Work Text:
If this world makes you crazy
You've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I'll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
Your true colors
Are beautiful like a rainbow
- True Colors, Cyndi Lauper
There are days Peter feels… discomfort. Physical but unexplainable.
All he knows is that he hates feeling things. Like the heavy sensation in his chest, the difficulty breathing in and out properly, as though not enough air is coming in, his uneasy legs never stopping, his hands not sure what to do.
It’s not just mere anxiety from school, from Spider-Man patrol or from his powers acting up. It’s deeper, it’s the sort of discomfort Peter has felt for a long, long time, and it’s something only he seems to feel.
He’s read about that before, a couple of years ago.
Dysphoria /dĭs-fôr′ē-ə/
- An emotional state characterized by anxiety, depression, or unease.
- A state of feeling unwell or unhappy; a feeling of emotional and mental discomfort and suffering from restlessness, malaise, depression or anxiety.
- Abnormal depression and discontent.
It’s likely this bitch acting out today:
Gender dysphoria
- A persistent unease with having the physical characteristics of one's gender, accompanied by strong identification with the opposite gender and a desire to live as or to become a member of the opposite gender.
- A profound and persistent unhappiness related to one's physical sex.
Apparently, he’s able to mask it well from Ned and MJ – and the latter is usually very observant. If she notices anything, she doesn’t touch on it. Peter is unsure if he’s thankful for that or not.
Ned is very supportive of Peter on what he calls his “Dysphoria Days”. Today, though, Peter just wants to get through school and get out as soon as possible. He’s also going upstate today, to help Mr. Stark in the workshop, where he doesn’t have to worry about the discomfort. Where he can build and dismantle things, where he can have control over something.
When he finally gets in the car, Peter doesn’t engage in any conversation, tired from masking all day. He can tell Happy is weirded out, though he won’t pry, either. However, at one point, the grumpy driver rather softly asks Peter if he wants to grab some food from the drive thru. Peter just kindly declines. The discomfort is so much that the boy hasn’t eaten much all day. Happy won’t insist, but he tells Peter to let him know if he changes his mind. The rest of the trip is quiet.
It turns out that Mr. Stark is still stuck in a meeting, according to F.R.I.D.A.Y. It might not take much longer to end, but at this point, Peter knows that’s not always the case.
When he goes to the workshop, he finds a sticky note on an old Iron Man helmet.
“BRB – there’s ice cream in the fridge. Let FRI know if you wanna order anything else. Tony.”
Peter has no energy to smile.
As he analyzes the whole workshop, he ultimately realizes he’s in no right mind to work on his suit or anything else. Some part Peter feels like he might do something stupid; his Dysphoria Days can become darker.
With that, Peter heads to the living room to watch some TV. He really needs to distract himself right now. Nothing a little silly movie won’t help.
He goes on a random streaming service to find anything animated and that will make him feel good or distracted for a little bit. The teenager searches for a while before landing on Disney’s Pinocchio, from 1940. Holy shit, 1940? Anyway, he’s actually never seen this film, but he used to read the story all the time as a kid. It was a book that Uncle Ben and Aunt May read to him every night. Peter used to say Pinocchio’s father was like his uncle…
It’s certainly melancholic to remember that, but Peter used to feel safe when they read the story to him. Maybe the movie will do the same…
Before that, Peter actually bothers to grab some ice cream.
So, the movie plays out.
A wooden boy that wants to be a real boy…
It seems like an innocent little film, with all the bright and pure magic, until Pinocchio heads out onto a darker path, deceived to live a life full of pleasure. He’s used as a marionette, literally. Even when he gets out, Pinocchio goes to a wonderland of beer and cigars, without parents, without responsibility. And then…
Oh fuck, that’s terrifying.
This story is way darker than Peter remembered.
Regardless, Pinocchio finally escapes and goes home. And he goes after his father who went looking for him. And Geppetto was stuck in a whale. Wow. Pinocchio proves himself to be brave, very tragically. He dies and is born again, as a boy, a real, human boy, and everyone lives happily ever after.
…
Peter hasn’t realized he started crying at one point he cannot register.
He’s hugging a pillow from the couch, his chest aching even more.
