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“Peter?” A voice asked, “Peter, what are you doing here?”
He looked up and Aunt May was standing there, her arms wide open. He ran forward, crashing into her embrace.
“My sweet, sweet boy…” His Aunt murmured, burying her nose in his thick head of curls as she held him. “It’s alright,” she whispered, “I’m here now.”
Peter’s eyes snapped open and he awoke on a cold rooftop. It had started to rain and water was dripping down steadily on his curled up body, jolting him awake like some kind of torture. It took him a moment to get his bearings, to realize that Aunt May wasn’t there, that it had all been just a dream.
A stupid dream too, he reminded himself, since she was the one to kick him out of their house.
He sat up, surveying his surroundings. He was on top of the avenger’s tower where he’d taken to sleeping because well it was the only place he could think of and it was tall enough to feel safe. Nothing like a short commute to work after all, he thought bitterly.
The rain was picking up momentum, pounding down on the metal rooftop and making him wince as it pained his heightened senses. Peter stood up even though it was still dark out and began stuffing his sleeping bag into his backpack, looking out over the peacefully sleeping city as he did so.
He slid the backpack onto his shoulders and checked his watch, it was 5:37. Plenty of time to swing across the city to school, he thought, trying to stay positive.
Tiredly, he wondered what Flash Thompson would think if he knew that Puny Peter Parker was also now homeless. Well, not homeless exactly-he had a home, he just didn’t want to go back. Not if his Aunt May would only have a niece and not a nephew.
Besides, the rest of the world knew him only as Spiderman, not Spider-girl, not Spider-woman, Spiderman. Maybe that could be enough for him.
These thoughts and more plagued him as he swung across the city towards Midtown High School, watching the sun steadily rise over the horizon behind the skyscrapers.
After school it was more of the same, shove a free granola bar from the cafeteria into his mouth and swing back across town to the avenger’s tower. At least here, he knew he could be someone better-Spiderman.
“Hey, Spider-Kid,” Sam called out as he entered the building.
Peter shook his head in exasperation but he was smiling under his mask.
“Whatever Falcon,” he shot back, “at least I’m not a grandpa.”
Sam smirked, “not yet, but just you wait, one day you’ll be an old man and your knees will hurt too.”
Peter laughed and kept walking but really his heart was soaring. That was another thing he could always count on in the avenger’s tower-he would always be gendered correctly.
Sure, some of it was Peter’s own doing with the whole “SpiderMAN” thing and tailoring his suit to hide his curves but he liked to think that they would accept him even without the mask. But, well, it was too much to risk these days, especially when he had nowhere else to go…
He took the elevator up to the top floors, letting his shoulders relax as Friday talked to him.
“Mr. Stark wants you to go right to the lab Mr. Spiderman,” the robotic voice chimed. “He says and I quote ‘tell the Spider to get his butt up here so we can blow shit up’”
Peter chuckled at that, he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said, Friday had comedic timing whether they programmed it into her or not.
He didn’t bother knocking on the soundproof walls of the lab, Mr. Stark wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway. Instead he just walked right in and announced his presence with a loud, “Hey Mr.Stark!” to be heard over the sound of AC/DC blasting from the stereo.
Mr.Stark whirled around, clutching his chest. “Jesus kid you scared me!” he exclaimed.
Peter tried to chuckle but it sounded false. God, he was so tired.
“Let’s get to work,” he croaked out, hands reaching out towards the tools laid out.
Stark nodded and they fell back into their usual easy rhythm of working together. He relished the chance to just simply work with his hands, not bothering to talk much to Mr. Stark as they worked for hours.
“Good job kid,” Mr. Stark said some time later when they both finally pulled off their welding masks and set them aside.
Peter nodded, “thanks,” he muttered.
The billionaire turned and looked out the window, eyeing the stormy skies. “You swinging home tonight?” he questioned.
Peter shrugged and his voice was higher than he would have liked as he answered, “Yeah I mean it’s fine, I uh do it all the time..”
“Okay,” Stark replied, “be safe.”
Something about the way he said, like he actually cared about Peter, made his heart twist. He nodded hastily and took off into the night.
A really stupid thing about being a superhero was that it was expensive as hell. There was the cost of random ER and hospital visits, and all the food he needed to feed his increased metabolism, Peter thought as he sat on top of a rooftop and flipped through his limited stack of cash in his backpack.
It wasn’t Stark Tower, he needed space to think and he’d subconsciously headed back towards Queens and his Aunt May’s apartment. He didn’t go all the way home, but he was close enough that he thought he could see her apartment.
Peter counted-he had around a hundred dollars in cash, mostly tens and twenties. Not bad but certainly not good and he would need to get a real job soon.
He sighed, flopping down on the rooftop and staring out at the dark city night. If he swung all the way home would Aunt May take him back? He wondered. Shaking his head, he reasoned that it didn’t matter, he was seventeen so he’d be leaving home soon anyway, an extra year didn’t matter.
When the sun rose and his stomach ached with hunger, he tried to remember that thought.
