Secret Identity

Peter Parker. Or, to everyone else Paula Parker. You see, Peter had come to terms with the fact that he was not Paula a significant time ago. So, he refers to himself as such.

Well, that is, on the inside. On the outside, he has to keep up the act of Paula. It's much, much worse than it sounds.

But you know who isn't Paula? Spider-man. When he is spider-man, he doesn't have to pretend to be Paula. He can't let anyone know his secret identity anyway.

When he goes out to stop crime, he is as free as the wind. He is happy. He has friends, and, he even has a family. Unlike Aunt May - who is wonderful, don't get him wrong, and is his actual family and is great to come home to after a long day - this family doesn't know his face. This family has just as much as that homey feeling as Aunt May, but he can be himself. As long as he has that mask on, he can be who he truly is.

This family, and no he’s not joking, is the Fantastic Four. Imagine that. An Aunt May as his family for the Paula/Peter life, and the Fantastic Four as his almost family for his super hero life. Honestly, how did he get so lucky?

Peter is sitting in his room having just finished his homework. It's about 10 o’clock. About the time he suits up. Good.

He goes downstairs to double check that Aunt May is asleep. All clear.

Suiting up probably isn't the best term for getting ready to go be Spider-man, seeing as he pretty much always has his spidey suit under his clothes. Guess it doesn't really matter.

Once he has stripped his civilian clothes off, he also sheds the top of his costume as well. He wears two sports bras under the suit during the daytime, because you can't exactly wear ace bandages 24 hours a day. But at night, he wraps himself up in the bandages because despite the fact that he can't breath as well after a while, it has more compression. The only exceptions are when he knows he will be going up against someone major, or is severely hurt. Severely hurt. Yeah, he knows the risks, but being able to feel like himself? Not wanting to crawl out of his own skin? That, he thinks, is very worth it.

He loves this part of the night. Just after he gets outside, and he is swinging from building to building, feeling the icy wind against his skin. It almost feels like he is flying. But sadly, reality always comes back to him. If he gets too caught up in his head, he could swing into something. It doesn't happen often, but if he does end up getting majorly injured, he knows he can go to the FF.

Luckily, he has never been wounded so badly, he has had to reveal his chest. To most people, that time with Doc Ock had probably been enough to go to the hospital, but Peter pushed through, because he would have rather gone through hell before he let anyone in on that secret at that time. Even when he had been shot in the stomach he had only rolled up his suit shirt just enough. Mr. Fantastic luckily didn't say anything about it.

Now, knows better. He knows that if he gets injured as badly as he did in the chest again, he will allow Reed to help. He knows how the gang feels about lgbt+ rights. They would never hate him for that.

But that is only an if situation. If that happens. If it doesn't happen, then no one needs to know. It's not their business unless Peter allows it to be their business.

These are the kind of things Peter often thinks about while he patrols the streets. Sometimes it distracts him. Sometimes it makes the punches come faster. It's certainly better than thinking about how awful some of the people he has to stop are.

He gets quite a few people tonight. One guy was trying to stab a homeless guy to ‘put him out of his misery’. Honestly? Are you kidding? People these days.

Sometimes, after a long night, he goes to the statue of liberty. Looking out at the city at night, from up there, is really nice. It's really refreshing. The colors of the city against the dark night sky. It is one of the best things about living in New York if you ask him. An added bonus, is if Johnny Storm is up there.

Johnny Storm. The guy is Peter’s best friend. He matches his personality like a bed and someone who hasn't slept in three days. Like food and your stomach when you get home after the school bullies ruined your lunch. Like two sarcastic idiots who will do almost anything to help someone in need. Johnny doesn't know this, but Pete has had the biggest crush on Johnny for almost as long as they met. I mean, do you blame him? He's a total hottie. Pun intended. Peter is just a bug attracted to his flame.

Johnny burns hot. Not just on the outside, but on the inside too. He may be able to literally set himself on fire, but he has always been alight inside. He burns with passion. He burns for everything he loves. He would burn himself out before he let someone hurt his friends or family. So the fact that he is now the human torch? Pretty spot on.

Speaking of people he loves, here comes Spidey right now. Everyone knows Johnny Storm is bi. It's pretty obvious considering the amount of men and women he brings into his bed. Well, not his bed, but their bed, or maybe even a cheap motel bed. He may be rich, but he isn't going to waste too much money on things like that. He just wishes he could have Spider-man be one of them.

But then again, he is really glad Spidey isn't one of them, because he wants something more. He doesn't want a random stranger. It couldn't possibly be just a quick fuck like so many others, this is his best friend he is talking about. He doesn't want to make a move because he doesn't want Spidey to end up leaving him like he leaves all his one night stands. He doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

Contrary to popular belief, he does want all that cheesy stuff. Despite what you might have heard, he isn't just some robot who's only goal is sex. He wants to be able to wake up in the morning with someone to hold next to him. not just a warm body, but his warm body. He wants to hold him and let the outside world fade away. He wants showers together, in a mostly non-sexual way. He wants burnt breakfast and coffee that is far too hot while they are still half asleep. He wants the worst rom-coms on in the background while they fall asleep on the couch.

