Peter knew he shouldn't have gone to school when he woke up that morning and felt a headache creeping around his head, but he didn't want to let his partner down during the presentation. Even if he had a huge fear of public speaking. So, Peter got ready like every other morning and hoped that his headache wouldn't get any worse, but he's Spider-Man, he doesn't get breaks.

As Peter went through the day, his headache got worse and worse until it entered migraine territory. Finally, he made it to the last period of the day and the presentation period. By that time, it hit, his nerves were all over the place and his head hurt so much that he couldn't stand any light whatsoever.

As Peter stood in front of class he was a nervous wreck. He saw everyone looking at him and laughing. All the stress was doing nothing to relieve his migraine. After ten whole minutes of staring at his classmates he just couldn't take it anymore, so he ran.

He stopped in front of the trophy case a little way down the hall because he couldn't bear to take a single step more with his head pounding. He slid down the length of the case as he held his head and started to push on his head to try and alleviate the pain.

He didn't notice when his boyfriend picked him up or when they had entered a dark, empty classroom, but he did notice when he was sitting in his boyfriend's lap with his head tucked into the crook of his neck.

Peter clutched his boyfriend's shirt in a white knuckled grip and said, "S-S-Sam?"

Sam just shushed him and whispered, "You're fine, Webs. I got you. You're going to be okay."

All Peter did in reply was whimper.

"How about we do this," Sam whispered. "Take my hand and squeeze it once for yes, twice for no, and three times for maybe."

Peter immediately grabbed Sam's out stretched hand and squeezed once; yes.

"Ok, good. Did you take anything for the migraine?"

Two squeezes; no.

Sam sighed softly because he knew that even if Peter took something now it would have done practically nothing. "Do you want to try to take something?" he whispered in an angrier tone than he meant to.

One squeeze; yes.

As Sam carefully reached down into their bags that he brought with him, Peter painfully whispered, "I'm sorry."

Sam brought out a bottle of migraine relief pills and softly asked, "Why are you apologizing?"

Peter whimpered before painfully replying, "You're mad at me."

"No, no, no," Sam quietly, desperately said. "I'm not mad at you, Petey. I'm mad at myself for not catching this sooner." He popped the top off the bottle and shook out two pills. "Can you take them now or will you throw up?"

Three squeezes; maybe.

"Ok." Sam handed Peter the pills and a bottle of water and says, "If you feel as though you're going to throw up, tell me."

One squeeze; yes.

Peter lifts his head out of the comfortable position, downed the pills, and, almost, immediately returned to his position.

"Ok, now I want you to squeeze once if you want me to fly us home, twice if you want to wait it out here, or three times if you want me to walk you home."

One squeeze; flying home.

"Ok then. Flying it is." Sam went to place Peter down on the ground beside him, but Peter would not let go of him. Sam soothingly said, "Petey, I have to put you down so I can change into Nova without hurting your eyes."

After a minute, Peter reluctantly let go of Sam's shirt, but immediately after Sam changed into Nova he latched back on. No matter how much prodding to put the Spider-Man costume on Peter Sam could not get anything but the mask on. Finally, Sam gave up and told Peter to hold on and to keep his eyes closed.

Sam tried to fly as quickly and smoothly as he could as they neared their bedroom in Aunt May's house. He landed as gently as he could, but Peter still groaned from the impact. Sam placed Peter on the bed, removed his helmet and Peter's mask, and shut the curtains. As he went to go to the bathroom and grab water and a damp washcloth, Peter grabbed his wrist and groaned with the movement.

"I'll only be gone for a little while, Pete. I'm not going to leave you, I promise," Sam said with conviction as he went to pry Peter's hand off him.

"P-Please don't leave," Peter painfully, desperately said.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

With that, Peter slowly recoiled back onto the bed and resumed holding his head. When Sam came back and sat on the bed Peter immediately latched onto him.

As Sam carded his hand through Peter's hair he said, "I've got you. You're going to be ok. I love you, Peter."

As Peter slowly fell asleep in Sam's arms he mumbled, "Love you too, Buckethead."

THE END