I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise.
However I have also taken inspiration from TASM2 video game, incorporating characters and quotes to further enhance this story – no profit is made, I take no credit, and I don't own anything, sadly.
Nothing pleased Harry more, than to know he was taking Hayley to the charity gala.
Sure, she hadn't said yes straight away, citing whether it would be morally ethical to accompany a patient to such a public event and all that political crap. But he didn't have to do much to get her to see things his way.
With a bit of charm and his standard pout, Hayley had agreed to attend the gala as his date. He even told her that being in large crowds scared him, especially when he was expected to give a speech. Of course she had melted at such an intimate confession. Then Hayley proceeded to give her own passionate declaration that it was actually in his best interest to have her with him. She would be able to monitor his state of mind as a test run for when he was released from the house arrest sentence. It sounded like a lot of bull to him, but if that was how she reasoned it in her mind, then who was he to say otherwise.
It was sad really, how easily she had fallen into his trap, Harry mused. It was almost like she had intended for this outcome by bringing up the subject to begin with. He wouldn't put it past her since she was a psychiatrist, using her powers of subliminal messages and reverse psychology. Although he'd prefer to think he held the power and upper hand in their relationship, though he wasn't always sure when it came to her.
Either way, Harry was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time.
However, this bright spark in his otherwise dull and confined existence didn't stop him from being utterly bored each and everyday. The numerous daily meetings with the OsCorp board of directors were monotonous, even if he enjoyed the power he held over people twice his age. Especially Menken.
He filled his day in between meetings with drinking, seeing Hayley, and ritualistically watching the news. Harry had immensely enjoyed the destruction Rhino had caused in Alphabet City. Seeing the seeds of Project Sinister being sown only made him hunger for his own release, so that he could contribute more to the plan he and Gustav Fiers had concocted. Especially since he was, indirectly, the financial benefactor of these new villains.
Seeing the mechanical Rhino suit in action and the Hunter's OsCorp army prototype crossbow, made him long for his armoured suit and glider. Though he quickly reasoned that it was in fact the Goblin who yearned for it, not himself. Besides, Harry had no idea where his green armour had disappeared to when they pried it off his body all those months ago. If he had to guess, it was probably somewhere extremely obvious, like back in Special Projects. However, he wasn't stupid enough to access the computer files and look.
As it was, his movements while under house arrest were monitored closely. His emails, phone calls, computer and Internet activity were screened, as were his visitors, not that he had any visitors other than Hayley. It meant that communication with Fiers was limited and had to be sneaky. So sneaky, that they had discovered a method of contact that the court assigned investigative agents had overlooked; the postal service.
In this day and age of technology, the probing agency had neglected to factor in methods of communication that didn't require a microchip. It was quite comical really. Harry would delight in permanently removing these agents… what was their name? Armor or Hammer… Defend, was it? He couldn't remember, but they would fall in the end.
The weekly letters from Fiers gave Harry a small shred of control, a sinister taste of the power he would wield as the rightful leader of the chosen five, with himself making six.
But until his time under house arrest was over and society deemed him normal again, Harry was stuck with his suffocating boredom.
Some days, he would even pretend to have a goblin relapse just so that Hayley would drop everything and break up the tedium with a second daily visit.
Today was not one of those false relapse days. In fact, today happened to be the second of his twice-weekly counselling sessions, a day that he loathed. Hayley was always more severe and sombre during their sessions, never any fun at all.
He commended her on how dedicated she was to his care, to her role as a psychiatrist, but he was over this charade. Harry was free from Ravencroft, certified sane, so why he was forced into the position of troubled rich kid, he did not understand. And the other thing that bugged him was how Hayley had become even more professionally focused ever since she'd accepted his gala invite the previous week. It was like she now had to prove that their going together was strictly business, when they both knew it was anything but. If it didn't irritate him so, the gesture could be considered sweet.
And Harry, no, the Goblin, didn't do sweet.
Harry tapped his fingers rhythmically on his knee as he stared out the giant windows of the penthouse. In particular, he focused on the birds flitting through the sky, soaring up and down and around, like he had once done on his missing glider. They looked so free, so effortless. It was hard not to envy them.
"Harry? Harry?"
Turning his gaze and attention away from the feathered flyers, Harry finally focused on the redhead, who was pursing her lips in an annoyed fashion. Not that she'd ever voice her frustration.
"I know it might be hard to focus, but please try," Hayley reasoned. "Tell me, how are you adjusting to the change of living in Osborn Manor? It's been just over a month now."
He shrugged and glanced back to the window, "It's alright."
"Alright?"
"Better than Ravencroft."
Hayley sighed heavily - it was like getting blood from a stone. "You'll have to give me more than that."
"Are we in a session?" Harry asked casually, still refusing to give her his whole focus.
Their psychotherapy sessions were the only time that he didn't give his full attention to her. Instead he remained aloof, cutting himself off from the situation.
Rolling her eyes, Hayley leaned forward a bit in her blue cushioned chair, "You know we are Harry. I only visit you more than once a day so that we can have these sessions. They are court mandatory! You have to start taking them seriously."
Harry stood abruptly and walked over to the window. He jumped up onto the grey sofa opposite his favourite one, and longing gazed out at the Manhattan skyline, at the bird filled blue sky.
"Look, I know you hate this, but I still have to do therapy with you. How am I meant to write reports on our sessions if we don't have any? If you don't communicate with me?"
"Just make something up," he snapped, watching the birds hypnotically swaying up high in the breeze.
"You know I can't. It would be going against my Hippocratic oath."
"You've done it before," Harry stated simply, before looking back at her, smiling. It was a grin that was neither kind nor sinister, but more a satisfied smirk, like he knew more than he should.
Like he knew all her secrets.
Hayley shuffled awkwardly in her seat, unable to hold his meaningful scrutiny. She questioned in her mind, how much Harry did know about the corners she'd cut to give him the best possible treatment in Ravencroft.
Manners had continued to administer his medication during her short absence, which meant the lawyer had read all her notes and discovered her drug-dispensing secret. Could that be what Harry was referring to? Or maybe the time when she'd discovered him beaten and bloodied, and snuck him extra pain medication and an icepack. Hayley and done many off the books actions to ensure Harry's recovery. And although that may not have truly gone against her Hippocratic oath, it definitely would be considered unprofessional, and in some cases, illegal
Did he mean all of those times? Or maybe it was a small dig at when they shared their first heated moment, at her misconduct of kissing a patient.
Hayley shuddered, hoping he was not referring to the latter.
"Birds are beautiful aren't they," she said changing the subject and softening her tone as she went to stand next to him on the sofa. "They transcend everything, existing in their own world and ours. They are free in a way humans can never be."
"It's stifling being back in this place," Harry muttered, his voice void of any emotion. He aggressively clutched the iron railing in front of him, his knuckles turning white. "I avoided it like the plague for so many years, exploring the world, revelling in the freedom of being away from my father. And now, every room, every hallway, even the décor, all a constant reminder of my father. Even in death, he has ensnared me to this house, to OsCorp, who are probably the only people in the world that can save me from his genetic curse."
