Author's Note: A quick little fic I wrote with Death's Angel in an attempt to cure both our boredom. It didn't turn out too bad, though it was a little weird only writing for Norman, when I'm used to doing Norman -and- Harry. Ah well. ^_^ Read, enjoy, and review. Review I tell you! ::cracks the whip she stole from Death's Angel::
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Norman Osborn sat in the small, niche of a room he had chosen as the home version of his office tapping an immaculate white letter on the expensive wood of his desk. And with every hit of paper on wood, the disappointment on auburn-haired businessman's face took another step in the direction of fury. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so angry if he hadn't seen at least a dozen of these letters before, but now it was getting out of hand. His son, Harry, had been expelled from the latest private school he had sent him to, and this was the final straw. This was the final letter informing him that his son had been kicked out he was going to get. And his son was going to hear about it the moment he walked in the door.
Narrowing his winter-gray gaze on the room's closed doors, he waited for Harry to come bursting in with some excuse or another, tapping the letter in aggravation all the while.
The door finally, slowly slid open, and the young man in question stepped in. He had been preparing himself to hear it all out. He wasn't going to bother trying to excuse himself this time. That didn't work. The first few tries at that had proved that as a fact.
"Hey, dad," was all he said and he braced himself for a barrage of taunts, barbs and all other words his father could throw at him.
The sound of paper striking the dark wood of Norman's desk stopped abruptly, as the elder Osborn focused his far from forgiving eyes on his son. Arching a rusty eyebrow, he set the letter aside and leaned back in his desk chair thoughtfully. No excuses? No half-hearted attempts at explaining his latest failure? True, it wasn't was he had been expecting, but it didn't stop him from being furious at his son. This was the future head of his company, and his son needed to learn discipline if he was going to run Oscorp.
"Harry..." he started, his voice nothing more than a disapproving whisper, as if prompting his son of some kind of excuse.
The blue-eyed youth looked down, but remained silent, trying not to let his fear of his father get the better of him. If he was quiet, maybe it would all be over faster.
His father wasn't about to let him get away with that, however. Reaching once more for the letter, Norman held it between his index and forefinger, lifting it so that it rested in the air just below his eyes. For a moment, there was silence between the young man and his father, and then slowly, Norman's scowl deepened.
"Can you tell me what this is?"
"A letter from the school." Harry's voice was soft, full of shame, but he didn't look up.
"Care to explain?"
* Not really... * But Harry knew better than to say that. Instead, he replied quietly, "Expelled..."
The letter flew quickly back to Norman's desk as his hand hit the desk in fury. He was aware that his son had been expelled again - that hadn't been the explanation he was looking for. Instead, the elder Osborn simply wanted to know what his son had done to warrant his expulsion. And although he had a pretty good idea what Harry had - or in this case, hadn't - been doing, he wanted to hear it from his son's own lips. That way, he could place blame.
"What was it this time, Harry?" he demanded, standing so he could offer his son a heated glare. "A fight? Or have you been failing classes again?"
Harry winced almost on cue, and kept his eyes down. Still speaking softly, though this time with a touch of fear in his voice, he said, "I..." Part of him wanted to say it had been a fight, but the letter gave a report of his latest grades, he knew it would, so instead he told the truth, and mumbled out, "I was failing classes again."
Norman sighed in exasperation. "Are you even trying?"
* More than you know. * Harry didn't voice that thought however, and remained silent, still looking down.
"Well?" his father pressed.
This was stupid. They had been through this argument a thousand times and each time it had ended like this - Harry falling into a pit of silence and Norman telling him to get his act together. But it was getting old. He was tired of the same old case of muteness his son developed whenever they talked about school - especially when the elder Osborn knew his son was capable of so much more. Sure, Harry wasn't a genius like some of the men of Oscorp's staff, but that didn't mean he should have been failing. Hell, at this point in time, Norman would have been happy with C's. Harry was capable of so much more than a mark that labeled him as simply 'average', and in his eyes, Harry's far from stellar marks meant that meant that his son didn't care enough to try.
The brown haired young man finally looked up, and he knew exactly what he needed to say. But the words just wouldn't come. "I'm..." He hesitated.
"What Harry?" Now they were getting somewhere.
Harry resisted the urge to bite his lip, out of fear that it might be another reason for his father to vocalize his opinions even louder. So, softly, he looked down and mumbled out, "It's my fault, I know..."
Norman simply nodded coolly at this admission.
