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The whole world knew what Tony Stark's wings looked like. Their size. Their dark colour. Even their silky texture. In a world where showing your wings was considered intimate, the man could easily be labelled indecent simply for displaying his. To be fair, his sex tapes were even more scandalous.
Stephen Strange was a private man. He kept his wings hidden, having no desire to share that part of himself with anyone. In the hospital, people wondered whether he even had them or he'd crippled them early in life as some children were prone to. Christine assured everyone that he very much had them and they were gorgeous. They were white angelic wings, fluffy and suitable for a doctor, perfect and beautiful. She could remember the first time she'd seen them, his proud smile when he displayed them. Her own were a light brown, same shade as her hair like most people. They were leaner than his, perhaps less suited for flight, but no less beautiful for it. The wings of a bird, he'd said. Christine still remembered how Stephen's white angelic wings covered both of them when they embraced, like he wanted to pull her into his body and hold her there.
After Tony returned from Afganistan, nobody saw his wings anymore. People just assumed that he'd finally learned modesty, albeit a bit late in life. Only Pepper knew the truth, because she'd seen him sobbing as he made new wing prosthetics to replace his torn ones. When they started dating and he showed her the new metallic skeletons where fluffy dark feathers had been, she loved them just the same. It wasn't like he'd chosen this for himself. Just like his scars.
Christine looked at Stephen on his hospital bed as the severity of his accident settled in, the loss of his hands devastating, but...
"My wings... They hurt..."
And she knew, even before he called them forward at his apartment, exactly what she would see: broken wings, with ripped feathers, barely a quarter of their original size. Stephen saw the look on her face and turned towards a mirror, numb and sad. He hugged himself, drawing his shoulders forward to see better.
"Stephen..."
The wings vanished and his expression turned neutral. Christine approached him, wanting to offer comfort.
She hadn't expected the night to end with her storming out of his apartment.
When Stephen finally succeeded in making himself a new pair of wings, he'd cried in front of the mirror. They were beautiful and brilliant and magical, but they weren't HIS wings. They were nothing more than a bandage, no matter how pretty. A scar. Another mark of his transgression, of his arrogance. But he'd always loved them, always been proud of them and respected them. He regretted not having shown them more often. Now it was too late.
Stephen Strange and Tony Stark gravitated towards each other after Thanos. Wary, self-conscious, resisting the pull, but obvious to everyone around them.
"So why don't you just ask him out?" Christine asked Stephen. He looked away, wings drawing close to his body. They were a brilliant yellow, shining lightly with magic. He'd been so nervous when he'd showed her, but the sight would never stop amazing her. "Stephen."
"He deserves better. I can't offer him what he needs."
"Yes, you can. I can tell that he wants you, too."
He didn't answer, but the look on his face showed his thoughts. Stephen felt broken and undeserving.
"Listen, Stephen, I like you and I think you like me, too. So what do you say? Care to give me a chance?" Tony said one day. He'd built up to the confession, but the ending had taken more courage than he'd expected.
"I... I want to." Stephen stepped back. "I really want to." Tony took the cue.
"But?"
"But I can't."
"You took a chastity vow or something?"
"No..." Stephen sighed. "You're amazing, Tony, and I like you, a lot, but you deserve better. I'm broken."
"Is this about your hands?" the engineer pressed. He wanted this. He wanted the man in front of him. And if he wanted him too, well... "You're not broken because of your scars."
"I know. I..." The sorcerer looked away, obviously struggling. "It's my wings. They were so beautiful and now..." He stopped, eyes widening. His heart stuttered in his chest. The sight before him took his breath away. "Tony..." he whispered in shock.
The engineer smiled ruefully, lifting his hands helplessly. His wings shifted.
"Can't be any worse than mine, doc." He saw Stephen hesitantly reach out and nodded. The doctor ran his shaky hands over the metallic skeleton. He couldn't feel his touch, unlike on a natural pair.
"You made them yourself?" The sorcerer shook his head. "Of course you did." The metal was hard and warm and purely Tony. Stephen was stunned. He'd seen the pictures from before Afganistan, everyone had, but this... this was something else. A whole new level of intimacy.
"I know they're..."
"They're beautiful. Unique. They represent your growth and work." Stephen met the engineer's eyes. "They're you."
"Thank you." Tony grabbed Stephen's shoulder, rubbing lightly. "I'm not forcing you to show me yours before you're ready, but I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me. I want you even without them."
Stephen couldn't refuse that.
The first time Tony saw Stephen's wings, they were in bed together. The sorcerer was smiling, relaxed after their latest round of sex. His eyes slid closed and, as he breathed out, a soft glow emanated from his back. Tony looked in wonder as a pair of luminescent wings appeared. He could see where the natural ones ended and the magical ones began, but it didn't bother him.
"Wow."
"Some say that our wings are a clue towards our soulmates," Stephen said. "I believe ours show the parts of us that make us different, that brought us together." He rolled to the side, wings stretched behind him. The upper one came to cover his lover, like he used to do with Christine.
Tony hesitantly reached out to touch, smiling when Stephen shuddered in pleasure. He could see the immaculate white feathers and where they stopped and magic began completing the work. White wings. Stephen had had angelic white wings, one of the rarest forms.
"You know what mine looked like. Black. The Merchant of Death. We would've been like yin and yang."
"We still are. Magic and technology."
Tony showed his wings too, careful not to touch the luminescent beauties. They looked so fragile... Stephen seemed not to share his opinion, because he moved closer and reached out to the artificial wings.
"Can you feel me?"
"No. I never managed to... do that." Tony sighed in bliss, eyes sliding closed as he suddenly felt the other's touch. He remembered, as through a dream, what it used to feel like, but this, to have it back... "Oh, my God. Oh, God..."
"Do you want me to stop?" Stephen asked.
"No! Don't stop! Never take this away from me!" Tony snapped. He felt whole, like a missing piece had been returned.
"Alright, love."
Tony let his wings curl around him, touching Stephen's. It was the most intimate bond possible between two humans, their most vulnerable appendages brushing against each other. Their lips met in a kiss as their wings seemed to hold each other.