Chapter Text

Let Me See

Spider-Man ran out the way.

He aimed his wrist high; it took a second to get the webbing to hit the building, but only a second more for the Rhino to strike him. There was no pain at first. He simply felt himself spun through the air and cast aside, so that he landed like a rag doll on the pavement, and – as he rolled onto his back – he felt something wet and warm over his suit. The material clung to him uncomfortably; it was like a second skin, but it stayed still even as he moved, and it tugged at some fresh wound on his side. The pain ripped through him.

There were too many sounds to decipher. He heard a woman scream in the distance, followed by sirens and car alarms, and laughter was added to that in a weird cacophony of noise. He tried to block it all out and focus on getting to safety. The ground vibrated underneath him. He began to feel dizzy and nauseous, as his mouth ran dry and tasted like iron, but people were running all around him and shots were being fired, no one seemed to want to stop.

Spider-Man raised a hand upward, but it shook in the air and felt heavy. The energy it took to brace it against a wall was too much, especially when it was such a struggle to focus as things stood, but – even as the world moved around him – he pulled himself up into a sitting position, as he leaned back against the brick wall. He felt the blood drip down his side and onto his thigh, before it trickled further down onto his groin, and he suddenly felt his head grow light and felt unable to stay awake. The Rhino was just a distraction, something to hide from the explosions in the distance. He needed to warn them.

“Spider-Man, stay calm, help’s on its way.”

The voice was familiar. It was feminine, rather low and a bit deep, but comforting and authoritative, like maybe Black Widow’s or some other heroine. The pressure on his wound was agonising. He barely recognised the scream he let out, let alone could make sense of anything that went on around him, and he realised that it wouldn’t be long until he passed out from the pain. It was hot and loud and coursed through him. It was too much.

“Stay awake now, okay?”

It was terrifying. He couldn’t see anything except a screen of colours and shapes, like the worst migraine of his life, and he could feel his organs tense and pulsate, as if every orifice sought to expel every ounce of liquid it could. It was horrifying . . . excruciating . . .

“Don’t close your eyes. Listen to me, S.H.I.E.L.D. is on its way.”

“I – I can’t . . . I’m s-sorry . . . I feel too –”

“Spider-Man? Spider-Man!”

* * *

‘ - secondary mutation?’

‘No, he – he’s not a mutant, Tony. That’s not –’

‘Possible? Yeah, well, you and me both know that a lot of things aren’t possible. Look, let’s just get Strange or someone on the line, alright? This is got to be a mutant thing. If it’s not, I’ll walk down Main Street wearing nothing but a smile.’

‘I’m pretty sure you already did that one.’ Someone laughed. ‘Listen, I know you want this to be something . . . well . . . “normal”, but there isn’t really anything normal about it. Even if he were carrying the X-Gene, any natural mutations would be repressed due to the environmental mutations. You can’t be both a mutate and a mutant. It’s not possible.’

‘That’s assuming this works like a mutation, though. What if this is just a biological thing? It could be like webbed feet or a third nipple. Maybe lots of mutants get it, but it’s like independent of their powers or something. How many would even find out or notice?’

‘In the history of mankind, you don’t think one mutant would notice?’

‘Why not? I barely notice how it hurts like f-’

* * *

Peter woke up to a strange room.

It wasn’t home, that much was for sure. The walls were a startling shade of white, while the windows were absolutely huge, enough that they reached wall to wall and floor to ceiling, and the view was unlike anything he could ever remember. He could see the entire city before him; it was beautiful, so much so that he could see how alive it became at night, and the millions of lights glistened as if they sought to greet him personally.

There wasn’t much else in the room worth note. The room was larger than he entire apartment, complete with what looked like a door to an en suite, but there was no real furnishings aside from the king-sized bed. It was comfortable, that much Peter could be certain, but it lacked the lumps and bumps of his bed, along with the gritty and rough sheets, and he even missed the way that the spring on the bottom corner poked him in his foot any time he rolled over. He wasn’t used to luxury, especially unknown luxury.

“W-where am I?”

Peter pulled himself up into a sitting position; the sheets slid down to his waist, where he quickly realised that he was naked and bandaged. The bandages were wrapped professionally around his waist, from just under his nipples to just above his hip bones, and his body was pale enough that he looked as weak as he felt. It was then a strange clicking noise was heard, rather like a machine turning on or an audio about to play, and a voice echoed about the room from some unseen sound system. It was familiar, but very mechanical.

‘You are currently inside Stark Tower, Mr Parker.’

“Where – where’s everyone? Are they . . . are they alive?”

