Archive of Our Own

Then

The sound of his mom knocking on his door drew him from his book—mom had worried that the Lord of the Rings was ‘too old’ for Stephen, but Stephen had begged and begged until she’d let him get it from the library. He looked up to find his mom poking her head through the gap between door and doorframe. “Stephen, sweetheart, your sister and I were going to make some pie.”

“Okay.” He turned back to his book, Frodo had just been stabbed by one of the Ringwraiths and—

“Stephen.” His mom was using her ‘pay attention, please’ voice and Stephen reluctantly looked up from his book again. “Join us.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m reading, mom.” He held up his book to prove it, though it was big enough his mom couldn’t have missed it.

“And you have been all morning. Come make pie with us and then you and Donna should get some fresh air.”

He had not been reading all morning! He’d had to do his chores first and those had taken forever, especially since Daffodil had tried to murder him with her beak this morning when he’d tried to get her eggs. For a hen, she was surprisingly vicious. The pastor at church that mom made him and Donna go to had talked about demon possession and Stephen was starting to suspect that maybe that was real and not just something the pastor made up to scare them.

Because Daffodil was definitely possessed.

“But mom.”

”Stephen—“

“Mom, mom, mom—” Donna’s voice, accompanied by feet pounding up the stairs, interrupted whatever his mom had been about to say. “I read the instructions. The pie needs to be in the refrigerator for hours. I’m already hungry!”

His mom turned her head to address Donna. “We’ll eat lunch first. We can have pie as a belated dessert.”

“That’s the worst,” he heard Donna mutter, just before his door flew open and Donna burst into the room, jumping onto his bed and making it bounce beneath him. “Whatcha reading?” she asked, shoving herself between him and the book to get a better look.

“The Lord of the Rings,” Stephen said, trying to move the book so that she wasn’t in the way.

“Sounds boring,” Donna said. “I’d want to be Lord of The…” She paused. “Lord of the Mountains.”

“You’ve never even seen a mountain,” Stephen pointed out, wrinkling his nose. “How do you know you’d want to be Lord of them?”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Donna said. “And mom said we can go to Hoggy mountain—”

“Hogback,” his mom corrected.

“That,” Donna agreed. “Next year.” She shook her head. “Are you coming to help with the pie?” she asked. She didn’t wait for him to answer before wrapping her hands around his forearm and tugging. “We need to start now, because it takes forever.”

“I’m reading, Donna.”

Donna blinked at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Stephen. I want to make the pie with you.”

Stephen hesitated, but then sighed and put the book to the side. “Fine,” he said. “What kind of pie are we making anyways?”

Donna beamed at him. “Kool-Aid pie! Doesn’t that sound sooo yummy? It’s going to be the best!”

“Stephen, Stephen, Stephen!” Donna’s voice was bright and excited as she raced out the door to the backyard where they had their small vegetable garden. She and their mom had gone shopping while Stephen finished his chores from this morning—he’d stayed up all night reading, and had slept through his dad waking him up.

Weeding the tomato section of the garden was the last one on his list, but it was taking forever.

“What?” he asked Donna grumpily. He hated weeding.

“Mom bought Kool-Aid and whipped cream!” she told him, voice bright with excitement. “She said you and me can make some pie!”

Stephen looked up, unable to stop the grin from spreading on his face. They’d made Kool-Aid pie almost every week last year, but this would be the first time this summer. “I can’t,” he said. “I need to finish weeding the tomatoes.”

Donna’s face scrunched a little in thought, then she plopped down next to him. “I’ll help,” she said. “Then we can get to pie faster.”

Well, Stephen wasn’t going to complain about that. Less weeding for him and making pie sooner felt like two whole wins.

They finished weeding quickly and Donna jumped to her feet, grabbing his hand and tugging him up. “Come on,” she said. “We got raspberry Kool-Aid, which is the best.”

“I’m coming,” Stephen told her, tripping a little on his feet. He felt like he was always tripping these days and mom had told him that it was just a growth spurt and that he’d grow into his feet someday.

