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Peter woke up feeling bad. It was a gut feeling, something was wrong.
As he sat up in bed he knew what it was immediately. He could feel the thin fabric of Mr.Stark’s faded old tee shirt rub against his chest and he knew - dysphoria.
When he got out of bed and half-heartedly started getting ready for the day it only got worse. The voice in his head said you’ll never be a real boy, who do you think you're fooling?
Go away, Peter begged it, running his hands through his curly brown hair. He put his binder on before heading downstairs for breakfast which was earlier than usual but he didn’t care.
“Morning kid,” Tony said from his place at the kitchen island. When Peter didn’t answer and kept staring at the floor miserably Tony frowned. “Everything alright underoos?” he asked cautiously.
Peter gave him only a shrug. He felt bad blowing off his mentor but he didn’t want to talk and hear his stupid high-pitched, squeaky voice. A girl’s voice, his brain supplied.
Mr.Stark wouldn’t understand anyway.
He trudged his way through breakfast then went back upstairs to get dressed, ignoring Mr.Stark’s concerned looks.
When he got back up to his room however everything went wrong.
He undressed and stood in front of the floor length mirror in nothing but his boxers. The feeling in his gut got stronger, a mini tsunami of anxiety and pain was swirling in his stomach. Peter examined his body in the mirror. Round hips, a round chest, a round face, short legs, and small hands and feet greeted him.
A surge of dysphoria so strong it almost knocked him backwards hit him. I will never be a boy he thought. Unless…
He knew he shouldn’t, every single Advice For Transmen video on Tiktok told him he shouldn’t over bind or bind too long. But.. he couldn’t live with this feeling, he just couldn’t.
Peter first grabbed a roll of trans tape. He peeled off generous sections and wrapped it as quickly and firmly around his chest as he could, tugging hard at the ends even though he knew it’d give him blisters later.
His face set with determination, he then grabbed a roll of duct tape. Just to secure the trans tape, he thought. Not even to bind because that was bad. He cut off pieces with a pair of scissors and laid them vertically along the edges of the tape, pulling it even tighter. When he put his arms down the tape burned where it sat underneath his armpits. He hardly noticed the pain, not even close to satisfied yet.
Peter dug through his wardrobe until he found an older binder and a newer one. He pulled the older and more worn out one on first the layered the newer unbroken-in one on over the top.
It hurt like a bitch. His armpits stung every time he moved his arms, his shoulders were tight from the straps of two binders and he could already feel the area around his ribs aching from the pressure of the bands.
He moved to stand in front of the mirror. He was flat. He gave a small smile, it had worked.
The reflection in the mirror was far from perfect but he’d fixed a large part of it. See, he thought to himself, I got this.
Peter finished getting dressed, wearing the baggiest pants and shirt he owned along with a thick jacket which he left unzipped to hide his chest from the side view.
When he went downstairs he felt slightly better despite the pain that was beginning to emanate from his ribs.
“Hey Mr. Happy,” He called as he walked down the stairs and spotted the man waiting for him.
Happy gave him a grunt of “hey kid,” and gestured towards the car, unaware that anything wasn’t right.
As he passed Tony though the superhero gave him an odd look which seemed to be a mix of anxiety and guilt. “Have a good day ok,” Tony said.
Peter nodded.
At school though it was like nothing had changed. As soon as he saw other people - other cis male people - his heart stopped in his chest and he felt a ball of anxiety sitting in his stomach.
Is my chest flat enough? He thought as a group of football players rushed past him.
Oh god my thighs… He winced internally when he walked past a cluster of well dressed skater guys sitting outside the bathrooms.
“Hey, Peter!” Ned called from across the hallway.
Peter turned to greet his friend. “Oh hey Ned,” he said quietly.
Ned’s face scrunched in confusion. “You ok man?” he asked.
Peter shrugged, trying to play it off. “Yeah, my dysphoria’s just kinda bad right now,” he said.
Ned’s eyebrows shot up in concern. “I’m sorry dude,” he said, looking worried and sympathetic.
