[ it had been a few days. a few long days, since geralt had come back with sam's unconscious body in tow and it had, admittedly, been no time for questions. no time to ask about what happened, really and while geralt provided some sort of vagaries, enough to placate peter's incessant panic, it had left too many unanswered questions.
when things had finally settled enough — after sam had time to heal, and after peter had slept for what felt like days after his participation in the free cities' intervention efforts, headache finally letting up, that was when peter found himself drifting back through sam's apartment, seeking him out, to check in.
geralt hadn't shared much else after that; only that he was injured in his dream and that sam healed him. only that they went looking for something out there in the desert.
not for the first time, peter had been struck with a suffocating sort of feeling — one the waking nightmares from days before had been quick to twist, to sharpen out despite his best efforts to shake them. powerlessness. he had to help, he wanted to, he had a responsibility to. can't help but think, in the way that a restless mind tends to spiral, that if he'd been there, if he knew how to help more, then maybe things would have gone differently.
its a self-centered thought, but maybe people like them — given great power — are cursed by this inevitability. by the what-ifs of their involvement.
he isn't sure what exactly his intention is, other than to make sure sam is okay. sam, who has so many people here that care for him. sam, who cares, who always leaves him meals that he remembers to eat at 2:30 am. sam, who peter wishes would rely on him just a little bit more, because he doesn't need to take care of everyone alone.
pot, meet kettle.
peter's knuckles rasp on a surface he passed by. ] Sam? Hey, it's Peter! Do you have a second?
[ it's been just long enough that sam has started to worry. and that's saying something, between him being out cold, between nadine helping him get back on his feet, between the days he spends outcold, between the first few days of getting back to himself where he's half asleep and half trying to reassure those who come to find him. it has been long enough, where sam's up on his feet more than he probably should, where he's healing a little more each day, where he feels more and more himself, that he notices peter...isn't there.
between everything else, it's a worry that falls to the wayside. if there's anything sam knows about the kid, it's that he can take care of himself. still, sam's thoughts drift to him - if he's eating, what he's doing, how much he must be beating himself up over the whole thing.
but then sam reminds himself that tony is here. that there are people that peter parker actually knows from home. how he's probably had plenty to keep himself busy. it doesn't make him feel any better, per say, but it does keep him moving. keeps him from packing up a lunch and heading to the university himself. enough that it keeps him in bed, simply...wondering.
when the knock comes, sam looks up, pulling himself out of whatever he'd been busying himself with. peter, sam smiles a little to himself. ]
'Course, kid. Come in. [ and then, once he has- ] You okay? Haven't seen you around.
[ it's been long enough that sam wasn't the only one starting to worry. peter was worried just the same about the amount of time that had passed between his own check in.
but it had been circular arguments, one over the other. he wants to give sam space. there'd been a lot of people checking in (and yes, he had been amongst that number) but his anxieties hadn't let him linger. and sure, maybe the whole nightmare situation and the power necessary to stop it had left him haggard and exhausted and no, maybe he hadn't been eating as well as he should, hovering around every person that he has convinced himself he needed to keep track of, but are any other them?
that may be as lousy an excuse as anything else, but if asked, it's what he's going with. it's been busy. tony needed help with his tinkering, and peter wanted to keep doing something. anything, other than focusing on the fact that he was operating on so little information all the time. that he was so static, even surrounded by all these second chances. ]
I'm okay! [ peter rushes to say, smile genuine across his face. relieved, as he gives sam a once-over, checking in again on how he's doing, how he's moving around. ] I'm sorry I haven't come by earlier. I guess things have been — well, you know.
How are you though, Sam? Are you — I mean, I'm glad you're moving around! But should you be? [ peter's brows pinch, a near frown, as he steps in to hover conversationally closer. ]
[ peter rushes into i'm okay and sam's brow arches, not at all convinced. but he's had enough of his own worry thrown back in his face over the next few days that he won't push it, knowing that he's made this bed and he will have to lay in it, and his visitors have had every right to come and hover. to be anxious, and to put those anxieties anywhere they could.
if anything, sam can at least tell that peter's smile is genuine, that the relief isn't faked. but then, of course, he's in on the apologies and sam is already shaking his head, holding out a hand. ] No, no, don't- don't apologize. It's been insane here, and I'm sure it's still insane out there after those nightmares.
