Sam was having a shit day.

Like, a really shit day.

In a fight with the Shocker today, he had not only managed to walk right into a trap, but also manage to lead his team into a trap and then was knocked unconscious. (And of course he had a nightmare about bunnies.)

Then, since his guilt wasn't enough, after seeing Danny unconscious in the cot across the room with bandages wrapped around his head and chest, Fury lectured him for at least an hour about responsibility and how even though Parker was supposedly the leader of the group, Fury was still counting on him to do everything right, make no mistakes, and order him a cheeseburger while he's out, couldn't he?

(So Fury didn't actually say that. Sam has a right to exaggerate.)

Also, one thing Sam forgot to mention. Once Fury's spiel was done, it was fucking 4 A.M. Once Danny was awake (and there was no way Sam was leaving Danny alone, because even though he liked solitude- the dude was unconscious and it was Sam's fault.) it was already 5 A.M. and time for Sam to get to the Parker house so May wouldn't notice his absence and he would have time to get on his patrol. Except "Aunt" May did notice, because clearly, Sam cannot sneak in anywhere.

So he had to make up an excuse about thinking he heard someone outside and he went to check it out and he felt awful because he hates lying to Aunt May because she's just so nice and everyone hates lying to her and besides, she's excellent at seeing through lies, his especially, and she's practically his own aunt and Sam just absolutely hates lying to Aunt May. And she didn't totally believe him, anyway, but let it go because the boy was clearly tired and though she wakes up early to do yoga every day, Sam certainly didn't and Aunt May wasn't about to make him lose any extra sleep. Which he didn't get anyway, because he had to get ready for school and for his patrol that he wished he could give to Peter just today but no, Peter hadn't gotten much sleep either, due to the Shocker and then a nightmare and Sam wasn't just going to dump patrol on him even if he had gotten more sleep than Sam, because Sam wasn't that mean. Besides, he understood how much nightmares shook you and Peter had a test in Biology that day anyway.

The only thing that didn't go wrong was no supervillains attacked the city that morning.

Things got better at school- ha. No, they didn't. Pop quiz in Chem and Algebra, and all Sam could think was "Why did I have to be smart enough to get AP classes?" before getting to work and failing both quizzes, with the promise to both teachers he'd study harder and the apology that he had a rough night and was really tired, too tired to focus. On top of that, his crush was awkwardly flirting with MJ.

Yes, his crush was flirting with Mary Jane Watson. (Trying to.)

Yes, there's only one person who awkwardly flirts with MJ.

Yes, that person is Peter Parker.

Yes, Sam has a crush on Peter Parker. (But no matter what Danny, Luke, and Ava say, Sam has never looked at Peter's ass while he was fighting evil, because that would be weird. And Sam is not weird. No matter what Danny, Luke, and Ava say.)

Maybe once. (Or every day.)

That wasn't the point, anyway. The point was that Peter was straight, like really straight, like at least 10,000% straight, and it was the typical closeted-gay-boy-falls-for-unfairly-handsome-straight-boy, and the only thing that made it semi-better was that Peter was in a cliché relationship too, nerdy-boy-falls-for-pretty-girl-who-happens-to-be-best-friend-of-said-nerdy-boy.

That's not really any consolation.

So Sam had to attempt to eat lunch hearing Peter tell MJ how to do this and that on her homework, and help her study, and it went on all day.

Was Peter trying to flaunt his incredible straight-ness?!

Well. It certainly seemed like it.

To make things worse, Luke wouldn't stop nudging him and making him run into Peter and everything was awkward and Sam officially decided he doesn't like Luke; Luke is mean.

"Sorry, Peter. Luke shoved me. Again." Sam apologized for the umpteenth time, and Peter brushed it off, laughing. "Like I've said the past billion times- It's fine, Sam!"

And the worst part of his day was even worse than everything else that went wrong combined.

Sam sighed and slumped down at "his" desk in Peter's room, glaring at his homework resentfully. Homework was stupid. He learned it all in class (or he would have if he hadn't fallen asleep), so why did he have to review it four hours later? He didn't hear Peter come in, so it shocked him when he felt someone's hands on his shoulders.

