Awww.

Natasha frowned, allowing Peter to see her distress at that particular idea. Not because she was surprised; MJ was a nice young woman, and seemingly a good fit for Peter since they went to the same school, were on the academic decathlon team and she was actually smart enough to keep up with Peter (which was important in a relationship with someone intelligent) but she didn't like worrying about the boy, and didn't like seeing him in situations that he might get hurt. Especially the Spiderman thing. Romanoff knew MJ would prefer that Peter was a normal kid (as normal as the son of a billionaire who hung out with avengers could be) and definitely didn't like him being a superhero – even a neophyte one.

And that was impossible with Peter. Being Spiderman was too much a part of him.

"Are you sure?"

"No," he admitted, looking somewhat defeated. "But it sounded like it. I think." He'd never been dumped, before, after all. "She said she's tired of not knowing what I'm not telling her…"

Natasha walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Did she ask you what happened?"

"No. She asked if I was hurt, because Ned told her that I was – and then when I told her that I was, she wanted to know why I'm the only person on the planet that the light didn't heal."

Again, proof that MJ was intelligent, because she'd picked up on Peter being injured when no one else was.

"And you obviously couldn't tell her the truth about that."

"No. I know." He sighed. "I was trying to keep her from worrying, but she got that look that she gets and then she said that she had to go."

"I'm sorry, baby…" Romanoff told him, brushing his bangs back. "Maybe she just needs some time to get over the worry."

He shrugged, one-shouldered.

"She didn't sound worried. She sounded mad. And done."

Before Natasha could reply – or think of anything to say to reassure him – there was a light tap on the door frame and Strange walked in, looking at the two on the bed. He seemed to realize that something was going on, almost immediately, because instead of telling them good morning, he simply walked over to the side of the bed (the same side as Natasha) and looked down at his patient.

"Everything alright?"

"Peter had a call from MJ," she told him. "It's complicated."

The doctor motioned for her to move so he could check the boy out.

"Women are complicated, in general," he assured the boy. "Teenaged girls are even more so. Tony tells me you didn't sleep very well last night?"

"I had a lot of dreams."

"How much pain?"

"Some…" he said, evasively.

"One to ten? And be honest, or I'm going to send you back to the medlab."

Stephen wasn't above being brisk with Peter (or anyone else) when it was necessary, after all. He was good at it.

"Seven."

"The nano-things don't help with the pain?" Natasha asked the doctor, taking Peter's good hand and ignoring the way both of them rolled their eyes at the nanotech being called things.

"No. For that matter, they could be increasing it. They're rebuilding nerves as well as healing the flesh, after all. Impressive technology, but not perfect, yet."

"It mostly just aches," Peter told him. "It's not like a sharp, stabbing, pain."

"Well, I'd prefer you get as much rest as possible, and that means you aren't hurting too much to sleep. You look tired."

"I feel tired."

"Let's get you on your feet and fed, then we'll see if a local can ease the ache enough to allow you some real sleep."

He didn't mention that when he'd seen Tony, Stark had looked tired, too – and had promptly been sent off to bed.

"I don't really feel like getting up," Peter told him, and his tone was more depressed than anything, if Strange was any judge of such things. "Maybe later…?"

"You have to eat," Natasha said.

"I know. In here, though. Please?"

Strange hesitated, and then shrugged his acceptance. He wasn't a fan of being told no, really, but he'd let it go this time. He wasn't sure what he had missed, but Peter didn't look happy, and if it had something to do with the phone call from MJ, then he probably needed a little gentle handling and some latitude. Another reason the sorcerer was grateful that he wasn't sixteen, again. Dating a superspy assassin was tricky. Relationships with a teenaged girl simply ridiculously complicated, as he'd said.

"Sure. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Anything."

"Peter…"

Natasha wasn't going to make Stephen guess.

"Oatmeal."

"Sounds good." And it would be easy enough to eat with one hand. A tray appeared on the bed, beside Natasha. Oatmeal just the way Peter liked it best, a glass of juice and a plate with sausages. "Eat that. I want to talk to my nurse for a moment about expectations for today."

The boy sat up and the cloak moved away from him, not wanting to risk being splattered by any awkward one-handed eating. As Peter reached for the spoon, Natasha got to her feet with an encouraging smile.

"We'll be right back, okay?"

"Yeah."

He knew she was going to tell Stephen what had happened, but he didn't care. It didn't matter if everyone knew, and he supposed it would save him the trouble of trying to explain something that he didn't understand, himself.

OOOOOOO

"Anything I need to know?" Strange asked as the two walked into the hallway and closed the brand-new door behind them.

