Archive of Our Own ^beta

“FRIDAY? Where’s Tony?” Stephen asked, looking around the workshop with wary exhaustion. Tony wasn’t always in the workshop, but he was often enough that it was weird for Stephen to step through a portal and into the workshop without Tony throwing one of his standard greetings at him.

Stephen hated to admit that he reacted to ‘Merlin’ and ‘Gandalf’ just as readily as he reacted to his actual name these days. 

“Boss is at Stark Tower.”

Stephen frowned, that didn’t sound right. “Didn’t he sell Stark Tower?”

“He put provisions in the contract for his personal use. He is using the bottom three floors for the day,” FRIDAY explained. “It is a better location for today’s festivities than the compound is.”

“Today’s festivities?” Stephen asked. He racked his brain, trying to remember what the hell today was supposed to be. It was March, he knew that much. Or at least was pretty sure of that much. But honestly, he’d spent most of the past month in other dimensions hashing out treaties with various of the friendlier dimensional entities. Keeping track of the date was really just too much to ask.

“It is March 14th,” FRIDAY told him, with the tone of voice that said she rather thought he should know exactly what that meant. Stephen did not, in fact, know what that meant. Not St. Patricks Day. Not the Ides of March. What the hell was March 14th? Tony’s birthday was in May. Peter’s in August. Seriously, what the hell was March 14th? And why did it need celebrating?

“That doesn’t mean anything to me, FRI.” Tony’s nickname slipped easily from his mouth, not that FRIDAY seemed to mind. “What’s Tony celebrating?”

“Pie.”

“Pie?” Stephen asked, completely thrown off. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that most definitely wasn’t it. “Why is he celebrating pie?”

“Not pie. Pie.” The emphasis didn’t help in the slightest.

Stephen just stared up at the ceiling, completely uncomprehending. Would this make more sense if he’d slept some time in the past three days? He should probably be sleeping now, but he’d missed Tony after almost a month of not seeing him. And sometimes Stephen made decisions he shouldn’t when it came to Tony. Like forego sleep when he desperately needed it in hopes of stealing a little bit of Tony’s time. If he was lucky, he’d be able to convince Tony to come to bed with him. Half the time Tony needed as much sleep as Stephen did and it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. “An actual explanation, please?”

“March 14th. Three point one four. The first three digits of pie.” Stephen blinked at the words. Not pie, he realized. Pi. “Today is pi day,” FRIDAY said, her tone once again making it clear that she thought he was being a little dim.

“Oh. I see.” He didn’t, not really. Why would people celebrate pi? Actually, now that he thought about it, that was exactly the sort of thing that Tony would celebrate.

“How do you celebrate pi day?” It was a mathematical constant, which was not particularly exciting for anyone beyond mathematicians. 

“With pi,” FRIDAY responded, still using that tone of voice. Stephen was really starting to dislike that. He was quite intelligent, thank you. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard of pi day. Or that he was exhausted.

“You celebrate pi with pi?” He supposed that made sense, but at the same time… it made no sense. “How do you celebrate with pi? It’s a mathematical constant.”

“No, not the mathematical constant, Doctor Strange. Pie, as in the pastry dish.”

Stephen closed his eyes, brain slowly ticking through her explanation. Vishanti, he was so tired. “Let me see if I’ve got this clear. It’s pi day. As in the mathematical constant. And you celebrate it with pie. The pastry.”

“You are correct, Doctor Strange.”

Right. Stephen really should have put that together faster, but he really was quite tired. He should go to bed.

“Where’s Tony again?”

“At Stark Tower. Would you like me to provide you with an image so that you may join him?”

Stephen hesitated. He really needed sleep. The fact that it had taken him as long as it had to figure out what pi day was… “Yes, I’d like that.” He’d already gone this long without, he could manage a little longer.

In front of him a holographic image burst to life of a small office, Tony leaning against the wall, sending the camera a bemused look. FRIDAY must have told him that he was talking to her and Tony had found somewhere quiet and out of the way for Stephen to join him.

Stephen opened the portal and there Tony was. 

“Hey Merlin.” Tony gave him a quick once over that wasn’t at all seductive, just concerned. “You look exhausted. Should you be up?”

Stephen wasn’t even going to deign to respond to that. It would just give Tony an opportunity to be a hypocrite and Stephen wasn’t interested in hearing that.

