"Seriously… do you do brain surgery this way?"

Strange looked over at Stark, who had been watching him apply the poultice to Peter's chest. Originally, just to lend a hand when needed to avoid any jarring that might hurt the boy, but then out of grudging fascination. Rather than pull his shirt off, Strange had simply gestured and it was hung over the back of the sofa. Then he'd held up his hand and a pair of scissors had appeared, which he used to cut off the bandages that were wrapped so tightly around Peter's chest and belly.

Stark had frowned at just how many shades of purple and black there were splotched along the area that had been covered and he had to admit that if May had any idea, she probably would have freaked. He almost did, and he'd looked just like that a time or two, so he was used to the results of heroic combat. Or in Peter's case, getting beat up by a crazy godling.

Rather than use his hand, another gesture had materialized a flat spatula looking thing that probably had a medical name, but looked a lot like something Tony might have used in the kitchen baking a cake. If he actually baked. Or spent any time in the kitchen. This was used to smear the oatmeal looking paste onto Peter's chest and belly, covering all the bruises and the tiny cuts that were already well on their way to being healed.

"What do you mean?" Strange asked, curiously.

Tony gesture with a hand.

"I need a scalpel. Poof! I need retractors. Poof! Bring me another patient. Poof!"

Peter chuckled, because he had been just as fascinated by the process and Strange couldn't help but smile. He shook his head, though.

"No, I didn't learn my arts until after I injured my hands. Before that it was just like everyone else would do it."

"You learned magic?" Peter asked. He had just assumed that it was something someone was born with. Or that Strange might be an alien or something hiding out in human form.

"Of course."

"Anyone could do it?"

"With a lot of practice it can be learned, yes." He shrugged. "Up to a point. It doesn't hurt to be born with a leaning in that direction."

"You were?" Tony asked.

"Yes. But I didn't know that until I tried it."

The doctor winked at Peter, made a gesture and a couple of rolls of bandages appeared on the coffee table, along with tape told hold it down. He picked one of the bandages up and started wrapping them over the poultice, tightly.

"Watch what I'm doing, Tony. If I'm not here this afternoon you're going to be doing it."

"Right."

"Not so tight that it hurts, but enough to support those ribs, and keep the poultice right up against the skin."

Strange slid a finger under the bottom of the bandage and had Tony do the same to get a feel for what it should be like, then taped it all firmly closed, and helped Peter get his shirt back on.

"That's it. The good thing about the medicine being on the outside is that in this case, at least, there's no limit to how often we apply it, but Wong says every eight hours or so should keep it fresh."

"What do we do when it runs out?" Tony asked. It wasn't a very big pot, after all.

"It won't."

"Seriously?"

"That's cool," Peter murmured, amazed all over again.

"I'll tell him you approve," Stephen told them.

"Tell him I said thanks," Peter said, sincerely. The stuff wasn't doing much for the pain yet, but he was touched that Wong had even thought of him. Even if all it did was leave a smear of green on him, it was still the thought that counts.

"Invite him to your aunt's surprise party," Strange suggested. "He doesn't get out enough."

"Sure."

"Now what?" Tony asked, switching to the subject at hand.

"He needs to rest until breakfast. Then feed him and keep him as still as possible for the next couple of days. By then, the poultice should have done its job and we should be over the worst of the pain. Then back to water therapy to regain stamina."

"Thanks, Stephen."

"You're welcome."

"That party invitation extends to you, as well, you know? You and Christine, both."

The doctor nodded.

"We accept." He gestured and several more rolls of bandages and tape appeared on the coffee table. Then he stood up. "Wong and I are working on teaching the Sanctum protections to look for indications of any future activities from Loki."

"Do you think he'll attack the Sanctum?" Stark asked.

"No. I doubt it. The place is more than a match for him. But once we do, we'll spread that net over the city – just to make sure we don't have a repeat of anything like this again."

"Good idea."

Tony approved of anything that made his city safer, after all. And something that could keep Peter out of trouble, too.

"I'll be back to check on you later," Strange told Peter. He nodded to them both and vanished.

"That guy knows how to make an exit," Tony said, admiringly.

"It feels weird when he does it," Peter murmured, more to himself than to Tony.

"What do you mean?"

Peter frowned.

"You know, the tingly feeling when he appears or disappears – or when he moves something or makes something come to him."

"Yeah, I don't feel anything like that," Stark replied.

"Never?"

"You do?" Tony asked. "Since when?"

"Since always, I think. Or maybe I just noticed it or something."

"Huh." It wasn't derisive, just Tony Stark thinking out loud. "Maybe it's the spider sense, thing. It would make sense, I suppose…"

Peter shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Kind of tingles."

"Do you feel it now?"

"No. Only when he does stuff."

Now it was Tony's turn to shrug.

"If it starts to bother you, say something. Okay?"

Peter nodded, and Tony changed the subject.

"Is that stuff working?"

"I'd rather not move around and find out."

Good point.

"Then lay down here, and get some sleep. You were up early."

"Okay."

The sofa was plenty big enough for one scrawny kid to stretch out, and Stark made sure Peter was comfortable and covered before he sat down on the other end and pulled the switch to recline his side. He wondered how many other applications Peter's spider senses could work with – and wondered if there was a way to incorporate those feelings into the suit he'd built for him. Or the suit he was building. He'd have to think about that.

After he took a nap, too.