“Spiderman?” A voice cackled to life in his ears.
Peter adjusted the suit’s mask to sit better on his face and answered, “Here, copy.”
“We’re getting reports of violence along the upper east side, requesting assistance, over.” Iron-Man said.
Peter nodded, his brain kicking into high gear as he flexed his wrists, estimating how much web fluid he had left.
“Got it, thanks Mr. Iron-Man!”
“Don’t sound so excited kid,” the other superhero shot back but Peter could hear the laughter in his voice.
He smiled as he started swinging fast, racing against the city’s rising sun. This was what he did best, being Spiderman and not some random homeless trans kid. He felt strong, powerful, not scared at all.
Once he finally got to the scene he’d been swinging through blocks of rubber already. Cars overturned, people screaming in terror, the whole works.
“Hey,” he said, landing next to the Black Widow.
She turned to him and gave him a tight-lipped grimace. “This asshole has been tearing up the city,” she muttered, a murderous look in her eyes. Peter almost felt bad for the supervillain responsible.
Instead he nodded in understanding, “we know who it is yet?” he asked.
Hawkeye came trotting over, butting in, “yeah, some guy who calls himself The Rhino,” he shook his head in exasperation, “little on the nose if you ask me.”
Just then the Rhino in question came charging around the corner, chased by IronMan flying behind and trying to keep up. He was huge, some kind of massive half-rhino half-human creation with armor and a horn the size of Peter.
“You,” the villain called out in a distorted mechanical voice. “Spider-Man.”
The avengers beside him tensed up, preparing for a fight.
“Oh god,” Peter muttered under his breath. The rhino wasn’t stopping and around him the avengers were dropping into defensive positions. He crouched, springing up into the air and ignoring how his empty stomach panged at the movement.
He jumped just in time, shooting a web onto a nearby building just as the Rhino raced towards him. He could feel the brush of air where the beast brushed against him.
Shit, shit, shit, he thought. He needed a plan.
“Spider-Man!” Black Widow called out, he glanced towards her and nearly lost his grip on the building. Get it together Parker, he thought angrily at himself.
Black Widow was pointing towards a group of school kids on the next street over that the Rhino was heading towards.
“On it!” he exclaimed, taking off towards him.
“Now you’ll pay, now you’ll all pay!” The Rhino yelled, charging towards the kids. Peter swung faster and faster, not even looking to see where his webs were landing. The Rhino picked up speed, his head down and his horn pointed at the children.
Where the hell were the other avengers? He hardly had time to think before he was leaping in front of the Rhino, shooting a web out towards the kids and managing to grab all three of them in one go. He scooped them up, using all his strength to hold onto the web against their weight and thrashing.
“Just hold on!” he yelled down to them as he tried to swing higher and out of the way of the Rhino. “Please!”
The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain across his side, and his knees hitting a rooftop. Then darkness.
Peter woke up slowly, sound trickling in as he emerged from the blackness. His head felt fuzzy and wrong.
Distantly, he thought he could hear voices next to him.
“...be ok?” a voice said.
“Think so,” someone else said.
“Poor kiddo..”
He chose then to open his eyes. It was blurry at first and then he was able to focus on the faces of Iron-Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, the Hulk, Captain America, and the Winter Soldier surrounding him.
Peter’s brain couldn’t process it, what were they doing there? They were never with him…
He must have said the last part out loud because Bruce winced and muttered, “I know, we’re sorry, if I had been there then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
Clint shoved his shoulder, “it’s not your fault,” he said, “if I could have gotten a better shot in then-”
“What happened?” Peter cut them off, his tongue felt thick and numb in his mouth.
The others froze as if remembering that he was there. It took a minute, but the weight of their gazes reminded Peter of something else. Gingerly, he reached a hand up to his face. No mask. His eyes widened, and as he moved his arm he felt something else-no binder.
Oh god, oh no, they were gonna kick him out and oh god he couldn’t do this-
Peter was moving before his brain even registered what he was doing, he was throwing himself forwards, out of the bed, he had to run-he had to get out-they couldn’t see him like this, no one could see him like this, shit shit
“Spider-Man, Spider-Man,” there were two hands on his shoulders, catching him, keeping him from throwing himself off the hospital bed.
Peter just sobbed because he wasn’t strong enough to fight against whoever held him captive. Distantly he smelled motor oil on whoever held him’s hands. The steady pressure of the weight of the warm palms calmed him, he leaned into the person’s chest, sniffling.
“There you go,” a low voice crooned, leaning him back into the bed. “It’s ok son.”
Blearily, Peter glanced back up at the people surrounding him. He couldn’t believe they were here, he was hurt and confused so he just gaped at them.
“Do you, do you-” he tried to get out. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes again because he couldn’t even communicate anymore.
“Shhh, it's ok, take your time,” the sweet low voice said. He sniffled, holding on tighter to the shirt that also smelled like motor oil, it grounded him.
“Do you care that I’m-” he gestured helplessly at his chest, feeling a fresh wave of sobs overtake him.
