Neil Donovan is (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} incharge) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} doorslogs,@ 2012-10-06 22:31:00 |
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What: Dinner!
Where: The Osborn mansion.
When: Backdated to before Ainslie leaves town.
Warnings/Rating: Some internal creepy.
Gwen assumed that, even more than in her own home, the Osborns dressed for dinner. And so, instead of heading to the Chinatown lab after school on Friday, she went to her own home to change. Her mother wasn't home, and one of her brothers was blaring music so loudly that it kept her from being noticed, which was good; she didn't really want to talk about why she'd been away so much these days. Without her dad around, her mom had completely lost any control over the kids in the house, and everyone came and went when they wanted. It was so different than life when her dad was alive, and fights about where she'd been only reminded her of the fact that he was gone forever. She didn't like going home at all, but the clothes she had at the lab were school and hanging out clothes, nothing nice enough for dinner at the Osborns, and she didn't want to embarrass Harry; she knew how hard his dad could be on him.
A designer, classic black dress later, plus heels and hose, and Gwen arrived at the Osborn home, where she let the doorman know she was expected. She was nervous, but it wasn't for herself. She still remembered the conversations she'd overheard when she was a child on playdates with Harry, conversations where his dad was exacting and demanding in a completely different way than her own dad had been. The Stacys had once lived like this, but her father had chosen a different life and, while they were still very well off, it was nothing like this. And her father's expectations had never been what Norman Osborn's were for his son. But then Gwen was a girl, one with three brothers to carry on the family name. Her dad had taken an obsessive pride in her studies, expected an Ivy league school and a good marriage out of her, but he'd put the majority of the pressure on her brothers. So Gwen was nervous, yes, but not for herself, even if she hadn't seen Mr. Osborn during her entire time at Oscorp. She knew her way around a formal dinner as well as anyone who had been born into money, and she had the calm confidence that came from being raised by a disciplinarian parent. No, she was worried for Harry.
Harry, on the other hand, couldn't put a finger on why he was nervous. The Osborns didn't regularly have visitors. Things might have been different before his mother died, but he was too young to remember. The only person who graced their foyer in the past few years was the occasional business colleague from Oscorp.. and even those were a rarity. Not that there was anything wrong with cherishing your privacy. Harry understood that his father was a secretive man. Geniuses usually were. Even Harry tried not to question his father about work. It didn't seem like his place, and he rarely saw his father most evenings anyway. It was just habit to not ask, and that carried over to the moment when his father had asked for Gwen to come to dinner. Harry didn't question why, but rather dreaded that it had something to do with the stolen champagne, which he was still in the process of finding a replacement for.
Harry strode into the study while he buttoned the blue linen of his shirt for dinner. He poured some scotch from a decanter into a crystal tumbler before crossing floors of gleaming wood and oriental carpet on his way back to his room in order to finish getting dressed. He hadn't seen his father since returning home and supposed that if Norman was not already in his office, he would be home from work soon. He could have knocked on the office door to find out if his father was home or not, but it had been a long, long time since Harry disturbed his father while he was in his office.
A few minutes later, all Harry had accomplished was downing the scotch before he heard the sound of voices echoing from downstairs. Gwen and the doorman. Foregoing the matching tie he'd been scrounging around for, Harry made for the stairs to greet Gwen. The liquor helped in that this smile reached his eyes, unlike so many others, when he crossed to her. "Hey.." Rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, he glanced back up the stairs for a moment, listening for footsteps. Which, through much experience, Harry knew was pretty much impossible considering the expansive layout of the home. "My father should be joining us soon.. um, can I get you something to drink?" Swallowing, he found the energy to joke, "Besides champagne, I mean.."
Gwen never got used to seeing Harry nervous. He was never nervous at school, not around boys and definitely never around girls. When she was little, when her mother still attended the social gatherings that had been part of her life before marrying George Stacy, Gwen had experienced Harry's nervousness around his dad first-hand, but that had been so long ago, and it was easy to forget now that Harry had grown up. Easy to forget, too, how intimidating Norman Osborn could be, having not seen him since she was a little girl. Occasionally, she saw glimmers of that nervousness in Harry when he talked about his dad, and she never liked it. But she was here to calm things, not make them worse, so she gave him a smile that was playfully shocked and warm by turns. "Are you offering me an alcoholic beverage, Harry Osborn?" she asked, comfortable enough with him to step close and press a kiss to his cheek before stepping back again. The casual greeting giving her enough time to whisper in his ear. "It'll be fine."
