Christmas is like 4 months away? Why am I thinking of Christmas fluff in August?
Also, this isn't the peanut allergy fic that I promise I'm writing, but I hope you enjoy this in the meantime :)

"Sam," Peter sighs, "what the hell is this?"

"What's what?" Sam asks. He's in the living room, sprawled out across their couch and watching some Hallmark Christmas movie Peter can't even imagine the name of. His voice is still thick with sleep, and he keeps rubbing his eyes as he tries to focus on the TV.

"This thing on our kitchen table. Where did you even get an Elf on the Shelf?"

Sam perks up, and almost runs into the kitchen. "Oh, man," he laughs, "I almost forgot about that. Do you like it?"

The elf is drinking out of a bottle of maple syrup with a blue silly straw. Peter thinks it's hilarious, but just shakes his head and kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. "I think it's cute. So are we taking turns hiding the elf? 'Cause if so, I need to think of something."

"No, I'll do it," Sam rushes to say, rubbing the back of his neck, "it was my idea, and I have, like, a bunch of ideas, and a Pinterest board and stuff."

Peter laughs. "Well, if you're already so prepared. Thanksgiving was two days ago, though, isn't this supposed to last until Christmas?"

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, we used to do it for Kaelynn when she was younger, so trust me, Webs, I got this." He salutes, and then goes back to his Christmas movie. Peter can only shake his head.

He also takes a picture and sends it to MJ.

The next morning, the elf is taped to the door. When Ava, Luke, and Danny come over, they laugh and try to pester Sam to figure what his next one will be, but he just blushes and keeps his mouth shut. Peter promises to send pictures of each morning.

"Awe, man," Luke says, "why didn't we ever do that on the helicarrier? Can you imagine the possibilities?"

"It would be entertaining," Danny smirks.

"Ooh, you would've had to put an eyepatch on it!" Peter laughs. "Fury would love that."

Ava snorts. "Are you kidding? He'd probably get an elf for each of us, and throw them out the window."

"Peter and Sam for sure," Luke snickers.

"Hey!" the two boys shout, but don't deny it.

The next morning, the elf has an eyepatch, and Peter laughs so hard, Sam has to shut him up with a kiss.

They take a lot of pictures of that one.

Over the next couple of weeks, Peter wakes up to the elf climbing the Christmas tree, making snow angels with powdered sugar, taking a selfie, and - Peter's personal favorite - hanging upside down from the ceiling with a little paper Spider-Man mask taped over his face.

"I don't know how you're going to top this one," he tells Sam, taking a picture as the elf swings on its string of web. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I've ever seen."

Sam laughs at him, and comes up behind Peter to wrap his arms around his waist. "I think I'll be okay. There's only two weeks until Christmas, and I'm saving the best for last."

Peter tenses. "There's only two weeks until Christmas?" he asks, turning in Sam's arms to give him a panicked look.

Sam narrows his eyes. "Who did you forget?"

"MJ," he answers, pushing away from Sam, and rushing around to look for his shoes. "Crap, crap, crap. There was this old, vintage looking voice recorder I was going to get her, like when we were kids, and it was on sale, and now it's probably not-" He hops on one foot, struggling to put his right shoe on, and Sam can only shake his head. "Don't give me that look, Sam, you should have - ow - seen this coming." Peter falls, landing face first on the ground.

"I saw that coming," Sam smirks.

"Har har," Peter glares, pushing himself back on his feet. "Now help me, so MJ doesn't disown me as a friend."

Sam actually goes to bed earlier than Peter, so for the life of him, he can't figure out how Sam is doing the elf thing. He doesn't wake up early, either, and on the rare instances he does wake up before Peter, Sam spends his time kissing him until he wakes up.

"Alright," he says, staring at the elf, who is zip lining across the kitchen with a candy cane, "how are you doing this without me noticing?"

Sam flips a pancake. "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you."

"Yeah, okay," Peter rolls his eyes. "Seriously. Is someone helping you? It's Rocket, isn't?"

His boyfriend gives him a flat stare. "No, Rocket is not breaking into our apartment just to hide an elf. Whether or not he's breaking in for any other reason is up for debate."

"Wait, is he?"

"No, Peter, he is not."

"Okay, then how?" he presses.

Sam bites his lip. "Alright, I'll tell you. But you have to come closer."

Peter narrows his eyes in suspicion, but leans in closer. Sam stands up taller, stepping closer to whisper in his ear.

A hand comes up, and covers the left side of Peter's face with flour. He stumbles back, staring at Sam in shock, who only laughs and turns back to the breakfast he's making.

"I can't believe you would betray me like that," Peter gasps, scrubbing at his cheek.

"You say that every time," Sam reminds him. "Now, go set the table."

"Only if you tell me how you're hiding the elf."

Sam waves his spatula at him. "Set the table, or I'm feeding your pancake to the pigeons."

Christmas Eve morning, Peter wakes up to find the elf sitting innocently on the bookshelf, his little feet dangling over the edge.

