Peter spent a long time in the tub. He made bubbles – he loved playing with bubbles in the bathtub. If he concentrated, sometimes, he could remember taking them when he was much younger – before his parents had died. He could sometimes remember his mother smiling at him and playing with a rubber duck.

He had a rubber duck, now, too. There were two; one was colored like Captain America and the other was green and had muscles like the Incredible Hulk. There was also a plethora of bath toys to occupy him while he soaked, but Peter didn't play with them as he soaked in the tub, that morning.

The thing at school had been scary, but it had been kind of exciting, too. Like the thing with the tree branch with him and Pepper in the park. This had been scarier, of course – he'd actually been grabbed by a man he didn't know except for the one time he had been introduced to him, and he knew that the man was dead, now – but now that the fear was gone, it was more exciting than anything.

Peter looked at his arm, with the bruises that were so darkly purple and black, and the fringes were a gross yellow color, and felt his cheek. It was sore, too. But he replayed what had happened in his mind over and over as he soaked in the bath and played with the bubbles that were formed when he'd turn the jets on, and it wasn't so scary now.

Natasha had saved him. And Clint. And a ton of SHIELD agents had been with them – and Ironman, Captain America and all of the others were at the school soon after. They were all there because of him. To take care of him. It had been scary at the time; all the guns (even though there really hadn't been a lot of that, since he could only remember there being one actual shot), and the yelling – and even the blood – but now Peter was just excited by the fact that so many people were there for him.

It was heady stuff for an eight-year-old to know the Avengers had his back.

Tony looked worried, though, and Peter thought that maybe he shouldn't mention it to his adopted father that he thought the attempted kidnapping was almost cool. Or not the kidnapping, but the response to it. He'd ask JARVIS once they were home what the AI thought. It knew Tony better than anyone, Peter knew. He wished that he could talk to him, there, but JARVIS wasn't in his room at the compound. He'd have to wait until he got home, he supposed.

A knock on the bathroom door drew him out of his musings and he looked over as Tony's head peeked into the room.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." The boy gestured to the bubbles with the Captain America rubber duck. "Just playing."

"I'm ready, so when you're done, I'll be waiting for you right here, okay?"

"In my room?"

"Yeah. In case you need me."

"Oh. Okay."

"Sure you're alright?"

"Yeah." Peter smiled. There was that love and concern that he rarely had gotten from May and only vaguely remembered from his mom and dad. "Are you?"

"I'm great, buddy," Tony assured him. "Just grateful that you're here. With me."

"Me, too." He hesitated. "You don't have to wait for me. We're having breakfast, next?"

"In the lounge," Stark confirmed. "I don't mind. I want to wait."

"You can play with my Legos."

Which made Tony smile at him, and made Peter feel a thrill of happiness at making that happen.

"Thanks. I'll be out here."

"Okay."

OOOOOOOO

The lounge wasn't empty when they arrived. Tony knew it wasn't going to be, since he was the one who had alerted the others to the fact that Peter was awake and that he seemed fine, physically. Mentally would be another matter, of course, but that couldn't be addressed, just yet. Tony had already mentioned it, and not surprisingly, SHIELD had a couple of psychologists and psychiatrists on their payroll.

Like the surgeons, they were not specialized in children – technically – but Tony was already planning on having Peter talk to one, if they could arrange it. If not, he'd find a good child psychologist for his son. The SHIELD ones would be preferred, of course, since they could be told Peter's abilities if needed, and trusted not to say anything.

Natasha wasn't the only one to smile when Peter and Tony joined them at the table, with Peter looking cheerful when he climbed into his chair with the thick books allowing him to see over the edge and look at the others.

"Hey, handsome," Natasha greeted him. "You look good."

"I slept all night," Peter told her.

That in itself was amazing to him.

"I heard. How do you feel?"

"My arm hurts – but not too much."

"Good." The others greeted the boy while Tony settled beside him. Romanoff raised an eyebrow. "How does it look?"

"His arm? There is a fair amount of bruising, but the edges are already yellowing. I checked when he got out of the bath, this morning."

Peter smiled at her.

"I'm okay."

"We want to talk to you," Steve told him. "About what happened."

"A debriefing," Sam added, knowing that Peter knew what that meant. "You're good with that, right?"

The boy's eyes widened, and they were all amused or relieved that he looked excited.

"Are you going to shine a light in my eyes and put me at a table in a dark room and ask me a bunch of questions?"

Tony rolled his eyes, despite his concerns, but it was Steve who replied, and he was smiling when he did.

"We could, if you want. I thought we'd do it in here, over a plate of donuts and chocolate milk."

Proving that he knew how best to approach anything with Peter, of course.

"What kind of donuts?"

"All kinds," Sam told him. "Feeling up to it?"

To eating donuts and drinking chocolate milk? Tony didn't need to wait for the nod – or Peter's smile. He knew they were coming.

"Yeah."

"Good." Wilson left, walking over to the bar to get the required items, and Tony asked Peter to go help him carry them back.

When the boy was gone, too, Stark looked at Steve.

"What is this going to entail?"

"We want to find out what Sitwell and Rumlow said to him between the time they took out Coulson and the time when Natasha met them at the door."

"To make sure we get everything," Romanoff added. "And when we're done, you're going to go find something to do to amuse yourself and I'm going to spend the morning with him."

"Why?"

"Because Clint and I are leaving the country for a while, and I want to spend time with him before I go."

Peter and Sam returned while she was answering, with the boy carrying a glass of chocolate milk, and Wilson carrying a large plate of donuts and a cup of coffee that he set in front of Tony, who nodded his thanks.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked, scrambling back up into his chair after Tony took the glass from him so he wouldn't spill it.

"A few places," came the somewhat evasive reply. "Out of the country, though, so we'll be gone for a while."

He looked at Clint.

"You're going?"

Barton nodded.

"Who else would watch her back?"

"Oh." The boy nodded. "Good."