‘Mr Stark has asked me to inform you that everyone is most fine.’ J.A.R.V.I.S. paused before it continued its speech. ‘Mr Stark has been alerted as to your current condition, as such he is presently on his way with Mr Banner. They should arrive within five minutes.’

That news made him jump in surprise. He let his eyes dart around the room for something to wear, but there was nothing except cool tiles and blank walls. There was no way that he would chance running into the bathroom, as – knowing his luck – he would come back out to see Tony and Bruce staring at him in his birthday suit, but he hated the idea of sitting naked in bed while visitors came. He still couldn’t remember how he even got to bed.

It hurt to move, enough that each time would welcome a shooting pain, and so he kept his body as still as possible and let it rest against the pillows behind him. He pulled the sheets up as high as possible, in an attempt to preserve some modesty, but positively hated how thin they were and how they may as well have not been there at all. There was no doubt that this was Tony’s place, even if J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn’t said anything, because only Tony could get sheets that moulded themselves to a person’s body and left nothing to the imagination.

Luckily, he was distracted by the sound of the door opening.

Bruce walked quickly inside, with his back bowed in a way that only he ever seemed to manage. It always made Peter feel slightly sorry for him, as he always looked like he sought to hide into himself, and the watch on his wrist – designed to monitor his heartbeat – was conspicuous enough to serve as a constant reminder of his other self. He was dressed in a loose shirt, opened at the top few buttons, and carried a clipboard in his arms. Peter looked at the reflection in the man’s glasses, where he caught the word ‘mutation’ briefly, before Bruce turned away and made to stand at the foot of the bed. He looked serious.

It wasn’t long until Tony stumbled in, as he ran a hand over his bearded face, and it almost looked like he had stumbled out of bed or from a late night in the lab. He was flushed red all over, wearing just a loose pair of sleeping bottoms and a vest, while he scratched at his chest like he was nervous or hiding himself. The glow from the reactor in his chest was perhaps the only real colour in the room, although the light reflected in a strange way from the windows and Bruce’s glasses, and Peter was forced to rub his eyes to focus again.

“How’re you feeling?” Bruce asked.

“Like I’ve been hit by a rhino,” muttered Peter. “Oh, wait, I was.”

“Well, he’s got his snark back, at least,” said Tony. “Hey, kid, we’ve told your aunt not to worry; she’s insisted on coming over first thing tomorrow, so good luck with that, she’s got a lot of spunk for an old lady. Oh, we told MJ you’re okay, too. Still as fiery as ever, isn’t she? I know what they say about redheads, but . . . wow. I don’t envy you one bit.”

“Tell me about it,” laughed Peter. “It’s been pretty difficult lately. We’ve been pretty much slumming it in the tiniest apartment you’ve ever seen, while college and work have been taking up all our time . . . tonight was supposed to be our first date night in a month.”

“Well, I hope you weren’t planning on any hanky-panky. Unless she’s gotten a degree in nursing when I wasn’t looking, it’s probably best to leave off any activities that may reopen old wounds and leave you bleeding out over the place. You were pretty lucky. You’ve got more stitches in you than I have shrapnel, but – with your healing abilities – there should barely be so much as a scar in a few days. Got to say, you heal pretty good.”

Peter winced, as Tony dropped down onto the side of the bed. He gave a good couple of bounces, until Bruce gave him a ‘look’ that told him to stop, and he eventually raised his hands in mock surrender and looked to Peter with something close to an apology. Peter sighed, as he wrapped his arms and the sheets around his stomach. The bandages felt warm and a little moist, enough that he was tempted to pull them off, but he fought the urge and began to fidget instead. He really hated how they felt against his skin.

“So . . . why aren’t I recovering at home?”

He looked between Tony and Bruce, before he caught the look shared between them, and suddenly he felt his stomach sink into his feet. The cold sense of dread made him realise that something was wrong; it felt like water had been doused over his skin, something cold that covered him from head to toe, and his breath stopped momentarily. He choked on the air, as he looked from one man to the other and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh God, something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Peter,” said Bruce kindly. “We just . . . found something.”

“Like – like what? It’s not a tumour, is it? I don’t think I could deal with that. I – I know I couldn’t deal with that! I’m all that my aunt has left, Bruce. Do you know how she’ll feel if anything happens to me? I feel awful just thinking about it. I can’t do that to her. I can’t!”

“Whoa, hold on there.” Bruce smiled and knelt down next to Tony. “It’s nothing serious, I can promise you. We saw something on the scan that we couldn’t explain, along with the fact your blood tests showed some anomalies, so we ran every test that we could while you were out, and – I can promise you that – you’re in absolute perfect health.”