"Who-? Oh, Peter. Hi. I didn't know you came- what are you doing?" Peter's hands were skillfully relaxing the muscles in the back of Sam's neck and Sam would be a liar if he said it didn't feel fucking amazing.

"You seem tense." Because that was a great explanation.

"Yes. Good observations skills. Again, what are you doing?" Sam was trying to focus on labeling a diagram but fuck that felt good and for a brief moment Sam wondered what else Peter could do with his hands and oh crap if Sam didn't get his dirty mind to shut up he was soon going to have a problem below the belt.

"Aunt May taught me how to give people massages. And you seemed really tense. Oh, I'm sorry, I probably should have asked before walking up behind you and randomly touching your neck, I'm sorry, was that weird? Or awkward? Because if so, I'm really sorry, sometimes I-" Peter had a tendency to ramble on when he thought he did something Sam wouldn't want him to do and Sam just wished he'd shut up because he really didn't care and Peter had stopped massaging him and it was only semi-consciously that Sam pushed his shoulders back into Peter's hands.

"Peter, it's fine- damn you're good at that." And he was; Sam was about to start purring like a cat, which could make things a little awkward. After a few more minutes, Sam felt like melted rubber and Peter was obviously satisfied with his handiwork, judging from his smirk.

"Mmnneghhhnn... oh my God." Peter's smirk only grew wider.

"Like I said, you seemed tense. It didn't seem like you had the best day today." If Sam hadn't just had the best massage of his life (but unfortunately not the first... Kaelynn liked "testing out new techniques" that nearly broke his back), he would have stiffened up all over again. Instead, he just slumped.

"Not the best day... that's one way to describe it." Sam would have let out a dry chuckle but he didn't want to seem too much like Mr. Grumpy-Pants Wolverine. (Who was, by the way, very grumpy.)

"Do you want to... talk about it?" Not in the slightest.

"It's nothing. You don't have to worry about me." Sam mustered up a half-smile, only for Peter, but it didn't seem like he believed it anyway.

"Alright... just... you know, you can talk to me about... stuff. I know it seems like... I act like I don't care that much about you, but I do. You're my friend, Sam. And my teammate. I care." Friend and teammate. Yay. Friend-zoned and teammate-zoned. (The Teammate Zone? Is that a thing? It shouldn't be, what with Danny and Ava dating. That could make things awkward for them.)

"Wow, Webhead, that was smooth. And sappy." His half-smile turned into a smirk, because it was so much easier to play-fight with Peter. It helped him forget his heartache, helped him forget Peter would never like him back, and it felt like Sam was teasing his crush, and that was nothing new. It felt like laughing with someone just a little more than a friend, it felt like a light crush, it felt like love. But mostly, it felt like forgetting everything wrong. Unfortunately for him, Sam had always had a pretty good memory.

"Shut up." Peter smiled softly and looked down. "Aunt May wants me to practice yoga with her, do you want to come?"

"Well, as fun as that sounds, I think I'll pass." Actually, watching Peter twist and bend did sound like fun, but it would probably cause one of those problems Sam was thinking about earlier. Plus, he really wanted to be alone.

"Yeah. So much fun." Peter made a face, laughed, and left the room. Sam could finally focus on labeling the human skeleton, except he didn't want to. He'd rather be distracted by thoughts of Peter. (Much more fun.)

But again with his too-good memory, he remembered what day it was, and everything that went wrong, and sighed glumly. It looked like talking to Peter was going to be the best part of his day.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, reds and purples streaking the clouds, but there was at least an hour of sunlight left, and Sam decided he didn't want to be in the house anymore. He told Aunt May he was going on a walk since it was such a nice day, and he probably wouldn't be home for her delicious dinner and he was sorry. One lopsided grin and she believed him. (Huh, maybe she couldn't see through all his lies.) That grin slipped as soon as the door slammed behind him, and he pulled his hood up against the chill. It may have been the end of summer, but the nights were cold, and autumn winds were blowing already. Sam hadn't planned on walking anywhere in particular, but his feet carried him to a cemetery he didn't know existed.