Staying quiet, Hayley tried to make mental notes of everything he was revealing to her.
Then she squeaked and jumped as a sharp punching noise broke through the sombre silence of her patient's confession.
Harry, his fist clenched and pressed angrily against the windowpane, narrowed his blue yet green hazed eyes at the soaring Manhattan birds.
"I'm going to die," he spoke through gritted teeth, "Die alone, trapped in my father's shadow. I will never be free from him."
Hayley gently put her own hand over Harry's, coaxing him to remove it from the glass. She felt his fist uncurl, and soothingly laced her fingers between his, hoping he'd find some comfort. Plus, he wouldn't be able to punch the window again.
"I know it seems hopeless now, but you are not your father, Harry. And you won't die from this either, I won't let you. Besides, you have something your father never had."
Harry turned towards her, a questioning eyebrow quirked.
"Me," she said firmly, her earnest smile radiant. "I will help you find a cure. And you won't be alone. I'll be with you."
"Why?"
"It's part of my contract," she teased lightly. "I know you must have a serious case of cabin fever, but you only have one more month. Take it one day at a time, hmm? You've got the gala to look forward to; you'll be out and about like you used to be."
Her smile was so infectious that Harry felt himself believing her every word. He lightly stroked her fingers with his thumb, noticing her eyes quickly dart to their joined hands. An innocent gesture of friendship, which held more sentiment and meaning than she realised.
Her skin felt glorious, so cool and soft compared to his. He remembered all the times she had touched him, touched his face, his body, her movements so tender and caring. She didn't have to show such kindness, Harry realised, yet she did without instruction, without a second thought. Sure Hayley was timid and innocent in her touch, but she was slowly becoming more confident, he could see that. Holding his hand now, her skin felt electric. They fit so easily together like it was meant to be. And Harry wasn't going to let go of that feeling so easily.
"Anyway, how are you able to go to the gala? House arrest isn't over yet?" Hayley asked, casually trying to release her hand.
She tugged lightly but instantly his hand tightened in some sort of viper death grip. Quickly looking up to gauge his reaction, Hayley was greeted with a glare that clearly said "No".
So the two of them remained stood, hands joined, staring at one another.
Hayley was unsure of whether this was some sort of test or maybe a battle of wills. Either way, she offered a small smile to try and lighten the mood because Harry's glare was so intense. She could feel herself getting lost in those eyes again; those icy sparkling blue orbs that had a hint of green in them…
She stiffened, realising that a hint of green was not normal. Green was the danger colour. Green indicated the creature within stepping forward, winning control of Harry's psyche. If she weren't locked in this weird staring contest, Hayley's psychiatrist mode would kick in, wanting to jot down her observations. Her throat felt dry and her eyes ached from staring.
But then Harry blinked and the green haze disappeared. He stepped down from the sofa, pulling Hayley along for the ride.
He sat back on his grey sofa, with Hayley powerless to do anything but sit next to him. She had never sat beside him before, except in the Limo, as she wanted to maintain a professional distance.
Well, that was out the window, because as soon Hayley went to sit down, Harry yanked her closer so that their shoulders and knees were flush together. Hayley tried to surreptitiously move her legs slightly because the heat emanating from his body was proving to be her undoing. She needed to stop herself from melting against him – she could practically feel the heat rash beneath her shirt.
Unfamiliar tension was building inside her, and Harry continuously stroking her fingers was not helping. Why was he still holding her hand? She needed him to let go. Not because it was awkward, but because she liked it.
"How are you able to attend the gala, Harry?" Hayley tried again, hoping to ease the deafening silence between them. She was sick of hearing her conscience buzzing at her.
"Oh, it's being lifted for the duration of the event. Part of my community service and all that rubbish," Harry replied nonchalantly, though unable to hide his bitterness as he bit out the last word.
"Harry! It's not rubbish! It's for charity! To repair the power plant and buildings you destroyed when Sp – "
Harry stiffened beside her and tightened his hold on her hand.
" – when you weren't yourself," she finished semi-smoothly.
He chuckled lightly, "Is that what they're saying about me? I imagine Menken has spread numerous rumours trying to taint what little reputation I have left."
"I haven't heard any rumours. Not at OsCorp anyway."
Smiling to himself at her innocence, Harry finally released her hand so that he could run both his hands through his hair and over his face.
"You won't hear any rumours Hayley because you are too close to me," he stated exasperatedly," Menken's lies will be business tactics to tarnish my ability as CEO. Any gossip you might hear, will be about us."
"Us?" Hayley squeaked. "I know about the newspaper gossip, but none of that has been spoken about around OsCorp."
Tittering again, Harry shook is head in indignation; was she really that stupid, that blind? She hadn't heard any gossip because it would be spoken about her behind her back. OsCorp was a full-blown rumour mill with the company being so large – office people thrived on gossip.
"I'm serious! There are no rumours about you at all, except…" Hayley trailed off suddenly remembering a conversation she overhead the other day.
Harry didn't miss a thing.
"Except what, Hayley?" he adamantly asked – she wasn't going to get out of this one. Harry put is arm around the back of the couch and stared at her intently, waiting for her response.
Looking dead ahead, anywhere but him really, Hayley recounted what she heard.
"I was in the elevator, it was quite crowded. I was stuck at the back, behind some tall men, so no one could see me, but there were lots of the secretary girls in front of us. They were discussing the gala, dresses, and all that girl talk…one of the girl's was Felicia."
She quickly glanced at Harry to see his reaction before continuing; he didn't seem fazed at all, just a raised eyebrow in interest. And those eyes, god, his eyes were so expressive, but with an emotion she could not pinpoint.
Turning to face the window again, Hayley continued, her voice with an unusual hard edge. "She was very adamant that you two are going together. Going to the gala. She wouldn't stop going on about it to the other secretaries. Apparently you're her boyfriend."
"Does that upset you?"
"It's none of my business really," Hayley replied stiffly, "I just find it odd that her boyfriend is actually taking me to the gala."
Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing - Hayley was jealous of Felicia, who would have thought. Plus, jealousy looked so darn cute on her.
"So you like the green eyed monster on her, but you won't ever allow me to come out when you're with her," the Goblin muttered sarcastically in Harry's mind. "I'm not stupid. I could feel you supressing me when you were kissing her at Ravencroft – "
"I'll talk to her," Harry responded quickly, ignoring the Goblin's snarky comments.
"It's ok," she said quietly, "I told her you weren't allowed to have a relationship."
"What?" laughed Harry, practically spluttering, unable to keep the hilarity of the situation from entering his voice.
"I mean, I just thought that…erm…you know, maybe we would talk about it in our sessions? It would be a big change for you…maybe?" Hayley said nervously, her previous confident delivery vanishing, as she started doubting her decision to intervene in his affairs without asking.
It had been very awkward for Hayley to approach the lying brunette but a strange anger fuelled her actions – it was very out of character.
