Title: The Swings in Central Park
Author: Normandie M
E-Mail: filia_85@yahoo.com.au
Rating: G, probably. Nothing majorly bad-ass in this fic. Sorry for those who were hoping so.
Summary: A young Norman and Emily conversing on a walk through Central Park in the late evening.
Disclaimer: Norman Osborn sadly doesn't belong to me (unless you count my action figure). He belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee. Ditto for Emily Osborn.
A/N: I wanted to write a romantic!Norman fic......and this is what came out of it. I didn't really intend for it to be angsty either, actually....but there you go. Hope you like it.
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"Emily? Emily!"
He looked around the darkened Central Park, searching for a familiar face.
"Norman! Over this way!"
Twenty-six year old Norman Osborn spun around, ice blue eyes wandering through the dimness, squinting slightly. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand clapped on his shoulder. A familiar, welcoming touch. Norman slowly turned his head to face his girlfriend of four years, Emily, a smile affixed upon her pretty features.
"Emily," he sighed, grabbing the hand and holding it to him, relieved to have her in sight. Her musical laughter echoed through his ears.
"Norman.....did you think I'd gone missing or something?" she asked softly, as they began to wander through the park together again.
"If I lost sight of you for mere seconds, Emily m'dear, I would think myself a fool." he replied, kissing the hand he held, contentedly listening to the soft chuckles coming from her mouth at his theatrics.
"Oh, Norman look," said Emily, gesturing ahead of them, to where a small playground was.
"mmm? It's a playground for children. What about it?"
"Oh, c'mon!" she said, and began to drag him towards it, despite his uttered protests.
"Emily, I'd hate to think what the casual observer would think...." he said as she glided with unfailing elegance towards a set of swings and sat herself on one.
Ignoring this, she crossed her arms and with a Holly Golightly-like, Audrey Hepburn-ish impression that would knock the woman herself over, demanded that he push her. Norman, never being able to resist those eyes, slowly crossed the gravelly sand of the playground and began to comply.
There was a lengthy silence, broken at intervals by the creaking of the swing chains, before Emily opened her mouth to speak.
"Norman......do you still want to marry me?"
He smiled to himself, before answering "Yes......you know I do. Why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to hear you say it." she replied casually, kicking her legs in the air so she would go higher.
Norman frowned a little, and finally asked "Is something wrong?"
Emily shook her head, her short hair bouncing a little. "No.....it's just that you seemed a little....well, quiet this evening when we were at your Mother's."
He sighed, shaking his head a little. "I worry, Emily....I worry about my Fa-"
"Your Father? What's he got to do with this? He's been dead for two years now, Norman." there was an underlying frustration in her voice, masked by softness.
And good riddance to him too, Norman thought, before answering. "It's not that....." there was a brief pause before he murmured "I worry about becoming the same man as him."
And at that moment, much to his surprise, Emily slipped gracefully from the swing, steadying it with her hands.
"Sit." she said simply, gesturing to the swing. Norman regarded her silently for a moment before sinking onto it, swaying slowly on it. He felt a pair of hands link with his, and lips grazing his ear.
"You are not your Father, Norman Osborn." he heard her whisper into his ear and he couldn't help but relax a little. "You are everything he wasn't. And I'm sure that when the time comes for us, you'll be a loving Father to our child."
Then, to his further surprise, he felt a pair of hands push him forward, back and forth. As he began to swing, he felt the words pouring out of his mouth like fine wine out of a bottle.
"I can feel his blood in my veins, Emily. I still see him sneering at me, pointing the finger at me, berating me." he rambled, finding the strength to go on as he swung higher and higher. "and.....I see myself doing the same thing." his voice dropped to a whisper, out of his fiancee's earshot. "I don't want to be my Father, Emily. For your sake. For the sake of the child we'll have......for everybody's damned sake."
And then, in a rare moment of abandon, he tilted his body back, watching the world swing back and forth, from the grassy, sandy playground to the inky black velvet of the night, studded with stars that glittered like diamonds. Emily, however had disappeared from his view, and he jerked back up, only to find her on the other swing, sailing with inherent grace.
"Emily....." he sighed, looking over to her.
"Yes?" her voice, sounding lighter than that of a bird's.
"Why did you choose me over all those others?"
There was a silence, before she replied. "You need me, Norman, as much as I need you. I will love and support you, as you've loved and supported me. No one else is going to do that for me in the same way you do....."
Norman almost shook his head at her words. What did I do to deserve such perfection? he wondered silently, as she continued to swing, back and forth.....back and forth. He didn't really want to think about it then though, and, forgetting his worries and reservations, continued to swing, amazing himself by thinking that he'd never felt so content before.
Of course, happiness is too often a fleeting thing......
