A shift on the mattress was the only warning that she had, right before a very soft – and familiar – voice whispered in her ear.

"Hey, birthday girl… are you going to sleep the day away?"

Pepper opened her eyes and found four sets of eyes watching her, intently. Tony's brown eyes were closest, as he was the one who was leaned over her, pulling back enough to kiss her cheek and then sitting back on the edge of the bed. Ironpig was watching her, too, from his position at the foot of the bed where someone had deposited him. The piglet was wearing a birthday hat and a bowtie around his neck – as well as yet another sweater (this one green). Beside him was a somewhat disgruntled looking Nutmeg, who was also wearing a birthday hat. His was somewhat askew and had teeth marks in it. He, too, had a bowtie around his neck, silently attesting to the special occasion – although she was sure he wasn't very happy about it.

She smiled at the sight, and sat up, a little when Peter came into view, as well.

He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt – which was smeared with more than one unknown substance – and holding a tray carefully in his hands. Before she could worry about him using the injured hand he settled the tray across her lap.

"Happy birthday."

"What's this?" she asked, looking down at the offering.

There was a plate with a tortilla wrapped around something; she couldn't see what, a few slightly singed sausages, toast – Battlestar Galactica toast, she realized, amused – and a glass of orange juice. There was also a single red rose in a crystal vase.

"We made you breakfast in bed," Peter told her, looking pleased at her surprise.

"That's nice," she said – and Tony smirked, because she was able to actually sound like she meant it. She looked at him. "You helped?"

Which didn't mean much, she knew; the two of them were famous for having burned down a cooking school, after all.

"I did," he confirmed. "Manny wasn't at all pleased when we shooed him away from the kitchen in the lounge this morning so that we could say we did it, ourselves, but it turned out alright – for a couple of amateurs."

"What's in the burrito?"

"Eggs and cheese," Peter told her. "They were going to be sunny side up, but they stuck to the pan."

"Five times in a row," Tony added. "So, we decided scrambled would be fine."

"And the tortilla…?"

"Oh." He shrugged. "Peter said everything's better in a tortilla. So we added shredded cheese, and some ham."

"That's it?" she asked, looking down at it, suspiciously.

Which made him smile, because they both remembered Peter's attempt at breakfast in bed for them when they were closing out their honeymoon in Wakanda.

"That's it," he assured her. "It's good."

"We had some," Peter added. "Tony made the juice."

"From a bottle?"

"From oranges," the billionaire said, amused. "I murdered them, skinned them and then crushed their little bodies and ground them until their juices flowed into your glass."

"That's gross, Tony."

Stark chuckled.

"Eat."

She frowned, looking at the display on their TV.

"It's after eight o'clock. You let me sleep in?"

"It's your birthday."

As if that explained everything.

"I have to get to the tower."

"I called in for you," he told her, as Peter sat down on the edge of the bed, too – only on the other side. "I told them that you couldn't come in today because the revolution of the earth around the sun had deemed that you are a year older, now, and as such you are obligated to spend the day with your husband and son."

"I have a conference call with France. They aren't going to care that it's my birthday."

"It's a conference call," he pointed out. "You can do that from here. Spend the day with us, Pep."

"Please?" Peter asked, allowing his eyes to get wider, and younger, and absolutely adorable.

She shook her head; he had to know what he was doing, this time. The amusement in his expression plainly said that he did, anyway.

"Fine. As long as we're not flying away, somewhere exotic."

"Nope. Only the compound," her husband assured her, reaching for Nutmeg, who had apparently smelled the meat on her plate and was suddenly very interested in her tray. The kitten mewed in protest when he was denied a chance to steal a sausage, and Peter took him from Tony's grasp. "We have a few things planned."

"Like what?" she asked, looking a little suspicious.

"Just birthday related things," he told her, innocently. "When is your call?"

"Just before noon."

"We can work around that." He leaned down, reaching for something on the floor, and came up with a paper hat. Pepper recognized it, immediately, as a crown from Burger King. Which was the only chance she had to look at it, because he put it on her head. "You are now, officially, Queen for the Day," he announced, formally, bowing with a flourish of his hand. "Your Majesty."

Pepper smiled.

Leave it to him to make a piece of paper that pretty much every kid in America had access to into something so romantic.

Peter bowed, too, and the hat Nutmeg was wearing fell off.

"Speaking of royalty," Peppers said, ignoring her tray for the moment. "How was your night? Did you spend some time with Shuri?"

He nodded.

"A lot. It was good."

"What did you do?"

"Had wild, passionate loving under the stars out in the woods."

Tony snorted, and Pepper rolled her eyes. He was so serious most of the time that it was almost a shock when he said something like that, out of the blue. He knew it, too, because his expressive eyes were lit up with happiness at her reaction.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," she replied.

Peter shook his head, still smirking.

"We sat in the gym and talked."

"She has a pretty good suggestion for our problem with Sirah," Tony added. "We were talking about it while I was ignoring the screams of the oranges."

"Oh?"

"Shuri offered to invite Sirah back to Wakanda with her," Peter explained. "She could get a job in that orphanage, or as a servant in the palace. They're paid pretty good."

"Pretty well," Pepper corrected, absently. She looked at Tony. "What do you think?"

"I think Steve would approve of her being someplace other than back with the Collector guy, and Wakanda is a good place for a displaced alien girl. It's well protected, isolationist, and honestly it wouldn't matter if they know she's an alien – because they're a bit more aware of such things than the rest of the world, in general. It's a good fit."

"As long as she's interested," Pepper added. "We don't own her, either."

"I'll ask her what she thinks of the idea," Peter told her. "She likes kids, though, and she's always asking if we have something she can do."

"Might be a good fit," Tony said, shrugging. Then he gestured to her breakfast. "Your food's getting cold," he pointed out. "I can assure you it isn't going to taste better the longer it sits."

"Right."

Greatly daring, as befitted the wife of Ironman and the mother of Spiderman, Pepper reached for her fork.