"I wouldn't normally do something like that, it's just that whenever I saw her she'd be talking about it, and I had to intervene," Hayley started to ramble. "Like how could you be her boyfriend when you asked me? I know she saw you in Ravencroft, but you're not right? You're too good for her anyway."
"Jealous are we?" Harry teased.
He was getting immense satisfaction at seeing her getting this flustered and passionate about something, especially when that something was him. And, he couldn't deny how hot she looked with her eyes wide and chest heaving with anxious breaths. Now, if only he could get her to be this way and squirming beneath him…
"No. It's just that rumours are ugly and I don't think she should be spreading lies, because you're not her boyfriend. I mean, you're not, at least I don't think you are…"
God, her eager and nervous face was so attractive, Harry just wanted to kiss her worries away. He could practically hear the Goblin salivating at her beauteous need for validation.
Harry slowly leaned forwards and gently stroked her cheek, "Felicia is nothing to me. Nothing. She is not worthy of my time. Do you understand?"
Hayley nodded slowly, desperately trying not to close her eyes and lean into his touch.
"If you remember, one has to be special and deserving of my attention if they are worthy…." Harry bent closer so that he could whisper in her ear, "…and you know there is only one person who is worthy… and that's you."
"That's you Ginge," purred the Goblin, but only for Harry to hear in his mind.
Hayley felt his breath caress her ear, making all the little hairs on her arms and neck spark up. Her ear was on fire; she could practically sense his lips edging closer and closer and closer. He was going to kiss her, Hayley knew it, he was going to kiss her for the first time since Ravencroft. And she wanted it, she desperately wanted him to…
"I have something to ask!" she yelled, suddenly jumping up from the sofa.
Harry let his head flop back over the couch top, exhausted. Did that really happen? Did she just deny him, again? Her innocence was killing him. His sexual frustration was killing him.
"More questions?" he moaned utterly defeated.
"Oh, well, I guess it could wait until after therapy," Hayley said, beginning to remember that they were actually meant to be in a session.
Harry always did this, always distracted her to avoid answering pressing and meaningful questions. They were never going to work through his issues at this rate.
Lifting his wrist to his slung back head, Harry inspected his Rolex; "You're off the clock now, doll. Session is over."
Thank god, Harry thought.
"You know the gala is a black tie event, well, what kind of dress does that mean?" she queried, feeling slightly embarrassed by her lack of knowledge. "I only own two, and they're a bit…erm…I don't think they're going to be suitable - "
"Did I not say?" replied Harry, sitting up properly, his face serious, "I got Connolly to call the girls at DVF to pick out a gown for you."
"Wh-what?"
"Your dress needs to match the colour of my tie," he said simply, like it was obvious.
"Wow…erm…wow. Thank, thank you…you're too kind Harry."
"Just make sure you get here by five on Saturday. Apparently it'll take over an hour to get your hair and makeup done, so I'm told."
He'd organised for a professional hair and makeup artist as well as a designer gown… Hayley wanted to faint at his generosity.
Hayley was really glad that she didn't have to do her own hair and makeup, because there was no way she could have ever made herself look like this. The only makeup she owned was mascara and lip-gloss; she wore the former every day and only used the latter for a special occasion.
The charity gala was a special occasion but there was no lip-gloss in sight. No, apparently it was all about the nude lip and smoky eye. That's what Lucy, the hair and makeup artist, told her after she had completed painting Hayley's face. She had even used a silver sparkling eye shadow to dust Hayley's cheekbones with. Not only would it make her slim face shine but it matched her evening bag. The designer handbag was shaped like a star, adorned with silver glitter, and it hung on a long sleek silver chain strap.
Along with the silver sparkle on her cheeks, Hayley's dark makeup looked striking on her porcelain skin, surrounding her green eyes with mystery. The overall look was beautifully haunting.
However, her hair was what Hayley loved most about her transformation.
She only wore it up everyday for convenience and had no clue what hairstyle suited her. At least her perfectly made hair was in a style she recognised, a ponytail, but that's where her knowledge stopped. As soon as Lucy brought out a curling wand, Hayley just sat back and let the magic happen. Her auburn hair was pulled up high, fastened, and all wisps and flyaway strands sprayed into conformity. Then small sections of the pony were delicately curled and the teased apart, so that the overall style was sleek on top but messy in the back.
Hayley thought she looked like a woodland fairy.
"All done," Lucy smiled happily, spraying one final misting over her ginger creation. "You look gorgeous hun, Mr Osborn won't know what to do with himself."
"Erm is there any jewellery?" Hayley asked quickly, not wanting to think how Harry would react – she barely recognised herself in the mirror!
"Not that I know of," replied the makeup artist, who was now busily packing up all her hair wands and jars of lotions and potions. "Your dress is in that garment bag on the wardrobe."
When Lucy had arrived, Connolly showed Hayley and the artist into one of the small guest bedrooms up in Harry's penthouse, so that they could have some privacy. The bedroom was stunning and had the same mahogany décor that seemed to be a prominent theme in the Osborn Manor. The room also had an en suite bathroom, a variety of expensive art pieces, a queen-sized bed, a huge Narnia-like wardrobe, and a mirrored vanity table that Hayley had been sitting at. But now, with the promise of her designer dress only a few metres away from her, Hayley quickly rushed out of her seat and over to the wardrobe.
She carefully unzipped the bag, unveiling a long column like dress; it was sleeveless with a bateau neckline that would show off her slim collarbones. It was stunning and made of cool floating silk. The dress was pure black.
"Match the colour of his tie my ass," Hayley said quietly, a grin of pure joy on her face.
The dress was elegant in its simplicity – it fit her personality perfectly. Completely understated, completely her. She had to hand it to Harry; he had style and knew exactly what to ask for when requesting a designer gown.
Lifting the dress and its hanger out of the garment bag, Hayley turned over the dress, eager to get it on.
And that's when the dress stopped being beautiful.
Hayley's eyes widened, her breathing momentarily stopped, and she felt sick to her stomach.
The dress was partially backless.
Tears began to form in her eyes though she refused to let them fall. Hayley had just had spent two hours getting made up and, damn it, she would not let this ruin the night. Could she really wear this? Could she muster the courage to expose her back to the world?
The fabric on the back of the dress was draped in delicate layers that would end underneath her shoulder blades. Her whole body would be covered except the top of her back. This had to be a mistake. It had to be. Harry would never request a dress like this, he knew about her scars, he knew…unless… it was a test.
This was another one of his stupid tests!
Shaking her head defiantly, Hayley knew she couldn't let him win, and as much as she would hate what she as about to do, it would be easier than displaying her burns. She whirled round and ran towards Lucy who was heading out to leave.
"Do you have any boob tape?"
Harry was standing in his bathroom, struggling with the sleek black tie that would complete his three-piece suit. His hair was perfectly blow-dried and his black Italian leather shoes were freshly polished, squeaking on the beautifully tiled floor. He was as ready as he was ever going to be…except for his blasted tie.
"Hayley!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, "Hey, Hayley, get in here!"