“FRIDAY says you’re dedicating the day to a mathematical constant?”

Tony laughed. “I’m not. March 14th was dedicated to pi long before now. Surprised you don’t know this, actually. You’re normally my trivia genius.” He said the words with that faint smile that always appeared when Stephen pulled out a random fact.

“Even I don’t know everything.” Unfortunately.

Tony laughed. “Math really isn’t your thing, so I’ll forgive you this oversight. But 1988, an excellent physicist by the name of Larry Shaw selected the date because it’s the first three digits of pi. As a bonus it also happens to be Albert Einstein’s—“

“—birthday,” Stephen finished. Because he had known that and he needed to reassert his knowledge somehow.

Tony’s lip quirked up in a grin as though he knew exactly what Stephen was doing. “Exactly.” 

“That’s ridiculous, you know. The US is the only country that insists on using the month, then day, then year format. Everywhere else is far more sensible with their dating formats.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Stephen, don’t think too hard about it. We’re in America. And it’s pi day.” Tony stepped closer and Stephen happily accepted the kiss that Tony gave him. “Now, you should go to bed, because I can feel the exhaustion radiating off of you. It’s enough to make me tired.”

“You should come with me,” Stephen suggested, because a tired Tony in bed with him sounded good to him. A tired Tony was a cuddly Tony. “It’s been almost a month and I miss you.”

Tony looked amused rather than tempted. Okay, maybe a little tempted? “Stephen—“ Tony wasn’t going to be coming with him, was he?

“Fine, I’m coming with you, then. Apparently it’s pi day,” he made sure to load his voice with as much contemptuous sarcasm as possible. “I can’t possibly miss that.”

”Stephen—“

“I’m coming.” He waved his hands, changing into his ‘casual’ clothes. The cloak obediently turned itself into a scarf around his neck. “I want to see how you celebrate this ridiculous day.”

“If you fall asleep on me, I’ll never let you live it down,” Tony said.

Stephen scoffed. He might be tired, but he wasn’t that tired. “Just show me your pi day celebration and why you need three floors of Stark Towers to celebrate it.” If he remembered right, the bottom three floors had always been meant for public use—there had been an art gallery on one of the floors at one point, he was pretty sure—which meant that there were no offices. It also meant that when it came to the celebrations anything was possible, which was potentially a very bad thing.

Tony just looked at him, still clearly amused, before he nodded. “Come on, then.”

Stephen followed Tony out of the room and toward the stairs. “We’ve got everything you can think of. Pie eating contests, some pie throwing, pie decorating, a pi recall contest, an Einstein look-alike contest, a Best Pie of New York tasting, just regular pie—“

“Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice echoed down the hallway and Stephen looked up to see Peter racing down the hallway, waving a t-shirt behind him. Peter stopped at the sight of him. “Mr. Stark, you didn’t say that Doctor Wizard was going to be here! I’d have made him a shirt!”

Stephen glanced at the shirt that Peter was wearing. It was hand drawn, with an ‘i’ in hot rod red with a speech bubble rising from it to say ‘be rational’ directed toward the pi symbol in dark navy blue which was responding with a ‘get real.’ It took Stephen a second to get it—his math really was rusty; which was perhaps embarrassing given who he was dating and the fact that Tony had pseudo-adopted another math genius—and then he snorted. 

Of course it was a math pun.

Peter held out the shirt in his hand to Tony who held it up to read it. It was also hand written with a large pi symbol in the middle, this one in glittering gold. Around the symbol were the words in hot rod red, ‘They call me pi because I’m irrational and don’t know when to stop!’

Stephen let out an actual laugh at that. “Well, it suits you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Though I didn’t realize people were calling you pi. Should that be my new nickname for you?”

Tony just rolled his eyes at him. 

“I can make you one too,” Peter offered. “It’ll be as easy as pi! We’ve got a t-shirt contest going on to see who can come up with the coolest looking shirt with the best pi pun.”

Stephen looked between the two shirts. “That’s alright, I don’t—“

Peter didn’t wait for him to finish, already rushing off. “I’m on it! Don’t worry!”

Tony laughed, pulling the t-shirt on over the shirt he was already wearing. “You’re going to have to wear it, you know.”