Norman Osborn was most certainly not known for his generosity, hospitality, or any synonyms even remotely carrying the same meaning. He was a shrewd businessman, intelligent, ruthless, but he cared more about profit than philanthropy. Inviting a teenage girl over for dinner, whether she was a friend of his son’s or not, was thus a little uncharacteristic, but let them assume he’d had a change of heart. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he had extended the invitation in the first place. Harry should be more focused on his studies and academic success instead of some girl, even if Miss Stacy was a far better candidate than most of the teenagers his son associated with. He could have lied to himself, used what had happened to Gwen’s father because of that idiot Connors as an excuse, but it had much more to do with the voice in his head than any sense of misplaced guilt because Captain Stacy had to play hero and the webbed vigilante failed to save him.
The voice was a side-effect of the serum, the one that had reacted unexpectedly when he tested it upon himself, or so Norman chose to tell himself. Aside from that, the results were actually quite promising; his abilities were enhanced, and he possessed power no normal human had ever managed to tap into. It was just the voice that needed to be tweaked, to be removed, but the voice vehemently disagreed, insisting that it was a success, not a failure. It made him better. And it was the voice which had insisted he invite Miss Stacy over for dinner, the voice which seemed almost maniacally thrilled by her impending presence. Perhaps that should have concerned him, but it didn’t, not as much as it should have.
While usually punctual, Norman had been held up longer than expected as Oscorp, and as timing would have it, he descended the stairs in grey dress pants, an off-white dress shirt, and red tie just in time to see Gwen kiss his son’s cheek and whisper in his ear. The voice in his head cooed about how adorable it was, sickeningly-sweet, and Norman masked his disapproval with a smile as he took that last step onto the landing and made his presence known with a brief clearing of his throat. “Miss Stacy,” he greeted, all politeness, “I’m glad you could make it. You’ve certainly grown from what I remember.” Whether they were lies or not, he executed them smoothly, and extended a hand without missing a beat.
Harry's hands craved movement, something to discharge the energy that came from a palpitating heart. Despite the scotch, he was notably nervous. Half a bottle might have helped, something to plunge his brain into a fermented sea of devil-may-care warmth, but a single glass only whispered sweet nothings at his nerves. It hardly did the trick, but it did remind Harry that he really had no reason to be nervous. Gwen didn't make him nervous on most counts, aside from the occasional gut-clenching cravings for intimacy that struck him at odd moments. Absurd. Impossible. What the hell was wrong with him? Harry's conversation with Peter had done little to ease the weird, dislocated reality that he felt currently a part of. And even if Gwen was a little different - primarily from the death of her father - she was still the same. Just as he remembered.. maybe better. The kiss she gave to his cheek dislodged a grin from him. It couldn't be helped, and he ducked his head away to pay heed to her whisper before replying. "I know it's going to be fine, Gwen."
At that moment, his father's voice surged from behind, at the crest of the stairs. Harry turned to regard his father with a smile, "Hello, Dad."
Gwen took a respectful step back from Harry when she heard Mr. Osborn's voice. It was a careful step, not a spooked jerk that would indicate that she felt guilty about something. But there was still a blush in her cheeks at getting caught in the tiny intimacy by a parent. She didn't have to worry about those things with her own dad anymore, and a kiss on the cheek wasn't anything really, right? "I remember having to look up at you the last time I saw you, Mr. Osborn," she said with a smile that was as polite as the one he gave her. It wasn't a lie, either; she did remember tipping her blonde head back for ages in order to see Harry's father, who had never been the kind of man to get on the same level as a child.
She smiled over at Harry, and she almost reached out to squeeze his fingers reassuringly. The move, aborted as it was, was only evident to someone paying very close attention. She knew that Mr. Osborn, if he was anything like her dad, wouldn't appreciate his child needing someone else to bolster him up in his father's presence. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner," she added respectfully, with another smile in Harry's direction.
