A Fickle Thing
Chapter 5: Exhaustion
"I think I have to go to this thing…"
Stephen Strange scrolls through the text message on his cell phone with one thumb absentmindedly. The cloak rustles alongside his back, as if voicing its initial disagreement with the decision.
It has been over 24 hours (a minimal estimate) since the good doctor has slept, and their recent mission required criss-crossing the globe, from Johannesburg to Dhaka to Saint Petersburg. Strange's latest intelligence-gathering mission required hours of research, tracking down hardened criminals, and practicing complicated spell work, which involved a great deal of concentration and energy from the Sorcerer Supreme.
The cloak feels Stephen's shoulders sag as he turns to the wall of gateways in the house on Bleecker Street, choosing one and turning its dial delicately until the image of the Avengers Tower flicks into focus.
"We'll stay for the first half, at least. Stark says it's important."
The cloak knows that Strange is trying his best at getting along with this new group that Thor inducted him into, people who are called "super heroes" by the public and media. But Stephen has only joined the Avengers recently, and the cloak can tell he doesn't feel completely comfortable around them yet, or comfortable with himself being labeled "super hero" alongside them. It's in the way his body tenses when he's around the Avengers, his back ramrod straight. And although predominantly positioned along his back, the cloak can still feel the beating of Strange's heart and the way it picks up when he's with the mismatched group.
Indeed, he often confesses to Wong (late at night over steamy cups of chamomile tea) about daydreaming during Avengers meetings, doodling images from the Mirror Dimension on a renegade napkin, or mumbling under his breath about how he could resolve issues more efficiently than the great Tony Stark ever could. And in half the time.
"Ready?" Stephen whispers, almost to himself, and they step through the gateway…
The first time the cloak met the Avengers was in a conference room similar to the one in which Dr. Strange makes an entrance at Headquarters today.
"Oooooh," a woman with shining red hair had cooed when she had seen it for the first time, draped across Strange's shoulders. The cloak would soon learn that this woman was the infamous Black Widow. "That is gorgeous. May I touch it?"
Dr. Strange had looked baffled and then silently acquiesced. Natasha had run her fingers along its edge, laughing as the cloak tickled her hand.
Now Romanoff looks up from a laptop she is frantically typing on, flashing a bright smile at the newcomers.
"Hey!"
"H-hello," Strange stutters, moving forward into the conference room.
Black Widow continues, "It's my favorite piece of fabric!"
The cloak ripples with pleasure against Strange's back as Stephen is caught off guard, presumably thinking Black Widow's greeting was originally meant for him. The cloak notices Bruce Banner, sitting across the table, cough into fist and hide a smile.
Clint Barton, beside Natasha, raises an outstretched hand to the cloak, and it high-fives him, a gesture that makes Strange bristle.
He glares at Hawkeye before sitting next to Bruce. "Don't encourage it."
The cloak flutters out from behind Strange, amused at the doctor's crankiness.
Thor enters next, sitting beside Stephen, followed by Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, who take their places at opposite ends of the table.
"My good friend," Thor says jovially, grasping his hand. Strange winces, and Thor pulls his hand away.
"Forgive me," the Asgardian says quickly. "I forgot—"
"Don't worry about it," Stephen replies, folding his damaged hands in his lap. The cloak raises its edges to cover Strange's arms in a show of sympathy, but the doctor shrugs it off. Thor notices the gesture and looks like he's about to speak again when he is interrupted by Tony.
"Thank you all for coming," Stark says, not even looking up from his tablet in one hand and coffee mug in the other.
"Especially Strange," says Rogers. "We didn't think you'd be able to make it. Weren't you in Moscow earlier today?"
"St. Petersburg," the Master of the Mystic Arts says, rubbing his eyes furiously.
"You all right, Stephen?" Rogers asks, his face radiating concern. "You look beat."
Stark cuts in before Strange has a chance to respond. "That's Cap-speak for 'you look like crap.'"
The doctor shakes his head, scowling. "I'm fine. Let's start."
