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Peter had, statistically, been in many closets in his life.
There was the one in the science lab at Midtown where he once spilt like six different beakers of acid by accident and ended up running out of the room, never admitting it was him who’d caused The Great Evacuation of ’16. There was the one in the Parker apartment that he used to hide in during games of hide and seek with his uncle but was now filled to the brim with dusty old boxes. And there was the one in the hall at the Avengers facility that hid the vent grate behind mops and brooms, where Peter had once found a detailed hand-written journal about the day-to-day events of the compound, as seen from the vents.
One closet Peter had never really been in was the sexuality one.
Because, well, there wasn’t much point.
It wasn’t like he was running around yelling about it, but it wasn’t like he was hiding it, either. Aunt May was known for being a caring and kind woman, and he knew her like the back of his hand – she wouldn’t think negatively of him because of who he liked. His best friends, MJ and Ned, were also both the most chill and not-chill-but-fantastic people he knew, respectively.
And Tony Stark—
Well, Peter hadn’t told Tony, but he knew his mentor/father-figure/Iron Man would be okay with it.
And why was that?
Because Tony Stark had been parading around with male dates since the mid-90s. There was that debacle a few years ago with Tony appearing on a dating app – interested in Men and Women – and when Peter Googled Tony Stark bisexual, a number of interviews came up that had been largely ignored and buried where he outright said it.
So, Peter wasn’t really in any closets.
Not at school, not at home, and not with Tony Stark.
They just hadn’t talked about it, was all.
So when Peter looked up from the desk where he’d been powering through his calculus homework so he could get onto helping Mr Stark with his projects, and said, “Hey, are you going to Pride this weekend?”, he was surprised by the answer he received.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Peter’s eyebrows jumped up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, what?” Tony asked, not looking up.
“You’re not going? But it’s, like, a massive party. Don’t you love parties?”
“Sure, but I love parties where I can drink wine and wear a nice suit and not be in a crowd of ten-thousand people.”
“But, Mr Stark—”
Tony placed down the tools in his hands and looked over. “Why do you care if I go to Pride? It’s just a parade.”
“It’s not just a parade,” Peter replied. “It’s a celebration! It’s a day to be loudly, unapologetically yourself!”
Tony quirked a smile. “I think you’ll find I’m loudly, unapologetically myself every day.”
“Well, sure, but you can do it with thousands of other people!”
“I’m getting the hint you want me to go to Pride,” Tony said, his eyes lit up with fond amusement. Peter had long stopped denying that Tony Stark cared about him – somewhere between the Vulture and the time Peter showed up, unannounced, with a destroyed suit, no remorse, and a pigeon with a broken wing, Tony had started looking at him like he was less a strange kid to be mentored from a distance, and more like a friend – or, dare he say it, part of the family.
“It’s not that I want you to go to Pride,” Peter replied, as casually as he could. “It’s just that I think you’d have fun at Pride, especially if you went with me.”
“And why would wandering around in the disgusting New York summer heat, in the middle of a crowd of sweaty people, buying food with a two-hundred percent mark up in price be more fun with you?”
Peter smiled. “Because you won’t be with me. You’ll be with Spiderman.”
“Oh no. Pete, that suit’s for fighting crime, and—and, saving people.”
“People might need Spiderman! And they might need Iron Man, too!”
“Pete—”
“Come on, Mr Stark,” Peter implored. “Just think about it. It could be so much fun! And New York would love to see us. And don’t get me started on the little kids, looking up at you with their wide, innocent eyes, seeing Tony Stark be unapologetically bisexual, and understanding, right in their core, that who they are is—”
“Oh, my God, Parker,” Tony interrupted, kicking out his foot and sending Peter’s chair rolling away from him. “I get it. The melodramatic speech was not necessary.”
“So, you’ll come?”
Tony studied Peter and his wide, hopeful smile for all of two seconds before sighing. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a yes.”
“That’s not a yes. It’s an I’ll think about it. I’ll weigh the pros and cons—”
“Pro: you’ll get to spend the day with your favourite superhero. Con: your favourite superhero couldn’t figure out a way to make rainbow-coloured webs. Pro—”
“If you keep talking, my answer’s changing to no.”
Peter shut his mouth but couldn’t help the smile on his face. Tony, sighed, exasperated, and turned back to his work. He gestured for Peter to go back to his homework, and the duo worked in silence for all of a minute before Tony looked over and asked, “Seriously? Rainbow webs?”
