"If you sleep all day I'm not going to get my ice cream…"
Peter smiled, even as he was waking up; the voice in his ear was sexy and playful, and he knew just how deadly she was. The fact that she was willing to be so familiar with him, when he knew she wasn't like that with many people, was one of the things that he loved most about his new reality.
"I'm not sleeping," he told Natasha, stretching as he rolled onto his back to look up at her. "Just resting my eyes."
Her hand came to his forehead.
"You're a little warm."
"I just woke up," he pointed out. "Sleeping people are warmer than awake people."
"How do you feel?"
She was watching him, intently, so he knew better than to lie – and besides, there wasn't anything to lie about, this time.
"I feel pretty good."
"And the hand?"
"Aches a bit, still. Not as bad as before. What time is it?"
"Dinner time."
"I slept all afternoon?"
"Yup. And there was a bit of a discussion before I was told to come wake you up. The argument being that if you were that sleepy, then you should be allowed to rest." She smirked, and got off his bed, using a grip on his left hand to pull him to his feet, too. "I was promised ice cream, though, and I really want a sundae. Especially a free one."
Peter smiled, shaking his head. He was well aware that she was teasing him, and he liked it. Again, not something she did with everyone – just those closest to her. Which included him.
"We probably have to eat dinner, first."
"I'm not sixteen and subject to mom and dad's rules…" Romanoff pointed out, scooping up Nutmeg, who had been lounging on Peter's bed with him.
He shrugged, stretching again, as they walked out of his bedroom and toward the door.
"But I am, and I'm buying the ice cream. Which means, vicariously, you are, too."
"Huh… I didn't think of that. Think Tony would roll his eyes if I called him dad?"
"Better than daddy," Peter told her, smirking.
She slapped his shoulder, snorting, indelicately, but amused at the reminder that even though he was a sweetheart, and had the face of an innocent angel, he was, in fact, a teenaged boy. Complete with all the crudeness that could come with it.
"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that," she replied, primly. "And you'd do well not to repeat it, mister."
The boy grinned.
"Sorry, not sorry…"
Natasha laughed. She was glad to see him so cheerful, and really, he was at his snarkiest when he was feeling good, so she decided that he was, really, feeling as good as he said he was.
"You're going to be sorry," she said, putting her arm around him as they walked down the corridor toward the lounge. "Especially if I don't get my ice cream."
"I'll buy you as much as you want."
He had a hundred dollars, after all.
OOOOOOO
Tony and Pepper were at their table when Peter walked in with Natasha. The assassin set Nutmeg on his cat tree out of the way – for now – and sat down with them.
"Where are the others?" Romanoff asked, curiously.
Clint, Steve and Carol had all been there when she'd gone to wake Peter, and Bruce had been finishing up a project and was also going to join them.
"They'll be back," Tony said, watching Peter as he walked over, just to get an idea of how he was feeling. He was pleased to see that he looked cheerful and well rested. Both of which were concerns that he and Pepper always had in the forefront of their thoughts. "How do you feel?"
Peter smiled.
"I'm good."
"And the hand?" Pepper asked, reaching out and brushing her palm against his forehead before Tony could do the same.
"It's sore. But not bad."
"You're a little warm."
"I'm okay. Really."
Now Tony did reach out to touch his face, as well, frowning.
"You are warm."
"I'm okay." He rolled his eyes, amused and touched by their concern. "Really. Natasha wants to forgo dinner and go get ice cream."
"Well, that isn't happening," Pepper said, looking at both of them like they were crazy to even suggest such a thing. "You have to have dinner, first."
"So do you," Tony told Natasha. He didn't know why Peter suddenly snickered, and had to dodge a swipe from the assassin – and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know. "We'll eat, and then we'll go get ice cream, and then you can come see the progress I've made on manufacturing the front end."
"Did the lights come in?"
"Nope. And they were supposed to, so if they don't show up by the time you and mom get home, tomorrow, someone is going to get a phone call. I want to be ready to start assembling pieces by this weekend, and the lights have to go one before the grill."
"We don't have a grill."
"Because we haven't gone to get it," Romanoff said. "Clint and I will fetch it, tomorrow."
"In the city?"
"In Detroit."
"Michigan?"
"Yup." She smiled. "But before you turn on those beautiful brown eyes of yours and ask if you can come with us, I'll remind you that tomorrow is a school day, and you're already getting behind. We'll take you to Detroit another time, when you can sightsee."
"Oh." There was a flash of chagrin, but he nodded. "Yeah. No. I understand. Thanks."
"You're welcome." She turned to Pepper and Tony. "Do we call Stephen to have him check out the fever?"
Tony hesitated, looking at Pepper and then at Peter.
"You really feel alright? I mean, I get the pain in the hand, but anything else hurt? Head? Belly? Anything?"
"No. I really do feel okay. It's probably the stones from earlier. I was close to them, right? And maybe it was some kind of magic that brought May and mom and dad, or something."
"You're sure?" Pepper asked, just to make sure.
"Yeah. You can check me tonight, before I go to bed." They would anyway. "If it's still up, maybe we'll ask if Stephen isn't busy and would mind coming to see if it's something else – although one of the others could take my blood pressure just as easily, and then we wouldn't have to bug him."
"And listen to him be all silently judgey because we let a different doctor near you?" Tony asked. "Not a chance. But, yes; we'll see how you feel before bed, and go from there."
"I feel fine," Peter reminded him, smiling a greeting to the server, who brought him a cola without needing to ask if that was what he wanted.
Stark rolled his eyes, but was willing to take him at his word – as long as he wasn't going to be annoyed when he checked his temperature before bed. He might even use a real thermometer, or something. He was pretty sure they had one somewhere. Which was probably a bit more exact than the hand on the forehead thing.
"Okay, then." He turned at a motion at the entrance and saw the others coming into the lounge. "Let's eat. I want a peanut buster parfait."
Peter smiled; he wanted one, too.
"You're not going to discuss the power stone with them?"
"Not yet," he replied. "I'm going to think about it, first. Then I'll ask Tony, and see what he thinks before we go any further. I don't like the idea of putting anyone else at risk. There'd have to be someplace secure – and deep."
He was already mulling it over, but the distraction of ice cream was making it tougher – especially since the little guy inside him was chiming in about how much he liked ice cream, too.
The rest could wait for another time.
OOOOOOOOO
A/N : So my puppy was neutered, today, and it remains to be seen if the aftermath will cause any distraction or delay in my writing. He's so miserable right now, poor baby. You guys stay safe, and try not to go stir crazy!