Pairing: Peter Parker x Transgender!MaleReader
Warnings: Mentions of homophobia, swearing, bullying, transphobia
Summary: There’s a new guy at Midtown School of Science & Technology. There’s something a little off about him, but Peter feels drawn to him nonetheless. Then when Peter stumbles across Y/N’s secret, he finds himself determined to protect and defend him, even if it means dragging Y/N behind him kicking and screaming.
A/N: Who the hell am I kidding? This was never gonna be a oneshot.
Flash Thompson reached out and slammed the door of your gym locker shut just as you were reaching for your backpack. You had just transferred to Midtown after getting kicked out of your old private school, and Flash had been on you since day one. You were starting to wonder when he would get bored and move on.
You smiled at him. “Yeah, Flash?”
Flash smirked over his shoulder at his boys before turning his attention back to you. “Why do you always get changed in the stalls, Y/N?” he asked. “You, uh, you hiding something?”
Your face paled but you still scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, Flash,” you told him. “I’m fucking Spider-Man. Wanna see my suit?”
Peter stood at the end of the aisle by his own locker, watching the exchange silently. It was a relief that Flash had finally found a new target to pick on, but he knew he couldn’t let this go on – Flash was treating you worse than he had ever treated Peter. Not that it wasn’t obvious why. You were an easy target, stuck in that awkward phase of puberty where you had a baby face and a voice that cracked and broke constantly.
“Bullshit,” Flash spat at you. “A little bitch like you is Spider-Man?” He reached out and shoved you into the lockers behind you. “C’mon, Spider-Man, fight back.”
Peter watched you set your face into a scowl and for a second it looked you were about to tackle Flash, but there was no way you could take him. You were too small. “Hey, Eugene!” Peter called out, knowing how much Flash hated being called by his birth name.
Flash turned slowly to face Peter. “Problem, Penis Parker?” he demanded.
Peter pulled his T-shirt on over his head before he answered, making sure Flash got a good view of his muscular abs and biceps as he did so. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Peter shot at him.
Flash stormed down the narrow aisle between the lockers. He reached out and grabbed Peter by the neck of his shirt. “You think just because you got some meat on you I won’t end you, Parker?” he spat, shoving Peter backwards so that he stumbled over the bench and into the row of lockers.
Peter scowled at Flash, seething.
All of you looked up to see Coach Kirkpatrick coming out of his office. “What’s going on out here?” the coach demanded.
“Nothing, Coach,” Flash said, never looking away from Peter. “Right, Parker?”
Peter turned his gaze to the potbellied coach. “That’s right, sir.”
Kirkpatrick nodded, his hands on his hips. “Uh-huh,” he said. Then he turned to you. “Y/N, I’m gonna need to talk to you in private. The rest of you can go.”
Peter watched in disbelief as the other boys filed out of the locker room. Then he crossed the room to where you stood with the coach. “Sir,” he started. “Y/N didn’t do anything wrong –”
You cut him off. “Stay out of it, Parker. Nobody asked you.”
“Peter,” Kirkpatrick sighed. “This is between Y/N and myself. Don’t worry. He’s not in trouble, but you need to get to your next class.” Then he turned and guided you into his office.
Peter did not go to his next class. He stood outside the locker room, texting Ned, waiting for you to come out. Finally, after nearly twenty minutes you emerged from the boys’ locker room. When you saw Peter, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The boy was cute but stupid, otherwise he would have just left you alone.
You walked past Peter and continued down the hallway towards your class with a late slip in hand. Peter followed after you. “What did he want?” Peter asked. “He didn’t try to blame you for that, did he?”
“Why do you care?” you shot at him.
Peter jogged ahead of you and froze directly in front of you, blocking your path. “Hey, I’m just trying to being your friend here, Y/N. Everyone needs a friend, right, and you think I don’t know the rumors – I don’t care about those –”
“You don’t know shit,” you spat, pushing past him. You looked at him over your shoulder as you walked away. “And next time you think I need saving just fucking don’t. Got it?”
“So,” Ned said later that day, sitting down next to MJ at their usual table in the cafeteria. “Y/N got kicked out of school for being gay?”
“Supposedly,” Peter said, sitting down across from the two of them. “I guess it was one of those ultra-conservative Christian private schools or something.”