A cemetery. Fitting.

After wandering along and reading random gravestones, (A few names stuck out. There were two Osbornes who died from a family disease- didn't Peter have a friend named Harry Osborne?- Gwen Stacy, died from a freak electrical accident- Sam didn't even know who that was, but she sounded like a pretty nice girl- and a Ben and a Richard Parker, died because of a gunshot and from a plane crash, respectively- same last name as Peter.) Sam couldn't ward off his depressing thoughts out of his mind. He kept checking his watch, wishing the time would never arrive. Eventually, he grew tired of walking and standing, but there were no benches in sight. Instead of sitting in the neatly trimmed grass (and possibly six feet above a decomposing body), Sam climbed to the top of the fifteen-foot fence surrounding the graves.

Only ten minutes left. The sun had gone down at least three or four hours ago. Sam didn't remember it getting so dark.

Sam couldn't stop looking at the time, and the stars, and as the minute hand clicked into place, a tear slipped down his cheek. 11:53.

The stars were bright. Every year, on this date and this time, they shone the brightest. Maybe not to anyone else, but to Sam, the suns that were so many light-years away, grew brighter and brighter until they were almost blinding, brighter than the sun the Earth rotated around, and at 9:53, Sam could barely see. Or maybe that was just his vision blurring with tears. But he could always find the brightest star. Not the North Star- not tonight. It was the star that shimmered three stars to the right of the moon. It was the most important star.

"Hey." Sam almost fell off the chain-link fence.

"Holy-!" He hadn't heard anyone climb up next to him, but there Peter was, barely recognizable in the dark, especially not with bleary, teary eyesight.

"Not the best day, huh?" Peter was quiet, almost teasing, but condolent, as though Peter knew what he was going through. As though Peter knew what this was about. But there was no possible way...

Sam sighed.

"No. Not the best day." Understatement of the year.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I-"

Yes, he did. He needed to talk about it. He felt dejected, he felt despondent... He felt alone, he felt lonely... But most of all, he felt fed up with having to be ok. Every year, on this day, he was strong for his mom and for Kaelynn. Then for the Nova Corps, and Gamora and Rocket Raccoon. He didn't want to have to be strong for Peter, too, when Peter didn't even know what was wrong with this day, this time. But he didn't want to be a burden. Truth was, Sam was insecure about needing help. When he couldn't do something on his own and he knew it, he was hesitant to ask anyone else for aid. He hadn't asked for support since... since before his dad left them. When his dad left to be Nova, suddenly he was the man of the family. He had to take care of everyone else. Of Kaelynn, of his mom... he was eight or nine then. Only eight or nine. Suddenly, Sam wasn't a kid. He was an older brother, he was the oldest child, he was the guidance. He didn't ask for help, he was the help. But now... Sam didn't even have to ask. Peter was reaching out to help him. It was... it was okay to not be okay. Just once. Just for now.

But he still had a problem gripping the helping hand Peter was holding out to him.

"Y-yes." Sam had a hard time believing the word had come out of his mouth. Peter only waited patiently for him to go on.

"But- but I can't. I don't want you to-" Before he had a chance to finish his apologetic excuse, Peter's finger was on his lips and oh how he wished there was a different body part on his lips like Peter's own lips or his- cough just his lips just his lips don't think about anything else this would be the most awkward time to get one of those problems.

"Shut up and tell me." Peter blinked, clearly realizing how contradictory he sounded, but he ignored his mistake and focused on Sam's eyes instead. Sam was still uncomfortable with sharing but he knew Peter wasn't going to let him slip out of this and that was kind of bugging Sam. Was any of this Peter's business? Not in the slightest. Why did he even care?

"It's okay. You can cry or get mad or whatever. I can take it." Peter's gentle voice was grating on Sam's nerves only for the reason that Peter probably didn't even care about Sam's feelings, he probably was just curious and wanted to know. (And Sam just knew he was being selfish and unfair towards Peter; Peter probably did care, that's why he was asking, and the fact that Sam was trying to blame it on Peter was only making him more mad.)

