A/N: Quick warning for this: there is a completely consensual relationship between a teenager and an adult. I am not writing any sexual content between them. Letting everyone know now.
I am absolutely terrible at coming up with ideas for multi-chapter fanfics. Urgh. :( So I asked Felicity Dream for a prompt, and here we go! The prompt is as follows:
"Harry sees that Norman's happier, livelier, and is especially nice (especially to him) when Peter's around, so strives to somehow make Peter part of the family permanently. Except he can't be a son, because that's Harry thing. Sooo...STEPMOM! Yeah, Harry can go with that. Now to make Peter and his dad see it his way..."
I had fun coming up with the full story, I hope everyone enjoys~
Also, Imma leave a shoutout for "Love in Hopeless Places" here too. It's written by Felicity Dream, and is set in the USM cartoon, starring an always fem!Peter and many men from the series as they deal with their hopeless attraction to her. So if you like a specific pairing between Peter/someone else, go check it out; it's probably on the roster somewhere :)
In addition to that, I'm going to leave two humorous hashtags just for fun: #kissesforfemspidey is one I came up with in regards to "Love in Hopeless Places" because I was excited about the pairings and #M2forOsborn is part of Felicity Dream's campaign for Matthew McConaughey to portray Norman Osborn (which I can get behind because he's kinda dreamy and lol the male stripper jokes XD). If anyone wants to use them on twitter feel free; I think it would be very funny to see either or both! (And I hope they're funny to others, too :D)
Disclaimer: STARFIRE67 does not hold any claims to Spider-Man or its characters and franchise. All rights belong to Sony, Stan Lee, and Marvel, the creators/distributors of said franchise.
The sun's bright rays shine through Harry Osborn's window into his lavish bedroom without mercy. Beneath the sun, the cityscape bustles with traffic and people going to work on a busy Saturday morning. Various citizens offer wares such as the oh-so valuable CD, DVD, or discount.
Harry groans and buries his face in the pillow.
Harry isn't exactly the biggest morning person. He has never risen with the sun; that's his father, Norman's thing.
But there is one thing that can get Harry moving this morning; Peter's going to stay at the Osborns' all day, and maybe even the night, if Harry convinces his best friend to. Peter can be stubborn, but Harry is too, and he more often than not gets his way. The pros of being rich.
So it is with only a little reluctance that Harry finally gets up from his very comfortable bed (didn't he already mention: wealth) to use his very nice bathroom to relieve himself, then shower. He has enough time before breakfast.
So it's just Harry's luck that he isn't actually presentable until an hour and a half later. What? His hair has needs. Needs.
Anyway, Peter was supposed to show up at the "reasonable" hour of nine o'clock and it is already nine thirty. Harry hustles out into the kitchen...
...only to find his father and Peter chatting warmly at the table, sitting across from each other.
Huh. Well that's new.
Norman Osborn is a busy man, something anyone can tell just from the sheer size of his company. Between board meetings and projects to oversee and consider, and his own scientific interests, to think Norman Osborn has an easy life is silly. But the man enjoys his work, the benefits of it. Harry jokes with Peter sometimes that if Norman could marry his work, he would in a heartbeat. It's probably true.
So seeing his father sitting very calmly and speaking with Peter like it's an everyday occurrence is strange, when normally the older Osborn is lost in his work is strange. Shocking. Unbelievable.
And yet.
So Harry sits down next to Peter. "Hey," Peter says, smiling at his rich friend.
Harry grins easily back, as if he always eats breakfast with other people (he doesn't). "Morning."
Norman smiles—smiles—at Harry. "How did you sleep, son?"
Okay, this is really getting weird. "Uhh, fine, I guess?" Harry says, piling food onto his plate as he eyes his father, brow raised.
Peter's foot nudges Harry's under the table, and if they were alone, Harry would've joked, "That's really not how you play footsie, Pete." But as it is, he doesn't really want to make jokes about relationships with his best friend in front of his father, so he only glances at Peter as if to ask, "What was that for?"
Peter looks like he mentally sighs before saying, "What about you, Mr. Osborn?"
Ohhh.
"I was perfectly fine, Peter, thank you. And please," Norman practically purrs, and boy does that really pique Harry's interest, "call me Norman. You're practically family."
I bet you want him to be, Harry thinks, smirking in his mind. Because Harry thinks he's noticing something.
Peter blushes, just a light pink but it's there, in response, but replies, "Okay."
Harry suddenly wishes he could read minds, like one of the mutant X-Men. Then he could know for sure if his theory is playing out. Sadly, Harry is just a sixteen-year-old high-schooler, and is not a superhero, so he'll just have to rely on good old instincts and observation. How novel and quaint.
"What will you boys be doing today?" Norman asks, because Peter's presence has given Norman reason to be invested in Peter, Harry's sure of it now.
