"Peter…?"

He opened his eyes and saw that Tony was crouched down next to the sofa on eye level with him. Which meant that the leg his cheek was resting on had to belong to Strange – unless someone else had joined them in the cabin while he'd been sleeping. Stark smiled, his hand reaching out to touch his forehead and then his cheek.

"Hey…"

"Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Sleepy."

"Warm?"

He hesitated, taking stock, but then shook his head as well as he could without raising it up.

"No. I think I'm okay."

A hand that wasn't Tony's touched his forehead, as well.

"I agree," came Dr. Strange's voice from somewhere above him. "The fever's down, at any rate. Without moving, we're not going to know how your hip feels."

"It doesn't hurt too much," he said, uncertain if he really wanted to challenge the pain to return by wiggling around too much.

Stark looked up.

"Do we feed him, Stephen? Or let him sleep."

"I'm hungry," Peter told them.

There was a chuckle and the hand on his forehead moved to his shoulder, patting him, carefully.

"Try sitting up, then, Peter," Strange suggested. "I don't want to feed you while you're laying on your side."

"More like you don't want him drooling on your leg," Tony corrected, a gleam of good humor in his eyes.

"Exactly."

Gentle hands – Tony's and Strange's – helped support him while he sat up, with the blanket that had been covering him falling to the sofa beside him, cushioning his injured hip. He looked around and saw that the sofa was bundled with blankets and pillows, showing every sign that he wasn't the only one who had slept on the sofa the night before. Stark got up and sat on the coffee table, watching him, intently, clearly looking for pain in his expression.

"I'm okay," he told him. "Did you guys sleep out here?"

"Yeah." Tony shrugged. "The bedroom is lonely without Pepper in it."

Strange snorted, amused.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Don't say French toast," Tony warned him. "I will throw you in a snowbank, again."

Peter smiled at that – but this time he almost believed him.

"Oatmeal."

Stark scowled at the choice, clearly wondering how anyone could make a meal of grain, but Stephen smirked.

"Would you like apples and cinnamon in it?"

Which made Peter smile, too, since the doctor knew he preferred brown sugar and raisins, but was obviously goading Tony.

"Raisins."

"Spoilsport."

A tray with a large bowl of oatmeal, accompanied by a glass of orange juice and a plate of sausages appeared on the coffee table, and a moment later a much heavier meal of bacon, eggs and toast with hash browns appeared for Stark and Strange. They already had coffee.

As Peter started eating, Tony buttered a piece of toast.

"We're going to stick around here the rest of the day," he told Peter. "Mainly to give Pepper time to get MJ back home, but also just in case Colonel Gradymatson decides to send someone back to check on us. That way he doesn't think that we were abducted by aliens if they don't find anyone here."

"Okay."

"Your job today is to rest and recover so you don't look terrible when Pepper sees you. We don't want her worrying for nothing, right?"

"Yeah."

"Your fever is pretty well handled," Strange told him. "If you can, it wouldn't hurt to sleep or read – anything that doesn't require any pressure on your injured side and helps keep you still."

"What are you going to do?"

"As little as possible."

"Which is what I have planned, too," Tony assured him. "This was a good trip, but I need a break before going home. I was thinking I'd just keep you company – if you're interested?"

"Yes. Of course."

OOOOOOOO

The day wasn't completely without incident.

Peter was dozing on the sofa a few hours after breakfast. He wasn't worn out, but sleeping was a good escape from the constant throbbing in his hip, and having Tony close at hand was comforting enough that the man's solid presence was all it really took to let him relax. With him asleep and clearly not requiring much more than just company, Tony and Strange were playing Cribbage. Strange was sitting on the coffee table and Tony was on the sofa, the game on a card table between them and Peter curled up just within reach if Stark put his hand out – which he did on occasion, just to brush his palm against the boy's forehead or shoulder, reminding him that he was glad he was with him.

A strong tingle that signified both magical use and also a warning from his spider senses roused him from his nap and he sat up, startled, looking around.

"What?" Tony asked, looking over at him.

The boy didn't look alarmed, but he was alert.

"Wanda's-"

There was a knock on the front door, interrupting him, and they all looked over when the door opened, revealing Wanda Maximoff at the entrance.

"-coming…"

Tony smiled, and he and Strange both stood up as the woman walked over to the sofa.

"Wanda," Tony said, obviously surprised by the visit, but always glad to see her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Tony," she replied. "Thank you." She looked over at Peter. "Happy birthday."

The boy smiled.

"Thank you."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not here just for that, Ms. Maximoff?" Strange said, also greeting her.

"Because I'm here to talk to you two, as well."

"Not me?" Peter asked.

"About you," she told him with a gentle smile. "But to them."

"What's going on?" Tony asked, waving her to a seat on the sofa.

She sat down next to Peter, who noticed that he could feel a very faint tingle from her – almost like the feeling he got when the cloak was near him. It was a magical signature. He knew that she wasn't like the cloak – she wasn't a magical relic, of course – but she was somehow imbued with magic in a way that Strange wasn't and Peter could feel it.

"Your hip is bothering you?" she asked Peter.

"A little," he admitted. "It's not too bad." He hesitated. "Did I do something wrong?"

She smiled.

"No. They didn't, either. I'm just here because the Mind stone is restless, and Vision wants to make certain there isn't anything that needs to be addressed. Since he couldn't come here, I offered to. The threat of a conflict between Tony and Stephen could be ruinous. Not only for the distress it would cause Peter –" she smiled at the boy, because she knew immediately that he was worried that he was the reason she was there and was causing trouble for everyone – "But the Earth would be much better off if two of her greatest champions were not going at each other instead of potential threats."

"This is about last night?" Tony asked.

"Apparently."

"There's no issue, Wanda. Stephen and I were having a discussion about the differences between magic and technology. We might have become a bit edgy about it, but we sorted it out on our own."

Mostly.

"The Mind stone is interceding?" Strange asked, fascinated.

And maybe a little annoyed at having an infinity stone acting like a busybody.

"Vision described it as grumbling uncertainly in his mind. It's… uncomfortable for him when the thing is focusing on Peter, because then it distracts him."

"That's saying something when it comes to Vision," Stark mused.

She smiled.

"Yes."

"Tell him to tell it that we're good," Tony assured her. "We might be a little competitive but we know what's important."

The look he gave Peter made the boy flush with pleasure because he was sure that Tony meant him, and it made him feel good. And wanted. And very much loved. That made Wanda smile, as well, because while Peter suspected it, she knew that it was true. Even more, she knew Stephen Strange felt the same way. She was reassured that she could go back to Vision and assure him that there was no concern of strife between the two powerful men.

"I appreciate that, thank you."

"You're welcome. We were discussing lunch. Care to join us?"

"That would be nice. What are you having?"

Stark gestured at Strange and wiggled his gingers.

"Whatever you want."

Stephen just rolled his eyes and gave a sigh of long suffering that made Peter smile.