The ingredients were out on the counter, waiting for them. They’d gotten really good at making pie, and they didn’t even need their mom’s help, anymore.

Stephen washed his hands, making Donna do the same, before turning to the ingredients. His stomach rumbled a little. Mom would make them eat lunch before they were allowed pie, but that might be a good thing, because the pie took forever to get ready in the refrigerator.

Donna had grabbed the can opener and was trying to open the sweetened condensed milk and Stephen helped her. “Get the Kool-Aid pack and the bowl, Donna,” he ordered and Donna cheerfully left him to open the can.

They had a well-worn system, now, after making them so much last year and it felt like no time at all before they’d stuck it into the refrigerator.

“Perfect,” Donna said, sounding pleased. She paused. “Now what do we do?”

“Let’s go to the lake,” Stephen suggested. “You almost beat me in our race last time, I bet you can do it this time.” Their dad called Donna a fish with how fast she swam. Stephen had been a little put out that he’d never been called a fish, but then realized he didn’t like swimming that much anyways.

Donna grinned at him, bright and a little crooked. “Let’s go!”

“It’s your birthday, next week, Donna,” their mom said, dropping the last can of beans into the taco soup she was making for dinner. “Do you want chocolate cake or carrot cake?”

Stephen looked up from where he was peeling carrots for their salad to eye Donna. He hoped she said chocolate, he loved chocolate cake.

Donna’s lips were pursed and she tilted her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulder; the tips fell into the salad bowl.

Stephen made a face. Gross.

“I want Kool-Aid pie,” she decided after a moment.

Stephen groaned. “Chocolate, Donna!”

She shook her head. “Kool-Aid pie,” she said. “Kool-Aid pie is the best.”

“But Don—”

“It’s her birthday, Stephen,” their mom said. There was a laugh in her voice. “We’ll have chocolate cake on your birthday.”

That was forever away; he told his mom so.

“It’s a month away, honey. You’ll survive the deprivation.”

Deprivation. Stephen needed to look that word up. He could guess what it meant, but guessing wasn’t good enough when he could know, instead.

“Kool-Aid pie,” Donna repeated. “Raspberry,” she added, as though they didn’t all know that raspberry was her favorite.

Their mom laughed. “Raspberry Kool-Aid pie it is,” she agreed. “At least you make my life easy.”

Stephen would have preferred chocolate cake, but he supposed the Kool-Aid pie was okay.

It was cold.

It was always cold, or at least it felt that way, but the dark clouds in the sky and the fact that the old heater had broken last week meant that this time, he was pretty sure the cold was real and not just in his head.

His mom had said that someday it would be better, but Stephen didn’t believe her. It was never going to be warm again.

Today, though, today was worse than normal.

Today was Donna’s birthday.

“Dinner, Stephen!” His mom’s call echoed up the stairs and for a moment, Stephen thought about ignoring it. But then she’d come up to talk to him and Stephen would have to see that pain in her eyes.

He’d heard her, once, tell dad that sometimes she thought she’d lost Stephen, too, when Donna had fallen through the ice four years ago. Stephen sometimes wondered if she was right.

Stephen trudged down the stairs.

“Set the table, would you, Stephen?” his mom asked when he made it down.

He nodded silently and grabbed the plates from the cupboard and set them on the table, grabbing the forks and glasses.

The juice was in the refrigerator and he opened the door, searching for the apple juice. He froze.

There was a pie on one of the shelves, the filling a light pink and the edges of graham cracker crust edging just above it. Something sick curdled in his chest.

“What’s that?” he demanded, turning to look at his mom. His voice came out shaky and he hated it. “What’s that?” he pointed at the pie, sitting there innocuously.

His mom turned to look at him, and her gaze followed his pointed finger. “Stephen.” Her voice was soft. “I thought that maybe this year—”

“That’s Donna’s pie,” he yelled, voice cracking on Donna’s name. “Why would you make that!?” Donna was gone, gone, gone.

