request by spidey-543 (Wattpad)
TW: exercising in a binder, gender dysphoria
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.
3rd Person P.O.V.
Harley had a secret.
No, it wasn't that he was a superhero. He was just a high school student, that would be ridiculous.
No, I'm talking about a different kind of secret.
Harley was trans.
You couldn't always tell just by looking at him. Harley passed incredibly well– hormones and working out helped, plus he had always been tall. Maybe not crazy tall... but 5'10 was pretty good. No major complaints.
Yeah, he had no problem appearing masculine, nobody had ever questioned his gender (well, since he changed schools), and nobody paid him any mind. Truly, Harley Keener was just another high school student. As far as anyone knew, he was cis.
But things can go wrong quickly, especially with such a big secret. Harley was about to learn that the hard way.
It was a school day, a warm, spring day. And Harley had gym.
Normally, gym was fine. He would usually keep a hoodie on during class, avoiding too much activity so he wouldn't accidentally hurt himself. It was always cold in the gym, so having a hoodie on was really no problem.
"Hello, class!" The gym teacher chirped, sunglasses perched on her head. "Today, we'll be going outside to run the mile!"
Great... well, no big deal. He would just walk it, take the bad grade. He had an A in the class anyway.
"Your times for the mile matter, so no walking if you want to pass this class! Every student must complete the mile in under 12 minutes, which should be easy if you actually run it," the teacher added.
Harley felt his heart drop. This would never end well. His choices sucked– fail gym or risk passing out and having everyone know his secret. It was a choice between two evils– and Harley wasn't sure what to do. He needed gym to graduate...
~
Peter sighed. He hated gym class, not because it was hard but because he had to pretend to be bad at it. You see, Peter– aka Spiderman– had super abilities that made his high school gym class a breeze. But that was a secret, because Peter was known as the nerdy kid who was bad at sports.
Oh, if only they knew.
But today, Peter would have to run the mile. It was fairly warm outside, a nice spring day. It might actually be enjoyable, if it was possible for one to enjoy such a horrid class. Peter would certainly try to enjoy it.
He followed his class to the outdoor track, standing behind the starting mark.
"Remember: 12 minutes or faster is what you want to get!" The gym teacher reminded. "Ready? Take your mark... get set... go!"
The class of students burst forward, a few people breaking out into a full-out sprint. Peter lagged behind the middle group, deciding this would be a good place for him to be. Not awful, but not one of the top places, either. Non-suspicious.
~
Harley kept up a slow jog pace, his binder starting to feel more restricting. His chest felt like it was being crushed, and his breath came in short pants.
"Oh no... no no no..." Harley muttered under his breath, falling behind the majority of the class. He had been doing pretty well up until this point, but now he wasn't sure if he could continue on. His chest ached, pain shooting through his ribcage with the slightest movement.
He gasped, wrapping his arms around his body protectively as he slowed to a stop. Harley sat on the side of the track, trying to breathe through the pain.
Considering he couldn't really breathe at the moment, this didn't work out too well.
"Hey, are you okay?" Harley looked up to see one of the kids in his class standing over him, a concerned look on his face. The boy was a little on the short side, with big brown eyes and a pen tucked behind his ear, despite being in gym class.
"Um..." Harley hesitated, considering just saying yes so he would be left alone. But on the other hand... there was something in him screaming to get help. "No... I'm not okay."
"What's wrong?" The boy asked, tilting his head. "Are you injured? I can go get the teacher‐"
"No! Ah- no, I don't need the teacher..." Harley cringed. "Sorry. It's more of an... um, a personal problem," he admitted. His chest felt tight, and all this talking wasn't helping him.
"Right." The boy nodded. "That's fine. Do you want me to leave you alone, or...?"
"Uh... I mean, if you want to stay..." Harley trailed off, wheezing painfully. The boy frowned, sitting down next to him.
"Peter Parker," the boy introduced, holding out a hand for Harley to shake.
"Harley Keener." The blond accepted the handshake, despite his shakiness. Peter didn't seem to notice; if he did then he didn't mention it.
Out of all the people that could've stopped to check on Harley, he was glad it was Peter. Even though he didn't really know the brunette, he had heard that he was a generally kind person.
"It's nice to finally meet you," Harley added. "I've heard good things." Peter smiled, and for a moment the pain of Harley's ribcage being crushed seemed unimportant.
"Oh, well thank you!" Peter replied cheerily. "You seem pretty nice too."
"Thanks," Harley nodded, wincing. Peter's brows furrowed, eyes narrowed.
"Do you need anything? I want to help, if you're okay with that," he offered.
"...I guess..." Harley agreed, sighing. He groaned immediately after, feeling his chest ache.
"Alright. Do you know what's happening?" Peter asked, keeping calm.
"Yeah..." Harley sighed. "If I tell you something, would you keep it a secret?"
"If you wanted me to, then yes. I'm not one of those people who go around telling other people's business."
"I believe it. Okay, so nobody in the school knows this, but..." Harley paused, shallow breaths putting little pauses between his words. "...I'm trans. And I'm still wearing my binder."
