Natasha didn't join the men under the shelter until breakfast was ready. She'd enjoyed hanging out by the fire the night before, sleeping in a tent out of the rain and most especially the chance to spend time with her guys. Peter had kept her awake a while during the night with some dreams of some kind – tossing and turning and mumbling – and she'd been about ready to bring him up against her side to hold him when Tony had beaten her to it and the boy had settled against Stark instead.

Able to relax knowing that he was in the best of hands (well, she considered her hands the best of hands for Peter, but Stark was a close second) Romanoff had been able to drift off, the warmth of the bodies she was sandwiched between and the sound of the rain and the storm lulling her to sleep as deeply as if she were in her own bed.

She'd woken when Peter had gotten up, but it was daylight outside the tent and she didn't worry that anything was wrong and needed her attention, so she'd gone back to sleep, feeling the extra weight when the cloak had decided to spread itself over her more thoroughly now that it wasn't covering Peter as well. The comforting warmth kept her from getting up when Stark did, as well, assuming correctly that if anything was needed, Tony could and would take care of it.

Only when Stephen had stirred next to her did she allow herself to really wake up, and even then she decided she didn't want to get up just yet. Lounging in bed – or in this case, on the ground in a pile of discarded sleeping bags – was comfortable and relaxing, and that was the whole point of camping, after all. Strange had murmured that he was going to go find some coffee and she didn't need to get up until she was ready. Then he'd kissed her and left her and the cloak cuddling together with the sound of the continuing rain a relaxing backdrop.

Now she was ready to face her day, though, and she'd gotten up, running her fingers through her hair and debating changing out of the jeans she'd slept in into clean clothes. She decided not to bother, and had simply thrown on a sweatshirt with a hood and looked over at the cloak, which was now draped over the area she'd slept in.

"Are you coming with me?" she asked it, well beyond the stage where she'd have felt foolish talking to the relic. "I'm going to go find Peter."

It had simply raised a corner of fabric and made a shooing motion toward her, clearing having no desire to leave the tent. The motion amused her every time she saw it – it was so incredibly human – and she'd left the tent, zipping the door behind her and headed for the shelter that was now standing near the fire pit.

A shelter that she knew hadn't been in the inventory of the initial trip out, and certainly hadn't been brought when she'd joined the group. Obviously Tony was willing to allow a little magic to their camping trip to avoid being uncomfortable. And she agreed wholeheartedly. Especially since it was raining hard enough that her sweatshirt was damp by the time she had crossed the relatively short distance to the shelter from the tent. Which was nothing when compared to how soaked Peter looked when she noticed the boy standing on the edge of the water with a fishing pole in his hands, staring out over the lake.

"Good morning," Stark said, getting out of his chair to pour her a cup of much appreciated coffee. "How'd you sleep?"

She took it with a smile of thanks, and Tony returned to his chair and Natasha sat in one beside him. The table they had in the shelter was also new, and it was set with plates and cutlery for four. The camping skillet on the grate near the fire had scrambled eggs and bacon in it with a clear glass covering on it, keeping the food warm, and the rain out.

"Once I got to sleep, it was great."

"Did the rain keep you up?" Strange asked, curiously.

"No. Peter did."

"He was having some dreams," Tony explained. "Not Mind stone ones – at least that's what he told me this morning – just dreams about the bear attack."

"Nightmares wouldn't be surprising," Stephen pointed out.

"Not even nightmares," Stark said. "He said he hadn't even had time to be afraid, so it wasn't scary – just a lot of teeth coming at him."

"Aren't you worried that he's going to catch a cold out there?" Natasha asked, watching the boy cast his line again.

"As Stephen told me once, cold and rain won't make you sick – it only increase the likelihood if you're already coming down with something. He's fine. When we're done eating we'll have him dry off and stay where it's warm for a while."

"I'll want to check my handiwork anyway," Strange added.

"How long on breakfast?" she asked, looking at the skillet.

"It's ready. We were just waiting for you, really."

"Then you guys serve it up, and I'll go get him."

"I can do it," Stark offered.

"I'm already wet," she pointed out, setting her coffee down and picking up one of the umbrellas that were leaning against the clear walls of the shelter. "Be right back."

She walked over to Peter, who smiled a good morning to her when he noticed her, and was clearly enjoying himself even though he was as soaked as if he'd taken a swim in the lake fully dressed. His hair was plastered to his head, and his sweatshirt – which was normally a light gray – was so wet it looked black, and his jeans were so wet that he had to hitch them up every now and then. She position the umbrella over him, standing close enough that it covered them both, but not so close that she was touching him.

"Any luck?"

"I've caught seven and a half fish," he told her with a grin.

She saw that the bruise on the side of his face was still vivid, but it didn't seem to be bothering him.

"How do you catch half a fish?" she asked, looking for the fish that he'd caught.

"It got away," he told her. "But it was close enough before my line broke that I could see it – so I count it as a win, even though it wasn't actually in my hands."

"Where are the rest of them?"

"I let them go."

Romanoff smiled.

"So the one that got away would have gotten away anyway. It just didn't know it?"

"Yeah. The fun is in the catching."

"Makes sense." She did touch him, then. Enough to brush a kiss against his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold and she decided that even if breakfast hadn't been ready, she would have insisted that he get out of the rain and warm up for a while. "Breakfast is ready. Let's go eat, okay?"

"Okay."

He reeled in his line and hooked the hook to the reel so it wouldn't swing loose and possibly stab him – or worse, her – and they headed for the shelter and the fire.

OOOOOOOO

Tony didn't let Peter eat while he was so wet.

"Go change into something dry," he told the boy when he and Natasha had joined them in the shelter. "We'll keep breakfast warm for you."

"I'll go with you," Strange said, standing up. "I want to check your stitches."

Stark hesitated, because he was tempted to go, too. He wanted to see how Peter was doing as well. He nodded, though, knowing if there were anything wrong Strange would let him know.

Now it was the doctor who picked up the umbrella and walked with Peter back to the tent.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as Peter unzipped the entrance and they went in out of the rain.

The cloak drifted over, crooning cheerfully at seeing Peter, but opting to suspend itself from Strange's shoulder instead of the boy's, since he was much too wet for the relic's tastes.

"Good. Just a bit wet, right now."

Stephen watched as Peter stripped off his soaked clothing and then the doctor carefully pulled the bandages from the boy's side, revealing a bloody mess that surprised Peter, but not Strange.

"You've managed to tear a couple of stitches," he said, a warm, wet towel appearing in his hand so he could wipe the blood clear and get a better look. "It's expected, and nothing serious."

"It barely hurts," Peter told him, honestly.

"It'd hurt a lot more if you didn't heal so quickly," Strange assured him.

He put a fresh dressing on the boy's side and taped it down thoroughly. Then he checked the gashes on Peter's leg and repeated the process, although there weren't any torn stitches there and it didn't take long to redress the wounds.

"I don't want you out in the rain again for a while, all right? Give yourself a chance to stay dry and warm up."

"Okay."

Peter put on clean – and more importantly, dry – clothes, another sweatshirt with a hood and was grateful when Strange produced a dry pair of shoes for him to put on. Then the two of them went to join Stark and Natasha for breakfast.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked when they came into the shelter.

"He's fine," Strange told him – and Natasha. "More than healthy enough to do the breakfast dishes."

Peter frowned, which made the other two smile.

"Good."

Tony didn't want to do them, anyway.