Sam looked down. He could feel his anguish melting into irritation and he didn't want to explode on Peter, none of this was Peter's fault, but it needed to be let out and Sam had always been better with harsh, loud emotions rather than quiet, teary-eyed emotions.

Sam knew he was about to blow up, but as much as he hated tantrums (he preferred the word "outburst") and as much as he didn't want to be mad and he especially didn't want to be mad at Peter...

He couldn't stop this eruption. He knew that if Peter so much as said one word...

"Sam?" You blew it, Peter.

"Alright, Peter, you wanna know why today isn't the best day of my life?" Sam's biting sarcasm almost hurt himself but Peter seemed unfazed.

"Where shall I start? How about... This morning, at 12 A.M, when I led the entire team into a trap? And I was the first to fall unconscious, so apparently instead of actually fighting the villains, you had to protect me?" The word protect came out scathing and cruel, and if Sam wasn't on a roll and wasn't so very... Sam-like, he would have apologized immediately to Peter. Instead, he kept plowing on.

"Then, after I wake up from a stupid nightmare caused by my stupid leporiphobia- and I don't even want to think about rabbits right now, okay?- I see Danny, bruised and bandaged, in a cot across from me, and it's pretty much impossible to take Danny by surprise, so I don't even want to know how that happened to him. And then, since we're only just getting started, Fury came in and lectured me for another hour, which really boosted my self-esteem. In case you somehow didn't catch the sarcasm, Fury made me feel awful about myself and like I totally let the team down- which I did, and I already knew I did, but he really didn't help." Sam wasn't about to stop- but it didn't look like Peter wanted him to. He was still unmoving, eyes sorrowful with understanding, and the anger lessened its grip on Sam... but not enough.

"Now, probably one of my favorite parts of the day- I got to lie to Aunt May!" Peter's eyebrows went up, but otherwise, his expression stayed the same, which was both infuriating and calming to Sam. In his frenzied exasperation, it only served to fuel the storm. It was as if Sam didn't want to calm down, but at the same time he wanted to stop ranting, to just talk normally to Peter about his bad day... Sam had so many conflicting emotions and it was easier to focus on the passionate, rough, heavy feelings.

"Yeah, I lied to Aunt May. I thought seeing Danny all beat up was the ultimate guilt trip, until I had to lie to your aunt, who is practically family to me ever since I had to move in with you because of the helicarrier crash. And can I just-" Sam took a deep breath that turned into a sigh.

"Aren't you lucky, Webhead, I'm about to admit one of my weaknesses. I'm really insecure. About everything I do. And maybe that was really obvious to you since you took a Psychology class your freshman year- and yes, I remembered that from the one time you mentioned it. Maybe you realized that I'm a textbook case who uses snark and sarcasm to cover up that I don't feel I can do anything right. That's why I turn everything into a contest, especially when I can win it. Your Aunt May was the only one who realized that, and I guess that's why she took me under her wing. And that's why she feels like family to me. Lying to her was kind of like losing my helmet. It hurts. And I don't know what to do after. That helmet is my life. Without it, I'm not a superhero. I'm worthless. Same way with family. Without someone supporting me, I'm nothing but a high school screw-up that has a slight talent for sculpting his mashed potatoes into a replica of the principal. Yeah. That's a handy talent. So lying to family? That's hurting them. Even with a lie about being a superhero. This morning, when I got back from S.H.I.E.L.D, she caught me sneaking in and I made up something just so she didn't know that I was actually fighting super-powered crime. To protect her. But it was still a lie. And it still hurt her. And it still hurt me. I hate lying. I'm sick of it." Peter. Was. Still. Undeterred. Even though Sam had been yelling at him for ten minutes straight, Peter was still sympathetic and sweet and it just. Wasn't. Fair. Peter should be mad at him. And he wasn't. This only made Sam more agitated. Peter should hate him by now.

"Urgh! Why don't you ever get mad at people? Why aren't you mad at me?" Peter's answer was short.

