It had happened whilst he was out patrolling, as he did most evenings. And Peter knew that it was karma. Karma for breaking the most important rule Clint had set when he agreed to keep his secret.
No wearing your binder when you’re patrolling or exercising in general.
But he had done just that.
See Peter had been staying at the compound all week, Aunt May was caught up with work and therefore didn’t want him left in the apartment alone. Although he did love staying with the avengers, it tended to make him feel more dysphoric than usual.
It was a Wednesday evening when he decided to go out on patrol. Throughout the day he had been feeling dysphoric, partially due to the transphobic comments he received from Flash, partially due to the fact that he had to wear his binder at the compound, an aching reminder coming from his ribs.
Peter wanted his chest to be flat.
He wanted to go out on patrol and for people to see spider-man not spider-girl.
So he left his binder on.
And although it didn’t hurt him anymore than the dull aching pain he already felt, by the end of the night he was regretting his decision.
Which brings him to now, stood in his bathroom pacing around, ripped binder in hand. Peter couldn’t sew, he doubted that Clint could sew, but even he could, it was beyond repair. His suit was torn too, but Tony could fix that with no questions.
It had happened towards the end of his patrol. Peter had been pushed, he fell and to his dismay he fell into a fence which promptly ripped through his suit and binder, scratching lightly at his skin. Super healing meant he didn’t have to worry about wounds, the only thing to worry about was how to fix his only binder.
“School.” Dread filled him up. He looked down at his watch, only 4 hours until he had to leave for school. Peter wasn’t going to be able to find a new binder in time without telling Clint, and he certainly was not going to do that.
Clint Barton may seem like a happy and friendly puppy on the outside, but Peter knew that he could be just as scary as Natasha and he was not prepared to see angry Clint, especially not at 3am.
That left Peter with one option. Two technically. But Peter had promised himself to never use ace bandages again, and he wasn’t about to break that promise with himself. So, he resorted to the only safe option.
With a sigh, he turned off the bathroom light and headed to his wardrobe. He picked out his favourite pair of pants, the ones that made him feel most masculine, then his largest t-shirt, the ‘I survived my trip to nyc’ one, they were his safe clothes. Finally, he picked out boxers and two sports bras, hoping that they would flatten his chest enough.
With doubt and regret on his mind, Peter curled up into his spiderman bedding, trying his best to get as much sleep as his head would let.
~
Peter skipped breakfast, not because he wasn’t hungry or because he was late but because he wanted to avoid Clint. Clint was always eating breakfast at the same time as Peter, and he wasn’t in the mood for questions as to where his binder was and why he wasn’t wearing it.
“Hey Happy, could we stop off at McDonalds please?” Peter asked with smile. Happy agreed to, pretending to be annoyed, but everyone knew that Happy would happily do anything for the kid.
The last few minutes of the car ride to school were sat in silence as Peter filled his stomach with the comforting fast food, grateful that he didn’t have to survive until lunch on an empty stomach. Peter was in a slightly less cheery mood by the time Happy dropped him off, he muttered a goodbye and slouched as he walked to his locker.
“What’s up Penis Parker?” Flash yelled across the corridor. Peter ignored him, not because he didn’t want to cause a scene like usual, instead it was due to him not being in the mood nor having the energy to put up with Flash’s remarks.
“Shut it flash.” He heard the familiar voice, practically hearing the eye role too. Shortly after Ned came up behind him, saying hello to him, smiling his friendly smile.
“I don’t want to deal with his bullshit today.” Peter groaned, rolling his head backwards and closing his eyes, wishing he could be at home, his apartment, in bed curled up watching an episode of some shitty reality tv program with a tub of ice cream.
“Lucky for you, you only have pe with him today.” MJ had somehow learnt everyone’s timetables, Ned and Peter thought it was slightly weird but it did come in handy.
“Pe? Nooo.” Peter groaned once more, having forgotten that he had pe on Thursdays.
His day went fast, lessons, as usual, were easy. He paid little attention throughout the day, he had more important things to be thinking about. He also didn’t engage in much conversation despite having almost of all of his lessons with Ned and MJ.
Thankful that he understood math easily, Peter spent his time, slumped in his seat, wondering if anyone had noticed his chest looking bigger. He thought it was extremely obvious and maybe Ned and MJ were being kind and just not pointing it out, but he was confident that everyone else had been talking about it.
Peter could feel the feeling of dysphoria rising inside of him. He could feel the fabric of the sport bras against his skin, and his hair getting too long against his forehead, he made a mental note to ask Aunt May if he could get a haircut next week.
Before his mind could go too crazy with thoughts, crazy with self-consciousness, the bell rang, shoving his belongings into his bag he made his way into the hall and blended in with the other students, not wanting to be seen by anyone.
Pe was next.