“I thought we could—”

“No!” He didn’t care what she had to say. Not when she would… not when she would pretend like they could just eat Donna’s pie when Donna wasn’t there to eat it with them. “You shouldn’t have made it! You shouldn’t have—” he took a choked breath, the words catching in his throat. “You don’t even miss her. You’re just trying to pretend she’s not—” he couldn’t, couldn’t say the words. “She is, though! She is!”

There were tears in his mom’s eyes. “Stephen—”

“No!” No, no, no, no, no. He suddenly couldn’t be here. He slammed the refrigerator door shut, heard the insides rattle. “You don’t… you don’t care!”

The stairs seemed to shudder beneath his feet as he raced up the stairs.

He slammed the door to his bedroom as hard as he could and threw himself onto his bed. His breathing felt harsh and heavy in his chest and he stuttered over the air, trying desperately to get enough.

Donna was gone. Gone, gone, gone. And his mom didn’t care. Trying to pretend like they could just move on. They couldn’t. Stephen couldn’t.

A sob broke through his gasping breaths and he clutched at his pillow, pulling it tight to his chest like it could soften the blows that never seemed to stop coming.

He heard his door creak open and the soft footsteps of his mom.

“Go away,” he said. He’d meant to yell the words, but they came out broken and trembling, instead.

His mom sat on the bed next to him, and he felt the soft touch of a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry, Stephen,” she whispered. “I know how much you miss her. I thought this would help. So we could remember the good times we had with her.”

It wouldn’t help.

Nothing could possibly help.

His mom kept running his hand through his hair. “I miss her, too.” There was a watery sound to her words. “I just wanted to remember… she loved that pie.” His mom’s breath was a little ragged and for a moment her hand stilled where she was still running it through his hair. “But we don’t have to. I’ll let the neighbors take it. You know the Jackson boys love the pie.”

Stephen would prefer to throw it away. Instead he nodded. Anything to get the pie out of here. Out of their lives.

Kool-Aid pie was Donna’s.

And Donna was gone.

-_-

Now

“—and then I was going through TikTok—” Stephen winced at even the mention of that app. Ever since Peter had downloaded it, there had been a sudden excess of nonsensical verbiage, an increase in memes Stephen didn’t understand, and a truly exorbitant number of dance videos—though Tony had reluctantly acknowledged that U was enjoying the chance to record Peter’s videos for him—as Peter and Ned tried to ‘go viral’. Stephen’s experience with things that ‘went viral’ was all bad, so he didn’t understand why that was the goal, but he apparently also didn’t understand the new days of social media. ”—and I found the coolest recipe. Ned and I were going to make it this weekend, we bought the supplies and everything, but then he got a date.”

“Good for Ned,” Tony said from where he was leaning against Stephen, skimming through what looked like a project proposal. “Why don’t you do it with MJ?”

“MJ doesn’t like TikTok,” Peter admitted. “She says that TikTok is constructed to destroy people’s self esteem while also eviscerating people’s already limited attention spans and encouraging addictive behaviors.”

Stephen thought MJ probably had a point about that, but he wasn’t about to say as much to Peter. Peter and Ned’s TikTok videos was some of the most teenage behaviors he’d ever seen from Peter. He couldn’t help but think that it was good that Peter remembered that he was still a teenager when for so long he’d made Spiderman almost the entirety of his identity.

Tony had agreed when Stephen had mentioned it, which was probably one of the reasons Tony had suggested U help Peter and Ned with their videos. Stephen had heard May say something similar to Tony during one of their group dinners at May’s apartment while Peter and Ned had been cleaning up dirty dishes, leaving the adults to ‘chat’—aka check in with each other on how Peter was doing.

“Well, you can always wait a week,” Stephen suggested.

“But people are doing their reaction videos now,” Peter complained, nose wrinkling in disdain. “Next week will be too late.”

Tony and Stephen exchanged glances. Right. Too late.

“Well, you can always do it alone.”

Peter looked unhappy at the prospect. “Or…” he said, expression changing to one of pleading. “One of you two can do it with me.”

