sam wilson. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falcony) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2022-03-16 04:42 pm
falcony) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-03-16 04:42 pm
[ semi-open ] i'm gonna keep rollin' on
Who: sam wilson and various/ota.
When: march / into april.
Where: cadens, horizon, etc.
What: catch-all for plans, eclipse, event, etc.
Warnings: n/a but will be edited if need be!
various starters (both closed and open).
feel free to reach out if you'd like a specific starter!
![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
disarmingly
When: march / into april.
Where: cadens, horizon, etc.
What: catch-all for plans, eclipse, event, etc.
Warnings: n/a but will be edited if need be!
feel free to reach out if you'd like a specific starter!
OPEN. ( eclipse + player event. )
so - sam gets to work.
which, as it happens, is the right response and the right timing to have. it's not all that much later ( in the grand scheme of things ) that the eclipse takes place, and sam immediately jumps in to help. during the entire twenty four hours ( because he doesn't slow down enough to sleep, and only collapses once it's over ) you can find him just about anywhere, at the city gates helping those last few stragglers return in from the dark, guiding any lost children or others around the city itself. if you ever wanted to see sam in his captain america voice, this would be the night - directing and organizing and probably confusing a few guards by how well he knows the city despite. not being a member of their team.
once the eclipse is over, though, sam will end up taking a day to sleep before he's back out at it.
unfortunately for him, that will be the exact period of time in which his calm emotion ability will be acting up just a bit. this means that over the course of the next two weeks (until about march 25th), sam won't just be calming emotions but instead absorbing them into his person, with a heightened focus on any negative emotions that your character may have. the effect will be temporary (usually a few hours), but it will leave your characters feels calm all the same.
some places that you will find sam throughout the month will include: the market where he is a regular, running errands for neighbors and picking up food and/or materials for magpie, his landlady; the universities as he now knows a couple of people who are either attending classes or are looking for work, and it keeps him curious enough that he'll come by and check in; his inn aka the inn that magpie owns that sam lives in, and tends to collect other summoned to live in as well; or various other places. he's a busybody, so he's not hard to track down if you're looking for him! ]
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At least, at first. As the minutes had turned into a half-hour, the brief conversations had started to grow anxious. Even before the first hour had truly passed, that anxiety was starting to turn to fear. People questioned- a first in whispers, but then louder and louder- if this was another attack(?) upon the capital, and disconcertingly, Cloud had picked up more than a few people openly discussing if this was Solvunn's doing.
Dispersing them hadn't been easy. Panic was starting to set in, and it made the citizenry less compliant and more forceful, more stubborn- and Cloud's unit not exactly playing ball with getting off their asses and doing something didn't help.
He'd found himself unsupported, not backed up in the slightest when it came to convincing the populace that they needed to go home.
What did help, though? Sam.
Cloud, personally, had been amazed. That this guy- who he'd pegged as a behind the scenes type, suddenly emerged from nowhere and started directing people, even motivating the rest of the guards to get up and start escorting people back to where they belonged before their panic and confusion could escalate.
...And he did it a damn sight better than he ever could. That was for sure.
So it's on a rare day off that Cloud finds himself entering the same broken down, beat up old building that he'd visited some time ago, to see him. ...To thank him, he guessed- and also- well, actually, to try and learn a little more about him.
Without ceremony, he bangs on the door.
And he waits.]
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he does remember seeing cloud that night, however brief it had been. once he's in captain america mode, it's hard to slip back out of it, and the guards had all responded well enough. he remembers making a note to try and catch up with the kid after, but with everything piling on, it had slipped his mind.
it's another day or so before sam is back up to speed, back to work and checking in with the people he's used to helping. which also means that it's a stroke of luck that sam's caught up back in his apartment when cloud comes by, hands deep into the back of his storage cupboard, either trying to find something or organizing something else. that's where cloud is going to find him, as he bangs on the door. sam, from across the room, calls out a it's open and finishes up what he's doing, looking over only once the door's actually opened up. ]
Oh- hey man.
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It's... difficult, honestly, to describe. Kind of similar, at least in effect, to stepping out of an airship into the heat of a new climate- though there's no change in temperature in this situation to speak of, it's similar in the respect of stepping in something that envelops him utterly, permeates the air around him and-
It's a feeling, more than temperature. It's calm.
