Work Text:
Peter’s whole body heaved with his breaths. He was feeling the ache in his muscles, which was starting to slow him at this point. His suit was stuck to his skin with sweat, and he felt suffocated.
Peter is used to the tough fight. He might have taken on the mantle of Spider-Man intending just to protect people from thieves, murderers, and rapists, but it quickly morphed into something more. Peter had the power to stop the psychos, to take down the villains, so it became part of the job. But some days he is brutally reminded that he is still mortal and has a limit. Even if that limit exceeds many, it still exists. And right now, he’s no longer fighting for the people, but for his life.
Something about this creature, for lack of a better term, had taken Peter off guard. It was fast and strong, but they usually are when they’re mutated. It had fangs and claws resembling a rodent of some kind, and it had been fond of using them. Peter can feel the blood running down his forearm where it got a decent latch on him. The pain was throbbing, and his brain was screaming at him to get a rabies shot.
He’s gotten little to nothing out of the creature. It doesn’t seem interested in talking to him, just mad that he had gotten in the way of its plan to mutilate some seemingly innocent people. There might be a connection between them and the rodent, but Peter didn’t know of it on account of the lack of talking from the creature.
But Peter had to get this thing down and fast. He was running out of steam because the thing was fast and had already gnawed through some of his webbing, unfortunately. Peter just couldn’t get close enough without getting shredded by the thing's claws. He was at the point where he was being left with no choice.
The creature had already taken Peter on a wild chase that has taken hours. It was time to end this, and if trying to keep a safe distance wasn’t going to work, nor was trying to get in meaningful hits as he swung past, it was time to get very physical.
The creature hunches over and snarls, its body poised to pounce, and not looking nearly as exhausted as Peter feels. What was even the point of his humble healing if he couldn’t even keep up with one giant man-rat hybrid?
“Y’know, I’m not sure that a prison cell is adequate housing for a pet your size, but it’ll have to do until I can afford something bigger,” Peter jumps down from his not-so-advantageous height and waits for the thing to strike. He’s not sure if egging it on is helping or hurting, but either way, it lunges for him.
Instead of dodging as he has been, Peter rushes forward and meets it halfway in a bruising impact. He tackles it to the ground, and its instinct is to thrash. Peter catches the claws, but he grits his teeth through the sting of pain and lands what should be a devastating punch to the creature's face. But it shakes it off like it’s nothing, so Peter tries an impact to its throat in the hopes of winding it.
No such luck, and the next thing he knows, the creature has grappled and pinned him down. The panic sets in when the thing starts shredding his suit like it intends to burrow through his flesh and into his chest. Peter’s worst reflex kicks in, and he flicks his head forward, headbutting the creature. It screams, and Peter instantly does it again despite the throb of his own head. It loosens its hold, and Peter manages to jab his knee into its side to topple its balance.
He takes the opportunity to wrestle it to the ground, face down, pinning it with his weight as he tries to shake the spots from his vision. He webs the creature's head to the cement first before he works on restraining the creature's whole body to the ground, trying to ensure it has no way to escape. It’s left completely pancaked to the ground, twitching and howling in rage, but unable to break free.
Relief sets in and the adrenaline crashes through Peter like a bus. He flops down beside it, still gasping for breath and aching all over. The unfortunate light of a police helicopter overhead blares down on him, as it has been for the past twenty minutes while he tried fruitlessly to detain this thing for them.
Peter’s hand drops to his torso to inspect the damage that the creature had inflicted. He barely feels any spandex left, but the cuts to his skin don’t feel nearly as bad as the puncture wound in his arm. Thankfully.
But feeling the damage causes another wave of horror to hit him. His head whips around, hearing the distant shout of voices, and his instinct is to cover up his exposed skin with both hands. While his scars are by no means fresh, they are prominent, and the voices are getting closer, making Peter’s heart feel as though it drops into his gut. He’s sure that it’s a police helicopter, but what if it’s the news? What if reporters are staring down at him, recording his exposed flesh, showing off his surgery scars?
