Scene: Brooklyn Heights – Late Morning
The Audi R8 Spider purred to a stop in front of a clean brick townhouse. Otto Octavius, dressed in a dark turtleneck under a sharply tailored long coat, stepped out, checking the mirror and brushing his layered wolf-cut back with surgical efficiency.
At the door stood Captain George Stacy, arms crossed.
He wasn't glaring — not yet — but every inch of the man screamed cop dad mode.
Otto approached with calm confidence. "Captain Stacy."
"Octavius," George replied flatly. "So you're the one with the silent car and an attitude like a calculator."
"I assure you, I'm far more efficient than any calculator."
George narrowed his eyes. "You're the one from the news. With the eyes. The arms."
"I wear contacts."
Gwen opened the door just in time to see the tension.
"Dad, stop trying to interrogate my date."
"This is a coffee date, not a black-ops mission."
"With him?" George jabbed a thumb toward Otto. "You sure?"
Gwen rolled her eyes and grabbed Otto's arm. "If he wanted to take over the world, he'd already have done it. We're getting coffee. Try not to tail us."
George muttered something about armor-piercing sarcasm as they walked off.
---
Scene: Downtown Coffee Bar – Noon
The shop was tucked between an art gallery and a record store. Eclectic. Cozy. Too many string lights.
They found a booth by the window. Gwen sipped her iced chai, already mid-rant.
"…and this professor just flat-out said dreams are 'symbolic vomit.' Like that's an academic term now."
Otto stirred his espresso. "Then I must be a Freudian stomach flu."
Gwen choked on her drink. "Did you just make a joke?"
"I'm capable."
"I'm documenting this."
Her phone clicked. He didn't smile, but a faint twitch of amusement crept into his eyes.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "You know, I still don't get you. You've got Stark-level tech, tactical awareness that freaks out half the school, and zero social grace. You're terrifyingly brilliant. But then you show up at my door and shake hands with my dad like you're applying for parole."
"I do not require parole," Otto said flatly.
"Right. Because you'd just redesign the prison."
Their laughter was cut short by a metallic clatter near the door.
A man in a cheap tactical vest burst in, face half-covered, pulse rifle trembling in his hands. "Nobody move!"
Otto's expression flattened.
Gwen's eyes widened. "Oh, come on—"
The man shouted, "Backs against the wall! Wallets out!"
There were four other patrons. Two ducked behind the bar. Gwen shifted slightly, fingers trembling. Otto didn't move.
His voice came out like steel. "You have three seconds to put the weapon down."
The gunman swung toward him. "You think I'm joking?"
"I think," Otto said coldly, "you've misjudged the situation."
A sharp click echoed — from beneath Otto's wrist, a portion of his bracelet unfolded. In less than a second, a single red-and-black limb burst from the suit, coiling through the air with terrifying speed.
The gun clattered to the floor. The thug was yanked upward, slammed against the ceiling, then suspended, dangling from an invisible thread.
Utter silence.
Otto stood calmly and retrieved the rifle, crushing it in one hand.
Then he turned to Gwen. "Are you injured?"
"I'm fine," she breathed. "You just webbed a man to the ceiling in a coffee shop."
He tilted his head. "He was rude."
---
Scene: Outside the Coffee Bar – Moments Later
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Otto and Gwen stood on the curb. The barista had handed them their drinks to-go, trembling with gratitude and confusion.
Gwen took a long sip of her chai.
"Okay. That was… insane. But kind of hot."
"I am not traditionally categorized by temperature."
"Stop. Just stop talking."
She looked at him for a moment. "You saved everyone in there like it was nothing."
Otto looked down at the bracelet. The limb had retracted, the white spider insignia pulsing softly.
"I don't enjoy violence," he said. "But I will not hesitate to end a threat."
"I believe that." She paused. "So who are you, really?"
Otto's eyes met hers.
"I'm someone trying to fix what the world keeps breaking."
She studied him a moment longer. "You know what the scary thing is?"
"What?"
"I think I trust you."
Scene: Gwen's Home — Early Evening
Gwen shut the door quietly behind her as she entered. Her dad was already waiting in the living room, arms folded, uniform jacket unbuttoned, badge gleaming.
"Fun date?"
She dropped her bag on the couch. "Don't start."
George raised a brow. "News is already running security cam footage. 'Spider-themed vigilante saves barista in Midtown café.'" He gave her a look. "That the same café you were in?"
Gwen hesitated. "Could be a coincidence."
He snorted. "Sweetheart, you don't take your coffee in Midtown. You get your chai from Brooklyn like a civilized person."
Gwen crossed her arms. "Okay, yes, we were there. So?"
George stood up. "So he was there. And then some mystery hero in a black-and-red suit shows up, webs a guy to the ceiling, and vanishes before we arrive. You don't think that's… odd?"
She chewed her lip. "Dad…"
"I ran his name through some databases."
Her eyes snapped to his.
"Clean background. No priors. Perfect GPA. Too perfect. Graduated college twice before he was legal to drink. No medical records. No dentist visits. It's like someone built a person on paper and dropped him into the world."
"Or," Gwen said sharply, "he's just smarter than anyone we've met."
George paused. "You like him."
