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bro, work made me depressed that I literally left my seat to regain any resemblance of joy or something equivalent before breaking down again. Do you think you can provide a ficlet I involving Peter and Sam to cheer me up?
FUCK CAPITALISM
TAKE THIS
Title: Calibrating
Summary: Sam and Peter talk themselves towards a meaningful discussion.
---------
Peter did this thing—this infuriating thing where he texted shit like ‘come over’ and then Sam had to bend over backwards to be flirty and coy.
It was imperative that he came across as flirty and coy.
Im-fucking-perative, regardless of what Leilani said or Matt’s annoyance at what he called the ‘jungle of depravity’ that overtook the group chat pretty much daily.
Sam didn’t care.
If Peter texted the group or sent any message that might be construed upside-down as something romantic or sexual, Sam not only had to catch it, but he had to volley it back.
This, he told Leilani, sealed their No-Homo contract.
She stared at him.
He decided to demonstrate.
“See, here, look, I’ll show you,” he said, dragging out his phone. “Exhibit A. There he is, see? Asking about the strength of PVC pipe in pounds per meter like a fuckin’ tease. Now I can’t just let him think that I saw that and didn’t think of it as a metaphor, alright? So I say—”
“Sam, why does he need to know the strength of PVC pipe?” Leilani interrupted.
It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point of this discussion.
“I’m sending a winky-face,” Sam informed her as he did that very thing.
Leilani stared harder than before.
But look, skepticism was unrewarded. Peter texted a kiss right back and said ‘oh boo, you always know just want to say.’
How could she not see the No-Homo? Sam could do this all day. He could and there would be absolutely no problems and he wouldn’t want to suffocate himself in his pillow at the end of it all.
It was fine.
“Samuel,” Leilani said, “I’m going to tell you something and I want you to hear it with an open heart. Will you open your heart for me?”
Sam spun around in his chair and arranged his arms and legs so that they were as open as they could feasibly be without being obscene.
“I am more open than a boiled clam,” he informed her.
Leilani blinked slowly, then shook her head and checked over her shoulders. She waved him in closer. Then closer. And then close enough that he could smell her perfume on her neck.
“You’re the tease,” she said.
Then she left the backroom. And Sam could only stare after her, frozen in horror as his wide-open heart wrinkled in on itself, picking up mass and gravity until it was naught but a black hole.
“I’m the tease?” he whispered to himself in shock.
Oh no.
OH NO.
--
“SENSEI.”
Matt dropped his collection of folders and swore, clutching at his chest.
“We have discussed volume, Sam,” he said, bending down to collect his paper children.
Sam took the opportunity to throw both arms around his neck from behind as a threat.
“Don’t lie,” he warned. “Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, amen.”
Matt stood up and Sam felt his toes leave the floor. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.
“Or what?” Matt asked, 110% unfazed.
Sam wished that his feet weren’t kicking around in air here. It really put a dent in his intimidation factor.
“Am I a tease?” he asked.
Matt faced front with heavy eyebrows. Sam couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he knew that aura of irritation.
“If you have to ask the question, then you already know the answer,” Matt said. “Does that help?”
“No, I hate you now, actually,” Sam told him.
Matt dropped him right on his ass.
--
There had to be a way to attain proof. To determine once and for all that it was Sam who was in the wrong here, misinterpreting things like the genius that he was.
Thankfully, Sam’s experience of growing up as a non-only child for the last two decades had prepared him exactly for this type of conversation.
SC: HANNAH AM I A TEASE???
HC: yes
HC: next question
SC: FUCK.
SC: WHAT IF ITS NOT NO-HOMO?
HC: my dear brother, the only options if something is not no-homo is for it to be no-no or homo-homo.
SC: Murder me
HC: gladly
SC: I’m in possible homo-homo with spiderman
HC: are you sure it’s not no-no?
SC: MURDER ME
HC: okay but like if it’s no-no then this is not a problem, right?
SC: If it’s no-no then I’ve read every sign wrong and I deserve to become a partially eaten tadpole awash in an indifferent boiling sea
HC: okay so we’re leaning INTO the drama today I gotcha. Alright but like, just for the sake of arguing, what if it was homo-homo?
SC: then I need you to bury my body somewhere no one will ever find it because my heart can’t stand requited love you know this about me.
HC: give me your login
SC: thank you I love you you’re the only person who matters
--
BT: Spiderman.
SM: Blindspot. DMing? You okay?