He doesn't overthink closing the door behind him. And he doesn't think twice about making his way through the apartment- through hallways and through doors and unseen areas of the apartment that normally, he'd bristle at even imagining himself exploring.
And as he stumbles upon Sam, he finds his voice relaxed, even.
He'd be suspicious if he even knew what was happening. Yet he does not. So...]
Came by to say thanks for what happened a couple days ago. ...That guy with the bird shield, that was you, right?
[A pause. And where Sam might expect, from his previous contact with Cloud, something cynical to follow...]
...It was really cool. And you really saved our asses. My CO would've lost his shit if they turned.
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still - cloud comes inside and seems to relax, and sam is glad for that. though...well, it's a strange feeling for him too, because sam doesn't feel that way at all, either. cloud enters the apartment and sam feels suddenly...haunted. heavy. cold. he blinks and pushes it away for now, turning to cloud when he makes it over and forcing himself through a smile (one that cloud probably can't read through even if he was looking). ]
That? Yeah- that was me. [ and, actually, sam thinks he remembers seeing him. there'd been so much happening that night he hadn't had that chance to say hi, and when cloud pauses he almost expects some snide comment about it to follow, but then he gets that and sam just feels himself smile - trying not to be taken aback by it, but unable to really stop himself, either. ]
Yeah? [ he grabs for a rag and wipes off his hands, turning to face cloud. everything feels a bit like he's wading through water, and the exhaustion hanging over him is a physical weight, but sam's pushed through worse (at least, that's what he tells himself).
so for now, he just kinda grins, crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter. ] Nah- you woulda figured it out. I jumped in but I'm also used to that. Did the rest of the night turn out okay for y'all?
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A few times he'd conjured lights into his fingertips to lead lost families back to the main roads, just to get to know their thoughts on things. It had been during one of those moments when he'd noticed Sam taking a much more hands on approach, barking directions at people and trying to herd them to safety.
Now it's a few days later.
Fandaniel sits at the bar at the inn. He doesn't live here but since talking to Jesper he's dropped by a few times to listen in on the latest gossip.
He looks up as Sam walks past and smiles a hollow smile.]
Ah, the great hero walks among the commoners.
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granted - he does live here, too. it's hardly a far walk. but he figures a drink might help him relax a bit and he knows most of the regulars by this point (which also means that if fandaniel has been by here enough times, he's most likely heard sam's name mentioned at least once or twice.)
the comment has sam pausing, mostly because it's...a little out of place. something about the tone. he turns and sees the hollow smile. ]
Sorry? [ he must not have heard him. ]
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He lost the ability to feel joy thousands of years ago. Or maybe he never had it to begin with.
What is there is amusement; cold, detached amusement.]
Was I being cryptic or does my voice not carry as far as I'd thought?
[Fandaniel shifts around in his seat to face Sam.]
I saw you during the eclipse leading the panicking masses to safety. Such a heroic sight! It nearly made me weep.
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all the same, sam turns to face him fully, a sort of odd not-tension to him as his eyes narrow slightly. he's currently in the place of trying to figure out if that had been an insult or if this guy is just like that. ]
Just doing my part. [ and there is the feeling again - the uncertainty, the feeling in his gut tightening just a bit more. at the same time, sam knows he can be a bit more diplomatic, so he pushes the feeling away. ]
Sorry- don't know if we've officially met. I'm Sam. [ he'll even offer a hand in greeting, just to be polite. ]
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And I am Fandaniel. Don't worry if you haven't heard of me, I am still new to these parts, I'm afraid.
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for now, sam just takes fandaniel's hand and shakes it, once. in the back of his mind he thinks oh, this guy but even that is pushed aside at the sudden, almost debilitating weight. the emotions that push through him make his knees feel almost weak, and before he actually has time to relax, sam is forcing a small smile. ]
No problem. Cool if I sit? [ his chest feels tight, something constricting around his ribs and throat. he forces himself to breathe through what feels like an unimaginable amount of dispair that rises around him, managing decently when he says- ] And don't worry, I uh- I'm usually better at meeting new people. Have you been out at the barracks?