Most of the time Norman couldn’t be bothered to pay much attention to Harry, despite the fact that the boy was his son and, since his wife was long since dead, the only real remaining family he had left. He knew better than to make such apathy obvious with company present, however, and when necessary he was quite good at playing the part of the proud, doting father. Thus, the smile he gave his son was almost unnatural, certainly uncharacteristic, though to someone outside of their family dynamic it might simply appear to be the sort of affection a father should show his son. “Harry,” he greeted with a nod, before turning his attention back to little Miss Gwen. “I hope you two weren’t waiting long.” Oh, he noticed that step back, as he noticed just about everything, including the way she almost reached for his son’s hand. How precious. He did wonder, fleetingly, what she felt for him, and despite the fact that Norman rarely displayed much care for his son, the boy was his, and he did not take kindly to anyone who in any way caused harm to that which he thought of as such.
Perhaps Miss Stacy would not disappoint him, however. It would be such a pity if she did, and the voice, in a low, gleeful hiss, agreed.
“Time certainly does fly,” Norman remarked with a feigned sort of wistfulness. Norman never dwelled upon the past; it was pointless to do so. “As for dinner, Miss Stacy, it’s my pleasure.” He gestured towards the dining room, where dinner was already being prepared; he may not have been on time, but he was always one step ahead.
Many things could be said for Harry Osborn, and while not all of them were necessarily true, if there was one thing the young man had learned from his great father, it was how to put on appearances. Gwen's cheerful peck was an arrow of comfort through his heart, but the way she reached for his hand was not needed. Harry did not acknowledge the almost brush of her fingers, not with his eyes or any instinctive twitch of his hand, despite whatever body language his skin craved. The scotch helped, he found. It gave his chest a gentle, satisfied thrum of confidence, and Harry looked his father in the eye while Gwen and him got acquainted. He smiled because despite everything feeling like polite politics, his father had requested this dinner. His Dad's wanting to meet Gwen couldn't be a bad thing, and Harry naturally assumed that it had to do with giving condolences in regard to her father's passing. Following them into the dining room, Harry was silent when he pulled Gwen's chair out for her.
"We weren't waiting long at all, sir, thank you," Gwen said, throwing a look and a smile at Harry afterward. There was something about Harry's father that made her want to stand very close to Harry's side, which was irrational. She wasn't a scared girl, she reminded herself, and the only person's word she had for Harry's father turning into a supervillain was Flash; she didn't necessarily believe Flash. She was head of her class, and she had a bright future ahead of her - even if it looked like that bright future was going to take place at a public college now - and she wasn't at all intimidated. She was just having an off day, thanks largely to the phone call she'd had with Peter earlier.
She kept herself from walking too close to Harry as they entered the dining room, and she thanked him politely when he pulled the chair out for her. She took her seat primly, and she sat as a young woman trained in the social graces would. Her mother had been very insistent on teaching her children etiquette. Gwen had thought it a silly waste of time as a girl, but she was glad for that training now. She was fairly certain Mr. Osborn would notice anything she did wrong, and she didn't want to do anything wrong - for Harry's sake. "The science periodicals indicate Oscorp has recovered from recent incident, and that the laboratories are once again functional, Mr. Osborn," she said, managing the sentence without stumbling over the word incident. "I'm glad to hear that. The work being done there was amazing," she said, with the kind of reverence that only a true science geek could manage.
It was fortunate for Harry, really, that Norman had requested this dinner. Luck would have it that Miss Stacy’s presence prevented him from mentioning the phone call he’d received from his son’s school, informing him that he had skipped a school trip with some girl, and while the stolen champagne had been mere irritation, this transgression was much worse. Harry’s actions were a reflection on his father, on their name, and no Osborn would be some delinquent who needed a tutor and ran around skipping school. All he needed was for people to start talking about Norman Osborn’s son gallivanting around with some meaningless teenager, just like all the rest. For now, however, he was all smiles and proud father, playing the role of the gracious host. Perhaps Gwen Stacy might be a good influence on the boy, if nothing else.