Peter nodded. He knew Ned didn’t get it. How could he get it when he was cis and straight? A flash of anger towards his friend went through him at that moment. Ned would never understand, he thought.
Peter brushed the thought off though. Better to keep Ned distracted so he wouldn’t know how truly bad Peter felt.
“How’s the new millenium falcon lego set going?” He asked which sent Ned into a gleeful spiral about the crazy new tech. Peter sighed in relief, this was better than answering questions.
In math he shared the class with Flash. Of course.
Before the class started students were mingling outside the locked door to the classroom waiting for their teacher to arrive, Flash among them. Peter tried to slip around the corner, hoping Flash wouldn’t notice him.
No luck though. Flash saw him and an evil smirk overtook his face. “Hey Penis Parkerrr!” He called out. The students around him turned to see Peter.
“Shut up Flash,” Peter muttered under his breath, ducking down the hallway.
Flash wasn’t done with him yet though, “Where do you think your going Penis?” he jeered, following Peter down the hallway.
“Leave me alone,” Peter said, not turning around as he speed-walked away from the bully.
“Oh poor Penis Parker, gonna call your daddy to come get you?” Flash taunted.
Peter opened his mouth to retort when he heard, “that’s enough boys, get to class.” A hall monitor. Thank god for hall monitors.
Peter practically jogged to class trying to keep his spirits up. She called you a boy did you hear that? He thought. But the other voices in his head were more powerful, the ones that said Flash was right.
He trudged through math spending the majority of the time tugging on his shirt to pull it away from his chest and adjusting his jeans to hang off his thighs. He hardly raised his hand so the teacher ended up having to call on Flash a lot more since the two of them answered the most questions in that class. Flash smirked superiorly the whole time but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care.
At lunch he found Ned and Mj and took a seat next to them in the hallway because their school allowed people to eat wherever they wanted and MJ thought eating in the cafeteria was conforming.
“Sup loser,” MJ said when she saw him, the usual greeting from her.
“Hey,” Peter said then flinched at the sound of his uncertain and high pitched voice.
MJ noticed, frowning in concentration. Then it clicked, “that bad huh?” she asked.
He nodded and silently took a seat next to her on the green tiled floor. Her and Ned left him alone most of lunch, MJ going off on a rant about the class discussion she’d had about abortion rights and some bigoted guy who thought it’d be cool to call women ‘whiney’. Peter was glad for the distraction and he tried to listen to their conversation to keep his mind off things but that was hard to do with how much his ribs ached.
Every time he inhaled a burst of pain shot up from his ribs to his lungs. In fact it was getting increasingly hard to breathe. Push through it Parker, he thought to himself, this is what superheroes do right?
Lunch ended quickly, the time seeming to vanish and Peter stood up to head to his next class without realizing he’d hardly eaten a bite.
Ned kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked to their next class - PE - which they had together.
When they reached the locker rooms Peter paused. Ned walked right on to the boy’s locker rooms to get changed into the mandatory shorts and Midtown High tee shirt but Peter couldn’t stand the thought of looking at his body right now.
Usually he went to his own private gender neutral locker room that he had a key for but today he walked straight to the gym instead. Better to take the knock down in points then see his reflection.
The gym coach frowned when he saw Peter. “Want to explain to me why you're not changed yet Parker?” he asked accusingly, pointing a stubby finger at Peter.
“Um I left my clothes at home cause I was…washing them.” He quickly lied.
The coach nodded impatiently and gestured to the wooden floors of the gym, “fine then start your warm up laps.”
Peter walked for a minute. He could feel his ribs aching and his lungs closing up. It’s cuz of the binder you idiot, his rational brain told him. But then Flash’s words from earlier came back to haunt him and he thought, no, taking it off will just make everything worse.
He glanced back towards the coach. The man was watching him with frustration clearly written on his face. Taking a deep breath he had no choice other than to start running.
