"Did you call Shuri?"

MJ nodded.

"She didn't answer."

"You didn't call her in the middle of her night, did you? I wouldn't have answered, either."

"No. it was the middle of our night," she told him. "I did that on purpose. But she's probably busy."

She was a princess, after all, and they both knew she had a lot of official and unofficial responsibilities that came with the title.

"Peter emailed me last night and told me that she has a cold. Maybe she was still in bed, or something."

"How did he sound?"

"It was an email."

She rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean. Did he say anything that set off any alarms that he's hurt worse than he's letting on?"

"Said he was typing with his injured hand, so it can't be that bad." He'd also told Ned that his out of town visitors had had an issue with their transportation that night and things could have gotten pretty messy. Since there were a lot of visitors from out of town (and off planet) at the compound, Ned was only guessing that the transportation hint told him that it was the spaceship – although he wouldn't be able to confirm that until he was at the compound. "He told me that he's swimming and working with a rubber ball."

"That's what he wrote me, as well," MJ said, nodding. "Did he tell you about homeschooling?"

"Yeah. That's a relief. I was wondering what was going to happen."

"So was I. You're going to the compound, tonight?"

Ned nodded.

"Pepper's picking me up when she's done at the tower. I'll get a first hand look at him – and will swim with him when he does his physical therapy, so I'll let you know how he's really doing."

"Tell him I said hello, will you? And I'm sorry."

OOOOOOOO

There was a small group of people standing under the belly of the spaceship looking up at it in the bright light of the morning.

"It's under control?" Clint asked, without looking over at the others.

"Yeah," Rocket said, nodding. The racoon had climbed up into Groot's shoulder and was holding a diagnostic tool in his little furry hand, but he wasn't using it, just then. "We double-checked it all, this morning. It's probably good to go."

"Probably?" Tony echoed.

"It's good to go," Quill assured the billionaire. "We'll take her out for a test run – just to make sure everything is smooth, but she's sounder now than ever."

"Nothing like a vacation to give your crew and ship a chance to refresh," Gamora agreed.

Peter couldn't help the excited look he gave Quill.

"When are you going to do the test run?"

The man's eyes lit up with amusement at the boy's enthusiasm.

"We want to do it at night, to keep anyone from visually being able to track us. We can cloak her to keep radar from finding her."

"I don't know why you keep calling it cloaking," Rocket said, rolling his eyes. "It's not covering the ship with anything, is it? No. We're concealing her. Or hiding her."

"I know why," Clint told him.

"Me, too," Peter agreed. He looked at Tony, and then at Quill. "Can I go with you on your test run?"

"Your dad's good with it?" Quill asked, looking at Tony.

"If he gets to come, too," Tony replied.

He'd never been in a spaceship, either, after all.

"Sure." He turned to Peter. "And your friend who is coming to visit? What about him?"

"We'll wait and see on that one," Tony suggested.

"Ned's not much of a flyer," Clint warned the Guardians. "If he goes, take some barf bags."

"Barf bags?" Drax echoed, confused.

"Trust me…"

Peter nodded his agreement, but he was excited, and it showed. Ned would be, too, he knew. Who wouldn't want to fly on a spaceship? Of course, he had other things to do, first.

OOOOOOO

"Good afternoon. My name is Peter and I will be your server, today."

Natasha frowned.

"I thought the physical therapist said no helper duty until further notice…?"

"He did, but I can do it if I don't actually carry much. I can take orders for people and wipe tables."

Huh. The fact that he was still willing, even with a free pass from the specialist appealed to her.

"Hello, Peter," she said, now smiling. "What's for lunch?"

He didn't need to look. He'd been eating in the lounge for a long time, now, and the lunch menu didn't vary, often. Of course, Natasha knew that, too. She was just teasing him, and he liked that.

"Burgers – with, or without cheese – chilidogs, or chef salad. Your choice of dressing."

"I will have a couple of chilidogs," Clint said. He was having fun with Peter being a server, too – despite the fact that it was a punishment. "With cheese and onions."

"They'll make your breath stink worse than it already does," the boy warned, scribbling the choice onto his pad of paper.

"Are you picking a fight with me, Peter Pony?"

"I'm making a public service announcement."

Romanoff snorted.

"He isn't kissing anyone, Peter. Bring him extra onions. I'll have a burger, please?"

"With fries or onion rings?"

"Fries. I care about the people around me and don't want to stink."

Before Barton could reply – and he was definitely not going to let that comment go by unanswered – Steve and Carol appeared in the entrance to the lounge and headed their way. Both of them were looking a little tired, but considering they'd just returned from Wakanda, that wasn't too much of a surprise. Jet lag didn't always require a long flight, after all. That just usually exacerbated it.

Carol smiled at Peter, who pulled a chair out for her, and she sat down.

"Server?"

"Yup?" he glanced at his watch. "For another twenty minutes.'

"So you're better off waiting," Clint told them. "So you know your order will be correct – and not dropped on the floor as he's carrying it over."

"I haven't dropped anything all day."

"You dropped Nat's tea."

"I spilled it. That's different. The glass never hit the floor."

"Where's Stephen?" Natasha asked, amused.

"He said he had to go back to the sanctum, and that he'd come for dinner," Steve replied. "And D&D, tomorrow."

"I could get used to instant transportation like that," Carol said, clearly impressed by the sorcerer, who had portalled them both back to the compound, but since it was the end of the week, he hadn't stayed, well aware that Natasha was working and he'd just be a distraction. "That's pretty convenient."

"You get around pretty fast, though, even without it," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah. But not that fast."

"How was Sirah?"

Steve's expression was satisfied as he settled back into his chair.

"The place is a great fit for her. The kids were already swarming all over her, excitedly, and she looked relaxed for the first time."

"It was a good idea, Peter," Carol said, approvingly. "They'll educate her while she's helping to educate the children living there, and it won't be long before she'll be assimilated into their society. Not to mention she's pretty and exotic. She'll probably be beating the guys back with a stick once they manage to bring her out of her shell."

"Don't worry, though," Steve added, noticing the concern in Peter's expression. "They're very proper, there, and Ramonda has already assured us that she will be taking a personal interest in keeping her out of trouble."

"That's good."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Clint asked the boy, pointedly, raising an eyebrow and ready to change the subject so Peter didn't have a chance to worry about the alien girl.

She was going to be fine.

Peter rolled his eyes, and turned to Carol and Steve.

"Good afternoon. My name is Peter and I'll be your server, today…"