As the last of the guests left the Sanctum, Stephen closed the door behind him with a sigh. He felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He had never been fond of birthdays. Least of all, his own. But a serendipitous encounter with Christine and her husband at the farmer's market yesterday (Loki insisted on going for he wanted to get some asparagus to go with the Spælsau sheep meat he had brought with him from Norway) got them talking about Spælsau sheep meat and would Christine and Jack like to try some?

And since it happened to be Stephen's birthday the next day, why not have a dinner party? At his place?

Never mind that his 'place' was the Sanctum Sanctorum, the sacred fortress against all things metaphysically bad and evil –

No amount of subtle eye signals worked on Loki whenever he was in one of his manic moods.

"You have a kitchen. A good-sized table and chairs," Loki had argued. "What else do you need?"

"Yes, remember how we used to eat our lunch on dissecting tables back in medical school?" Christine then said. "Nobody complained."

"Yes, the cadavers hardly had any say in the matter. In any matter, really," Stephen deadpanned.

They ate and drank late into the evening, but as the night grew darker, Loki grew quieter.

Stephen tried his best to include Loki in the conversation, as did Christine and Jack, but as it happened when doctors got together (never mind the fact that one of them was no longer practicing), the topic of conversation never did stray far from workplace gossip and awful, back-in-the-day stories.

"You two seem close," Loki finally said once they were alone in their bedroom.

"We are," Stephen said absently. So lost was his head in the clouds that he had accidentally put far too much toothpaste on his toothbrush. He scraped some off against the side of the sink.

Loki walked over silently to stand at the bathroom door. He studied Stephen's reflection as it brushed its teeth on automatic pilot, seemingly lost in thought.

Stephen was halfway through flossing when he finally realised Loki was staring, and why.

"She's married, Loki."

"I fail to see the relevance between her conjugal status and your feelings for each other."

Stephen stared at Loki in the mirror. "Happily married."

"Still failing to see the connection."

The stubborn set of Loki's chin was begging to be kissed, but if the night were to be salvaged, Stephen needed to do more. "We are just good friends. Just like me and Wong."

"Is that why you say 'I love you' to Wong all the time? Because he's such a good friend?"

Stephen shrugged off Loki's poorly-veiled attempt at provocation. "Only because he always remembers to bring back momo dumplings from my favourite stall whenever he visits Kamar-Taj. For some reason, he gets them at a discount."

"Does that surprise you? You're the most touristy-looking Sorcerer Supreme your Order has ever had." With that, Loki abruptly tore himself away from the door.

Stephen took a deep breath as he watched Loki's retreating back.

He dried his face and closed the bathroom door quietly behind him.

Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of Loki's insecurities; as someone important once said, self-absorption and egotism of the narcissist were a mask of their opposite: a deep-seated self-loathing and low self-esteem.

Stephen padded over slowly to where Loki was standing at the window, looking out at nothing in particular.

"Stop." Stephen placed both hands on Loki's hips and physically turned him around. "Don't be like this."

"It's my birthday. No long faces are allowed on my birthday," Stephen stressed.

Loki's shoulders finally slumped. With a sigh, he dropped his head forward, the very picture of defeat.

"I'm sorry, Stephen," he mumbled. "I'm not usually this much of a killjoy. The moon must be out of alignment or something."

Stephen shook his head and dropped a kiss smack in the middle of Loki's high forehead, where the creases were especially deep tonight. "You don't wear jealousy very well."

"Yeah? What would you have me wear then?"

"Hmm…" Stephen pretended to think. "How about…nothing at all?"

Loki only raised a cool eyebrow. "After you, Doctor."

Stephen obliged.

After every piece of clothing had been shed and he had lain himself on the bed, "Shit."

"What?" Loki's hands stopped halfway in the midst of unbuckling his trousers.

"Lube's in the library. At my writing table."

Loki laughed. "What's it doing in the library?"

"Well…"

"We don't need it, Strange."

Stephen's forehead furrowed.

"Close your eyes."

Stephen's body tensed involuntarily.

"I promise I won't tie you up like last time."

"Tie me up all you want. Just don't leave me chained buck naked to the bedpost when the spell needed to undo the binding required intricate gestures, which I could have performed had I possessed the unrestricted use of my hands," Stephen said viciously.

"Oops." Loki smiled, dark and mysterious. He held up two fingers in a perky-looking 'V'. "Scout's honor."

Stephen shook his head in surrender.

He closed his eyes with a sigh and prayed that whatever happened next, he would come out of it with all limbs, sanity, and dignity intact.