The other students began to trickle in as Peter ran his first lap. Ned shot him a confused look when he saw that Peter wasn’t changed but didn’t say anything as he started running next to him.
They jogged in silence, Peter trying to keep air flowing to his lungs and Ned happily trotting along.
His chest heaved underneath his binder. Oh god, he thought, glancing over at Ned.
“Hey man are you-” Ned started to say before the world went black and the ground pitched under Peter’s feet.
When he woke up Iron Man was standing over him. “D- Tony?” he said.
“Yeah, yeah it’s me kid, jesus you scared me.” Tony looked like he’d aged ten years with the worry etched in his face. He carefully ran a shaking hand through Peter’s hair.
“Let’s get you out of here underoos,” He said.
Only then did Peter take the time to look around. His class was clustered on the other side of the gym staring at him along with emergency personnel.
He froze. Tony must have seen the look on his face because he said, “I know.”
Peter tried to sit up but Tony gently pushed his shoulders back. “Nu uh, no more collapsing for you,” he murmured before scooping the boy up bridal style.
“T-Tony!” Peter protested weakly as he clung to the man’s shoulders, his arms automatically wrapping around his mentor’s neck.
Tony didn’t pay him any attention, instead turning to the teacher. “Right, I’m going to take him home now where he’ll get better medical treatment then at this place and none of you are going to say a word about this. Got it?”
Peter caught a glimpse of the gym coach doing an impressive impersonation of a fish with his mouth hanging wide open. Then they were gone.
Tony didn’t say anything as they got in the car except to tell Peter to take it easy when he placed him in the backseat. Peter felt a wave of guilt over making his mentor come all the way out here when he probably had important billionaire things to do.
All he could do though was rest his head against the cold window of the car and feel miserable.
Not until they were safely up to the Avenger’s private floor and alone did Tony say a word.
“So,” he said, sitting across from Peter on the couch and running a hand through his hair wearily, “what happened?”
Peter shrugged, trying to play it off even as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t keep anything from Mr.Stark anyways. Tony’s gaze met his, patiently waiting for him to explain.
“I - just felt really bad,” Peter paused, Tony nodded, “and I um over binded cause I felt so dysphoric.” He explained in a rush of words. He stared down at the stitching of the couch. He knew what was coming.
“Peter, I know it sucks but you really really can’t do that bud.” Tony said.
Peter felt a wave of anger wash over him. Tony had no idea what he was talking about - no one did. “How could you know?!” He exploded, “You have no idea!”
He glared furiously at Mr.Stark who sat back looking - sad? Why did look sad? Oh god no this was all his fault and now Mr. Stark was gonna be mad and kick him out and… no one ever could really know could they? Peter was all alone.
All the fight went out of him at that moment. He slumped forward. “I’m so sorry I-” he started to say.
“No, I’m sorry,” Tony cut him off. The look on the older man’s face was profoundly sad. “I should have told you sooner,” he said.
Peter looked at him in confusion. Told him what?
“Oh kiddo, I do understand,” Tony said, lifting the hem of his ratty tee shirt to expose - scars. Top surgery scars to be exact. Right underneath the glowing blue arc reactor.
Peter gasped. “Holyyy shittt…” he breathed.
Tony gave a short self-deprecating laugh, “I know right,” he said, lowering his shirt.
“You’re-” Peter gaped at the man. “How did I not know?”
Tony rubbed a hand over his beard, “Trans, yeah, and no one knows kid. Not even the other Avengers. Only Pepper and Howard and now you.”
Peter stared at his mentor in shock. “But you're so old! You have gray hairs! And -” he felt his throat close up, “we get to live that long?” he whispered.
Tony pulled Peter into his lap close to his chest, right over his heart. He held him tightly, cheek to cheek as they both shed a few tears. “Yeah kiddo, we do.” he whispered into Peter’s curly hair.
“And you know I’m gonna get you back for that old comment right?” Tony added with a smirk.
His laughter made his chest vibrate under Peter’s head.
“Of course,” Peter murmured back.