“Either way, it’s fucked,” MJ said, spearing a Brussels sprout with her fork. “No wonder he’s so pissed off all the time.”
“I just feel bad for him, you know?” Peter said, sprawling his arms out across the table and resting his face against the cool, laminate surface. “I mean, it’s easier for me….” His voice drifted off aimlessly.
The subject of Peter’s latent bisexuality was a subject they usually avoided talking about. He had been open about it for a long time, but then Flash got a hold of Peter’s phone one day, saw the bi pride lockscreen, and hence the nickname Penis Parker. Peter tried to laugh it off at first, but then the nickname caught on, and he had nearly been jumped by Flash and some of his lackeys. The only thing that had saved him was the coincidence of vice principal just happening upon the group of boys on one of his patrols of the school. Flash and the others had been suspended due to the school’s zero tolerance policy. As for Peter, the vice principal had told him simply, “Date whoever you want, son, but maybe try not to be so overbearing about it.” And, just like that, Peter had found himself forced back into the closet.
“Peter,” MJ said, clearing her throat and breaking him of his reverie. “Just because you can pass as straight when you like a girl, that doesn’t make things any easier for you. Biphobia and bisexual erasure are more prominent in the LGBTQIAP community than ever –”
She was cut off by the sound of the bell ringing, signaling the start of the next period.
“I get what you’re saying, MJ,” Peter said, gathering his books into his backpack and getting to his feet. “But it doesn’t feel very prominent.”
Peter rarely encountered you after that day. Gym was the only class the two of you had together, and Coach Kirkpatrick had given you special permission to spend the periods in the weight training room. Peter noticed that you made sure to stay in there long after Flash and his goons were gone, probably to avoid anymore harassment.
Then one day after gym class had ended, Peter got called to stay behind to help collect basketballs and somehow ended up being the only one left in the boys’ locker room. Or, at least, that was what he thought. When he got the aisle where your locker was, he froze. A slender figure stood in front of your locker, facing away from him, the firm straps of not one but two sports bras zigzagging across their back. Their hair was cut boyishly short and the small of their back gave way to an almost feminine waistline.
Slowly, Peter reached out and placed a hand on the person’s shoulder. “Excuse me, miss –” he started to say but then immediately fell silent when you spun around to face him.
Peter stared at you, gaping. You had a boy’s face and a boy’s haircut, and you were dressed in boy’s gym shorts. Yet beneath the layered sports bras peaked out two medium sized breasts, and the longer he stared the more he noticed your wide, feminine hips and long, slender, hairy legs. Then he saw behind you in your locker what could be described as a silicone, Caucasian-colored penis.
“Y-Y/N,” Peter spluttered finally. “Are you a –?” Then he stopped because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. He gestured to the silicone cock in your locker and hissed, “Did you bring a dildo to school?!”
You stared at him helplessly before sighing and pressing a hand to your forehead. “Oh, fuck me,” you groaned in annoyance. Then you looked back up at him and said, “No, it’s not a fucking dildo, Parker – it’s my dick.”
Peter stared at you as if you were insane. You had breasts and – he was making assumptions now – other, working female parts. How could you – then the rest of his brain began to catch up with him. “Are you a gi–?”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you hissed, scowling at him. “I’m a guy, Parker. One hundred percent male.”
“O-okay,” Peter said, nodding almost afraid of what you would to do to him if he were to point out your female attributes. “So, then, you must be – um – transgender, I guess. Is that right – unless you’re intersex, maybe?”
You shook your head, laughing humorlessly. “You were right the first time. I’m a trans dude.”
Peter sank down onto the changing bench, nodding as he tried to wrap his head around this. “Okay,” he said. “And that thing in your locker –”
“Is called a packer,” you told him. “It goes in my boxers, and I pee out of it. That one is my spare.” You nodded to the one in your locker.
“So is this why you always –?” Peter began but broke off when he heard the sound of the locker room door opening.
“Shit!” You hissed, grabbing your clothes out of your locker and darting towards the changing stalls.
Peter immediately leapt to his feet and slammed the door of your locker shut, so no one would see the packer.
Peter spun and saw Flash standing there, staring at him. “Oh, hey, Flash,” he said maybe a little too loudly. “What are you doing here?”