Hands, as soft as feathers, began to trail smooth, silken paths up the insides of his thighs.

Loki's lips retraced the paths with delicate kisses placed strategically over the belly of Stephen's quadriceps muscles while his hands worked their magic, caressing all the sensitive spots in Stephen's groin and lower abdomen.

Stephen shivered with a sudden chill. Loki's hands and lips were incredibly soft tonight.

Against his will, he groaned loudly when Loki's fingertips grazed the tender head of his member. It was by no means an accident, for Loki was quick to replace his fingers with the tip of his tongue – it took all Stephen had not to gasp for Loki's tongue was just as cold as the rest of him. "Fuck, Loki…"

"Mon coeur…" A low, sultry voice whispered.

Stephen's heart skipped a beat. That was definitely not Loki's voice.

"What the – " Stephen's eyes flew open. "Loki?"

"Excited already, mon chéri?" Lips as red as rubies curved as Loki smiled from above him, an ethereal vision of voluptuous femininity. Once sharp-angled and minimalist, her now well-rounded hips straddled Stephen's waist as she leaned over him, sending long, glossy black hair tumbling down her swelling bosom in a magnificent cascade.

Her brilliant green eyes twinkled in the dimness of the room. "Happy Birthday, Stephen."

"My God…" Stephen breathed.

"Goddess," she corrected.

And when she slid slowly into him, and this time, Stephen did gasp, for he finally knew why Loki did not care for lubricant. How could someone so cold on the outside be so warm on the inside?

If the sex was phenomenal before, there was only one word to describe it now.

Transcendent.

Loki rolled off of him once he was spent, pulling him into her embrace and pressing her slim body against his.

Stephen dived his nose into the crook of her long neck and inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of Loki, unchanged and as sweet as ever. "How did I deserve you?"

Loki laughed a soft, tinkling laughter. "How did I deserve you?"

Stephen fought to keep his eyes open, for she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he wanted to stare at her for eternity.

"Loki…"

"Yes, mon petit chou?"

So in this form, Loki preferred French terms of endearment; Stephen had better learn a few, by tomorrow morning, at the latest.

"Can it be my birthday every day?"

Stephen awakened to pitch-black darkness and complete silence.

His internal clock told him there was still a few hours to go before daybreak, but what bothered him more than the darkness and the silence was the fact that he was lying in an empty bed.

He felt the sheets next to him. It still felt warm to the touch.

"Loki?"

No answer.

He looked in the direction of the bathroom. There was no light under the door.

Had Loki gone sleepwalking again?

The Sanctum would have alerted him of any danger but still Stephen found himself more than a little worried.

He got out of bed in search of his boyfriend. Or was it girlfriend now?

There was no sign of Loki in the corridors, dark and empty.

Shrouded in the mysteries of the night, the sentience of The Sanctum was evident in the way it seemed to lead Stephen in the direction where he needed to go –

And he found Loki in the kitchen.

Back in his male Aesir form, Loki was standing at the sink, his back turned toward him.

To his alarm, Loki sounded as though he was panting a little.

"Loki? You alright?" Stephen asked warily.

"Not quite," Loki answered tightly. There was steam coming from inside the sink, visibly billowing in large clouds over Loki's stooped head.

"Did you burn yourself?" Stephen demanded, striding across the kitchen floor, closing the distance between them in a split-second.

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Loki's wrist and shoved it under the running pipe, ignoring Loki's hiss of pain as the ice-cold water came into contact with the inflamed skin of his hand, already an angry shade of red and well on its way to blistering.

"What were you trying to do?" Stephen gestured for Loki to keep his hand under the water before marching to the fridge where he spent the next few seconds rummaging through the freezer for the ice pack he had once seen buried somewhere among the various frozen foods they never seemed to run out of (Wong was quite diligent like that). "Did you want to make a cup of tea or something?"

"You know we have a hot water dispenser for that, you didn't have to boil any," Stephen grumbled as he joined Loki once more at the sink.

He turned the tap off and after hastily drying Loki's hand with a towel, he pressed the ice pack against the back of Loki's hand, blotchy and blanched against a sea of red.

"Not hot enough," Loki mumbled.

It was only then that Stephen caught a split-second glimpse of the object sticking out from under Loki's arm, hidden within the folds of his dressing gown with the hope that it would escape Stephen's notice.

"What did you need a hot water bottle for?" Stephen asked suspiciously.

His alarm grew when Loki did not answer immediately. Was he not as gentle as he thought? "Did I hurt you?"

"Not…technically…" Loki mumbled.