BT: this is Hannah.
SM: OH
SM: hi Hannah are you okay? Did you need something?
BT: My brother never got tested for reading comprehension but would have failed anyways. Can you arbitrate an arbitrary argument for us?
SM: I’m positive that there is a link between those two ideas that I am missing, but sure?
BT: okay are you ready?
SM: my loins have been girded.
BT: gross. you two are made for each other. Okay: what are your opinions on 24yo Chinese dudes with bad vision who are 5’7” tall, with terrible hair and brains as big and gaseous as Jupiter?
SM: positive
BT: you’re so romantic spidey.
SM: I know
BT: I’m going to tell him now
SM: WAIT DON’T TELL HIM
BT: byeeeeeee
--
Sam was going to have a heart attack. He couldn’t look at his phone. He was just going to lay here until he wasted away into a fossil.
Mm, yes, what a wonderful way to escape any and all feelings. That was—
His phone chirped and he nearly fell out of his chair in a hurry to answer it.
HC: [image] [image]
HC: you owe me your bones
SC: AFASDFADFAS:FJaf’asdfjahsdlfihasdl’fas
SC: TAKE THEM
HC: if you fuck spiderman you have to get pregnant and demand alimony for your beautiful mixed babies Samuel
SC: Darling sister, we’ve talked about this. it isn’t going to happen I still have yet to steal a womb
HC: try harder
HC: ttyl
--
Okay, this was fine.
Everything was fine.
Spidey liked Sam back, it was no big deal. Spidey liked everyone back. Even the teases.
Even.
The.
Teases.
Fuck, Sam had to move.
--
Foggy caught him biting his nails to pieces over the copy machine and asked him if he was okay. He was not. Foggy could read this off him. He didn’t ask again, but he did say that if Sam was feeling particularly anxious about something he was welcome to go have his breakdown upstairs in Kirsten’s kitchen instead of downstairs among the files.
Sam appreciated his offer. He hiked up the stairs, and halfway up, his phone chirped.
His heart stopped.
It chirped again, and then again. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, it was chirping every couple of seconds with messages being typed and sent at mach speed.
He kicked off his shoes and went to go stand over Kirsten’s sink to open the first one.
PP: Sam it’s peter hey listen your sister messaged me
PP: and was asking some pretty invasive questions and I replied to her. I don’t know if you saw them but I just wanted to say that if that makes you uncomfortable in any way know that I absolutely don’t mind and I’ll stop
PP: you can tell me to fuck off if that crossed your boundaries. I shouldn’t have even messaged her back without asking you
PP: and obviously in future I won’t talk to her until I’ve cleared it with you I just wasn’t thinking I’m never thinking it’s a little hard to think sometimes
PP: especially when you message me back and I get caught up in the games and the emojis and stuff and like I’m sure that sometimes I overstep but I don’t mean to and you can tell me at any point if you want me to stop
PP: I guess I just really like to talk to you sometimes and it’s fun to have someone to banter with who actually banters back like not in a mean way but in a really nice and funny way. you’re an easy guy to talk to is what I’m saying
PP: which I’m sure you get a lot. I don’t mean that I want to like tell you all my problems I swear it’s not that it’s just more of a AHHHHH I don’t even know what I’m saying I think it’s sorry???
PP: I’m sorry??? I don’t mean to imply anything that isn’t there and I don’t want to make you feel like you have to either. Ar e you mad? Please don’t be mad okay wait no I’ve sent like seven fucking messages I’m being a creep oh my god IM SORRY ILL SHUT UP NOW OKAY SORRY BYE
Oh nooooo.
The panic-induced infodump was not only familiar but horrendously endearing.
Sam had to explode now.
Man. Bummer.
SC: it’s okay Peter
PP: OH THANK GOD
PP: is it tho??? Are you sure?
SC: I have positive feelings towards people like you too
Sam’s heart pounded. He almost locked his phone and threw it in the sink, but another text came in just as that thought finished crossing his mind.
PP: you do?
SC: yes of course I do
PP: oh nice
SC: yeah
Annnnnnnd cue mutual nerd awkwardness. Great. Well done, Sam, you’ve done it again.
He sighed and turned away from the sink and sunk down onto the floor with his back against it.
Such a loser, Chung. So painfully awkward. Would it kill you to, just for once, slow down and chill for a minute?
God.
PP: hey sam?
No, Sam just wanted to sit on this floor and wallow.
