"So…"

"So?"

After the roof, they had raided the pantry for a near-midnight snack (day old cinnamon rolls, which in Stephen's opinion tasted all the sweeter for the company that he shared them with), and now they were standing on the second floor landing, just down the hall from the Sanctum living quarters, as Hope hedged her way towards the question that appeared to be as much on her mind as it was on Stephen's. "Sooooo…I was sort of hoping it would be alright for me to spend the night here…"

A devilishly pleased smile tickled the corners of his mouth as he tried his best not to rush a very predictable answer. She was trying her level best to be casual about the subject-though his instincts told him it was as important to her as it was to him. And she looked slightly flummoxed and completely adorable while doing so. "I mean, there's no subway service between here and home, and what buses are running haven't held to any kind of schedule…and by this time of night, they're probably not running at all…so it would be ages by the time I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge for home…"

Stephen had been nodding sympathetically, and his smile wanted to fill his whole face, but he tempered his voice to sound calm and nonchalant, rather than how he really felt-extremely pleased and eager at the prospect. Eager enough to let himself 'forget' the quick remedy creating a portal to her apartment would present. "Well, yes," he told her instead, "Yes, of course you're welcome to stay here tonight, Hope." And then, upon seeing her sweet smile of relief, he couldn't help but admit, "I was sort of hoping that you would." Well, more than sort of, he thought, but there's no need to be too obvious about it.

"Really?" she sighed, beaming.

"Absolutely." Oh, how elated he felt, seeing how pleased he had made her! "We've got plenty of room here, too," he told her, silently reveling in the happy light of her eyes, "You can used the guest quarters across the hall from mine…if that's, uh…something that would work for you…"

Hope stepped into him, all soft and guileless, and laid one hand on his chest, "Well, I…um…if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, I was thinking maybe I could room with you tonight…just…just this once."

Stephen had been barely nodding, studying the gentle expectancy upon her face, and thinking that he probably looked pretty foolish from the sappy grin he must be wearing. "I didn't want to presume…but that…that would be really nice…"

"Really, really nice," she echoed, punctuating her delight with a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then adding a little breathlessly, "So, how about you show me the way?"

He exhaled slowly, wishing he had the restraint to play it cool, while thinking that Hope had to be able to see how this delicious turn of events-and the prospects it entailed-was affecting him. "Alrighty, then…" Stephen let his voice drop into a low caress, noting that her eyes had widened at the sound. He flicked his hand, and the lights along the walls flickered to life, with soft light just enough to let them see their way down the hall. "Follow me," he told her, allowing himself to gaze upon on her lips a moment, before adding, "If you dare…"

"I'd follow you anywhere, Stephen," she returned huskily, meeting his regard with equal impudence, "Anywhere…and then some."

With little effort, Stephen had magiked Hope's backpack to sit on the bottom of his bed, so that it was waiting for her the moment they opened the door. "Wow, this is bigger than I expected-and a lot less austere."

"What were you expecting," he chuckled, "A monk's cell?"

"Something like," Hope shrugged, turning in a slow circle to take in the whole room. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, "And what smells so good? It's very familiar…and it reminds me of something…though I don't think I've smelled it for years…"

"Frankincense. And cedarwood. I burn them when I meditate…"

"Yes," she exclaimed, "Frankincense. I remember it from when I was a kid." Hope looked back to him, "They burned it in church, but only at the most solemn masses. I used to love that," she added, "I looked forward to those masses every year."

"It's an ancient tradition in many faiths," he told her, moving to light the little cone of fragrance that sat on his bedside table, "And it's been proven to help open the mind and spirit to the mystical-as well as having some fascinating healing properties."

Hope perched on the edge of his bed, "It's very soothing, isn't it?" She watched him boldly, clearly waiting for him to join her.

Seeing such an invitation in her eyes, Stephen's heart was sketching an eager little tap dance, while a pleasant ache-which was anything but soothing-coursed through his veins, threatening to override his best intentions. Somehow, he managed to maintain a semblance of decorum, "I'm, uh…just gonna jump in the shower first…" He motioned towards the bathroom. "But please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything before I…" He trailed off at the mischievous quirk of her smile.

"Um…sure," she sighed, a trace of disappointment in her reply, "Could I borrow something to sleep in?"

A little surprised by her request, Stephen paused to think a moment. "Oh, yeah. I can get you one of the loose fitting garments the Adepts use for training exercises."

He started for the door, but Hope called him back. "Stephen, I can just make do with an old tee shirt, if you've got one."