Peter’s flight instinct kicks in hard, and without a second of hesitation, he scrambles to his feet and hightails it down the street. The spotlight tries to follow him, and the voices shout after him, but his heart is beating a million miles a minute, and all he’s thinking about is hiding. He ducks and weaves through backstreets until he’s sure that the helicopter has lost him, before he even thinks about scaling a building and swinging away. His heart beats so hard his throat feels tight, and his gut is unsettled. He can taste bile on his tongue, and his eyes start to burn with tears.
Over everything else, he was scared. The world could not know that Spider-Man was trans. It probably wouldn’t out him instantly, but it would make anyone who was in his life that knew him give him a second glance. May would question him relentlessly, and he would cave. But above all of that, he wouldn’t feel safe.
Other heroes could turn against him if they were bigoted. And Peter can’t count the number of times he’s been in a situation where he knows, if the horrible person that had him knew he wasn’t biologically male, they could have used that to their advantage. The world is horrible and terrifying, and Peter might not identify as a woman anymore, but he knows too well how the world treats anyone with that anatomy.
He’s so panicked that he loops his apartment ten times before he even considers going inside, ensuring that no one at all was following him or would see him. He stashes his suit, despite the tears and damage and locks himself in the bathroom as if someone else could be in the apartment. And only then does the full impact hit him, and he sinks to the floor and sobs. He’s usually so careful about these things, making sure no one could reveal any part of him. And tonight, his full chest was exposed to anyone close enough to peek.
The world would know by morning, and Peter was devastated.
- - -
Peter has barely moved for the past five days. He hasn’t had to leave the apartment because he just ordered in food when he needed it, and he called in sick to work, pretending to have a stomach bug. Low of him, he knows that, but the dread has kept him immobilised. He hasn’t watched the news; he hasn’t checked any social media at all, horrified that the world knew. No one has tried contacting him, though, which concerns him. Why haven’t they reached out? Are they waiting for him? Have they not put the pieces together? Was his identity safe, even if he felt like he wasn’t?
Peter had to assume that they would figure it out eventually. His behaviour would make it obvious, wouldn’t it? He was always coming up with random excuses for any physical injuries, always disappearing, and the people close to him know he’s trans; the pieces would just fit. And of course, he can try to deny it, but if anyone figures it out, it would be hard to lie his way out of it.
It’s while he’s once again overthinking it to the point of making himself feel unwell that there’s a sudden tapping noise at his window. His whole body tenses up, and his throat tightens. A knock at the door, and he could maybe ignore it and hope that maybe it was just a neighbour. A knock at his window, Peter knows there’s only very few people that would be there. He doesn’t want to move, though, and his mind is screaming at him to ignore it.
The knocking stops and starts a few times before there’s silence for long enough that Peter assumes whoever it was gave up. But then he hears the creaking of what sounds like someone trying to jimmy the lock. Peter grits his teeth and forces himself out of his bed, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, because he’s not in the mood. Only for any threats to die on his tongue because he doesn’t expect to see Wade on his fire escape. He lifts his head when he sees Peter standing in the doorway now, and his body visibly relaxes, tension falling from his shoulders as he lifts his hand and offers a slow wave.
Peter still contemplates crawling back into bed; Wade sees that he’s fine, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with anything right now. But Wade is the only person who already knew he was Spider-Man and that he was trans. If anyone can maybe understand, or at the least empathise, it was Wade.
Peter takes another moment to hesitate, to try collecting himself before he moves over to the window. And it’s as he unlocks it and slides it open that he realises how terribly he’s been looking after himself the last few days. He probably stinks, and he knows he looks like shit too, but Wade is probably also the least likely person to care about that.
“Hey, I’m glad you’re still standing. Got me all kinds of worried, baby boy.” Wade doesn’t hesitate to climb inside and grasp Peter’s biceps, looking him over like he’s uncertain that Peter is actually in front of him. Peter brushes his hands off, trying not to shove Wade away, but he does not have any interest in being touched right now.