"It's my fault I'm not as smart as you," the young man finished. It took him approximately two seconds to realize he had said this out loud. Where the nerve to say this had come from he wasn't sure. And now he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. The same feeling that he'd had when he had been expelled the first time for fighting on school grounds. Too late to stop now however, so instead he followed up with, "I mean, it's not like you could have helped it anyway, is it? Otherwise you would have already used that precious science of yours to fix the problem."
"You are smart, Harry," Norman growled back, half shocked that his son had found the nerve to stand up to him. "You just don't apply yourself - maybe if you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Yeah? Well maybe if you'd have just left me alone in the first place, not always pushed me to be something I'm not... we more than likely wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I'm not pushing you to be anything. I just want to see you succeed in life." Eyes burning with unbridled anger, the elder Osborn added, "And at the rate you're going, that's never going to happen," before he realized what he was saying.
"I'd do fine if you wouldn't try to make me into you! Face it! I'm a failure. Another of your little experiments gone wrong! Only, I'm the lasting one, aren't I? You can't just throw me away like all those trays and start over. You're stuck with the results."
Something rushed through the blue-eyed youth's veins, causing him to spit out all the things he'd thought through every one of his father's 'talks', and he knew, somewhere inside of him, that he was going to regret it. But that didn't matter, not now. The man he called 'father' had always told him to never back down from a challenge. And this was one hell of a challenge.
Silence followed Harry's words as Norman felt the sting of his relatively happy little world being shattered. He never thought his son felt like that about their relationship - he always thought his son knew he cared. But apparently he had been wrong, and the realization hurt. Falling backwards in slow motion into his seat, it was Norman who couldn't meet the other's eyes this time.
"Get out."
Harry hesitated, having a lot more to say to him, but he kept his tongue in check; he knew that when his father couldn't look at him, he had done more than he set out to. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Growling softly under his breath, he stopped on the other side of it and leaned against it heavily, suddenly feeling older... as though he were weighed down with more. He looked at his hand, surprised to find it shaking.
He was supposed to feel better, right? Now that he'd gotten all of that off his chest... but he felt... sort of hollow... like he wasn't there anymore. Another sickening waves crashed in his stomach, and he wondered if he was going to be sick. Then it was gone, although a guilt-filled cloud hung over his head. "I'm such an idiot," he muttered. * He didn't deserve that, did he? *
Sighing as he heard the door slam behind his son, Norman shook his head. He didn't think that Harry was a failed experiment. Not at all. He just wanted to see something great come out of his son. And that, in his own mind, justified the verbal beating he had both given and received.
But through it all, a small voice in the back of the elder Osborn's head couldn't help but ask, * He didn't deserve that, did he? *
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Norman Osborn sat in the small, niche of a room he had chosen as the home version of his office tapping an immaculate white letter on the expensive wood of his desk. And with every hit of paper on wood, the disappointment on auburn-haired businessman's face took another step in the direction of fury. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so angry if he hadn't seen at least a dozen of these letters before, but now it was getting out of hand. His son, Harry, had been expelled from the latest private school he had sent him to, and this was the final straw. This was the final letter informing him that his son had been kicked out he was going to get. And his son was going to hear about it the moment he walked in the door.
Narrowing his winter-gray gaze on the room's closed doors, he waited for Harry to come bursting in with some excuse or another, tapping the letter in aggravation all the while.
The door finally, slowly slid open, and the young man in question stepped in. He had been preparing himself to hear it all out. He wasn't going to bother trying to excuse himself this time. That didn't work. The first few tries at that had proved that as a fact.
"Hey, dad," was all he said and he braced himself for a barrage of taunts, barbs and all other words his father could throw at him.
The sound of paper striking the dark wood of Norman's desk stopped abruptly, as the elder Osborn focused his far from forgiving eyes on his son. Arching a rusty eyebrow, he set the letter aside and leaned back in his desk chair thoughtfully. No excuses? No half-hearted attempts at explaining his latest failure? True, it wasn't was he had been expecting, but it didn't stop him from being furious at his son. This was the future head of his company, and his son needed to learn discipline if he was going to run Oscorp.
"Harry..." he started, his voice nothing more than a disapproving whisper, as if prompting his son of some kind of excuse.
The blue-eyed youth looked down, but remained silent, trying not to let his fear of his father get the better of him. If he was quiet, maybe it would all be over faster.
His father wasn't about to let him get away with that, however. Reaching once more for the letter, Norman held it between his index and forefinger, lifting it so that it rested in the air just below his eyes. For a moment, there was silence between the young man and his father, and then slowly, Norman's scowl deepened.
"Can you tell me what this is?"
"A letter from the school." Harry's voice was soft, full of shame, but he didn't look up.
"Care to explain?"
* Not really... * But Harry knew better than to say that. Instead, he replied quietly, "Expelled..."