Stephen snorted, hearing Tony do the same. “Not likely, kid,” Tony said.

“Not a chance,” Stephen corrected. Under no circumstances was he going to be on TikTok. That just seemed like an absolute disaster.

“Come on,” Peter wheedled. “It will be fun. It’s Kool-Aid pie! Who doesn’t want to make Kool-Aid pie!?”

Stephen froze, ice crawling down his spine.

“Excuse me?” Tony asked, setting aside his tablet. “Did you just say Kool-Aid pie? Because that sounds like something that should not exist.”

“The video said it was ‘refreshing’,” Peter argued. “The ‘pie of summer’.”

“I remain absolutely unconvinced,” Tony said.

They both looked at him. “What do you think, Doctor Strange?” Peter asked eagerly. “Don’t you think Kool-Aid pie sounds delicious?”

Emotion curdled in Stephen’s gut. He stood abruptly, feeling Tony fall a little where he’d been leaning against Stephen. “I need to—” he didn’t finish, striding out of the room quickly so that he wouldn’t have to finish the response.

He heard Peter’s voice, tilted up in question but the words were indistinct past the buzzing in his ears.

Stephen strode almost desperately through the Sanctum, trying to escape the thoughts in his head that were demanding his attention, trying to break free from mental chains that had grown almost brittle with age and years of having gone almost unused.

He pushed open the trapdoor to the roof, climbing up the ladder until he had made it out onto the safety of the Sanctum’s roof with the sun beating down on him and the faintest of breezes easing the summer heat. Memories were pounding against his skull, laughter echoing in his ears. Stephen swallowed back another bout of emotion as he forced his legs to move him to the Sanctum’s roof garden.

The bench was stable and steady beneath him as he fell gracelessly onto it. He buried his face in his hands, and knew, deep down, that the shake in his hands was more than just the nerve damage. The wind rustled the leaves of the apple tree behind him, a quiet comfort from the universe that felt suddenly cold and cruel.

He couldn’t be sure how long he sat there, trying to block out the world.

“Come on, Stephen! There’s not enough whip cream!” Donna argued. Her hands were fisted on her hips and she was looking at him with demand in her eyes.

“We used the whole container, Donna!” Stephen argued right back. They’d scraped the whole thing and then Donna had licked it clean. “Mom won’t let us open a new one.”

Donna’s nose wrinkled in displeasure. “But we’ll only use a little!”

“Don’t even think about it, you two,” Mom called from the living room. “You’re going to give us all cavities.”

“But Mooom,” Donna complained, darting through the kitchen and to the living room to try to convince mom in person.

Stephen shook his head and kept mixing the pie filling. Personally, he thought it was already perfect. He glanced in the direction Donna had gone before sticking his finger into the mixture and sneaking a taste.

Yeah, he thought, definitely perfect.

There was noise beside him and then the seat shifted as someone sat next to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stephen said, knowing without looking that Tony had found him. “I… It’s fine, Tony.”

Tony didn’t answer immediately. “We don’t have to talk about it,” Tony said finally. “You know I won’t make you. But please don’t lie to me.”

Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, then nodded. “I will be,” he said. “I just… I needed a moment.”

“It’s been two hours, Stephen,” Tony said quietly.

Stephen startled at that. Two hours? He hadn’t thought it had been that long. “Peter?”

“He’s in the compound,” Tony said. “He and U are recording for his next video. There’s flossing involved.”

Flossing? “He’s going to floss on camera?” he asked. “Why would he want to let anyone see him floss?” Maybe he was getting old, but dental hygiene felt like a thing that should still be private.

Tony laughed. “It’s a dance move, Stephen.”

Stephen looked up and blinked at Tony, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Who in the world called a dance move ‘flossing’? “Right, I knew that.”

“I’m sure you did.” Tony leaned into him, their shoulders pressing together. “Peter asked if he could teach us. I told him you’d love that.”