“Yeah, I guess I’m fine.” Peter suddenly feels extremely exposed. Wade knows, but also, the world does now too. And he’s only in a shirt and shorts, and suddenly too much of him is showing. Peter doesn’t expect Wade to pull his mask off, because Wade hates being any kind of exposed himself, but maybe he can tell that Peter is uncomfortable.
“Did something happen? I know sometimes when you’re really beat up you take a couple days to heal, but you don’t usually just vanish like this.” Wade doesn’t try touching him again, which Peter appreciates, but he is still standing too close to him. Peter moves away, acting as though the movement was more to just move rather than feeling too close to Wade.
“You seriously haven’t heard anything?” And Peter doesn’t know how much attention Wade pays to the news, so maybe it’s believable he hasn’t seen that. But surely the news is spreading by word of mouth. Though maybe Wade isn’t privy enough to the gossip circles of other suits; how could Peter know?
“I mean, a couple of nights ago, I know you did get a little roughed up, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” Wade cringes like he feels guilty for that. Peter swallows thickly and starts scratching at his arm out of nervous habit. The wound was mostly healed, and he hadn't gotten any infection from any of the scratches, luckily. He feels so exposed, and either Wade genuinely doesn’t know or he’s trying to be gentle about the whole situation. Which Peter would hate.
“I got exposed; how much worse could it be?” Peter stresses, knowing that having an outburst isn’t helpful either. But he feels like he could be sick, and he feels wrong in his skin like he hasn’t in a while. He wants to claw his flesh off and tear his body to pieces.
Wade frowns and moves past Peter slowly, coming over to rest against the arm of his couch. “What do you mean? That thing never got your mask off?”
“Not my mask; it shredded the front of my suit,” Peter murmurs, gesturing vaguely toward his bedroom where the thing was still stashed away in his closet, as though that could save him. Wade’s still frowning, looking confused.
“I don’t… I’m not following, webs.” Wade shrugs, and he grimaces again like he’s expecting Peter to explode at him for not understanding. And it is frustrating, but Peter doesn’t have the energy to be mad. He does have to take in a slow, deep breath so that he keeps some of his cool, but he also cannot help the panic that’s constricting his chest.
“There was a helicopter following almost the whole fight because I couldn’t fucking get the thing to stay down. They would have seen everything once it tore my suit.” Peter clenches his hands, and his knuckles crack audibly. Wade’s confusion disappears after a moment, and he scoffs, clearly trying to hold back on a full laugh. Peter’s gut twists horribly hearing it.
“Are… wait, do you think that they got good enough footage from that to one, see your scars, and two, come to that conclusion even if they did?” Wade asks, hunching forward slightly from where he’s leaning against the couch still.
“What other conclusion is there?” Peter feels almost flustered in his hurt. Why is Wade holding back laughter? Why is he unable to hold back a smile? This has been eating Peter alive for days; it could devastate his whole life, and Wade thinks it’s funny.
Wade rubs his hand over his face, still fighting back chuckles. He covers his mouth for a moment, as though trying to contain himself. But it’s not working, and Peter hates that with the anger building in his chest, he can feel the beginning of tears burning his eyes. “Peter, Petey, look, I don’t mean to laugh, but that might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said.”
Peter almost snaps. His whole body tenses up, and the want to chew Wade’s head off is overwhelming. But more than that, he’s hurt. And that hurt makes him want to shut himself off from everything again. Because he thought that Wade would understand. He thought that Wade would support him, because he’s been nothing but kind and mindful since Peter came out to him. And now he’s laughing in his face.
“If you’re just here to make me feel worse, you can fucking leave.” Peter seethes, blinking rapidly to try and force his tears back. It’s bad enough that he’s so raw and exposed to Wade as is. Crying in front of him was just pathetic, especially when Wade doesn’t actually care about the situation.