Behind him, the cloak wrinkles itself, tapping against his head in a way that clearly expresses discord with Strange's response, but Stephen jerks his head away with annoyance.
The cloak knows the source of Dr. Strange's irritability: too much astral projection, not enough sleeping. But the doctor is too stubborn to listen to his own body's needs, much less the cloak's opinions. By now, it has spent enough time guarding Strange when he's sleeping to know when the doctor is at rest and when he's flying about in another realm sans cloak.
The results are predictable. An up-all-night Dr. Strange is comparable to an astral-projecting Dr. Strange. Symptoms include grouchiness, a monstrous appetite, blaming everything on the cloak (or Wong), and falling asleep during meetings. Especially boring Avengers meetings.
Not that every meeting is dull. Sometimes the group gets interrupted by the Kree or Skrulls or some evil mad scientist bent on destroying the world (Who knew there were so many of those?).
But this meeting is decidedly dull. The cloak knows it's going to be a boring meeting when Tony Stark begins by going over the budget again. Barton mutters something from the side of his mouth, something that Romanoff chuckles at while Banner adjusts his spectacles and Dr. Strange stifles what has to be the twentieth yawn of the afternoon. Even Steve Rogers shifts in his seat, and Thor raises his hand to speak like he's in 2nd grade and has missed out on recess.
"Stark," the Asgardian booms. "Did we not go over the…uh…budget last Thursday?"
Tony purses his lips, fingers sliding across the sides of the panel projection that illuminates the table they're congregated around. He scratches the back of his head, eyes narrowing.
"Look, Game of Thrones, it's an important issues that not many people on this team seem to take seriously, but we've got to talk about it."
"I take a lot of things seriously!" Clint protests, squashing a grin.
"Yeah," says Bruce, "like practical jokes."
"Fast food," adds Rogers.
"Napping," Natasha pipes up.
"And don't forget the leather accessories," Stephen mumbles.
Decidedly the quietest member of the team since Bruce Banner, the other Avengers are at first taken aback at Strange's comment, then the group bursts out laughing, tossing in further agreements. Even Stark cracks a smile as Hawkeye folds his arms, mock-pouting.
Eventually, the giggles subside and the meeting continues, just as dry and slothful as before.
The cloak can hear Strange's breath begin to even out and it can feel his heartbeat slow down and it knows he's going to fall asleep. It's only a matter of time. The crimson fabric shudders, drumming against his shoulders, thumping along his spine, but Stephen merely waves it off again and sinks further down in his seat. His head begins to droop, and the cloak goes into full-on panic mode.
It can't let the doctor fall asleep. If the others catch him asleep, the cloak is less worried about the Avengers teasing him and more worried about Strange beating himself up for showing weakness.
The Cloak of Levitation has one purpose: to protect its chosen. And so the cloak does the only thing it can think of to save Dr. Strange in that moment….
…It creates a diversion.
Gently disconnecting its collar from around Stephen's neck, it proceeds to hover over the conference table, catching everyone's attention, then it drapes over the table like fancy napery, blocking Stark's presentation.
The billionaire, playboy, etc. cocks his head at the cloak and looks to Banner for advice. But before Bruce can answer, Thor attempts to gently remove the fabric from the table. The cloak anticipated this happening and rapidly billows into the air, knocking Thor backwards. Then it wends around the conference room, flying haphazardly, swooping low enough for Barton to duck and for Romanoff to hide under a chair.
"So much for the meeting," Steve shouts to Tony, crouched as if ready for combat, his blue eyes shining quizzically.
Stark is too busy trying not to spill his coffee all over himself. Several expletives later, he realizes it's a lost cause.
During its antics, the cloak watches Stephen carefully. Soon, the others' cries jolt him awake. Strange's eyes widen as he gazes at the Cloak of Levitation, honestly baffled. He stands up, fists clenched.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the Sorcerer Supreme cries.