She had to be finished getting ready by now!
Plus, he was eager to see how she'd respond to his little game. Hayley would not refuse to wear the dress, of that he was certain. Whatever move she did make, her actions would be telling. Her only two choices were to accept his challenge with no resistance, or to make a fuss but still wear it. To be submissive or to weakly rebel. Harry had her cornered – it was practically checkmate.
"Hayley! I need you to do my tie!" he called again, staring at himself in the bathroom mirrors.
The door to his right opened.
"Hey?" Hayley said slowly, popping her head in thoroughly confused, "How did you get in my bathroom?"
"Technically," Harry replied fixing his shirt collar, still looking at the mirror, "This is my bathroom."
He pointed towards a door on his left by the strikingly gleaming bath. The door was slightly ajar showing his bedroom on the other side.
"How…. no, why do you have a bathroom with two doors? Wait, why do you have two bedrooms sharing the same bathroom?"
"Well, you know, I am rich."
"Yeah no shit, this dress is like pure silk," Hayley muttered.
Rolling his eyes at her comment, Harry gave her a quick sideways glance.
His jaw dropped immediately, eyes widening in appreciation of her body, her hair, her…everything. He was completely stunned at how different Hayley appeared; it was still her underneath the makeup and upper class glamour, just with her natural beauty enhanced.
She was a vision.
"You…you look beautiful," Harry whispered, his voice rumbling, the words getting caught in his throat.
Hayley mumbled a quiet "thanks" and something that he couldn't quite catch because she was staring at the floor in embarrassment.
It was only with her face pointed down that Harry became aware that the dress was wrong; she was wearing it back to front.
It was not a move he had anticipated, not in a million years. Though he could not deny that being treated to a very flattering view of her chest wasn't a bad thing.
She had won. It was checkmate indeed.
"I match your tie," smiled Hayley shyly, not wanting any more awkward silences.
"My tie? Yes, my tie, it's difficult to…I can't tie it with the lesion on my neck," he admitted lamely – he hated exposing any weakness but today the wound was extremely sore.
Hayley rushed over to him, forgetting her previous discomfort from wearing the dress. Carefully she turned up his collar and untied the messy knot he'd created. She began to tie it properly, remembering how from when she did her father's tie as a child. Hayley took her time, conscious not to aggravate his lesion. Though she quickly became very aware of him staring at her strangely.
"Is that dress on the right way?" he asked casually whilst reaching behind her to stroke her unplanned covered back.
"Yes," Hayley replied curtly.
Smirking at her ire, Harry began to twirl the tips of her long messy ponytail between his fingers, "Are you sure?"
She bristled, tugging a little too firmly on the silken tie strip, "Eyes up Mr Osborn."
"Hey, if you're looking at my chest, then why can't I admire yours?"
"I have to look at you to do your tie. You don't have to look at me," she stated awkwardly, a heavy flush burning her cheeks.
"Trust me, I do," he purred.
Harry had no idea how the draped fabric was staying in place, only that it looked striking and elegantly provocative. On anyone else, the dress would seem promiscuous, however with her dainty frame and small chest, Hayley wore it with class. She would be the envy of every woman at the gala. And he would be the envy of every man. They were perfect for each other. Harry could think of no one better to have by his side.
With the tie perfectly fastened, Hayley tried to step back quickly, away from his personal space. However, with his fingers still curled in her hair, she really didn't get very far.
"Well, if I had any jewellery you could at least pretend to stare at that."
"Why do girls know everything?"
"Huh?"
Taking her by the hand, Harry led the redhead silently out of the bathroom, through his bedroom, and out to his sofa in the living room area. He was going so fast, clearly on a mission, that Hayley barely had enough time to stare in awe at his room. It was a blur of wealth, mahogany, ceiling high bookshelves, and the biggest bed she'd ever seen.
But she couldn't even think about that with Harry gently pushing her to sit on the grey sofa. He crouched down before her and fiddled with something she could not see underneath the sofa. She eyed him suspiciously before her they widened as he produced a large red leather box.
It had the words 'Cartier' stamped on in gold.
Carefully, Harry snapped the box open, revealing a diamond and emerald necklace with a matching pair of stud earrings. The stones glistened and sparkled in the artificial light, their precious value apparent in the richness of colour twinkling on Hayley's pale skin. It was strange how the rainbow prisms from the diamonds were glittering in her eyes, but the green from the emeralds covered her face in a subtle hue.
"Told you green would look good on her," the Goblin joked to himself and his host. "She would look even better with me wrapped around her."
"Very funny," Harry thought dryly.
He licked his lips nervously, unsure what to do now that the box was open, his present revealed. Hayley had gone quiet and still, with only her hitched breathing to show any sort of response. Continuously, Harry flicked his eyes from her face to the jewels and back again, trying to elicit a reaction from her, trying to understand what was going through her mind.
"Say something," he said quietly. It was not an order or an unkind request, but simply an uncertain and almost rejection filled plea.
His words snapped her instantly from her jewelled trance and Hayley looked up at him straight in his tentative blue eyes.
"For me?" she asked in wonder.
"For you."
"They're real?"
"Of course," Harry grinned, happy to see her finally understanding the reality of his expensive gift.
She touched the largest emerald stone with a trembling hand, before reclining it and shaking her head. "They're beautiful Harry, but you can't, I don't deserve –"
Before she could even finish, Harry placed a single finger on her lips, quelling her remaining words immediately. He stood and carefully removed the luxurious necklace from its casing before laying the partially empty box on her lap. Leaning over her, Harry moved her hair to one side and fastened the necklace around her neck. Hayley's hand flew to her chest as the cool jewels settled there; it was heavy yet light at the same time.
"You deserve the world Hayley," said Harry calmly, before kissing her upon her head, causing Hayley to glance up at him. "And I want to give it to you."
The Limo ride to their destination was relatively slow due to the usual Manhattan traffic.
The charity gala was being held at The Waldorf-Astoria on Park Avenue and would feature a red carpet complete with the usual paparazzi. Apparently this was going to be one of the biggest events of the year, especially since Harry would be out in public for the first time since his court trial. Hayley was particularly nervous about all the cameras and reporters, especially after her last experience with them. Harry explained that his appearance would garner them a lot of unwanted attention, which was why James and Pete, his bodyguards, were in the Limo with them.
Many other big names would be in attendance. Hayley sat quietly beside Harry whilst he ran through the numerous names and titles of important people and the elite she would be meeting. The only names she recognised were Manners and the Mayor.
The he told her that they might be expected to dance, as there would be a string orchestra playing throughout the night. Hayley was already anxious with trying not to trip in her glittering sky-high Louboutin heels, and obsessively checking that her boob tape was still sticky. So much could go wrong with her appearance alone, and then to throw dancing into the mix, well, Hayley could all ready tell that she wouldn't get through the evening unscathed.
The car came to a stop and Hayley's mouth went dry.
