Chapter 5
With mousse, thick between his fingers, Harry musses up his thin hair. The club they are going to is not exactly fancy, so he has opted for a simple leather jacket – Prada, of course – paired with a sinfully low-cut shirt that shows off his collarbones. It's for a party – it's fine for him to cut loose, at least a little bit (and the less Norman hears about it the better).
"Goddamn it, Harry. This is my party and you're making me look like shit." Mary-Jane said, shaking her head in exasperation.
She must be blind, in Harry's opinion. Mary-Jane had great taste in clothing, never mind the brand or cost. She could make anything work. The red skater-dress and dark denim jacket she was currently sporting weren't designer label, but they looked good all the same.
"Not even a plastic bag could make you look like shit, let's be honest." Harry laughed, giving her an exaggerated once-over.
Mary-Jane rolls her eyes, "Don't get all soft. Not your style."
"Fine. I'll leave the compliments to Gwen. She'll probably jump you when she sees you."
Harry quickly dodges her arm when she goes to hit him with a scandalised scream, "Harry!"
"Look, I'm lucky to be going out tonight at all. Norman's gone all militant on me – doesn't want me staying out late, wants me to report in every hour, the works!" Harry complained, straightening his jacket for the umpteenth time; "I don't get it!"
He wasn't exaggerating. It was just strange behaviour! Of course, Norman had been staying late at work lately, and there was the upcoming gala in a few weeks, so might it just be stress? It was a possibility, right? Stress manifested in a weird over-protective mood that had lasted for nearly half a month now. Yeah. That made sense, right?
Mary-Jane raised an eyebrow, "Seriously? That's unusual… maybe he's going senile? Or he desperately wants to connect with you after all these years?"
Harry and Mary-Jane exchanged a pointed look before bursting out laughing.
Ahhh, terrible fathers.
The Blue Grotto is only their first stop for the night, but it's certainly one of the nicest. Not overtly fancy, but clean enough (which was probably more due to the fact that it had only opened a month ago). Still, the atmosphere was lively, and the music was consistently fantastic.
Glaring lights flash sporadically overhead, only in varying shades of blue, and illuminating each inch of the dance-floor like a deep-sea cavern. Even better, the lighting casts a great shadow over everything else, giving a sense of privacy to those in more interest of conversation in the booths.
The music pulses loudly around them and walls seem to vibrate in time with the beat, as well as the floors which thrum steadily beneath Harry's boots. Paired with the roar of people bustling and dancing around them, Harry can hardly hear himself think. To his own credit, he does not stumble over his own feet. He's been in plenty of clubs before, some of which had been far dingier and that he had thankfully mostly erased from his memory.
M.J. is a natural and leads him by the wrist through the throng, straight over to the booths. Lewis is trailing behind them, looking particularly out of place, with his back ramrod straight and the beginnings of a migraine twisting his features into a grimace. Harry slips him a twenty-note and a pack of analgesics, with an apologetic grin.
Normally, he would have just had Lewis drop him off and cut him loose for a few hours, but with Norman's new rules, that just wasn't possible. So poor Lewis had to tag along.
Most of their friends are already sitting down, laughing tipsily and sharing drinks, alcoholic and otherwise. There's Gwen of course, looking pretty-as-a-picture in a soft-blue jumpsuit, and then there's Ned and Miles sitting in the corner hunched over their Nintendo Switches, no doubt replaying Breath of the Wild for the third time in a row. Not surprisingly, Flash is already dancing on the table, thoroughly ignoring the annoyed glances of the bartenders. There's plenty of others there too: most of them people that Harry doesn't recognise, perhaps more of M.J.'s uni friends?
Oh, and there's Liz, wearing a flattering purple top, and already deep in conversation with-
Oh. Oh no.
Goddamnit.
"What is he doing here?" Harry yelled, straining to make himself heard over the noise.
Cupping her mouth, Mary-Jane gasped, "Oh my god. I'm sorry, Harry! I told Gwen she should bring along some friends, 'cus more the merrier and all that…"
Harry shakes his head, mouth set firmly in a line, "I guess I'll just have to put up with it."
He was not going to leave just because of Peter Parker. He had just as much right as Peter to hang out with his friends.
"Uggh…stupid. I can't believe I forgot that they're in the same course!" she turned to Harry, waving her hands as if to calm him down, "But don't worry! I'm going to be right there; I'll pick him off you if I have to! Plus, Flash and the others are here too. Plenty of other people to talk to!"
"M.J.! It's fine. Don't worry about me, OK?"
"We can leave right now, if you want! I'll just let Gwen know, okay?"
"No, it's fine! This is your party. I'm here to celebrate you and your blog success – just like everyone else, okay? This is your night."
And he meant it too. M.J. had worked her ass off to make her blog as successful and as interesting as it was. It was pretty much because of M.J. that the Spider-Man fan community in New York was so prominent nowadays. She deserved to party with all of her friends, even if Harry didn't like some of them, because that's the sort of things that friends were meant to do for each other. Give and take.
With a deep breath, Harry heads towards the booth with M.J. in tow. Almost instantly, M.J. is pulled into a tight hug by Gwen, the two of them swaying slightly on the spot. It was almost nauseatingly cute, Harry thought as he quickly looked away.
Too late, he realises his mistake.
"It's my boy! HARRY O! HARRY O!"