There was a brief silence. Peter felt his heart race, as he looked down to Bruce beside him, but the middle-aged man just looked as calm as he possibly could, albeit with a slight frown to his face and a bite to his lip. Tony turned where he sat, so that his foot brushed against Bruce’s shoulder, although he ignored it and kept his full attention onto Peter, and it was then that Peter realised something really was wrong. They were hiding something from him. He looked from one to the other, as he tried to work out what had happened.

“Bruce, come on, you have to tell me . . .”

“We – we found an organ that we couldn’t quite identify,” said Bruce. “It’s nothing to worry about! It’s just . . . unusual. I’ve seen a few similar things in normal humans, but this -? It looks like you have a – well – uterus. The organ itself is shrivelled and couldn’t possibly be usable, not to mention the ovaries don’t seem to be producing eggs, and . . . it’s just . . .”

“It’s not actually properly attached to anything, except for a stray connection to part of the intestine, which we also couldn’t explain at first,” added Tony. “It wasn’t hurting you, so we could have left it, I suppose, but who knew why it was there, am I right?”

“We got in touch with Hank . . . er, Henry McCoy? We managed to work out what was going on in the end, as it turned out to be a sort of . . . mutation. It’s – it’s a part of the X-Gene, you see, but we’re still waiting for all the information to come through. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s something to do with a fertility issue that mutants have, what they believe might have evolved from a need to pass on the gene at all costs. Survival, really.”

Peter let a hand drop low on his stomach. He massaged the area just above the groin, between his two hips bones, and thought about how there was a uterus inside him. It didn’t work, which was a relief when he had no idea how it would work, but there it was and there it might always be, a constant reminder of what might have been. He thought about how MJ once miscarried, a result of an accidental pregnancy followed by an accidental blow, and how this might have been a solution later on in life, something to spare her that pain again.

It felt strange to miss what he never had, even as he shook his head and looked nervously between Bruce and Tony. They knew so much more than he did about the situation; they felt like rocks that he could lean upon, something stable in an unstable world, and he wondered just how he would explain this to MJ. He suddenly felt cold. Peter pulled the covers up to his chin, as he slid down into the bed and tried to wrap his head around the whole situation.

“That’s great, but I’m not a mutant,” said Peter.

“You have the X-Gene,” replied Tony. “We didn’t know, because it was probably recessive, like Wade Wilson’s and a few others, and – well – once the environmental factor kicks in and you gain your mutation that way -? It cancels out the natural mutation.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that,” said Bruce with a stern look to Tony. “In short? Yes, if you are by definition a mutate then usually you won’t come into your mutant powers, which isn’t to mention that the gene can be recessive and doesn’t always have to activate. In those few with the gene, however, it will almost always affect fertility. It may be why some humans are born with multiple sexual organs, or with some reproductive complications . . .

“In short, Hank believes that there are two states for a mutant to be, which are the ‘alpha’ state and the ‘omega’ state, terms taken from Ms Marvel and some of the younger generation, apparently it’s an Internet thing, go figure . . . I can barely keep up with slang as things stand, let alone when they throw in terms like me-me and –”

“It’s pronounced meem,” said Tony.

The look Bruce shot him was rather cold. It made Peter smile, as their chemistry and bickering was a constant source of amusement, and he actually laughed when Tony threw his hands up and shook his head with an ‘innocent’ expression. Peter caught how Bruce’s watch-face changed just ever so slightly, indicating that he was growing annoyed, but he controlled it well and simply drew in a deep breath and let his heart-rate fall low again.

“Carry on,” said Peter.

“The ‘alpha’ will be usually be a dominant personality, but have an exceptionally high fertility level, enough that they shouldn’t have any issue at all impregnating a human or mutant,” said Bruce. “There’s, ah, reason to believe that even the women produce some . . . er . . . sperm, for want of a better term. T-Tony can talk about female ejaculation once I’m out of the room, but theoretically those ‘alpha’ female mutants can impregnate others, too.

“The ‘omega’ mutants can produce and bear young, also regardless of biological sex. We had to consult very briefly with Thor about this one, as he claims Jotun physiology mimics this same state, but he said the intestine acts something like the oesophagus, in that there is an equivalent to the epiglottis that allows sperm to access the necessary organ. There’s something about the high fertility and ability for both sexes to either impregnate or be impregnated that . . . it allows for more children, more children pass on the gene to more people, it’s evolution at its finest, arguably. It would have worked, except . . .”