He watched as Harry pulled out the girl’s chair for her, and the mocking laughter that echoed within his mind became friendly and amused once it left his lips. “My son, the gentleman,” Norman remarked, as though proud of the boy’s consideration for his guest. While it wasn’t obvious, he studied the way Gwen behaved, and the part of him which placed importance upon etiquette approved. Clearly, she had been well taught. He took the seat across from the two of them, on the opposite side of the table, as the staff bustled about around them. “We have,” he agreed, folding his hands together and setting them on the table. “I regret that what occurred ever came to pass, but Oscorp is focused on the future now, on moving forward. We hope to continue with our amazing work,” he said with a smile. To him, Oscorp was more I than we, but mentioning that would be unwise. Just as no one ever needed to know about his side project, about the serum, about what went on behind closed doors.
“Have you given any thought to returning?” It was a casually asked question, almost careful. “I understand, of course, if it would be too difficult, after... what happened,” he said tactfully. Usually, Norman despised sympathy. He cared very little for anyone other than himself, and aside from the complications that Captain Stacy’s death had brought, he hadn’t mourned the man’s death. Gwen didn’t need to know that, however, and his expression became appropriately grave considering the subject matter he was tiptoeing around.
Just that single blip of approval at such a simple gesture, pulling out a chair. Harry canted his head toward his father with a smile, a kaleidoscope of pride and warmth at how high spirited his father seemed to be. Harry, more than anyone, knew that his father was a great man. He was changing the world through revolutionary science that Harry could only hope to one day follow in the footsteps of. Maybe Norman Osborn had a tendency to be quick and dismissive at times behind the closed doors of the Osborn home, but Harry attributed those kinds of things to being overworked and overstressed. And just that one compliment, so offhand, could wash away it all. My son, the gentleman...
Harry's grin was wide when he took a seat alongside Gwen and unfolded one of the linen napkins out a preemptive and traditional habit, even as the conversation turned to matters of Oscorp and Gwen's potential return. Shifting in his chair, he looked to her with genuine peer pressure. "You really should, Gwen. You love science, and interning at Oscorp could bring you opportunities like none other." Reaching forward to take a sip of mineral water that was freshly poured by a passing member of staff, Harry swallowed before gesturing toward his father. "Maybe you could work under my father as an assistant on a project.." Maybe it was the double scotch talking that made him prompt such a suggestion, one that very well might have been out of line as it did not concern himself in the least.
Mr. Osborn was so polite, and Harry looked so much less stressed than he had a few minutes earlier, and it made Gwen relax a lot. It wasn't obvious she'd been nervous in the first place, but she had been, and her smile was brighter as she listened to Mr. Osborn talk about the future of Oscorp. Oscorp had assured her a position in one of the top Ivy schools in the country after graduation. Her grades had helped, but she knew it was the reference letters from Oscorp, and the impressive amount she had learned while she was there, that had tipped the scales in her favor. That Ivy school didn't look like an option anymore, not at the speed her mom was drinking and spending her way through her dad's life insurance, but that didn't mean she couldn't apply for a scholarship once the money was gone. Going back to Oscorp would help with that and, admittedly, Harry's pressuring expression made her want to agree all the more. Maybe if she hadn't fought with Peter that afternoon, she would have been more cautious about all of it. But she had fought with Peter, and Harry was back to being at the top of the list of people she could talk to about things.
"I would love to return, Mr. Osborn. Thank you," Gwen said, unfolding her own napkin and setting it on her lap. She smiled over at Harry, and it was a girlish smile, even with a bit of a blush at the extreme suggestion. She wanted to contradict him, to say she was too green to ever work that high up in the company, but she didn't want to disagree with him, not when he was making recommendations of his own. "I'd be happy to work on whatever I can," she said instead, giving Harry a grateful smile, and unthinkingly reaching out to squeeze his fingers across the long expanse of table. It was still properly done - no elbows on the table, no reaching without leaning at the waist - but it was, undoubtedly, a gesture of affection. She would still stay with Dr. Banner at the lab, she reasoned, and work there when she wasn't at Oscorp. She was only doing a half day of classes, so it shouldn't be too much. She'd make it work somehow, if the opportunity really panned out.
