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Peter pressed the frozen bag of vegetables against his eye as he stared up at the bright red Spider-man face currently displayed proudly on his ceiling. Aunt May had disappeared into the kitchen to make dinner, meaning he had about an hour to himself before she came back to ask him what place he wanted take-out from. He was a ball of mixed emotions – elation at basically being an Avenger now warred with the guilt of keeping yet another secret from his aunt. She was so unsuspecting, so confident that there were no secrets between the two of them that it had been easy to convince her that he had gotten into a fight with some random teenager from Brooklyn. His guilt was the only thing sharp enough to pop the ecstatic balloon that had swollen inside him the moment Tony Stark had said he needed Spider-man’s help in Berlin and with a sigh Peter switched the display back off and deflated onto his bed.
Music streamed softly into his room and he closed his eyes as he listened. May had begun singing along and her soft voice, normally a balm to Peter on even his roughest days, only added to the miserable feeling that was growing in his chest. Being Spider-man was everything to him – his chance to do good and to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves – and he knew it was too much a part of his life to ever give it up. He also knew that it would break May’s heart to know what he did after school everyday and what he had done in Berlin. He knew that she would demand he give the suit back – would probably march it back to Tony Stark herself; and it would break him if she did. She couldn’t know. Not ever.
The cold from the bag was starting to sting his skin and he threw the bag onto his bed. The swelling had already gone down and in a few more hours the bruises will have vanished completely. He’d have to come up with some excuse for their quick disappearance to May. Another lie to tell his aunt who deserved better. He groaned in frustration at the thought. He wouldn’t trade what had happened him – neither the bite nor the trip to Berlin – but he wished his aunt could know the truth.
It would be one thing if this was the only secret Peter was keeping from May. He could handle it if only Spider-man was a secret. If everything about his normal life was open to May, Peter would have felt infinitely less guilty about keeping his other life quiet. But Peter had been keeping secrets from May since he was thirteen years old; ever since he had accidently stumbled on some explicit drawings of the male Avengers on the internet and had been intrigued more than embarrassed, and the guilt of that had only grown alongside the guilt for being Spider-man.
Peter turned onto his stomach and pushed his head into his pillow. The tender part of his face burned from the pressure and he muffled a groan before turning slightly to his side to relieve the pain. He was fortunate that the bruising on the rest of his body – mainly located on his torso and the upper parts of his legs – was almost entirely on the same side. There was some benefit to landing on the same side nearly every time he was thrown into something after all, although it had felt ridiculously more painful each subsequent time it had happened during the fight. The physical pain – more of a soreness now anyway – was a brief respite from his thoughts but they came back quickly enough once he was resting on his good side.
He had been so happy with his new suit and so excited to meet the Avengers – even if half of them were trying to beat Peter into their impression of ground beef it had been exhilarating and surreal to actually meet his heroes – that the guilt hadn’t had a chance to rise up in him but now, back in the safety and warmth of his home, surrounded by everything that reminded him of his aunt’s love and devotion to him, it was roaring within him, demanding that he tell her some truth. He couldn’t tell her the truth about the Stark Internship, of course, but maybe telling her the other thing would help relieve the guilt and bring him back to the euphoria he had felt driving back in Mr. Stark’s car. He knew she wouldn’t care – May had always been open about her support for equality of any form even going so far as to get them kicked out of Peter’s first kindergarten class for yelling at the teacher who told Peter he couldn’t marry his Iron Man and Captain America dolls together because they were both boys - but he had been filled with such embarrassment when she had walked into his room while he still had those fateful photos up that he had shut the browser and told her he had been doing homework before he had thought about it and the lies had started then and never stopped.
The name of his first major crush in middle school was changed from John to Jane. He started clearing the history of his internet regularly and locking the door to his bedroom more often and he bore the thinly veiled jokes from his uncle with an embarrassed denial that he knew was convincing enough as May always swatted Ben’s arm whenever she heard them. He had sat through Ben’s horrifyingly embarrassing version of the “Talk” without asking him anything about boys and pretended that the pretty girls on TV were the only ones he was looking at. When he had found a sexuality that seemed to fit him, he kept it to himself and prattled on to May only about the girls that had caught his eye.
Keeping a part of himself a secret had become like second nature to himself and it had been easy at first to keep the spider bite and all the new powers a secret too. He hadn’t been doing anything with them anyway, so he just added it to his metaphorical shelf of secrets and focused on having a kickass freshman year with Ned.