“Wow, calm down, baby boy. Look, there’s no way anyone saw enough of you to even realise you have scars on your chest.” Wade holds his hands out like he’s trying to show he means no harm, but the ache in Peter’s chest can’t be ignored. At least he has the decency to wipe the smile from his face.
“It’s not like it was a little scratch.” Peter snarls, straightening his stance a little. He turns toward his room and, without much thought, storms in to retrieve his suit from the closet. He fumbles a little with it as he comes back to Wade, turning it to show off the front. “See? It’s completely shredded.” But Wade’s phone is in his hand, and he doesn’t even lift his gaze to it.
“Uh huh,” He murmurs, and Peter almost loses it completely, only to swallow back his argument when Wade holds his phone up in his face. “Here, look. This is the only footage the news even has of that night. The one thing they’re asking is why you took off in the first place. You vanished. They did not take a look at you and instantly clock you as trans. You’re okay, Peter.”
Peter watches the video, which is short and honestly somewhat grainy, as though it was filmed on a phone, and not a professional camera. When it stops, Peter instantly clicks the screen to get it to replay, and it’s clear that it’s not footage from the helicopter; that this was some random bystander who just happened to get a recording. It wasn’t a news helicopter; it was probably the police.
“But…” Peter goes to press the replay button a second time, but Wade pulls his phone back.
“Put it on.” He says, and Peter’s still trying to process what he just saw, because he was positive that the whole world had a full view of his chest and that everyone knew the truth.
“What?” He frowns, and the stupid tears that had been building in his eyes finally break free when he blinks, and that infuriates him more.
“Put your suit on, even if it’s over your shirt.” Wade’s voice is softer now, more gentle, like he’s trying not to make things worse. Peter glances down at the material in his hands, and for some reason, does as Wade said to do. It’s an awkward fit over his shirt, but the moment that it’s on, Peter traces over the slashes with his fingers. “Baby boy… It’s not even that bad.”
And Wade is right. The cuts are barely as thick as his fingers, despite being almost the full width of his chest. And there are only three of them. Peter could have sworn the whole front had been essentially shredded; practically torn from his body. But that wasn’t the case. “It… it felt worse at the time.” He mumbles, feeling embarrassed but still violated and scared.
“Yeah, you thought the entire world could see you. Of course, it felt bad. No one knows that Spider-Man is trans. Well, besides me, but I’m gonna die a thousand times with that secret.” Wade tries to go for some light humour, as he always does, no matter the situation. It was who Wade was, and usually Peter would appreciate the sentiment, but not tonight. His emotions are fried.
“...you’re certain they’re not going to figure it out?” Peter covers the gashes with his hand, as though he were still exposed despite the shirt underneath. Wade offers him a lopsided smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“Look, I can’t say for certain that there isn’t a clear enough frame that could fall into the right hands and that that person might assume… but no. I don’t think the world is going to figure it out collectively.” Wade sits on the arm of the couch again, folding his hands between his thighs. Peter toys with the edges of the damage in his suit, unable to think past the fear that the person Wade is talking about could very well already be trying to compile evidence to out him.
“All it takes is one person.” Peter murmurs, feeling further dread settle over him. No one clocks a trans person better than another trans person. And while not outing a fellow transgender person is a silent code among the community, Peter doubts he’s safe given that he’s so in the public eye. He’s a superhero, after all, and so he doesn’t get that anonymity.
“And then that one person has to actually be able to convince everyone else. It’s a long shot, Pete. Look, I know you’re trans, and I don’t think that this is showing enough.” Wade shrugs. But that was the problem; Wade knew, so he already sees Peter differently. His judgement is clouded by that, and so what might look like nothing to him could be the biggest giveaway to someone else. And you see yourself differently from everyone else, so Peter’s perspective is absolutely fucked.
“But what if it does?” Peter stresses, his fingers curling into his chest slightly. It probably doesn’t help that he’s wearing tight spandex over a shirt, but he feels like he’s being strangled.