Stephen sighed, because Tony was right. There was no way Stephen was going to be able to resist Peter’s puppy dog eyes if Stephen tried to get out of it. And Peter would bring out the puppy dog eyes. Tony said that Peter didn’t know he was doing it. Stephen didn’t believe it for a second. Peter was capable and calculating and knew exactly how to get what he wanted.

And if, by some chance, Stephen managed to resist Peter’s puppy dog eyes, he’d have to face Tony’s. And that was a lost cause.

“Hopefully he won’t be able to come up with a pi joke,” Stephen said, even if he didn’t believe it for a second.

“Please, there’s always more jokes to be made.”

Stephen followed Tony down the stairs to the third floor where apparently the t-shirt contest—Peter waved at them, waving the Stephen’s future shirt at them, with the beginning of the pi symbol colored in with dark red—and the spelling bee-esque pi recall contest was going on. There was a kid that couldn’t be older than six carefully reciting the numbers in a sing song tone that he’d apparently used as a mnemonic device.

“I was banned from participating,” Tony said, sounding amused. “Apparently they thought it’d be unfair.”

“Probably for the best,” Stephen said. “I don’t want to know how far you could go. The last thing we need is to challenge you to go as far as possible.”

“They wouldn’t let me join the math quiz session either. Though, I am signed up as one of the pie throwing victims though,” Tony made a long-suffering sound. “Apparently while I can’t sit around and recite numbers with people, or try to win a math contest, I can sign up to let people shove pie in my face. Just goes to show that life isn’t fair.”

“Something tells me no one made you sign up to be a victim.”

Tony shrugged, but didn’t disagree. “It’s for charity. Everyone who throws a pie pays a dollar, and there’s an additional drawing, tickets are five dollars. The lucky winner gets a ‘guaranteed’ hit to my face. In fact, while most of today’s celebrations are completely free, the proceeds from the pie eating contest and the pie throwing contest are both being donated to charity.”

They took the stairs down to the next floor where the far side had people lining up at tables, a pie in front of each of them for the pie eating contest. On the other side tarp was spread over the ground and several people were sitting on chairs while others lined up to throw pie at them. “I’m up in about thirty minutes,” Tony told him cheerfully. “Are you going to pay to throw pie at me? And by pie I mean a pie tin full of whipped cream.”

“No,” Stephen said. “For some strange reason, I have no desire to throw pie in your face.”

Tony reached out and tangled their fingers together, gentle enough that it didn’t bother Stephen’s hands. “You’re missing out. If our places were reversed I would absolutely shove a pie in your face,” he told Stephen honestly, grin impish.

Why did that not surprise Stephen in the slightest? Of course Tony would. “That’s because of the two of us, one of us actually maintains a degree of maturity. The other of us… Not so much.”

Tony fluttered his lashes at Stephen. “Why Stephen, how kind of you to say. I knew eventually you’d recognize the lengths and depths of my maturity. And I’m proud of you. It takes bravery to acknowledge that—”

“Don’t even,” Stephen warned him.

Tony just smiled at him.

Tony led him down to the bottom floor where tables lined the walls all full of pies that were being cheerfully served up to anyone who walked in off the streets. Signs were hung up on the walls with the rest of the activities and their locations printed out.

“How much did you end up spending on this?” Stephen asked, trying to mentally add up the costs of all those pies and then deciding he’d rather not. 

“You don’t want to know,” Tony admitted. “But also, pi day. Everyone deserves the chance to eat pie on pi day.” It was such a Tony thing to say and do. “Which includes you,” Tony pointed out. He tugged Stephen gently towards one of the tables. “Now what kind of pie person are you? Fruit? Cream? Custard? Ice Cream? Meringue?” Tony waved at the tables. “How long have we been dating? Is this something I should already know about you?” He shrugged and moved on before Stephen could answer. “We’ve got pretty much every flavor of dessert pie there is.” He pointed to a sectioned off group of tables. “Plus a section for those with allergies. Or at least as many as we could accommodate, which was a surprising challenge, actually. But I think we did pretty solidly.”

“Every flavor?” Stephen challenged.

Tony sighed, reading the challenge in his voice. “Every popular flavor.”

“Strawberry Rhubarb?”

Tony pointed at a table across the room.

“Chocolate cream?” 

Tony pointed to the table behind them.

“Pecan?”

Tony pointed to the table right beside them.

