Chapter Text
The thing about Peter is, he's a guy. Maybe not by some definitions, but definitely by his own. He's certainly not a girl of any sorts (and, yes, he does see the irony when Flash teases him for looking like a boy).
Peter tells himself it'll get better, that life will one day be easy, but that doesn't make the present any easier to deal with. No matter how often he's teased about looking like a boy, he doesn't actually pass as anything more than a butch lesbian. Aunt May has loudly spoken of supporting gay people a lot since even before he cut his hair. Actually, he is gay, just not the way she thinks he is.
There is, however, one thing that keeps him sane. And, okay, maybe it sounds a little insane, but that thing is putting on his Spidey suit, fighting crime, and spinning webs. Yeah, Peter will admit that makes him sound completely crazy, but inside the Spidey suit is the only place he never gets misgendered. He pads the suit for muscles, binds, uses a packer, and deepens his voice as much as he can.
Aunt May, of course, has no idea about Spider-Man. Maybe she would have guessed if he was a cis guy, but the biggest secret she thinks he's keeping is that he's a lesbian. Possibly, that he's dating either Mary Jane or Gwen. (Which is very funny, because they're dating each other.)
In fact, not even Mary Jane or Gwen know he's a guy. Not even Harry Osborn. He knows they'd probably be fully supportive and accepting, but he just. Can't. There's been a few times he's come close to saying it, but his heart will start palpitating, and his breath will go funny, and by then it's already too late to be able to say it.
With all of that being said, it's kind of hard to believe that Tony Stark himself knows him to be a guy. And Captain America too. The man from Uncle Ben's old comics. (And doesn't the thought of Uncle Ben make Peter feel unhappy. He died thinking he had a niece called Penny.)
"Penny! I made you breakfast!" his Aunt May yells.
Peter sighs silently. "Coming."
His breakfast turns out to be hastily made waffles. It's one of Peter's favourites, but not even waffles can make up for the way Peter's stomach twists at the sound of that name. When Peter kisses his Aunt goodbye, it feels sad. He can tell she feels it too. Neither of them mention it. Peter skates to school.
"Hey Penny!" says Gwen as soon as she sees him, pinkie finger subtly linked with Mary Jane's.
"Hey." Peter responds despondently. Mary Jane and Gwen catch on immediately to how he feels. They exchange The Look. Uh oh.
"Penny," Peter tries not to flinch at the sound of the name "we know something's been bothering you, but we can't help if you don't tell us what it is. Harry's worried about you too, y'know."
Peter laughs insincerely. "I'm fine, guys."
Mary Jane shakes her head. "Penelope May Parker-" she pauses as Peter visibly recoils.
"Penny," she says, this time much softer "what's going on?"
Peter shakes his head. "Listen, not now, okay. Just ... ugh ... meet me here after school okay. We can talk then."
Why in fuck's name did I just say that, Peter thinks.
But Peter can already see how relieved Gwen and MJ are just to hear that, so he can't bring himself to take it back.
"Ugh." Harry says as he picks at his lunch.
Gwen rubs his shoulder. "It's okay, Har. You'll be able to move out soon, so just hold on till then."
"Easy for you to say." Harry groans.
"Hey," Peter says, biting his lip softly "what's going on?"
Harry looks up. "It's my dad again. Another ... another gay rant. He keeps telling me how he doesn't want a faggot for a son."
"Shit, Harry." Peter says. He doesn't know what else to say.
Harry nods. "Shit."
Mary Jane gives him a hug. "Hey, it's fine. I'm moving ASAP too. We can be roomies. "
"Sure. Bad dad roommates. Go team."
MJ and Harry share smiles that are closer to grimaces.
Peter feels guilty for even considering his problems to be worth listening to. He might be a closeted trans guy, but shit, at least there's no one he cares about who rants about how much trans guys should die.
"So, what is it, Penny?" Gwen asks, sharing a troubled look with Mary Jane.
