Tony looked up when they entered Peter's bedroom. Stark had settled himself next to the boy's uninjured side and was reading something on his tablet while Peter slept. He was on his side, tucked against Tony, with his face pressed lightly against the billionaire's shirt. The hand that wasn't holding the tablet was resting on Peter's shoulder and the boy had a hand draped across Tony's stomach. Covering Peter – and overlapping a little to cover a small portion of Tony's leg, the Cloak of Levitation looked like an ugly blanket at the moment. Occasionally a piece of the heavy fabric would move, caressing Peter's ear, or cheek, or simply readjusting itself to be more comfortable for its charge.

"I figured you were here," Stark said by way of greeting as he set the tablet aside. "You need to put a bell on your cloak."

"Why do you say that?" Strange asked, curiously, walking over to the bed.

"It about scared the liver out of me when it came around the corner and zoomed in here like it owned the place."

Strange smirked.

"You can try to teach it to knock, I suppose."

Natasha smiled, and Stark tossed her an exasperated look.

"Did you get some breakfast?"

"Yes, dad."

"Don't sass me, young lady. I'll turn you over my knee."

Now it was Romanoff who smirked, amused at the threat – which was a good indicator of Stark's emotional state just then. Clearly, he was in a good mood, despite the fact that he was facing another day of keeping a bored Peter occupied and in bed. Or maybe because of it. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I dare you."

Stark smiled, and shrugged.

"Pepper probably wouldn't approve."

"Neither would Stephen," she pointed out.

He turned to Strange, changing the subject, even though he did love to flirt – and he'd known Romanoff so long that she was comfortable enough to give as much as she got. Obviously.

"Do you want us to wake him?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yes. He looks comfortable. But I want to check his hip and I want him to eat. He can always go back to sleep if he's still tired once I'm done and he's fed."

"He won't."

Tony didn't seem upset by that possibility, though. He knew Peter was bored in bed – and yes, he was a bit surly about the whole thing – but Stark didn't mind. He figured it was part of the better or worse thing that came with adopting Peter, and time well spent despite the moodiness. He reached down and brushed his palm against Peter's cheek, using his forefinger to tap him, gently. The cloak was a bit more direct. It normally would have brushed Stark's hand away if it wanted to keep Peter asleep, but instead, this time it rubbed a corner of itself against Peter's ear, tapping less gently than Tony was.

Peter opened his eyes, sleepily, and looked up at Stark, first, and then at the others.

"Did I sleepwalk?" he asked, proving to them what his main concern was – and always was, really.

Tony shook his head.

"No. Stephen wants to check your hip and see if you're ready for salsa lessons. Then we're going to feed you."

"Okay."

"Sit up, Peter," Strange told him, waving the cloak to the side as the boy did what he was told, wincing and borrowing a little support with a hand on Stark's knee to get upright.

Then Peter looked over at Natasha, pointedly, and the assassin rolled her eyes. The boy had just spent the night cuddled practically skin to skin with her, his head inches from places very few were allowed near, and his hand almost intimately familiar with her thigh and belly. But he was embarrassed to show a little bit of his hip? It was just crazy enough to be something a teen-aged boy would come up with.

"I won't look," she promised, walking over to the other side of the bed and sitting down – turning her head pointedly toward his dresser.

Strange smiled, too, and he exposed enough hip to check the wound carefully before he rebandage it, working with his usual efficiency.

"You can look, now, Natasha," he told her as the cloak settled itself back on Peter's shoulder for now.

"How's he doing?"

"It looks good."

"I can get up?" Peter asked.

"No. But I will allow you to sit up – in bed. If it looks as good tomorrow morning with no indication that you're overdoing it, I'll even let you go as far as the sofa."

Peter made a sarcastic noise, but he was too good natured to be very sincere about it. Besides, he wasn't going to be stuck on his back, or his side or his belly all day, and that was a win – of sorts.

"Ready for breakfast?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Preference?" Strange asked, which told him that he would just summon it and save someone the trouble of getting up and fetching it.

Not to mention, it was late enough that the selection wouldn't be very assorted if they went to either the lounge or the commissary to get it.

"Did you all eat, already?" Peter asked.

"Yes."

"Pancakes."

He really wanted French toast – and if Natasha hadn't eaten, he might have requested it, despite the somewhat annoyed look that Tony would have flashed. But if everyone had eaten, he would have pancakes and spare Stark a little grumbling.

A tray appeared, and the doctor waited until Peter had started eating before speaking up again, looking at Tony.

"I'll be at the sanctum all day if anything comes up."

"Thanks, Stephen."

"You're welcome." He turned his gaze to Peter. "Wong said to tell you hello, and that he has a new list of magical items that he wants to try cataloging when you're feeling better."

"We could do it here," Peter said, looking interested and suddenly thinking that his day could be a lot less dull than he thought it was going to be.

"Not a chance," Strange said, shaking his head before Stark could open his mouth to veto the idea. "The sanctum has magical protections that this compound doesn't. If an item were to go rogue – or suddenly show its true nature, the damage done here could be catastrophic. In the sanctum, it would just be an inconvenience."

"Has it ever happened before?" Stark asked, curiously.

"Yes. Both during my tenure as Sorcerer Supreme and several times before me. Which is the whole point of having the protections that we do."

"That, and to keep the evil wizards out, right?" Peter said.

"That, too," Strange conceded, not bothering to correct Peter's phrasing of wizard. He wasn't referring to himself, so it wasn't annoying. "But when you have a tinderbox like the sanctum sitting in the middle of one of the most populated cities in the world, it behooves you to make sure an errant match won't level the place."

"Then why put them in the big cities?" Stark asked, curiously. "Put it in BFE, instead."

Strange's smile showed that he understood the acronym and he shook his head.

"The sanctums were there before the cities. Moving them now would be problematical, and so difficult that it would be next to impossible. We're better off keeping them where they are and maintaining the protections. I'll tell Wong to start collecting a few items, and when you're back on your feet, we'll borrow you. Maybe for a weekend."

Tony nodded his acceptance of that, very much aware that Peter would enjoy a weekend in the sanctum.

"No toasters, though," he reminded the magician. "Or ceiling fans. Or, for that matter, nothing that has teeth – or sharp edges."

Strange's expression was one of long suffering, but Natasha only smiled.

"Eat, Peter," she told him. "Then we'll find something entertaining to do."

Although she could spend hours listening to Stark and Stephen banter. The boy nodded, and turned his attention to his breakfast. He vaguely remembered that she had mentioned sometime in the night that she had a game they could play, and he was curious what it was.