“Coconut—“

“Stephen, just choose a pie,” Tony sounded fondly exasperated. “You can just choose something you like. It doesn’t have to be a challenge to find something I don’t have.”

Stephen sighed. “Fine. Do you have any fun crusts?”

“Pretzel crust. Oreo crust. Graham cracker crust. Normal crust.”

“Whatever the one with pretzel crust is,” Stephen decided. “That sounds tolerable enough.”

Tony scoffed. “Tolerable enough, he says. Such high praise, Stephen. It’s chocolate peanut butter with pretzel crust by the way. And it’s probably delicious.”

Stephen sniffed, imperiously, forcing himself to fight off the yawn that tried to escape instead. “I’m more of a cake person,” he said, putting every ounce of snooty disregard that he could into the words. He was not, in fact, a cake person. What he was was a contrarian.

Tony put a hand to his chest, letting out a fake gasp. “You would say such a thing, today of all days. How could you, Stephen? You’re going to break my heart.”

Stephen paused, moving closer. “Your poor heart. I could fix that,” he suggested, feeling a little hopeful. “In fact, I can do that right now if you let me take you to bed.” Not that he had enough energy for sex. But cuddles worked just as well.

Tony snorted. “Still tired, sweetie-pie? Because—“

“Don’t even.” Stephen shuddered. “I refuse.” He could handle Merlin. He could handle Gandalf. He could handle sweetheart—though admittedly, Stephen thought he might use sweetheart more than Tony did; Tony melted when Stephen did and it was great for getting out of trouble—he could even handle honey. But he refused to handle sweetie-pie. He’d have to break up with Tony for that, and he really didn’t want to break up with Tony.

“You ruin all my fun, Merlin. It’s pi day, you deserve a pie nickname.”

“No. Not happening. I refuse.” Some things were simply not to be borne.

Tony sighed, all long-suffering. “You know, you can go to bed. I’ll join you in an hour or so after I’ve had pie smashed in my face.”

An hour? Stephen could handle another hour. And he had to admit, he was vaguely interested at the idea of seeing Tony get pie thrown at him. Stephen would never understand people; sometimes they did the weirdest things. Tony more than most, but since this was apparently a thing that people did, Stephen couldn’t blame it on Tony’s particular eccentricities.

“No. I’m staying. And you promised me pie, anyways. Chocolate peanut butter with pretzel crust.” 

Tony snorted, clearly judging Stephen for his life choices, but Stephen rather stalwartly ignored him. They found Stephen his pie, Tony carrying it for him as they made their way up to the floor with the pie throwing contest.

“Mr. Stark! Doctor Wizard!” 

Stephen turned around to find that Peter was maneuvering through the crowds to get to them, a t-shirt once again in hands. Stephen eyed it warily. “Peter,” he greeted. Peter stopped in front of them, thrusting the t-shirt in Stephen’s face.

“Here you go,” Peter said cheerfully. Stephen held it up to read it. There was a large pi symbol, below it were the words ‘IRRATIONAL but well-rounded.’

Tony laughed. “It suits you about as well as mine suits me,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Stephen as though challenging him to say that it didn’t fit Stephen at all—and thus Tony’s didn’t suit him—or to acknowledge that it, just perhaps, suited Stephen too well.

Stephen just sighed and shrugged the shirt on over what he was wearing. “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter beamed at him. “Now you fit in with Mr. Stark and me!”

An actual smile tugged at Stephen’s lips, because he supposed that was as good a reason as any to suffer the indignity of his current outfit. Just as long as Wong didn’t see it, because Stephen would never live that down. 

“Peter, you going to join the pie throwing contest?” Tony asked.

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I’m going in the kiddie line as a victim.” Despite the words there was a gleam of good humor in his eyes.

Tony winced, turning to Stephen. “The kiddie line is for four and under, it’s a ‘guaranteed’ line. So Peter’s going to get a pie to the face every time.”

Stephen grimaced. “Very brave of you, Peter.” He raised an eyebrow at Tony. “I see you’re not brave enough to do the same.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “I’ll have you know I volunteered, but the people I have running this event insisted I go in the normal line, since I’m a big ticket option for the guaranteed-drawing portion of the event.”

Peter nodded. “Half of my friends joined the drawing to get a guaranteed pie to the face for you. MJ actually joined three times. I think she really wants to smash a pie tin in your face.”

“Should you be offended by how many people want to shove a pie in your face?” Stephen asked, genuinely curious.