Peter shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea, but all the colours together just turned brown.”
-
Peter arrived at the tower in full Spiderman gear an hour before the parade was due to start. He entered from the Penthouse balcony, and found Tony at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through his phone.
“Happy Pride, Mr Stark!” he greeted, jumping onto the sofa and then over the back of it.
Tony raised his eyebrows at the move but didn’t address it. Instead, he tilted his head at the Spiderman get-up – mainly, the bisexual pride flag Peter had attached to his shoulders like a cape.
“All dressed up, are we?” he asked, setting his mug on the counter.
Peter span for him, letting the cape billow in the breeze. He then pulled off the mask, revealing a bright smile. “You like it? I had to sew it onto the suit for it to sit right, but I think it looks pretty cool.”
“Looks great, kid,” Tony said, smiling. He hummed for a moment, before picking up his drink again. “Since when have you been bi, anyway?”
“I’m Spiderman, Mr Stark,” Peter said with a smile. “It’s only natural that I swing both ways.”
Tony stared at him, dead-eyed, and sighed through his nose.
Still grinning, Peter shrugged. “Okay, okay. Since, like, sixth grade. We were studying World War II, watched a video about the Howling Commandos, and I set my eyes on Sargent Bucky Barnes for the first time.” Peter shook his head, remembering the grainy footage, Barnes and Captain America leaning over a map. He blinked out of it. “Asked Aunt May that evening if I was allowed to have a crush on a dead man, and she said dead, no. Man, sure thing.”
Peter barely caught the way Tony’s face had blanked at the story, but he noticed it when he smiled again. Like it was there and gone, something that Tony didn’t know how to process, or didn’t want to. Before Peter could ask, Tony said, overly casual, “You’ve met Barnes, by the way.”
“What?”
Tony nodded and finished his coffee. He set about moving around the kitchen, placing the mug in the sink and running the tap. “Yeah. Remember Germany? The man with the metal arm?”
Peter recalled kicking his ass. “You’re telling me that that was the Bucky Barnes?”
“Sure am.”
“But-but! Barnes should be like a hundred years old by now! That guy was not a century old. He packed a real good punch, and I saw his face! Up close! He—”
“Is Bucky Barnes,” Tony said, grabbing a tea towel and wiping his hands. “Was cryogenically frozen for a while. No biggie. You just beat up your childhood crush.”
Peter rocked back on his heels, reeling, before shaking his head. “That’s crazy. When did you know, anyway?”
“About the same time a shirtless male model high on cocaine stuck his tongue down my throat.”
“Ew, gross, Mr Stark,” Peter said, pulling a face.
“You asked. Now, are we getting this show on the road or what?”
Peter’s eyes widened by a fraction. “You mean you’re coming with me?”
Tony shrugged, and Peter followed as he wandered out towards the balcony. “I said I’d think about it, and I did.”
“And?”
“And I decided why not. It’s not the same as the protests I went to in the 90s—”
“You went to protests?”
Tony shrugged. “Sure, that’s what Pride used to be, after all. It started off as riots. Became protests, and now it’s,” he waved a hand vaguely, “a music festival, apparently.” Tony pulled a face. “I’ll accept, for the most part, how Pride has changed, but there’s one thing I’ll never like, and that’s charging admission.”
“And straight headliners,” Peter added.
He caught Tony’s smile before it vanished with a nod, and the two looked out over the balcony railing. The streets were already filling up, especially around the base of Stark Tower, where people seemed to congregate. The lower floors had been made into a public library and research facility some time last year, with free wifi and free entrance. It had quickly become a popular hang out spot for New York’s youth, especially as it was open twenty-four-seven and didn’t kick out anyone who ended up sleeping on the sofas.
Peter glanced over to Tony, who stared down at the streets, painted with colour and noise – they were already so loud that Peter could hear them, all the way up at the top of the tower. Tony’s expression was difficult to read, but it wasn’t excitement, it was… sad? Somehow?
“You alright, sir?” Peter asked, nudging him with his elbow.
“You ever gonna call me Tony?”
“You’re ignoring my question.”
“You’re ignoring mine.”
Peter levelled Mr Stark with a look, and Tony huffed. “I’m fine, kid. Really. Just haven’t been to one of these in a few decades. It’s different than how I remember. Kind of wish it still was a protest.” Tony shook his head and straightened, pushing himself away from the railing. “Let’s get going. You’re gonna love what I did to the suit.”
