It was Strange who managed to catch the first fish. It was a fairly large one, too, and Peter whooped with excitement when the doctor reeled it in. Tony was impressed when he helped get it off the hook.

"It'll make a good addition to dinner," Stark told them both, as Peter took a picture of Strange holding it up, triumphantly.

Peter frowned, looking at the fish and then at Strange, who had absolutely no trouble reading the boy's expression just then.

"I'm not going to eat that," Peter said.

"And I'm certainly not going to cook it."

"What? That's the whole point of catching fish," Tony reminded them. "To have it for dinner."

Strange let the fish loose and it swam away, not realizing its luck.

"We're having burgers tonight, and I have no intention of running down a cow."

Tony scowled, and looked at Peter, but realized he wasn't going to get any help from him. He had that stubborn set to his jaw that the man knew all too well.

"You didn't expect to catch something for dinner?"

"It's called fishing," Peter pointed out. "Not catching. I just assumed we'd spend the day with our hooks in the water."

"It was a big fish, though," Strange had to say, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

Peter grinned.

"Yeah, it was."

They had similar discussions when Peter caught his first fish, as well, and then Strange caught another. Both fish went back into the water unscathed. There was a bit more of a crisis when Tony caught one, too, and looked at his companions as he started to pull out the fish holder that would keep it alive in the water until they were ready to finish their fishing for the day.

Strange's expression was a challenge, pure and simple, and he knew immediately what that challenge was when he looked over at Peter, who looked almost like he was going to cry. Prove he was a mighty fisherman who could catch his own dinner, or devastate the boy he cared about most in the world? It wasn't even close, really. His ego would lose every time, and he knew it – and Strange knew it. But Stark didn't give in graciously. He rolled his eyes and set the fish loose with a sigh.

Peter's relieved grin was worth it, he supposed.

"Let's go canoeing."

"After we eat some lunch," Stephen said.

Fishing was hungry work, after all.

OOOOOOOO

"Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Stephen?"

"Yes."

The canoe was perfectly sized to hold two men and a scrawny teen, but it wasn't the steadiest craft Stark had ever tried boarding. He held the thing still in the water to allow Peter and Strange to settle themselves, and then pushed out a bit from the lake – remembering the drop off that had sucked Peter in earlier that day at the last minute and had jumped in as well.

The little vessel rocked precariously for a minute, threatening to tip over, but then righted itself and all three of them breathed a sigh of relief. Peter was in the middle and didn't have an oar, so he took out his camera to take photos, being careful not to include any that had the cloak hovering in the air, instead of draped over someone's shoulder.

It didn't know if it wanted to canoe or not, obviously, and it didn't seem to be impressed by the lifejackets they were all wearing, either.

"This isn't so bad," Stark said after several minutes of careful rowing had propelled them fairly well out toward the middle of the lake. "It's peaceful."

"It certainly is quiet," Strange agreed.

Peter looked over the side of the canoe, well aware that the water was much deeper than anything he'd been in before.

"I saw this movie one time where some guy released a bunch of piranha into a resort lake and they started eating anyone who went into the water…"

Stephen frowned, looking over the side as well.

"Why would he do that?"

The boy shrugged.

"That isn't the part of the movie that I remember," he admitted.

"There aren't any piranha in the lake," Stark assured them both. "Otherwise Peter would have been eaten this morning, remember?"

Good point.

"Too bad we didn't bring the fishing poles," Strange said after a few more minutes. "I imagine all the really big fish are out here."

"We wouldn't get to eat them," Tony reminded them, still a little peeved about the one that hadn't gotten away but had been let go.

"The catching is the fun part," Peter said, looking over the side again.

Probably looking for piranha, Stark decided, looking over the side, as well.

Unfortunately for all three of them, Strange had chosen that moment to look that direction, too, and the center of balance in the canoe shifted in an instant. All three felt it, and leaned the other way, automatically, which sent the little craft tilting the other direction, swamping it and dumping them all into the water with assorted oaths.

Stark immediately turned to Peter, worried that he'd be freaking out, and the boy did look a little pale, clutching his lifejacket with both hands, but he was calm. Strange was, as well, when Tony looked at him.

"Okay, we just flip it upright and get back in one at a time," he told them.

All three turned toward the canoe, just in time to watch it sink.

"What kind of boat sinks when it tips over?" Stark asked, annoyed.

"All of them do, Tony," Strange pointed out, treading water, even though it wasn't necessary. Their lifejackets were doing what they were designed to do; holding them out of the water enough that they weren't in any danger.

But they were a fair distance from the shore.

"Well… looks like we get an afternoon swim in," Stark said, reaching out to take hold of Peter's jacket to keep the boy from drifting away from his side. "And I do not want to hear the word piranha."

The cloak came to a hover in front of Peter, extending a corner of fabric toward the boy, humming reassurance into his mind. Obviously it didn't see the need for them to swim when it could tow them in – as long as it didn't have to get into the water with them.

"You don't mind?" Peter asked it, gratefully reaching a hand up to grasp it.

"It's going to float you?" Tony asked.

"It'll tow us," Peter said, feeling an agreement from the relic. "Hold onto me, and I'll hold it."

The cloak waited until they were secure, and Peter's grip was firm, then it flew toward their campsite, skimming just above the surface of the lake and going slow enough that their faces didn't get swamped with the wake of Peter's passing.

Half an hour later, it was a weary group of sodden flotsam that finally felt the bottom of the lake underfoot and let go.

"Thanks," Peter told the cloak.

The relic hummed cheerfully, brushed the same corner of fabric against the boy's cheek and then flew over to the fire pit, draping itself over the back of a chair, wet end toward the mostly dead fire as if waiting for someone to come light it.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asked as they walked across the rocky shore, wet shoes – inside and out – making the footing a little less secure.

"Yeah," Peter told him, turning just in time to see the doctor slip and roll his ankle.

The boy's reflexes were quick enough to catch Strange's arm and keep him from falling, and he was strong enough to hold him steady, but the doctor hissed in pain when he tried to put his weight on the foot. Stark immediately moved to one side of him while Peter adjusted his grip on the other and the two supported him as he staggered to the chairs.

Crooning with concern that only Peter could feel, the cloak moved from its chair to hover beside Strange, caressing his cheek with the already wet corner of fabric.

"You okay?" Tony asked, watching as Stephen pulled his shoe off and set it by the edge of the fire pit. They were going to need to dry out, after all. The sock followed, and Strange moved his foot a little, wincing.

"Yeah. Just sprained, I think."

"Good." Stark looked at Peter. "Go get him some dry clothes, and get the first aid kit. We'll ice it, and wrap it, and keep you off it the rest of the day."

Peter took off for the tent at a trot, and Strange nodded his approval of Stark's plan.

"You'll probably have to cook dinner, though."

"We'll probably be having cereal, then."

Both men were grinning when the boy returned.