Then Uncle Ben had died right in front of him and Peter was filled with both the knowledge and the guilt that he could have done something and hadn’t and he had been determined to help others. He had built his first suit from his allowance and thrift stores (and he was quite proud of it, whatever Mr. Stark said) and he began sneaking out of his bedroom with it tightly packed into his backpack to stop muggings and thefts and even some car accidents. Whatever he could stop or prevent, he did. And it had been harder to keep from Aunt May but the guilt over keeping an even bigger secret had been balanced by the happiness of actually helping people. It wasn’t like his other secret – keeping that one only affected himself but this one affected all the people who needed his help every day. It was easier when he thought of it like that.
But now, with the knowledge that Tony Stark knew who he was – who he actually was - and had given him not only the adventure of a lifetime (seriously going to Berlin and stealing Captain America’s shield was probably the best thing that would ever happen to Peter, and he was okay with that) but an amazing new suit that would make it even easier to help people, tilted the balance decidedly in favor of the guilt. He could help more people now and on a bigger scale whenever Mr. Stark called him again, but there was now someone who knew his secret that wasn’t his aunt.
Mr. Stark may have been more understanding about the need to be a superhero than Aunt May would probably ever be, but he wasn’t his parent. He wasn’t the one who had raised him since he was five years old; wasn’t the one who helped him pick out his best clothes for his first day of kindergarten, wasn’t the one who listened to him talk about Star Wars for hours, or the one who held him together at his uncle’s funeral and every night for a month straight afterwards, when the nightmares came. Aunt May was. And the fact that someone who wasn’t her knew something so important about himself before she did was what was causing the guilt to manifest so much more viciously then it had before.
But he couldn’t tell her about the spider bite, or the powers. He couldn’t tell her about the muggings and thefts, couldn’t even fathom her reaction if she knew it had been him stopping the car in the Youtube reaction. She could never know about Berlin or the new suit or the fact that the “boy from Brooklyn” was technically a Great American Hero turned war criminal on the run from most of the World’s governments. This was something about himself that she could never know, because knowing would hurt her and himself. He couldn’t let her know that he risked his own life every night to make sure no one else in their neighborhood suffered the pain of burying a loved one before their time. He couldn’t bring that pain to her.
But the other secret, he could tell her that. He had been meaning to tell her that and maybe if she knew about that part of himself; if she was the only one who he shared it with, the guilt would lessen. It was an integral part of himself like the need to help others was, and it was something he could share with her first. The guilt of keeping a part of himself from her would be mitigated by sharing another part of himself. A safer part of himself.
But it was also terrifying. Peter knew that May would love him no matter what but the fear of sharing something that had been a secret for so long – years longer than even the Big Spider Secret – was daunting. He didn’t want her to look at him differently; he didn’t want to be changed in her eyes. Peter had seen the stories people online had posted – had seen how even the most accepting seeming parents sometimes reacted poorly to their own children coming out to them and began to treat them as though they were strangers or even ignoring them as though they loved them less for being who they were. Peter didn’t want that. He wanted May to look at him as she always did and the idea, no matter how improbable, that she could look at him as though he was a stranger rather than her Peter was awful. But at the same time, Peter felt like he would drown keeping all these secrets from her.
The smell of burning meat rafted under his door and Peter was thrown from his thoughts by a rather loud expletive from his aunt as she undoubtedly realized that the new recipe her coworkers had sworn by had been made unsalvageable. Peter had just enough time to prop himself back up and place the mostly melted bag of vegetables over his now half healed bruises before Aunt May was opening his door.
“So, the chicken casserole isn’t working out. I don’t know what Bev was thinking when she gave me a recipe that requires more than five steps, honestly. What are you up for? I’m thinking pizza. If that’s what you’d like?” May was smiling as she spoke, leaning lightly on his door frame. It was a bright, easy smile; the kind someone only shared with a person that they cared for deeply. The kind that said they knew everything about that person – the good and the bad – and loved each piece simply because it belonged to their loved one. Peter looked at that smile; looked at his aunt who had devoted her life to protecting and raising him and something inside him snapped.