“Nope,” Peter said, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s just fun.”

Tony scoffed at the implication that people didn’t like him. “There’s just something inherently entertaining about throwing pie at important people. Especially well-liked important people. Natasha’s actually showing up later today to take some pie to the face like the good sport she is. She’s probably going to be dragging Steve with her.”

A gleaming look entered Peter’s face and Stephen was fairly certain that Peter would be lining up to throw pies at the two of them. Peter would probably be doing the same to Tony if he weren’t playing a victim himself.

“Oh, important,” Stephen repeated, as sarcastically as he could manage. “Everything makes perfect sense now. Except for why people would pay extra to throw pie in your face if it’s for important people.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, and held Stephen’s pie away from him. “I really shouldn’t let you have this pie, you know.”

Stephen just held out his hands for the plate. “But it’s pi day, everyone deserves pie on pi day.”

Tony sighed, but pointed Stephen towards the seats pressed against the wall. “Go sit down and I’ll give you your pie.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to be going to get prepared for people to throw pie at me.”

“Make sure I have a good seat for that. I need the entertainment.”

“Don’t see the point of that. You’re definitely going to fall asleep the moment you finish your pie. You won’t be awake to see it.”

Stephen scoffed. “Oh, I’ll stay awake purely for the entertainment factor.”

Tony looked doubtful, but led Stephen to some chairs near the pie throwing section of the room, handing him his pie once Stephen was sitting down and in less danger of dropping the plate with his shaky hands. “Enjoy the show,” Tony told him. He gave the scarf-cloak a pat. “And take care of him when he inevitably falls asleep, won’t you?”

“I will not fall asleep,” Stephen protested. The cloak waved an edge at Tony in what was clearly agreement—though Stephen suspected the cloak was agreeing with Tony and not with Stephen; how rude. “I won’t,” Stephen muttered under his breath. “I’ll stay awake, easy as pie.” 

Tony just gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Of course you won’t, Stephen. Of course you won’t. Now eat your pie and enjoy watching people throw pie tins full of whipped cream at me.”

“I will.”

Tony left him there and a few minutes later Stephen watched as he took one of the chairs for the victims, a line quickly forming in front of him. Tony was wearing a plastic bag over his clothes, clearly meant to protect him from the projectiles that would inevitably miss his face and land elsewhere on his person.

He ate his pie—and it was good, rich chocolate and smooth peanut butter filling, mixed with the salty-crunch of the pretzel crust—and watched as people started chucking pie tins at Tony.

The majority missed much to their thrower’s disappointment, smashing into the wall or falling on the ground—both of which were covered in plastic—but a few landed on Tony. His chest was smeared with whipped cream, and someone had managed to get a pie tin to land in Tony’s hair which was now a sticky mess.

Stephen winced a little as a tall, willowy girl managed to get Tony right in the face. Tony, however, just laughed, congratulating the girl and wiping at his face cheerfully. 

It was a ridiculous sight, but Stephen couldn’t help but find it a little adorable as Tony let a younger kid step past the throwing line for a better shot.

He got a tin to the face for his efforts, but Tony just laughed again.

It seemed to last forever, the line stretching out long in front of Tony and Stephen found himself starting to drift. It was entertaining, yes, but at some point one pie tin to the face was as exciting as the other. Once Stephen had seen it a few times… well, Stephen was tired.

Except he refused to fall asleep, not when Tony had been so sure that he would. Stephen might be tired, but no way was he going to let Tony win. The cloak shifted so that it was between Stephen’s head and the wall, forming  a comfortable pillow.

It was nice, but Stephen still wasn’t going to fall asleep. He wasn’t that tired.

He woke up to Tony crouching in front of him, a warm, cheeky grin on his face as he gently nudged Stephen awake. “Hey sleepyhead.”

“Don’t call me that,” Stephen muttered, shaking himself awake. He blinked around the room. There was a new batch of victims in the chairs and a group of people had gathered a circle of chairs on the other side of the room and were having a heated argument about pie. Or maybe pi. Stephen wasn’t quite sure.

“It’s true though,” Tony pointed out. “I’m never letting you live this down, you know.” Stephen glanced back at Tony, taking him in. He looked vaguely… sticky. With spots of whipped cream still in his hair, making it stick up in entertaining ways. “I told you you should just go to bed.”

