Chapter 26
Strange put him on the porch. There wasn’t really any need to take him inside – and a few reasons the sorcerer supreme preferred not to have anyone else in there anyway.
“Have a seat,” he said when the boy and his SHIELD guardian walked up the steps onto the porch.
Proving that he was most definitely not injured, Peter hopped up onto the rail of the porch rather than the chair that the doctor had started to gesture toward. He settled in easily, without falling backward which both men expected to happen – even though Bucky knew the boy was fairly graceful when he had a chance to climb on something. (Running downhill? Not so much.)
Strange rolled his eyes wondering why the little guy was allowed to do something that was clearly dangerous (not jumping out of an airplane dangerous, obviously, but there was a good chance that he could have fallen on his head from his lofty perch on the rail) when he was obviously being smothered in caution. Not that he could blame Tony Stark for doing it, though. Peter had a giant target on his back, simply because of who he was related to – and the company that he kept.
“Don’t fall off.”
Peter smiled, cheerfully.
“I won’t. I’m pretty sticky, sometimes.”
The sorcerer wondered why his counselor frowned at the choice of words, but didn’t comment. Having Peter up on the rail did make it easier to get a good look at his scratched head, and he reached for a clean cloth to wipe it down and make sure there wasn’t any dirt in the area before he bandaged it.
“It really doesn’t look too bad,” he assured Peter and Barnes. “It probably doesn’t need too much doctoring, but I’m a doctor so he we are.”
Peter grinned at that, too, and then hissed in a breath when the antiseptic in the cleaning pad touched his forehead.
“Sorry,” Strange said, meaning it. He was an arrogant ass, sometimes, true, but he didn’t like causing pain. Especially to a little kid. It was part of his do no harm oath, after all. “It shouldn’t hurt too long.”
“I’m okay,” Peter assured him. His eyes widened, though, as he looked over the doctor’s shoulder at the window of the cabin. “What was that?”
“What?” Barnes asked, instantly alert, eyes following Peter’s gaze.
“I saw something in the window. Something moved.”
Strange frowned.
“In my cabin?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s nothing in my cabin, I assure you,’ he told the boy – and his suddenly wary shadow. “Just some medical books and a coffee pot.”
“I saw something.”
Peter was adamant, and Barnes looked ready to insist he go in and take a look. With a silent curse, Strange made a very slight gesture with his hand behind his back, blocking both of their views. The cabin suddenly seemed even darker inside than it had been.
“Maybe a squirrel got in, or something,” he said, turning and crossing the little porch to the door, which he then opened. Sure enough, out ran a gray squirrel, crossing the porch and diving from the deck almost right below where Peter was perched on the rail. “There it is,” he added, shaking his head in only somewhat feigned annoyance. “There must be a hole in the foundation, somewhere. That’s the second one that has gotten in already.”
“I didn’t see a squirrel,” Peter said, frowning. He looked confused, and was watching the doctor with an odd look that neither man could decipher. “It looked higher…”
“Maybe it climbed the walls,” Strange suggested.
“Probably did,” Barnes agreed, although he was frowning, too. Not because of the squirrel, just because something was setting off his gut. Not in a this is a danger to Peter kind of way, but the doctor’s mannerisms had become a little… wonky. “How’s the head?”
He was ready to get his young charge off the rail and away from the doctor. Just in case.
“It’s okay,” Peter replied. “I guess.”
“If it starts hurting more, come find me,” Stephen told him as he put a large band-aid across the area of the scrape. “We’ll see about pain management.”
“Okay.” Peter took a last look at the window and then hopped down from the rail, gracefully. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He watched, leaning on the rail, as the two went down the stairs and then walked off in the general direction that the others camper had gone, and then walked into the cabin. The cloak of levitation greeted him with an enthusiastic twitch, and the doctor scowled.
“Are you out of your mind?”
If it could shrug and roll its eyes, he was sure it would have.
“You need to return to the sanctum,” the sorcerer supreme told it. “This is no place for you.”
It swept to the window of the cabin, looking for all the world as if it was watching Peter walk down the hill.
“Don’t even think about it…”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“He’s hurt?”
“He took a tumble and scratched his forehead.”
Tony frowned.
“How did that happen?”
Romanoff smirked, looking completely unconcerned. Which was a relief to Tony, even though his expression wasn’t showing it, just then. If she was relaxed then Peter probably was, too.
“He’s a little boy. They fall down sometimes.”
“Is he alright?”
“He’s fine, Tony. The kids just finished some kind of weird scavenger hunt that turned into something straight out of Scooby Doo and now are heading for dinner.”
He made an annoyed noise, but Pepper rested her hand on his shoulder, looking over him at the display. The touch softened Stark’s concerned expression as it usually did.
“We knew he fell,” she said. “JARVIS saw it happen. But then he went under the porch and we didn’t see what happened, next.”
“The convict doctor put a band aid on his forehead and sent him on his way.”
“What did Barnes say?” The billionaire asked.
“He said he’s fine. A squirrel got into the cabin, I guess, and made Peter curious.”
The scowl returned.
“Curious about what?”
“No clue.” She smiled. “He probably gave it a name as it ran away.”
Pepper smiled, too.
“What are they doing tonight?”
“Games in the gym,” came the instant reply. “Then they’re writing letters home.”
Awww.
She smirked.
“He’ll probably write to me, instead.”
Tony smiled and rolled his eyes.
“Good night, Agent Romanoff.”
“Good night.”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“This place is so weird.”
Peter couldn’t disagree. Of course, he was looking at waffles and sausages at 6PM. Pizza for breakfast and breakfast for dinner. It was weird.
“It’s fun, though,” he said.
The boys sitting at the table with him all had to agree.
“Yeah.” Ned picked up a sausage. “Think we’re having tacos for breakfast, tomorrow?”
There was laughter, and not just from their table. Before anyone could reply, Jay was standing by the table, but clearly focused on Peter, who looked up at him.
“How’s the head?”
“It’s okay. Hardly hurts at all.”
“The doctor said y
Ou didn’t hurt anything else?”
“Just my head,” Peter confirmed.
“He got a big band-aid,” Ned said – as if the camp director couldn’t see it.
Jay smiled, though, and it was obvious to the two counselors at the table that he really did enjoy conversations with younger kids. Probably one of the reasons he was so good at his job.
“Make sure you have Doctor Strange take a look at it in the morning.”
“Okay.”