"Right." I might have thought of that myself if my hormones weren't shouting at me full force at the moment. "Help yourself, honey. I've got a few tucked away in the second dresser drawer there."

"Thanks." Her quiet smile made him wonder if she had somehow read his all too frank thoughts as her eyes lingered on his, "Don't be too long, Stephen…okay?"

His mouth felt too dry to answer smoothly, so that he only nodded—vigorously-before he slipped into the bathroom.

Impatient to get back to Hope, Stephen had foregone the long, hot shower he'd originally planned on, opting for a quick and-thinking to cool his ardor a bit-rather lukewarm one instead. He had only hastily towel-dried his hair-though he had taken care to grab his softest tee along with his best pair of pajama bottoms to don once he was dry, and had brushed his teeth fastidiously. It had been a few Earth years since he'd spent any kind of night with a woman-and in mental years, he had racked up at least a couple thousand years of life experience using the Time Stone to defend Earth from Dormammu and to explore the millions of timelines on his way to the ultimate one to come. He had to wonder if after all that time, he might blow their tryst in some unanticipated, ridiculous way.

Stephen stood at his bathroom door, drawing on his training to control his breathing, to calm his nerves, to make himself the picture of cool composure. He tried not to imagine anything beyond the moment he would enter his room, intending with all heart to wait patiently enough to allow their time together to unfold naturally.

Upon opening the door, Stephen saw that Hope had piled a couple of his pillows against the headboard, so she could read comfortably while she waited for him, having selected a text on Astral Projection. Probably not the lightest reading she could have picked, he decided, but a nice try to learn a bit about what I do. She'd loosed her hair from its clip, which lay discarded on the bedside table, and had chosen wisely from his tee shirt collection. Pink Floyd's 'The Dark Side of the Moon'. He smiled to think that she had chosen it because he had mentioned their Comfortably Numb as one of his favorite tunes, likely remembering that minor detail from weeks and weeks ago when they were first getting to know one another.

Barefoot, he padded across the Persian rug to the opposite side of the bed, suddenly feeling out of place in his own room, simultaneously feeling the full weight of the possibilities that lay ahead for them. Hope shut the book and set it aside, and then patted the space beside her. "I was feeling a little lonely while you were gone," she told him, playing a bit of the coquette as she batted her eyes and fluffed her thick, auburn waves with one hand, "But I just kept reminding myself that good things come to those who wait."

The best things, he considered wryly, and in your case, Hope, it's as if I've waited about a thousand years. Stephen recalled their beginning; that first night when he'd tried to reach for the stars, and she hadn't been quite ready for that; he had known even then that however long the wait would be until she was, it would absolutely be worth it. In the two months since that night, he had been more circumspect, for a variety of reasons, and though they had never discussed it, he had been aware that Hope was puzzled at the delay in the natural progression of their relationship. However, every sign she gave him now confirmed that she shared what he'd been feeling as their hours had together passed. He planned to savor every moment, every breath and kiss and touch that they would share, so to carry them with him into the thorny future that awaited, as the sweetest sort of recompense for the sacrifices he had already made, and for those yet to come.

First covering her mouth as she yawned, and then shaking it off, Hope smiled warmly, watching as he stood beside the bed.

"If we're lucky…very, very lucky…yes, they do," he averred, dimming the lamplight with a pass of his hand across the shade, "And I believe we're both well overdue for a share of…of the good things. Stephen flipped back the coverlet and the sheet, and then settled in beside her, finally stretching his arm around her and pulling her close.

She gave a long sigh as she laid her head against his shoulder and her hand upon his chest. "If you had told me this morning that this is where I'd be tonight, I wouldn't have believed it," she confided. "Thank you for being here, Stephen. For opening that door, and for taking me in, and…and…hmmm…" Hope yawned again, longer and deeper that the first. "For letting me lean on you so much, especially after all the hells that you've been through."

"Oh, honey," he protested gently, "If any thanks are due, they're mine to give. Because you've been exactly what I need to restore my strength. To remind me that there will be light after all the darkness and loss and pain I've been witness to." And borne as well, he thought, but knew he needn't remind her of it. Stephen laid his hand over hers, speaking softly as his breathing came to match the quiet rhythm of her own, "To show me a forgiveness which I could never find within myself." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

She moved to lean up on her elbow, blinking several times while she studied his face. "No matter what happens, you remember that, Stephen Strange," she demanded most gently, drowsiness evident in her every feature, beguiling his heart with her effort to stay awake for his sake. "I won't be around to remind you, so you need to keep that close at heart." Her dear little pout—again for his sake—had him pressing his lips together against an outright grin, and nodding in obedience.

