AN: This work features both TASM2 and USM characters. Set after everyone graduates + are at university/college/etc.
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Chapter 1: First Meeting
In retrospect, balancing an umbrella on your shoulder whilst crouching on a roof in torrential rain was not one of Harold Theopolis Osborn's finest moments. Especially not whilst trying to take pictures of some second-rate excuse for a superhero. In fact, Harry was pretty sure that all the guy did was save cats from trees, or help the occasional senior citizen looking to cross the street.
So, definitely not the kind of hero you'd risk your life to take pictures of. The dude wore latex, for crissakes! At least cool heroes like Captain America had padded armour and a hefty arsenal. Now that kind of get-up was actually intimidating!
…but Mary-Jane had called in a favour. One that Harry should have made good on a long time ago. So, he figures his choice in the matter is hardly relevant at this point.
A shiver wracks through him. The air is frigid at this time of year, coating everything it touches with frost. The rain has begun to pool around his feet on the cobbled roof-top, soaking through his boots. Despite being wrapped in layers, his limbs feel icy stiff. The cold stem of the umbrella sticks to his cheek painfully, as it wobbles on his shoulder. At this point, it's more likely his fingers will snap off than catching sight of Spider-Man and taking a picture of him.
Harry steels himself.
This wasn't for him. He had to do this for Mary-Jane. Her blog was in danger, after all. With a particularly hefty paper due, she couldn't stalk Spider-Man like she usually did. Luckily, with no impending assignments due himself, Harry is free.
Though he just can't quite believe that out of all the heroes Mary-Jane wanted to focus her blog on, she would choose Spider-Man. The dude was lame. No doubt about it.
Harry just doesn't understand the hype.
Hell, even the great Norman Osborn was obsessed. He had taken to wandering around the penthouse, muttering underneath his breath about 'spidermen' and their 'DNA'. Creepy, to be perfectly honest. That was nothing new though.
But what was so great about some gangly daredevil who liked saving cats anyway?
Suddenly, over the pour of the rain, Harry barely manages to register the sound of hurried footfalls. Maybe it was Spider-Man! Hope rising in his chest, he looks up, only to see a stranger running straight at him.
Fear shoots through him and Harry suddenly wishes he hadn't dismissed his bodyguard earlier in the evening. By now Lewis was likely at home with his family, and undoubtedly too far away to be of any help.
Harry backs up with a yelp, arms thrown out to distance himself from the crazed man.
It's too late, however, as the thug barrels past him, shoving him harshly. The wind is knocked out of him as a throbbing ache erupts in his chest. Uncontrollably, he feels himself falling backwards from the force of the blow as his booted heel catches on the ice. The world turns harshly as Harry slips backwards. Gravity works its harsh magic as Harry's heel catches on the brickwork and he topples off of the ledge.
Down, down he goes.
The wind whistles around him as the ground, many stories below, rushes to greet him. Harry's screams are lodged firmly in his throat as the rushing air forcefully chokes his lungs. It is deafening; the roaring wind, the rush of adrenaline, the sound of his clothes rustling like a tree caught in a storm. His limbs flail around him helplessly as he spins through the air, perhaps trying even in these hopeless moments to catch onto something or someone.
How very lame.
Harry Osborn, pushed off of a roof. Dead at the tender age of nineteen. The tabloids would certainly lap it up eagerly enough. Norman would be disappointed, no doubt. No, not that Harry was dead, but that he had died so pathetically. Tarnishing the Osborn name, yet again. Classic Harry.
Suddenly he is lurching to the side, as a strong arm winds around his belly and lifts him upwards. The ground rapidly shrinks and he groans in pain as he is pulled upwards, soaring through the air, held tightly in the arms of his saviour.
They land on another building,
Harry collapses into the man, clutching at his chest frantically, murmuring wildly. The world seems to sway around him uneasily. He shuts his eyes to block it all out. God, he needed a stiff drink or something.
"Hey, hey! You okay, man?"
Harry shakes his head -no, of course not, he'd nearly died - pressing his forehead against the man's shoulder. He is still hyperventilating.
"Don't worry! I caught you, you're fine!"
The hilariously gruff put-on voice of the man is what finally snaps him out of his reverie. It is as if the man is disguising his voice, but straining with the effort at every word. As if he were trying to appear bigger, or tougher. Like a very bad imitation of Nolan's Batman. Pffffttttttttttttttt.
With that funny thought in his brain, Harry finally brings himself to look at his saviour.
Typical.
Osborn-luck – or rather Harry Osborn's luck. Getting saved by the one hero he did not think much of. Utterly embarrassing.
Yikes, he'd never hear the end of it from M.J.…
"Oh my g- H-Harry Osborn?!"
Harry blinks and nods dumbly. Did even the likes of Spider-Man get star struck?
Suddenly, Harry is being enveloped tightly in strong arms and being pushed against Spider-Man's chest. Harry gasps in surprise, momentarily stunned by the affectionate gesture. Personally, he did not get hugged often. What was really strange though, was the fact that Spider-Man was hugging him. Did Spider-Man hug everyone he rescued? Was he one of those people? Weird.
Overcoming his shock, Harry attempts to pull back from the tight embrace. He hits the man as he struggles to breath around the material of Spider-Man's gauzy suit. Almost reluctantly, Spider-Man lets him go.
Harry stumbles back, hair askew and already plastering to his forehead from the rain. With an unstable sway in his stance, he habitually brushes himself off. Perhaps to retain some semblance of Osborn-grace, which was perhaps one roof-top tumble too far of a failed venture at this point.
He looks at Spider-Man, and is slightly surprised.
Spider-Man is much taller than Harry had anticipated, and bulkier, if the very-figure hugging latex suit was anything to go by. It is a garish red and blue costume, with wide white eyes that are almost friendly looking, as well as web designs for decoration. It looks well-made, but ridiculous all the same. If Harry was not feeling utterly traumatised, he might have laughed.
"Uhhh, thanks." Harry manages breathlessly. There is not much more to be said.
"No problem, man." Spider-Man said cheerfully. He peers over the side of the building before adding, rather mournfully, "I didn't manage to save your umbrella though, sorry."
Harry waved him off, feeling surprisingly bemused, "No, no. It's cool. I'm already drenched anyway."
"...so, you'll just buy another one?"
Spider-Man sounds suspiciously wry. Harry indulges him with a laugh.
"I'm an Osborn, I'm sure I'll be fine."
Spider-Man laughs, before slapping himself on the forehead lightly, "Oh shoot!" he yelped, "I have to go catch that bad guy! You can get down by yourself, right?"
Harry nodded, smiling shyly, "Yeah, I think I can manage."
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AN: The pairing I always come back to. Classic Parksborn.
Please R&R!