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Peter sat on the edge of the couch in the Avengers' common room, gripping his phone so tightly his fingers ached. He had typed out a dozen different messages in the team group chat, only to delete them all. Every version of "Hey, so I’m trans" felt too casual, too formal, too terrifying. His heart pounded in his chest, his stomach twisting itself into knots.
The common room was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. The others were scattered around the compound—Natasha and Clint were probably in the training room, Thor was off somewhere booming with laughter, and Tony was no doubt locked in his lab. Steve had been reading the morning paper earlier, a habit he hadn’t broken despite how outdated print news was, and Bucky—Bucky was in the kitchen, which Peter knew because he had been hyper-aware of every move the super-soldier had made for the past twenty minutes.
Coming out had never been easy, but it had been simpler in school. Kids were awful, but at least they were predictable. The Avengers? That was another story. They weren’t just classmates or teachers—these were the people Peter trusted with his life. The people who had saved him, fought beside him, patched him up when he was too stubborn to stay down. If they reacted badly, he wouldn’t just be losing allies. He’d be losing a family.
Peter wasn’t worried about Nat or Clint—if anything, he was sure they already knew. And Thor? That man radiated chaotic ally energy, and Peter doubted he even had the concept of gender binaries on Asgard. But Tony and Steve? That was where the anxiety set in.
Tony was... well, Tony. Loud, opinionated, and the man who had literally given him a suit of armour. Had trusted him more than anybody else. Would he still think Peter was worthy of it if he knew Peter had been keeping something from him this whole time? Would he hesitate before calling him “kid” or before patting him on the back? Would there be that split second of awkwardness where Tony tried too hard to be accepting, making it worse?
And Steve—Steve was Captain America. A guy straight out of the forties. Peter had no idea where he stood on the whole trans thing, or if he even really understood it. What if it changed the way he saw Peter? What if Steve hesitated to call him "son" the way he sometimes did? What if—
"You okay, kid?"
Peter jumped, nearly dropping his phone. He hadn’t even heard Bucky approach. The older man leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his metal hand. His eyes, sharp as ever, studied Peter like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"Yeah, totally fine. Just, uh, texting MJ."
Bucky hummed, clearly not buying it. He took a slow sip of his coffee, then, after a beat, crossed the room and sank into the armchair across from Peter. His movements were fluid, controlled, and yet there was a deliberate kind of stillness to him now, like he was waiting Peter out.
Peter swallowed. The lump in his throat wasn’t going anywhere. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, fingers twisting the fabric as if he could wring the anxiety out of it.
"Something’s up." Bucky finally nudged, setting his mug down. "You look like you’re about to throw up."
Peter let out a weak laugh. "Wow, thanks."
Bucky smirked, but his gaze didn’t waver. "Not my fault you’ve got the same expression I had when I was trying to figure out how to tell Steve."
Peter frowned. "Tell Steve what?"
Bucky raised an eyebrow. "That I liked him. That I didn’t just follow him into war because I was his best friend."
Peter blinked. "Wait, you—?"
Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying Peter’s reaction. "What, you thought we were just ‘good friends’? C’mon, kid, I thought you were smarter than that propaganda shit."
Peter sat with that information for a second. Maybe Steve wasn’t as much of a 1940s stereotype as Peter had feared. But still, that wasn’t exactly the same as being trans.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Bucky shrugged. "Because I’ve seen that look before. The ‘scared to say something’ look. And I figure if it’s something like what I went through, maybe it helps to know you’re not alone."
Peter hesitated. His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his hoodie. His chest felt like it was being squeezed, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. The words sat on his tongue, heavier than they should have been.
"It’s... it’s different."
"Maybe," Bucky said. "Maybe not."
Peter took a shaky breath. "I—I’m trans. I wanted to tell the team, but... I don’t know how."
Bucky was quiet for a long moment, but his expression didn’t change. He didn’t look shocked or confused—just thoughtful. Peter braced himself for questions, for skepticism, for anything that might make this moment even harder, but Bucky just nodded.
"Okay."
Peter blinked. "Okay?"
Bucky offered a small smile. "Okay. Doesn’t change who you are. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the same Peter Parker who swings around New York getting into trouble. Telling them doesn’t change that. And, for the record, we’re not the only ones."
Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Tony’s bi. Pretty sure Nat is too. Clint’s the straightest of the group, but that’s not saying much. Thor—who even knows, but I’m pretty sure Asgardians don’t have labels. Basically, kid, you’re in queerer company than you thought."
“Mr. Stark is bi?” Peter blinked. That thought was infinitely more shocking to him than the revelation that Bucky had dropped about Steve. Maybe there was a part of him that had always suspected the Captain of being queer, but Tony?
Tony’s entire persona before becoming Iron Man had been as a playboy who was seen with a different woman every night. There had never been men…
Bucky shrugged. “He’s never said as much out loud, but there have been some hints. Ask Natasha if you want details, she knows everything about everybody.”
Peter exhaled a shaky laugh, his shoulders loosening just a little. "So I was worried for nothing?"
"Nah, it’s normal to worry." Bucky leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "But you’re family here, Peter. And family sticks around."
Peter looked down at his phone, the weight of anxiety slowly lifting from his chest. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to be as hard as he thought.
Peter sat with Bucky’s words for a long moment, letting the warmth of them settle over him like a security blanket. Family. That was what the Avengers were supposed to be. Maybe it was time to trust that.
The common room was quiet once more, lit by the dim glow of a few lamps, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen filling the silence. Peter could hear faint voices down the hall, the team scattered in different corners of the tower, unwinding for the night. His fingers hovered over his phone again. This time, instead of deleting and rewriting, he took a deep breath and simply typed: "Hey everyone, can we meet in the common room? There's something I want to talk about."
The message was sent before he could second-guess it. His stomach twisted as the responses rolled in, quick and casual— sure, be right there, what’s up, kid? —like it was any other meeting. No turning back now.
Bucky gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, keeping a watchful but casual presence. One by one, the team trickled in. Natasha and Clint arrived first. Natasha perched on the arm of the couch while Clint sprawled out like he’d been in the middle of a nap. Thor came next, his laughter carrying from the hallway before he even stepped inside with Doctor Banner following cautiously behind. Steve followed them, his brow slightly furrowed in curiosity, giving Peter a nod in greeting. And finally, Tony—fashionably late, as always—sauntered in with a steaming cup of coffee, looking half-amused and half-expectant.
"Alright, Parker, you’ve got the floor," Tony said, settling into a chair and stretching his legs out. "This better not be another ‘I accidentally released nanobots into the ventilation system’ situation."
Peter exhaled sharply through his nose, almost laughing. "It’s not."
He looked around at the team—his team. His heart pounded in his chest, and his palms felt damp. Bucky had said it wouldn’t change anything, but fear still clawed at his ribs, whispering all the worst-case scenarios. But they were waiting, eyes on him, not with impatience but with quiet expectation.
He could do this.
"So... I wanted to tell you guys something," he started, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "It’s—well, it’s kind of a big deal to me. I’ve been wanting to say it for a while, but I wasn’t sure how."
Steve’s brow furrowed in concern. "You okay, son?"
Peter nodded quickly, a little too quickly. "Yeah, I’m okay. Just nervous. But—I’m trans. I’m a guy, but I wasn’t assigned male at birth. And I just... I wanted you all to know."
The words hung in the air, heavier than he expected. A beat of silence followed. Peter’s breath caught in his throat, anxiety surging forward like a tidal wave. Had he miscalculated? Had he been wrong to trust them with this? But then—
"Oh, thank god," Clint said, throwing his arms up. "I was worried this was gonna be something bad."
Natasha shot him a look, but her expression softened as she turned back to Peter, offering a small smile. "Thanks for telling us."
"Aye! A most honourable truth!" Thor boomed, clapping Peter on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. "Your courage is commendable, young Parker."
Peter blinked. "So... you’re all okay with it?"
Tony scoffed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Kid, do you think I care? I’m bisexual and half the people in this room are somewhere on that spectrum. Welcome to the club."
Steve nodded, his blue eyes kind. "Doesn’t change a thing, Peter."
Bucky smirked, nudging him lightly. "Told you."
Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The tension in his shoulders melted away, replaced by something light, something warm. Relief. Acceptance.
"Thanks, guys," he said, and he meant it.
Tony clapped his hands together. "Great. Now that that’s settled, who wants pizza?"