“Hey, you’re gonna be okay. Even if they somehow figure out you’re trans, they’re not instantly going to know Peter Parker is Spider-Man.” Wade shrugs like it’s nothing, and Peter feels like he’s lost his mind.
“I won’t be safe, though. Even if they don’t figure it out, someone who knows me might. But forgetting all of that… I’ll be a target.” Peter’s whole body feels hot and itchy. He wants to get his suit off because he feels like breathing is too hard. But he knows if he tries getting it off, his shirt will probably go with it, and he does not need Wade to see anymore of him than what he can see right now.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Wade sounds sincere, and while Peter is sure he means it, it’s just not something he can see being plausible.
“You’re not always around, Wade.” Peter points out, more dismissively than he actually intends to sound.
“If it got out and you weren’t safe anymore, I could be.” Wade shrugs again, and Peter has to imagine that Wade doesn’t realise what he’s suggesting.
“Yeah, sure.” Peter scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m serious.” Wade stands up straight, moving away from the couch. Peter’s gut twists and his throat tightens slightly. It makes swallowing hard as he stares back at Wade. It’s clear he means it, that he intends to follow through, but Peter still has reservations.
He hesitates for a moment, assessing and trying to figure out how Wade would even be able to uphold that statement. “...why would you do that?”
“Seriously? You can’t think of a single reason why I might want to keep you safe? None at all?” Wade stands close, giving Peter a sceptical look. Peter feels as though he’s stopping himself from reaching out. Peter appreciates it.
And he can think of so many reasons. Wade has made it more than clear how he feels, and Peter knows that despite all of that, he respects Peter. “I’m not your responsibility,” Peter murmurs, lowering his gaze. His stupid face feels warm for a different reason now.
“I’m not going to look the other way if you need me, baby boy. Sorry to say, you’ve been stuck with me since you dragged my corpse to your home.” Wade tries for light, and while Peter can’t find anything humorous about this situation, it does help. Wade always does, because Peter’s heart is fond of him, and it makes him weak for the merc.
“I think I was stuck with you long before that.” Peter continues to say in a low voice.
“Maybe, but like… how the hell was I supposed to do anything else once you showed how much you care about a piece of shit like me?” Wade shrugs again, and Peter can’t help that he scoffs lightly. Of course he cared; how could he not?
“You’re… not that bad.” Peter offers, knowing that Wade isn’t going to believe him. Sometimes, he’s not even sure if he can fully believe it himself. But his fondness for the merc does cloud his judgement more than he would care to admit.
“It’s cute that you think that.” Wade hums and finally, he reaches out and nudges Peter’s chin up slightly, forcing him to meet Wade’s gaze again. Peter hates how safe he feels with Wade, if only because he knows that it’s pathetic above everything else. Wade’s never done anything to make Peter feel threatened or at risk, but he’s not exactly one of the “good” guys. He’s still a mercenary, through and through. And while Peter doesn’t think that Wade would ever take a mark against a hero, maybe there is the right price for his head.
But Wade has shown time and time again that he cares for Peter. Before he even saw his face or knew his name, Wade would protect him and defend him when he could, even if Peter didn’t think he needed it. And yeah, he knows that Wade’s very boyish crush is probably a major factor in that, but it stands. Because while Peter isn’t an asshole to Wade, he’s often dismissive and has been blunt in his disinterest, despite how untrue that has become over the years. And Wade hasn’t changed his tune. He still cares, and he still stands at Peter’s side. And Wade has made Peter feel more comfortable in his skin and who he is as a trans man like no one else could have. Because while Wade is respectful, to a degree, he’s still brash and very forward. That filter never existed, and Wade will say his mind without hesitation.
