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Peter had never been to a Pride parade before.
Not as himself, anyway.
Sure, he’d happened to swing over them once or twice (or okay, maybe three or four times) as Spider-Man. From the skyline, Pride looked like a spilled box of Wade’s crayons had come to life: glittering floats crawling down the streets, flags flapping like superhero capes, people dancing right in the middle of crosswalks, embodying what Peter was still aspiring towards: being seen and not hiding. It was loud, joyful, chaotic, and kind of beautiful. People were being themselves down there.
One time, when Peter was feeling brave, he bought a packet of rainbow heart-shaped confetti from the bodega for a dollar and scattered it over three blocks on patrol. No one saw him. He still blushed underneath his mask.
But today was different.
Today, Peter wasn’t swinging past as Spider-Man.
Today, he was walking in it as Peter Parker.
And not only walking in it, but holding hands with Wade in it.
“You’re doing amazing, sweetums!” Wade shouted, waving his pan pride flag - vibrant pink, electric yellow, and bright blue, flickering against the summer sky. “I’m so proud of you and your little pride buns! So proud, it’s leaking out of my pores. I’m sweating literal Peter Pride.”
Peter snorted. “That’s just glitter, Wade.”
“Which I applied with hot queer love.”
Wade had gone all out for Pride (of course), wearing rainbow docs, a glittery, “I ♥️ My Boyfriend” tank top, and about fifteen tiny pride flags sticking out of his belt like queer porcupine quills.
That bold, proud energy made Peter laugh nervously, cheeks pink, his free hand twisting shyly in the hem of his own tank. He had decorated it himself, with a hand-drawn spider on it, colors filled in with Sharpie—biromantic pride on one side, ace pride on the other.
Peter had been nervous, yeah. He was used to the ol' hiding your identity kinda thing. But now? He was just here, showing up as he was, wearing his colors, out in the open, where everyone could see him.
And truth be told, it felt kind of incredible. To be seen.
Seen by everyone.
Heard by everyone.
And suddenly, everything felt like... a lot.
The roar of the crowd. The bass thumping from a float half a block away, vibrating in Peter's chest. A confetti cannon firing off, almost setting off his Spidey sense. The swirl of rainbow bubbles catching in Peter’s hair.
He didn’t panic. Not really. But his throat tightened a little. His heart sped up. And even though his feet were on the pavement, he felt like he was floating, just a little too high above everything, and he pressed a little closer to Wade.
“Wade, is it… is it okay if I don’t wanna shout right now?” Peter asked. “I just kinda wanna hold your hand and exist.”
“Baby. My sweet pride angel. Of course, it’s okay. You do you, boo boo! That’s what pride is all about! And dee-dubs, we can scooch a bit out of the cray cray and give your sweet little nervous system a cool down.”
Wade kissed Peter’s knuckles and gently tucked them both a little further from the edge of the crowd.
Peter’s heart did a quiet little backflip. He loved that Wade always seemed to know what he needed – sometimes before Peter even did.
“Thanks," Peter said appreciatively. “For… just knowing. And not making it weird.”
“Oh, I’m plenty weird, just nothing comes between my baby boy’s vibes.” Wade winked.
They wandered away from the main street and found a little park bench where Peter could catch his breath. The sounds of the parade spilled down the block, but it was quieter here—a rainbow bubble of peace.
Peter squeezed Wade’s hand. “Y’know, I used to think this wasn’t for me. Like I didn’t belong. Or that I was too late. Or not queer enough.”
Wade rubbed his back gently. “Petey -"
“- I know," he added. He had to get this out. "I know now that’s not true. And y’know, I should be used to this – living one way, then everything flips upside down. Heh, literally, me hanging upside down. But… I don’t know. I think I was just so used to worrying about someone finding out I was Spider-Man that I kinda buried the part of me that’s biro. Or ace. I just – I guess it’s still hard to let it feel real.”
Wade kissed his temple. “You’re doing amazing, baby boy. It’s real. You’re real. And you are absolutely queer enough, wonderful enough. Brave enough. You’re the whole parade to me.”
Peter snorted. “That’s a lot of parade.”
“Yep. Full marching band, drag queens, rainbow lollipops, and the hottest twunk with perky junk in the trunk getting down in booty shorts.”
“Heh. You should’ve worn your booty shorts. The glitter ones.”
“Next time. But only if you wear a matching pair.”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“Babe, I’m lucky cuz I'm with you. Glitter shorts or not.”
It was kinda silly to admit out loud but the thought of them both in booty shorts made Peter’s breathing even out. Maybe next year he'd feel brave enough to try. For now, he was just glad to be here. Glad to be held.
And when Peter was ready, they stood together—Wade offered him a rainbow pin from his belt, and Peter stuck it proudly on his shirt, right over his heart. The text on the pin read –
I’m brave.