The smell of fast food woke Stark. The motion of someone sitting on the edge of his bed made him open his eyes, and he smiled when he saw who it was.
"What are you eating?"
"Chicken sandwich." Peter held it out toward him. "Want some?"
"No. Thanks." He sat up a bit. "How do you feel?"
"I'm okay. Just woke up." Peter reached over and put a hand against Stark's forehead, though. "You're still warm."
"Not too bad," Tony told him. "Don't worry, okay?"
"Are you up for some company?"
"Yeah."
He patted the spot beside him and the boy settled in, tucking right up next to him, still munching on his dinner.
"Does Pepper know you're here?"
"Yeah. She said I can't get too close, or I might get you sick."
Stark smiled, pleased that the boy had regained his sense of humor.
"You've been getting enough sleep? Eating right?"
"I think so."
"How are you doing?"
This time Peter knew he wasn't asking about his cold, or his eating or sleeping habits. The boy hesitated, and then shrugged.
"I'm okay. Sometimes it hurts so much I don't think I can breathe, and other times it's not so bad. I suppose it's always going to hurt a little, though."
Stark put an arm around him.
"When it's too much, just take a step back and breathe, okay? And if you need anything you know I'm always here. Pepper, too."
"I know. Thanks."
"Do you get to stay?"
"They didn't tell me I have to come right back." He smiled and reached for the mug on the stand by the bed. "Dr. Strange said if you were awake to have you drink this."
That earned him a scowl.
"I'm not going to drink that."
"He said to tell you that if you don't, I can't stay."
"He didn't say that…"
Peter shrugged, and the scowl deepened.
"Fine." Tony took the mug and quaffed the contents as quickly as he could, then handed the mug back to Peter. "Want to watch a movie?"
"Yeah."
Stark handed the boy the remote, and settled in beside him, leaning against him like Peter had leaned on him so many times before.
"You choose."
"Comedy?"
"No."
"Action?"
"Nah…"
"Chick flick?"
"Peter…"
The boy smiled and pulled Tony's blankets up over him to make sure he was warm, and then started looking for a movie for them to watch. He didn't care what it was; he was just in it for the company.
OOOOOOOOO
It was an hour or so later that Pepper and Strange came to check on things.
Peter looked up when they came through the door, but Stark had fallen asleep and Peter had turned the TV off to keep it from disturbing him. Instead he was reading a book he'd found on the nightstand.
"Why is it so dark in here?" Pepper asked, softly.
"I'm just reading," Peter told her, holding up the book. "I didn't want to wake him up when he fell asleep."
"Did he wake up?" Strange asked, leaning over and resting a palm against Peter's forehead first, and then Stark's.
"Yeah. He drank that stuff and then we started watching a movie. When he fell asleep I just turned it off."
"And sat in the dark playing pillow?" Pepper asked with a smile, not missing the way Tony was leaning against the boy.
"I don't mind."
"I'd rather you not spend any more time with him than he needs to reassure himself that you're healthy," Strange told him. "We've got you almost over it, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"I feel okay."
"I know."
"Then I could-"
"Steve and Clint are in the lounge," Pepper said, to forestall any argument. "Why don't you go see what trouble you guys can get into…?"
Peter hesitated, but then he nodded and carefully extricated himself from beside Stark, set the book down on the stand where he'd found it and left.
Strange smiled at Pepper.
"Very smooth. You've got the mom thing down already…"
She shrugged.
"I think it's from dealing with Tony in his more difficult years."
Pepper tucked the blankets around him, and then she and Strange left the room, too.
OOOOOOOOO
When Peter walked into the lounge Steve and Clint were sitting in the corner table eating burgers and fries and talking to Bruce who had already had dinner.
"How's Tony?" Bruce asked.
Peter shrugged.
"He's asleep, but he looked okay."
"How are you doing?"
"Okay, thanks."
"Strange didn't send you back to bed?" Clint asked.
"No. Pepper told me to come find you guys and see what we can do…"
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Steve and Clint looked at each other, and Clint grinned.
"Go put on your flight suit."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Why not? We'll meet you at the jet when you're ready."