Peter lets his head fall back to face the sky. He's going to say it. He thinks this could possibly be scarier than the first time he went out as Spider-Man.
"I'm." he says. MJ and Gwen look expectantly at him. He does not know how to say this. Why the fuck did it seem like a good idea?
"I'm not ... Penny.
It's not what either of them gad expected him to say. Well, neither had expected any one specific thing, but that was far away from anything they had considered.
MJ cleared her throat. "Uh, Pe- sorry ... what do you mean by that?"
He tilts his head further back. On some strange level, he felt like if he tilted his head far enough, it would fall off.
"I'm Peter. Not Penny. Please." is all he can force out.
The following silence makes the world seem like it's been put on pause. Not even the birds are making a sound. All he can hear is his own heartbeat drowning out the world.
Gwen, the angel, is the one who breaks the heavy silence. "What are your pronouns, Peter?"
He could cry with relief.
"He, him, his. But you can't use them around other people. No one knows."
At the same time, Gwen and MJ step forward and hug Peter. He fidgets uncomfortably at the contact, but smile and hugs back.
"What about your aunt? Does she know?" MJ asks him quietly.
He shakes his head.
That night, Spider-Man is doing well. He's just webbed three robbers to a wall. He's about to swing away when his Spidey-sense goes insane.
He freezes on the spot.
His head is ... pounding in pain. It's almost enough to stop him, except he knows whatever is out there is his responsibility. Even if it's too much for him, he can do a hell of a lot more than the average civilian. It's not like the Avengers are gonna come to deal with stuff like what he does, after all.
Peter follows his Spidey-sense to a warehouse, shoulders tense and raised, teeth gritted.
He can hear muffled screaming from inside. Very scared muffled screaming.
Despite how ... unsanitary it looks, Peter climbs the walls of the warehouse, up to the second floor. There's a broken window, and if he's careful enough, he can probably get in without ripping his suit.
He manages to get through the window with only a tiny, tiny sewable rip on his thigh.
Inside the warehouse is ... kind of cliché. The only source of light is the moon, and the windows cast odd shadows over the room, and there's at least one family of rats scurrying around, probably woken up by Peter himself. The most suspect thing in the room is the large quantities of unmarked crates. As Peter said, cliché.
From inside, the screams are less muffled, but that's enhanced hearing for you. They're coming from the first floor, that he knows, but he has no idea where he can get down from. -Well, that's a lie. The floor is rotted enough that he could fall through it.
Peter elects to use walls instead of the floor.
He makes it across two walls without incident.
"Where. Is. Your. Boss?"
Peter doesn't jump because of the fright whoever yelled that gave him. It's totally just his Spidey-sense.
Yep, his Spidey-sense made him jump right onto the very weak, very rotten floor.
...There it is. The sound of his body hitting the ground, the next floor down.
Peter stays down.
"Are you seeing this too?" the shouting guy says, except to Peter it sounds more like "errr yuseen istoo".
The screaming person just makes some sounds that make Peter's head hurt. He opens his eyes, but can't make any sense of the shapes and colours.
His eyes close again.
Peter scrunches his nose. It smells ... well, funky would be an understatement. He shifts onto his side.
"Ah! Shit!"
He can't remember why, but his ribs hurt like a motherfucker. Just breathing is agony.
"You're awake, baby boy!" calls an unfamiliar voice.
Peter's eyes fly open.
He's not in his room. He's lying on a stained sofa-he doesn't want to imagine what caused those-in his boxers and a shirt that is definitely not his own. There's a coffee table that's covered in old food wrappers, magazines, and guns-a lot of guns-in front of him, and behind him the wall is littered with bullet holes, bloody stains, and some posters.
Standing in what looks like the doorway to a kitchen is a man dressed in a red and black leather suit, with two katanas on his back, and a pink apron that has "kiss the cook" written in darker pink sharpie.
What the fuck?!