Chapter Text
Otto knew something was off with Peter as soon as the young hero stepped into the lab.
“New look, Peter?” Otto gave an amused smile at the man stepping into the lab. “What prompted the..new hair?”
The boy simply combed his new side swept hair. “Nothing. Just wanted to.” His brief mumble caught the doctor off guard as he brushed past him.
Otto watched as Peter sluggishly tugged on his lab coat and goggles, the boy slumping into his desk as he began to work without any further words.
Yeah, something was off.
Whether it was the loss of the skip in the boy’s usual step or the light in his voice was tucked away in his mumble, Otto knew that he had to find out what. He simply continued to watch Peter fumble with a test tube, then bit his lip. “So, my dear boy, did you have a hard patrol day? You look a little…overworked.”
From the look on Peter’s face, maybe he should have worded that better.
“I’m looking sharp, that’s what.” His tone stung with contempt. Otto leaned back in his seat, brows furrowed.
“Wh-what is this attitude? Did you not sleep or something?!”
“It’s just me being me, dude.”
Otto’s eyes widened. “‘Dude?!’ You did not just call me ‘dude.’” He chuckled out of shock. “Peter, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Otto blinked as Peter swirled quite comfortably on the rolly chair, little propped feet now on the desk. “What you should be worried about is yourself doc, I’m working and you’re the one distracting me.”
Now that got Octavius’ attention. He stood up. “Peter, come over here.”
“Why?”
“Just…get over here, will you?”
“No.”
Otto sighed, an actuator grabbing the back of the boy’s lab coat. With a fast tug, Peter rolled towards Otto in his swivel chair. His legs swung down, making the man gasp. “Hey-hey!”
Two other metal claws halted the chair’s spinning so he was facing the scientist. With the Spider-Man in full view, Otto could finally process just what the boy was wearing, and oh my, was it…something.
He thought the slicked hair was just a new look Peter was going for, but Otto found the boy not only wearing skinny dress pants, but a black blazer with the collar covering his neck, worn messily over the kid’s black dress shirt. Watching as Peter struggled to move, he noticed the odd black dress shoes he was wearing as well, shiny and maybe flat enough to scream “what am I wearing?”
He pulled Peter closer to him, eyeing the combover again as noticed something else. Was he wearing…eyeliner?
“Peter, I was trying to keep my tongue tied, but what the hell are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?” Peter hissed.
Otto tried to let the snark go aside. “I mean, my dear boy, if you were dressing up to go on a date with Mary Jane, why didn’t you ask me? You look like you’re going to a funeral on Sunday.” Otto gently had Flo fix Peter's hair, while Moe, Larry, and Harry fixed the collar, pulled up Peter's pants, and even shined his shoes a bit. Otto sighed in relief as he saw Peter looking relatively like himself, other than the odd red color now on his face. Quite confused at the reaction, Otto set Peter free, helping him adjust on his feet.
What Otto didn’t expect was as soon as Peter raised his head, angry eyes looked solely at him, no longer baby blues but dark grays. “What did you just do to me?!” Peter spit out, pale hands lifted as he pointed an index finger directly at Otto. He tried to fix his hair again. “I looked perfect and you ruined it!”
Otto blinked. What?
“Peter…” he raised a hand out to the boy who immediately slapped it, Otto stepping back stunned.
“No, get away from me!” Peter hissed as he quickly gathered his things at his desk, trying to wipe the now visible tears willing to spill.
Otto immediately put his shocked self to the side as soon as he saw his glistening eyes. “Peter…”
Peter shook his head as he stomped out of the lab with a growl, throwing his lab coat on the floor. His goggles clattered on the concrete moments later.
What the heck just happened?
***
“I don’t know what got into him,” Otto held his head in his hands, elbows on his kitchen table. Norman Osborn and Flint Marko exchanged concerned glances. The men thought Octavius’ desperate phone call was about some type of natural disaster or horribly failed experiment, not about parental troubles. Either way, the dads knew well enough his worries were valid.
