[ the motions are secondary, through the swiftly rising ringing in pete's ears. his question had ended up muffled by sam's shoulder, a quick and steadfast movement and he'd be embarrassed to say how tightly he holds on to someone he's only known for a few weeks. how much it takes for him to not burst into tears because it's been some very, very long weeks and sam's openness makes this better and worse.

when he pulls away, straightens up and tries to take another step back - instinctual and polite maybe - hands land on his shoulders and he remains rooted. peter takes a deep breath, peering up. his heart is hammering, and he'd think it's his spidey-sense screaming something if not for the fact that they're still too groggy to be doing anything but tingling belatedly.

sam is the observant type, peter's learned that quick. so when sam looks at him like he's doing inventory, it's impossible not to wonder what he's seeing. he's certainly changed since the last time. he's older, the bags under his eyes a bit more static, face sharper, posture straighter, boyish softness replaced just a little bit more, by age and loss and fight. he's not a good liar, never has been, eyes cast down. suddenly, the groceries set on the ground are very, very interesting. ] Just a question, I guess? I don't know —

[ a short nod, hands curled into loose fists at his side. focus, peter. ] Yeah, yeah I woke up there this time around. There was a whole weird, um, welcoming committee.

[ throat cleared. productive conversation, right. ] How long has it been, since I was here?