A hand was pressing against his cheek, waking him up in the gentlest of ways. The warm body cuddling beside him certainly didn't hurt. He opened his eyes and turned his head, knowing that it was Natasha before he even saw her. She smiled.

"Good morning."

He frowned.

"Morning?"

"M-hmmm."

He jerked awake, fear suddenly coursing through him that something had happened while he slept, and tried to sit up, but Natasha held him firm.

"May!"

"Easy, Peter," she said, understanding his concerns immediately and quick to reassure. "She's awake and sitting at the table with Stephen, having breakfast. You both slept all night, and nothing bad happened. Okay?"

He looked toward his door, but it was closed so he couldn't confirm that, but he knew Natasha wouldn't lie to him.

"Okay."

She hugged him tightly for a moment and then let him go and got up. His bed was much too small for any prolonged cuddling.

"Come join us when you're ready."

He was still wearing the clothing that he'd worn the day before, so he was ready, and he followed her out into the kitchen. Sure enough, May was sipping coffee and eating a breakfast of eggs and toast, speaking softly to Dr. Strange, who was just drinking coffee.

Both of them looked up when Natasha and Peter joined them.

"Hi, sleepyhead," May greeted him, kissing his cheek when he leaned down to hug her.

"Morning. How do you feel?"

"A little tired," she admitted. "But I slept well. You?"

"I'm fine."

"Sit down. Have some breakfast."

He and Natasha both sat down, and Strange got up and went to the stove.

"I'm cooking, Peter. Eggs and sausage? Or something else?"

"Anything is fine."

Apparently Strange had already taken Natasha's order, because he set a plate in front of her when she sat down and she thanked him with a smile. Peter felt a bit of a tingle when Strange returned to the stove. He didn't know what the doctor was doing that was magical, but he was obviously augmenting his cooking with a little assistance.

"After you eat Natasha is going to take you out for a while," May told him.

He frowned.

"What? Where?"

"That's up to you – and to her," May said. "I don't want to see you for at least a few hours."

"But-"

"You need to get out for a while," she interrupted, gently. "Even if it's just to go for a drive."

"I want to stay here."

"I know." She gave him a smile. "Please? Just for a while?"

He looked like he was going to argue, but he didn't. And he wouldn't. And, more, she knew it.

"Okay."

"Don't worry, Peter," Strange told him as he brought him a plate that had scrambled eggs, sausages and toast on it. "I'll stay and keep May company for you."

And he would have instant contact with him if something happened.

"Okay."

Peter didn't say much while they ate, but May chatted with Strange and Natasha. She knew them both, of course, and had spent plenty of time with them when she'd been to the compound, but she was sizing Natasha up a little more intently since her nephew had admitted that he just might have a crush on her. Peter caught the looks and couldn't help but roll his eyes and hope she wouldn't say anything, and May smirked, amused at his discomfiture.

"Do we even want to know?" Strange asked, catching the exchange of amused glances between nephew and aunt.

Peter shook his head, hoping neither ever found out, and May was just happy to see him smile for the first time in days.

OOOOOOOO

Natasha's car was sporty. Shiny, black and designed to catch the eye. A few people were checking it out when they came out onto the street after breakfast. When Natasha unlocked it, the people checking out the car were suddenly checking her out, and Peter could understand why, of course. He wondered if any of them would believe just how dangerous she could be.

"What do you want to do?" she asked Peter as he buckled his seatbelt.

He shook his head.

"I want to stay here and keep an eye on her."

She nodded, and put her hand on his leg.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but she wants a shower, and she's not sure that she can handle it by herself. Stephen has already called in the hospice care to assist with that. She didn't want you in the apartment while they're helping her."

"So she's getting worse?"

"Yes." She tightened her touch on his leg. "She's always going to be getting worse, Peter. You know that. But this is just a dignity thing. She doesn't have much choice to ask for help, and sometimes it's not going to be you she's comfortable having help her. Like the time you had to choose between me helping you shower and Tony. My feelings weren't hurt when you chose him, because I understood. You need to, also."

