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Peter Parker was sitting in the front seat of Tony Stark's car on the way to a symposium in Massachusetts and to put things very lightly, he was panicking. He'd started his period the day before and that wouldn’t be so terrible if it weren’t for two very important things. The first one being that Mr. Stark had no idea that he was trans. As far as he knew he was a boy from Queen’s who hadn’t quite reached puberty yet. The second being that the first two or three days of his period was always heavy. So heavy that even a large fluffy overnight pad only lasted a couple of hours before it had to be changed but he was so sensitive that he tended to swap it out even more often than that. He hated the way the blood felt against this skin. It made him feel dirty and disgusting and- wrong. May had suggested that he try tampons just for the trip, as if he wasn’t dysphoric enough already. Sticky, gross feeling aside, he couldn’t stomach the idea of inserting something into his body like that. The idea alone made his stomach turn and his eyes burn with shame.
They were only an hour into their five hour trip when Peter started to become overly cognizant of the pad that he had stuck to the inside of his snugly fitting boxers that morning. It was starting to grow damp and the sensation made him squirm. He’d not really realized the extent of his fidgeting until he felt a hand land on his knee. He turned to the side to find Tony, peering between him and the windshield.
“Do you need to use the bathroom or something?” Mr. Stark asked, both eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, “because if you do, I can stop. No need to shake the entire car.”
Peter blushed but ultimately decided that the man thinking he urgently needed to pee was far better than him realizing that he wasn’t the boy that he thought he was. He slowly nodded his head, Mr. Stark chuckled and pulled off of the highway towards the next gas station and that led to Peter’s next dilemma. At school, he peed in the nurse's office. When he was out and about used the men’s room. Always a stall, sometimes with his stand to pee device but he'd not quite mastered it yet so often he’d simply sit down and pray that no one questioned him. They never did, because why would they but that fear never left him.
When he was on his period he usually went into the ladies' room. He’d get funny looks because he was lucky enough to, even without the luxury of testosterone injections, be considered ‘passing’. He was thin, lanky, and muscular, and his binder did wonders to compress his chest and he hated going in there. He hated feeling like he needed to go in there. But, to some degree, it was less humiliating to peel open a pad in the ladies' room than the men’s. Neither bathroom felt right during that time of the month and it always left him feeling conflicted and vulnerable and now he had the added pressure of having Mr. Stark with him.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. Mr. Stark’s hand appeared back on his knee and he turned to look at him. “We’re almost there, Kiddo,” he said in what Peter assumed was supposed to be reassurance but his brain was still filled with the anxiety of having to choose a bathroom.
When Mr. Stark walked in with him to get some coffee that sealed his fate and Peter pushed the men’s room door open. He looked around and realized that he was alone and that helped. Inside the stall he pulled down his jeans, followed by his boxers, being careful to not dislodge his packer, quickly swapped out the pad, peed and then cleaned up as quickly as possible.
When he got back to the car he found Mr. Stark waiting for him. “How about next time you just tell me when you need to pee, okay?” the man said and Peter, not knowing what else to do, agreed.
After that, Peter fell asleep with his head resting against the window. He’d not meant to fall asleep but he’d been up all night worrying, followed by more worrying and after the successful stop he’d somehow managed to relax just enough for his eyes to close and that had led to an absolute disaster. When he woke up, a little over two hours had passed and he could feel the warm wetness of his pad. He adjusted the way he was sitting just a little to try to decide if he’d leaked but it was hard to tell. It was always hard to tell because no matter how much or how little the pad had absorbed it always felt disgusting. He spread his legs and glanced downward. When he didn’t see any glaring patched of angry red, he turned towards his mentor and swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry but I need to use the bathroom again,” he said because it was only supposed to be a five hour trip and he was already having to ask for a second stop. The man was going to think he had the bladder control of a toddler and never take him seriously again.
“I was just about to stop anyway,” Mr. Stark said. “It’s past spider-kid lunchtime. I just didn’t want to wake you up.”
Oh, how Peter wished the man had woken him up. Especially when they finally pulled into a fast-food restaurant and Tony stopped him in the middle of the parking lot by grabbing his shoulder and harshly turning him around so that they were face to face. “You’re bleeding, Pete,” the man said, making Peter visibly pale. The pad had leaked after all and now he was going to have to explain it.
“I- I-” was all he got out before his eyes began to water. Of all the places he could have had this conversation with his mentor it had to be in the middle of a busy parking lot while he had blood on his pants.
“I’m not mad, kiddo. I worried, what happened? Where is that blood coming from?” Tony asked, clearly having misread Peter’s current distress.