He realizes where his thought process has gone, and shakes it off immediately. He isn't supposed to think like that. Not about his best friend.

Peter swings up onto lady liberty’s head. He is able to relax quickly. This is his safe space. Nothing can touch him when he is high up away from everyone and his problems. It also helps that Johnny is there.

Johnny is just looking out over everything enjoying the view when Peter decides to sit next to him. It's nice when they can just enjoy each other's company.

It's also nice when they can rant to each other.

“It's been a wild night.” Peter starts.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Crazy girl with katanas.”
“Like deadpool?
“Hell no. She wasn't nearly as good with weapons, but at least she didn't have voices talking to her. Or didn't call me baby boy.” Pete was downplaying this event. She had actually got him a few times. Not good enough to knock him down, but they were pretty painful at the moment.
“Ugh. why does he call you that anyway?”
“I don't know. But it gets annoying.”
“I can imagine. It's way worse than my nicknames.”
“Yeah. At least Matchstick and Hothead aren't degrading.”
“You gotta admit, they are pretty funny.”

They carry on mindless conversations for nearly an hour. They could talk about anything and everything, and because they were them, it would never turn sour or awkward. They always managed to avoid touchy subjects or say things that would hurt the other. If they needed to get something out, then they could. Who knows how many times they have ranted to each other about an asshole that said something about social rights or politics. There were a few times they had to bring the other down from a panic attack. Hey, even super heroes can have anxiety about things.

“I should get going, I have school tomorrow.” Peter says.
“Yeah, me too. G’night Spidey.”
“G’night Johnny.”

They set off in their own directions.

In the morning, Peter woke up and slammed his alarm clock off. It took him hitting snooze multiple times before he actually got up. When he did, it pained him to put on a casual bra and put the act back on. But like always, he pushed through.

After breakfast, he got up from the table and started to head out the door.

“Bye Aunt May! See you when i get home!”
“Goodbye Paula dear! Have a good day!”

He cringed at the name, but it didn't show on his face. He left for school.

Peter loved learning. He really did. It was the people that were the problem. Specifically, Flash Thompson and his lot.

It seemed as if Flash’s one purpose in life was to make Peter feel as awful as possible. The relentless teasing, the physical brutality, the mental wear down from him using names like ‘girly’, or ‘paulina’.

Before and after every class, if Flash saw him, he would start the relentless torture. And Peter had to endure. There were locker slammings, and stomach punches when the gang felt the need. Other times, it would be creative sayings in class. ‘Polly want a cracker’ seemed to be a popular choice. But Peter knew, if he could handle aliens, inhumans, and other insane things that seem too impossible to exist, then he could handle some jerks.

Even if he had to get beat to a pulp, he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of giving up. Although, it was kind of upsetting how no one cared what happened to others as long as Flash wasn't using them as his personal punching bag. The only other thing Peter thought about the situation, was that he was glad it was him and not any other people. He was glad Flash only hurt Peter himself, and not a random innocent person.

Today, he actually went home with a few bruises. Luckily, not anywhere Aunt May would see. Just on the stomach and legs. Flash knew better than to go for his face.

When Peter locked himself in his room after he go home, he took off his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. Other than the uncomfortable dysphoria settling in, he looked at himself with worry. Almost his entire stomach was covered in black and blue, and there were random cuts all over from getting too comfortable in fights. Most significantly, there was a large cut on his upper left thigh. If he kept going like he did, he might end up losing efficiency, or possibly even his life. And while, sure, he was reckless sometimes, he wasn't actively trying to put himself in harm’s way. He just wanted to help people.

He didn't consider this bad enough to stop him from going out that night.

Which, later that night, turned out to be a mistake.

He went out patrolling as usual. When his spidey-sense went off, whatever he had expected, this wasn't it.

He swung into a warehouse. There were lots of big boxes full of who knows what. Whoever it was that the spidey-sense had been warning him of, Peter couldn't see them immediately. They must be out of eye sight. He turned one of the corners, and he saw a guy on the phone who seemed to be talking about shipping out weapons. Great. The boxes must be full of weapons.

"Cough cough." Peter pulled the guy out of his conversation.
"Shit. You're Spider-man." he said as he reached behind his back.

So the fight begun.

He had been in the middle of the fight with the guy, who had surprisingly really good skills, when an explosion happened across the warehouse. That had apparently been just enough of a distraction for a second guy to appear out of nowhere and stab him with a knife in - guess where - the chest. Just under his right breast. He then quite literally disappeared. The fucker. He hated teleporters.

This shocked the guy with the shiv so badly, that he just dropped the weapon and ran.

Peter didn't know what to do with himself. He just stood there for a moment in shock until adrenaline kicked in. He knew he would die if he just waited there. He walked out with the remaining strength he had. He saw a payphone attached to the outside wall of the place and thanked anything that was out there. He dragged himself with all his might and made it to the phone. He nearly collapsed the second he set foot in front of it, but with a struggle, he kept upright. He dialed a familiar number, heard a familiar voice, whispered the address he was at and a small ‘help’ before everything turned to black.