[ he's doing his best and right now, he's still at a B. but that is also dropping. ]
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What settles into its place isn't a light, airy feeling of pleasant calm. To him it feels like emptiness. It feels like where he once felt despair he now feels nothing.
He frowns slightly.]
I have been to the barracks, yes. I have been everywhere in the Free Cities in fact but have not spent long in any one location.
Which may be why we have not met.
It is hard to properly meet a phantom.
Ah well. No time like the present!
bucky. near the end of the event.
part of him thinks it must have something to do with the eclipse. that there's some association that has the singularity acting up, acting off. he did get this ability back when he first entered the horizon, so it would make sense, but sam's not doing it. not for all of them. not for enough for this to be some kind of mess...right?
either way, it's been nearly two weeks of this. the first few days he'd been able to work through the worst of it (and by god, there were some worst of it). but it'd taken work. more work than sam really had in him, after the summit, the weeks of getting everyone back up and going, and then the eclipse. it wears at him, day by day, until finally he makes it halfway through the day before realizing that he just...can't do this. whatever this might be, it's too much for that day, and he's already feeling guilty for the various locals he's snapped at, or been short with, or just in general brought a bad mood.
he doesn't, sometime early after lunch, to just call the day a wash and head back home - hoping to god peter stays behind at the university for a little bit longer today, because sam just isn't sure he has it in him. he makes it through the door and onto the couch and lets the heaviness of it overwhelm him, falling onto the couch and pulling one of the pillows over his head, resisting the urge to just. yell into it for now. ]
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Something's wrong with Sam. He's observant. He picks up on things. It's a lifelong habit — made him a good Winter Soldier, made him a good sniper, made him a good older brother, made him capable of traversing his father's explosive moods.
Sam's not as much of a closed book as he wants to believe. Not to Bucky, not when he's not caught up in his own shit.
So guess who's already in Sam's place, all subtle and easily missed — especially with that pillow over his head. Hope you're ready to have the shit startled out of you, because suddenly: A Voice. )
You know those things go under, not over, right?
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and it's not a surprise this time, either. not exactly. rather, sam's exhausted. and he'd come home to escape having to do it for others. whether or not he's an open or closed book wasn't so much the problem today as it was he couldn't hold it back. every word, every movement, every single thing about the day felt like it was pushing him over the edge. the edge of what, he has yet to figure it out, but the cliffside is certainly there.
so when bucky does speak (because sam knows his voice almost immediately, knows it can only be him - that dry, that neutral, that way), sam tenses for only a moment before he forces himself to exhale - face still in the pillow, hands still gripping each side of the cushion. ]
Not today, Buck. Not in the mood.
[ and there is a sharp, jagged sort of edge to his words. something that feels a bit like it's cutting him alongside anyone else in the room. sam doesn't feel guilty for it, but he does push the pillow a little more firmly into his face. ]
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( He echoes, wry and vaguely deadpan. Watch ya boi stand up and idly stroll over Sam's direction to settle his ass on the arm of the couch by his feet. )
Funny, I don't remember the mood mattering all that much when you're therapizing me.
( Which isn't... necessarily true, Sam's pretty good at picking and choosing when to tread carefully and when to push. Bucky's just prodding because that's what he does.
Bluntly: )
Come on, you've been weird for days. Why are you eating your pillow?
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he feels bad - but he doesn't really know how to quantify it. depressed? angry? over what? these are the things he's been trying to figure out for the last couple of days, and the frustration of being unable to pinpoint any of it is where he is now. where he'd hoped to come back to his apartment and not deal with any of this for an hour, maybe two. where he could maybe be alone, for once.
which, of course, meant bucky would be here. (and starting about here is where sam is going to feel guilty about all of this - what he says, what he thinks, the whole nine yards) bucky, just. in his apartment. who won't get the memo. who won't leave. part of sam wants to turn into the couch and just ignore him and hope he goes away, but the other part - the part that flares up with that temper - is what wins out. ]
The fuck, man? [ sam jerks to sit up, all but slamming the pillow he'd just been holding over his face into the couch. he's furious, and while it's not entirely all due to bucky, it does feel a bit like he's opening up a dam, and letting all of it just rush out in one go. ] I just said I didn't have time for this. What's so hard to understand? [ floodgates: open. sam's voice is hard, louder than it really needs to be, and all of that is focused where bucky sits at the end of the couch. ]
If you want to bother someone, go find literally anyone else. I do not have the patience for your crazy today.
