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1. In the bathroom
Peter pulled at his hair. He bit his lip. He pressed his ankles sideways against the ground. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. Everything was still too much, too loud, too bright, too rough, too pungent, too much. He removed one hand from his head, probably yanking out a good chunk of hair as he did so, and thumped his chest. He thumped it again. It didn’t help. He grunted, and began rocking his body back into the wall. Too much too much too much. A dry sob escaped his mouth.
Peter slid down the wall, aware enough to be disgusted at himself for willingly putting that much of his body in contact with the bathroom floor. He kept rocking against the wall. His phone buzzed. It was Tony: I’m coming to get you.
Peter whimpered. I’m ok. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.
His phone buzzed again. I’m still coming. Ned texted.
Peter didn’t reply, didn’t even move except to knock his head against the wall. A tear slipped down his face and he let it stay there. A third buzz. Don’t beat yourself up. Your disability doesn’t define you.
2. In the apartment
Peter stared at the wall. He couldn’t move. His room needed to be cleaned, dinner needed to be started, his homework needed to be done, his laundry needed to be put away. Oh, and he needed to take a shower. It was too much and he couldn’t figure out where to start.
He was still staring at the wall when May got home. “Peter?” she called. “Is everything ok? You haven’t started dinner.”
I’m ok,” he called back, voice slightly choked.
May sat down next to him and when there was no protest, put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her body. “What’s wrong baby?” she asked softly.
“It’s too much,” Peter told her. “I have to clean my room and make dinner and do my homework and put my clothes away and take a shower. I’m stuck.”
“That’s ok,” May told him. “How about I go start dinner while you put your clothes away and then you can come out and do your homework while I finish dinner. Then I’ll start cleaning your room while you take a shower. Does that sound ok?” Peter nodded. May squeezed him. “Good. Remember Peter, your disability doesn’t define you.”
3. In the lab
Peter twisted his fist in his hair. He didn’t understand why everything was going wrong, he didn’t understand what mistakes he was making, he didn’t understand why it just wasn’t working. He stepped away from his desk and began to pace around the lab, hitting his other fist against his thigh as he walked.
It only took Tony a couple seconds to realize Peter was upset. The man guided his protege over to the couch and they sat in silence for a couple minutes while Peter regulated himself. “It’s not working,” Peter eventually said. “I don’t know why.”
Tony nodded. “Walk me through it.”
Peter took a breath and then began to explain his project. About halfway through explaining his calculations, he stopped. “Oh. I forgot to put the negative,” he said.
“That’ll do it,” Tony said, a small smile playing on his face.
“Ugh, I’m so stupid,” Peter groaned. “Now I get why they put me in all the special classes growing up.” He was joking, but there was an element of truth to his words.
“Peter,” Tony warned. “I know you’re joking, so I’ll save the lecture. I know you have autism, but your disability doesn’t define you.”
4. In the car
Peter gripped the steering wheel like letting go would mean the end of the world. He breathed then looked left, right, left, right, left, right, left-
“Peter.” Aunt May put her hand on his arm. “It’s ok.”
“I’m fine,” he bit out, harsher than he meant to. “Sorry. I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m freaking out. I need to learn how to do this.”
“We can do it on your schedule,” May reassured him. “Just because the world says you can start learning at fifteen doesn’t mean you have to.”
“I want to,” Peter told her. His eyes were still fixed firmly in front of him, almost as if he were worried that moving them the configuration of the - empty - parking lot would somehow change. “I need to.”
“Ok,” May told him. “Whenever you’re ready then.”
Slowly, Peter eased his foot off the brake and the car lurched forward. Haltingly, he guided the car through the cone lanes May had set out and hit approximately 95% of them. He parked the car, then lay his head against the wheel. “My spatial awareness is awful,” he told May.
“It’s ok,” she said, patting his back. “Your disability doesn’t define you.”
5. In the store
Peter bounced on his toes. “Ned Ned Ned Ned Ned Ned,” he exclaimed. “Look at the new LEGO set they have, oh my god we have to get it.”
Ned abandoned the Hogwarts castle he’d been looking at and made his way over to Peter. “Dude that is so cool,” he breathed, pressing his hands against the glass. The two boys stared at the replica of Stark Tower, Avengers Compound, and the accompanying superheroes. To both of their delights, a mini Spider-Man was crouched next to a mini Ironman. “This has to be our next project. How much is it?”
Peter checked the price and bit his lip. His face fell. “It’s 300 dollars. There’s no way we could ever afford that.” Unconsciously, he started hitting his thigh.
“Hey man, it’s ok,” Ned told him. “We can just ask Mr. Stark to loan us.”
“Ask Mr. Stark,” Peter echoed, shaking his head. His breath hitched and suddenly he was hyperventilating. “Need it now, need it mine,” he said.