Peter takes in a slow breath and closes his eyes for a second to try regaining some of his thoughts. He still couldn’t know what would happen; if the world would figure out his secret or if he would be able to continue concealing himself, but at least he knew Wade was going to be at his side through whatever came his way. He didn’t have that support in anyone else; because how could he? Wade was the only person to know in full, both sides of him: Spider-Man and Peter Parker. It was still horrifying thinking about it, but it gave Peter some peace of mind. At least, at the end of the day, one person was there for all of him.
“...thank you for showing up.” Peter finally says, his hands falling to his sides instead of still clutching at his chest. Maybe it wasn’t over, and Wade’s overconfidence was nothing but delusion, but at least for a moment, Peter feels like he can breathe a little easier.
“I really was worried about you. As I said, you don’t usually vanish like that.” Wade clicks his tongue and shrugs. Peter can only imagine the internal turmoil Wade was enduring; not knowing if he was crossing a line by showing up but desperately needing to know that he was okay. Wade really is many things, but he’s never disrespected Peter’s boundaries.
“I was scared.” Peter knows that he’s stating the obvious, but it is his only explanation. His whole world was falling apart in his mind. And yet reality showed a very different perspective.
“I get it. I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Wade grasps Peter’s bicep in a very loose hold. Not so much hesitation, but a test of the limits. Peter still feels raw and exposed, but Wade’s touch isn’t too much. He covers Wade’s hand with his own and squeezes softly, encouraging a firmer grip from the merc.
“I think I need a couple more days to… get myself together again,” Peter admits. Because he trusts Wade, and he wants to believe that he blew this out of proportion and it's going to all fall behind him, but he just can’t shake the fear that easily.
“That’s fair. And I can fuck off if you want me to, or I can stick around if you need.” Wade releases his hold, which makes Peter realise he was still gripping his hand. He pulls away probably a little too fast in his embarrassment, but he tries to recover quickly.
“Some rational company might not be the worst.” He states, deciding to back up toward his room in the hopes of getting his stupid suit off. It was a smart idea on Wade’s part, because it showed Peter how wrong he was, but he’s been uncomfortable with it over his shirt the whole time, and the heat is starting to get to him.
“Barking up the wrong tree for that baby boy.” Wade laughs, maybe too dramatically for the situation. Peter rolls his eyes a little and steps around the doorframe and out of sight. Tugging the suit off is as hard as he thought it would be, and he gives up and allows his shirt to go with it.
“You know what I mean.” He huffs, more from the exertion of getting his sweaty clothes off than anything else. He leans back against the wall, running his thumbs over the gashes in his suit. They really are minimal, and his mind had been cruel to make him think otherwise.
“I do.” Wade hums, and Peter realises that he’s just standing there, outside of his bedroom, waiting for him. Peter pulls his suit against his chest, even though Wade can’t see him and wouldn’t dare try invading his space right now. Peter chews his bottom lip.
“I uh… need a shower.” He admits, because he definitely stinks from body odour and bed rotting the last couple of days has not helped, but also wearing two layers while he was on the verge of a panic attack has made him sweat so much worse.
“I can cook something that’s actually going to fuel your body while you do that.” Wade offers, and curse his stupid heart, Peter’s chest tightens as it beats a little faster. Why was Wade so damn good to him? He offered so much and asked for nothing in return, minus Peter’s company, which he was all too happy to give in the first place.
“There’s not really anything here for cooking.” Peter cringes just thinking about the state of his fridge. He wasn’t exactly up to date on his shopping list, and probably needed more than just some food, but he could worry about that another day.
“Grocery run first then. I’ll be back in fifteen.” Wade calls, and Peter realises all too late that he’s already heading for the door.
“Okay,” Peter murmurs as it closes, because there was no way he would have talked Wade out of it, even if he had the energy to. He inhales deeply and gives himself a moment to just process his thoughts before he even tries moving.
And if he spends five of those minutes that Wade is gone confirming with every news article, video, and image of him that he can find that Wade is correct in saying that his gender identity is safe, Wade doesn’t have to know that. But he does feel a whole lot better knowing that he wasn’t outed and that Wade would do whatever he could to protect him if it ever did happen.