"He's not what you think."
"No, Gwen. He's exactly what I think. A guy hiding something behind polished boots and surgical precision."
She took a step closer. "He's saved people. He's helping the community. He built a foundation."
George's voice softened, but his eyes didn't.
"And maybe he's also the reason you're in danger."
---
Scene: Otto's Apartment – That Night
A knock at the door.
Otto opened it slowly. Gwen stood there, hoodie on, eyes scanning the sleek minimalism of his place. Clean lines, subtle tech humming softly beneath the walls, a workbench lined with alloy fragments and microscopic arms.
She stepped in. "My dad knows. Or at least suspects."
"I'm aware."
She glanced at a small frame on the wall — a photo of Aunt May, smiling warmly, arm around Peter.
"You're not just a genius," she said. "You're… something else. Not inhuman. Just... different."
He didn't speak.
She stepped closer. "That tech in the café — no one builds that kind of thing. Not even Stark. Not unless they are the tech."
He met her gaze. "And if I were?"
"I wouldn't tell anyone."
He studied her — the pulse in her throat, the tension in her hands, the storm of thought behind her eyes.
"You're starting to see it," he said. "Aren't you?"
She didn't answer.
Not yet.
But she didn't leave.
Scene: Otto's Apartment — Late Evening
Gwen paced back and forth, the hum of Otto's lab equipment filling the space around her. The apartment was stark, designed for efficiency rather than comfort — but something about it felt safe. Safe, but alien. Unsettling.
"Otto," she finally said, her voice softer than she intended, "I need to know."
He didn't look up from his workbench, where he was carefully arranging some tools. His mechanical limbs clicked and whirred with practiced precision, as if everything in his life could be dissected, broken down, and put back together — but himself? That was the one thing he hadn't reassembled.
"I've been honest with you," he replied, not meeting her gaze.
"Honest?" She shook her head. "You've been… vague. You keep avoiding the question. You don't want me to know, but I'm not blind, Otto. I see it. I see you." She stepped forward, her voice firmer now. "Who are you really? Because I'm not some damsel in distress you're going to rescue, and I'm not stupid enough to fall for some shiny 'hero' act."
Otto put down his tools. Slowly, his eyes met hers — his red lenses flickering slightly, reflecting the cool lights of the lab.
"I'm not trying to be a hero, Gwen," he said quietly. "I'm just… doing what I think is right."
She stared at him for a long moment, watching the subtle movements of his mechanical arms, the tension in his posture, the way he seemed both larger than life and distant, removed. It was hard to reconcile the man in front of her with the figure she'd come to admire.
"Otto…" She swallowed, her throat tight. "You're not Peter, are you?"
The silence hung between them, heavy.
"No," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I'm not."
Her heart raced, but her mind was clearer than it had ever been. It all made sense now — the sharpness in his movements, the quiet confidence, the way he always seemed one step ahead. "You're Peter, but you're not. You're someone else." Her eyes searched his face for any sign of emotion. "You've become something more."
"I've become the man I was always meant to be," Otto said softly, the weight of his words sinking into the room like an anchor. "But I remember everything. Every loss. Every sacrifice. I am… I am Peter Parker, Gwen. But I am also me. I'm both."
She blinked, emotions flooding through her. She didn't know if she should be angry, relieved, or scared. But she knew one thing for sure: she had to know the truth, even if it shattered everything she thought she knew.
"Then what does that make us?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He stepped closer, slowly. "It makes us… something new."
There was a moment of quiet, and then she did something she never thought she would do — she took a deep breath and crossed the distance between them.
With a swift motion, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, sleek object — a tiny, black pendant with a white spider etched into the surface. It was a delicate, small piece of technology, seemingly inconspicuous.
"Here," she said, holding it out to him. "If you're going to protect me, you should know that I'm not helpless." She smiled faintly. "This is a tracking device. A fail-safe in case things ever get out of hand. You don't always have to save me, Otto."
He took the pendant from her, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief, but electric. And for a second, the world outside that apartment faded. It was just the two of them, standing in this strange, awkward silence.
"I don't need this," he muttered, though he kept the pendant in his hand.
"I'm not doing it for you," Gwen said, stepping closer still. "I'm doing it for me. Because I need to know I have some control. And… because I trust you, Otto."
He froze. The words cut through the air like a blade. Trust.
"You trust me?" he asked softly, his voice cracking, just for a moment.
Gwen nodded, a soft, uncertain smile on her face. "Yeah. I think I do."
There was something in his eyes — something he hadn't shown anyone in a long time. Vulnerability. Fear.
And then, as if the entire world had shifted, he closed the distance between them, pulling her into him. His lips were warm against hers, uncertain at first, like he wasn't sure if this was even allowed. But then Gwen's arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened.
It wasn't the kind of kiss that was born out of lust or urgency. It was slow, deliberate, with the kind of tenderness that Otto didn't show anyone — especially not himself. His arms held her with the kind of care he reserved for those he vowed to protect.
When they finally pulled away, the silence between them was different. There was something new there — a connection, something unspoken.
"I won't leave you, Gwen," Otto whispered, his forehead resting against hers.
She smiled softly. "I know."
(It is not much romantic but i will try my best )