"Time for round one," Harry muttered before exiting the Limo when the outside porter opened the door. He offered Hayley his hand and she slide out to stand next to him on the plush red carpet. "If the cameras freak you out, just look at me, or pretend the reporters are all naked."
She laughed and clutched at his arm as they started walking past press. "Do you really imagine them like that?"
"No. But it got you to smile," he replied grinning widely at her radiant smile – she really did light up when she laughed.
And it was all for him, and only him.
They stopped for a bit so that the media could have their fill; the flickering and flashing cameras were blinding but Hayley soon learnt to semi ignore it. Instead of focusing on them she chose to stare up at Harry like he suggested. She noticed how oddly calm he was, not even a twitch, completely serene among the sharks.
"Go on, tell me your secret then," Hayley enquired fondly, "How do you ignore them."
Harry smiled down at her. "I just imagine them in –" he stopped mid sentence, eyes focusing on a tall skinny reporter with glasses that Hayley could not see.
Peter Parker.
" - I just imagine how stupidly pathetic their lives must be and how easily I could destroy them…"
"Wait, what? Ah!"
Hayley squeaked as Harry took her hand, flung her away from him and then twirled her like a ballerina. Her dress billowed out in the wind like dark batwings, showcasing her slim legs and tiny waist. The cameras went crazy. She could barely see anything, only that Harry had a satisfied smirk on his lips, which she didn't feel was completely directed at her. Was he looking at her or behind her? Hayley couldn't tell.
When he pulled her back to his side, Hayley asked, "What was that for?"
"The dress needs to be photographed properly for the designer," Harry replied distractedly, narrowing his locked eyes at his former friend. But when Hayley turned to see what had his attention, he quickly grasped her face, capturing her lips in a small lingering kiss.
Once again, the paparazzi went crazy, with James and Pete having to prevent a zealous photographer from jumping the red carpet barriers.
"What was that for?" she repeated softly, her legs turning to jelly.
Harry smirked, flipping away his fallen bangs before quickly glancing at her chest. "You're heat rash is adorable," he chuckled, "Not even emeralds can hide that."
Hayley hastily put her hand to her chest, covering the redness by pretending to fiddle with her necklace.
Slinging his arm around her waist, Harry guided them both away from the cameras and further up the carpet. He couldn't help but laugh at her silly attempt to hide her heated reaction to his kiss.
"If you keep touching it, it'll get worse," he hummed.
"I blame you for this entirely," she scowled at him.
Moving to whisper in her ear, Harry growled, "If you were wearing your dress properly then there'd be no need to hide it."
"HARRY, MY BOY!" came a booming voice.
Harry turned sharply upon hearing his name and walked confidently towards a very tall, very large bald man. The two exchanged a firm handshake while Hayley simply stared in awe at the strange man. She had to crane her neck to see his face he was so tall, probably over six foot, at least!
The burly man wore an all white suit with a purple velvet waistcoat and matching pocket-handkerchief. He even had an expensive sleek cane topped by a solid silver skull with red ruby jewelled eyes.
Like Harry, this man wore wealth like it was pittance.
There is no doubt he is filthy rich, Hayley thought.
She tried not to stare too much that it would be considered rude, but then the man faced her, revealing a guff and worn face.
"And who is this pretty little thing?" he roared with a sincere smile.
Hayley had no idea what to say. What was she exactly? Harry's friend, his associate, his nurse, his psychiatrist, his date, his…
"This is Hayley Carmichael, my…I think I've mentioned her before?" Harry replied, clearly as stumped on an introduction as she was.
He gave her a little push in the small of her back when the bald man held out his ginormous hand adorned with sovereign rings.
"Ah yes, the psychiatrist," the man murmured, bringing her hand to his lips for a customary introduction kiss, causing Hayley to stand on her tiptoes. "I'm privileged to finally meet you, Harry often speaks of you."
"He does?" Hayley squeaked as she took her hand back, her green eyes darting between the two men questioningly.
"Of course! Now, where are my manners Miss Carmichael? Wilson Fisk, philanthropist."
"Oh please, call me Hayley," she corrected kindly. "It's wonderful to meet you Mr Fisk." She remembered that he was also a billionaire from what Harry had told her on the ride over.
The reporters and cameras were going wild again, becoming overtly animated at the joy of having two very important people and a ginger gossip enhancer, in one photo. Hayley glanced around, clinging to Harry tightly, starting to get alarmed at all the attention.
"You best be getting inside, young man," Fisk declared slapping Harry on the back, "Twenty minutes until our speech."
Harry nodded grimly. He walked away briskly with Hayley practically skipping in her unsteady heels to catch up.
When they finally left the red carpet and entered the white and gold building of The Waldorf-Astoria, she felt a little relieved. No more paparazzi. Thank god.
The foyer of the hotel was just as expensive as the Osborn Manor, except it was extremely light and vast in comparison, with a cream and gold décor. Beautifully dressed people milled around the marble floor, flute glasses filled with champagne in their hands. There were a lot of air kissing and business handshakes as Manhattan's finest "oohed" and "awed" at each other's expensive attire, throwing false compliments around like feeding crumbs to pigeons.
Many individuals openly stared at Harry and Hayley as they zigzagged through the crowd trying to enter the main ballroom.
Though she was fairly certain that their eyes were transfixed on the young OsCorp CEO's un-goblin like appearance, Hayley couldn't help but remember the subway ride when the commuters stared at her. If anyone did recognise her, since her auburn hair was pretty memorable, their first impressions would be taken from gossip columns of the newspapers. It made her sad that there was already a preconceived notion that she was a fame hungry, career furthering, whorish gold-digger. Her only solace was that Wilson Fisk hadn't looked at her that way. The man seemed to genuinely interested in her like she was a real person and not just some arm candy.
Hayley vowed to get her reputation on the right track, and unfortunately, that meant she would probably have to mingle.
They had reached the heart of the lavish ballroom, which was packed tightly. The huge room was outlined with stone pillars that encircled a cream and gold marble dance floor. There was also a massive winding staircase that led guests to the bathrooms and their prepaid and assigned rooms, should they need them. Servers wondered with posh gourmet canapés and expensive champagne. Professional event photographers roamed the ballroom, taking candid snaps of the most fashionably dressed elite. A group of handpicked reporters from the finest newspapers would also be allowed in the hotel whilst Fisk and Harry gave their speech.
Harry could see Fisk standing near the stage where the string orchestra and sultry solo singer were performing quietly – their purpose was to provide an ambiance and constant soothing background noise, nothing more.
He glanced at his Rolex to see that the time for his speech was imminent.
Pulling Hayley over to the back of the ballroom near the prominent staircase, Harry plonked her beside a stone pillar like she was a naughty child in time out.
"I need you to stay here. Do you understand? Do not move from this spot," he instructed slowly, leaning his hand on the pillar so that he was bearing down above her.
"Erm, sure," Hayley answered cautiously, licking her lips nervously, "But if you're going to do your speech, should I not stand nearer the stage?" When he began to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, she tried a different tactic. "For moral support I mean. But it's fine, I'll stay here, cheering you on from the side-lines," she spoke quickly, "I don't want to interfere."
