below the surface →︎ trans peter parker

six

tony's pov

i slowly crawl out of bed. i try to be as quiet as possible while moving so i don't wake stephen up. its nearly two in the morning. i hear him shuffle around, but he doesn't speak so i can only assume he's still sleeping.

"what are you doing?" i hear him grumble.

damnit. i flick the desk lamp light on.

"i just can't shake the feeling that something's wrong peter. like... he's hiding something from us." i say, putting my hands on my desk and leaning on them.

"by us, you mean you." stephen says.

why is he always right? i let out a deep sigh.

"he's not your son. you don't need to worry about him all the time." he goes on, sitting up.

"i know. i know, but i can't help it. i just want to look out for the kid." i say, turning to face him.

"so don't sit here and stress about it. go ask him about it."

i think about it.

"in the morning. he needs to sleep. we need to sleep. i shouldn't be doing this again."

"and what is this, exactly?" stephen asks.

"being over dramatically anxious at two o'clock in the morning. i'm sorry i woke you up." i say, walking back over to the bed.

"don't apologize. i know you'd do the same if i were stressed out this early. just come back in bed and we'll continue dealing with this at a reasonable time." he says, sinking back into bed.

"you're right. you always are." i say.

i lay close enough to him for him to wrap his arms about me. i like this, it makes me feel safe and secure. even if the world was freezing over, it would still be warm in his arms. warm and safe.

-

i slept most of the night. i woke up early to try and come up with some sort of speech to confront peter. i walk into his room, expecting him to be just waking up.

but all i see is an empty, messy bed.

i shouldn't. i really shouldn't.

but when has that ever stopped me before?

searching teenagers rooms is not exactly how i thought i'd be spending my days, but curiosity consumes me sometimes.

i look around his bed, moving the blankets a bit— nothing. i walk over his to desk and open some of the drawers. they're pretty empty except for a few pens and pencils, and an empty green spiral notebook.

i look under his bed. there's two odd half-tank tops laying there. i assume its another teenage trend that i'm just not caught up with.

i walk over to his bathroom. i start to wonder if i'm taking it too far. but nonetheless, i persist. i walk to the mirror-cabinet above the sink and open it. and my heart drops to my stomach, and simultaneously flies to my head and beats in my head.

theres a syringe and a small bottle of- jesus, i don't even know. seeing the syringe has me fuming enough already. i grab it and walk as hard and fast as possible to the kitchen.

when i get to it, all i see is steve and bucky, both leaning on the counter drinking coffee and smiling.

"where is peter." i say, sounding more like a statement than a question. steve points to the entrance to the living room. i walk over.

as i enter the room i see peter sitting on the couch flicking through channels, with wanda next to him and natasha in the chair next to the couch. she picks her head up from whatever book she's reading and reads my expression immediately.

"tony, whats wrong?"

i look at peter directly in his eyes. he looks confused.

"what the fuck is this?" i say, holding the syringe up.

"you searched my room?" he yelled.

"answer me!" i yelled at him. everyone poured into the room.

-

peter's pov

i feel like im going to cry and faint and puke all at once. my chest is heavy. i feel like the world is going to collapse in on me.

"why did you search through my stuff?" i yelled, standing from the couch.

"peter, you're what, 14? you can't shoot up at four-fucking-teen years old. you can't shoot up ever!" he continues to yell.

"peter, you're doing drugs?" bruce asks, taking off his glasses.

"what the hell?" natasha adds.

"i'm not doing drugs!" i yell.

"then what is that?" natasha yells, pointing to the syringe tony is holding up.

"its- i-..." i can't spit it out.

it's not supposed to happen this way.

i'm supposed to choose who i tell and when i tell them and how that's my decision.

now is not the time. i try to push words but they won't come out. my breathing is heavy.

"peter, why are you doing drugs?" bucky asks.

"i'm not."

"then what is this!" tony says, coming closer to me and almost shoving the syringe in my face.

"it's fucking testosterone! im transgender, so i take testosterone by stabbing my leg with that, and i wear a stupid binder to flatten my chest, and i didn't tell you because then you'll only see me as that." i try to stop but everything starts coming out like word vomit.

"i was born a girl, but im not one, ok? and i didn't tell you because i wasn't fucking ready. it wasn't supposed to happen this way. i get to choose who i tell, when i tell them, how i tell them, an-and that's, jesus fucking christ, i-"

"peter!" steve yells. its louder than my screaming, and it shuts me up. "relax."

i look at everyone. i realize my eyes are blurred from tears and my breathing is still loud and heavy. i'm so close to tony's face theres probably a pool of spit sprayed all on him.

"fuck." i say before walking- no, running away. i start running, out of the facility, all the way to god knows where. theres tree's everywhere? its new york, how are there so many trees where i am? thats when i know i'm really lost.

and not just direction wise. im so lost. i drop to my knees, my hands keeping me up on the ground.

my heart is pounding in my chest, i can feel the rapid beat in my ears. i'm breathing only in gasps and can't seem to stop it. i raise myself up and lean against a tree i notice is right behind me.

and then i just fucking sob.