“You said this started today?” Flint asked, and Otto nodded.
“With the clothes and everything?” Norman chimed in, and Otto nodded again. Osborn hummed. “Harry didn’t change that fast. And at this age.”
“Harry went through this?” Otto raised his head, a tad shocked at the concept.
“So did Penny,” Flint added with a laugh, “it’s a phase most teens go through, contradicting literally everything around them.”
Doc Ock groaned and lowered his head. He did not sign up for this part of parenting. An angsty spider-man? Wearing all black? Being the biggest you-know-what to him? No, he wanted his old Peter back. “What made you get through to them?”
“Unending love, listening to them, and when it’s necessary, make them laugh.” The former Sandman smiled softly. “Can’t let them forget to smile.”
“And a lot of patience, my dear friend.” Norman tried to hide a slight grimace; a faint memory of Harry slamming his door shut with the music turned high. It wasn’t a pleasant day. “If you don’t have the right amount of patience, you’re bound to go a bit crazy yourself.”
Otto chuckled at that. “Oh boy. Wish me luck, then.”
“Oh, and he might snap at ya,” Osborn hissed nervously, “but know it isn’t personal. They often say things without thinking.”
“More than snap,” Flint scoffed playfully, shaking his head in memory of a very angry Peter Parker trying to kill him. “You know, this actually would have been around the time he tried to drown me…” Marko looked up to see Norman angrily shushing him. He shut his mouth when seeing Otto’s perplexed and quite horrified expression.
“Or you know, yeah, he will probably just snap at ya. That’s all.” A loud facepalm echoed in the room.
“Okay…” The doctor’s eyes flew back and forth between the two men. He cleared his throat and gave a soft smile to them. “Well…I’m grateful. I’ll do what I can to keep him in line. I just want him to be good.”
“We know he’s a good kid, Otto. And you’re doing your best.” Norman placed a hand on Octavius. “It’ll be alright.” The two scientists shared warm looks as Flint scratched his chin.
“Otto,” his gaze was fixated on the table as he leaned back, “you said Peter changed in one day, right?”
“Why, yes. He was perfectly okay yesterday.” The doctor took a sip of his tea.
Flint Marko felt deja vu in his bones. Around this year in their universe’s timeline would have been when he met Peter, and fought him as the Sandman. And at the same time, that’s when…oh no. Oh no. “Otto…” Marko bit his lip.
“Yes?”
After a beat passed, along with Norman’s narrowed glare, Flint shook his head. “Nevermind.” Maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell him that.
***
Now, it was just a matter of talking to the boy. But first, Otto had to find the boy, which was more difficult than he imagined since he hadn’t come by the lab or Otto’s apartment for a few days now. And on top of that, he wouldn’t answer his phone.
Maybe this is what Peter needed: some space, Otto thought as he strolled down the wet sidewalk. With his work paused due to the incident, the scientist found himself outside the past three days, even when this one was quite rainy. As Flo held an umbrella over his head, the doctor continued his journey through the gray day of New York.
But his walk meant to distract him suddenly drew his attention elsewhere. A grunt echoed across the street.
Otto paused.
Seconds later, he heard a struggle break out from the same area, most likely coming from the alleyway he was staring at. Looking both ways, Otto hurriedly walked across the asphalt, a wave of worry hitting him. Someone must’ve been in trouble.
The sounds of fighting grew louder once Otto snuck past the brick walls and further into the alley. Turning a corner, he froze in place, Flo dropping the umbrella with a loud clunk. “Peter!”
His once red and blue clothed apprentice was dawned in a pure black suit, silver webbed lining glistening in the rain. In his clutches looked to be a rugged crook of sorts. Peter’s fist was reeled back, but everything halted when he noticed his mentor watching. The loud and cold raindrops pelting the ground deafened the air.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the mugger gave a sharp punch to Peter’s face. The black-suited Spider-Man dropped his victim with a grunt, letting the criminal scramble away. Peter gasped. “HEY!!”