"Good. See that you don't move," he commanded before stalking away leaving Hayley alone, completely and utterly confused.
It's not he didn't want Hayley by the stage but he needed to concentrate on giving his first public speech since his incarceration. He had to convince several hundred people that his face, the Osborn pretty boy face, was his true form. The goblin incident had to be wiped from their minds, that it was just an unfortunate fluke. They needed to see him as a powerful man again, someone who could not only run the largest business in New York, but also as a legitimate and confident businessman. He would be the centre of attention. He had to control the crowd with his words, for them to see the world his way, if he had any chance of a successful comeback. And Hayley standing with him as he gave his speech would simply destroy the carefully planned facade. Harry didn't care what anyone thought about them and was happy to be seen with her at the gala, however delivering the speech was a different story.
Everyone knew she was his latest conquest, so the papers said, but he was certain that Menken would have slipped her true nature to any potential business partners. If he stood on stage with his psychiatrist hanging on to his every word, then he would be portrayed as weak. People would perceive him as a psycho.
With a million pairs of judging eyes, Harry had to stay supreme.
Maybe it would have been better to take Felicia, Harry though fleetingly.
But when he walked on stage and saw Hayley's defeated face at the back of the crowd, unable to even look at him, Harry instantly felt guilty.
"There is a disease in this city," he started, his voice clear and collected, ringing loudly through the microphone, "A cancerous plague that attracts vigilantism and monsters to roam free through this glorious metropolis that we call our home. As you are undoubtedly aware, I myself have faced many challenging demons since the death of my father, the great Norman Osborn. He did not just leave me a business, an empire, no, he left me a New York institution, and it is my duty to protect it. But too often lately, criminals, intent on destroying it, have preyed on both OsCorp and this city.
"Now, I am no saint. My experience with the Spider-Man has opened my eyes to the true injustice in this city, and that is what the villains and heroes leave in their wake; irreparable damage. And who will pay for their lasting destruction? Not them, but the citizens of New York. That, my friends, is an injustice. Which is why I am happy to announce that a charity has been set up to help repair the ruined buildings and landmarks, not only damaged by myself several months ago, but also from this day forward. This charity is a joint venture with a man who, like me, wants to help."
Stepping back from the microphone, Harry searched the crowd for Hayley's auburn hair for comfort, but he saw nothing.
Wilson Fisk took centre stage next.
"This young man was wrongfully framed by Spider-Man, incarcerated and morally destroyed by a vigilante that is just as guilty for property damage as the villains. The Osborn and Fisk foundation wishes to undo the lingering devastation and costs left by these actions.
"It is our privilege to rebuild this great city. Mr Osborn and I are financing this charity ourselves, rather than increase the burden on taxpayers. However, ladies and gentlemen, we call on you, the people who have the resources, to donate what you are able. This city still faces unprecedented threats, and more money will be needed to continue this charity, this business venture. Your donations will ensure all damage is repaired. Vigilantes like Spider-Man only make the problem worse," finished Mr Fisk, his beady eyes bearing down on the silent crowd.
Harry moved forward and took to the microphone again, to have the final word.
"This is our city. And we are taking it back, rebuilding it brick by brick. Together."
Stupendous applause filled the ballroom, echoing around the high ceilings, shaking the chandeliers with the noise intensity. Already corporate colleagues and company financers were retrieving their wallets and selecting their chequebooks. Such was the power and certainty behind Harry and Fisk's words that the crowd was already willing to donate and back the charity. Besides, what rich man or wealthy woman would not donate to a cause with such a lasting effect on their city?
As the two business tycoons vacated the stage and the orchestra began to play once more, Fisk caught the young Osborn by the arm before he was able to leave.
"I am still more than willing to take OsCorp off your hands," Fisk spoke quietly.
"And my answer is still no," Harry replied sternly, his tone also discreet, not wanting to attract any eavesdroppers.
"That's fine. I'll just wait until you die of the disease that killed your father."
Harry glared at the large and powerful man, wanting to say more, but a server with a tray of champagne flutes suddenly stood before them expectantly. Taking the opportunity to walk away from the conversation, Harry picked up a glass and left. More than anything he wished he could fight back at such a comment, but there would be no confrontations tonight. Instead, he decided to head back to the pillar in search of Hayley.
When he reached the spot, the redhead was nowhere in sight, her absence filled by a tall handsome lawyer. The ever-enigmatic Dave Manners.
"I just caught the tail end of your speech," he said smoothly, lifting his champagne glass in toast. "Very good, very powerful. Practically believed every word," Manners smiled, knowing that Harry wouldn't have formed this charity if not for the terms and conditions of his release from Ravencroft. "I didn't plan on being this late but you know New York, always a hold up somewhere. No girl on your arm Harry? I'm shocked. Have you gone stag?"
"Mmm, yeah, something like that," Harry replied not really listening, He was too busy looking around wildly for Hayley who still hadn't reappeared. It was beginning to worry him. "Did you come alone?" he asked, trying to keep up the conversation so he didn't seem suspicious.
"No," Manners replied, "I brought Karen, my secretary. She's over there."
Harry glanced in the general direction that the lawyer had pointed, but as soon as he saw blonde hair, he looked away. They were all the same, Manners' girlfriends. Blonde. The lawyer had had so many over the years that for Harry, the girls had all morphed into one.
If he had looked properly, Harry would have noticed that Karen was bubbly chatting away to a redhead.
"So where's Felicia," asked the lawyer.
"How would I know? She might not even be here," he replied uncaringly, draining his glass.
"I thought your were bringing her?" Manners inquired suddenly becoming cross, "Hang on, I told her you were taking her. Who the hell did you bring?"
"Ah, so that's where she got the idea."
"I'm serious, who did you bring?"
Both men were torn away from their heated conversation when a shrill and piercing laugh caught their attention.
Karen was giggling loudly in between large gulps of champagne. She had her arm looped with another girl's since she kept tripping over invisible objects, so quickly had she become intoxicated. The girl, who was desperately trying to prevent Karen from toppling over, saw the two men staring and smiled. The redhead waved at them warmly, before deftly removing the half-filled glass from Karen who pouted in mock annoyance.
"My date, ever the helper it seems," Harry smiled back, shaking his head at the hilarious spectacle. He felt calm having found her again.
"Christ Harry! What were you thinking?" Manners chastised, practically foaming at the mouth. "Hayley! You brought Hayley of all people. You can't take Hayley!"
"I can and I have. I'm Harry Osborn I can do whatever I like," he growled in agitation.
"Yes, but Harry, be smart! The paparazzi must have had a field day; you will both be front-page news! Again! Do you not understand that her professional standing will be compromised? People will question her ability to treat you, her ability – "
"You are missing the point Manners," Harry cut in sharply, "Hayley is mine and I can do whatever I please."
"You can't own a person Harry."
"Watch me."
Manners reeled at the confession, thinking about what Emily Baker had said previously, about ownership and possessive nature in erotic transference cases.