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It's been a minute since one of them snapped at the other like that, and it catches him off-guard. He reacts the way he always has when he's on the receiving end of a one-sided grievance — he closes off, his expression shifting into something blank and unreadable. Stoic, a nice thick wall. That's not a gift from HYDRA, that's a mask that predates the war. It's a Barnes family heirloom.
It's from that place of calculated neutrality that he studies Sam, a step detached from any impulsive angry backlash, processing.
Eventually, he goes with a steady: )
Then it's a good thing it's not my crazy we're talking about right now.
( He tries to keep his next follow-up question as non-confrontational sounding as possible. Whether or not he succeeds and comes across as earnest or as an asshole is a matter of perspective. )
What's your problem?
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no. that's not quite it. the truth of all of this is that sam is struggling to find footing, in where all this is coming from. in the why. he's no stranger to the emotions themselves, but when he tries to think about why, when he tries to follow them back to the source itself, the only thing he can find are things he knows he's dealt with.
flashes of riley, and of steve, cross his mind. moments of watching his hands turn to dust. of that first conversation with sarah, after the battle had been won. of bucky's face near the lake and then nothing, nothing at all. of john, god damn it. of course it would be him. and lamar, lamar dead, and the shield.
bucky's voice is steady when he speaks next, and the harsh sound that escapes sam is in direct opposition to it. because he doesn't laugh, doesn't even snort, but god he feels like he has to do something or he's going to go insane. ]
Yeah, a great thing. Fantastic.
[ and then, just as suddenly as it came on, all of that rushes out of him. but more than that, it's already rushed out. gone. empty. sam presses his palms into the sockets of his eyes, elbows on his knees, as he tries and press back against what feels like the worst migraine of his life. the pounding doesn't ease, but the rest of it does. the pressure, the weight, the dark - sam takes a breath and it's shaky, but not angry, and it's another moment before he finally speaks. ]
Shit. [ a beat, another breath. what's your problem? bucky asks, and while sam could probably take it as asshole, rather than earnest, he doesn't know if he has the energy to take it personally. ] I don't know. [ sam tries not to feel a bit torn open by that admission, laid bare. he tries to take another breath, tries to steady himself, echoes sentiments he's given vets for years when they're in the middle of panic attacks (is that what this is?). ] But it's been more than a week now.
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He goes for strategic, for contemplative. It's been more than a week — he turns over the events of the last ten or so days, looking for trends. Looking for probable cause. Steve is gone, but that's... it feels like that wouldn't hit quite like this. The two of them have been processing that for a long time now, even if the fresh reminder might have stirred up old wounds a little. He'd like to think that wouldn't be something that gets them cutting at each other anymore.
The only noteworthy thing with the same timeframe that comes to mind is — )
I've been teleporting backwards for a little over a week.
( Which might just be because he has no god damn idea what he's doing, but... maybe not. )
Anything else happen lately?
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no, losing steve was hard (sam's not sure it ever won't be, not completely) but it wasn't enough to take his knees out from under him. he's not sure would be, not to this degree. because he's spent years being better at this, at being self-aware enough to know, to handle this, to work through it. but this?
that's when bucky says I've been teleporting backwards. teleporting? sam's having a complete emotional breakdown and bucky wants to talk about how he can teleport? he pulls his hands away from his face, turning to bucky with anger and fury and pain that bucky for sure has never seen from sam before, considering sam's not ever sure he's felt it before. ]
What the- [ and then sam freezes, because bucky said backwards, and that's not correct. is it? sam's not sure, sam wasn't even sure he was aware that bucky could teleport at all, but he does know he's been to the horizon, and people can learn magic, so the logic of it does seem to connect.
the anger in his face drains just as quickly as it'd set in. ] Wait. That- [ sam's head spins a bit, thinking back to the people he's spoken to over the last few days, the hands he's taken, the people he's touched. is it magic related? could something be going wrong? sam looks down at his hands for a moment. he's never known the details of what it is he can do when he calms people down, but if bucky's magic is off, then what if...?
he reaches his hand towards bucky, palm up. ] Give me your hand. [ which, alright, comes off a bit intense but with the sudden potential of knowing what is causing this, he overwhelmed with an almost hope. ] No- no, nothing else happened, just give me your hand.