Peter blinked at the gear shift, before asking, “Did you paint it rainbow colours?”
Tony shook his head. “Nah – made a few mock-ups but they looked kinda dumb. I’ve got something cooler.”
Tony called his suit, and Peter saw the window open a few floors up as gauntlets and boots started shooting out into the air, aiming for Tony. They linked together, locking tight around his body, until the face plate shifted into place.
“So cool,” Peter breathed.
“Don’t you know it,” Tony replied.
Peter pulled on his mask, climbing up onto the railing. In his ear, Karen linked the two of them together via the comms, and he moved carefully from his crouch to fully standing. The Iron Man armour looked up at him.
“You make me nervous,” Tony said plainly in his ear, as Peter balanced on the railing.
“I’m about to make you sick,” Peter replied, before swaying a little too far over the ledge and free falling down the side of the tower. Behind him, he heard the thrusters start up, Iron Man following behind just in case Peter failed to catch himself.
Peter whooped, the ground rushing at him, the wind shooting up past his body. He flipped before shooting out a web, hearing the gasping crowds below him, and swinging back up into the air.
He shot up a web towards the Iron Man armour, and Tony let him latch on before flying out over the city, pride flag fluttering from his shoulders, and—
And, oh my God.
“Mr Stark!” Peter yelled. “Your—The trail!”
“You like it?” Tony asked, and Peter laughed in response.
“I love it! I can’t believe you did that!”
Usually, in Iron Man’s wake, there’d be a faint trail of smoke that would dissipate quickly from the thrusters. Now, however, there was something more. The smoke didn’t fade, just dragged out behind the armour, in a long, rainbow-coloured trail. Red into yellow into blue into pink, with all the colours in between.
Peter cackled, and the cackle turned into a whoop as they soared over the crowd, coming in low to hear the cheering, before zooming straight up.
Peter let go of his web and swung through the city, over the people and the shouting, the joyful haze of excitement.
They settled on a roof after a while, before heading back out and following along with the parade. There were floats filled with drag queens, with dancers, with rainbow confetti, wigs, flags, clothes. There was loud music, partying, children running around with flower crowns and rainbow dresses, light up sneakers, and capes like Spidey’s.
Sometimes they landed in the parade, walked alongside the floats, and took photos. Peter leapt around from place to place, dancing on the railing of the top deck of a party bus, and then posing in photos in the middle of the crowd. Iron Man was a hit, from the rainbow trail to Tony retracting the helmet and smiling for the cameras.
There were lights and shouting and joy and—
And loud, unapologetic people, loudly and unapologetically being themselves.
At some point, they settled on a rooftop to watch it all go by. Peter’s mask was rolled up to his nose as he ate a doughnut made from rainbow batter and Tony ate a churro covered in rainbow sprinkles. Peter swung his legs off the side of the building, kicking his heels lightly into the brickwork. Down below, people still partied, still yelled up at them, took photos from afar.
“Are you having fun?” Peter asked, his mouth full.
Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off the view. “It’s different than I expected.”
“Different how?”
Tony shrugged. “Different good.”
-
They followed the parade all the way to the end. There had been a speech to start off Pride at the beginning – a trans actress Peter had seen in a drama a few months before – and there was another one by an activist at the end. Peter and Tony stood on a nearby building to watch it, clapping with everyone else as they left the mic. Tony whistled and Peter whooped.
Then, someone else approached the mic, and just like everyone before them, their voice echoed as it travelled, a little tinny through the speakers.
“Before the parade ends,” they said, “I’d just like to thank two of New York’s favourite heroes, Iron Man and Spiderman for coming out today!” They gestured up towards the two and the crowd erupted into cheers. Peter jumped a little with excitement, waving, and caught Tony’s fond smile out of the corner of his eye.
“I just wanted to invite them onto the stage to maybe say a few words?” the presenter said, and Peter swung his head to look at Tony.
“Can we?” he asked, and Tony glanced over, his helmet and faceplate locking into place.
“I don’t see why not.”
Peter cheered and leapt off the building, flipping on his way down before shooting out a web to catch him. He skimmed the top of the crowd before jumping off the upswing, landing cleanly on the stage. The stage was actually a double decker party bus, with a massive screen set up on one side, speakers, cameras and a DJ booth. It was already pretty crowded with people, but they made room for the two heroes to land, and Tony retracted his helmet as he neared the mic, Peter vibrating with excitement by his side.