“And miss watching a six year old nail you in the face with a pie tin?” He shook his head. “I really couldn’t miss something like that.”

Tony’s grin widened. “Kid had good aim. But you missed the ninety-year old lady with her walker who won the drawing. The lady looked like she was having the time of her life when she smashed that pie in my face. Told me that her grandchildren were going to think she was the coolest.”

Stephen wished he’d been awake to see it.

Tony stood, gently taking Stephen’s wrists and pulling him to his feet. Stephen swayed on his feet, nearly falling into Tony who smelled overly-sweet with the scent of whipped cream still clinging to him. “Come on, I’m done with my responsibilities for the day. Let’s get you to bed.”

“You’re taking a shower before you get into my bed,” Stephen warned. And Tony was coming to bed with him. Stephen would pull out his sweetheart card if he had to if it got him what he wanted.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’ll take a shower.” He waved at Peter who was in a corner with two other teens with a plate full of at least three different pies in his hand. Peter’s hair was as messy as Tony’s was, with whipped cream acting as a sort of gel. Peter waved back energetically, accidentally flinging pie on the girl next to him.

Tony huffed a laugh as Peter turned to frantically apologize.

They made it back upstairs to where Stephen could open a portal without drawing attention.

It was a relief to finally make it into the sanctum.

“Nice shirt.”

It was suddenly much less of a relief to be inside the sanctum. Wong was standing in the doorway, clearly having heard them arrive, an amused look on his face as he took in the sight of Stephen and Tony. His gaze lingered on Tony’s hair, clearly a mix of baffled and entertained by the sticky mess it had turned into.

It was very different from Tony’s normal put-together appearance—but then Wong rarely saw Tony after a workshop binge when his hair had grease in it from Tony running his hands through it too often, maybe then he’d be less baffled by Tony’s appearance now.

“You can get a shirt too,” Tony offered. “I’m sure Peter would make you one if you went to Stark Tower. He’s quite enthusiastic. I’m sure he’d love to come up with another pi joke.”

Wong raised an expressive eyebrow. “I will pass.”

“There’s also pie,” Tony added. “For free. Though you missed your chance to throw pie at my face. I know that must be heart breaking for you.”

Actual interest crossed Wong’s face at the mention of free food. Stephen didn’t blame him in the slightest. Free food was a great incentive. “Well, if there’s pie…”

Stephen sighed and opened the portal back up to the tower. Wong changed his clothes with a wave of his hand before he stepped through the portal. “I’m not wearing one of those shirts though,” Wong called just as the portal shut.

“Told you,” Tony said cheerfully. “It’s pi day, everyone deserves pie. Even grumpy librarians. I can’t wait to see what sort of shirt Peter makes him.”

Wong was maybe one of the only people completely invulnerable to Peter’s puppy dog eyes, so Stephen highly doubted that Wong would end up in a shirt, but he supposed miracles could happen.

Stephen pulled Tony with him up to his bedroom. “Go. Shower. I’m going to be sleeping.”

Tony laughed, but obediently let himself be pushed toward the bathroom.

The cloak unfurled from their scarf shape back into a cloak, pushing Stephen towards the bed.

Stephen fell into the bed gratefully, not even bothering to take off his pi shirt.

By the time Tony made it to bed, dressed in some of Stephen’s clothes, Stephen was half-asleep again. Tony immediately curled into Stephen’s side and Stephen buried his face in Tony’s neck. He smelled of Stephen’s shower products, which was far better than the whipped cream smell from earlier.

“I didn’t see you eat any pie,” Stephen noted, half asleep.

Tony laughed. “I actually really don’t like pie all that much.” Tony curled an arm around Stephen.

Stephen furrowed his brow. “Then why pi day?” Stephen asked.

“For everyone else, of course,” Tony said.

Stephen thought back to the controlled chaos of the tower, the grins on people’s faces, the laughter, the people gratefully taking plates full of pie, Peter’s excitement.

“It was a good idea,” Stephen decided. “Even if I still think it’s weird.”

“Stephen. Go to sleep.”

That seemed like a good idea, too, Stephen decided. Tony was just full of them today.

“Love you,” Stephen muttered.

“Love you too, you ridiculous man.”

Stephen really should have a good retort for that. But he was warm and comfortable and tired and it was as easy as pie to let himself fall asleep instead.