Chapter 6

Harry checks his wristwatch for the umpteenth time, his teeth grating ever so slowly together with each additional look at the ticking contraption strapped to his arm. He wants out. Now.

Going to Oscorp for the day to 'learn the ropes' was the opposite of interesting. In fact, it wasn't engaging on any level - at least, not under Norman's guidance. Maybe if Norman had let him talk with Dr Connors for a while, or watch Dr Smythe working away at his latest experiment, then maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. Hell, Oscorp was the birthing place of all the most influential discoveries in genetics and scientific advancement! By all rights it should be the most interesting place in Manhattan!

But no, instead, Norman was making him sit in on board-meetings.

Excruciatingly long board-meetings.

Really, the last thing he wanted to do on his Monday off was to follow Norman and his lackeys around. He could think of one hundred other things that he could be doing – all of them a much better use of his time. It didn't help that Smythe's son, Alistair, kept giving him creepy looks – and didn't seem to want to back down from said creepy staring even when Harry caught him at it.

Harry shuddered. Gross.

When the current board meeting (finally) finishes, Harry practically leaps out of his seat and out the door, successfully dodging all the senile men and women in suits shaking hands, as well as Alistair's creeping fingers.

The official Oscorp canteen is on the fifth floor, housing quite a few independent businesses and a sizable dining area. Oscorp had plenty of employees to cater for, even better if they took their lunch in the building and kept on working (or at least, that's what it seemed like to Harry).

Despite being stuck in this desert of a building, Harry does have some friends here. That was how he survived the board meetings – he'd been happily texting them all throughout (with Alistair trying to read over his shoulder all the while). Which is why he's somehow managed to coordinate well-enough to catch Felicia Hardy, his father's PA, on her lunchbreak.

Waiting patiently near the vegan delicatessen is Felicia, sitting at a table in the corner with a tall lemonade, idly tapping her long nails against the dark wood of the table. As usual, she looks astoundingly bored. Then again, being around Norman Osborn for more than five minutes a day, much less eight hours, does that to a person. Harry does not envy her job at all, despite the attractive pay check.

She nods at him.

"Thank you, Felicia."

"No problem. I didn't want to fill out anymore paperwork anyway, to be honest. You owe me a drink later though," Felicia drawled, still tapping out a solid beat on the table, before turning to look at him; "So, what's up?"

Harry sinks further into his seat, flicking the straw of his drink.

"That good?"

Harry nodded dismally.

Felicia stops tapping her nails against the table and gives him a scrutinising look.

"…what happened?"

"I've been stuck in meetings all day, and Dr Smythe's kid gives me the creeps."

Felicia wrinkled her nose, "Oh, yep, I know of him, and I'm not surprised, to be honest,"

Suddenly Felicia looks out into the crowded cafeteria, eyes narrowing in concentration, "…is that the guy at the table over there who hasn't stopped staring over here for the past five minutes?"

Harry looks up, slightly alarmed, "Wait, what?"

Felicia snorts with laughter, "Oh, look! He's turning away now! He's knows we've caught him! Ha, his face is so red!"

Harry turns around only to see the one and only Peter Parker sitting at a table in the Oscorp cafeteria. But what the hell was Peter doing at Oscorp? Had he gotten an internship or something?

He realises he is staring when he notices that Peter has indeed turned a very vibrant shade of red and is staring very pointedly into his drink.

Confused, Harry furrowed his brow, "…what the hell is Peter doing here?"

Felicia looks wry, "I think he's very concerned with what you are doing and who you are meeting. Like a mother hen, maybe?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry grumbled. Really. Peter might be curious, but definitely not worried.

"I want to know what his intentions are."

"What?"

"I'm kidding, oh, wait a minute… I recognise him! You guys used to be like, super close!" Felicia said, crossing her fingers for emphasis; "Best Friends 'Til Death. Norman used to hate it when you two would tear up the tower!"