The letter flew quickly back to Norman's desk as his hand hit the desk in fury. He was aware that his son had been expelled again - that hadn't been the explanation he was looking for. Instead, the elder Osborn simply wanted to know what his son had done to warrant his expulsion. And although he had a pretty good idea what Harry had - or in this case, hadn't - been doing, he wanted to hear it from his son's own lips. That way, he could place blame.
"What was it this time, Harry?" he demanded, standing so he could offer his son a heated glare. "A fight? Or have you been failing classes again?"
Harry winced almost on cue, and kept his eyes down. Still speaking softly, though this time with a touch of fear in his voice, he said, "I..." Part of him wanted to say it had been a fight, but the letter gave a report of his latest grades, he knew it would, so instead he told the truth, and mumbled out, "I was failing classes again."
Norman sighed in exasperation. "Are you even trying?"
* More than you know. * Harry didn't voice that thought however, and remained silent, still looking down.
"Well?" his father pressed.
This was stupid. They had been through this argument a thousand times and each time it had ended like this - Harry falling into a pit of silence and Norman telling him to get his act together. But it was getting old. He was tired of the same old case of muteness his son developed whenever they talked about school - especially when the elder Osborn knew his son was capable of so much more. Sure, Harry wasn't a genius like some of the men of Oscorp's staff, but that didn't mean he should have been failing. Hell, at this point in time, Norman would have been happy with C's. Harry was capable of so much more than a mark that labeled him as simply 'average', and in his eyes, Harry's far from stellar marks meant that meant that his son didn't care enough to try.
The brown haired young man finally looked up, and he knew exactly what he needed to say. But the words just wouldn't come. "I'm..." He hesitated.
"What Harry?" Now they were getting somewhere.
Harry resisted the urge to bite his lip, out of fear that it might be another reason for his father to vocalize his opinions even louder. So, softly, he looked down and mumbled out, "It's my fault, I know..."
Norman simply nodded coolly at this admission.
"It's my fault I'm not as smart as you," the young man finished. It took him approximately two seconds to realize he had said this out loud. Where the nerve to say this had come from he wasn't sure. And now he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. The same feeling that he'd had when he had been expelled the first time for fighting on school grounds. Too late to stop now however, so instead he followed up with, "I mean, it's not like you could have helped it anyway, is it? Otherwise you would have already used that precious science of yours to fix the problem."
"You are smart, Harry," Norman growled back, half shocked that his son had found the nerve to stand up to him. "You just don't apply yourself - maybe if you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Yeah? Well maybe if you'd have just left me alone in the first place, not always pushed me to be something I'm not... we more than likely wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I'm not pushing you to be anything. I just want to see you succeed in life." Eyes burning with unbridled anger, the elder Osborn added, "And at the rate you're going, that's never going to happen," before he realized what he was saying.
"I'd do fine if you wouldn't try to make me into you! Face it! I'm a failure. Another of your little experiments gone wrong! Only, I'm the lasting one, aren't I? You can't just throw me away like all those trays and start over. You're stuck with the results."
Something rushed through the blue-eyed youth's veins, causing him to spit out all the things he'd thought through every one of his father's 'talks', and he knew, somewhere inside of him, that he was going to regret it. But that didn't matter, not now. The man he called 'father' had always told him to never back down from a challenge. And this was one hell of a challenge.
Silence followed Harry's words as Norman felt the sting of his relatively happy little world being shattered. He never thought his son felt like that about their relationship - he always thought his son knew he cared. But apparently he had been wrong, and the realization hurt. Falling backwards in slow motion into his seat, it was Norman who couldn't meet the other's eyes this time.
"Get out."
Harry hesitated, having a lot more to say to him, but he kept his tongue in check; he knew that when his father couldn't look at him, he had done more than he set out to. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Growling softly under his breath, he stopped on the other side of it and leaned against it heavily, suddenly feeling older... as though he were weighed down with more. He looked at his hand, surprised to find it shaking.
He was supposed to feel better, right? Now that he'd gotten all of that off his chest... but he felt... sort of hollow... like he wasn't there anymore. Another sickening waves crashed in his stomach, and he wondered if he was going to be sick. Then it was gone, although a guilt-filled cloud hung over his head. "I'm such an idiot," he muttered. * He didn't deserve that, did he? *
Sighing as he heard the door slam behind his son, Norman shook his head. He didn't think that Harry was a failed experiment. Not at all. He just wanted to see something great come out of his son. And that, in his own mind, justified the verbal beating he had both given and received.
But through it all, a small voice in the back of the elder Osborn's head couldn't help but ask, * He didn't deserve that, did he? *