Someone shifted beside him, causing a stab of pain that woke him with a soft gasp.

"Shhh… I'm sorry…"

He opened his eyes and saw Pepper situated where Natasha had been when he'd fallen asleep. She reached out and ran her palm along his forehead, then cupped his cheek. The lights in the living room were off, but the fire was still going strong, giving him plenty of light to see by. And he could see that her expression was concerned, and apologetic, but also filled with love – which made the pain ease a little.

"Pepper…"

"Hi, sweetheart." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "We want to move you…"

He turned his head but was careful not to move the rest of his body, fearing the pain that he knew wasn't far behind any movement, even though at the moment all he felt was a dull ache that throbbed in time with his pulse. Tony was still beside him, an arm draped over the back of the couch but not quite touching him. There was a sleeping form bundled in blankets in one of the recliners and Peter assumed correctly that it was Mr. Rupp. There was a light coming from either the dining room or the kitchen, but he didn't know which, and wasn't interested enough to crane his neck to find out.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"We want to put you to bed," Tony murmured, and now he did move his hand to touch Peter's cheek, too. "It can't be comfortable for you to be where you are."

"I'm okay," Peter told them, feeling the throbbing in his hip and unwilling to let it get worse by moving any more than necessary. "Please don't…"

"We won't, then," Pepper assured him, as if she understood the cause of his reluctance.

He closed his eyes, relieved and still tired, and tilted almost drunkenly her direction – instinctively leaning away from the nagging pain. He felt her arms go around him and his head went to her shoulder.

"You don't have to stay," he mumbled, realizing that it wasn't comfortable for them to be upright, even if he preferred that position just then. "I'm okay…"

"Of course we do," Pepper said, smiling at the boy even though he couldn't see her, brushing her hand along his hair, trying to soothe him back to sleep. "Someone needs to be with you right now, and Jack can't be trusted not to pee on you."

He smiled, but was asleep almost immediately, still in the grasp of the painkiller Strange had given him. When he went limp against her, Pepper looked over at Tony, who was watching the scene quietly, but moved his fingers and brushed them against the back of her hand where it rested against Peter's hair.

"He's going to be fine," Stark assured her. "It's just painful right now."

"We're sure?"

"Yes. Stephen said the wound looks clean."

"Should we put him to bed? We could have Stephen do it. He probably wouldn't feel anything."

"Whatever you want to do, momma," Tony told her. "But remember, he'd have to be moved again in the morning – or he'd be stuck in the bed until it's time to leave and would miss out on things."

"He wouldn't like that."

Although she clearly wanted to put him to bed and keep him there for however long was needed to get him well.

"No. Probably not."

"We'll reassess in the morning," she decided.

Tony nodded and reached over, careful not to jar Peter's sore hip, and pulled a blanket up over her and the boy, even though the room was warm.

"I love you, Pepper Potts."

She smiled at that.

"I love you, too. What's your name, again?"

Stark rolled his eyes, amused and relieved that she was willing to tease him. She was concerned about Peter, but obviously not panicked. Which had been the whole point. He was sure Peter would agree.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please."

He carefully got up and went into the kitchen, where Strange was standing at the sink, leaning against the counter and talking softly with Natasha.

"Did I hear Peter?" Stephen asked.

"Yes. He's asleep, now, though." Stark's expression was chagrined. "I bumped him and it woke him."

"Do you want me to move him?"

"No. He doesn't want to be moved – probably because it hurts."

"Most likely. I'll check the wound in the morning and assess what – if anything – we're going to want to do. I'm fairly certain he's not going to be able to handle a 4-hour flight on the jump seat in the jet."

"We'll tell the kids we're keeping him back an extra day, and then have you take him to the compound the easy way – if you're alright with that."

"Of course."

"You might ask Ned if he wants to go that way, as well," Natasha suggested. "It would save us a lot of barf bags."

"Good point." Stark shrugged. "We'll figure out the logistics tomorrow. Don't forget to check MJ's ankle, too, okay?"

Strange rolled his eyes.