Excuse him!? The words were almost enough to startle away the heavy weight in his chest. “Do I look like I want to learn a dance move called ‘flossing’?” Stephen asked, entirely unimpressed. “If you’re going to sign up anyone to learn how to dance from Peter, you better be signing yourself up.”

Tony’s nose wrinkled. “It’s called flossing, Stephen. No chance in hell.”

“You’ve done worse,” Stephen said, finding himself relaxing just a little with Tony next to him. He leaned to the side, turning a little so he could press his forehead to the side of Tony’s head. Tony shifted so that their foreheads touched. Stephen centered himself on Tony’s presence, took strength in it. “I give it two weeks before you give in.”

“You underestimate me,” Tony said. “I’m not giving in unless you do.”

Stephen scoffed and pulled away from Tony a little. “I suppose Peter’s going to have to survive neither of us learning his dance, then.”

Tony hummed in agreement, and they fell silent again. Stephen turned his gaze towards the horizon, the New York skyline seemed both imposing and comforting as the sun started to sink beneath the buildings beyond them. It was beautiful. It was home.

New York was the place he’d run to the moment he was old enough to leave Nebraska behind. Sometimes he felt like he’d been running for years. Running from the pain. From the fear. From the loss.

A touch to his palm startled him as Tony’s hand found his, fingers sliding to intertwine gently with his. Tony didn’t squeeze, but his thumb ran gently back and forth over the side of Stephen’s hand. Stephen wondered when Tony had gotten this patient. Because it definitely wasn’t a normal thing. Tony was infamously impatient, actually. Always pushing further and faster, often more than was wise.

But for now, Tony was patient, waiting for Stephen to say what was happening next.

The sky had grown dim in the intervening time and Stephen wondered if Tony could possibly understand. Tony had never had a sibling. Stephen and Donna had been so entwined, only two years apart and they’d shared almost everything. Stephen had adored Donna until the day she’d died. “You can ask,” Stephen said finally.

Tony didn’t, not immediately. Stephen could sense him considering his words carefully.

“Was it Donna?” Tony asked finally.

Stephen flinched. He had never planned on telling Tony about Donna, not really. He’d never planned on telling anyone.

If he and Tony hadn’t been trapped in a shared nightmare that had lasted over a week, fighting together to escape the worst things that had ever happened to them, twisted painfully, vilely, into something almost unbearable.

They’d only talked about it once, before they’d come to a silent agreement to leave each other’s nightmares to that one, terrible week.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “We… It was her favorite. We made it at least once a week during the summer when mom let her have her way.” Their mom had given in, more often than not. Stephen had always thought that Donna could get away with anything. “She’d take Kool-Aid pie over birthday cake.” Stephen had thought she was ridiculous, especially since their mom made the best chocolate cake, but Donna had been firm. “She liked raspberry Kool-Aid flavoring best. Always tried to add more whipped cream than suggested.”

Tony’s shoulder pressed harder against his for a moment.

“Mom made it once, in the after. It was Donna’s birthday and mom wanted to…” remember her? honor her? grieve her? “I was sixteen, and I screamed at her.” He’d never screamed at his mom before, not like he had then. “I made her cry.” The guilt had been awful, but he hadn’t been able to make himself apologize, because he’d hurt and hadn’t figured out how to move past that pain.

“Grief does strange things to a person,” Tony said, tone compassionate. “Loss has a way of transforming you.”

That was something Stephen knew first hand. It had certainly changed him. “It does,” he agreed quietly.

“You know,” Tony said, voice careful. “You’re not sixteen anymore. You weren’t ready to face the loss of Donna, not then. But Stephen…” Tony paused.

Stephen looked at Tony, tracing his train of thought. “You think I should try.”

Tony’s lips pursed, uncertainty obvious. “I think,” he said slowly. “Love and grief are both meant to be shared.”

It was hypocritical, Stephen thought, coming from Tony, but it wasn’t necessarily wrong. He wasn’t sure what to say, didn’t know what to do and the silence dragged for several long minutes.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Tony said quietly. “When we leave this roof, I’m not going to say anything else about it unless you bring it up first. But… but just think about it.”

