She was smiling at him.

The smile he remembered so well. Full of love, and an incredible amount of patience for all of the crazy, ridiculously dumb things he'd ever done – and there had been a few.

"I'm proud of you."

"Then don't leave me."

"That isn't how it works."

"It's not fair."

"I know. I love you."

"Then don't leave me."

"Peter…"

"It isn't fair."

"I know."

"I'll miss you."

"You'll be in good hands."

"I already was in good hands."

"They love you."

"I know. I love them."

"They will take care of you."

"Until they leave me, too."

"They won't."

"You told me you wouldn't – and you did. Dad said it, too. I remember. 'I'll be back before you know it.' And he wasn't. Everyone leaves me."

"Everyone isn't Ironman."

"No."

"Or Captain America."

"I know."

"Or a bad-ass super spy."

"I know."

"Or a magician with a cloak that can save you from a bear."

He turned away from her. She didn't know all of that.

"I hate bad news…"

Every time someone had bad news for him, someone he loved leaves.

"I know. It's part of life, though."

"I don't care."

If they can't find you, they can't give you the bad news.

I don't want bad news.

Then hide from them.

I need them.

Just hide from the bad news.

Yeah. I could do that.

He could hide. If the bad news doesn't find him, then things won't go bad again.

That makes sense.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was getting late. All their purchases had been toted to their rooms, thanks to some help from Stephen and Clint – who had been unfortunate enough to happen by at just the time a package toter was needed. He'd grumbled good-naturedly, but had carried a lot of Pepper's bags to her rooms for her.

Peter had been put to bed and Stephen had left with his cloak, telling them that he'd be back the next day, most likely. Clint had played cards with Stark, Pepper and Nat, but he'd excused himself after a short time to go to bed, leaving the three in the lounge.

They were telling Tony about the shopping trip, and Pepper was explaining how they'd tried to convince Peter that sandwiches didn't always have to be smashed flat to be edible when Stark's watch chimed. He frowned.

"Friday?"

"Peter just left the facility."

Stark was on his feet immediately.

"What entrance?"

"West side."

"Sleepwalking?" Pepper asked.

"Probably. But I'll go make sure it's not just a midnight stroll."

"I'll come, too," Natasha said.

They headed for the door in question, and once outside Tony went Ironman so he could use his scanners.

"Friday?"

"There."

A red blip, only fifty feet away or so.

Stark deactivated the suit and looked, Natasha following his gaze.

"There he is."

They walked over to the lounge chair that had been left on the edge of the field. In the light of the spotlights, they both saw a blanketed form underneath it. With a bare foot sticking out from under it.

"Not a midnight stroll," Stark said to Romanoff as the two crouched down.

"No. probably not."

"Peter?"

There was no response.

Tony lifted the chair up and out of the way, then judged the shape of the blanketed form and the angle that led from the exposed foot and carefully lifted an edge of the blanket. Peter looked up at them.

"Go away," he whispered.

"What are you doing?" Stark asked, reaching down and brushing tender fingers carefully against his cheek.

His skin was cold and he was shivering.

"I'm hiding."

"From who?"

"Bad news."

He pulled the blanket back over his head, and Tony and Natasha looked at each other, understanding immediately, of course.

"Sleepwalking?" Stark whispered. "Or just despondent or something?"

Natasha carefully pulled the blanket back once more.

"Peter? What's the square root of 4?"

"Tree branches."

He pulled the blanket back over his head.

"Sleepwalking," Stark said.

"We'll put him in my bed," Natasha told him.

It was closer.

"Yeah."

Gently, trying not to wake him and freak him out, Tony got the blanket off him and picked him up. Wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, it was no surprise that the boy was shivering and chilled. Stark shifted him in his arms just enough to make sure he didn't drop him and wondered where his socks and shirt had disappeared to. He'd had both on when he'd put him to bed earlier.

"I need to hide," Peter told them, realizing that he was dreadfully exposed once more.

"It's okay," Tony replied, brushing his cheek against the boy's and turning toward the building, with Natasha matching strides with him. "I know a much better hiding place for you."

Romanoff saw the hand almost automatically come up and touch Tony's cheek, run along his chin and the drop once more. She wasn't surprised at all when he settled against Stark's body without another objection and closed his eyes.

OOOOOOOO

"You got him okay?"

Natasha nodded, watching as Tony pulled the blankets over Peter. He was still cold, but not shaking.

"Yeah. I was going to go to bed soon, anyway. He won't be able to sneak by me if he tries to find a new hiding spot later."

Stark knew that was a fact.

"If you need me, call."

"Go get some sleep, Tony. He'll be fine in the morning."

"Yeah."

Stark lingered just a moment, which she completely understood, and then he left. Natasha went through her quarters and turned off all the lights. Then went back to her bedroom, pulled back the blankets enough to allow herself to slide into her bed beside the boy, cuddling right up beside him and covering them both.

Peter rolled, turning to be right up against her, his chilled skin instinctively seeking out her warm body, and his arms tucked between them to try and get warm. Romanoff wrapped her arms around him, holding him close enough to feel when he sighed.

"I'm hiding, Natasha," he mumbled, his lips near enough to her ear that she had no trouble hearing him.

"I know," she assured him. "Go to sleep, Peter."

He did. His body relaxed against hers as he warmed up and his head dropped from her shoulder to her collarbone.

Of course, he'd never really been awake in the first place.

OOOOOOOOO

"Is he all right?" Pepper asked, when Tony returned to the lounge a few minutes after leaving Romanoff's quarters.

"Yeah. He was in the field – under the lounge chair."

"What? Why on earth was he under it?"

"Said he was hiding."

"Oh. Poor baby."

"Yeah. We'll want to ask around and find a good psychologist for him to talk all this out once things settle a little."

"I agree."

This was something that he could be helped with. Not Avengers issues, or Loki attacking him, or almost dying because Spiderman couldn't handle the same nutmeg issue that all his high school friends shook off in only a matter of days. There was no reason to worry about his secret coming out.

This was just finding a way to help him through the loss of a loved one. Something a good doctor could help with.

"Natasha has him?"

He nodded, and finished the drink that had been interrupted by Friday's warning. He was ready for bed, too.

"Who better to hide with, really, than an assassin?"

"Ironman?"

He smiled, because that was true.

"She called dibs, first."