Author: Normandie M
E-Mail: filia_85@yahoo.com.au
Rating: G, probably. Nothing majorly bad-ass in this fic. Sorry for those who were hoping so.
Summary: A young Norman and Emily conversing on a walk through Central Park in the late evening.
Disclaimer: Norman Osborn sadly doesn't belong to me (unless you count my action figure). He belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee. Ditto for Emily Osborn.
A/N: I wanted to write a romantic!Norman fic......and this is what came out of it. I didn't really intend for it to be angsty either, actually....but there you go. Hope you like it.
******************************************************************************
"Emily? Emily!"
He looked around the darkened Central Park, searching for a familiar face.
"Norman! Over this way!"
Twenty-six year old Norman Osborn spun around, ice blue eyes wandering through the dimness, squinting slightly. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand clapped on his shoulder. A familiar, welcoming touch. Norman slowly turned his head to face his girlfriend of four years, Emily, a smile affixed upon her pretty features.
"Emily," he sighed, grabbing the hand and holding it to him, relieved to have her in sight. Her musical laughter echoed through his ears.
"Norman.....did you think I'd gone missing or something?" she asked softly, as they began to wander through the park together again.
"If I lost sight of you for mere seconds, Emily m'dear, I would think myself a fool." he replied, kissing the hand he held, contentedly listening to the soft chuckles coming from her mouth at his theatrics.
"Oh, Norman look," said Emily, gesturing ahead of them, to where a small playground was.
"mmm? It's a playground for children. What about it?"
"Oh, c'mon!" she said, and began to drag him towards it, despite his uttered protests.
"Emily, I'd hate to think what the casual observer would think...." he said as she glided with unfailing elegance towards a set of swings and sat herself on one.
Ignoring this, she crossed her arms and with a Holly Golightly-like, Audrey Hepburn-ish impression that would knock the woman herself over, demanded that he push her. Norman, never being able to resist those eyes, slowly crossed the gravelly sand of the playground and began to comply.
There was a lengthy silence, broken at intervals by the creaking of the swing chains, before Emily opened her mouth to speak.
"Norman......do you still want to marry me?"
He smiled to himself, before answering "Yes......you know I do. Why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to hear you say it." she replied casually, kicking her legs in the air so she would go higher.
Norman frowned a little, and finally asked "Is something wrong?"
Emily shook her head, her short hair bouncing a little. "No.....it's just that you seemed a little....well, quiet this evening when we were at your Mother's."
He sighed, shaking his head a little. "I worry, Emily....I worry about my Fa-"
"Your Father? What's he got to do with this? He's been dead for two years now, Norman." there was an underlying frustration in her voice, masked by softness.
And good riddance to him too, Norman thought, before answering. "It's not that....." there was a brief pause before he murmured "I worry about becoming the same man as him."
And at that moment, much to his surprise, Emily slipped gracefully from the swing, steadying it with her hands.
"Sit." she said simply, gesturing to the swing. Norman regarded her silently for a moment before sinking onto it, swaying slowly on it. He felt a pair of hands link with his, and lips grazing his ear.
"You are not your Father, Norman Osborn." he heard her whisper into his ear and he couldn't help but relax a little. "You are everything he wasn't. And I'm sure that when the time comes for us, you'll be a loving Father to our child."
Then, to his further surprise, he felt a pair of hands push him forward, back and forth. As he began to swing, he felt the words pouring out of his mouth like fine wine out of a bottle.
"I can feel his blood in my veins, Emily. I still see him sneering at me, pointing the finger at me, berating me." he rambled, finding the strength to go on as he swung higher and higher. "and.....I see myself doing the same thing." his voice dropped to a whisper, out of his fiancee's earshot. "I don't want to be my Father, Emily. For your sake. For the sake of the child we'll have......for everybody's damned sake."
And then, in a rare moment of abandon, he tilted his body back, watching the world swing back and forth, from the grassy, sandy playground to the inky black velvet of the night, studded with stars that glittered like diamonds. Emily, however had disappeared from his view, and he jerked back up, only to find her on the other swing, sailing with inherent grace.
"Emily....." he sighed, looking over to her.
"Yes?" her voice, sounding lighter than that of a bird's.
"Why did you choose me over all those others?"
There was a silence, before she replied. "You need me, Norman, as much as I need you. I will love and support you, as you've loved and supported me. No one else is going to do that for me in the same way you do....."
Norman almost shook his head at her words. What did I do to deserve such perfection? he wondered silently, as she continued to swing, back and forth.....back and forth. He didn't really want to think about it then though, and, forgetting his worries and reservations, continued to swing, amazing himself by thinking that he'd never felt so content before.
Of course, happiness is too often a fleeting thing......