“Peter,” Ned whispered, because people were starting to stare and he knew how much Peter hated it when people stared. He grabbed Peter’s arm, stopping the stimming. “Your disability doesn’t define you.”
+1. In the auditorium
Peter looked out into the audience, immediately finding his family. There, in the first row, sat May, Tony, Pepper, Morgan, Ned, and MJ. The rest of the Avengers were scattered across the back of the auditorium, not wanting to draw the attention away from Peter. He took a deep breath, smiled, and walked out onto the stage to a round of applause.
“Thank you,” he said. “My name is Peter Parker and I’m a senior at Midtown Science High School. Some of you know me from classes we have together, some of you know me from AcaDec competitions and some of you don’t know me at all. For those that do know me, my being up here may come as a surprise - you see, I’m not well known for my public speaking skills.”
Here the audience laughed, as teachers and classmates remembered Peter stuttering his way through presentations.
Peter allowed himself a laugh as well. “Yeah. But as you can tell, I’m better - a lot better - now. The topic I’m speaking on today is something really important to me so I wanted to make sure I got it right. So, what is the topic?” Peter paused. This was it. After this moment, there was no turning back. “Autism.”
A couple people clapped. May nodded at him encouragingly and Tony shot him a thumbs up. “Let me reintroduce myself,” Peter said. “My name is Peter Parker and I’m autistic.”
Silence. Complete and total silence. Peter breathed.
“I know what you’re probably thinking,” he continued. “He doesn't look autistic. He’s too smart to be autistic. He makes eye contact. He’s not disabled. He doesn’t flap his hands or rock his body or have meltdowns. Well, those are all false. I do look autistic, because there’s no ‘look’ to autism like there is Down syndrome. I’m not too smart to be autistic because autism doesn’t necessarily impact your intellectual ability. I don’t make eye contact, I’m just really good at making you think I do. I am disabled, you just don’t see it. Just like you don’t see me flap my hands or rock my body or have meltdowns because I’ve learned that neurotypical society - that’s a fancy word for what most people refer to as ‘normal’ by the way - doesn’t like it. They want everyone to fit in with their standards. And for a long time, the autistic people who could have gone along with it while the autistic people who couldn’t have been shamed, ridiculed, teased, and even locked in institutions.”
Peter took a moment to look out across the audience. “Recently, the neurodiversity rights movement has started to advocate for acceptance instead of just awareness. And I’m here to tell you just why autism acceptance is so important.”
Peter walked off the stage to thunderous applause. As soon as he made it to the wings, he started flapping his hands, bouncing on his toes, and biting his lip. “I did it!” he whispered to himself. “I actually did it.” He clasped his hands to his chest, then made his way back into the audience to watch the rest of the speeches. He couldn’t sit with his family, but they were close enough for Peter to see the smiles on all their faces and excited thumbs ups. He grinned and gave them a thumbs up back, still excited and proud of himself.
Peter sat rigid in his seat, fingers crossed and what felt like every muscle in his body tensed. They were about to announce the first place winner and he desperately wanted to win. He wanted it so badly it almost hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut, crossing his toes.
“And in first place, we have,” the announcer said, pausing dramatically, “Peter Parker!”
The auditorium erupted into applause again, and Peter let a small squeal escape him as he made his way up to the stage. He couldn’t temper the smile on his face as he accepted the trophy, shaking the announcer’s hand and taking the microphone offered to him. When the applause quieted down, Peter began his acceptance speech.
“Thank you,” he said. “Truly, I didn’t expect this. I had hoped, but there were so many other good speeches today, and it’s an honor to receive first place. I’d like to first thank my Aunt May, for being my biggest advocate. She was there for me when my parents died and she was there for me when I got diagnosed and she was there for me when I decided that I wanted to make autism advocacy a part of my career. I’d also like to thank my friends, Ned and MJ, for always being there for me and for being understanding of all my differences. I’d like to thank my teammates - you know who you are - for being supportive of everything. And lastly, I’d like to thank my family. Tony, thank you for taking me under your wing and sharing your knowledge with me. Thank you for always making time for me, both in and out of the lab. Thank you for being the dad I never had. Pepper, thank you for being so welcoming from the moment you met me. You’re someone I truly look up to, both personally and professionally. Morgan, thank you for listening to my speech so many times. And for being the best little sister I could ask for. And finally, I’d like to thank the autistic community because without them, I never would have gained the confidence in myself that I have today. And I just want to end on one final note. My whole life, whenever something has gone wrong, people have told me ‘your disability doesn’t define you.’ And while I agree with the sentiment, I’d like to make a little adjustment. Your disability doesn’t have to define you. But, if you so choose, it can, and it’s ok if it does. Again, thank you so much for this award, I can’t express how much it means to me. Thank you.”