Why did he pick this movie. Why. It only made things worse! Peter fears he’s going to destroy the pillow in his arms with how tightly he’s hugging it. Not to mention he’s staining it with his tears. This is Mr. Stark’s expensive couch!
“Boss is returning shortly,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announces, much to Peter’s dismay. “You seem distressed, Peter. Would you like me to tell Boss to meet you at MedBay-?”
“No! No, no, I’m fine. I-It’s just the movie, haha.” Peter lets go of the pillow. Thankfully, it didn’t get stained.
He rushes back to the kitchen to throw out the empty ice cream cup, as well as to wash his face. He takes a glass of water and drinks it entirely so, hopefully, Mr. Stark won’t notice anything. He also hopes F.R.I.D.A.Y. hasn’t told his mentor anything. That’s the last thing Mr. Stark needs after a long, dragging meeting.
Shortly after, he hears footsteps approaching. Following that, a long, exhausted sigh.
“Hey, Underoos,” Mr. Stark greets him. “Sorry for taking forever to get here, I unfortunately couldn’t escape earlier.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. I know it’s important stuff.”
“Not really. It’s stupid burocracy. I value our Lab Days over anything else.”
Peter blushes but he doesn’t smile, as if he’s not entirely convinced by Mr. Stark’s words.
Mr. Stark goes to the coffee maker to make himself a cup. He asks Peter if he wants some, but the latter declines.
“So, what were you up to?” The man wonders.
“I just watched a movie.”
“Hmm, which one?”
“A really old one”— Peter can tell Mr. Stark is already rolling his eyes at the word choice —“Pinocchio. It’s, uh, about this wooden boy that wants to be a real boy—”
“You really think I’ve never heard of Pinocchio?”
“… I dunno.”
Mr. Stark sighs exasperatedly, “Yes, I’m familiar with it.”
“So, yeah, I watched the Disney one,” Peter continues. “I remember reading it a lot as a kid, but I never watched the movie until today. It was good. Kind of dark, though. Actually, pretty dark. That kid turning into a donkey was nightmare fuel.” Peter shudders just remembering that scene. “And the end, when, you know… Pinocchio died after saving his dad… he turned into a real boy and… that was it, he got to live what he wanted to be from the beginning.”
It smells like coffee.
Peter won’t stop talking, though.
“Like, imagine that. Imagine if it were that easy, if you could just die and be born again as the person you always wanted to be.”
The kitchen becomes awfully quiet, because, to Mr. Stark, this conversation makes no sense at all. If anything, it sounds messed up. He’ll either drop it entirely, or he’ll try to solve this puzzle. Judging by his wide eyes staring at Peter, it might as well be the second outcome.
“… I wish fairy godmothers were real, haha,” Peter jokes, only for his voice to break.
“Oh, kiddo…”
Peter tries to turn away from Mr. Stark, now that it’s getting ugly – uglier than what happened in the living room.
“Sorry, I- I don’t know why I’m- I’m getting emotional over a dumb movie—” Except he knows. And Mr. Stark can tell.
“It’s not dumb.”
“I’m sorry, y-you had a long day, I don’t wanna—”
“Shh, don’t say that. You’re not a nuisance to me.”
Mr. Stark has come closer. Peter has turned his back to him – the tears are falling, and he can’t make them stop.
“Come on, Pete, talk to me.” Peter feels a hand on his shoulder. Look at me.
I don’t want to be seen, not like this. Not like this.
“S-Some days, I…” The teenager hiccups. “I wish I weren’t… born in this body. I wish I was born…” A real boy, a normal boy, not a mutant freak. “I just wish I could be born again as… someone else.”
It’s useless to pretend. Mr. Stark doesn’t get it. No one will ever get it, even if they may sympathize with Peter. They just don’t.
He covers his mouth to contain his loud sobs.
“Peter, look at me. Please.”
The teen shakes his head.
“Look at me.”
He doesn’t make Peter look at him. There’s a gentle squeeze on the latter’s shoulder. It tells him that Mr. Stark is not ashamed of Peter, he’s not disgusted, he’s not annoyed. He cares for Peter – not Spider-Man, not anyone else that he would like to be.