"Because I care." That sort of stunned Sam. Instantly, his brain started picking apart his words. Clearly, he said he cared about Sam, but did that mean as a friend? As a teammate? Did Sam just get friend/teammate-zoned again? Or did Peter mean as more? Sam shook off his thought. Peter was 10,000% straight, remember? And he always would be. He meant as friends. That's it. Sam focused on his awful day again.

"Uh- I- Anyway, then school came. I flunked two tests because I got two hours of sleep last night, and that was because I had been knocked unconscious, so that didn't really count. I got a detention, I realized I'm failing at least one class, and I just barely dodged spending detention in a classroom alone with Flash Thompson. And not to sound like a whiny bitch," it was probably way too late for that "But the person I like was flirting with the person they like all day long, and that person is pretty much the opposite of me." Finally, some emotion flickered onto Peter's face. He furrowed his brow and bit his lip, but Sam didn't really care why he did it. At least it was a reaction. It spurred him on.

"And you know what, Peter?" His anger was rising with every word and his voice trembled. "You know what? None of those things- not even all those things combined got even close to the worst part about today. None." He couldn't tell how long he had been growling and yelling at Peter, but it was getting really dark and something about everything- his day, the ranting about his day, Peter's face that was expressionless again, wanting to be angry, wanting to be calm, being tired- everything was adding up and Sam was about to snap, he was about to fly off the handle and probably do something he'd regret to Peter in his fury.

"The worst thing about today?" His voice was even and cool with bitter hurt. He had already lashed out at Peter, but he was about to really blast Peter. He was looking for a real reaction. His anger had completely taken control, and he knew something was going to happen that he was going to regret, but for now, he didn't care.

"The worst thing about today is that today is the anniversary of my father's death."

He had meant it to come out scorching, withering, searing its way into Peter's mind and heart but his voice had cracked on the second today and suddenly he was crying and he couldn't stop and if Peter wasn't holding him then he would fall off the fence, but Peter was, Peter was hugging him in his comforting embrace and Sam was crying. When was the last time he had cried? Real, true tears? Not since he was eight or nine. That was over seven years ago. It wasn't silent weeping, but it wasn't loud, gasping sobs, either, it was just heartbreaking crying. Tears streaming down his face, he felt small, he felt weak- but he felt protected. Peter was a shield for him, a shield against the world and the heartache. Peter was the strong one, not Sam, and Sam didn't have to stand tall.

When was the last time Sam had ever felt this safe?

Soon enough, Sam realized Peter was whispering nothings into his ear, sweet comforts that didn't mean anything but quieted Sam and consoled him and suddenly- he wasn't crying. He was shaking, and he was breathing heavily, and he was listening to Peter's murmurs.

"Sh, Sam, it's ok, I've got you, you're ok, nothing can hurt you, you're ok with me, I've got you" over and over and over and mind-numbingly soothing.

Sam slowly became aware that Peter's eyes were leaking too, as his tears mixed and mingled with the drying tears on Sam's face, and Sam wanted to wipe them away because Peter shouldn't be crying, but Sam's hands were trapped between his and Peter's chest and he was sort of okay with that. Eventually, Peter held him out with bent elbows so Sam's face was only centimeters from his, and said, "We should go back home."

One look at Sam's watery blue eyes changed his mind. The word 'home' reminded Sam of his home in Arizona, with his mom and Kaelynn- and his dad, and Sam's eyes started to well up with tears, but he blinked them away. That might have been the first time Sam cried in seven years, but he was already done. It wasn't that he thought crying was weak and he didn't want Peter to see him that way, but if he cried again, Peter would start to mumble soft reliefs to him and he didn't think he could take any more of that. He'd start crying again, harder, and having your crush console you was tiring- and it was already too late because Peter was repeating his mantra over and over again and everything was okay.

Finally, his sobs receded and he could talk.