Any normal parent would have felt warm and fuzzy inside if their child had looked at them the way Harry looked at him just then, but Norman was not a normal parent, and all he felt was minor irritation for the boy’s blatant ignorance. No matter. Let him think he had gotten away with his little adventure for now; what harm could it do? Gwen would see that they had a perfectly happy dynamic, and perhaps word would get out; he did so hate being lectured when it came to the topic of his son and how to raise him-- or how to not raise him. At the very least, he enjoyed Harry’s enthusiasm on the topic of the girl returning to Oscorp. She was a smart one, yes, maybe too smart for her own good, but better to keep those types close, where he could keep an eye on her, and ensure she only saw what he wanted her to see. The prospect of Gwen working under him was something else entirely, however, and had it not been for their guest, the warmth and approval in Norman’s expression would have have hardened into something different very, very quickly.
Don’t be so hasty to say no, Normie, the voice scolded. She was involved in Connors’ little mishap somehow, you and I know that. You want to keep her close... then keep her close, know what I mean? Despite the fact that listening to a voice within his mind was likely to get him committed should anyone ever know about it, Norman found himself contemplating the point it raised. It would be nice if his own son showed such enthusiasm for Oscorp, but it was not something he expected from the boy. “That’s certainly an idea,” he agreed, not wanting to make impulsive decisions; any good businessman knew better. “As I said, you always showed great potential, Miss Stacy. Oscorp could use young, fresh minds like yours. If you’d like to return, we would be more than happy to have you.”
That little gesture of affection didn’t go unnoticed, and while the voice chortled gleefully, Norman simply watched with a very fatherly, knowing twitch of his lips. “Perhaps Harry might show more interest in the company with you around,” he added. Usually, he would have said such a thing in a tone which suggested disappointment, but this time, a change of his tone was all it took to turn it into something good-natured and light, not at all meant to be taken seriously.
Despite the genial tone of his father's quip, Harry felt a soft barb in his chest that Gwen's reassuring squeeze did nothing to relieve. Harry was interested in Oscorp. He was Norman Osborn's son and by traditional birthright, the company would be his own one day. Although in the past couple of years a grave depression had settled over Harry, making him all too aware of the disappointment he'd become in his father's eyes. His GPA said it all, even before he'd started foolishly skipping classes and field trips. Once upon a time, he'd tried. He'd tried desperately while people like Peter Parker and Gwen hardly seemed to try at all. In the last year, his GPA had dropped from a 3.6 to a 3.1.. and Harry knew that while his father might not have been embarrassed of his only son's shortcomings, it was really nothing to be proud of. Getting the energy to try was exhausting when it didn't matter, when he'd never be good enough or at the top of his class. Besides, it was senior year, why try at all? College could be a fresh start.
Realizing that he'd been staring at his father for an uncomfortable term of silence, Harry took a fresh sip of water. "Of course, I'm interested in the company, Dad. It's all you've ever worked for, and all I could hope to work for." Running Oscorp was a dream, but a terrifying one. What if he failed? What is stocks plummeted overnight? What if...
Harry dropped his hands away from the table top and into his lap, unsure of what the attention his father had cast upon Gwen's fingers brushing his meant. Out of sight, out of mind.
Gwen took Mr. Osborn's comments at face value at first, and she smiled brightly when he told her the position at Oscorp was hers if she wanted it. "I'd love to come back, Mr. Osborn. I can start whenever is convenient for you. I've completed the highest level available in most AP classes at Midtown, so I'm only attending half days for my senior year. I've been helping out in a small lab across town in the afternoons, but they'll understand that the opportunity to return to Oscorp is too good to pass up." Right then, she was all genuine enthusiasm to get back to science that made a real difference. It wasn't that working for Dr. Banner wasn't great, but most of her time lately was spent on the Venom problem, and Oscorp's labs would be so much better to look into that on her free time. Dr. Connors had always let her do whatever she wanted in the lab, entrusting her with more than any other intern in the company.