"Care to elaborate?"

Loki's face began to turn burn. "I'm not quite sure how."

"Okay…" And since history-taking was one of the very first skills he had learnt as a doctor, "Let's start by telling me where it hurts."

Loki sighed at the realisation that there was simply no way around it.

The hot water bottle dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Loki released it so he could place a careful hand against his lower stomach. "The worst is here."

His hand then travelled upward to grasp his side. "Goes all the way here."

"And my back hurts too."

"What from? Was it something you ate?"

Loki shook his head.

Stephen quickly felt Loki's forehead with the hand not holding the ice pack. "You don't feel feverish. Any other symptoms?"

"I'm a bit nauseated and just generally shaky, but I think that's from the pain more than anything else really…" Even Loki's smile looked shaky. "Oh, and there was some blood too."

"Blood?" Stephen's voice shrilled. "Where from? How much blood? Dark or bright-red? Was it oozing, spurting, what? Why?"

But instead of worried, Loki looked embarrassed, very much so that his face was now crimson red.

"Umm…The English have landed," he muttered under his breath.

Stephen must have misheard him. "What?"

Loki tried again. "There are Communists in the funhouse."

Stephen stared at Loki in horror. Whatever illness Loki was succumbing to, it seemed to be affecting his mental faculties as well. "Babe, I think we need to get you to a hospital."

"Shark Week? Crimson Wave? Bloody Mary?" Loki grew more and more frustrated as with every euphemism, Stephen only managed to look more befuddled.

Loki finally snapped. "I am on the rag, Stephen!"

The outburst triggered a fresh eruption of pain deep within him and Loki barely had time to brace himself on the edge of the sink before he sank to his knees. "Fuck!"

Stephen momentarily set aside his utter surprise at Loki's sudden revelation for Stephen knew a real pain face when he saw one.

He hurriedly emptied the kettle into the hot water bottle and found what Loki did not accidentally spill on himself just about enough to fill it without having to boil any more.

He crouched down and pried Loki's grip off the sink. "Come. Let's get you back to bed."

At Loki's frantic nod, Stephen teleported them both back to the bedroom and Stephen helped Loki get into bed.

"Where did you get this from?" Stephen asked for he certainly did not own a hot water bottle, and it looked too generic and Midgardian to be Loki's.

He watched Loki hug it tightly to his stomach as he writhed on the bed for a position that hurt the least.

"Your good friend Wong said he procured it from this magical place called Walmart. Apparently, it has everything you could ever imagine, even things you didn't realise you needed."

"You went to Wong for help."

Loki looked confused.

"Even when I was sleeping right next to you."

Loki looked even more confused. "Yes. You were sleeping. Wong wasn't."

Stephen looked about five seconds away from tearing his hair out by the root from utter frustration.

"What?" Loki asked, baffled.

"Couldn't you have woken me up?"

"Why?"

"I was sleeping right next to you!" The more upset Stephen was, the more repetitive he became.

There must be something Loki was missing, but the monstrous pain in his stomach was maddening, and Stephen was not helping.

"Would you rather I slept next to Wong?" Loki snapped irritably. "For I am seriously considering it!"

He wrenched the blanket and wrapped it tightly around himself. "Do suffocate me further under the sheer weight of your utter lack of sympathy."

"I don't think you're Wong's type."

"I can be anybody's type," Loki snarled.

"I don't think anybody's Wong's type."

"Is that a dare, Strange?" Loki asked viciously.

That was a dangerous question, if Stephen ever heard one.

"Loki…let's not do this again." He fought to keep his voice level. It would not do to fight over something now when they could do it later once Loki was back to his fighting fit.

Stephen would rather focus on the current pressing issue at hand. "Do you need a…containment device of some sort?" He let out an embarrassed cough. "For the blood?"

Loki shook his head and ignored his question entirely. "You shouldn't have seen me like this."

It took Stephen a few long seconds to respond.

"I have never seen you like this," Stephen said. His voice was soft but his eyes were hard. "The fact that I have never seen you like this is making me quite upset."

"It's really nothing personal, Stephen. Just as you humans have a favourite hair-do or preferred way of dressing, I have a few skins I feel comfortable wearing, others not so much."

Loki flung an arm across his eyes and sighed heavily. "Apollo did warn me to change every few decades or so, if only for a day or two. Something about keeping the hormonal irregularities to a minimum, so the rebound would not shock my system so much."

"I must have left it too late or something," Loki muttered. "At the very least, shifting back has stopped the bleeding."

"But not the pain?" Stephen guessed.

