Chapter Text
When Sam’s phone beeps at 2am he figures it has to be some kind of emergency. Why someone is texting him for an emergency is beyond him, but there’s no other possible reason someone would wake him up at this hour right?
Wrong.
Peter: hey man i know its late but i just cant get this out of my mind, like u know how we dream and dogs dream and I think cats do too idk but like do beavers dream?
Sam sighs, his eyes drifting closed as he thumbs back his answer.
Sam: go to sleep asshole
Peter: but do beavers have dreams sam?
Peter: like
Peter: do u think they have ambitions?
Sam: oh my god parker shut up and GO TO SLEEP
Sam groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. He wonders if putting on the Nova helmet and flying over to Parker’s place to shut him up is worth a shot, but at this point the thought of getting out of bed is too terrible to even entertain for more than a second. Also he’d probably end up punching the idiot and waking up aunt May.
Peter: do you think they have hopes?
Sam: I will kick ur ass webhead
Peter: what would a beaver evn hope 4?
Peter: a new dam? A better life? Financial stability?
Sam: I will kill u and hide ur body in space
That seems to have worked. Sam gets five minutes of blessed silence, and finally he feels like he’s about to drift off when suddenly his phone goes off again.
“Ughh Peter I swear to god if this is about beavers…” he mutters to himself, groping around in the dark for his phone. He shouldn’t even bother checking, but at this point it’s like morbid curiosity.
Peter: would it be sick for a beaver to dream of getting away from the river and opening up their own beaver tail shop? u know, like the pastries they sell in canada?
Sam: im never speaking 2 u again
Peter: bc its not technically a real beaver tail
Peter: and they r delicious
Sam growls, burying his face in the pillow. He decides that Parker is the worst boyfriend in the entire universe while trying not to scream as he hears the dreaded ding of a new text coming in.
Peter: Ive come to a conclusion
He’s horrified to find himself morbidly curious. Did Peter Google beaver dreams? Who would have done a study on beaver sleep patterns? What possible reason could scientists have had for that? Unless scientists are all just horrible asshats like Peter and did it to piss off their significant others…
Peter: a beaver selling beaver tails would be kinda quaint and charming
With his face back in the pillow Sam screams.
Okay, new tactic.
He switches his phone to silent, and places it face down on the bedside table. He’s gonna ignore him. He’s going to ignore him and then tomorrow he’s going to kill him.
He stares at the ceiling. He stares at his hands. He wishes Peter was here so he could smother him to death.
He can’t sleep. Not when he knows Peter is there… texting about beavers. He can practically feel the texts coming in. He can practically feel the beavers dreaming their stupid beavery dreams.
After a few restless minutes Sam picks up his phone and has to thank the universe that he doesn’t have super strength, because if he did he would have crushed the hell out of it. He’s going to need his phone, and his arsenal of embarrassing blackmail pictures, in the near future if Peter keeps this up.
Peter: Sam?
Peter: u there?
Peter: sam pls I swear im not into beaver cannibalism
Peter: sammmm
Peter: saaaaaaam sam sam sam
Peter: what do beavers dream of when they take a lil beaver snooze
Fuck this.
He dials Peter’s number, fully planning to yell at his boyfriend until his head explodes, but when Peter answers he just ends up making a pathetic whining noise instead.
“Sam? Are you okay?” At least Peter sounds genuinely worried. He may be a limp threadbare dishrag that someone used to wipe their ass, but he cares. That’s something at least.
“Stop. Just stop. Stop it,” he whines, and Peter is just enough of an asshole to chuckle quietly.
“Okay okay. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were that tired.”
“You did too jerk,” Sam says, his eyes already starting to close now that he knows there won’t be any more texts.
“Yeah I did. Are you pissed at me? Do you want me to come over?” Peter asks, that little hint of concern back in his voice. Or maybe Sam is so tired he’s imagining things.
“Yes I’m pissed. I’m very pissed. But no don’t come over Parker, I’m so tired.”
“Okay okay…. g’night So Tired. Sweet dreams.”
“Wazzat a dad joke?” Sam groans, already losing the battle with consciousness. “Hate you. So much.”
“Love you too Sam,” Peter says, and hangs up.
When Sam finally falls asleep he dreams of beavers.
……….
The Midtown High hallways are full of annoyed and half asleep students the next morning, but none so annoyed and exhausted as Sam Alexander. He stalks through the halls, parting the crowds despite his short stature through the sheer force of his tired glare. He’s pretty sure the dark circles under his eyes have circles of their own, and he can’t even bring himself to care that his shirt is inside out.
He manages to track down exactly the ass house he’s looking for, crowding him back against the lockers like a tiny ball of rage. “What the hell was all that beaver crap about last night?” Sam asks, shoving Peter’s shoulders.
“Morning to you too sunshine,” Peter says, beaming down at him. He looks completely at ease despite his overly tired murderous boyfriend getting all up in his space.
“I’m serious Parker. Why? I need to know why.”
“There was a documentary on beavers on tv last night,” Peter says with a shrug, a wicked grin spreading on his face and filling Sam’s heart with fear. He cringes on instinct, somehow knowing before he even opens his mouth again that whatever Pete is about to say is going to be bad.
“It was the best dam show I’ve ever watched.”
Sam doesn’t kiss him for a week.