"You'll call me?"

Tony nodded, opening the door for her.

"Day or night. I promise."

May wasn't happy about leaving and it showed quite clearly. Ned wasn't happy either, especially since he didn't have a chance to see Peter before leaving, but the limousine Happy was standing next to was enough of a distraction to take his mind off his concern for the moment. Stark knew that May didn't have that luxury and he was doing everything he could to make her forced departure easier for her.

She got into the car, and Tony shut the door, then leaned in the window.

"You'll be back before you know it."

Happy started the car and Tony watched as they pulled out, Ned already opening all the compartments in the back of the car, checking out what was in them. Touching everything.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Strange was seated in what Stark was beginning to think of as his chair, his feet propped up on the edge of Peter's bed with an open book in his hands. The book looked like it was at least a couple hundred years old, with archaic script on the outside and God only knew what kind of writing inside..

"Did they leave?" Strange asked without looking up.

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Is there anything he needs?"

"No. Just sleep." Now Strange did look up. "When is the last time you slept?"

"When I let Peter almost kill himself."

"Then I'll stay with him a while, and you go get some sleep."

"I'm fine."

Strange shut the book with a snap and it vanished.

"You're not fine, Tony. Not even close. You need some sleep, or you're going to be in the next room flat on your back as well."

"I don't need to sleep. I need to be here for him."

"You are here for him," Stephen told him. "But the next few days are going to be rough ones, and you're going to need to be healthy. Trust me on this one. Get the sleep now, because you'll need the reserves later."

"I don't-"

"Go to bed or I swear I'll spike your orange juice and knock you out for three days."

Stark scowled, unwilling to back down from what was obviously a challenge. Common sense told him that Strange was right, though. And that Strange was also willing to do exactly what he threatened to do.

"Fine." He looked over at Peter, who hadn't moved. "I'll go get someone to watch him."

"I can watch him," Strange told him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a master of the mystic arts, Tony," Stephen reminded him with a slight smile. "I can handle one sick fifteen year old. No matter how fast he is."

Good point.

"I'll be back."

"Not for at least four hours."

"Fine."

Tony turned on his heel and headed for the door. Strange watched him go, looked at Peter and then at the monitor, made a slight motion with his hand and the book was back.

OOOOOOOOOOO

'"Go to bed or I swear I'll spike your orange juice and knock you out for three days…'"

Stark muttered the phrase over and over as he walked toward his office, irritation making him forget that he was a little tired and could use a nap. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to be told to sleep. Not by someone he barely knew. So what if he was a brilliant brain surgeon. So what if he could make portals and move people – and objects – with a wave of his hand. He didn't know everything. He probably didn't even-

"Who peed in your pasta?"

Tony was brought up sharp. He hadn't noticed Natasha coming from the opposite corridor, but she had obviously seen him, and read his expression perfectly.

"Strange."

She smirked, amused. Of course it was Strange. She had met the man, and had done a little digging, just out of curiosity, and as far as she was concerned Stark and Strange were two of a kind. She figured the only thing keeping that powder keg from blowing was their mutual concern for Peter.

"Want me to kill him?"

Tony laughed, surprised by the sound but completely snapped out of his dark mood by the offer. Which she probably knew would happen. Agent Romanoff was very skilled with people, he knew.

"No. We still need him. But thanks."

She nodded.

"How's Peter doing?"

"He's holding his own, but the next few days are going to tell."

"They got their antigen?"

"Apparently. Strange just administered it."

She didn't ask the obvious question, but Tony answered it anyway.

"I've been sent to bed."

Ah.

"Do you want me to go check on him?"

"No. He's in good hands right now. Later, though, we're going to want to have watches on him – in case we get a repeat of that nightmare."

"I'm in."

He'd expected that.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Good night."

He scowled again but she was already walking away, and he couldn't think of a good comeback anyway. Maybe he did need a little sleep.