Stephen stared out at the skyline again, thinking over the request. Maybe Tony was right, but… but he needed to think about it. “I will. Think about it, that is.”

“Thank you.” He was silent for a second. “Tell me what you need right now, Stephen. Tell me how I can help.”

Sometimes Stephen still felt like there was no way to help, not with the pain buried so deeply, but he could ease it, distract from it.

“Talk to me,” Stephen said. “About anything.”

Tony had always been good at making Stephen’s world just a little more vibrant, a little brighter—Donna had been like that, too, the brightest part of Stephen’s life. Right now, that was something Stephen needed.

“Did I tell you that Ned and Peter introduced DUM-E to spray whipped cream?” Tony shuddered somewhat dramatically. “If I thought the fire extinguisher was bad, it has nothing on DUM-E’s fascination with the whipped cream. The problem is it’s a little small for his claw, and he’s crushed several cans.” He sighed. “But for some reason, Ned and Peter keep bringing him more.”

Stephen laughed despite himself. It sounded disgusting—whipped cream was sticky and got everywhere—but the thought of Tony exasperatedly dealing with the very messy results was an amusing mental image.

“But DUM-E perseveres. DUM-E’s coffee making routine is irretrievably tainted. But he gets all mopey if I take the whipped cream off. I don’t like whipped cream, but his moping is absolutely unbearable.”

“You’re not very good at putting up with your kids moping,” Stephen conceded. “You’re a bit of an easy mark.” From DUM-E and U, to FRIDAY, to Peter, the moment the mope came out, Tony caved. Of course, he didn’t cave gracefully, no, he tended to grouch and grumble and pretend he was entirely hard done by. But cave he did.

Tony was going to hate Kool-Aid pie, Stephen couldn’t help but think. Whipped cream was a rather defining attribute.

The thought stopped him. Not would hate, no, was going to hate. As though Stephen had already made up his mind to… to do something he hadn’t done since the summer when he was twelve years old.

Tony continued complaining about DUM-E and his whipped cream fascination, bemoaning the bad examples that Ned and Peter were and how U and FRIDAY were his favorites right now, because at least they didn’t make messes of his lab.

“You know, someone keeps telling Ned and Peter that DUM-E’s done with a can,” Stephen pointed out. “How else are they replacing them so quickly?”

Tony froze, realization crossing his face. “Are you suggesting that my beloved FRIDAY is a traitor?” He sounded entirely aghast. “Never.”

Stephen shrugged. “I’m just telling you what it looks like,” he said, keeping his voice reasonable.

“Surrounded by traitors on all side,” Tony bemoaned. He narrowed his eyes at Stephen. “You better not be joining that trend.”

Stephen smiled. “We’ll see.”

Tony sighed dramatically. “Traitors on all sides,” he repeated. “Why do I even love you again?”

“I’m pretty sure you said something about no one understanding you the way I did and maybe something about being happier than you’ve been in a long time.”

“Oh, is that what it was?” Tony said. He leaned in, kissing Stephen slow and gentle. “I suppose those are both very good reasons.”

Stephen pulled Tony in for another kiss, smiling a little. “I could probably come up with a couple more.”

“I’m sure you could,” Tony said quietly. “Because sometimes the reasons seem numberless.” He cupped Stephen’s cheek, fingers shifting minutely in a caress. “There is so much to love about you, Stephen,” he whispered. “I hope you know that.”

“You make me believe it,” Stephen said honestly.

He stood, pulling Tony off the bench with him. It’d grown dark, stars shining above them, difficult to see through the light pollution. But there was a comfort in knowing they were there. It had been so much brighter in Nebraska on the farm, so far away from the big cities.

He wondered if Tony had ever seen that, between New York and Malibu with their city lights. He wondered if he was brave enough to take Tony out there, someday.

Maybe. Maybe someday.