“Except evolution never accounted for the mass genocide of mutants,” said Tony. “It also doesn’t account for discrimination and the like, so . . . yeah. It’s probably why it’s never been an issue before, but get this -! Hank reckons that there’s also this whole pre-conditioned imperative to pass on the gene, so you can fall into this whole ‘rut’ or ‘heat’ thing, although it got pretty animalistic at that point, so I kind of switched off. In short, stay away from anyone who’s got a complementary chemical thingy, else you’ll be doing it like bunnies.”

“What Tony means to say is that certain times of the year will lead to increased – ah – sexual arousal, while certain people will also trigger this response, mainly those that you’re both attracted to and are opposite to your ‘gender’. It’s clear you’re omega, so I would advise staying away from any alpha men and women, especially if you’re attracted to them and it’s that time of the year. Hank says the reaction can get . . . intense.”

“Intense? How ‘intense’?” Peter asked. “Like what?”

Tony let out a loud laugh, but this time it was Peter that got annoyed. He stared down the older man, until he shrugged and turned his laughter into something like a chuckle, but he simply responded by a few ill-placed hand gestures and a waggling of his eyebrows. There was something deathly frustrating about him treating the situation like a joke, especially when it had such a huge potential impact on his future as a hero and an Avenger. Peter tried to sit up again, but Bruce held him back down by his shoulder.

“Remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off a certain someone?”

“T-that – that was – that was in the past!” Peter blushed. “It was a spider thing, plus we both got over that and we’re – we’re not -! I’m with MJ now! I’m graduating from college and we’re engaged and -! That sort of thing is never happening again!”

“Get real, Peter,” said Tony. “That ‘sort of thing’ probably happened as you’re an omega and she was probably an alpha, not to mention the time of year and all that other crap. It’s a chemical reaction, your body’s impulse to pass on its genetic material, can’t be helped. I guess it’s just a good thing that whatever’s in there is all shrivelled up like a prune. Imagine a whole nest of baby spiders? Yuck. If they had eight legs, I wouldn’t have babysat.”

Peter found enough strength to kick Tony off the bed. He quickly slid off onto the floor next to Bruce, where he made a show of acting like he was quite comfortable there, even as Bruce rolled his eyes and rose to tend to Peter. The clipboard was back in his hands, rather than beside him on the floor, and he began to take notes such as pulse-rate and temperature, as he fussed about Peter briefly and whispered occasional words of encouragement. It was a long moment before Peter found the courage to ask aloud:

“So – so what does this actually change?”

“Given how rare mutants are?” Bruce said. “Not much. It might change your dating pool, should you and MJ break up, but that would be it. You can’t carry any young, plus you’ve already had it for this long already . . . I wouldn’t worry too much. I just had a duty to tell you, both as your doctor and your friend. You can carry on with your usual birth control.”

“If that’s right, I kind of feel sorry for the X-Men.” Peter gave a nervous smile. “You’re telling me that it gets worse than teaching a boarding school filled with hormonal teenagers? They now have super fertility and gender isn’t even an issue?”

“That’s their problem,” said Tony. “As for you, will you be okay?”

“Well, it’s like you say, nothing’s changed, has it?”

He smiled weakly and looked up to the ceiling. The great expanse of white suddenly felt far colder than it had previously done; he always wanted a family, but he never for a second ever considered himself capable of being the one able to carry a child, and so nothing had exactly been lost. He looked out of the window with a saddened expression and focussed on the pain, as he used it to ground himself and focus on the situation at hand.

It was all so surreal; he had woken up with a new identity, a new part of himself that effectively defined a large part of him, and somehow he felt all the more hollow for it. Peter watched as the aeroplanes flew low, while the lights twinkled on and off from afar in buildings across the city, and yet he could hear nothing except Tony’s heavy breathing and the occasional scribble of Bruce’s pen across paper. Peter tried to roll onto his side, but the injury screamed at him in response and stopped him moving.

“Hey, can I have a minute alone?”

Bruce looked to Tony and nodded to the door, which gained an eye roll from the other man, even as he climbed to his feet and gave a loud yawn. He scratched just underneath his reactor, as he headed slowly over to the bedroom door, and Bruce followed slowly behind with the clipboard in hand. Bruce hit the light-switch on his way out, leaving just Tony standing in the doorway in the dark, with a somewhat confused expression and frown.

“Sure thing,” said Tony. “Shout if you need us.”

Peter nodded mostly to himself, as Tony left and closed the door behind him. He let his hand linger on his stomach, while words like ‘omega’ and ‘uterus’ and ‘heat’ echoed about his head, and realised – in a strangely distant way – none of that would affect him anyway.

“Nothing’s changed,” he muttered.