A/N: So the fix is coming, and I won't draw out the worry too long. Not because I'm worried about things getting boring, or dull in the story, but mainly because even though I love to add a little whumping to poor Peter, I can't do it to baby Peter, and he's the one that would suffer. Thanks!
OOOOOOOO
"If this goes on much longer, he's going to forget he has legs…"
Tony smiled, sitting at his regular table and watching as Nick Fury carried Peter over to one of the sofas in the lounge and sit the toddler on his knee. From the body language of the two, he was giving Peter a speech of some kind, although they were too far away to hear what was being said. For his part, Peter was watching the director, intently, nodding his head every now and then when Fury did.
"They need time with him," Stark said, softly. "I can understand that."
Pepper could, too.
She and Tony were ostensibly in the lounge for dinner, although it was a little early. They'd been spending a lot of time there the past four days, because that's where the others were, and they all wanted to spend time with Peter. In groups, or – more commonly – individually, inevitably someone would come over to where the toddler was playing with his blocks on the blanket, or just sitting on Tony or Pepper. They'd offer him their arms and when he accepted, they'd simply silently carry him off to be alone with him. Sitting on the couch in the lounge, or sometimes off to their quarters, or on walks outside or even through the corridors of the compound.
They were all worried, of course, and trying to hide that concern from each other. Stark could tell, though. He saw it in their faces when they'd take Peter into their arms. They were hoping for a positive outcome and realistically trying to steel themselves for the worst. He understood, because he and Pepper were doing the same thing. When they were together, he'd see her forced smile belie the scared or haunted look in her eyes, and knew that they mirrored his own.
He was certain it was even worse for her when he wasn't there with her, since she didn't need to try and hide that worry.
On the positive side, Peter – little Peter – seemed to be healthy, still. He didn't sleep well at night, and sometimes would cry for seemingly no reason, but Clint had mentioned that his littlest did that, sometimes, too. Whether it was true, or he was just trying to keep them from worrying, Tony didn't know. But he appreciated it.
"Any word from Stephen or Wong?" Pepper asked.
"Not since the other day."
Strange had made an appearance two days after he'd told Tony about seeing Peter. The doctor looked tired, and worn, but had assured Tony that they were doing everything that they could. Stark knew that, and had said so. It wasn't fair to the magicians that it seemed everything depended on them, but in this instance, there wasn't a thing that any of the Avengers could do to help them – aside from staying out of their way and not continually calling them asking for updates.
When they had something, Tony knew that they'd let him know. But waiting was hard for them. They were all used to action. Not hurry up and wait.
"We're going to owe them big time when they figure it out," Pepper said, softly, reaching for Tony's hand as her attention went to Fury and Peter.
Now he had Peter in his arms and was rocking him, occasionally swooping him down to swing him, which would make the toddler giggle. Tony and Pepper both smiled every time Peter did.
"We'll buy the building next to the sanctum and install a day spa there," Tony suggested.
"And a tailor," she added, with a smile.
They all knew how Strange loved a nice suit.
"What are you two talking about?"
They both looked up and saw Natasha had joined them without them noticing. Not a surprise, really, and not just because they were distracted. She was an assassin, after all. It'd be a poor day for her if she couldn't sneak up on a worried businesswoman and a preoccupied tinkerer.
"We're taking bets to see if Peter throws up on Fury," Tony lied. "I'm hoping he does, but Pepper doesn't think so."
If anyone was stressed more than Tony and Pepper, it was Natasha. She had cleared her schedule completely, telling the others that she couldn't concentrate enough right then to work on anything that required too much of her attention. With Stephen working himself day and night with Wong to find the cause of what happened to Peter, added to the threat that was looming over the boy – in both forms – it wasn't surprising that she looked almost as tired as Tony, lately.
She looked over and her expression softened, as it always did when she saw someone playing with Peter.
"How is he?"
"He took a nap for about an hour, a little while ago, and he seems fine. Do you want him after dinner? He'll be especially messy, since it's spaghetti night."
Romanoff smiled.
"You don't mind?"
"You have to bathe him, if you take him," Pepper reminded her.
"It's worth it. Thanks."
OOOOOO
"You know, I think you're right."
Strange looked over at Wong, thinking that the other man needed to get some sleep. He looked tired.
"About what?"
"The book. It had to be the book."
They'd gone back to the beginning, like they'd intended. Looking at all of the relics that had initially been involved in the explosion. Including the cloak. It was easy enough to rule the cloak out, though. Using their typical yes and no questions, Stephen had simply asked if it felt any magical energies being drawn from it when the explosion had happened. When it told them no, that was their answer – and their way to mark it off the suspect list.
The pendant had been their top suspect, because it didn't require interaction with anything, since it was jewelry, but it, too, had ended up expelled from their suspect list.
"The book and the chalice," Strange said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, tiredly. "They couldn't have interacted, though, could they?"
"Impossible."
"Which means we ruled it out, immediately, before."
"Right."
"Let's look at it, again, then."
Wong didn't even argue. He nodded and went over to a shelf to get a research book.
OOOOOOOO
"If I were a naked baby, trying to avoid a bath, where would I be…?" Natasha asked, aloud, pretending to look all around her quarters. She picked up a picture from off the coffee table and made a show of looking under it before putting it down, and then bent over onto her hands and knees to look under the couch.
She heard a soft giggle, and forced herself not to look the direction it came from.
"I'm going to find you, baby… then I'm going to get you…" she said in a sing-song voice, crawling along the floor and getting up to look behind the TV mounted on the wall.
Another giggle.
This time she pounced, making a low growling noise as she swooped in behind the potted banana tree that Peter was hiding behind and gathered him into her arms.
"Gotcha!"
The toddler squealed, happily, and put his arms around her neck. Ignoring the fact that she was being smeared with red sauce and tiny pieces of spaghetti, Romanoff kissed his cheek, smearing him further, and making him giggle.
"Na'asha…" he said into her neck. "Gotcha."
The spy smiled, sadly, and carried him toward her bathroom, and the waiting bathwater that he'd so recently escaped from.
"Yes, you do."