“Well, hello,” Tony said into the mic, grinning as the crowd screamed in response. “It’s very nice of you to invite us up here,” he said, glancing back at the person who’d called them. “I know I speak for both of us when I say we’ve had an incredible day so far and have loved celebrating Pride with you guys.” Again, the audience cheered, and Peter looked behind him to see his masked face beside Tony’s, ten-times the size.
“I’m gonna get a little real with you for a second,” Tony said, and Peter turned to watch. “I hope you don’t mind. I came out as bisexual some time in the 90s, back when it was a bit of a dirty word, and I can remember the reactions pretty clearly. The media either glossed over it or referred to it as part of the party boy phase I was having. It was pretty looked down upon for a while there – certainly by the board of SI at the time, by the people who knew my parents and insisted they’d be some kind of ashamed, and definitely by the general public, who thought it was just another step on the ladder to an eventual overdose at twenty-five.
“But amongst all that negativity, there was a bright spot. There was my best friend, Rhodey, who told me rather matter-of-factly that I could bone as many guys as I like, as long as he didn’t have to meet them in the morning.” Tony smiled, ducking his head for a moment. “He said the same about the girls, too.” He paused as people laughed. “There was also this community. This amazing, massive community, who looked out for me, and welcomed me into every gay club and LGBTQ protest on the West Coast. And even though my sexuality has largely been forgotten and ignored in the past twenty years, this community has never stopped being something to be proud of, being brave, and being supportive for anyone who needs it.”
Again, the crowd cheered, and Peter leaned a little over the railing to watch them all. To watch the smiling faces of people who didn’t know that their heroes were like them. Those kids with the wide, innocent eyes, as Peter had joked – they were staring up at them, now. They were seeing Earth’s best defender be proud of his sexuality – and they were changing. Just a little, somewhere on the inside.
They all were.
“I’ll admit that it’s been over a decade since I attended a Pride, and that was honestly down to me not wanting to change with the times – which, for a futurist, is the dumbest thing I could’ve done,” Tony continued. “As someone who went to the protests of the 80s and 90s, who was there for the AIDs epidemic, who watched friends die, who helped build LGBT youth centres in the aftermath, I wasn’t sure about Pride changing from a protest to a party. But today has changed my mind about that.
“As much as we remember the past, as much as we push forward to the future, we should also be celebrating. We get to celebrate! We’ve come so far! Pride doesn’t need to be a fight anymore, even though we shouldn’t forget how it used to be, shouldn’t forget where we came from. Pride can be more than a fight – it can be a parade. It can be a chance to be excited about who we are, about how far we’ve come, and about where we’re going to go. I should’ve seen that a long time ago, and it took Spidey here—” he swung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him into his side, “—getting me to come out today, to see that. To see – how did you phrase it? – people being loudly and unapologetically themselves.”
Peter grinned beneath his mask, throwing an arm around Tony’s back to hold him there at his side. The crowd cheered; thousands of people yelling and whooping beneath them. Peter felt Tony’s hand squeeze at his shoulder and looked over to see the blinding smile – the real one that Peter only got to see every so often, rather than the fake one he’d usually throw to the cameras.
This was Tony Stark. The real Tony Stark.
“Anything to add?” Tony asked, glancing down at him.
Peter leaned towards the microphone. “As your friendly neighbourhood Bi-derman, I’d just like to say thank you for being the coolest community I could ever be a part of. Now let’s party!”
The crowd cheered, and the two heroes stepped back from the microphone, the music starting up in full force and blaring out of the speakers. Peter danced with the people on the party bus long enough to accumulate a rainbow necklace, before jumping back over to Tony, who’d been handed a drink from some super secret bar Peter had a feeling he wouldn’t be allowed near.
“That was a really good speech,” Peter yelled over the music.
“Thanks, kid,” Tony said. “And thanks for, you know, bringing me out here today.”
Peter’s grin was massive. “It’s no problem, Mr Stark. Now, I hear there’s a fair in Central Park. You could get your face painted.”
Tony rolled his eyes but pressed his glass into a stranger’s hand anyway. “Need a lift?”
Peter was already climbing onto the railing. “Much appreciated.”
As Tony lifted off, Peter flipped backwards off the bus, shooting out a web upside-down to catch onto Tony’s leg. Then the two of them were off; soaring over the Pride celebration, Iron Man followed by a rainbow smoke trail and Spiderman in his bi-flag cape.
They flew above New York City towards the park, knowing the day’s festivities had only just begun.