"While exercising? That's not sa-"
"I know!" Harley interrupted, groaning. "I thought it would be fine! I- ah-" He clutched at his chest, wincing.
"Alright, alright, how about we go back inside? I can tell the teacher we're going to the nurse," Peter suggested, standing up.
"I don't want to go to the nurse." Harley frowned, wheezing softly with each inhale.
"We can go to the bathroom instead, if that's better. But you need to take care of that, and I assume out on the track isn't a good spot." Peter shrugged. "I'll go tell her now." He posed a question. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah. Probably." Peter nodded, offering Harley a hand to help him up.
"Great. Start making your way back to the school then, I'll be right there." Harley and Peter went their separate ways; Peter to the gym teacher and Harley to the school. The blond's chest felt too constricted, like his binder was slowly crushing him.
"Hey!" Peter ran to Harley's side, grinning. "The teacher said you're excused from class, so no worries. How're you feeling?"
"Shitty," Harley mumbled truthfully. "My lungs feel like all the air's been squeezed out of them."
"Ooh, yikes." Peter grimaced. "Here, the bathroom isn't far." He opened the door to the school, holding it for Harley to come through. "Do you want me to wait out here, or-"
"Would you sit outside the stall?" Harley requested, stumbling into the boys' bathroom. Peter nodded, following. The blond locked himself in a stall, and Peter closed the door to the bathroom and then sat outside Harley's stall.
Harley pulled his shirt over his head, pausing for a moment. He really needed to get his binder off, but he hated having to do so. His binder helped him with his dysphoria quite a bit, and he hated having to give that up, even if it was for his own health.
Peter must've heard the lack of movement from the stall, because he spoke up:
"Harley? Doing alright?"
"Yeah, um, getting there," Harley responded, laughing nervously.
"You need to take off the binder. It's for your own safety," Peter reminded. Harley sighed, carefully removing his binder. His lungs felt lighter and his ribs weren't being crushed any longer, but he still wished to put it back on.
"It's off," Harley mumbled, putting his shirt and hoodie back on to cover himself.
"Good. Are you starting to feel any better?" Peter questioned.
"Yeah. I guess." The blond shrugged.
"If you want to go home I'm sure you could get a pass," Peter suggested.
"What would I even say? The school doesn't know, nobody knows except my family– and now you, I guess– plus it was entirely my fault! I shouldn't have tried to run in my binder, I know better than that, and I did it anyway!" Harley threw up his arms in frustration, grimacing. "I fucked up, now it's my shit to deal with. I shouldn't have let you get involved."
"Harley..." Peter's voice was low, a twinge of sadness mixed in. "It's okay. Everything will be okay."
"You don't know that!"
"You made a mistake, it's not as big of a deal as it seems in the moment," Peter explained. "We all make mistakes, and we learn from them. Let's be honest– you'll be less likely to exercise in your binder after this, because you experienced the consequences firsthand. Which is good! Even if you messed up, it's okay because everybody's safe and there won't be major problems since you fixed the issue."
Harley sighed. Peter was right, no doubt about it. The blond leaned against the stall door, closing his eyes.
"Thank you," he murmured. "You really helped me today. And thanks for not being transphobic..." He sighed. "It was really nice meeting you."
"Yeah, of course! You seem cool, and even though it wasn't the best circumstances, I'm really glad we met," Peter replied, sounding chipper. "And hey, if you ever want someone to hang out with during gym, I'm usually here."
"I'll definitely take you up on that. I don't really know anybody else in that class anyways," Harley responded nonchalantly, though on the inside he was super excited.
"Yeah," Peter giggled. "Everyone in that class sucks! I seriously haven't met anyone there who I actually enjoy spending time with." Peter paused before adding: "Except for you." Harley blushed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He was really thankful that Peter couldn't see him.
"Um, could I get your number, actually? If you want?" He held his breath, awaiting the brunette's response.
"Sure! Do you have your phone with you?" Harley let out a soft breath of relief.
"I left it in my backpack..."
"So did I. Hmm..." Peter hummed to himself for a moment before gasping. "Wait! I have a pen!" Harley chuckled, remembering the pen Peter had tucked behind his ear. "Here, give me your arm!"
"Oh, um..." Harley hesitated for a moment, before unlocking the stall and sticking his arm out for Peter. He felt the tip of the pen pressing into his skin, 10 numbers being scrawled onto his arm.
"There. Done!" Peter exclaimed, releasing Harley's arm. "Anyway, are you feeling better?"
"Yeah. Thank you, y'know, for everything," he replied, leaning back against the stall door.
"No problem. But next time, don't exercise in your binder! There's gotta be a better option," Peter mused.
"Right... I'll be more careful."
"I'm glad. But I really need to get back to class... are you going home? You really should," the brunette insisted.
"I guess I could call my mom," Harley agreed, sighing. "You can go back to class. I'll be fine. Thanks again."
"It's all good. See you later, Harley!" Peter exclaimed, footsteps echoing off the tiled floor.
"Bye..." Harley murmured, hearing the door open and close. "See ya."