After dinner they played Scrabble. It was interesting enough to engage Peter, and easy enough that he barely had to move at all to pull the tiles from the bag and put them on his holder and then on the board. Pepper asked him what he had done that day, and he tried hard not to sound peevish when he described the various ways he had learned that he could bounce a rubber ball off the wall and that he now knew the details of his bedroom walls fairly well. He changed the subject to her day as soon as he could, knowing that there was no way he could put a good spin on how he was feeling about being stuck in his bed.

Peter decided that Pepper looked a little worn out and weary. He watched her as they played, and while she didn't complain or anything, she did yawn a few times – although she'd try to hide it. He decided that between working, driving to and from the tower and having taken care of all the planning and logistics for the trip to Montana, she was probably pretty tired, and it wasn't fair to her that she was spending the time she could be relaxing keeping him occupied. He was old enough to find something to do without keeping her – and Tony – at his side constantly.

Even if he did enjoy their company. Together and separately.

When they finished the Scrabble game, Peter mentioned that he was a little tired and might just go to sleep, rather than play another game – if they didn't mind. Tony frowned, reaching out a hand to brush against his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just don't want to play anymore."

"You won," Tony pointed out.

He smiled.

"I know. I think I'll try to get some sleep."

"We don't mind keeping you company," Pepper assured him.

"Yeah. No. I know." He shrugged. "It wouldn't be interesting. Just watching me sleep, I mean. And I probably snore."

Stark looked over at Pepper, who smiled, and Peter realized that she knew what he was trying to do. She nodded and started picking up the pieces to the game, putting the tiles into their bag.

"You know how to reach us if you need anything…"

"Yeah."

"We'll come have breakfast with you," Tony told him.

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Do you need anything before we go?"

"No. I'm good." He reached for her hand, though, and she pulled him into a hug, cloak and all, and held him for a long moment, her cheek pressed against his.

"I love you, Peter Parker," she whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry you're stuck in bed. It'll get better, I promise."

He flushed, feeling a lump forming in his throat, and he found that he couldn't answer her to tell her that he loved her, too, and it wasn't terrible at all and didn't need to get better. Luckily, she seemed to understand that his silence wasn't disagreement, and she turned her head and kissed his cheek before letting him go with a tender smile and sliding off the bed. Tony followed suit, his expression content and his own hug for Peter an affectionate one.

"We'll see you in the morning."

"Okay. Goodnight."

They left, and Peter sighed. As if it understood he was ready to be prone again, the cloak lowered him back to the bed and draped itself over him rather than be wrapped around him with fabric tucked underneath. He picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV. They had over a thousand channels streaming into the compound, if he couldn't find something to watch it was his own fault.

OOOOOOO

"Poor guy."

"He's going to be fine."

"I know. But he isn't right now, and it breaks my heart. You know he didn't really want to be alone…"

"I know." Tony could be shallow, sometimes – a lot of the time – really, but he was getting good at reading Peter. "He probably thinks we need a break from him."

"I don't."

"I don't, either. It won't kill him to be in bed for a few more days. It's not like he doesn't have plenty to keep him occupied – even if it feels like he's in prison."

"And if he sleepwalks because he wants to be somewhere else?"

"He's too sore to sleepwalk right now." She didn't look convinced, but he didn't give her a chance to argue about it. He put an arm around her and steered her toward their quarters. "You look tired."

"I am. It was a long day."

And an even longer week.

"Why don't you take a hot bath, and then I'll give you a massage before bed?"

"What if Peter needs something?"

"That's already taken care of, Pepper."

OOOOOOO

The cloak and his spider senses gave him warning at the same time. Peter looked over to the door just as Doctor Strange and Natasha appeared in the doorway. She was wearing lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy warm socks, clearly done for the day. Strange was dressed casually – for him – in slacks and a polo shirt.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to brush against his temple, since he was on his side.

"Watching TV. You?"

"Stephen has come to claim his cloak, so he can go home. I've come to see if you'll keep me company, since he's leaving."

"I'm not very good company right now," he admitted, as the cloak lifted itself from his bed and attached itself to its usual position on the doctor's collar.

Romanoff smiled.

"I disagree."

"Is your hip bothering you, Peter?" Strange asked.

"No. I'm okay. Really."

"Do you need anything?"

Peter shook his head.

"Thanks. Really. For everything."

He was definitely aware that he took a lot of Doctor Strange's time taking care of him, and he did appreciate it. Or at least he would, once he was out of bed and back on his feet.

"You're ridiculously easy to take care of," Strange told him with a casual shrug. "Besides, with you being hurt, it gives me an excuse to come see Natasha – so I should be thanking you."

The boy smiled at that.

"You don't really need an excuse," he pointed out.

"It makes it easier for me." He winked at the boy and gave Romanoff a smile. "I'll be by tomorrow sometime to check on you."

Then he vanished, taking the cloak with him.

"Was he talking to you, or to me?" Natasha asked with a smile.

"You're over the allergy thing, right?" Peter asked, reaching out and putting his hand close to hers. He was over his, and while there had been different symptoms, they had still been similar. So she was probably feeling okay. She certainly looked fine. "He was probably talking to me."

Romanoff rested her hand on his.

"So? Are you going to keep me company? Or send me packing?"

He shook his head and shifted sideways to give her space on his bed, and pulled his blankets back to offer her a place to lie down.

"How long can you stay?"

She settled in beside him, pulling his blankets back over the two of them.

"Depends on what you're watching on TV."

Peter smiled, and handed her the remote.