He watched Harry's eyes narrow dangerously as two men approached Hayley and a wobbly Karen, one putting his hand on the redhead's arm – a slight green tinge clouded Harry's usual icy blue irises.
"You might want to handle that Manners," he said darkly, nodding over to the girls. "That short man is an editor from The Daily Bugle. You wouldn't Hayley's professional standing to be comprised."
Harry stalked away from the lawyer and away from Hayley, choosing instead to ascend the large staircase that led to the other hotel rooms. He desperately wanted reclaim his girl and spend the evening showing her off, but he had other things to take care off.
During his little argument with the lawyer, Harry had noticed Mr Fiers standing in the shadows atop the staircase landing. His presence indicated that an important meeting was ready to begin.
And how could it start without its rightful leader?
Hayley was beginning to get bored.
The gala was beautiful, every thing she could have imagined and so much more.
But it sucked without Harry.
That's not to say that she was ungrateful for Karen having taken her under her wing. The blonde was really sweet and funny, nothing like the girls at Ravencroft at least. Hayley was overjoyed to learn that Manners had brought Karen as his date – that was two more familiar faces she could cling to. However, the lawyer had been sour the entire evening, not even offering any meaningful conversation like he usually did. Instead, it seemed he was determined to become as drunk as Karen, but not out of enjoyment and celebratory spirit. It was almost like he was drinking out of anger.
Hayley didn't know what was going on, only that a drunken lawyer was not a good look for Manners.
"Do you know where Harry went? He's been awhile," she asked sadly. Even though she was with friends, Hayley felt lost without him.
"Went upstairs…stupid rich idiot," Manners muttered irritably, frowning at his empty glass.
Karen gave him a small smack on his shoulder to which he frowned. "Don't be such a sour grumpy puss, Dave," she jokingly reprimanded before giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
Clearly they had overcome their employee boundaries.
Hayley was still shocked at hearing the blonde call Manners by his first name! No one called him that, like no one used Hayley's last name. It just sounded wrong.
"Go find your man, Hayley. I want to teach this one how to dance," Karen twittered loudly. The blonde then proceeded to drag a very disgruntled Manners onto the dance floor.
Standing alone was not an option, so Hayley decided to go on the hunt for the missing Osborn.
She had been walking up and down the winding corridors for a good thirty minutes. Every sound, every muffled conversation, Hayley would strain to listen in case she heard Harry's charismatic voice. There were so many white and gold numbered doors that she had lost count how many she'd pressed an ear to.
The hotel seemed to be endless and she was beginning to give up hope. She could feel blisters on her toes from the designer heels and even the light chain of her evening bag felt heavy. Searching blindly was not getting her anywhere, and after hearing the rude noises emanating behind one too many doors, Hayley decided to call it quits.
Turning quickly to go back the way she came, Hayley crashed into the body of a tall man.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry sir," Hayley quickly apologised.
A gentleman wearing a trench coat over his immaculate suit and a black fedora stepped back to survey the girl.
"Mr Osborn is in Room 136," the stranger spoke quietly, though his voice seemed so loud among the silent halls. "Always a pleasure bumping into you Miss Carmichael."
The man gave slight nod before walking away from her with purpose, clearly on his own mission. Hayley just stared as he got further and further away from her. She knew that man, didn't she? Didn't she recognise him from Ravencroft? With that hat, Hayley was unable to see his face, so instead decided to focus on what he had said.
Room 136…that sounded extremely familiar.
Rolling her eyes, Hayley couldn't believe how obvious a choice the room number was; it was the same as Harry's room at Ravencroft.
With renewed vigour, the redhead raced down the direction the stranger had come from. There was a corridor on her right that she had originally missed, hidden by a large plant and satin drapes, disguising a small T-junction in the otherwise straight hallway. No one would know it was there unless they were told. Obviously the corridor housed rooms for the wealthier more discreet guests.
Hayley batted away the curtain and followed the new passage until she finally found the bloody room.
136.
The door was ajar.
She could hear hushed voices, and one definitely sounded like her missing man. So Hayley decided to be brave and knocked.
"Harry?"
Even though there were five men in the dim room, no one turned in response to her voice. Except Harry.
He causally glanced at the redhead who was peeking round the door.
"Leave us," he ordered the men quietly, beckoning Hayley to enter the room properly.
The four strange gentlemen walked quickly past Hayley, shutting the door behind them. The darkness concealed any obvious features, their identities a mystery.
It was gloomy with only one lamp illuminating a small portion of the huge room. The little light there was cast strange shadows with Harry's silhouette appearing distorted and demonic like, high upon the wall behind him. Yet with the lamp directly before him, he seemed to have fire in his eyes and a warmth that she'd never seen before.
"People are asking for you downstairs, you wana head back?" she chirped, hoping to entice him with some pretend business possibilities. She just didn't want to admit he'd been missed.
"Why would I when I can be with you?" he replied, walking out of the light and away from the sofa, towards the girl.
Hayley spluttered, fiddling with her hands, not knowing what to say
"You look beautiful tonight, have I told you that?"
She nodded.
"Come here," Harry asked, a knowing smile on his face. He held out his hand and she took it when she was close. Instantly he tugged her closer, wrapping an arm round her slim waist. "Exquisite even," he purred gazing down at her.
Hayley's heart started to hammer in her chest like it always did when he was close, but this time she didn't know what to expect. He held her like they were going to start dancing the waltz. It felt strange, the two of them standing in the shadows.
Alone.
They had been alone before, many times in fact, however something felt different. It was like the air between them had shifted. Hayley felt like at any moment Harry was going to strike.
Slowly, so that she knew what he was doing, Harry adjusted their joined hands so that he could bring hers up and onto his shoulder. Then, with his hand now free, he stroked her cheek softly with his knuckles. His face was so close to hers that his breath tickled her nose. Using his fingers to guide her chin, Harry firmly held her face up and directed at him.
"I need you," he whispered darkly, "Please."
Closing her eyes, Hayley gave in to his constant tempting, finally accepting that she wanted him too.
Harry clung to her desperately, unable to conceal a groan now that her lips were on his once again. It had been so long and his need to taste her was agonising. He wanted to rediscover every single part of her. Every tentative tongue slip, every bottom lip tremble, was now his to own, to experience with his mouth once more.
Their kissing was slow, hesitant on her part, but nothing short of passionate. They melted against each other, fitting their body's close like connecting puzzle pieces. Hayley could feel herself getting more confident with every playful nip she received on her ready and needing lips.
And Harry was just as hungry.
His hand fell from her waist to grab at her ass, causing her to squeak against his lips. He chuckled, breaking their heated kiss so that they could finally breathe. Her eyes were wide like saucers again, gawking at him like she didn't trust herself to continue.
"Hayley?"
"I… -"
Harry pressed her closer into him, ever so slowly rolling his hips so that she could feel how tight his trousers were getting.
"- …I need you too."
That was all Harry ever wanted to hear.