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Give me your hand; Bucky stares at him blankly.
-just give me your hand; he holds out the metal one. A second passes. )
Just kidding.
( He offers up the right instead.
Warily: )
Is this about to get weird? Because I didn't really plan for that today.
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just kidding
the look sam flashes him is a little harsh and a little unforgiving, but its cut short by bucky’s hand. the hand that sam then takes, wrapping his fingers around the other’s palm. ]
Then don’t make it weird.
[ has sam even done this for bucky, here? back in thorne, back when they were sharing their room, bucky had been the reason sam even knew he had this power, when the two of them had been woken up by one of his nightmares, and sam had reached over to grab his arm to try and ground him to the moment. he’d been the reason sam had figured all this out, had been able to practice enough to do it. but that had been almost a year ago, and it had been the other version of bucky.
sam closes his eyes and squeezes, once, calling on the ability now instead of whatever it was that had set it off before. and…well. whatever it is bucky’s feeling, no matter how forefront or background it may be, it will all still. calm.
and sam will feel it, like being dunked under freezing water. sam jerks his hand back, looking down at his palm as if he could see some clue as to what’s happening, before he lets out a shuddering breath and seems to deflate. ]
Fuck.
[ yup, bucky’s right. ]
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It's...
Something.
It feels like that place he could sometimes get to in Wakanda, when things were quiet and safe. When they were simple.
He doesn't get it quite as long as he'd like; Sam jerks back, and a brush stroke of concern changes the color a little. A beat passes, and then: )
Would you like to elaborate on fuck or are we just sticking with that?
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sam exhales again, rubbing his face with his hands as he finds his footing in all of it. in all of this.
would you like to elaborate on fuck? sam almost says no, almost, before he lets out a breath. ]
You know your teleporting thing? [ sam sounds tired, exhausted even, but he pulls his hands away from his face anyway and turns to the other man. ] You got it when you got out of the Horizon, right? The first time any of us go in, we get these abilities. Something about being directly connected to the Singularity- man, I don't know details of it, but across the board, any Summoned who go to the Horizon gets a kinda thing. Magic. Whatever. Mine... [ he's explained it before, considering how it's something that affects others he usually tries to before he uses it. it crosses into a weird consent thing for him if he doesn't, and honestly, somewhere in whatever it was he's just taken from bucky some of sam's own guilt is wrapped up in that now too. that he didn't explain it, not entirely. that he just asked for bucky to try it on and he did it.
he's explained it before, multiple times, and even still he finds himself fumbling over the words. there's a second there before sam just sort of. deflates. gives up trying to be careful about it. ] Chills people out, I guess? Or calms them down. Usually, it's a one-way street - I touch them, focus, and they feel calmer. You said you've been teleporting backwards? I think something's fucked with mine too. Over this last week, I haven't even had to try, but whenever I've touched someone I've been- [ his shoulders drop. if he was wrong about you then he was wrong about me. ]
I don't know- I guess I've been absorbing people's emotions instead of just calming them down. [ another pause, and then sam looks back to bucky again. a short glance, then away. ] Sorry.
: )
a typical evening after a tumultuous week and while he hadn’t experienced the magical effects running amok himself, plenty around him did. stephen, wanda, even sam. he steered clear enough away after wanda, some subconscious thing. he wasn’t a good liar, and sam was a familial sort of perceptive in very short order, and clearly run thin by his own things and while peter wanted to help, painfully so, he’d watched how others would come to sam, how emotions seemed to weigh heavy and heavier each time someone else came around, and — and well, considering it was his emotions that had careened wanda’s magic into reacting in the first place, peter had decided to stay away, slipping out of the apartment as others had come through, worried that something similar would repeat.
