Summary:
Glossophobia
n.
an abnormal fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak.
Notes: birthday gift for Furdonkadonk on tumblr
Peter and Danny stood in front of the class.
Today was their class presentation.
Peter's knees were shaking.
Peter had been paired with Danny, which would have worked out great. If Danny hadn't taken a serious kick to the throat last night during their SHIELD approved crime fighting as costumed superheroes.
His mouth was dry. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
Danny was confident. Students, even adults, listened to him easily. Even if sometimes he spoke in zen sayings and parables that were deliberately vague.
His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Like a tiny bird trying to escape.
Danny's skill with the Iron Fist was improving steadily, but his ability to heal was still limited. He'd healed his outer bruising away, and could speak. Just barely though, his voice was rough and each word he spoke reminded Peter of his own failure last night.
Danny stood at his side. Strong and solid and not at all nervous in the slightest.
Luke and was sitting in a pose of polite attention. Eyes focused on Peter.
Ava was reviewing her and Sam's notes. Quietly making angry faces as she organized them.
Sam was trying to balance his pencil on his nose and giving all appearances of ignoring him. Which Peter was keenly aware should make him mad. Being ignored by your sig oh while you gave a class presentation was a common cause of fights in the stories and comics he read. Actually, though, it was a huge relief.
The rest of the class was looking right at him. The gaze of his friends was stressful enough. But at least he could tell his ridiculous anxiety that it was being stupid and they probably didn't think half the things he was worrying that they thought. His fellow students were complete jerks though. They all had either laughed at him, either something he'd said or done, or his being bullied, at least once.
It was a lot harder to tell his anxiety to shut up and stuff it when it was their eyes watching him. He could feel them just waiting for him to mess up.
He wished he could wear his mask for this.
Spider-Man had no fear of speaking his mind no matter who was watching.
Peter opened his mouth. His hands tremble.
"Uh, this, um… We-we're, uh…"
He shoved the papers into Danny's chest and ran out the room.
He stopped against the side of a display case, whole body shaking.
They all think you're some kind of loser and they're right. Who runs out like a chicken from a stupid class. Now now now. It isn't Peter's fault he's afraid of public speaking. It's very common you know Hah. Spider-Man don't have no problems chattin' anyone up! Pete's just a dumb freak!
"Sh-shut up," Peter whispered. He leaned his head against the wood of the case and hugged himself. Tears of frustration and panic running down his face.
He was so busy trying to ignore his shoulder 'pals' that he didn't really register the warm arms of his boyfriend wrapping around him. Or as those arms moved around his waist, leading him down the hallway. He did finally check back in when Sam pulled him down into his lap.
If he weren't inhumanly flexible his head resting on Sam's chest while he curled up in Sam's lap would probably be really uncomfortable.
Freak
His shoulder devil whispered maliciously at the unintentional reminder of his not quite human status. His shoulder angel had been beaten away at some point walking to the detention room.
Peter wrapped his arms around Sam and held him close. Sam nuzzled against his hair and pressed soft kisses to his temple.
"No one's gonna walk in on us, let it out, Webs. It's gonna be OK. I'm here," he murmured soothingly. He kept up a constant stream of soft, kind words as Peter shook against him.
After what was far too much crying for Sam's taste, Peter grew quiet. Sam let himself stop talking and ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. Peter's too tight grip loosed. Sam grimaced. He was going to have to use the Nova helmet before Peter saw the bruises he'd accidentally left.
Peter sighed softly.
"Sam?"
"Yeah, Webs?"
"You don't think I'm a freak, right?"
"Freakishly sexy, maybe."
"Sam! That's not-"
"Pete, I trained under a talking racoon and the deadliest assassin in the galaxy for two years. And their team has a talking tree, a tattooed alien that literally cannot get metaphors, and a sex crazed half human constantly getting everyone else in trouble. So, no, I don't think you're a freak. I think you're hot and funny and amazing."
Peter grew quiet again, tapping softly against Sam's chest. Long. Short, short, short, short. Short long…
Sam pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.
"Anytime, Webhead."
Blushing, Peter pulled away.
"I, uh, I didn't know you knew morse code."
Sam chuckled.
"Yeah, well, it works with lights, too. Comes in handy when you're in deep space."
"Oh."
They sat quietly for a few minutes, Sam playing with Peter's hair. Peter resting his head against Sam's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"Wanna cut class and see who can catch the most muggers?"
Peter opened his eyes and looked thoughtful, staying where he was so Sam couldn't see his thinking face.
"That silence sounds like your 'Sam once again has a stellar idea but I'm too stubborn to admit it' sort of silence, Webs."
Peter made noises of annoyed disagreement.
"And that sounds like 'Sam found me out but I have to be right so I'm gonna pretend to be mad about it'."
Peter glowered at Sam. Sam smiled cheekily back.
"I brought our bags, we can change and be catching bad guys before the next bell."
Peter grabbed his backpack from where Sam had nodded and pulled on his mask and webshooters.
"I'm only agreeing to this because today is a bank holiday and all the tourists are out. Not because you had a good idea, Buckethead."
Sam smiled back, pulling on his helmet.
"Whatever you say, Webhead."
-fin-
Notes: Peter tapped out "Thank you Buckethead" in morse code on Sam's chest. Anyways, hope you liked it Furdy!