Sam received his first scarf about a week after he first complained of the cold. It was long and sloppy, but soft and cozy, so Sam wore it nearly every day.

The team gave him odd looks at first, but didn't say much.

The hat he found next was much neater, and even had a little pom-pom ball. Like the scarf, it was blue, but it was a little tight on his head, which caused a problem when Sam had to dash to school, but he lived with it.

One night at the library (Ava had dragged him along), he was wrapping the scarf over his arm, over and over, mostly trying to stall.

"Sam," Ava hissed, "will you at least pretend like you care about your grade?"

He pouted, but wrapped the scarf around his chair anyway.

"Where did you even get that thing?" the girl asked, looking up from her English paper to give it a strange look.

"I dunno," Sam shrugged. "It just kind of... showed up one day. Don't be mean to my scarf."

She rolled her eyes. "When you get a sweater with three sleeves, let me know."

The sweater that showed up the next week only had two sleeves (which he shoved in Ava's face with a smirk), even if the arms were a bit long. He had no complaints though, because they proved to be excellent weapons of mass destruction every time Peter got on his nerves. Which was a lot.

Webs only got annoyed a few times, and once he even tied the two sleeves together. Sam had to chase him throughout the lunch room to get him to untie it, because the rest of the team was too busy laughing.

He ended up getting a pair of mittens, but after January, the little presents stopped coming. He understood, of course, because the winter season was almost over, and really, what else was there? Socks?

On second thought, Sam would like a pair of socks. But he didn't have a clue as to where the mysterious items had even come from, let alone who made them. The only person he knew that could knit was Aunt May, but she didn't have access to the Tricarrier.

Maybe he could get her to make him matching socks, though. That would be nice, and it would complete his collection of soft and cozy things.

So on Saturday afternoon, after training, he went with Peter to play (read as: destroy him in) video games. They were halfway into February, and the weather was uncharacteristically warm, so Sam had just settled for his hat.

"You know you wear that thing almost everyday?" Peter pointed out.

"I like it," Sam defended.

"Even that thing?" Peter flicked the pom-pom with a laugh, and Sam swatted his hand away.

Of all days not to wear his sweater.

"That's the best part of it, Web Head," he insisted, using a duh voice. Then, testing his limits, he asked, "What's the matter? Jealous someone else gives me presents?"

Peter flushed pink, and looked away. "Of course not, Bucket Head."

They had reached Peter's house, but the door opened before they made it to the front step. Aunt May was walking out, a helmet tucked under her arm and a duffle slung over her shoulder.

"Oh, Peter, Sam," she greeted. "I left a note, but there's leftovers in the fridge for tonight, and money for pizza tomorrow." As she passed, she kissed Peter's cheek and reached out to ruffle Sam's hair before she noticed the beanie. "Oh, Sam! He did give you the hat."

Peter froze, and Sam looked at her, puzzled. "Who?"

"Peter," Aunt May said,motioning to her nephew. "I know he says he didn't like the class I forced him into a few months ago, but I don't think he's half bad, do you?"

"Wait-"

The cab on the curb honked, and Aunt May sighed, before continuing on. "Have fun this weekend, boys!"

Then she was gone, and Peter looked like he wanted to absolutely die.

"Parker, did she just say you made the hat?" Sam asked. "And... and the scarf, and sweater, and mittens?"

He kicked at the ground, and his eyes darted everywhere but at Sam. "I mean, I remembered you said you got gold easily, and the class really wasn't that bad, so... yeah."

Sam grinned, and, fighting, his own blush, leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you."

Peter's face was scarlet, and he gave a sheepish smile. "Um, y-you're welcome."

"But you know," Sam couldn't help but smirk as he led Peter the rest of the way into the house, "I could do with some socks. Ooh, or a blanket."

Peter blinked, and after confirming with himself that was actually serious, he laughed. "Yeah, we'll see, Bucket Head."