the same, with each coarse finger pressing against the nape of your neck.
The other arm snaked around your body, chest feeling both of your hands bracing before lingering to intertwine through each onyx or steel strand of hair. For a second, you both pull back with shut eyes, just his breath against yours, lips hardly apart.
In a matter of seconds, he had leaned in and kissed you. From apologising for past mistakes to a fire igniting in your chest, you had to take a moment to collect your thoughts.
His finger then hooked under your chin, tilting your face just a little to deepen the kiss enough to make your heart flutter like a cartoon character's. "Stephen... wait,"
That single word made his heart stop, and soon, he pulled away. "I, um... I'm sorry,"
"Don't be," your hands dropped into his lap, "I just don't think-"
"It's a good idea?" he did the same, cautiously reaching out for that comfort. "Yeah, I just... I don't know what came over me,"
"It's okay," there it was again, that reassurance. "If it's any consolation, you're a really good kisser,"
"Well, you're not too bad either," he shrugs, taking a second to steady his breath, "I hope things aren't weird now?"
"Weird? Nah," you wave away the idea, "I always end up making out with irritatingly handsome sorcerers on Friday afternoons,"
"Of course, of- wait, you think I'm handsome?" His hands gently squeeze your sides.
"Alright, don't let it get to your head, Strange," the sketchbook was tucked among a pile dedicated to him.
"When do you think the exhibition will be done," he fiddles with a pencil and blank paper, avoiding you catching his wandering eyes.
"Soon," is all you hint, using your magic to make the pencils fly out of his hand. "I have work to do, Stephen," you pat his shoulder and point to the door.
Of course, to this he sighs dramatically, "fine, fine, let me suffer in boredom for the rest of the day,"
"Doesn't the great sorcerer supreme have some magical business to attend to?" You follow him out the door.
"Yeah," he leans on the door frame with a smug look, "but I like annoying you,"
"Aren't you considerate?" You fix up the sides of his hair, "about the kiss,"
He gives a smile, "We can pretend it never happened," he then catches a look in your eyes, something that almost doesn't want to be forgotten. "Or we could have something a bit more casual?"
"And secret? I don't want the team all over this," you could feel excitement bubble in your chest.
"That works for me," he leans close enough to fill the gap, kissing you softly again. "You sure I can't stay?"
"Go," you push him out the door with an eye roll.
He couldn't help but smile at the closed door, running a hand over his face before walking off. The cloak, however, waved his ends, hugging Stephen tight before dragging him around excitedly. "Hey- woah!" He opened a portal too early, which ended with him falling face-first into a bush outside 177A.
~~~
"No! Stop that," you groan, running over to Natasha's part of the exhibition, fixing a vase of paper flowers. "What is this? Kindergarten?!" Both eyes glowed a dangerous red at the growing frustration.
"Busy?" A voice suddenly asks.
"Stephen?" You run over and immediately clasp both hands over his eyes. "What the fuck?? This is meant to be a surprise!"
"If it means anything to you, I still don't understand what I saw," he slowly moved the cup of coffee up to your line of sight (he hoped). "It's late and wondered if you needed a little boost?"
"Oh," dropping your hands, you took it from him, "be glad your one is hardly started," leaning up, you place a gentle kiss on his face, "thanks,"
"Of course," his hand placed on your waist, looking to the sectioned-off parts of the gallery. "So this is each room?"
"Yup, it starts off with Tony and Rogers, slowly moving down towards the more recent additions like you," pulling him into Tony's section. He guessed this was Stark's childhood bedroom. It was much larger than most, but he was a Stark. "Everything is a recreation, but any...x-rated posters have been replaced with art,"
It was frames of different homemade meals until one plate was left empty. The same happened with a glass of scotch, though empty all until the last glass was overfilled, spilling onto a napkin with the Stark Industry logo.
"A lot of it is personal, and some people may not understand it. That's fine, though, art isn't always meant to be understood," you then look to him with narrow eyes, "but not made fun of,"
"I get it, I get it, I was an arrogant asshole for saying all that," he turned you fully against his chest, eyes cast to you intently, "I did say sorry, though,"
"I suppose you did. Too bad your puppy dog eyes won't get you the attention you want," you poke his chest, slipping away with a gentle laugh.
"Was I close?" He yells as you walks down the large hall.
"Nope!"
~~~
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Sometimes chapter transitions can be hit or miss so I'm truly sorry if you were confused at the beginning of the chapter and (maybe) had to go back to the previous chapter lol