"I'm a brain surgeon. You understand that, right? Not a pediatrician…"

"You wanted to come," Tony reminded him, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a mug to pour some coffee from the pot that had been made fresh only half an hour ago..

"No. I wanted to go to Bermuda, or Jamaica."

"Where we would then have you dealing with shark bites, or sunburns."

Natasha chuckled, certain that that would probably be the case.

"Does he need anything tonight?" she asked.

Strange shook his head.

"Just someone to stay close by in case he falls off the couch or something."

"Pepper and I will stay with him."

"At least he won't sleepwalk," Natasha pointed out.

"True."

"I'm going to bed, Tony," Stephen told him, dumping the last of his coffee in the sink and rinsing the cup. "If he wakes and you need me, come get me."

OOOOOOO

It was a worrisome night for Pepper and Tony. Peter was restless; made that way because of pain and odd dreams and it seemed that every time he moved, it jarred his hip and brought him awake to some extent. Sometimes whoever was holding him at the time – usually Pepper, but occasionally Tony – would soothe him with a quiet word or a tender touch, and he'd drift back to sleep. Other times he would be awake for a few minutes, whimpering from the hurt until the pain medication overcame the injury once more and dragged him back into sleep.

He never became fevered, though, much to Tony's relief, and he didn't seem delirious, either, since he knew them whenever they spoke to him. Sometime toward dawn, he finally dropped into a deeper sleep and seemed to actually be getting some rest.

OOOOOO

When Peter fully woke it was morning. At least, gloomy daylight was coming in all the windows of the cabin and the fire in the fireplace had been allowed to die down to mere embers. He opened his eyes, holding still to avoid any movement that would hurt him.

He saw that Pepper was gone from the sofa and now it was Tony who was acting as a pillow for him on the right side. No one was to his left, but there was a fat, soft pillow tucked between his hip and the arm of the sofa. Stark was sitting right up beside his uninjured side and talking softly with MJ, who was sitting on the other side of the billionaire. She had her foot propped up on Strange's leg; the doctor sitting on the coffee table and checking it for range of motion and any lingering pain.

It was Strange who noticed that Peter was awake, since he hadn't moved his head from Stark's shoulder to look around, and the doctor gave him a tight smile.

"Good morning."

Peter brought a hand up to rub his face, sleepily.

"Hey."

Tony turned his attention to Peter as well, and he saw MJ move a little in order to look around Stark's body to see him, too.

"How do you feel?" Tony asked, a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair back.

"Sore."

"That's not surprising," Strange told him.

"How is your ankle?" he asked MJ.

"Seriously?" she asked. "You got shot, Peter."

He flushed, defensive even though he didn't know why. Of course, he didn't feel well, so that probably didn't help.

"I know. I know how I feel. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"She's fine," Strange said, letting MJ's foot go and allowing her to tuck it under herself, her chin resting on the other knee. "Although it wouldn't hurt to minimize what kind of activities you take on this morning."

"Maybe I'll just sit on the couch and keep Peter company."

Tony smiled, because Peter turned red, again.

"Is it still snowing?" He asked.

"Harder than ever. No snowshoeing for you, though."

He lifted his head, then, just a little, to look around.

"Where's Mr. Rupp?"

"He's outside with Steve and Clint, digging out a new play area for Jack."

"Is he okay?"

Strange nodded.

"He's fine, considering that he was out in the cold with very little shelter. I'm not sure he would have made it through the night, though - or at least, he probably wouldn't have been in any condition to find his way back to his cabin in the morning."

"How did you find him?" MJ asked, curiously. "He wasn't yelling for help or anything, right?"

Peter closed his eyes, because he knew he wasn't a good liar, and she would know by his expression if he didn't tell her the truth. MJ was very perceptive.

"I went Ironman looking for wolves or other dangers while we were walking last night and just happened to find him," Tony explained.

He, of course, was more than willing to lie - to pretty much anyone. There were very few exceptions.

MJ was impressed.

"You probably saved his life, then."

Stark smiled, moving his arm around Peter's shoulder and ruffling his hair, affectionately.

"That's what superheroes do."