Loki grunted. "These things come at the worst possible time."

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't birthdays supposed to be special for you humankind?"

"As far as social conventions go, I believe I have pleased everyone by cutting that cake last night. Everyone that mattered anyway."

"Hmm." Loki's forehead crinkled deeply and his breaths quickened.

Stephen watched in quiet concern as Loki's nose flared slightly with each controlled breath.

"Is it very bad?"

Loki hugged himself tighter as he battled to ride out the radiating waves of pain. He knew his scalded hand was burning too, but it paled in comparison to the beast clawing away in his belly. "In comparison to dying, no."

"And to living?"

The temptation to lie was strong, but Stephen could smell a lie better than anyone, even the slightest departure from the truth. Loki decided it was simply not worth the effort, but another cramp was coming, oh this one was going to hurt -

"Dire." Loki breathed out shakily once the spasm passed. "Best way to describe it is if someone socked you in the gut and kicked you in the nuts at the same time. Repeatedly."

At Stephen's stricken look, Loki gave a low chuckle, for they both knew if anyone could attest to the truth of the matter, it was him…or her, if you had asked her this morning when she awoke to a slick wetness between her legs she would have attributed to semen, had it not been for the scent of copper and the telltale cramps.

"Did you know this was going to happen to you?" Stephen asked quietly.

Loki needed only to hear the guilt in Stephen's voice to know that he had underestimated the depth of Stephen's feelings for him yet again.

"I am not given to romanticism…" He sought for Stephen's hand and was delighted to find it only a flick of the wrist away. "But I am not above a little self-sacrifice either."

"Loki…"

"Having said that, the answer is no, darling, I did not know."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know what you can do, really," Loki admitted. "No magic has been able to help with something as purely physiological as this."

After a hesitant pause, "No modern magic, at least."

"What do you mean?" As sharp as he was, Stephen did not miss a beat. There was a note of melancholic longing in Loki's voice that did not sit quite right with him.

"There was…a remedy someone used to make for me that could take the edge off," Loki said slowly. "Made from the tincture of the chalice hawkweed flower. Emrys worked on the recipe for years until he perfected it."

"Emrys?" Stephen stared.

"Myrddin Emrys?" Loki stared right back. "Merlin to you Anglo-Saxon speakers, if I am not wrong. Surely you have heard of him?"

Stephen's jaw tightened. "Where can I find this chalice hawkweed flower?"

Loki did not answer.

"If this Merlin could whip up magic morphine from a flower, so can I," Stephen said, his voice dangerously low.

"The last known habitat of chalice hawkweed was the township of Capel Celyn in the Afon Tryweryn Valley in Wales."

"Then to Capel Celyn I shall go." Stephen hastily tugged his gloves on, the Cloak already snug around his shoulders.

Loki's eyes were unreadable. "The British Government flooded the village back in 1965 to make a reservoir. You won't find it."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Not in this timeline anyway."

Loki tried to relax but it was getting more and more difficult what with the way his stomach was cramping so mercilessly, and an involuntary whimper escaped his lips. He had forgotten how painful it could be.

What irony. Here he was, in agonising pain, and sleeping with possibly the only man in the universe who could help him, whose very virtue and sense of duty prevented him from doing just that.

What cruel irony.

"It's alright Stephen. A few days of pain is a small price to pay to supply the City of Liverpool with running water, I think."

Stephen's only response was a low growl, "I'll be back."

Grandmaster. Apollo. Merlin.

I'll show them.

I'll show them all, Stephen raged inside.

"I'm back," Stephen announced loudly.

Loki looked absolutely wretched. His red-rimmed eyes were swollen and puffy, his face as white as a sheet.

"How are you feeling?" Stephen asked, his eyes a lot kinder than before.

"If you could kindly tell my dear Brother..." Loki pulled the blanket over his head once more. "No state funeral for me, please."

"No one dies from period pain, Loki," Stephen said dryly.

"How would you know. You've never felt it," Loki mumbled.

"Come on. Sit up."

"Would if I could." Loki's entire body was as stiff as a board from having contorted into a cocoon of pain for what felt like hours.

"Poor baby." Stephen pecked the top of Loki's head through the blanket and proceeded to excavate his boyfriend/girlfriend from under it. "Come on. Up."

"What's this?" Loki looked numbly at the capsules in his hand.

"Percocet. If it's not strong enough, I've also got morphine, oxymorphone, hydromorphone…"

Stephen made Loki swallow the painkillers down with a glass of water before he could think too much. "If after all that you're still in pain, I've got fentanyl, which is 50 to 100 times more potent than regular morphine."

