After breakfast Peter started in on the dishes and grinned when the three adults all decided that they were going to test Stark's theory that the rain made Peter's fishing so successful, or if it were Stephen's theory that it was the time of day that had the fish so willing to bite. Stark had shown them the photos he'd taken of the fish that Peter had caught, and the boy had to admit they'd been pretty good looking fish – although he did wonder if maybe he'd caught the same one a couple of times. They looked enough alike in the pictures. He was looking forward to showing May the pictures and was glad Mr. Stark had taken them – even if he hadn't known that he was doing it at the time.

"You sure you don't mind us leaving you here?" Tony asked the boy. "I could hang out with you instead of them."

"I'm not far away," he pointed out. "It'll be fun to watch you guys – and still be dry."

"Do you need anything?" Natasha asked.

"No. I'll just finish these and sit in a chair or something and relax. A blanket, maybe?"

"Stephen?"

A neatly folded blanket appeared in the chair that Peter had used during breakfast.

"No magic while we're fishing," Tony said.

"Did you want to slog through the rain to get him a blanket?" Strange asked.

"No. I said while we're fishing," Tony pointed out. "Pay attention, Stephen."

Strange rolled his eyes and winked at Peter, since he knew Stark wouldn't be able to see it.

"Have fun," Peter told them.

"You, too, Cinderella," Natasha said, putting up her hood and heading out of the shelter with the others, fishing pole in hand.

Peter smiled at that, amused, and watched them while he finished washing the dishes and left them in the rack to dry, already subscribing Mr. Stark's theory about not drying the dishes since nature would do it for him. Even on a rainy day. Then, with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, warm and dry, he sat near the edge of the shelter with his camera in hand and watched to see who would catch the first fish.

OOOOOOOOO

"Fishing sucks," Natasha said an hour later.

'You're only saying that because you haven't caught a fish, yet," Tony pointed out.

"No. I'm saying that because I'm soaked to the skin, my hair is ruined and I haven't caught a fish, yet."

Especially since the other two had both had plenty of luck, and had each caught a few nice looking fish. All of which were still somewhere swimming in the lake, having been released back into the water once taken off the hook and photographed with the man who had caught it.

"Wait until you catch one, Natasha," Strange said. "Then you'll-"

Her bobber suddenly vanished and the tip of her fishing pole bent until it was almost folded in half and she squealed in excitement.

"Reel it in!" Tony told her, harsh with excitement for her. None of their poles had reacted so strongly, so he had to assume she had a big one on the line. "Carefully, though. Don't let it get away."

"I am," she told him, reeling her line in, feeling the wriggling on the other end that was proof she definitely had a fish on the other end.

The line jerked and ran back and forth as Romanoff reeled in the fish, and at the last moment, worried that it would get away like Peter's half fish had, she gave a mighty jerk and the fish flew out of the water, almost hitting Strange, who was standing close by.

Stark snapped a picture.

"Nice fish," Stephen said, reaching down and picking it up. It was easily bigger than any of theirs had been – although it was hard to tell if any of Peter's had been larger, since they only had the pictures. "How do you like fishing, now?"

She smiled and took the fish off the hook with only a little difficulty, and then turned toward the shelter wondering if Peter had seen her triumph. The boy was standing just at the edge of the shelter, waving his hand, obviously excited for her. She held up the fish so he could see it, and to pose with it for another picture that Stark was taking, before putting it back into the water and letting it go.

"You didn't magic her up a fish, did you?" Stark asked Strange, softly, as Natasha walked over to where they'd left their tackle box so that she could get more bait to recast her line.

Stephen shook his head, amused.

"Magic can do many things, Tony," he said. "Convincing a fish that some goo at the end of a hook is irresistible is not one of them."

Stark shrugged his acceptance of that. The timing had been pretty good, though, so he had to ask. He looked up at the sky, realizing that the rain was finally ebbing off a bit and the gloomy sky was starting to brighten a little.

Strange noticed the look, and shook his head, again.

"I didn't have anything to do with that, either."

Tony smiled, and started reeling in his line. Natasha returned just as he was hooking his hook into the reel.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go dry off and see what Peter is doing."

"Show him the picture of my fish."

"He watched you reel it in."

"I hope he saw how you almost ripped its lips off with that last tug," Stephen added.

"I didn't want it to get away."

Stark shook his head and took his pole back to the truck, and went into the shelter. Peter had seen him coming and had thoughtfully poured him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." Stark took an appreciative sip and the set the cup on the table. "I'm going to go dry of and change. Do you need anything from the tent?"

"No. Thanks."

OOOOOOOOO

By the time Strange and Natasha finally called it quits for the day, the sun was trying to come out, the clouds were moving on and Natasha had caught two more fish. They put up the gear and went into the shelter, both soaked to the skin, but looking as though they'd had a good time. They found Peter and Tony playing chess.

"Are you having fun?" Natasha asked, coming over to stand behind Peter, who smiled a greeting to her as she did.

She put her hand on his forehead and pulled him back against her sodden sweatshirt, at the same time leaning over and putting her cheek against his own – which caused her wet hair to cascade down over his face, getting him wet. She pressed a noisy kiss against his temple and then his cheek before moving away, leaving damp splotches on his sweatshirt, face and hair.

Tony held up a hand and turned to Strange, who was standing somewhat behind him.

"If you do that to me I swear I will toss you into the lake."

Stephen smirked.

"How do you think that would turn out?"

"With you wet and me standing behind Romanoff."

Peter wasn't the only one to smile at that – and recognize that there might be a little truth in it.

"I'm going to go change," Natasha told them. "I'll be back in a minute."

"We'll start lunch," Tony said. "Don't be long."