They had chilidogs for dinner. Strange had planned burgers, but Tony wanted something that didn't really require more than just heating and serving. Which meant chilidogs, potato salad and fruit. Once they were done eating and Peter had washed the dishes – since Stark cooked and Strange wasn't quite ready to try out his ankle just yet – they sat around the fire, talking about the day, the photos that they had taken and what they had planned for the next day. Which wasn't too much, and would depend on how the doctor's ankle was doing, obviously.

Peter was pulling out the elements to make himself another round of s'mores when his watch chimed, surprising him.

"Who is it?" Stark asked, curiously.

Peter grinned, which answered the question for him.

"Hey, Natasha."

"Hi, sweetheart. I was just sitting here doing nothing and was thinking about you and thought I'd see how you're doing."

"I'm good."

"Are you having fun?"

"She isn't supposed to be checking on you," Tony said, able to hear the conversation in the stillness of the night.

"Mr. Stark said you're not supposed to be checking on me," Peter told her, which made Stark roll his eyes and Strange grin.

"I'm not checking on you," came Natasha's reply. "I'm checking on the other guys. How are they doing?"

"Doctor Strange sprained his ankle this afternoon."

"How?" Natasha asked. "Is he okay?"

"Walking out of the lake. He-"

"Tell her I'm fine."

"He says he's fine."

"What was he doing in the lake?"

"Don't you dare tell her that we tipped the canoe," Stark told him.

"What do I tell her?"

"Tell her anything else."

"We capsized the canoe in the middle of the lake and the cloak had to tow us to shore."

Strange laughed, well aware that Peter wasn't good at lying – especially to Natasha – and wouldn't have been able to think of any story so quickly. Stark just rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. We caught some fish, too."

"Who caught the biggest one?"

"Mr. Stark."

"Sounds like an adventure."

"It is. Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine. Tell Tony that Pepper says hello and don't forget to take lots of pictures for us."

"We will."

"Good night, Peter."

The communication went silent and Stark looked over at the boy.

"When I tell you not to tell someone something, that means I don't want you to tell them something."

"I know, but I didn't know what to say instead that wasn't a lie."

"We obviously need to work on that."

OOOOOOOOOO

"He says they're fine."

"Do you believe him?"

"Peter wouldn't lie to me."

"He's hanging out with Tony," Pepper reminded her. "He's a good man, but maybe not the best influence."

Natasha smiled.

"I'll call him again in a couple of days – just to double check."

OOOOOOOO

Strange was the first one ready to go to bed. Not only because he'd been the first one up that morning but because his ankle hurt and he decided that a night with it elevated would make it feel that much better in the morning. Peter offered him a hand but the boy was sticky from marshmallows and melted chocolate, and the doctor let Stark help him to the tent.

"We'll try not to wake you up when we come to bed," Stark promised, easing Strange down onto his sleeping bag.

"You do that," Stephen said. "I'll probably be good to go in the morning. If not, I want coffee, eggs and pancakes."

Tony smiled.

"What was that? Coffee and Apple Jacks?"

"You're killing me, Tony."

He set a pillow under his foot and Stark handed him another icepack to use during the night.

'I'll see you in the morning."

Stark went out to the fire, but he was a bit tired and ready to call it a night, too. One look at Peter told him the boy wasn't even close to being sleepy. He was looking for another marshmallow to put on his roasting skewer and already had a couple of chocolate bars on the paper plate in his lap. The cloak was draped over the back of the chair that Strange had vacated. It didn't want anything to do with sticky marshmallow hands.

"You want a s'more?" Peter offered when Tony came and sat down in his chair with a tired sigh that he wasn't quite able to hide.

"No. Thanks."

"You can go to bed, you know…"

"I'm okay."

"You look tired."

"And you're not?"

"I'm younger than you," Peter reminded him, pulling his burning marshmallow out of the fire and watching it become engulfed with the flames before he blew it out.

"You're not really going to eat that thing, are you?"

Peter shoved the whole marshmallow in his mouth, sucking in air to cool his mouth when the melted mess burned him a little.

"Yup."

Tony shuddered.

"That's so disgusting."

"They're better that way."

"I'm going to talk to May about that," Stark said. "You know that, right?"

