They ate dinner in the living room. It was just the three of them, after all, and it wasn't something incredibly messy, so Strange just brought their steaks, potatoes and carrots out to the coffee table and summoned up anything else they wanted – like coffee for the men and a cola for Peter. It was good, and they were all hungry. They'd had a busy day watching Peter sled, after all.
"Is there anything you haven't done here that you wanted to do?" Tony asked the boy when they were done eating and Strange had simply cleared the dishes with a thought, rather than get up from the other side of Peter.
"Like what?" he asked, curiously.
He realized that he felt a bit warm. He'd initially thought it was from the heat of the fire after being outside in the cold for so long, but he was warmer than he thought he should be, and wasn't sure if it was something he should mention. He didn't want to worry either man sitting on the couch with him.
"I don't know," Stark said, shrugging. "Something you thought you'd get to do during this trip, but it didn't come up."
"We didn't see any moose."
"Did you think that we would?" Stephen asked.
Peter shrugged.
"I guess not."
"We didn't see any penguins, either," Tony pointed out.
"True."
Peter suddenly remembered something and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Strange.
"You never told me what my new phone case will do."
"Wong came up with a summoning spell for it," Strange told him. "You'll have to have him with you when he sets it – to link it directly to you – but when it's activated, you'll be able to call it to you if you've lost it, or if you can't reach it and you're comfortable and don't want to get up but someone is calling you."
"Cool. Like the teleporting stone?"
"Similar. That's where he got the idea, I imagine." Strange smirked. "He wanted to make a spell that would zap a person who tried to steal the case – and the phone – but I thought that might not be the best of ideas."
"Probably not," Tony agreed. "The summoning spell is something you can only use when you're alone, too, don't forget. Or with Ned. We don't want people freaking out at school if you start experimenting with it there."
"Yeah. No. I'll be careful," Peter promised.
"We know you will," the doctor said. "Otherwise we wouldn't trust you with it."
Peter smiled at that.
"You could make a killing if you sold the technology. Phone companies would be tearing down your doors for a case that can't be stolen."
"It's not technology, though," Strange pointed out. "It's magic. No technology can do what magic can do…"
"Wait a minute," Stark said, holding up a hand. "I can fly. Can you?"
"With the cloak, yes."
"So, my tech does what your magic does…"
"Your Ironman suit is extremely impressive, Tony," Stephen acknowledged. "But you can't teleport in it."
"Can you go outside and do an immediate scan for moose?"
"No. I could use a spell, though."
"Would you have to look in a book for that spell?"
"Depends on the spell."
Peter realized that the conversation was taking a turn that he really didn't want it to take. Magic was formidable, and so was the technology that Tony had access to. He didn't want the two men – who were both very proud of their sphere of influence – to actually get into an argument about which was better. He started to reach for his phone and gasped when he accidentally jarred the injured hip. Which brought the argument to an immediate stop.
"Are you alright?" Stark asked.
"Yeah. Sorry." He bit his lower lip. "Just moved wrong."
"Did you hurt it on the hill?"
"No. It's just been sore all day. It's a gunshot wound, after all."
"Let me take a look at it," Stephen said. "Then we'll find something more interesting to do than argue about which is better; magic or technology."
"They're both amazing," Peter reminded the men as he leaned toward Tony to allow the doctor access to the injured hip. "It's not really a contest. Especially the way you guys make them work together."
He winced when the bandage came off, exposing the wound to the open air and twisted around to try to get a look at it.
"You reopened it," Strange told him, dabbing at the crease with a medicated towelette and making Peter jump at the contact.
Tony held him fast, looking at the wound while the doctor assessed it. It had bled a little, but was simply red and raw, like before.
"Shouldn't it be healing a little better, Stephen?" he asked. "We know Peter heals quickly."
"A gunshot is a bit more serious than bruising, though," Strange reminded him. "It's not the same. He didn't recover from his cold any sooner than an average person would. Maybe some injuries aren't subject to his special abilities."