"11:56. That was the time the scout came to our house in Arizona. He had teleported, you see? So it was that exact time when he left the Chitauri's home planet with the news. My dad, Jesse Alexander, was dead. My mom was crying, but she wanted to know his time of death, and the man said it had taken a minute to get to my dad, a minute to take his body to Gamora, and a minute to teleport here, so 11:53 was the time of death. I've always remembered that. Kaelynn was only a baby, really, only three or four, and she had been asleep on the couch in the living room. I was... eight. Or nine. I hadn't been able to sleep, waiting for my dad to come back home, when I heard my mom answer the door. Intrigued, I slipped downstairs, and listened as the messenger delivered the news. My heart broke. My dad wasn't coming back home to tuck me in or kiss my forehead goodnight. My mom saw me peeking around the doorway and she rushed over to me, still crying, and picked me up. I didn't cry that night. I cried when the funeral was over and I was alone in my room. I haven't cried since until today." He had never told anyone about this night. When Fury had found him, he had to tell an abbreviated version so they could document it at S.H.I.E.L.D, but this was the first time telling anyone what really happened. Who was there to tell? His mom and his sister knew. He had left Carefree, Arizona soon after and trained with Gamora and Rocket Raccoon before S.H.I.E.L.D. picked him up. He didn't have any friends at S.H.I.E.L.D, all the workers there were really old (like thirty at least), and when the other S.H.I.E.L.D. trainees joined, he saw no reason to give them his entire tragic backstory. Sam looked up at Peter, almost scared. Peter was his friend and teammate, but would he make fun of him? Sam had just opened up to Peter the most important part of his life.

Peter looked dumbstruck, and then something like regret twisted his features. Sam couldn't help but notice that after Peter cried, his usually brown eyes had shimmers of green streaked with specks of gold and flecks of blue.

"God, Sam, I didn't know... I'm s-" This time, Sam stopped Peter's apology with a finger on his lips damn those lips are soft and shook his head.

"Don't you dare apologize. It wasn't you who killed my father." Peter nodded. Sam cocked his head, realizing something. Peter (obviously) didn't live with his parents. And he didn't have an uncle. Maybe Peter did know what Sam was going through.

Sam really didn't want to think about Peter having his own anniversary of someone's death. The thought wormed its way into his mind anyway, and his eyes filled with tears again. He opened his mouth to say something, but clearly Peter didn't want him to say that something, because he found there was something blocking his lips other than Peter's finger.

Peter's lips were on his.

Peter was kissing him.

It was slow, and sweet, and Peter's lips tasted just as sweet, and Sam was almost too shocked to kiss back. Then it ended (too soon for Sam's taste) and Sam's shocked cerulean eyes were staring into Peter's multi-color, searching eyes.

"W-what?" Sam could barely stutter out one word, but it seemed like Peter understood.

"I kissed you." Sam nodded.

"Yeah. I got that." Even with a weak and trembling voice, Sam was just as snarky as usual.

"Did you like it?" Was that even a question? But Peter seemed to genuinely want to know.

Sam nodded shakily, heart fluttering.

"Can I do it again?" Did he have to ask?

Another imperceptible nod.

And another soft kiss. It was almost too perfect- there was no way anybody on Earth had such amazing lips. But here Peter was, and Sam wasn't complaining. Again, the kiss was too short, but Sam was okay with just looking at Peter and marveling over the fact that that just happened.

"Peter?" Their foreheads were touching, they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Mm-hmm?" Peter seemed tired, and for good reason- it was pretty damn late and Peter had gotten three hours of sleep, but when Peter was tired it was cute, and again, Sam wasn't complaining.

"Are you my boyfriend?" Peter considered for a moment.

"Do you want me to be your boyfriend?" Sam smirked.

"Duh."

"Okay. I'm your boyfriend."

And suddenly, Sam's day wasn't totally shit. Today may have been one horrible thing after another (on the anniversary of his father's death, too) and Sam regretted every moment of it until less than a minute ago, but Peter kinda made up for it.

He checked his watch. 11:59.

YOU CAN'T SAY I DIDN'T UPDATE BY THE END OF THE WEEK. 11:59 ON THE LAST DAY, BABY!