As usual, Peter changed in the bathroom, Ned stood guard outside of the door as he always did. Peter was grateful to have a friend like Ned, the kind of friend he could tell anything to and know he would always be there for him, his guy in the chair.
“Do you have a hoodie?” Peter opened the door slightly to ask Ned.
“I thought you had yours?” Ned replied.
“Not the point.” Peter replied, “Sorry no, I just, um dysphoria, please?” With a knowing look, Ned nodded and returned shortly after with his own hoodie, lending it to Peter.
Last lesson Pete, you can do this, then you can go home. Except he couldn’t. He had to go back the compound and try to fix his mess.
Pe was Peter’s worst lesson, not because he couldn’t do it, no he could do anything and everything the teachers asked him to with ease, he hated not being able to wear his binder, feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable, that’s why he hated it.
Ned usually did his best to distract Peter, MJ spent most of her time reading. The two boys tended to talk about Star Wars, or Ned would ask questions about the avengers like the fan boy he was. The lesson always went slow, but Peter enjoyed getting to talk with his friends and feel like a normal kid for once, well as normal as he could get.
~
“Thanks Happy.” Peter waved as he left the car, then he ran into the compound, through security and pegged it to his own room, locking the door behind him.
He had no time for talking to the team, he needed to try and fix his binder before tomorrow. There was zero way Peter could go another day at school without it.
The black binder was in his bathroom, exactly where he had left it last night. Peter picked it up delicately, a sense of shock as he took in how badly it was ripped. There were multiple rips, and it was bound to take him all night to fix.
Out of the bottom draw of his desk, he took out a sewing kit, not bothered that the colour he picked didn’t match his binder, he began to try and sew the holes. Emphasis on the ‘try’ as he struggled to thread the needle and then continued to prick his fingers every time he put the it through the material.
“Mr Parker, Mr Stark is at the door, shall I let him in?” Friday asked, startling Peter from his concentrated state.
“Umm I, no no don’t let him.” Peter replied, hurriedly trying to move the stuff from his desk in case Tony came in anyways.
“Underoos?” Tony called out from outside his door, “You alright in there? You missed dinner.”
“I’m good thanks, lots of homework!” Peter called out, a nervous twang to his voice.
“Alright kiddo, call me if you need help with it, Steve left you some dinner in the fridge.”
Tony rarely asked many questions and liked to respect privacy and boundaries, something Peter was grateful for, it meant he didn’t have to lie to him as much as he did to everyone else.
With his final stitch, Peter sighed with relief. He held up his binder, a feeling of pride in his chest that he had fixed it by himself. But then one by one, each stitch began to unravel leaving Peter back where he started. Tired, his eyes became wet with tears, not to mention the banging headache.
Peter wanted a hug. He needed a hug. He needed a hug from his Aunt May more than anyone else.
After putting on the biggest sweater he could find, Peter headed out into the hall, hoping not to bump into anyone. His eyes were red from a mixture of strain and crying, his nose sniffly too, but he didn’t want people’s half assed condolences for whatever was wrong.
He went two floors up in the elevator, trudging through the hallway down to the last room on the right. Peter knocked gently, little energy left in him. The door opened and he was embraced in a warm hug, despite not saying anything.
“Come on in.” Clint replied, “Hot chocolate.” He whispered to Bucky, the ultimate comfort drink. They both knew something was wrong with Peter, it was unlike him to come to their room unless he needed to.
They sat down on the sofa, Peter curled up against Clint.
“My binder ripped, last night.” Peter said with a sniffle. “I don’t want to go to school.” He knew he sounded like a little kid who just wanted a day at home.
“How’d you rip it?” Clint asked.
“Patrolling,” Peter admitted, “I’m sorry.” He apologised before nodding a thank you as Bucky placed down the mug of hot chocolate.
“Kid you know you’re not supposed to.” Peter nodded his head as he curled up closer against Clint’s chest, Clint tightened his grip on him. “I’d give you one of mine but they’re far too big,” Clint sighed, “Stay home tomorrow, I’ll say you’re helping me out.” Clint was always the best and making excuses for Peter.
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll try and get you a new binder.” Peter tried to tell him that he couldn’t do that, he hated when people spent money on him, but Clint insisted and there was no way of changing his mind.
The rest of Peter’s evening was spent curled up next to his big brother, watching tv and drinking hot chocolate. The guilt and anxious feelings slowly started to disappear and were replaced with a feeling a comfort being around Clint and Bucky.
Bucky laughed when he first heard the young boy snoring, Clint gave him a dorky smile.
“Should we take him back to his room?” Bucky asked.
Clint shook his head, carefully releasing himself from Peter’s grip. He placed down a pillow and Bucky laid a blanket on top of the boy, trying to make him as comfortable as he possibly could be on the small sofa of theirs, letting him drift off to sleep peacefully.