"That's it." Harry said, standing up; "I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind. I'll be back,"

Felicia had no chance to stop him before Harry began making his way over to Peter's table. As if sensing him, Peter looked up in horror and immediately dove under his table.

Harry stopped at the table, tapping his foot impatiently. Still, Peter did not re-emerge.

Seriously?

"What are you doing, Peter?" Harry finally said, sighing loudly.

Peter slowly peeked up at him, body still under the table, having the sense to at least look sheepish.

"Oh, uhhh, hey, Harry. Fancy seeing you here!"

"…at my dad's work?"

"Well, when you put it like that," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What are you doing under the table?"

"I just dropped… my cutlery," Peter finished lamely, blatantly knocking his fork off the table as he spoke, only to pick it up again with a flourish of triumph; "Ha, got it!"

"Right," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "What are you really doing here?"

Peter finally got up from under the table and sat down in his chair, motioning Harry to sit down as well. Keenly aware of his own lingering apathy towards Peter, and the fact that Felicia was watching them, Harry hesitated for a moment, before finally giving in.

"I, uhhh, came here to do some research for uni," Peter said, busying himself with a napkin; "For one of my classes, you know?"

Harry nodded. That made sense.

"But, uhhh, I saw you sitting in here, and I wanted to talk to you," Peter continued, still looking intently at the table; "I miss you."

There was a beat of silence, as his words seemed to run like a loop through Harry's head. Suddenly, everything, all the petty comments, the silence, and the fighting seemed so ridiculous. What had they been doing all this time?

"I miss you, too." Harry whispered, surprising himself.

Peter finally looked up, with his eyes crinkling at the corners and a grin so wide it looked painful. Harry could only bare to look for so long, before he forced himself to look away. It hurt too much.

"Aunt May is always asking about you. She keeps making extra meat-loaf all the time," Peter said, still smiling away like the past year had never happened.

"Norman asked about you the other week." Harry croaked, "I think he misses you, in his own weird way. I can't really tell…"

"Huh, seriously? Yikes, that's an indicator if any that I've been neglecting you…"

Harry stiffened, fingers curling tightly into fists. Hearing it said aloud made it all that much more real. At least Peter wasn't denying that he'd been a jerk but it certainly wasn't difficult to accept either. Why was being a grown-up so complicated?

"Yeah, you have," Harry said quietly, "I haven't been too friendly either, mind you,"

"No!" Peter said, grabbing Harry's hand from across the table and clasping it tightly. As if to stop Harry from getting away, as if he wanted Harry to be there. "No, that's not fair."

"Pete, c'mon, I'm just being truthful. I haven't been easy to be around or talk to lately, and I have noticed you trying. I've just been so… angry? I guess?"

"Okay, stop right there!" Peter said, clasping their hands together more tightly; "I guess we've both done things we regret, but that doesn't mean we're not best friends, okay? We've been together since childhood, Har, and I'm not gonna let some silly fight dictate otherwise!"

There was a beat of silence, and Harry's heart fluttered in his chest.

In all this time, he'd quite forgotten what it felt like to have Peter by his side, fighting for him, refusing to take 'no' for an answer. Only now, with his heart stuck in his throat, could he recall.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

Both Harry and Peter were thrown from their reverie and turned, only to see the Oscorp security detail marching over to the tables, with one guard wielding a mean-looking taser.

What in the fresh hell?

Peter's eyes widened comically, "Oh, shit."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and pushed himself away from the table, "Pete? What's going on?"

"Shit, fuck – I gotta go, Harry," Peter said hurriedly, grabbing his satchel.

"Peter!"

"Let's talk properly, okay? Ten AM this Friday at that coffee-house – y'know, the one near our old school? I'll see you there, Har!" Peter called over his shoulder, knocking over tables and chairs as he sprinted for the doors, with the guards hot on his trail.

Harry looked on, somewhat bemused, but still concerned about whatever Peter had done to piss off Norman's security team. What on earth was going on?

.

.

.

A/N:

PETER SCORED A DATE

(in his head)

...

and Alistair Smythe's flirting skills need serious work