PP: hello? Are you still there?
--
Sam let his head fall back against the sink. He closed his eyes.
His phone rang in his hand and he nearly had a heart attack. His fingers scrabbled over its face and the caller ID read ‘Peter Parker.’
Oh god.
Oh no.
Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.
“Hello?” he answered to the scratchy phone silence on the other side of the line.
He frowned.
“Hello?” he tried again, a smidge less desperate.
“Hi.”
There he was.
“Hey,” Sam said. “Sorry, just got awkward.”
Peter laughed through the line.
“Me too,” he said. “That was awkward.”
Yeah.
“Yeah.”
A long pause.
“I’m doing it again,” Sam moaned into his hand.
“No, no. Hey, you’re good,” Peter said. “I was just uh. Calling because.” He trailed off.
Sam waited.
“Sam? You still there?”
He startled and cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Sorry, zoning out a little bit. You know, busy day.”
“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, I know.”
Sam breathed as quietly as he could. He could almost hear Peter doing the same on his end.
“Sorry, I’ve gotta g—” Sam started.
“Hey, do you like me?”
HNG.
“No?” Sam answered and then punched himself in the leg. “Sorry. Uh. I didn’t—I mean, uh. Yes. Of course I like you. You’re a really good person. I admire you a lot.”
Hannah, oh Hannah, where is thine shovel? Sam needed it to dig this grave deeper, please.
“Oh. Okay, I just—I guess I uh, have a hard time reading the tone of your texts sometimes,” Peter said.
“It’s okay, I get that a lot,” Sam said. “I’ll try harder to be more direct.”
“No,” Peter said. “No, no, you don’t have to change anything.”
“Oh? Okay, well. Maybe I still will, though,” Sam said.
If Peter wouldn’t have heard him, he would have started to try to fit his whole fist in his mouth.
Five minutes of conversation and they were still saying nothing.
“Sam?”
He swallowed.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Next time you’re in the city, would you, uh, maybe want to go out somewhere? With me?”
Out? What like, to a movie or something?
“Yeah, just like that,” Peter said. “’Cause I uh. Would like to. Do that, I mean. With you.”
“With me?” Sam asked. “Oh right, and your other friends, uh, names—sorry, I’m bad with names. N-ned?”
“No,” Peter said oddly abruptly. “Well, I mean—I don’t mean it like that. I just—just with you. For now. That’s what I mean.”
“Oh. Uh. Kinda like a date?” Sam asked through the forcefield of self-hatred that felt like it spanned the entire continental US.
There was a pause. Sam held his breath.
“Yeah,” Peter said. “Exactly like a date. If you don’t mind—you know, doing that with me.”
AHAHAHAHAHAHA.
“Are you trying to lure me to a secondary location, Mr. Parker?” Sam asked seriously.
The laugh that met him made all the muscles in his shoulders relax.
“Maybe if the bit at the first location goes well,” Peter said. Then added hurriedly, “If you’re down for that.”
Sam was down for it right now.
Actually, maybe not in Kirsten’s kitchen. But like, right now in a different location.
“If it’s a movie date, we can do it through Netflix Party,” he pointed out faux-lightly. “It wouldn’t be the same, but we could do it this weekend, even. Saturday—I’m off Saturday.”
Peter said nothing for a long time.
“Okay. Saturday,” he finally agreed, “I can do Saturday. Kinda hard to hold your hand through a screen, but I can give it my best shot?”
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffff.
“Oh, I bet you will,” Sam nearly choked.
“You’re really cute, Sam.”
NO. SHUT UP. YOU ARE.
“Thanks.”
“I wanted to kiss you last time you were here, but I was too, uh. Shy. Embarrassed. One of them.”
Sam was going to puke, but in like, the happiest kind of way.
“I like you a lot too, Peter,” he whispered.
“Are you crying?”
“What? No.”
“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”
“Shut up, I’m not. I—the old man’s downstairs, his ears aren’t as good through ceilings, but I just want to make sure—”
“Uh-huh,” Peter said. “I’m sure that’s what it is. So I’ll see you Saturday? Maybe Facetime or something?”
“Yeah, Saturday,” Sam said. “I’ll send you a time when I know. I’ve gotta go. Meltdown-alloted-breaktime is over.”
Peter laughed.
“Alright, man, I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”
“Bye,” Sam said lamely.
He hung up the phone. He did not scream. But he did fist pump and then fall onto his side.
