Author's Note: So I have a wonky schedule for work in case someone has noticed. Sometimes I get plenty of time to write, sometimes I have very little. Which is one of the reasons I break my stories into chapters like I do. Just explaining my randomness when it comes to posting. Thanks for reading.

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"Peter…?"

The voice alone might not have woken him, but someone was gently shaking his shoulder, which he couldn't ignore. He opened his eyes, wondering how he'd managed to get back into his bed. The last thing he remembered had been talking to Doctor Strange in the hallway. Now he was in bed, and Strange was sitting on the edge of the bed, waking him up with a hand on the shoulder. The book he had in the other hand told Peter that maybe he'd been asleep for a while, but the doctor's expression didn't look worried. Although Peter had to admit that he didn't know him well enough to read him.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up.

"You fell asleep. Or more aptly, you passed out."

"Really?"

"In the middle of a conversation," Strange confirmed. "Standing up. Sticking to the wall."

For someone who had pretty much seen all there was to see – at least he thought he had – it had been interesting to say the least when Peter had suddenly passed out on him while they'd been talking. He'd grabbed for the boy the moment his eyes had closed, expecting to catch him mid fall. But the hand that he had touching the wall had maintained that connection and even though Peter had slumped, he hadn't fallen. He'd just stayed where he was. That single contact holding firm.

"Really?"

The confusion made Strange smile. It wasn't the same kind of fever induced confusion that they'd been dealing with. This was just a genuine what the hell happened garden variety muddle. The kind someone who'd had too much to drink might exhibit.

"Yes."

He'd wondered for a moment if the boy was simply stuck there to the wall until he woke up - which would have been awkward. But when he'd taken the hand and pulled it away from the wall, Peter had slumped against him. Then it had been a simple matter of picking him up and carrying him back to his bed. And looking at his fingertips and hand again once he'd had him covered up. They didn't look any different than his own, really. It was definitely interesting. To say the least.

"I'd prefer you didn't tell Tony."

"He knows I can stick to walls."

"That you passed out."

"Oh. Yeah. No. No. I'm not going to tell him."

It would make him worry. Or make him want to keep Peter in bed. He didn't want to worry Mr. Stark any more than he already had.

"It's an amazing talent," Strange conceded.

"Just a crazy accident. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"But what you do with it does say a lot about you."

He dismissed the book with a thought, and it was replaced with a tablet. Peter saw a YouTube video of Spiderman swinging in and pulling a child away from an oncoming car that had just lost control, saving her at the last minute playing on it. But he wasn't interested in the video – he'd seen it before. What he couldn't believe was that the tablet had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and the book had vanished.

"How did you do that?"

"How did you know the girl was in danger?" Strange asked him, ignoring the question for the moment.

Peter shrugged, leaning over the edge of the bed by where the doctor was seated to see if the book had somehow been dropped to the floor and he hadn't noticed. It wasn't there. And that wouldn't have explained where the tablet had come from. Strange took his shoulder and pulled him back. The last thing he wanted was for blood to rush to his head and make him pass out again.

"Peter? How did you know she was going to need to be saved?"

"I get these feelings."

"Like ESP? A vision?"

"No. Not a vision. Just a feeling." He looked a little distracted. "It's hard to explain, really. Ned calls it my spider-sense, but I don't know what it is. I just know something is going to happen, and where I need to be."

"And you go there and see the problem and solve it."

"If I can. I can't, always. I'm not that good at it. Not really."

Which made Stephen wonder what kind of situation he'd failed to resolve. He didn't ask, though. The boy was young. He couldn't expect to save the world right out of the gate. Or rather, he probably did expect that, but would have to learn that it doesn't happen that way.

"I imagine that you'll get better in time, and with some practice."

"I hope so. I think so."

"It's a remarkable ability. You could probably rob an armored car and be set for life – you and your aunt."

He looked at Strange, surprised by the suggestion. Or maybe that he had made the suggestion. Stephen didn't have to read minds to know that Peter almost certainly knew that he could make a fortune with his abilities. The fact that he hadn't done any such thing in the time that he'd been using his new abilities told the doctor everything he needed to know about the boy and his character.

"I couldn't do that."

Strange smiled, patted his shoulder and stood up, banishing the tablet.

"No. You wouldn't. Ready to try another walk?"

"How did you do that?" Peter asked, looking at Strange and then around the room. He knew the tablet wasn't there, though. He would have heard it land if Strange had tossed it somewhere.

"It's magic."

"There's no such thing."

"Of course there is."

Rather than have another discussion about wormholes like the ones he'd had with Ned, Strange sat down beside Peter and produced the book once more and handed it to him.

Peter took it, feeling it. It was old, maybe a little dusty. But it was definitely a book. Definitely real. Strange took it back, and it vanished before it completely left the boy's hand.

"How else would you explain it?"

"Some kind of transporter technology."

"Nope. Did you feel anything?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"Try again, then."

The book returned. The same book, Peter knew when Strange handed it to him. It was still in his hand this time when it vanished. Peter had been watching it, and nothing had made him tingle like he knew it would.

"That's awesome. What else can you do? How do you do it?"

"I told you. Magic."

"But-"

"Come on." Strange put his hand under Peter's arm and hauled him to his feet, supporting him until he was able to stand on his own shaky legs. "You make it down the hall and back without passing out on me this time, and I'll try to explain what I can do over lunch."