Suddenly, Flash is there pulling him into a headlock, which turns into an affectionate hug somewhere in the process, but Harry just feels like he's being squeezed to death. He pats the bulky man on the shoulder awkwardly, enjoying the attention anyway.
The hug is short-lived when Ned and Miles practically jump him and they all collapse in a filthy dogpile on the floor, laughing their heads off. Through the soreness, the rampant giggling, and Ned's elbow rammed into his nose, he manages to wail helplessly.
Luckily, Gwen has stopped hugging M.J. long enough to notice his distress, and she promptly pulls him out.
God, he hadn't even had a drink yet.
Time to correct that.
With a drink finally in hand, Harry returns promptly to the table.
Not surprisingly, Ned and Miles have stopped hugging everyone and are now back to focusing all their attention on their Switches. Gwen and M.J. are curled up in the corner of the booth, smiling at each other with soft touches and lingering looks. It's ridiculous and Harry wants to yell at them to hook-up already. Gosh.
Meanwhile, Flash has somehow managed to drag Liz out onto the dancefloor with a bunch of the others, where they seem to be desperately battling the sluggish effects of the alcohol with their own desires to look good dancing. It's hilarious.
But then where was…
Feeling a prickling at his neck, Harry turns only to see Peter obnoxiously gawking at him.
Fuck.
Harry's fists curl at his sides. Did Peter really expect him to stay away? This was for M.J., after all, and Harry had just as much right to celebrate with her as Peter.
"Hey, Harry!"
As usual, Peter sounds upbeat and just a bit more awkward than usual. Strangely, enough he's very red in the face. Maybe it was the drinks? Pfft, of course it was the drinks.
Perhaps they could be civil today. Peter didn't sound like he was trying to start anything.
Voice deceptively level, Harry merely nods, "Peter."
"Nice party, right?"
"Yeah, M.J. and Gwen always throw the best get-togethers."
"Hmmm, I don't know about that." Peter said, his eyes brimming with mischief; "I think you and I threw some pretty good slumber parties back in the day."
Oh, why did he have to go and say that? He was right of course. Their sleepovers had been the best – video-games, junk food, prank calls, wacky science-experiments that would have made anyone's hair stand on end, and relentless bad-mouthing of Norman.
Harry missed all that, he really did.
Which only made it all the more difficult to snub Peter.
"Yeah, I guess," he said, finding himself unable to look the other boy in the eye.
"You know, I still can't believe how well M.J.'s blog is doing!" Peter gushed, changing the subject when Harry didn't budge.
Despite his fingers tightening around his frosty glass, Harry manages to feign a smile.
"Hmmm," He murmured agreeably, looking everywhere but at Peter. Trying to be sociable towards Peter was utterly exhausting when every cell in Harry's body wanted to punch him in the face instead.
"She sure is lucky to have gotten an interview with that anon dude, and the pictures too! All of those Spidey fans are just lapping it up!"
Harry nodded tightly, "She definitely deserves the attention anyway – she puts in a lot of hard work."
"I can't imagine where she finds the time though… say, do you ever help her out?" Peter mused.
Worriedly, Harry glances at him quickly before letting his features settle. Did Peter suspect? Would he expose him? Surely not… only they weren't exactly friendly nowadays. Harry knew Peter wasn't the vengeful sort, but people changed, right?
The media would have a field-day with Harry Osborn the Spider-Man Fanatic.
"Oh, yeah, every now and again. I'll pick up some odd-jobs for her, follow-up on anonymous tips for Spider-Man sightings, that sort of thing. Nothing too big though." Harry said quickly, fingers fumbling around his glass.
Peter looked thoughtful, seeming to accept Harry's rambling explanation. A sick feeling gnaws its way through Harry's gut, however, as he can practically see the gears turning in Peter's head. They were childhood friends – Harry knew every micro-expression or otherwise in detecting Peter's moods and thoughts. Right now, Peter looked like he was trying to figure something particularly puzzling out in his head.
Knowing how smart he was, Harry was sure that Peter would.
It's too much.
Suddenly feeling nauseous, Harry turns to leave, "E-excuse me…"
"Harry, wait!" Peter said, grabbing Harry's wrist and stopping him in his tracks; "I'm sorry! I don't know what I said, but we can change the subject or whatever you want,"
Harry froze, looking firstly at Peter's hand on his wrist, and then at the man himself. He looks concerned.
A familiar feeling shoots through Harry's chest, almost like deja vu, which he instantly chalks down to the fact that he's known Peter all his life, and this isn't the first time they've fought, or been upset in each other's presence. But it's the first time that look has hurt. Harry wants so much to throw aside his grievances and for things to go back to the way they were. He knows there isn't a malicious bone in Peter's body – and he loves that about him. He loves that so much, he wishes he could be more like that – more forgiving, more loving. Only, he knows that even if he did, Peter wouldn't – couldn't – change.
In that instant, all the anger in Harry's head is gone.
In its place, an emptiness settles in, and all the energy in his body drains away.
When the group eventually tires of The Blue Grotto, and moves onward through the bustling streets to the next bar, Harry makes a point to keep Peter at arm's length.
.
.
.
A/N:
anyone else enjoying the new Spider-Man cartoon? All the Parksborn moments are A++
(USM was pretty good for Parksborn moments too, initially)