so he’d go about staying in the university late or working on schematics that may or may not be buildable just to make sure he keeps up with the concepts or practicing some semblance of magic he’s on the cusp of learning.
the events with stephen were — fine. they were what they were and it only stung a little bit. not enough to deter, and certainly not at the forefront of his mind when his run-in with wanda left him rattled. to be expected, maybe, when her powers had dug through his grief and hurt and entangled it with her own so thoroughly they’d sprinted through too many memories and it left him just a little too frayed despite the ardent efforts of being fine, turning over emotional scars that had barely closed anyway.
he was fine, though. the nightmares had almost stopped by now, too.
and in the end, he worries instead. it wasn’t anyone’s fault, what happened, but it implied this place was…interfering, somehow? is that it? he checks in on wanda whenever he can. he watches sam, relieved he doesn’t look so tired anymore. he ventures back to stephen, too. he tries to reach out to tony’s horizon one too many times and fails and tries not to think about it for too long.
one thought does cross his mind on that last part — you’d think it would be easier the second time around. it is, in a way. he knew this was borrowed time, here. but it is disquieting and disheartening all the same.
he wonders if sam is okay, when he doesn’t see steve around again.
so, yeah. it’s a typical evening and he gets home late (it’s nice to think of it in those terms) and passes by the kitchen, intent on going into his room. attention snags on the one currently setting the table instead. he starts, intonation pitched. ] Oh — hey Sam!
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two weeks, and a long list of people he's tried to help. enough that he doesn't exactly remember all of them, but he now knows why. ( he's not going to be able to forget fandaniel, the unending, unmeasurable dispair. or cloud, everything with cloud. ) the guilt he's still carrying after lashing out at bucky, the way he'd spent the last few days just locked away in his apartment.
sam's feeling better, now. more himself. more together. which also means that he's remembering - picking up on - some things he's missed. like peter, who has barely been home. peter, who sam should have been paying better attention to - and with the sinking feeling about tony, he can't stop worrying about. the decision to wait up for the kid isn't a hard one, and by the time evening rolls around, sam's cleaned out the kitchen, gone shopping, spoken a bit with mag, and made it back with long enough to fully wait until he heard him coming up the stairs outside. ]
Hey, Peter- [ is all he gets out when peter comes careening by, but it's apparently enough to get him to pause, turning back in. sam smiles, gesturing for the other seat as he moves to stand. ] I made dinner- sit down. It's been a sec since we caught up.
[ it is both not a demand, but also not quite a suggestion either. ]
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has it been that long? it's funny, how time feels so unreal when you're trying to run away from so many different things. its a little tightrope act, avoidance and over-engagement and he hadn't really realized how little he'd been home.
but the thing was — he couldn't help anyone with magic at the time of the eclipse, so he had to throw himself into the study of it instead, proving once again a self-sufficiency entirely necessary for anyone in their line of work. if only he could figure out something, if he could have theories and ideas and predictions to try in any effort to assuage the effects of anything similar happening again. he hadn't realized how much he hated the feeling of being so useless, frayed as his nerves are at the most recent re-lived reminder of it, concrete dust and smoke and red-stained hands.
besides that, still, reminders of a lack of tech are everywhere too and so it must be patience, over efficiency and familiarity of stark tech that's able to develop any little thing peter could think of. not that he'd have it back home at this time either but —
he has a shoulder bag heavy with books borrowed for the university, with a journal starting to get filled with schematics, and he's on the cusp of learning a spell on his own too — just a few more hours in his horizon, he thinks.
but sam derails the beeline to his room with a tone that isn't quite an ask and peter's stomach flips. searches sam's face for a sign of something being wrong wrong. concludes it doesn't seem to be.
peter considers the table. then back to sam. at least he looks a little less stressed, he thinks. ] Oh — um, that sounds great but, you know — [ a thumb pointed down the hall. ] — I have something to finish up? Maybe later? [ looking at the food set on the table, the guilt is almost immediate. ] But is everything okay?
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so sam tries to relax his expression - holding firm as much as he can, but no, nothing's wrong. or. well. nothing that peter might be worried about. and when peter offers excuses and tries to keep moving, sam just waits. waits for the question, for the worry to slip through peter.
he shakes his head. ] Everything's fine, but you are gonna eat. [ no, there isn't room for questions. sorry, kiddo. ]
Sit. You can finish that up after.
