One Month

Chapter Six

A.N.

I feel this has to be pointed out before this chapter begins. When Peter began ballet, he had not yet realized that he was trans. Although he knew that something was different between him and little girls, he hadn't concluded what. Aunt May and Uncle Ben let him make his own decisions in this department and didn't really hold him back. Peter took about any role he could get because of his love for dancing and was taught en pointe when his teacher believed he was ready. I'm aware not many men know or ever even learn en pointe, but Peter does in this story.

Peter stretched as his headphones blasted -- well, "blasted" to Peter's ears -- his classical playlist. His eyes trailed over the streetlights of the city before he reached into his bag again. He had escaped back to Queens for the night; he had lied to Tony that he would be spending the night with Ned. However, Ned was on a family trip and Peter just wanted to be alone for the night.

He tied the ribbons of his pointe shoes around his ankles after he finished stretching, then he stood to his feet. Peter remembered how he had felt that morning when he'd watched Natasha dance.

He pulled up a video, "The Sugar Plum Fairy (Official Audio)" and he performed the same moves Natasha had been practicing that morning. He stumbled within the first couple of second as his ankles ached already. It had slipped his mind that he had not danced in nearly four years.

Peter remembered how many times his teacher had warned kids about dancing en pointe too early, and he hesitated before he untied the ribbons around his ankles and slipped the shoes off. The performance wouldn't be perfect without his pointe shoes, but Peter did not want to have to explain an ankle injury to the team.

The music looped before Peter began again, and he focused solely on his dance. He stumbled again, only to continue from where he was. He took in a loud breath as the music came to a stop and so did he.

His chest rose and fell as his nose flared. His body -- especially his legs -- reminded him that he had not danced in years. Peter cursed refusing to dance for Aunt May the several times that she had asked. He wished that she had been there to laugh and taunt him. "I told you that you would miss it," he could hear her voice. "Except, now you have to completely restart with that training of yours."

Peter laughed, a little too loud, as he pulled his headphones down to his neck. The music was still on loop and he could hear it. "Miss it?" Peter asked the night. Then he shook his head. "I don't miss it, I never really left it behind. How could I miss it?"

He remembered every time that he had craved to dance again. He remembered every time that he had denied himself the one hobby he loved most in the world. He remembered Natasha's question and how "dance" had been the first thing to come to his mind.

"Do it again," his teacher's voice was all too familiar in his head, and he restarted the music as he stood into position, "Begin," and he began.

Peter spent the majority of his night in Queens on the rooftop, dancing. By midnight, he had put his pointe shoes back on although he knew it was too soon. He honestly did not care at that point, ready to dance how he used to.

"You already have one part you hide about yourself," Aunt May's voice echoed in his skull. "Don't create another secret you feel like you have to keep all to that big brain of yours."

"It's called self-preservation, Aunt May," Peter had answered that day. It was one of the first weeks after he had quit and his body had burned to dance. Still, he had held to his promise to himself. He would be a cool guy during high school; he would not be the school ridicule like in middle school.

"A lot of good that did you," Peter mumbled to himself. "Aunt May was right." He stalled before he stepped onto the edge of the roof. The concrete was smoother here, it wouldn't completely destroy the platform of his shoe. He stood on the tip of his toes -- or rather the tip of the box -- and he began practicing his pirouettes and fouettés.

When he stumbled on the edge, he allowed himself to fall to his bottom. His legs hung off the edge of the roof, and he realized only then that his vision was blurred.

Peter reached up and wiped at his eyes. Tears were starting to well up, and he pulled his headphones off before he grabbed his phone. There were several texts and calls that he hadn't answered, and he continued to ignore them as he turned his music off.

"Aunt May was always right," Peter mumbled out as the tears freely fell. He pulled one leg up and took off his shoe before he pulled the other and took off the other shoe. Barefoot, he walked to his bag, pulled his hoodie free before he pushed the pointe shoes and his headphones into the bag.

Peter pulled on his hoodie and sneakers before he grabbed his bag and phone. It vibrated in his hands, and this time, checked it. Ned had texted him, and Peter sighed knowing that Tony had caught him in his lie. He figured that it wouldn't take him long; Peter knew now that Pepper was asleep and could no longer stop Tony.

"Tony Stark just called me asking if you were with me, Peter," Ned's text read. Peter simply replied with a short, "Sorry. I'll explain later." He powered off his cellphone and used his web-shooters to head for the cemetery that his family was buried in.