[ there's a question there, more specific, but still not stated. how did you do? because the only frame of reference sam has right now is geralt's body, nearly split in two, bleeding out over the sand. if anyone back in the city...
no. it doesn't matter. he wasn't here, and he can't let the guilt of what he could have done eat at him. he wasn't here, he made that choice, and that was that. ]
I'm fine. [ is his first answer, and he means it. he's not good, but he's better, a lot better. ] Nadine gave me the go-ahead to take a few laps around the room. I'm trying to build strength back at this point, but I'm keeping it slow.
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backdated, coming to reverse uno your ass
when things had finally settled enough — after sam had time to heal, and after peter had slept for what felt like days after his participation in the free cities' intervention efforts, headache finally letting up, that was when peter found himself drifting back through sam's apartment, seeking him out, to check in.
geralt hadn't shared much else after that; only that he was injured in his dream and that sam healed him. only that they went looking for something out there in the desert.
not for the first time, peter had been struck with a suffocating sort of feeling — one the waking nightmares from days before had been quick to twist, to sharpen out despite his best efforts to shake them. powerlessness. he had to help, he wanted to, he had a responsibility to. can't help but think, in the way that a restless mind tends to spiral, that if he'd been there, if he knew how to help more, then maybe things would have gone differently.
its a self-centered thought, but maybe people like them — given great power — are cursed by this inevitability. by the what-ifs of their involvement.
he isn't sure what exactly his intention is, other than to make sure sam is okay. sam, who has so many people here that care for him. sam, who cares, who always leaves him meals that he remembers to eat at 2:30 am. sam, who peter wishes would rely on him just a little bit more, because he doesn't need to take care of everyone alone.
pot, meet kettle.
peter's knuckles rasp on a surface he passed by. ] Sam? Hey, it's Peter! Do you have a second?
no subject
between everything else, it's a worry that falls to the wayside. if there's anything sam knows about the kid, it's that he can take care of himself. still, sam's thoughts drift to him - if he's eating, what he's doing, how much he must be beating himself up over the whole thing.
but then sam reminds himself that tony is here. that there are people that peter parker actually knows from home. how he's probably had plenty to keep himself busy. it doesn't make him feel any better, per say, but it does keep him moving. keeps him from packing up a lunch and heading to the university himself. enough that it keeps him in bed, simply...wondering.
when the knock comes, sam looks up, pulling himself out of whatever he'd been busying himself with. peter, sam smiles a little to himself. ]
'Course, kid. Come in. [ and then, once he has- ] You okay? Haven't seen you around.
'its been 84 years' part i
but it had been circular arguments, one over the other. he wants to give sam space. there'd been a lot of people checking in (and yes, he had been amongst that number) but his anxieties hadn't let him linger. and sure, maybe the whole nightmare situation and the power necessary to stop it had left him haggard and exhausted and no, maybe he hadn't been eating as well as he should, hovering around every person that he has convinced himself he needed to keep track of, but are any other them?
that may be as lousy an excuse as anything else, but if asked, it's what he's going with. it's been busy. tony needed help with his tinkering, and peter wanted to keep doing something. anything, other than focusing on the fact that he was operating on so little information all the time. that he was so static, even surrounded by all these second chances. ]
I'm okay! [ peter rushes to say, smile genuine across his face. relieved, as he gives sam a once-over, checking in again on how he's doing, how he's moving around. ] I'm sorry I haven't come by earlier. I guess things have been — well, you know.
How are you though, Sam? Are you — I mean, I'm glad you're moving around! But should you be? [ peter's brows pinch, a near frown, as he steps in to hover conversationally closer. ]
wraps you up!!!
if anything, sam can at least tell that peter's smile is genuine, that the relief isn't faked. but then, of course, he's in on the apologies and sam is already shaking his head, holding out a hand. ] No, no, don't- don't apologize. It's been insane here, and I'm sure it's still insane out there after those nightmares.
[ there's a question there, more specific, but still not stated. how did you do? because the only frame of reference sam has right now is geralt's body, nearly split in two, bleeding out over the sand. if anyone back in the city...
no. it doesn't matter. he wasn't here, and he can't let the guilt of what he could have done eat at him. he wasn't here, he made that choice, and that was that. ]
I'm fine. [ is his first answer, and he means it. he's not good, but he's better, a lot better. ] Nadine gave me the go-ahead to take a few laps around the room. I'm trying to build strength back at this point, but I'm keeping it slow.