"How's the shoulder?"

Peter rolled it, a little, proving that he had some mobility despite the bandages that were covering it – and the stitches holding the slight wound together.

"It's fine, Natasha."

She smiled. The two of them were doing the lunch dishes, and everyone else had left – after Tony reminded Peter to be careful with his shoulder – to go find last minute souvenirs and to spend some time with newfound friends and acquaintances in the other tribes before the last night of the gather. And the final bonfires.

"Are you ready for your bonfire?"

Since Peter hadn't really told anyone what his story was going to be about, naturally they had a pool going. Since she had access to him, the assassin decided that she'd see if she could get anything new out of him. It wasn't cheating, per se, since she already had her square filled in, so she didn't feel guilty for asking.

Finding out secrets was what spies did best, after all.

"Yeah, mostly," he replied, handing her a plate that he'd washed. "I'm going to finish it when we're done."

"You have it written down somewhere?" she asked, wondering if Tony had had Friday somehow get hold of it.

That would be cheating.

Peter smiled, not at all fooled. He didn't need the ancient long-dead sorcerer in his head to be able to know what she was up to. It was pretty transparent. Even for a guy like Peter, who wasn't that good, sometimes, at spotting the obvious as it was going on around him.

"Nope." He held a soapy finger to his temple. "It's all in my head, so far. I haven't seen anyone else reading a script, so I thought I'd just do it in my head. It'll make it more of a story that way – and not a book report."

Bah.

"True."

She dried the dishes as he handed them over, and the conversation switched to the other bonfires that they'd been to, and which ones they hadn't. Stephen and Wong had made sure that each was recorded by someone who had attended it, so while none of them had seen all of the stories offered, they were all going to be available, eventually, for any of them to watch.

"There is a plethora of knowledge," Wong had pointed out. "About Wakanda's past, and her people. It should be preserved, somewhere, and the sanctum is a good place for that."

"And the compound's library," Tony added, making Stephen frown.

"You don't have a library at the compound."

"We don't have a room," Tony had conceded. "But Friday holds all of the knowledge that we have ever come across – including the stones, some of your wonky artifacts – and your cloak, for that matter. If we've experienced it, then it's there for us to go back and read about – or watch – so we don't make the same mistakes, twice, or we can remember how we initially dealt with something that ended successfully."

The sorcerer supreme had to acknowledge the wisdom of that – and he did so, willingly.

"Smart. I'll make sure you get a copy of everything that you don't already have."

Stark smirked, well aware that Strange didn't give out compliments like that very often – succinct as it was.

"Thanks."

Natasha decided that she'd bring up one more topic since she had Peter to herself – definitely not one that she could have brought up, earlier, when Shuri was hanging around the young man.

"Have you heard anything from anyone – or any of the stones – about how to solve your thing?"

He shook his head, still smiling.

"My thing?" he echoed. "Is that what we're calling it?"

The most dangerous woman in the world rolled her eyes, amused, and a bit relieved. If he was joking about it, then it wasn't the sensitive subject that she had been concerned that it would be. She, more than any of the others, knew how it felt to not be able to have children, after all, and could best relate to what he might be going through. Of course, she'd be given her own personal miracle, hadn't she? And now she was hoping that there was a solution to Peter's, as well.

"We could call it whatever you want to," she assured him, smirking. "As long as we keep it G rated."

Peter nodded, his eyes still amused.

"I haven't heard anything from the shaman, yet," he told her. "I haven't seen them at all, today, come to think of it."

They were fairly prominent at the gathering, really, since it was about sharing stories and knowledge, and the shaman had that duty more than anyone in many of the tribes. Not all of the Wakandans mastered technology, as the Avengers well knew.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't, either," she admitted. And she was far more observant than Peter. "Does Alec know where they are?"

"No clue," the sorcerer admitted. "I can tell you that they aren't in your camp – and maybe not in T'Challa's. The rest of the gathering area is out of my range to identify individuals."

Peter passed the message on, and then shrugged.

"Alec thinks we're waiting on the mind stone to figure things out," he told her, pulling that from an earlier conversation. "Someone, somewhere, might have had the same 'thing', and there may have been a fix. If there was, then the mind stone will eventually find that solution. Or a solution that would have to work with the resources we have."

She nodded. That was what she already knew, too. Natasha didn't miss much that was going on around her, after all.

"Are you alright?"

"Mentally, you mean?" he asked, making sure that she hadn't brought the conversation back to his shoulder without him knowing.

"Mentally and all other allys that may apply," she told him. "Are you freaking out?"

"No." He appreciated the concern. "I'm not sure why," he added, with a shrug that reminded him not to do that too much. "Because if I'd known about this earlier, I might be panicking, or stressing that you guys are worrying about it and it's causing problems with you."

"We're not."

"I know." He supposed that it was Alec, really, who was the difference. "Tony and Pepper aren't panicking, and Stephen and Wong have already said that they're working on it. Everyone is calm and Alec is telling me that – which means that it's true – and that's keeping me from worrying, too."

"Good."

Peter smiled.

"Besides," he added. "It's not like I want to rush out and start making babies. There's plenty of time to get a solution, now that we know the problem is there. I'm far too young to be a father. I'm still learning how to be a son – if that makes any sense?"

It had been a long time since he'd had a father (or mother – although May had tried very hard to fill both of those roles for her nephew) after all. Natasha nodded, and spontaneously hugged him.

"It does," she assured him, smiling when he hugged her back, his soapy hands being dried on her shirt – which made her grumble when she realized that he was doing it on purpose. Cheeky punk. She pulled away. "Make sure you tell someone if you start feeling overwhelmed, though. Got it?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You're welcome." The dishes were done, really, and he was draining the small sink. "You're going to go work on your bonfire story?"

"Yes. You're going to go find Stephen?"

"Yes. We'll see you at dinner."

"Okay."

"Unless you want me to help you with your story…?"

"Nope."

She rolled her eyes.

Damn.