"So, the moral of the story is don't get shot," Stark told the boy with a wink, trying to take his mind off how much it was hurting, just then. "Got it?"
"Yeah."
"Words to live by," Strange agreed. He applied a medicated salve along the crease – one meant to numb the pain – and then covered the injury with several layers of thick bandages and taped them down. "I don't want you moving any more than necessary the rest of the night. All right?"
"I don't feel like doing anything, anyway," Peter admitted. He was tired, and sore, and suddenly had a thought. A very real fear that seized him for absolutely no reason. "You're not leaving me, though?"
"No," Tony told him, frowning and reaching out to touch his forehead, automatically. He was surprised to find that the boy was almost hot. "We're not going anywhere. Is it my imagination, or is he fevered?"
Strange frowned, too, and reached over to press his palm against the boy's forehead. Peter closed his eyes as the doctor ran his hand from his forehead to his cheek and kept it there for a moment.
"It isn't your imagination. He's fevered, and I'm an idiot."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, he's been going through portals all afternoon, up and down the sledding hill. Each one dosing him with a little magical energy. Not a lot at a time, but I imagine that throughout the day it added up enough to cause the fever – and maybe a little delirium. And slowly enough for me not to notice. I didn't even consider it."
"Don't beat yourself up over it," Tony told him, sincerely, brushing a hand against Peter's cheek. "We didn't, either."
"Magic is my specialty, though, Tony," Strange reminded him. "And we know how it can affect Peter. This one is definitely on me."
"It's not that bad," Peter told him. "I feel okay."
"He's fine," Stark said. "We'll let him sleep it off, and he'll be good to go by morning. Right, Peter?"
"Yeah. Even sooner."
Strange didn't look entirely convinced, but a pitcher of water appeared on the coffee table with a glass and the doctor filled it and handed it to the boy.
"Drink that." Peter didn't even argue. He drank the first glass and then asked for a refill and drank that one, too. Peter was suddenly dressed in loose fitting sweats instead of the somewhat damp jeans that he had been wearing, and a couple of blankets appeared. "Looks like a quiet night in, just like you planned, Tony."
Stark smiled and helped Strange get the boy situated on the sofa, but he brought Peter's head down to his leg instead of a pillow. He wanted to be able to keep track of the boy's temperature and he wanted to stay close by. The sofa was plenty big enough and comfortable enough for the three of them.
Peter just sighed, and closed his eyes. Just as the two men thought that he might be asleep, the boy stirred, coming awake with a start.
"Tony?"
"I'm here. Go back to sleep."
"I don't like it when you and Stephen argue…"
Stark looked over at Strange. Both of them could count on one hand how many times Peter had referred to the doctor by his first name – and he'd been sleepwalking, then.
"We're not arguing, Peter."
"It scares me."
"I know…" He didn't, but now he did. The two looked at each other, as Stark stroked Peter's hair, trying to calm him, both wondering what the boy was sensing that they weren't. A clash of magic and technology? Of Ironman versus magician? If it were truly serious, it could be something that would be frightening. Maybe even catastrophic. There was a lot of power in that living room right then, and Tony shook his head. "We're friends, Peter. Friends might disagree, but they don't argue. Go to sleep."
"You'll stay?"
"Of course."
"Stephen?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Strange assured him.
Peter sighed and closed his eyes, again, relaxing. He was asleep in moments, his hand resting on Tony's leg.
"Well that was odd…" Stark said, softly.
"Yes. And a warning, maybe?"
"But not from Peter…"
"No. I'd agree with you on that."
"Agree to disagree?"
"Absolutely."
"Want to play chess?"
"Yes. But not the 3-D one."
"Set up the board. I'm not good at the 3-D one, anyway."
"You're not that good at the 2-D one, either, I'll remind you. You lost a jet and a pony."
Stark smirked.
"You lost Wong and the sanctum."
"Good point."
Both men smiled at that reminder, and Strange got up to go get the chess board.