Flash strode down the aisles to where his locker was and said simply, “Forgot my phone.” Then he looked up at Peter as he spun the dial on his lock. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I had to help collect balls – er, basketballs,” Peter amended quickly, his cheeks blazing brightly.
Flash threw open the door to his locker, grabbed his phone, and then shut the door again. “Okay,” he said, nodding, considering. “But what are you doing at Y/N’s locker?”
At that exact moment, you burst out of a stall with your gym bag in hand, chest flattened, and feminine waistline hidden by a pair of loosely-fitting Levi’s. You froze when you saw Peter standing by your locker. “What the hell, Parker?!” you demanded. “Were you going through my shit?!”
“Wha-what – no!” Peter stammered, looking from you to Flash and back again. “You and I –”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Flash laughed, raising a hand to silence Peter. “Are you telling me that you two were alone in here together – what, were you two in here hooking up or something?”
Peter’s face turned, somehow, even redder than before. “I had no idea that sh-he was even in here!”
“No, it all makes sense now,” Flash said, snapping his fingers while you simply stared in horror. “Why Penis Parker is always standing up for the class homo – because he’s fucking him! Oh, this is perfect!” He began typing away on his phone, no doubt getting ready to send out a group text.
Your mouth moved wordlessly, uselessly. Until, finally, you managed to choke out, “Look, that’s really not –”
“Yeah, don’t care,” Flash said, shoving his phone in his pocket. A few seconds later, both yours and Peter’s phone pinged with a text alert. “Later, losers,” he added, pushing past Peter on his way out of the locker room.
It was silent in the locker room as Flash exited it. Then you and Peter both stood in stunned, awkward silence unsure of what to do next. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered finally, sinking down onto the floor and pulling one knee to your chest.
“You know, that floor is really dirty,” Peter said, saying the first thing that popped into his head.
You squinted at him in confused disbelief. “So is there a reason why Flash would think we’re hooking up?”
Peter raised his eyebrows at you and sat down, facing you, on the bench in the center of the aisle. “You haven’t heard?”
You shook your head. “The only thing I heard about you is that you’re, like, stupid smart and got an internship at Stark Tower,” you told him truthfully.
“Oh,” Peter said, suppressing the urge to flinch at the memory of Tony Stark. It had been almost a year since his mentor had died in the battle against Thanos, and it still hurt to think about. “I guess it’s old news by now then, but I’m kind of bisexual.” He said it in a hushed whisper, so low you almost didn’t hear it. Like it was something to be ashamed of.
“And Flash knows?” you guessed to which Peter merely nodded. “And that’s why he calls you –”
“Penis Parker, yeah,” Peter finished for you, smiling grimly.
You scoffed. “What a load of bullshit. You should kick his ass.”
“No, no, I shouldn’t,” Peter said, shaking his head. “What I’m supposed to do is lie low, but thanks to this –” he gestured to himself and you and back again. “And Flash’s big mouth, that’s not possible anymore.”
“It’s no big deal if you’re dating another guy, Parker,” you told him. “It’s fucking 2024. No one gives a shit about that stuff anymore.”
“Okay then, so why aren’t you out as a trans guy?” Peter countered.
You stared at him for a moment like he was quite possibly the stupidest person on Earth. “You ever heard of Brandon Tina?” you asked him. “They made a movie about him in the 90s – Boys Don’t Cry.” Peter shook his head. “What about Marsha P. Johnson?” Again, Peter shook his head. “Those are both transgender people who were murdered, except Marsha got off lucky if you ask me. Assholes raped poor fucking Brandon before they killed him.” You rose to your feet and stalked past him to your locker. You spun the dial on the lock and threw your gym bag inside of the locker before retrieving your backpack and tossing your spare packer inside of it. “I got thrown out of private school for being transgender because the teachers didn’t want to make accommodations for me, like using my proper name or pronouns. And because the school board decided that it would be inappropriate for me to use the boys’ bathrooms or locker rooms, but most importantly because I am an abomination according to the great Holy Text.” You shouldered your backpack and made for the exit. Then you paused by the doorway to look over your shoulder at Peter. “That’s why I’m not out, and that’s why I’m trusting you not to tell anyone, Parker. Think you can handle that?”
Peter grimaced. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
