Stephen Strange x Reader

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You let yourself into Stephen's apartment a few months after his surgery. He pushes everything off the table he's sitting at and yells in frustration.
"Hey." You say.
"Go away." He growls.
"I brought cupcakes." You say.
"You think you can waltz in here with cupcakes and make everything better? Well, you can't. My life is screwed to all hell, and nothing will fix it." He snaps.
"Your life isn't over, Stephen. Eat a cupcake."
"I don't want a cupcake. I want my life back."
"You have it, Stephen."
"Go away."
"Fine, but I'm taking the cupcakes."
"Don't take the cupcakes."
"I'm taking the cupcakes."
"Fine, you can stay." He consents.
"Thank you." You set the box on the newly cleared table and start picking up what he knocked off while he stares out the window.
"Don't do that." He says.
"Well, somebody has to, and it obviously isn't going to be you." You snap back.
"I said--" He cuts off when he sees you're holding the notepad he was trying to write on. He sighs.
"You'll figure it out." You say, looking at the shaky, imperfect letters of his name up and down the page. You put it back on the table, face down. "Have a cupcake."
"How? I can't do shit with my hands."
"Well, hop to it before I shove it down your throat." You threaten.
You take a cupcake from the box and hold it out to him.
"No." He turns back out the window.
You don't move.
He quickly takes the cupcake and turns back around.
You get a cupcake for yourself and join him at the window. "Be grateful you're alive, Stephen."
"My life is nothing without my hands."
"You can find happiness elsewhere." You sigh.
"Really? Like where? In you?" He scoffs.
"I'm going to pretend that that wasn't exceedingly offensive because I know you're hurting." You say.
He says nothing.
After a while, he sits back down, turns the notepad over, and picks up a pen, starting to write again. You watch sympathetically.
"Don't look at me like that." He snaps.
You get up and walk behind him, wrapping your hand around his to steady it.
"You don't have to baby me." He says flatly.
You don't say anything, just guide his hand. 'I love you,' you help him write.

When you don't hear from him for a couple of days, you don't question it, figuring he's just angry. You're angry too, so you don't try to contact him.
Your phone dings with an email. You open it to see that it's from Stephen. You debate for a while, then open it.
Y/N,
I'm sorry for how I behaved. I was wrong.
I'm in Kathmandu now, but I hope to return soon.
I love you.
--Stephen
Kathmandu? Nepal?
I'm sorry, but did you say Kathmandu?
Love,
Y/N
How had he gotten to Kathmandu?
Yes. Kathmandu.
Okay. So this is happening.

There's a knock on your door one night, and you go to answer it.
You see Stephen, but you have to shut the door.
He knocks again.
You open it, look him up and down, and close it again.
"Y/N, open up." He calls.
You open. "Doctor Stephen Strange?" You ask, just to make sure.
"Yes, it's me."
"What the hell are you wearing?"
"Long story." He steps inside, wearing a cape.
"How did you get here?"
"Even longer story. I just wanted to apologize for how I treated you. You deserve better."
"It's okay." You say.
He plants his lips firmly on yours. "I love you."
"I love you too."

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