The snow was still coming down outside the window of Peter and Ned's room when he woke the next morning. He rolled just a little, realizing that he'd ended up sleeping on the injured hip and it was killing him. A quick look at Ned's bed showed it was empty. Clearly his friend was up and gone. A glance at his watch explained why, as it was fairly late in the morning. He groaned, softly, and pulled the blankets up around him a little tighter, debating whether to sleep a little longer, or get up and start his day. A day that didn't have too much included into his schedule, really, so there wasn't much of a hurry to get started.

Peter had stayed up late the night before. He and Tony hadn't really done anything exciting, but they'd found the Jenga game and had started a contest to see who could use all of the blocks and create the most interesting free-standing structure. The rule had been that it had to stay up, even in simulated earthquake conditions – which had simply been the other person hitting the counter the structure was standing on with a balled-up fist. In the interest of preserving their creations for posterity – especially since it wasn't, technically, their Jenga game – they had taken photos of each structure as it had been built and subsequently taken apart for the next contestant.

Tony had declared himself to be the winner, but when Peter said he was going to lodge a protest, they'd decided that they would show the others the photos and let them decide the winner. He smiled, thinking that it had been a fun way to finish the day. Peter had to admit that he really liked the times when he had Tony to himself like that. Even though he had to admit it was a little selfish.

Almost as if thinking about him had summoned him, there was a soft tap on the door and then Stark's head peeked in the door. The billionaire smiled when he saw Peter was awake and let himself in, walking over to the bed and carefully sitting on the edge of it as if trying not to jostle him.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"Monkey butt."

Peter frowned.

"What?"

Stark smiled and shrugged.

"Clint's daughter said that to me, once. I didn't get it, either. How do you feel?"

"I'm sore," Peter admitted. "Slept on the wrong side."

It was Tony's turn to frown. His hand went to Peter's forehead, first, and then pulled the blanket back, probably expecting blood to be gushing from Peter's side from the expression on his face. Without asking permission he carefully exposed the hip and then pulled the bandage back a little.

"It's not bleeding," he assured the boy, putting the bandage back and then gently pulling his sweats back over the bandage. "How much does it hurt?"

"I don't know. A little? Not as much as yesterday, though."

"We'll have Stephen check it out. Think you can make it down the stairs? Or do you want to stay in bed for a while longer?"

"You'll help me?"

"Of course I will."

"I can get up."

OOOOOOO

Strange was sitting on the sofa when Tony came down the staircase, Peter's arm draped over his shoulder and the boy wincing with every step – although he wasn't complaining. The room – and the cabin – was empty as far as Peter could tell. Only Natasha was with Strange on the sofa and there weren't any noises signifying anyone else inside. The doctor got up, abandoning Natasha's side and helped Stark get Peter down the last few stairs.

"Hurts?"

"Yeah."

The two men settled Peter into the spot beside Natasha, who set the Avenger book she had been reading aside, and touched his cheek.

"Good morning, baby."

"Hi, Natasha."

"You look terrible."

"My hip hurts."

"He slept on it," Stark told them both. "I looked, but it didn't seem to be bleeding. Check it, though, will you, Stephen?"

"Yes."

The doctor moved to sit on the coffee table and Peter rolled just a little to give him access to that side. The motion put him against Natasha and she took advantage of that and put her arms around him with a smile. He shook his head but didn't insist that she go elsewhere. It wasn't that much of his hip that was going to show – not like when Strange had cut his pants completely off – and as long as she didn't hum stripper music or something, he'd be okay.

Probably.

As if she understood and appreciated the concession that he was making, she was quiet as they both watched Tony hitch his sweats down a little on the injured side to allow Stephen to remove the bandage.

"It didn't open," Strange said, approvingly. "You might have aggravated it a little, sleeping on it. We'll rebandage it with some extra padding, just to give you some more protection from being jolted."

"Okay."

There was a slight tingle and everything that Strange needed was suddenly on the coffee table beside him.

"Where is everyone?" Peter asked, watching as the doctor opened a medicated bandage.

He tensed, knowing that it was going to hurt when Strange started working on the wound and felt Natasha's grip tighten on him just a little. She knew it was going to hurt, too.

"They're outside working on igloo 2.0," Tony said. "Although Elmer said he was going to go look for some wildlife to photograph."

"By himself?" Peter asked, wincing and grabbing at Natasha's hand when pain suddenly spread like a wildfire along his hip as Strange started dressing the wound

She gave a sympathetic sound as she took his hand, holding it firmly. Stark winced in shared pain, and answered Peter, hoping to distract him from how much it hurt to be treated.

"No. Steve and Bruce went with him. And I went Ironman to point them in the right direction of a herd of bison."

"I hope he gets some good pictures."

Stark scowled. He was torn between not liking Rupp because of what he did to Peter – especially at a time like this when it was so obvious that the boy was hurting because of it – and admiring the guy for being what was apparently a decent human being. He was also annoyed that Peter was so forgiving, even though there wasn't anything wrong with it, necessarily It just felt like the boy was being naïve or something. Not that he would have preferred Peter holding a grudge. That would have been incredibly far out of character for Peter and would probably have felt wrong.

Romanoff caught the scowl and it made her smile, because she understood completely. Peter didn't notice, being too distracted by what Stephen was doing to him. The spy caught Stark's gaze and he rolled his eyes, well aware that she almost certainly could read his expression and knew what had him so annoyed. He had to admit that he was surprised Romanoff didn't seem to be holding a grudge like he wanted to, but obviously it wasn't something that he could ask her about.

"I hope he does, too," Tony told him, blandly, turning his attention back to the wound just in time to see Stephen cover the injury with several thick bandages before taping it down and pulling Peter's sweats back up to cover the bandages.

"How does it feel?" Strange asked, reaching over to brush the boy's forehead.

"It's okay."

"One to ten?"

"Eight right now," Peter admitted. "It'll fade in a bit, though."

A glass of water and a couple of pills appeared on the coffee table and the doctor handed them to him.

"Take these."

"What are they?" Tony asked as Peter took the pills and swallowed them.

It wasn't a challenge – he trusted Stephen to take care of Peter. He just wanted to know if he was going to have to worry about side effects or anything.

"It's just a prescription strength version of Ibuprofen," Strange told him. "Something to take the edge off. We should get something in his stomach, though. Peter?"

"Yeah."

He could eat.

"Preference?"

"Oatmeal?"

Strange had no problem using magic to precipitate things – at least as long as those around him knew of his abilities. A moment later there was a tray with a bowl of oatmeal, including raisins and brown sugar. Stephen knew how the boy liked it.

"Eat," he ordered. "Then we'll find something to occupy ourselves while we wait for the painkillers to kick in."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

The boy applied himself to his meal, and Tony leaned back, sitting beside him with his hand on the back of the sofa behind Peter. Natasha stayed where she was as well, and Stark smiled, and tapped Peter's head.

"Maybe I should come up with a campaign for a group activity tonight… What do you think?"

"D&D campaign?" Peter asked, immediately interested.

"Yeah. Interested?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Stephen?"

The doctor smiled. What a good idea for a distraction.

"I didn't bring my things."

Not that that would stop him. He just needed to know how many sets of dice he needed to summon. Tony shrugged.

"I imagine Peter didn't, either. Or Ned."

"You'd be wrong," Peter corrected. "We both did."

"Seriously?"

The boy nodded.

"Of course."

Natasha grinned, and nudged him with her toe.

"Nerd."

Peter smiled.