“I’m not hurt,” Peter said, with what little breath he had left in his lungs and then tried to take a sharp breath. He needed to get away from Mr. Stark. He needed to clean up. He needed- he needed to calm down and breathe. “I need to use the bathroom,” he reiterated but didn’t dare move, with the way the man was looking at him.
Tony nodded his head and started towards the building, calling “Let’s go,” over his shoulder.
“You’re coming too?” Peter asked, his breath once again leaving his chest. He wondered if he needed to take off his binder for a few minutes while he was hidden in the stall. Maybe that would help him catch a breath.
“I’ve been in the car for hours drinking coffee and you’re bleeding. Yes, I’m coming too,” Tony said, from where he stood and then waited for Peter to catch up with him.
INside the bathroom, Tony headed to a urinal and Peter ducked into the furthest stall. He wanted Tony to leave. He needed Tony to leave. He pulled his shirt off and hung on the hook of the stall door and then yanked his binder off as well. It was cold but it gave the illusion that his lungs could expand to he stayed that way until he heard the urinal flush and the sink water begin to run but he never heard the door open. Instead, he heard footsteps coming his way.
“Are you okay in there, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter’s mouth clamped shut as if he could be so quiet that his mentor would forget that he was in there at all. “Pete? You good?” the man repeated, bringing him back to his senses.
“Yeah,” he breathily and distantly replied.
“Yeah? You sure?” Tony asked, sounding more than a little concerned but Peter just needed him to go. He felt trapped and overwhelmed and horribly, horribly exposed and he really needed to be alone.
“Uh-huh,” he finally answered, still wracking his brain for a way to get his mentor to leave the bathroom without him. “I just- you should go order food. I’ll be right out,” he lied. There was no way he would be right out. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this but with the man agreeing he sighed in relief because at least he could clean up in peace.
It was easy enough to change the pad once the room was empty but his boxers and pants were a loss. He cried as he wiped them out with toilet paper but of course, it didn’t really do much. The paper fell apart and left little remnants stuck to the insides of his clothes. He considered calling his aunt. Maybe so she could rescue him or give him an idea or something but he’d left his phone in the car and he was alone. Alone and dirty and crying like a girl in the men’s bathroom.
Peter had no idea how much time had passed before his mentor was back to knocking on the stall door but he couldn't seem to stop crying and that was probably making things worse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated not unlocking the door as he’d been asked.
“Pete, you’re scaring me. I need to know what’s wrong, right now,” Mr. Stark asked him with an urgency like Peter had never heard before. It made him feel better and worse at the same time. He didn’t want the man to worry but the concern meant that he cared about him. Maybe even loved him and maybe it would be okay to ask for help. Not that he had a choice. He could pull the dirty clothes back on and walk through the restaurant all over again or he could request a new outfit. He just really Mr. Stark wouldn't be mad or disgusted or upset and then he was crying all over again.
“I’m not a boy, Mr. Stark” he choked out between sobs. “I mean I am a boy. I am” he stressed because he knew that he was just struggling and those were the first words to leave his mouth. “ but I’m- I- I need some clothes from my bag,” he finally stated and waited for the questions but none came.
“I can get you some clothes,” his mentor said without judgment before turning to leave Peter, to sit on the toilet and wipe all of the shot and tears off of his face and tried not to think about how the man was going to see the pads and his additional binders in his duffel bag. Then he kicked off his pants and set his packer in his lap so that he could take the boxers off as well. He didn’t have to wait long before Mr. Stak was back and passing a stack of clothing under the stall door. “Thank you,” he hiccuped.
After swapping his clothes, Peter took a few deep breaths before finally unlocking the door and stepping out to find Mr. Stark, leaning against the wall waiting for him. “I’m- I’m trans,” he whispered, trying as hard as he could not to cry again.
“Yeah, I figured that out, Buddy, and I’m so sorry I embarrassed you like that in the parking lot. I thought- God, I don’t know what I thought but it never crossed my mind that-” Tony said with remorse and then pulled Peter into a bone crushing hug. “Pete, you are a boy. You are more than a boy, you are a young man. Hell, you’re Spider-man but more than anything you’re my kid and I love you no matter what.”
“I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how. I used to think about how the conversation would go,” Peter said, huffing a small wet laugh, “This is not how I imagined it.”
“Well, I just hope that you know you can trust me with this kind of thing from now on, okay? I promise I will do nothing but support you,” Mr. Stark said, using his thumbs to wipe away a few stray tears off of Peter’s face. “Now, what do you say we go get some cheeseburger, huh?”
“Yeah,” Peter replied with a breath of relief. “I like cheeseburgers.