In which Peter Parker gets the chance to tell everyone who he is.


Before I knew what had happened – and had a chance to bow out – I found myself sandwiched between my guardian and Black Widow, the eyes of the Earth's Protectors latched firmly upon me as I fiddled with the glass in my hands, unfortunately filled with only orange juice.
"I… I'm glad to be here. I'm sorry. I… I wanted to help, and…" I stammered, feeling my face flush violently, unable to meet any of the intense gazes currently trained on me. "When Tony – Mr. Stark – when he got in touch and asked for my help, I…"
A gentle hand found my trembling knee, and I glanced up into the kind gaze of Natasha Romanoff. "Peter… It's already forgotten. You're not the only one here who raised a hand against another. We've already forgiven one another for what happened."
"And that includes you, kid," Tony added, nudging me with his shoulder. "We have enough to fight against without adding one another to that list. And besides – like I said, you're my son. You have more right to be here than anyone else." His voice was calm, eyes brokering no disagreement as he examined the group, nodding with satisfaction when nobody objected. My heart bloomed once more at his words, a sense of belonging and gender euphoria flowering in my chest.
"Tell us more about you," Steve prompted in the silence that followed, leaning forward, taut forearms resting on his knees.
I took a deep breath, settling the nerves that still waged inside my mind despite their reassurances. "I… Well, I'm Spiderman. I was, y'know… bitten by a spider. I guess it was a couple of years ago now? I-"
I was interrupted by Bruce clearing his throat, shooting me a sympathetic smile. "No, Peter. Tell us about you. The kid – not the hero."
I blinked back the tears that pricked at my eyes suddenly, fighting the urge to sob. "Uh," I started, voice wavering and cracking with emotion, "I… I didn't think… Aren't I only here as Spiderman?"
Natasha nudged me gently, shaking her head, red curls tumbling around her shoulders. "Of course not. You're Spiderman, yes. Our teammate. But you're also Peter Parker – our friend." She shrugged softly. "We can get to know Spiderman whenever. We're more interested in Peter."
I grinned broadly, heart aching. "Well, I guess the first thing you should know is that… It's not Peter Parker anymore. It's Peter Parker-Stark."
"… So, yeah. I got woken up when it was basically still dark outside because he couldn't wait to tell me that it was official."

My cheeks ached from smiling, salted as they were by the tears I'd shed as I spoke about growing up, accepting my gender identity and the subsequent fallout with May. Even recounting my life to date had been a rollercoaster of emotion, emphasised by euphoric highs and crippling lows, and it was a feeling reflected on the face of everyone gathered around me, their mouths somewhat parted in shock, horror, and joy.
"Tony did all that?" Hawkeye – Barton – clarified incredulously, watching my guardian closely. "Wow. I didn't know he had it in him."
Tony laughed easily, ruffling my hair. "He's a good kid. I'd do it all again, without hesitation."
I grinned once more, and Natasha's arm found its way around my shoulders, moving me to rest against her side. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, though, Peter. Most of us know first-hand what it is to have… Less-than-perfect family lives." Her gaze surveyed the group slowly, several of the heroes nodding and murmuring their agreement. "But you're safe here now, Peter."
"I have a question," Captain Rogers blurted suddenly, the tips of his ears redding infinitesimally as the team turned their attention to him. I motioned for him to continue, and he cocked his head thoughtfully. "When… I mean, when last we met, we didn't know… That is, your name wasn't Peter," he stammered, and I winced at the foreshadowing of an uncomfortable query. "And- and Tony explained it to us. But… I don't know. I guess I'm just from a different time. There were people like you, of course there were – but I never knew any of them. I guess what I'm trying to ask, is… What is it like?"
The dread faded in my chest, and I offered him a tentative smile. "I know some of your history, Captain Rogers. Steve," I corrected quickly as his mouth opened, grinning briefly. "About the experiments, and being rejected from the army. I guess it's… It's a little like that. You knew who you were, and who you should be. It's just that your body – the world - told you otherwise."
Captain America looked down at his thickly muscled forearms and broad hands as if seeing them for the first time, and nodding slowly. "I suppose… Yes, I think I know exactly what that is like." His head raised once more, an easy smile on his face. "Thank you, Peter. I hope I caused no offence."
I shook my head adamantly, touched by his concern. "Not at all," I enthused, my gaze travelling around the rest of the group. "I'm very open about who I am. I know it may not always be easy to understand, but I can definitely answer any questions you might have."
"I can't say I know how you feel," Bruce began quietly, drawing my eye to him as he shuffled forward, "but I think… I think that most of us can understand what it is to be misunderstood – even hated – for who we are."
There was a murmur of agreement around the ring, and I touched a hand to my chest gently. "It means a lot to hear you say that, guys. Really."