Instantly, the cloak flies to its chosen, plummeting down and landing perfectly on Stephen's shoulders. Dr. Strange's head moves to his right, then his left, as if trying to assert his dominance over the cloak.
"Sorry," he says to no one in particular. Half of the Avengers are sprawled across the floor. Cap looks like he misses his shield. "Must be antsy. I'm…" The cloak feels Stephen's neck grow hot underneath its collar. "Yeah, I'm gonna go now…"
"I understand," says Thor kindly. "Mjolnir sometimes gets like this."
"Really?" Strange says.
"No, not really," says Thor.
Strange sighs tiredly and exits the room, closing the door behind him. But he only walks a few paces before a voice stops him.
"Hey."
It's Stark. He's hesitating, dark brown eyes soft and warm, brown splotches of caffeine coating his striped tie.
Dr. Strange turns around. "Yeah?"
"It really looks out for you, doesn't it?"
A pause.
The cloak feels a crest of pride surge through its textile body.
Sound catches in Strange's throat, but he manages to nod before he walks away and instantly weaves his magic against a concrete wall, creating amber circles through his sling ring that both cloak and chosen step through effortlessly.
Back at the Sanctum Sanctorum, Strange walks up the stairs to his bedchamber in silence. The cloak hovers anxiously, tapping against Stephen's heels, wondering how upset the doctor is at its hi-jinks earlier. Strange slouches as he walks, and the cloak can tell the doctor is losing his battle with exhaustion. Sure enough, Stephen misses the edge of a step going up and trips, scrambling for purchase, arms flailing—
-but the cloak would never let the doctor fall.
It immediately pulls Strange back by its collar, re-establishing the man's balance, using folds of its fabric to support his body like strong arms.
Strange is slightly shocked, breathing hard, and he grasps the banister weakly. Patiently, the cloak hovers, supportive and still.
"Thank you," Stephen says in a small voice.
The cloak flutters along his back, as if to signal: Don't mention it.
But then Strange reaches behind, grasping a portion of the cloak in his hands to pull in front of himself, holding it in his arms like an embrace, and addressing it directly.
"Thank you," he repeats.
And the cloak realizes this is gratitude expressed for more than what just happened on the stairs. This is for helping Strange save face during the meeting, maintaining his reputation in front of his peers.
Stephen smiles—the first genuine smile the cloak has seen from him all day.
"You know, I really don't deserve you."
The cloak wriggles in his grasp and then bops him on the nose teasingly. Stephen is too tired to admonish it and simply smiles sleepily.
Together, they continue ascending the stairs at a snail's pace. And if Dr. Strange stumbles again, the cloak will be there to catch him.
A/N: Sooooo I'm not real sure how I feel about this one, and I'm definitely putting pressure on myself to make some epic ficlets after such amazing responses to the last one. What do you all think? Kudos to MarburyBlur for giving me the kernel idea for this fic in the comments. My take on this story: wanting Stephen to have some decent interaction with the Avengers gang—see how he might start to fit in… and then have the cloak save the day and be awesome (as it always is, 'cause it can't NOT be awesome).
I always welcome suggestions and feedback—your comments continue to inspire me. I mean, gosh peoples—you're giving me so much joy and good vibes. I'm happier than a unicorn eating cake on a rainbow!
Next up: The cloak is feeling gloomy and Stephen tries everything he can to cheer it up, including doing some serious research. Can he possibly give it the best present ever… a NAME?
P.S. Anyone have any idea what those portal/gateway thingies are called in the Sanctum that Stephen uses to oust Kaecilius' cronies? Confession: I still have only seen the movie ONCE.
P.P.S. LOVE and SPRINKLES to all of my GUEST reviewers!
Marygrace: I am SO tickled that you're enjoying these ficlets. Your reviews are so kind—thank you! I will definitely keep in mind the idea of the cloak sneaking items for the Avengers—that would be too cute. Perhaps during another meeting or mission?
peacockgirl: I'm glad that you enjoyed nervous Stephen and backseat-mending Wong. Haha Thank you for the lovely review!