“No, no, not at all baby,” a voice said, brushing his curls off of his sweaty forehead.
Other voices he vaguely recognized answered too, “of course not,” , “we would never mind,” ,”you're still our Spider-Man.”
“Go back to sleep, kid,” the voice insisted.
“Ok,” Peter murmured, “ok..”
The next time he woke up it was afternoon. The hospital room was empty and it took him a long minute to remember everything that had happened. He tensed up as he did, memories flooding back. Would they still accept him under the light of day?
“Mr. Spider-Man?” Friday’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “May Mr.Stark come in?”
Peter hesitated for a moment before he answered. Then reluctantly he murmured, “yes.”
He adjusted himself to be tucked farther under the hospital bed’s blankets so that Mr.Stark couldn’t see his chest again.
The billionaire entered the room quietly, looking like he didn’t want to scare Peter.
“Hey kid,” he said softly when he reached the bed. It brought back memories of the previous night.
Peter still stiffened up at the sight of him though, this whole trust thing would take time.
“You feeling ok?” Mr.Stark asked.
Peter nodded, “I think so but I still don’t even know what happened…” he trailed off, waiting for Mr.Stark to fill in the blanks for him.
“You got knocked around by Rhino pretty good, he broke some of your ribs and then you fainted, we had Doctor Cho piece you back together,” he answered bluntly.
Peter was glad for that, he wanted to know everything that had happened while he’d been unconscious, especially if it involved taking his clothes off and putting him in a hospital gown. He winced at the thought of that.
Mr.Stark nodded in sympathy at his discomfort, “yeah sorry about that, Cho thought it was weird that your healing factor didn’t take care of your ribs though, any reason that might be?” he asked, dancing around the real topic at hand.
Peter cringed again, “yeah uh I haven’t been eating that much,” he muttered. When Mr.Stark’s eyes went wide he quickly added, “just cause like food is expensive and everything and uh I don’t really live with my Aunt anymore so..”
He didn’t know why he said that, he shouldn’t have said that.
“Okay,” Mr.Stark breathed, “we can take care of that.”
“You don’t have to-” he started but Mr.Stark stopped him.
“I want to,” he insisted, leaving no room for argument.
“Okay,” Peter said.
He stared at Mr.Stark expectantly. Was he still gonna ask him to leave the avengers? Offering to buy him food didn’t mean he still wanted Spider-Man on the team.
As if reading his gaze, Mr.Stark sighed deeply and asked, “do you wanna talk about it?”
Peter bit his lip and nodded, if Mr.Stark was going to tell him to leave he should just do it quickly and rip the bandaid off.
“None of us think any differently of you,” Mr.Stark started.
Peter waited for the ‘but’.
“You know I don’t care about any of that stuff, whatever you identify as is fine with me,” Stark said easily, “you should know that I’m bi, so I guess I understand a little even though it's not the same,” he added.
Peter’s eyes widened. Mr.Stark, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy, ect was bi? Actually he should have guessed that sooner in hindsight.
He let Mr.Stark continue.
The billionaire said, “I guess I should ask what your name is though.”
Peter let out a watery chuckle, “we’re doing this all backwards aren’t we?” he choked out. “My name’s Peter Parker.”
Mr.Stark extended his hand like they were equals, like he hadn’t just learned every single one of Peter’s secrets. “Nice to meet you Peter, and you can call me Tony.”
Peter nodded even though he could never see himself calling Iron-Man that.
—-- 3 Months Later —--
“Peter! Come on, we're starting the movie!” Clint yelled out, Peter didn’t bother to answer as he raced down the stairs.
“I’m here,” he panted, collapsing on the couch between Hawkeye and Iron-Man.
“Good,” Tony snorted like he was unconvinced that Peter had been working in the lab-hypocrite.
Tony pressed play and the movie started, Friday dimmed the lights. Peter sighed and leaned back into the couch, it was a little crowded with them all here but he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Oh,” Natasha whispered, “before I forget, here’s the paint samples for you to look at Peter.” She handed him a packet of papers.
“Thanks,” he whispered back.
“Shhh!” Clint hissed. Natasha elbowed him.
“Ow!”
Peter smirked, holding the paint samples for his new bedroom in Stark Tower up to his eyes and squinting at them. A nice dark blue one caught his eye and he flipped it towards Tony, “what do you think?”
Tony nodded in agreement, “sure looks good, but remember you can choose whatever you want kiddo.”
Peter melted a little at that, it was hard to always remember it. He nodded, “yeah I know Dad.”
“Kay’ just checking,” Tony murmured, wrapping a big arm around Peter’s shoulders.
He snuggled into him, inhaling the sweet scent of motor oil that Tony always smelled like. The movie played softly in the background and he felt his eyes drift closed, warm and safe and full as he was.
“Don’t fall asleep, you’ll miss the movie,” Tony chuckled.
“Mmhnm, too late…” Peter murmured, letting his eyes slip closed. He was home, it was ok now.