"Well, I was planning on hanging out with Pete here today. Play video games, watch TV-"
"Finish our homework," Peter interrupts, the spoilsport.
"Awww come on," Harry moans, partly to actually get out of homework because it's Saturday and partly to inspire a smirk on his father's face—and there it is.
"Harry, it's better to have your work done early," Norman reminds, smirk not as condescending as it might normally be. "And isn't it nice to finish your work with friends?"
Ohh yeah. Peter's a good influence on his dad, Harry knows it. This is the most attention he's gotten from Norman in the last few weeks, surpassing the couple of passing conversations his dad graced him with some mornings and afternoons. Harry would not mind if Norman were like this permanently.
And suddenly it hits Harry like a brick. The heavens opened and are singing the solution. A truck rams right into Harry.
"I have to get to work boys," Norman says (regretfully?) standing and adjusting his tie and suit jacket. Peter, almost (almost, but Harry's looking for emotion, so of course he catches it) unnoticeably turns sad, like he wishes Harry's father could stay longer. It only further cements the idea that struck Harry is a good one.
"Have a good day, Mr. Osborn," Peter says, polite as ever. Norman gives the boys one last warm smile, and then he's off.
Harry eyes the bag on the floor by Peter's feet, and says, "You head into the living room. I'll go get my homework and we'll try to finish it before lunch, okay?"
Peter grins and nods, both their breakfasts long finished. Harry didn't even notice he was eating, focusing on his father and best friend. He must have just gone on autopilot.
So Harry returns to his room and finds his binders and papers and books he'll need, but that's not the only reason he's here. Harry turns to the bookshelves against the wall opposite his bed, where his dirty little secret sits pleasantly, as if it wouldn't make him (more of) a high-school pariah instantly if it got out.
Back in middle school Harry went to the library one lonely afternoon, feeling upset and not wanting to watch other kids in the lunchroom sitting together and talking loudly and happily when he was alone in the corner, picking at cafeteria food because no one liked the "jerk rich kid". He'd wanted a good book to read and a nice quiet place to read it. It was then that he'd been given the book, recommended by the kind librarian. Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
He's been hooked ever since. Romance novels call to him at every Barnes & Noble he ever goes to. Many are trashy, or stupid, or downright unbelievable—no actual pirate would give up his seafaring life for a girl, and the government wouldn't actually stop pursuing him because he fell in love or whatever either, honestly—but some are still decent or even good. Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë are lovely reads, had essentially been the first romance tropes. Beauty and the Beast is another favorite, but not because of the pretty movie.
Harry doesn't even trust Peter enough with this secret love of romance. Pete's a good guy and all, but he's still a guy, and Harry doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of a friend (especially a male one).
(Although if Harry's being honest, Peter's a much better person than that. Harry's just paranoid, is all, sadly.)
Slender fingers slide over the spines, crammed tightly next to each other on the middle two shelves (prime reaching height, like the nonfiction books at the very top and the children's books at the very bottom) to have as many books as possible there. The leather or hardcovers look well-used, having been opened time and time again.
Sadly, he can't open them just yet. Harry has a friend waiting downstairs he needs to study with, but later...
Harry slips his cell phone into his pocket and picks up the homework and heads downstairs. They'll study, and with Peter's assistance he'll probably finish by lunch, which will give them plenty of hang out time. Harry expects Peter will need to head out later in the afternoon, as he often seems to have errands or things going on, but that's okay. Harry will wheedle and whine and Peter will have a sleepover. It's their routine.
The difference, though, will be dinner. Maybe he can invite Peter over for dinner, before their sleepover. A lovely dinner for three...well, two.
Peter's breath is heavy and quick over the phone. "Hey, Har."
"You run a marathon, Pete?"
"Nah," Peter says, already starting to sound a little calmer. "I just had to hurry home, it's raining."
Harry glances out; a heavy shower just started. "I see."
There's a beat of silence, then: "Anyway, what's up Harry? I'm already sleeping over, I promised."
"I know, I know," Harry replies. "I just thought about dinner. I don't expect Dad until later and I didn't know when you would get here, so I figured-"
"-You would invite me to dinner?"
Harry's chuckle is probably a yes.
"Alright. What time?"
"Seven." It's currently six.
"Seven. Okay! See you then Harry."
"See you then." Harry smirks.
Peter's habits are...interesting. When Peter sets a time he shows up, often half-an-hour or more late. It was normally exasperating but humorous, and today it was perfect for what Harry needed.
Dad was supposed to be finished with work at seven, but Harry knew it meant he'd be back at seven-thirty. Which meant he and Peter would arrive at the same time. How convenient.
The dinner may have cost several hundred dollars overall. What? He needed romantic but subtle, so neither would notice anything was up. White tablecloth, red candles with cute blue wicks, green-rimmed plates, and a lovely chicken and scalloped potato dinner. There was wine too, actually, which was probably most expensive, because he'd needed to convince the seller to give it to a minor, but it was worth it.