"At this day and age, synthetic beats natural, at least when strong analgesia's concerned. And fentanyl is as synthetic as it gets." Take that, Merlin.

"Really."

"Really." Stephen plucked the glass from out of Loki's trembling hands.

"Please tell me you did something illegal to get me these wonder drugs of yours."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you." Stephen brushed back dark curls out of Loki's bruised eyes. Despite his sweat-soaked hair, Loki's skin felt clammy and ice-cold. "I'm still a registered medical practitioner, Loki. And as it happens, I know someone who knows someone who can get me the good stuff when I need it."

Loki's too-bright green eyes searched his face. "Christine?" he guessed quietly.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Christine's not my only friend, you know."

"Oh." Loki looked immediately grief-stricken and tried to disappear once more into Stephen's bedding.

"No, don't lie back down just yet."

"Hmm?" Loki asked, still disoriented in his haze of pain and misery.

Stephen produced a small bottle the size of his palm from out of nowhere.

"What's that?"

"Lavender oil."

"Smells like coconut."

"That's the carrier oil."

"Oh." Loki blinked blearily. "Am I supposed to drink this?"

Stephen shook his head. "Lift your shirt."

Loki mewled in protest but his protests died down as soon as Stephen's warm hands rubbed the oil in onto the tight muscles of his lower abdomen and back.

Stephen begins kneading Loki's stiff, aching muscles, alternating between his back and belly. He was especially gentle over Loki's tender abdomen. "Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop."

"No, that feels good," Loki purred, leaning into Stephen's ministrations. And what gifted, godly hands they were – Loki could feel the cramps loosening with each stroke of Stephen's warm hand.

Stephen's hands found their way to Loki's shoulders and resumed their massage all the way up the back of Loki's neck, finishing off with soothing circles over Loki's throbbing temples.

The last of Loki's nausea dissipated and he leaned back into Stephen's awaiting arms like melted candle wax.

"I think I've died and gone to Valhalla," he sighed in content.

"Not just yet, darling."

"Hmm?" Loki opened his eyes to Stephen waving a strange, Twinkie-sized object wrapped in brown and orange packaging under his nose.

" 'Snickers Max Caramel'," Loki read aloud. "What does this do?"

"It's chocolate. In ice cream form it fixes everything."

"It does?" Loki wrinkled his nose at it suspiciously.

Stephen unwrapped it and held it out expectantly. Loki took a tentative bite out of the ice cream bar and hummed appreciatively. "How fascinating."

Stephen leaned Loki against the headboard, cushioning his lover's head and neck by circling his own arm around Loki's shoulders. "How's the pain now?"

"It's fading." Loki sounded surprised and a hell of a lot relieved. "What a marvelous creation, this frozen confection."

"Good."

He watched Loki eat the rest of the ice cream slowly.

"You have nothing to worry about you, know," Stephen said quietly. "About me and Christine."

Loki's hand stilled.

Stephen brought Loki's hand to his lips and licked away the melted ice cream dripping down the side of Loki's little finger. "There is only you."

Loki quietly unwrapped the rest of the ice cream bar and offered the last of it to Stephen, who took it into his mouth dutifully. "You have nothing to worry about too, you know."

"Yeah?" Stephen mumbled through a mouthful of caramel ice cream and peanuts and chocolate pieces.

Loki kissed him fully, tasting absolutely marvelous and icy and chocolatey. "Yeah."

Stephen magicked the mess away and pulled Loki in closer. His palm cupped the cradle of Loki's belly. "Better?"

"Much." Loki laid his head on Stephen's chest and tugged his boyfriend's arm tighter around his waist. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry, Stephen," he felt the rumble of Loki's murmur against his T-shirt.

"What for?"

"I ruined your special day," Loki mumbled. "Thor says birthdays on Midgard are to be celebrated, especially if it is your significant other's."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Loki," Stephen reassured him with a chuckle. "This is turning out to be the most memorable birthday I've ever had."

He brushed a light kiss against Loki's temple. "But please. No more surprises next time, alright?"

"It's only once a year, Stephen."

"A year or a thousand, I don't ever want to see you in pain."

"Even if the sex is good?"

"Even if the sex is very good."

"Okay." Loki yawned. The medication was making him quite drowsy; he could barely keep his eyes open. "I should just buy you a card next time. I'll ask Wong if Walmart the magic store has those."

"You do that." Stephen breathed in the soothing aroma that was lavender and love and Loki and wrapped his arms tighter around his birthday present, the most special one he had ever received. "You do that."

THE END