"He thinks MJ broke up with him."

"Did she?"

"I wasn't listening to the conversation," she admitted. Now she wished that she had. Not to be nosy, but to know how best to comfort Peter. "It might just be him over thinking things."

"Well, we'll want to keep an eye on him." Not that that was really an issue; Peter was at the foremost of the avenger's thoughts most of the time – and not just Pepper and Tony. He had a dozen aunts and uncles who always seemed aware of where he was and what he was doing. Strange knew that he and Wong were part of that group, too. "The timing really couldn't be worse. A little teen-aged angst is fine, unless you're already reeling from a crippling injury and who-knows-what mental strain this whole thing has put him through. I don't want him having any chance of falling into depression."

Natasha nodded.

"I'm going to spend the morning with him. Maybe I'll have Bruce stop by. He can show Peter his new trick."

"Oh?"

She smiled, looking surprised.

"You didn't hear?"

"No. What is it?"

"Oh, no, honey. I'm not going to spoil the surprise. You can come by and see it for yourself."

The sorcerer rolled his eyes; he didn't like surprises any more than she did – and she knew it. Which was why she was smirking, now. But he let her have her fun at his expense. She was adorable when she was gloating.

"I'm going to keep the bandages that he has on, now, in place for a few days to allow the nanites to work uninterrupted. Then we'll have Doctor Thompson take a look at the hand to see how it's progressing. If it looks good, we'll call in a specialist to decide what the next step is for the hand – as far as therapy."

"You'll tell Tony and Pepper?"

"When they wake up, yes."

"I'll stay with him and keep him company while he eats. Is he cleared to get out of bed, then?"

"If you can get him to, I'd prefer it. The sun's shining, why don't you find a couple of lounge chairs and sit by the edge of the field for a while? Get some fresh air."

She smiled. That was a great idea, really. And if Peter was willing, they only really needed one chair.

OOOO

Getting him out of bed was the first start. And the biggest challenge, Natasha found.

When Peter was finished eating, he vanished into the bathroom, awkwardly trying to handle taking care of everything one-handed. He definitely wasn't going to ask Natasha for help, and Stephen had gone to take care of a few things, taking the cloak with him – which meant that he was leaving the compound.

Then he'd gone back to his bed and pulled the blankets up over his head, completely, clearly planning to spend the rest of his day right where he was. When Natasha sat on the edge of his bed, and suggested they go for a walk, he'd mentioned – without uncovering his head – that he was tired.

Romanoff hadn't been deterred. He could be stubborn, she knew, but she was pretty stubborn, too – and neither of them could say no to the other and mean it. At the moment, she was more than willing to use that connection that they had. Especially since it was for his own good.

"Please, baby?" she said, softly, resting her hand on the blanket – somewhere around his shoulder. "I want your company."

She didn't hear the sigh, but she felt his shoulder raise and lower, and a moment later he pulled the blanket off and eased himself upright.

"Not for long, though?"

"We'll go outside," she told him, smiling gently. "And get some sun."

He nodded his willingness – reluctant though it was – and she helped him get his shoes on, since there was no way he was going to be able to tie them with only one hand. Then the two of them walked slowly toward the exit that led to the field. By the time they went through the door, Peter was ready to sit down, and there was a lounge chair conveniently set up right on the edge of the grass, with a pile of blankets, even though the day was nice and there was only the slightest breeze.

It didn't take a genius to figure the thing was a set up, and Peter wasn't stupid. Luckily, he was also more than willing to spend the day with Natasha, since he knew Pepper and Tony were safe and getting much-needed rest.

"You're sneaky…" he told her, sitting down on the edge of the lounger.

She shrugged and gave him her best innocent expression, her eyes twinkling with amusement that she didn't bother to hide.

"Me?"

The assassin settled in the chaise lounge, and then helped ease Peter down beside her. He turned onto his left side a little, tucking his sling between them to protect his hand which she pulled the blankets over them.

"Hurts?" she asked, pressing a kiss against his temple.

"No. I'm okay."

He was, too. Girl troubles forgotten for the moment, replaced by Natasha's protective embrace, Peter closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. Natasha took a little longer, and just as she drifted off, she felt the cloak adding its heavy warmth to the blankets as it joined them, as well. Stephen had returned to the compound, clearly. She stayed awake a moment, to see if he would make an appearance, but when he didn't, she allowed herself to go to sleep, too.

Peter was a good cuddler, after all, and she would never pass up the chance to spend time with him. Eventually there would come a time when he wouldn't be so willing, and she had to take advantage of those times while she could.