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so peter heaves a sigh, and let’s the bag slip off his shoulder. the thing lands on the floor with a solid sound of heavy tomes, and a rattle of pencils as peter approaches the table.
its an interesting rapport they have, and he’s — well, he’s endlessly grateful to sam. maybe that’s why it was so easy for the habits to form, since coming back.
down to whatever this is now, down to the tone and the not-quite request that mirrors something may had done just but a small handful of times.
he feels like a kid. that’s a complicated thread of thought, and he elects to ignore it. focuses instead on the dishes again.
peter’s hands find the back of the chair, drum against it before sliding in. ] Um — okay, well, thanks, yeah this does look great, [ what’s he so nervous about??
everything’s fine.
(tony’s gone); just fine (may’s death replayed by wanda’s magic); absolutely and entirely — (he’s never seen stephen so rattled) — fine (he couldn’t even help sam).
his smile is thin lipped, eyes and brows tipped up. ] So — what’s up? How are you?
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but then peter sighs, and drops the frankly terrifyingly heavy bag on the ground, and approaches the table. sam doesn't bother hiding the small smile when peter finally relents, which makes him the winner and he reaches across to push more of the dinner towards peter's side of the table.
there is still some anxiety in the kid, though, and sam can only imagine it has to do with their last two weeks. part of him wonders if peter knows, but another part of him knows he must. ]
Honestly? [ sam lets out a sigh of his own, reaching for his cup. taking a long drink and settling in to eat. peter's accepted the offer, he's staying for dinner, and sam moves forward like there was never a moment of hesitation at all. ] I'm freaking exhausted. Whatever's been going on with the Singularity has everything out of whack. But I think it's settled.
[ a beat, and then- ] What about you?
[ this is called conversation, peter. it doesn't get to be one sided. ]
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Yeah, [ peter nods, and bites at the inside of his cheek. ] Yeah, I noticed things were kind of off, before. [ noticed, he says with a tired little sigh exhaled slow, as if he hadn't been on the receiving end of wanda's magic, that chaotic whirl of scarlet and that pull of grief. of all that grief. or as if he hadn't been sent away by stephen strange, frazzled and angry, magic crackling and uncontrolled. noticed, because he left being unable to help either of them.
maybe that's the real reason he orbited around sam the past few weeks. maybe he just didn't want to watch anyone else react to whatever was going on and be powerless to do anything. maybe he was just exhausted. a sentiment echoed in sam now, and peter can only nod along, using the excuse of food to hide behind. ] You're feeling better though? I mean — I know you were really feeling it. And I know the others had their magic acting off, too. Do you think it had something to do with the eclipse?
[ questions, half a dozen words said in excess but the question still comes and peter still isn't sure how to answer it other than with a shrug, a dismissive little shake of his head. sam is too perceptive for his own good, and peter has a terrible poker face, eyes cast down briefly before remembering to flick them back up. absolutely not pensive! ] I'm okay. Definitely lots of things happening, huh?
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but for now, sam just. starts eating. let's the comfortable feeling of just having dinner settle in. he can tell that peter's been carrying something, whether it's guilt or worry or stress, but he also figures that the way it goes with any teenager (or, well, he's not really a teen anymore, is he?) is not to ask him right out. and part of him kind of hopes that if he talks about it, about any of it, maybe peter will just in general feel more like he can say...whatever it is he thinks he's hiding all that well. ]
Yeah. [ he answers, with a smile that is both relieved and a mirror of that exhaustion he just mentioned. ] A lot better. I can touch people without feeling every bad emotion they've ever had, so. [ a shrug, and then another bite, which he takes his time chewing through.
he nods, though, to answer the question. and then the nod ends up turning into a moment where he thinks, then shrugs. ] Might be the Eclipse, yeah. That was the only thing that really happened right before. But I'm also not like...up on all this Singularity magic stuff, so I don't know. Might need to ask Strange.
[ and oh, yeah, definitely not pensive. sam gives peter a few moments to follow up that not-answer with something more substantial before he decides to give it another go. ]
Just okay? You sure?