"I should be there."

"She'd rather you weren't. She wants you to get away from the worry for a while, and asked me to make sure you did something more active than sitting around the apartment watching over her. So… bowling or putt putt?"

"Which do you want to do?"

"I know a good putt putt place."

"Okay."

OOOOOOO

The mini golf place was an indoor one, with an arcade and several pool tables as well as the golf course. Natasha and Peter got their balls and putters and went around the course at their own pace, since the place was fairly deserted that time of day.

"How have you been sleeping?" Natasha asked him, as she sized up a windmill, waiting for it to close and then open.

"All right."

"Any dreams?"

He shook his head and tried to shoot his ball through the windmill but didn't make it. Apparently spider senses and amazing coordination do not make windmills on mini golf courses any easier to navigate.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure."

"You look tired."

"I feel tired," he admitted. "But I don't think it's lack of sleep."

"You tried sleepwalking this morning," she told him, making it a casual statement as she sunk a four inch putt. "I doubt you're sleeping as much as you think you are."

He looked over at her.

"I did?"

"Yeah. Nothing serious, though. I was in the kitchen and you headed for the window. I don't know if you were going to go anywhere, or if you just wanted to look out it."

"What happened?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing. I walked you back to your room and put you back to bed, no problem."

Peter shook his head.

"I don't remember any of that..."

"I know. You don't usually, though, right? I know you've woken up in my bed before without realizing that's where you were until you've had a chance to look around."

"Yeah."

She gave him a reassuring hug, smiling an apology when she almost brained him with the putter she was holding.

"Don't worry about it, okay? We'll get through it. We have before."

He just nodded.

OOOOOOOOO

It was almost exactly three hours later when Peter and Natasha returned to the apartment. Strange was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room reading a book and looked up when they arrived, but May wasn't anywhere in sight. He saw Peter automatically look around and closed the book.

"She's in her bed, taking a nap and has already had lunch. Go check on her for me, though, will you?"

It was obvious that he wanted to, anyway, so that just told him that it was okay to do so.

"Thanks."

Peter vanished into May's room and Natasha walked over to the other chair and sat down. The book disappeared.

"How is she?" Natasha asked, quietly.

Strange shook his head.

"It's progressing more rapidly than I anticipated," he told her, soberly.

"Does she know?"

"She told me she can feel it."

"Do we tell Peter?"

"Do you think we should?"

She knew the boy better than any of them, he was certain. Probably better than Tony, even. At least, she seemed to understand him on a different level than he and Stark did. Maybe because she was a woman, but probably because she had been trained from so very young to be able to read people. Peter was important to her, so that ability took on a whole new meaning when it was directed at him.

"I don't think we'll need to," she admitted. "He's sensitive enough that he's probably going to know. Or suspect, anyway. He knows she's getting worse – just not sooner than expected. If he asks, though, we should tell him. Otherwise… he's already dealing with so much, I don't want to put any more on him."

"Neither do I."

They didn't have a chance to say anything else. May's bedroom door opened and Peter came out, going into the living room and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked troubled, but no more than he had been, lately.

"Where did you guys go?" Strange asked.

"Putt putt," Natasha answered.

"Who won?"

"She did."

"Did you let her?" he asked, pointedly.

The boy shook his head.

"I know better."

Natasha stood up.

"I need to get back to the compound. Are you guys okay here?" They both nodded, and she walked over to the edge of the bed and cupped his cheek in her hand, brushing a kiss against his temple. "If you need me, I expect you to call."

"I will. Thanks."

She left and Strange turned to Peter.

"Did you have lunch?"

"I had a pretzel at the golf place."

"That doesn't count."

"It had cheese."

Strange shook his head, and a tray appeared on the bed beside the boy. On it was a burger and fries, just the way Peter liked them.

"Eat something, okay?"

"Okay, thanks."