"I will, baby," he promised, watching her try her best and still fail to stifle another yawn, then catching it from her, and yawning back. She looked so soft and truly quite ready for slumber, struggling to keep her eyes wide open. He tucked two fingers beneath her chin, tilted her face close and chastely kissed her forehead, before insisting, "But now I think you need to get some sleep…" Hope opened her mouth to object, but he shook his head, "Nope. Doctor's orders on this one, honey. A good night's rest, and we can discuss this some more in the morning, if we need to."

"Wait…I thought we would…we finally would…" she mumbled, but it was already clear he'd won his point, as he prompted her to lay her head against him again. She nestled into him, just as if it was her natural place to be. "I'm so sorry, Stephen," she managed, "I swear, the spirit is willing-more willing than it's ever been…"

"But the flesh is oh so weak," he finished, smiling still and feeling an eternal sort of patience. He kissed her forehead, "I think we both could us a long nap. And I'll be happy just to hold you for now, honey."

"And you'll still be here in the morning? Can you promise me that?"

"Cross my heart," he swore. Stephen felt her relax fully at that. "Like I told you earlier-for once, I have all the time in the world."

Hope nodded, grateful for his patience, and then shimmied onto her side. Stephen followed, big spoon to her little spoon, settling his arm across her abdomen, while noting with a pang of wistful regret that she was only wearing panties in addition to his tee shirt. Her warm, soft curves felt a perfect fit to him, so that he moaned without meaning to, at the unintended temptation she presented.

"Are you alright?" she asked, moving her hand atop his to keep it firmly in place, and then weaving her fingers through his.

Stephen nuzzled her hair, smiling to himself at the mix of honest concern and sleepiness in her voice. "I'm fine, sweetheart," he reassured her, loving even the feel of her fingers threaded through his, "Better than I've been in…forever, I suppose."

"Good…you deserve that and more, darling…" Hope nestled her head deeper into the pillow, mumbling something further that he couldn't quite catch, as sleep finally overtook her.

Stephen pressed his lips to her hair, gently so as not to wake her. Just holding Hope this way was a bliss he never imagined would be his-not now, or ever, as the gravest choice he had ever made, waited to be played out. Such an unanticipated mercy that he realized it would be greedy of him to expect the universe to grant him more. No matter what came with daylight, she had shown him in every way he needed that she saw the very best of him, without fail—and that she longed to give him the very best of herself. He could think of no better comfort to take with him into his rest.

Stephen had always had an impeccable sense of time-more than just 'timing', but time itself—well before he had mastered the powers of the Time Stone. He had prided himself on his punctuality as a student, as a resident, and as a world class surgeon, and that aspect of his reputation had kept his interns and staff constantly on their toes, eager to please him in imitating that good habit. Moreover, he had never really needed his collection of pricey, luxury timepieces for any practical purpose, for he usually just knew a close approximation of the time without even checking his watch. That irony had not been lost upon him when he discovered that he could wield The Eye of Agamotto, when so many, far more experienced sorcerers could not. Waking up in his darkened room, he felt disoriented for a few seconds, and quickly estimated that he'd been asleep for nearly four hours, and that the dawn would be upon them soon.

Sometime during the night, Hope had turned in his arms to face him, so that her legs were tangled with his (her bare legs, he remembered, while a flush of heat filled his belly), and her forehead was pressed to his chest. Her drowsy warmth laying so immediately against him was soothing, though it reawakened his longing for so much more, that fundamental imperative that had been quickening his blood through the many hours they had spent together. Stephen knew that Hope had been feeling it too, and that only the sheer exhaustion from everything she had experienced since The Snap, had come between them-though he had already resolved that if it wasn't going to happen for them this night, this quiet little interlude of peace and comfort would still be enough to brace him for the grueling work that lay ahead.

Yes, he maintained, this can be enough; the sweetest memory to hold onto not only through the terrible task that has fallen upon me, but in the bitter aftermath, when accusing eyes will look to me to justify the sacrifice that couldn't be avoided. Stephen suspected that he'd face the worst of those accusations just looking in the mirror, come the other side of the penultimate battle.

He closed his eyes, barely tightening his arms around his dear Hope, thinking to drowse a bit longer himself, when she stretched a little and snuggled her head further against him. "Mmmmm," she nearly purred, a sound like rich, dark, melted chocolate that could only leave him craving more, "…this is…nice…mmmmm…"

"It's very nice," he rumbled back, nestling his nose and lips in her hair, while staying the impulse to go for even more.