But it was too late, the mugger already ran into the shadows. Peter cussed under his breath and turned to the scientist. “The hell, man?!”
Octavius had no words. Yes, sometimes fighting occurred in his line of work, but Peter would never hit first, nor be pissed off when he failed to do so.
Otto stepped forward, firmly grabbing the man’s shoulders. “Dear God, boy, what are you doing??”
“My job,” the spider scoffed, “until you came and ruined it!” He pushed Otto, slightly trying to get out of the grip. “Now, please leave. You’re cramping my style, pops!”
Otto cringed so hard that even his actuators whirred in surprise. “Oh god, the hormones, they’re getting crazier.”
“What did you just say?!” Like movie magic, Peter’s raised voice must have raised the power of the rain, because it came pouring down.
Otto hissed in discomfort along with his actuators, who clearly didn’t like the rain as much either. “Let’s get out of here! We need to talk!”
“No, we don’t! I got work to do, Ottie!”
Otto’s eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t call me that.”
Even if he had the mask on, Peter’s smirk could be seen growing. “Oh, you don’t like that, Ottie? Well that’s your new nickname, chump. Ottie, Ottie, Ottie!” The black-suited boy teased childishly.
Otto’s gaze formed into a glare. That’s it. Playtime was over.
Four actuators zoomed at Spider-Man and attempted to snatch him. However, that was difficult when Peter’s legs kicked at the claws coming at him. He sure moved fast like a spider. Eventually Flo grabbed him by the scruff of Peter's suit, like a very naughty kitten. “Hey-HEY!! LEMME GO!!”
“No. We’re going home and you’re staying at my place, capiche?” Otto didn’t expect Peter to hiss at him in response. The boy was flailing his limbs in every direction possible, too. Otto bit his lip, fighting back a smile as he carried the squirming man out of the alley. Moe picked up the umbrella, Harry helped open it, and then Larry held it over Peter. He had to be freezing in that suit...that black suit. Where did he get it, anyways?
***
“PUT. ME. DOWN!”
Father, he’s getting water all over the carpet!
“It’s fine Flo. We’ll make him clean it up later or something,” Otto sighed as they finally entered his warm apartment, shaking off the water from his umbrella outside as the actuators shook like wet puppies. Otto simply shook his head in amusement as they trailed inside, putting their things away.
“UGH!! OTTO!”
“I thought I was Ottie?” Otto started to warm up a couple of drinks. “Could you stop flailing? Flo doesn’t like that and you know she’s sensitive.”
“I don’t care!” Peter growled as he pulled his wet mask off, a forming purple bruise visible on his face from the punch earlier. He resumed trying to escape from the scruff embrace and when Peter almost did, Harry wrapped around his waist, causing the boy to shout a few curse words.
“Hey! Watch your mouth, boy. That better not be towards any of them.” Jeez, Norman and Flint forgot to mention the unending cursing during this phase, and frankly, Otto did not like hearing such filthy words coming from what was once his sweet mentee's mouth.
The smell of coffee and sound of Peter's grunts filled the air, prompting Otto to move to his living room, deciding on what to do. Maybe he should get the boy into warm clothes, that could ease up the grumpiness. “Peter, why don’t you change into dry clothes? I have some pajamas you can use and I could throw that suit into the dryer-“
“I like my clothes, thanks,” Peter said without any gratitude, still flailing. “You probably don’t have any stylish clothes for me to wear anyways.”
Are pajamas supposed to be stylish, father?
“No Larry, there not supposed to be.” Otto blinked as he looked at the boy directly.
“That wasn’t an offer or a suggestion. I’m telling you to change into dry clothes. You’re shivering.” Otto proceeded to take a dry towel from the rack and tried to wrap it around Peter to dry him off the best he could. Of course, the boy didn’t accept.
“Lay off,” Peter narrowed his eyes. “And you can’t tell me what to do, I can do what I want.”
“In this scenario, you really can’t.” Otto shrugged, “Now, go get into dry clothes and tell me what’s wrong.”
“No.”