“I was hoping you’d stock me up with a few ingredients,” Stephen said, keeping his voice casual. “If we’re going to make Peter’s TikTok video, we’re going to need a few things.”

To Tony’s credit, he didn’t react with any surprise. “I think Peter bought the ingredients already, but I’ll have him bring them by the compound.”

That’s right, Peter had said that. “You know you’re not getting out of this, right?”

Tony considered him. “You sure you want me there?”

“What better way to help Peter go viral then to have the entire gen-z population witness your horrified reaction to Kool-Aid pie.”

“Horrified? How reassuring,” Tony muttered, but he sighed in acceptance. “I’m doing this for you, you know.”

Stephen smiled. “I know.”

Peter, Stephen noted with a mix of amusement and alarm, was literally vibrating with his excitement. They were in the kitchen at the compound, the three of them plus the two bots. U was there with the camera, but DUM-E had moped until Tony had let him come up as well.

“This is going to be awesome,” Peter said. He beamed at Stephen, bright and carefree. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages.”

“It’s been less than a day since you asked,” Stephen pointed out. “That’s hardly ages.”

Peter shook his head. “To do a video with the two of you.” There was a genuineness to the words that made Stephen think that it wasn’t just because it had a good chance of helping Peter go viral. Peter was like that, though. He just genuinely seemed to like spending time with them. And not just them as a unit, but each of them individually.

Peter had ended up in the Sanctum more than once, sometimes dragging Ned with him, sometimes alone, just chatting or wandering or doing his homework at Stephen’s kitchen counter, pestering Stephen with questions—both pertinent and not—the whole time.

And Vishanti knew that Peter adored Tony.

“I want to make it clear that I’m here on protest,” Tony said.

“Sure you are,” Peter said, tone of voice saying he didn’t believe it in the slightest. Peter definitely had Tony’s number. He shoved the ingredients so that they were on the edge of the table and easy to grab. Stephen eyed the graham cracker crust and no, no way were they using a pre-made crust. If they were doing this, they were doing it right. “Ready U?” he asked.

U let out a thrilled beep.

“Oh, she’s been recording this whole time,” Tony told them. “You’re going to have to cut out the first five minutes of this.”

“That’s fine.” Peter grabbed the sweetened condensed milk, popping it open with ease. “Now it’s time to bake!”

The sweetened condensed milk was dumped into the bowl. Peter grabbed the Kool-Aid packet which Stephen was horrified to realize was grape.

He caught Peter’s hand. “Not a chance,” he said. “We are not using grape.” He couldn’t help the disgust in his voice.

“But it’s second to none!” Peter protested. “Everyone agrees.”

“Well, everyone is apparently wrong.” He hadn’t realized that so many people had such bad taste. “We’re not using grape.”

“We have to use grape.”

“We’re not using grape.”

“We have to use grape.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Not a cha—”

There was a pop-shink of a can opening and Stephen and Peter turned to look at Tony who had pulled out a second can of sweetened condensed milk from somewhere. “Good thing I went and had FRIDAY order a second batch,” he said wryly. “Because I’m not going to listen to the two of you arguing.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow. “And did you get the right Kool-Aid mix?” he asked. “Because there’s only one right option.”

“Give me a little credit, Stephen. You’ve got a raspberry addiction.”

Stephen didn’t, not really, but he faintly remembered that he’d told Tony that Donna had loved raspberry. Of course Tony had gotten raspberry.

“Two Kool-Aid pies?” Peter asked, tone delighted. “Yes.”

They dumped the new sweetened condensed milk into a second bowl, before adding the Kool-Aid mixes into their separate bowls.

The lemon rind and lemon juice went in with no arguing, and the small dash of salt.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony said as Peter and Stephen both added full tubs of cool whip to their bowls. “How much whipped cream are we putting into these things?”

“The whole container,” Peter said with obvious relish. "It’s going to be so good.”

Tony stared at it dubiously. “I’m not eating this,” he said. “I love you, Stephen. But I’m not putting this into my mouth.”

“Yes you are,” Stephen said easily.