"I guess today's the last day for this little guy, huh?" he asks, taking the final picture.

"Well, not the last day," Sam says, playing with his phone. "There's still-" He stops.

"No way," Peter says. "I get to do it next year. I've already got my days planned out."

Sam laughs, sounding a little forced. "Yeah, okay, you can take over next year."

On Christmas morning, Peter wakes up to soft kisses, and Sam in a Santa hat. "Merry Christmas, babe."

"Good morning," he mumbles, clumsily kissing back, before snuggling back into his pillow.

"Come on, Pete, get up," Sam urges, grabbing his hands and pulling. "We have to be at Aunt May's after lunch so I can help make dinner."

"Sam," Peter gripes, rolling over, "dinner is at five, and it's-" he cranes his neck to look at the clock- "six in the morning?" He turns on his back to glare at his boyfriend. "Why."

Sam blushes and rocks back on his heel. "Is it.. is it really that early? I had no idea."

"Alright," he sighs, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "You are obviously excited about something. I'll forgive you for waking me up at this ungodly hour."

"On Christmas, there's no such thing," Sam argues, and goes back to physically dragging Peter out of bed. "Please get up?"

Peter gives in, standing up with a huff. "You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get dressed, while I make breakfast." And with a kiss on the cheek, Sam skips out of the room, still in only his boxers, still with that Santa hat bobbing on his head.

Grumbling to himself, Peter takes a shower and gets dressed. By the time he leaves the bedroom, the apartment is beginning to smell like bacon.

"That smells amazing," he praises, following his nose to the kitchen. Passing through the living room, the dark Christmas tree catches his eye. "Sam, you forgot to turn the lights on." He has to crawl under the branches to reach the plug, so he gets on his hands and knees, and starts moving gifts around to make it easier.

There's a clatter in the kitchen. "Peter, no!"

He jumps so hard, the tree starts rocking, and he fumbles to grab hold of the trunk so it doesn't fall over. "Jeez, Sam, you scared the crap out of me." Something red catches his eye.

Hands wrap around his ankles, and tug. "Peter, get out from under there. You-you need to set the table. Or something."

"I thought the elf thing was over yesterday," Peter says, and the fingers around his ankles tighten.

"Oh, um, yeah, I... forgot." Sam forces a laugh. "Ignore it. I'll get it later."

Which is silly, Peter thinks, because he's already down here, he might as well grab it. The elf is sitting on a little black box, one he doesn't recognize. In a daze, he grabs it, and fumbles to open it. Before he can, the hands on his ankles pull with a new fervor. He's dragged out from under the tree, but he hardly notices.

"Sam?"

"You weren't supposed to see that," Sam says. "I mean, obviously, you were, but not until tonight. Dammit, I've been working on this for over a month, and then you had to go off script. Do you know how hard it was coming up with ideas for that elf? And-"

"Sam," Peter interrupts, rolling over onto his back. "I'm trying really hard not to jump to conclusions, but you're making it very difficult."

Sam's sitting on his knees, staring at his hands that are clenched into fists. "You weren't supposed to find it until tonight," he repeats.

Peter holds the box tightly in his hands and leans forward. He holds the box out to Sam, who's eyes widen in panic and alarm. "Ask me," he says, before the shorter man can jump to conclusions of his own.

Hesitantly, Sam reaches for the box. His cheeks are stained pink, but his eyes are determined when his gaze meets Peter's.

"Peter Parker," he says, "you are the most annoying, nerdy guy I've ever met."

"Wait."

"You're also a stick in the mud, and pretty bossy," Sam continues. "You're cooking sucks, and I'm a way better superhero than you. But you're kind of cool, I guess. You make a pretty mean bowl of cereal, and you've saved my sorry ass more times than I can count, in and out of costume. I've always thought your nerdiness was cute, and all of this stuff just makes me love you more everyday, which is why I spent a month leading up to this grand proposal, which you had to go and ruin because you wanted to turn the tree lights on. But that's okay, because your Parker Luck is part of your charm, and I love it. I love you." He carefully opens the black box, but Peter is too busy smiling and beaming up at Sam. "Will you marry me?"

"You absolute dork," he says, before jumping forward, and bringing Sam into a kiss. "Yes, of course I'll marry you."

Sam grins. "Really?"

"Yes, really. How could I say no?" He finally looks down at the ring, which is a simple silver with intricate lines carved into it. At a glance, it looks like a cute, simple design, but upon closer inspection, it looks more like webbing.

Sam carefully slides the ring on his finger, and Peter curls into his side as they admire it.

"Hey, do you smell something?" he asks, sniffing at the air.

Sam freezes for a second, before jumping to his feet. "I left the stove on!"

Peter chuckles, still looking at his ring. While Sam curses himself in the kitchen, Peter goes back under the tree to grab the elf. He sits it back on top of the black jewelry box, and pulls out his phone, snapping the last picture of the elf for this holiday season.

He sets it as his wallpaper, and doesn't send it.