His hands became more insistent now Hayley had given her permission, clutching at her back, needing more of her, just more. Harry began to get frustrated at how he was unable to touch her naked skin with the stupid dress on the wrong way. Growling, he dug his nails in causing Hayley to arch her back, her hips crashing into his arousal. She tugged at his floppy hair, mewling when he started to pepper her throat with kisses, as he slowly started bringing her closer to the sofa.
"I…I need you Harry."
"Don't tease me Ginge."
Hayley's eyes snapped open and she stared at the shadowy ceiling, hoping she did not hear what she thought she heard. Carefully, she tried to guide his head up and away from her heaving chest, desperate to check his eyes.
Harry chuckled and spun them around, his kisses becoming more demanding.
Maybe she just imagined it. Maybe the frustration coiling in the pit of her stomach was making her hallucinate. He was her perfect medicine because he made her forgot herself. He brought out the best in her.
"Ginge…do not…tease me…"
She pulled back in shock, the backs of her legs hitting the arm of the sofa. As she fell back, Hayley flung her arms, knocking the lamp to the floor. Her sudden movement brought Harry down with her, who tried to control their fall so he didn't hurt her.
"What did you say?" she asked anxiously, lying on her back upon the sofa, trying desperately to see his eyes. It was just too damn dark!
"I said, don't tempt me, Hayley," he rumbled, inching nearer to her body as he lay upon her.
Hayley sucked in her breath at hearing her name tumble over his demanding and hypnotic lips, his voice his own. Her head rolled back in ecstasy and she looked at the ceiling, praying to someone somewhere that she was doing the right thing.
Stroking her face, Harry kissed her more, wrapping his arm around the small of her back, lifting her millimetres off the sofa. Their bodies were so close it was almost too much, the heat was becoming unbearable. His free hand left her face, slowly working its way down the side of her body, stroking as he went. Settling his palm on the side of her breast, Harry used his long dextrose fingers to softly pull away the drape of her dress. Finally he was able to touch her naked skin, his ministrations eliciting small whimpering moans from his ginger doll.
"Harry…"
A slight smirk played across his lips as he kissed the column of her neck, slowly making his way down to her collarbones. Using his tongue, Harry tasted her delicate skin making Hayley arch up in response. One of her legs wrapped around the back of his own, squeezing him nearer in desperation of something…something she didn't know she needed until now. Harry slipped his hand more confidently over her bare breast, palming her gently.
"Oh…H…H…"
"Say my name Hayley," he said heatedly.
"…Harry…"
"Again."
"…Harry…"
"Louder," he insisted.
"…Harry…"
He stopped his demands to bite her lips, stealing her voice to claim her mouth once more.
"Again Hayley, say my name again," he commanded hotly.
"…Harry…"
"My other name."
"Ha…H… Mr Osborn?" she questioned, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"No. You know the one I mean."
Hayley froze, her eyes flashing open, her body rigid. Warning bells were ringing in her head and her heart rate soared, not from lust, but in fear.
He grabbed at her more harshly, annoyed that she'd stopped writhing beneath him.
Putting his mouth near to her ear he whispered, "You know you want to say it. I'll make you say it. I'll make you scream it. Don't deny me this pleasure, Ginge..."
This had to stop.
She couldn't play to his psychosis.
Regardless that Hayley was unable to see his eyes, she was certain that the Goblin had taken over. She had never ascertained whether or not Harry was present in his own mind when his monstrous Id emerged. He could be trapped, watching helplessly through green glazed eyes. Or, the Goblin could be fully dominant, with Harry lying dormant and unseeing. It was an aspect of his condition that she had never discovered an answer for.
Either way, Hayley's heart belonged to Harry, not the Goblin.
With his touch becoming rough and insistent, Hayley knew she'd have to act quickly to stop this escalating into something bad.
In the dark, she felt blindly on the floor for something, anything that might help her. Her demanding hands enclosed around something cold and chain like…
Using every bit of strength she had in her measly arm, Hayley flung her long forgotten evening bag up into the air by its chain, landing a firm blow against Harry's head.
"OW!" he yelped, snapping up and off of Hayley in reaction.
He clutched at the side of his head, rubbing it whilst squinting in the dark from his now kneeling position on the sofa. Then Harry looked down at Hayley who was breathing heavily.
"Are you ok, Harry?"
"You just smacked me in the head, so no!" he replied, completely flabbergasted. "What did you use? A brick?"
"My handbag actually."
"Is…Is everything ok? Are you alright?"
Hayley could practically hear the panic rising in his voice. Even in the gloom, his silhouette was hunched and deflated, his rejection almost palpable.
Shifting so that she was no longer flat on her back, Hayley reached up and placed a kind hand on his cheek. Immediately, Harry put his own over hers, grasping at her urgently. Maybe if he held onto her, then she'd stay with him.
"You…you didn't do anything wrong Harry," Hayley whispered firmly, choosing her words carefully. "I've never done…you're my fir…I just need some air is all," she said finally, "Besides, important people will be missing you."
Harry nodded reluctantly, stepping off the sofa and straightening his rumpled suit; she looked a vision even with the heat rash. Her dress had shifted quite a bit, unwrapping from her body like his personal birthday present.
Alas, this was one gift that would not be opened tonight it seemed.
He turned, giving her some privacy to sort herself, while he righted the fallen lamp. Her sigh of…what was that, relief maybe? Anyway it informed him that she had finished. Ever the gentleman, Harry cautiously held out his hand to help Hayley stand, still fearing rejection from an action as simple as that.
She accepted with a smile, hoping it would soothe the deep-rooted insecurities that were beginning to surface.
"You go on without me, I need to use the restroom," he insisted as she began to pull him over to the door. "You might want to find one too, you know, for the heat rash."
She looked embarrassed but nodded at his advice. Shyly, Hayley leaned up and gave him a small tentative peck, before turning to leave and exiting the room.
Harry stood and waited, feeling anger build up inside him. He grabbed the lit lamp and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. It smashed into a million pieces, plunging the room into total darkness.
"Fuck."
Don't hate me *hides under bedcovers* my Macbook died and was in repair for five days, practically had a heart attack! Also, they didn't have sex *sad face* - blame the Goblin!
This chap was originally much longer but it's length was too much for me to handle so I'm breaking it up, meaning the next chap will follow straight on in the story… I'm sorry, I feel so bad keeping you all waiting!
Anyway, I've put a playlist on my profile of music that inspires/goes with the story. These tracks may hold possible themes for previous/future chapters, or they might not, but they certainly relate to Harry and Hayley. Just a little something extra for you to enjoy in celebration of reaching Chapter 20! (I don't get anything from promoting these songs, I listen to them while I write, that is all.)
I love you all and I hoped you enjoyed this lengthy beast of a chapter XXX MUCH LOVE…
P.S. To my story request guests – I like the sound of it, definitely something I'd be interested in since I love Harley Quinn. I'd need to do a bit more research into the new 52 reboot, as getting comics in the UK sucks (take me to the US!) So I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no – it's a firm maybe :)