"You kept the nightmares away," she told him dreamily, sounding as though she could sink back into sleep in a heartbeat, "Thank you…"

He smiled as he kissed the crown of her head, "Glad to be of service, honey. Anytime…"

Hope hummed at that, and slid her hand onto the side of his neck, the heat in that single touch guaranteeing that he wouldn't be falling back to sleep any time soon. She raised her head and leaned in close enough to begin kissing his throat ever so softly, and then gliding her lips to pamper him with kisses all along his jawline to beneath his ear.

Stephen moaned, giving into her gentle persuasion; the softness she lavished upon him felt so good, so right, relaxing him even as the heat in his blood began to rise. "This is verrrrry nice, honey," he sighed, taking deep, slow breaths while she traced his skin with patient, insistent kisses.

"Yes," she breathed onto his flesh, moistening her lips and making him shiver when she lightly stroked her thumb along his cheekbone, before threading her fingers in his hair. "And I don't want to wait a single minute more…"

"Oh, gawd, no…" he groaned, "…not even a second more." She gave a little 'oompf' when he surprised her by shifting his body to rise above her, giving into the longing to see her face, wanting so badly to drink in the sight if her wanting him with equal hunger. Swift to comply with his unspoken need, Hope turned onto her back, gazing up as him in a wonder that answered his own; wonder that their time had come at last. Stephen breathed hard, staying himself from too abruptly claiming everything she was offering him. Carefully pausing in order to make his feelings clear. Artlessly, but from his heart, he stammered, "Hope…baby…you've been my oasis…my…my unasked for miracle…"

She nodded and smiled up at him, her eyes moist at all the unexpressed meaning that had grown between them.

"…you are the breath in my lungs right now…and you'll be my breath even after I…after I have to leave here. And I don't want to love you…make love to you…and then have to leave you this way, because you deserve so much better than that." He closed his eyes and swallowed back the bittersweet of the moment, and then looked to her again, "But I can't change that fate. So knowing all this, please…please tell me what you want me to do."

Her breath caught, but she did not hesitate. "Oh, Stephen…my Stephen…" Soothingly, she laid her hand against his cheek, "I want it all…I want everything…everything…with you. Even before you opened your door, I knew that I could trust you with all that I am." She bit her lip and her eyes shone bright for him, "I knew that my heart would be safe…so safe…in your beautiful hands."

Stephen leaned down and brushed his lips on hers, humbled again by her generous regard.

"There's just one thing I need to know," Hope whispered, while he let his mouth hover above hers, awaiting their next deep kiss, as she stroked her fingertips along his jaw, "Tell me, honestly…have we come this far before? In any of those other timelines, when I came here to see you, did we…make love before?"

He took a moment to answer, thinking surely his expression must be answer enough; looking at her wondrously, the corners of his mouth ticking up just slightly, giving the barest shake of his head. Stephen was taking in her every detail, memorizing the soft blush of desire that colored her cheeks and the steady cadence of her breath. Drinking in the deep blue of her eyes, made darker by the low light in the room. Setting that particular shade of blue in his mind as eternally hers; marking it forever as Hope's blue. "No, honey. I swear on my soul-no." He pursed his lips in a small, patient smile. "Not that I wasn't tempted-but we never even spent the night together. I always left you at the door of your guest quarters. Because anything else wouldn't have been fair to you. Because I never told you everything before, like I have this time…not that I told you everything to get us to this point. I just needed someone, somehow, to understand what I've been through."

In tender understanding, she took up where he left off, "This is the final time you'll be here before the end, isn't it? And then you won't be coming back for a long, long time after. This…this is the time that pays for all…"

"Yes, baby…it pays for everything that's happened in the past…and everything that waits further down the road."

Her eyes widened a moment, as her understanding of what he left unsaid registered, nodding her acceptance of the uncertainty the future held for them as a pair. "Good. That's good," she finally murmured, teasing his lower lip with hers as a promise of what was to come between them, "I want this to be as special for you as it is for me. The first time for us both, like it would have been if the world hadn't been turned upside down…"

Overcome by need as much by wonder at his wise and gentle woman, Stephen stopped her words, her very breath; stopped them short with a searing kiss that spoke his feelings for her more immediately than any words ever could. Hope ran her hands through his hair, holding on tight, holding onto him as though his kiss was the only sustenance she might ever need. When they finally broke, to draw ragged breath, she moved her hands to hold his face, willing his eyes open. In hers he saw a quiet desperation, a need that equaled all that he was feeling. "Love me now, Stephen," she begged, though he knew himself to be the true beggar of the two, "Love me now—and like there's no tomorrow." She left unsaid that which both knew to be true.

They had no tomorrow to look forward.