The doctor sighed. “Why are you being so incompliant, Peter? What is going on with you, dear boy?” Otto gently put his hands out to him, but was promptly smacked away.
“Nothing, Otto! Jeez!” Peter rolled his eyes, letting his limbs go limp in annoyance. “For the love of God, stop asking!”
Otto sighed, recollecting himself. The last thing he wanted to do now was hurt his apprentice. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“Don’t be!! You aren’t my uncle! Or my dad!! So shut up!” Peter spat, the sharp words cutting deeper than Otto expected. He blinked, feeling what he just heard settle in his soul.
Ouch. Actually, more than ouch!
Now, Otto wasn’t a rude person, he never was, even after the events of his tragic life. But Otto has always been brash, stern and mostly honest. Too brutally honest to no matter who.
Otto exhaled from his nose as he tried to keep his temper from rising, or simply from the physical feeling of his heart wanting to crack. “You know what, that’s enough out of you, Peter.” Otto had the actuator pull Peter closer, the man’s angry eyes not bothering to waver. Otto wasn’t intimidated.
“I know I’m not your father or your uncle, nor will I ever be. I’m just trying my best to make sure your head stays in the right place on your shoulders, young man.” Otto watched as Peter looked away, unbothered. “Well, are you gonna say something?”
“Some-thing,” the boy emphasized every syllable with a smirk, like a little kid who knew they were charting deep territories. “Happy? Now, can you let me go, Doc? My time has pretty much been wasted by your rant-”
“Okay that’s it! You know what?!” Otto brought Peter closer to him, Otto not paying attention by the way Peter's eyes widened in surprise by his yelling. “You wanna act like a brat Peter? Fine! Be one, okay? You’re a young adult, you can make your own choices!” Otto led to look outside the window, pointing a stern finger to the glass.
“It’s raining hard, and by the time you reach your apartment your spider hormones won’t be warm enough to keep you alive, kid. Spiders don’t thermoregulate, you know that! The longer we talk while you soak in your own bratty-ness and filth, the closer you will get sick! Is that what you want Peter? Do you want to get severely sick, Peter? Just because you can’t keep your ego in check?!”
Otto wasn’t filtering what he was saying now, especially when he saw Peter open his mouth.
“No! Not another word out of you, boy! You’re… I’m not gonna let Spider-Man freeze himself to death..so..you’re grounded!”
Peter growled, “You can’t do that! Let me go! You’re not my uncle! You’re not Uncle Ben!” Peter was squirming frantically again, repeating what he said earlier. “You will never-”
“EVEN IF I WAS, PETER, GOD, YOUR UNCLE AND FATHER WOULD BE SO DISAPPOINTED IN THE WAY YOU ARE BEHAVING RIGHT NOW! I KNOW I AM!”
…
And for once, Peter had nothing to say, breath hitched. Otto watched as the boy’s dark blue eyes widened. They were blue, a dark blue. But nonetheless, for a split second, they were those baby blue eyes Otto knew, not whatever grayness encapsulated them moments ago.
Otto was still seething as Peter was processing what words were said. Otto knew his temper flew out of line more than expected, but he's the adult, and orders were gonna be followed no matter what reaction Peter might have now.
“So…here’s what’s gonna happen, Spider-Man: you’re gonna go take a shower and change into fresh clean clothes and get warm. The storm outside isn’t going away anytime soon. After the storm passes, you can leave if you’d like, but I’m not letting you freeze to death. Do I make myself clear, Peter?”
Otto tried to ignore the crack his heart formed when he saw Peter’s lip wobble dangerously, or the way the boy’s face looked minutes away from bursting into tears.
No. He’s just trying to trick you into feeling bad, right? Isn’t that what this phase includes too?
Before Otto could finish his inner dialogue, he was already gently setting the boy down from his grip and nudging Peter over to the guest room. Peter simply dragged himself as he went to shower, not even slamming the door which the doctor expected.
As soon as Peter left the room, Otto let his posture slant as his actuators curled around him to comfort him.
“Dear God, what the hell just happened?”