Ultimately, Peter faces Mr. Stark. Not quite, as he looks down, quite ashamed of himself. He knows his mentor isn’t mad or annoyed, yet he can’t look him in the eye. Slowly, however, Peter feels himself embraced. No barriers, no awkwardness. Mr. Stark couldn’t care less about his expensive suit getting ruined by some random kid’s tears.
And honestly, Peter is no random kid at this point.
Mr. Stark says nothing, he just stays here, holding Peter for as much time as the young hero desires.
It kind of makes Peter think about the movie again. Geppetto loved Pinocchio regardless of him being a “real boy” or a wooden one. Geppetto was the happiest man alive just to see Pinocchio move and talk. He always called Pinocchio a good boy, his boy. His son. Heck, even when the kid had donkey ears and a tail…
Peter straight up sobs once he finally holds onto Mr. Stark in return. The latter is rubbing his back, still saying nothing. It hurts but Peter is also crying with relief, which is so strange. He doesn’t want to exist in this body, but he wants someone to hold him dearly. And it is happening. Peter is bombarded with a mess of thoughts, but one thing that remains certain is that he doesn’t want Mr. Stark to let go.
The discomfort is screaming now, and Peter no longer masks it. No longer silences it.
Mr. Stark remains quiet, gently rocking the boy left and right.
Peter feels like he’s dying. But Mr. Stark wouldn’t let that happen.
Eventually, it stops hurting as much.
Once he’s relaxed enough, Mr. Stark pulls him away a little to properly look at him. Not at all disgusted at the sight of red-rimmed eyes and snot coming out of Peter’s nose.
Even then, Peter apologizes again, “I’m sorry.”
Mr. Stark shakes his head. “No, kid. You don’t have to be.”
“It’s just… my dumb Dysphoria Day.”
“Dysphoria Day?”
“Yeah,” Peter sniffs. “The kind of day I just hate existing. More than usual. Turns out watching Pinocchio made it worse.”
Mr. Stark hums. “What usually helps you on days like this?”
“I dunno. Probably me wrapped up in a huge blanket and watching an actual dumb, silly movie.”
“And snacks?”
“And snacks, yeah.”
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Just the ice cream in the fridge.”
“So, you didn’t have lunch?”
“I wasn’t feeling like it.”
“Alright. We’re ordering some lunch – or, well, dinner at this point –, anything you want. You can’t go on an empty stomach with only ice cream in it, kid.”
“I know, Mr. Stark…” Peter sighs. This time, he doesn’t really mind the lecture.
“I suggest you change into something comfier while I get the blanket, then we’ll order dinner, okay?”
“Okay.”
The older man doesn’t go find the blanket just yet, though…
He gazes at Peter for a little while before sighing deeply.
“I know I might not understand exactly how you feel… But I know how it is in some parts,” Mr. Stark vents. “I wasn’t the perfect son to my father. To him, the perfect son was Cap. Meanwhile, I had to pretend to be the man everyone wanted me to be. But I wasn’t. I’m not that man. I’m… someone else entirely.” He pauses. “Either way, kid, whenever you feel dysphoric like that, you can count on me.”
Peter is not entirely too familiar with Mr. Stark and Captain America’s background. Though long ago, Peter learned that Howard Stark met Captain America way back then. Now, from the sound of it, Cap was like Howard’s perfect son. Imagine being a child and being compared to Captain freaking America?
This time, Peter is the one who hugs Mr. Stark first, much to the latter’s surprise. Even then, Mr. Stark chuckles and pats Peter’s back.
“Alright, alright. Thank you, kid, but you’re the one who needs to be smothered in love and care right now,” the mechanic jokes. “Go get changed, now. Already have any ideas for dinner?”
“I’m gonna be basic and pick burgers and milkshakes.”
“Can’t argue with the classics.”
Peter finally heads to the room, not without Mr. Stark ruffling his brown curls playfully.
After all that, they’re both in pajamas, with Peter properly wrapped up like a burrito and drinking his milkshakes.
Sadly, it won’t cure him of his dysphoria, but at the very least, Peter is able to enjoy existing, to taste the burgers and milkshakes, and to spend time with Mr. Stark, even if all they do is watch a stupid movie they laugh at and tear it to shreds.
It’s not always about control. It’s about letting people in when you need them.