Harry sets the rolls down in the middle between the two plates, candles on either side and flowers next to them. He straightens out the the napkins and silverware. Fiddles with the tablecloth. Adjusts the plates. Rinse and repeat.
Finally, finally, it's seven-thirty, and right on the dot (just as Harry planned and expected) the elevator chimes open as people cross the living room into the dining room. Two quiet voices filter to Harry's hiding spot in the adjacent kitchen.
"Huh?" That must be Peter. "Where's Harry?"
"He ran off to do errands?" Norman says, curious. "I do hope he's alright..."
Aww, Dad does care. At least when Peter is there, anyway, but it's still nice. He noticed the letter Harry left anyway, so that's nice.
"I thought...well, it was nice to leave us dinner," Peter says, and Harry is internally grateful Peter's just a tad too kind/naïve/forgiving for his own good. Harry doesn't exactly have a plan yet to explain why he invited Peter over and then conveniently wasn't there. Hopefully Norman will turn up the charm and woo Peter into forgetting.
Harry sits back, patient and ready. All he has to do right now is play the waiting game. Easy.
Peter and Norman sit down at the dining table, across from one another the way Harry must have set it up. Norman's lit the candles and started putting food on Peter's plate for him, like a-a gentleman, or something. Peter's a bit flustered.
"Thank you again, for letting me, uh, stay, Mr. Osborn."
"What's there to thank, Peter?" Norman asks honestly, slyly offering wine to the underaged male. Peter nearly refuses, but then thinks, Why not? and accepts, because he does trust Mr. Osborn. "And what did I tell you earlier? You're practically family, Peter. You're welcome here any time. And please call—"
"Right. Norman," Peter corrects himself, cheeks flushing in spite of themselves. He's not quite sure why.
Dinner is a quiet but very pleasant affair. Mr. Osborn (Norman) is the perfect gentleman, and Peter is comfortable. Norman's usually aloof, cunning, planning—cold comes to mind. But now (and, it seems, but maybe Peter's imagining it, more often) Norman is warmer around him. And Harry. Peter knows Harry and Norman have had a rocky relationship for a large portion of their lives. The death of Harry's mother hurt them both, he knows.
There are several minutes of quiet before Peter gets up the courage to speak about it. "Norman, about Harry and—Harry's mother—do you—?"
"Do I still miss Emily?" Norman finishes. Peter nods, embarrassed and shy. Norman's eyes look thoughtful, considering. "I grieved for her for a long time, probably longer than anyone thinks. But I don't think I miss her, not the way I did when she first died."
Peter nods again. Norman frowns. "Was that—insensitive, Peter?"
Peter's a bit surprised at this side of Norman, one which the younger thinks he's never seen before. He vaguely wonders if anyone has. "No, no, Mist-Norman. She died a long time ago. I shouldn't have asked." Peter tilts his head away, embarrassed again.
"No," Norman says, reaching out and grabbing Peter's free hand in reassurance. "It's kind of you to ask, Peter. That you care."
They sit like that for a minute, absorbing the silence and allowing themselves to process this before they realize, technically, they're holding hands. The effect is immediate; Norman lets go of Peter like he's been scalded and Peter blushes. They go back to smaller talk (school, work, Peter's friends and helping Harry in his classes) but the atmosphere is...different, almost warmer in a way. Peter doesn't know the words to describe it, except that it's wonderful. Eventually they finish eating and Harry finally returns just after they finish dinner and are removing their plates.
"Sorry I left before you guys got here," Harry says, almost embarrassed. "How was dinner?"
"Lovely," Norman replies, and clasps Harry's shoulder warmly. He smiles. "Thank you, son."
Peter beams at the sweet scene between father and son, and Harry grins in kind at his dad.
"Well, boys, I would love to sit with you, but I have papers I need to finish up with in my office. Don't stay up too late, alright?"
"Okay, Dad," Harry says, already tugging Peter into the living room. Peter stops, because he does need to say something to Norman.
"Norman?" he says, and the businessman turns back immediately. It makes Peter shy and flustered, having the man's full attention, and he doesn't know why. "Thank you, again. It-it was nice, and I had fun."
The elder man smiles warmly and nods a tiny bit, then heads upstairs. Peter's embarrassed to admit it, but he turns pink at the smile and his heart beats a teeny tiny bit faster. He quickly follows Harry.
Oh yeah. Harry's going to get a new stepmother.
...
Er. Father. Right. Stepfather.
A/N: ooooh this was hard to write DX I suck at beginnings of stories, and it probably seems slow, but don't worry! It'll get more exciting and interesting later guys, I swear. Honestly, I was really hoping I would finish this earlier, but I went on vacation and then I got a bit sick :( So sadly this has come out later than I wanted. But at least it came out? Anyway, have fun everyone! I hope you enjoyed!
Until next time!
~STARFIRE67