“I like boys.” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to even think about them and his eyes widened. He jumped from his bed and threw the bag of vegetables of his face again as he gestured wildly with his hands, trying to put distance between himself and the words that had spilled carelessly from his mouth. “I mean, I like girls too! I just also really think boys are awesome and attractive and sometimes I think I’d like to date one more than I’d want to date a girl and I get crushes on boys sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t just date girls, if you’d want me to! I could, and that would be fine, because I think girls are awesome and pretty too! I mean, it would hurt because I do really like guys and I want you to be okay with that, but I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable and if liking boys makes you uncomfortable I could try to stop, and I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. Pizza sounds –“
“Peter.” Aunt May’s voice was soft but firm and Peter fell silent immediately. He had been panic rambling, the way he always did when he was really nervous or had done something wrong and that was the tone his aunt always used when she wanted him to stop and listen to her. His heart was pounding, and he wanted nothing more to sink into the ground. May was looking at him with wide eyes, her smile had fallen from her face and she was still standing in his doorway. Peter’s heart fell, and his eyes dropped to the ground. This had been a horrible mistake – Aunt May wasn’t okay with this, she hated him now. She was going to kick him out and then he’d have no where to stay and this had been a horrible mistake. He should have just kept his mouth shut –
“Peter,” his aunt said again, a little louder and a little more firmly this time. “Look at me.” Peter flinched but he looked up obediently anyway. May was still standing in the doorway but the moment Peter’s eyes met hers she was moving. Peter let out a little surprised sound when he felt her arms go around him. It hurt a little, her arms pressing into the bruises along his ribs, but it also felt amazing. It took no time at all for him to return the embrace.
“Oh, my sweet Peter,” May whispered and Peter clung on harder. Her tone was soft, as loving as it had ever been, and full of warmth. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest and the relief it all had tears stinging the corners of his eyes. It took a full minute for May to pull away and when she did it was only far enough that she could cup Peter’s face, careful not to press on the bruises. “I want you to listen to me closely.” She waited until he nodded before she continued. “There is nothing wrong with liking boys and girls and I would never ask you to deny that part of yourself. I don’t care if you bring home a girl or a boy, as long as it is someone who makes you happy each day of your life, you understand me? Because you are wonderful person and you deserve someone who will make you happy and I will not let you settle for less even if I have to fight each and every bastard that tells you different to make sure you see it.”
Peter let out a tiny, choked laugh at the determination in her voice and May let out a giggle of her own, setting Peter off again with a much louder laugh. It wasn’t a laugh given because something had been tremendously funny but rather the relieved kind one gave when they were startled by a shock of emotions in a very short period of time. They laughed and hugged and Peter felt the guilt and fear fall from him, loosening the tension in his shoulders.
It took a minute for Peter and May to settle down and when they had, Peter felt his aunt press a gentle kiss on his forehead, like she did when he had been little and sick, and she was checking his temperature. It was a loving gesture and when she pulled away she was smiling once more. It wasn’t the same easy smile she had worn when she first entered his room, but he felt the love in it all the same, burning with the fierce protectiveness that was his aunt. May knew now; and she still accepted him. Still loved him. She knew his oldest secret and she was still holding him. At that moment it didn’t matter that he had stuffed both Spider-man suits under his bed or that his bruises had come from a dangerous fight with some of the most powerful people in the world on an empty airport strip; Aunt May knew that he liked boys and she still loved him.
Aunt May finally stepped back, and Peter watched her as she surreptitiously wiped the side of her eyes and sniffed quietly. He didn’t blame her for the tears – he felt like crying himself from the relief of it all but settled for giving her his own bright smile in return for his. “Well!” May said with a bit of a laugh back in voice. “I’m glad we settled that. And it’s nice to know that you think boys are ‘awesome and attractive’ as well as girls,” Peter blushed warmly at hearing his words repeated back to himself but May carried on with only a gentle laugh, “but it doesn’t really solve what to have for dinner. Are you okay with pizza? I’ll even get one with pineapple, just for you?” Peter nodded, the bright smile still in place and Aunt May cast him one last smile in return before ambling out from his room.
Peter stood in his room for a moment more, assessing his own emotions. The guilt about hiding Spider-man from May was still there, of course, but it was no longer consuming him. He could accept that May could never know about that, because May knew he liked boys and girls and loved him anyway. It was something else no one else knew about him and the fact that she had accepted him without question filled him with a warmth as great as the one he had felt when Tony Stark had asked for his help. Peter grinned wide enough as he left his room that the bruises along his cheek burned anew but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He could live with having a secretive second life; as long as his aunt knew everything about this life. It didn’t matter so much that his aunt knew nothing about who Spider-man was, she knew everything about Peter Parker. And loved everything about him.