Tony glared at him, but there was a warmth in his eyes that belied the irritation.

Peter grabbed the graham cracker crust and started to open it. “No,” Stephen said. “We’re making graham cracker crust the right way.”

“But—”

“No,” Stephen repeated.

“Fine,” Peter said, sounding exasperated. “We can make it ‘the right way’.”

Stephen looked at Tony expectantly and Tony obediently brought out the ingredients. It didn’t take long to make and they lined the pie plates with graham cracker crust and then threw the pie fillings in before they stuffed their pies in the refrigerator.

“All right, U,” Tony said. “Let’s pause your recording for now.”

U beeped in agreement and let Tony stop recording.

“Four hours,” Stephen said. “I don’t suppose you had anything you wanted to do, Peter?”

Peter grinned. “The first Lord of the Rings is almost four hours,” he said. “Add some time to make popcorn and get everything set up and that’s pretty much perfect.”

Lord of the Rings was one of Stephen’s favorite movies. The books had been a staple of his childhood and the movies had been the only movies he’d bothered to go see in theaters when he’d been drowning in med school.

“That sounds acceptable,” Stephen said.

Tony sent him a knowing look. “Yes, acceptable,” he agreed.

As Peter had estimated, between making the popcorn and actually making their way to the living room and setting up the movie, it took almost an exact four hours.

They piled back into the kitchen, U taking her place with the camera again to record their reactions.

Tony grimaced as he looked at the slice that Stephen served up for him. One of each grape and raspberry. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.”

Peter had served himself up two large slices and was chowing down. “So good,” he said between bites. “Best thing ever. My new favorite. I’m going to eat this all the time.”

Stephen’s heart ached for a moment.

Donna beamed at him. “This is the best, Stephen! Can we make it again, next week?” Pink pie filling smeared over her upper lip.

Stephen smiled between his own bites of pie. It was pretty good, actually. “If mom lets us.”

Donna wiggled a little in her excitement. “This is going to be the best summer ever.”

“I’m glad you like it, Peter,” Stephen told him, sincere.

Tony took his own bite of Kool-Aid pie, starting with the raspberry. He made a face. “God, how sweet is this thing?”

“Just sweet enough,” Stephen said. He took a deep breath, staring down at his own piece of raspberry Kool-Aid pie. He felt Tony’s eyes on him a moment before a foot pressed against his own beneath the table, a subtle reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Stephen cut himself a small piece and brought it up to his mouth.

His heart pounded in his chest.

It was sweet—Tony might have had a point, now that Stephen no longer had the tastebuds of a child—with the just the slightest tang from the raspberry flavoring. Stephen hadn’t eaten this in decades and…

His heart ached, but it was different. This was not the agonizing pain from before, this was almost healing. Love was meant to be shared, and so was grief. Somewhere in between the two met, but they didn’t rip into each other this time, instead they seemed to gently tangle together.

He took another bite of pie, savoring the taste.

It was perfect.

“Doctor Strange, Mr. Stark!” Peter flung himself into the room. Stephen groaned as he pulled back from where he and Tony had been enjoying their privacy. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed what they’d been doing. “I edited our video and posted it! We went viral! TikTok wants to see us make Mr. Stark try the newest craze! It’s got oreos in it!”

Tony looked horrified. “No chance is that happening. I’m not going to become a TikTok spectacle!”

“But Ned,” Peter protested. “We need to have a video with Ned.”

Tony glared at Peter, then turned his glare on Stephen. “This is your fault, you know. You’re the one who agreed to let him do it the first time.”

As though it hadn’t been Tony’s suggestion.

Stephen shrugged, because he knew Tony didn’t really mind. That even if Tony had, that he’d still think it was worth it. “It was fun,” he teased. “And we can’t let Ned miss out.”

Tony threw his head back in exasperation. “Fine. Fine. But we’re only doing this one more time so that Ned gets to go viral.”

Yeah, Stephen would believe that when he saw that.

The gleam of satisfaction in Peter’s eyes meant that he thought the same.