Peter took off, and Steve shook his head.
"We're not going to Phoenix."
"Nah. We don't need to, though." He looked at Bruce. "Want to come?"
Banner hesitated, and then shrugged.
"Sure."
"Go get on your flight suit."
"Am I going to need it?"
"Definitely."
Every time they had Peter in the jet a flight suit was needed – Clint liked to try to make the boy sick if he could.
"We need to change, too," Steve said told him. "You have time. We'll meet you on the pad."
OOOOOOOO
It was more than two hours later when Peter walked into the lounge with Steve, Bruce and Clint. They saw Pepper and Stephen Strange seated at the table that they had recently vacated, and headed that way. Pepper smiled, because Peter was grinning ear to ear, Clint looked extremely pleased with himself and Banner and Rogers were both a little pale but relatively cheerful.
They were also all wearing flight suits.
"What have you guys been up to?" She asked, smiling because it was so good to see that Peter was.
"I flew the jet," Peter told her, hugging her, impulsively.
"You did?"
She frowned, looking at the others, but putting her arms around him almost automatically and holding him against her.
Clint nodded.
"He did. And he was amazing."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Strange frowned as well.
"I was under the impression that the Quinjet has fairly sensitive controls…"
"Oh, it does," Clint agreed. "Peter has the reflexes to handle it, though. Every turn was smooth as glass. I couldn't have done better."
Strange and Pepper both looked at Steve, who shrugged.
"We were just going to take him for a flight – to get his mind off things – but we've checked him out in the simulator and he's cleared everything we threw at him, so we decided to let him give it a try."
"And you didn't crash…" Strange said. "Obviously."
"He's good," Clint said, impressed. "Really good."
"He didn't get to try landing or taking off, but I bet he wouldn't have any trouble with it," Steve added. "He's done that in the simulator, too."
"I think Tony would prefer that he has his driver's license before he starts going for a pilot's license," Pepper told them, squeezing the boy once more before letting him go. "But I'm glad you had fun."
"I did. Thanks." He smiled. "I'm going to go tell Natasha."
Peter turned and left, and Pepper frowned at Clint and Steve.
"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I told him to go find some trouble to get into…"
"The boy's a natural," Steve told her, sitting down. "The jet never even threatened a stall, and like Clint said, his turns were smooth. Even the barrel rolls were perfect."
"He was doing aerials?"
"Made Bruce throw up," Clint confirmed with a grin.
Pepper wasn't smiling, though, now that Peter was gone.
"Guys…"
"It was safe," Steve assured her. "He really is good – or we never would have let him try it."
"Easy, momma bear," Clint said, recognizing the same look he'd seen on his wife's face a time or two when he and his son had found something to do that she might not have necessarily approved of. "He's on the ground and no harm done. And he had a good time."
She relented, but shook her head.
"Let's not tell Tony until he's on his feet, okay?"
The less said about it, the better. For now, at least.
OOOOOOOOO
Natasha was, predictably, in her bed when Peter tapped on the door to her bedroom. Just because he tended to sleepwalk himself into her bed more often than not - and knew he was welcomed to be there even when he was awake - he wasn't rude enough to assume that she was okay with him barging into her bedroom whenever he wanted to.
He had better manners than that.
She smiled when she saw him and waved him in.
"Why are you wearing a flight suit?" she asked, when he walked over and flopped down beside her on her bed.
Peter grinned and hugged her, feeling just as exuberant as he had when he'd seen Pepper.
"I flew the jet."
"Without me?"
His smile faded. He hadn't thought about that. Just about himself.
"Yes. I'm sorry."
Romanoff felt guilty at just how quickly she'd squashed his excitement - and she knew how exciting it had had to have been for him to fly the Quinjet. Not the same as a solo flight, of course, but incredible, she knew. Especially for a fifteen year old.
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, kissing his temple.
"Don't be. I'm just being selfish, wishing I'd been there to see it. Did Clint take you up?"
"Yeah. I made Bruce throw up."
"Really?" She smiled at that, and let him go so she could look at him. "Tell me all about it."