"Who do you think taught me how to do it?"

Peter reached into the bag for another marshmallow, and Tony shook his head. He couldn't watch.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Good night."

"You're okay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't stay up too late."

"I won't."

Stark vanished into the tent, and Peter heard him zipping it closed, then set his marshmallow on fire and made himself a s'more with it. He put another log on the fire and watched it catch while he ate the treat and then tossed his paper plate into the fire as well, figuring he'd better ration his marshmallows for later, or he'd have very boring chocolate graham cracker sandwiches instead of s'mores the next few days.

And then, for no reason at all, he grinned.

He was camping. Sitting by a fire, next to a tent and a lake and a forest – or wood, he wasn't sure of the difference but it was still exciting for him. He pulled out the camera and took a selfie with it, even though he knew it probably wouldn't turn out very well in the dark.

"I should have learned to play the guitar," he told the cloak, which was still hanging out with him for the moment. "Then we could sit around the campfire and sing old fashioned songs or something."

It crooned into his mind cheerfully in response. It didn't know – or care – about guitars or singing, but it would go along with whatever he wanted to do.

As the night grew darker around him and the fire died a little more, Peter watched with fascination as some nocturnal creatures came out, some daring to brush near the camp as they headed for the lake for a drink, or just going about their business and ignoring the lone boy sitting quietly near the fire pit. His night vision was more than adequate to see details, and he watched bats come eat the mosquitos and other flying insects that were naturally drawn to the fire and the lake water, and even an owl or two flying overhead back and forth, looking for whatever it was that they ate.

The sugar in his system kept him awake much later than he planned, but eventually the fire was low enough that he decided to call it a night or he'd have to go get a jacket to put on over his sweatshirt. Before going to bed he went to get his now dry clothing from the side of the truck bed and folded them – somewhat – figuring that he'd put them on the picnic table instead of waking everyone up trying to get them into his bag in the tent.

A sound drew his attention just as his senses began to tingle a warning and he looked over by the tent, shocked to see that he wasn't alone. A dark shape ambled along the side of the tent, not in any hurry to get wherever it was going and sniffing the ground and the air occasionally as it investigated the campsite. It was walking with an odd gait – he thought maybe with a limp – but the only time he'd ever actually seen a live bear was at the zoo, and that had been a very long time ago.

A new sound behind the truck made him turn away from the impossible sight of the bear, and when he looked he saw another impossibility. Two more bears – these being much smaller than the one near the tent – were heading toward the truck, on track to meet the larger bear at the picnic table where he'd left his bag of marshmallows. The only problem with that was that they would walk into him when they did.

Peter froze, his spider senses screaming at him that he was in danger – which he absently found absolutely ludicrous since it was obvious that he was in danger. Well aware that he wasn't a match for anything the size of the bear – the big one, at least – he was also aware that the big bear was only a few feet away from where Tony was sleeping near the front of the tent and that it could seriously hurt him if he made a noise or something in his sleep that startled it. He was certain the flimsy tent wouldn't keep either Stark or Strange safe if the bear tried to go after them.

The Cloak of Levitation did not freeze. It didn't know what a bear was, but it was tuned into Peter enough to feel his fear, and it recognized the two little bears as being the danger to his Peter since they were closest to him. The ancient relic flew at the two little bears, snapping at them with an edge of fabric that hit the closest one and made it squeal with pain and fright. It tried to run away and ran toward the water –and Peter – and was pinned between the cloak and the truck, with Peter now somehow in the path of its escape route.

The other little bear ran off without a fight, running right past the front of the tent and squealing with fright as it ran into the woods. The large bear roared with fury at the perceived threat to the cub the cloak was harassing and charged. For obvious reasons, it didn't see the cloak as the danger to the cub – it didn't see the cloak at all, really. Only the boy that was standing between it and the youngster.

The cloak slapped the cub again, trying to get it to move away from Peter, but then it saw the charging bear and recognized the true threat to Peter. As the bear pounced on the boy, who tried to dodge at the last minute, but failed to avoid one of the huge paws that took a swipe at him, the cloak wrapped itself around the jaws that were going for a killing bite and all three of them went down in a chaotic pile against the rear wheel of the truck.