Peter thought it got easier. He thought with practice and time it would get easier. He wouldn't be so shaky, his throat wouldn't close up as much, his forehead wouldn't be covered in a layer of sweat. Clearly, it didn't get easier. He paced his room pack and forth, hesitating to open the door. All he had to do was walk down the hallway and hand him the letter. That's it, he would have to talk, hold eye contact, anything. Yet why was he so nervous. Who was he kidding, he knew why. This would be the first time he told someone in the tower. He was lucky enough to have supportive friends, but his family was something else.

He knew it was dumb, panicking over coming out to a family that is primarily in the community. Christ, he had two dads. He knew they would be supportive, he knew. But the little voice in his head kept nagging him.

Peter had put this off for too long. He had to bite the bullet. He swallowed his nerves and gripped the letter in hand. This was only the first step. He'd have to do it again, but a step was a step.

The air felt colder as he walked down the hallway. He heard a faint sound come from the living room, where he found Clint watching a movie. No one else was around as they were either out on a mission or busy running errands.

Peter quietly came into Clint's field of vision, waving softly to get his attention.

Clint noticed him and paused the movie, "Hey kid, what's up?" Clint immediately noticed Peter's nervous state. He quickly took into the fact that he was shifting his weight on his heels and fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. "Can we talk?" Clint gave him a soft nod and stood up to face the teen. Peter didn't speak, he just quietly handed Clint the letter. "This for me?", Peter softly nodded, not bothering to look at his eyes.

Once he felt Clint take the letter, he dashed back to his room. He cried. Peter didn't know why but he felt like he was choking. He ran to his bathroom and took down the hoodie that hung over his head. Jesus, he felt sick. Peter has come to this exact same spot before, tear-stained face staring at the mirror in disgust. However today he was too overwhelmed. He shakily grabbed the pair of dull scissors he kept in his bathroom cabinet and looked into the mirror. He couldn't even call it a mirror anymore. So he gave in. The moment he saw the first lock of hair fall to the ground, he couldn't stop. He cut more and more off till his entire sink couldn't even be seen through the amounts of hair. Peter dried his face and looked at the mirror. It started to work. He ran his hands through his hair, fixing any areas he deemed uneven or too long.

He quietly picked up the hair in the sink and dumped it in the trash, not wanting to clog his sink. Peter made his way back into his room, only to be met with a knock on his door.

He immediately became aware of his situation and silently panicked. "Kid, can I come in? I read the note." Clint softly said. Peter swallowed his nerves once again and opened the door. They were gonna have to see him eventually.

He quietly opened the door, avoiding eye contact, suddenly finding his floor tiles very interesting. The older man was about to speak before he took in Peter's hair. Clint softly placed his hand on Peter's hair and ruffled it a bit.

"It looks good, kid. What should I call you?" Peter looked up and tried to contain his tears, "Peter." Clint nodded and ran his hand through his hair once more, "It looks good Peter. May I come in?" Peter moved to let Clint make his way into his room, quietly sitting on the edge of his bed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before the older one quietly spoke up. "So who else knows."

Peter paused for a few minutes, "Just my friends and you. You're actually the first person in the tower I've told." he softly laughed and relaxed as he noticed Clint softly smile. "Well, I'm very glad you told me. It took a lot of courage." They both sat in comfortable silence for a while before hearing sparks coming from the kitchen. Stephen was home. Clint silently got up and patted Peter on the back before making his way out.

Now he was alone with his thoughts. Peter felt relieved. He softly fell back onto his bed and took a deep breath. He stared at his white ceiling for a few minutes, running his fingers through his hair. He felt like a massive weight was taken off his shoulders.

His encounter with Clint had sparked a little confidence in him. Regardless, he's been meaning to tell his Father. He's been putting this off for weeks. The mere thought of being deadnamed and misgendered made his stomach turn. After a few minutes of debating with himself, Peter sluggishly got up and made his way to the kitchen.

Clint and Stephen were quietly drinking some coffee as Stephen was explaining how his visit to the sanctum went. Stephen was the first to notice Peter as he made his way into the kitchen. Clint noticed Stephen was focused on Peter so he left to give them their space.

"Hey, how was the Sanctum?" Peter asked, his voice clearly shaking. He was stalling, his confidence from earlier immediately disappeared. Stephen quietly placed his cup of coffee down on the counter. "It was ok. Wong asked about you." Peter felt his throat slowly close up. "That's nice to hear." They both stood in silence, Stephen looking head-on at Peter, while Peter looked everywhere besides his Father. God his nerves were eating him alive. He was suddenly much warmer. Did the temperature drop or was it just his anxiety manifesting on his forehead as a layer of sweat. He suddenly became hyper-aware of his voice, how high it was. The tension in the room was suffocating.

"So mind explaining the new haircut?" Stephen spoke up, breaking the silence.

There was no way out of it now. Peter had avoided this for so long. A part of him knew his Father wouldn't care and would be more than happy to support him but again, that damn voice in the back of his mind. It kept nagging him. Especially now. Peter finally looked up and made eye contact with his Father. Stephen stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"There's no easy way to say this but," Peter tried to get the words out but felt his throat go dry. He needed a drink. "I'm not your daughter." Shit, Peter didn't think this through. He could be throwing away his relationship with his Father. Fuck.

"I'm sorry?" Stephen was clearly confused and Peter took it as an opening to apologize and run.

He ran back into his room, locking the door behind him and falling to his knees. The room was cold and the curtains stopped any light from entering.

Peter cried.

Minutes felt like hours. He was scared. Peter sat in silence, sitting in his frustration and pain. He just wanted to disappear.

After a few minutes of Stephen listening to Peter cry, he knocked."Hey... do you need to talk to someone? You know I'm always here to listen to you." Peter hesitated for a moment before he got up from the floor and went to open the door. As much as he hated this feeling, the mere idea of his family deadnaming and misgendering him was worse.

"Hey.." Stephen softly greeted him as Peter opened the door, a few seconds of silence followed. And then Peter gave up. He fell into his Father's arms and cried. Stephen didn't ask, he just took Peter and sat down with him in his room. He let Peter have his moment.

Peter felt pathetic, crying so helplessly into his Father's arm, but he had to let it out or else he knew he would explode.

Peter probably spent 10 minutes just silently sobbing, with constant affirmations from Stephen telling him he was okay. After a few minutes, Peter sniffled and looked up at his Father. Clothes ruined and tear-stained.

"What's going on Peg?" Stephen asked. At this moment Peter just had to let it out. Peggy. It didn't sound like him. It wasn't him. It was some twisted fantasy.

He took a deep breath as he shakingly looked at his Father. "You know I meant it. When I said I'm not your daughter." Peter said in a hushed tone. "I mean, I'm aware Steve was the one who originally adopted you but I'm still your-" Peter cut him off.

"I'm your son."

He said. The words felt thick but once they were out, Peter felt at ease. Now he just waited on Stephen's reaction. "Son? Wait, Peggy, are you transgender?" Peter nodded and tensed his shoulders. He panicked a little, assuming his Father would either yell or hit him but he felt his nerves melt away as Stephen hugged him a little tighter.

"Hey, I'm so glad you decided to tell me. Please remember that I will always love you, regardless of your gender. You are still the kid I raised and loved. If this is who you are, then this is who you are. I'm sorry you couldn't have told me sooner. I love you, son." Peter returned the hug, pulling Stephen closer, if that was even possible. A massive weight was off his shoulders. Peter was crying way more than he wanted to admit.

"Peter...It's Peter"

"I love you, Peter.

"I love you too, Dr.Dad"