The thought of Dr. Connors sobered Gwen slightly, and that influx of reality made her realize that there was more going on in the conversation than she'd originally noticed. It was Harry's insistence that he was interested in the company that really brought it to her attention, because it was tinged with the need to clarify and defend. She watched Harry slide his hand back under the table, and she wondered if she'd crossed a line herself. She just folded her hands in her lap, and she smiled at Mr. Osborn again. "Harry talks about his future in Oscorp all the time, Mr. Osborn," she said, and there was nothing but truth in the words. Mostly she and Harry joked about her corner office and her being his top scientist one day, but Mr. Osborn didn't need to know that. He only needed to know his son was interested.
Everyone, save for Norman himself, would agree that the CEO of Oscorp had unrealistic expectations which were not limited to, but seemed more heavily focused upon, his son. Most peoples’ lives revolved around their children, their family, but not Norman; the company was his life, and he loathed the thought of one day being forced to hand it over to someone else. Harry had potential, he could admit that much, but he showed none of the traits Norman thought necessary in order to run the company. He was too soft, not driven enough, and certainly not willing to do whatever it took to succeed. Power came at a cost, and Norman was willing to pay it a thousand times over. He didn’t have that same faith in his son. In a way, he thought the boy was too good to ever survive in the sort of cutthroat world Norman belonged to and sought to reign over, one way or another.
But every so often, Norman would reconsider and give his son what amounted to his version of a chance. He was his only heir, after all, and if not him, who would Oscorp go to? Immortality wasn’t an option (yet, the voice interjected) and the boy had his blood. He tilted his head to the side and regarded Harry during the silence, wondering if it would be the ultimate test for his son to show an actual interest in how the company was run with Gwen around. Loyalty was also key, and the girl could be a useful pawn in proving--or disproving--just how much of that Harry possessed as well. He turned his attention to her first, a smile tugging on his lips in the face of her enthusiasm. Perhaps Connors had trusted her, but Connors proved to be an idiot who wasn’t cut out for the kind of scientific advancements Oscorp was capable of. Norman knew better than to give Gwen free reign, but the illusion of it could prove to be enlightening. “You can come by in a few days. Ask for me downstairs.” He quirked a brow, curious about her little side job at this lab she kept mentioning. “What small lab would that be?” Not that it mattered, he supposed; very few laboratories could compete with Oscorp.
Then he shifted his focus back to Harry, listening to Gwen’s insistence that his son talked about his future at Oscorp ‘all the time’. In reality, Norman hardly appreciated what he saw as an implication that he was unaware of what his own son was interested in, but in a performance he thought would undoubtedly be award-winning, arranged his expression into something almost apologetic. “I wasn’t aware that was how you felt, Harry,” he told his son. “I have been too preoccupied lately. Perhaps I should have paid more attention.” He wanted to choke on the words, on such soft, weak garbage, but he needed the facade to be believable.
Harry appreciated Gwen's continued appraisal of Harry's interest in Oscorp, although he was uncertain it would do anything to faze his father's detached tunnel-vision when it came to what Harry was capable of(namely, very little). In a show of solidarity and thanks, he slid a hand over to where hers had gathered over the napkin in her lap, a little squeeze of thanks before he pulled away.. not wanting to linger and make things any weirder than Harry sometimes felt that they were. Mostly, he felt the awkwardness in talking with Peter. He avoiding Parker almost entirely at school, which was easy as they had no classes together. Pete, like Gwen, had gone above and beyond the glass ceiling of Midtown High, to the point that sometimes it seemed like the teachers were the ones trying to keep up with them. That definitely wasn't the case for Harry, and for the dozenth time this evening, he was again struck by how perfect Gwen and Peter were for one another. The guilt was cloying.
The gentleness in his father's voice was unexpected, there seemed like a better chance of lightning striking the table that that kind of sincerity coming from his father. Which wasn't fair, his father was a sincere man. Harry liked to remember his father as someone caring and interested in Harry's own life, but that seemed like a long time ago. It wasn't that his father was cold and dismissive of Harry, he was just.. an understandably busy man. "Everyone knows Oscorp is the future, father." Harry's smile was genuine, proud of all that his father had accomplished over the years, despite certain losses and hardships. "I want to be a part of that future."
"I'll come by midweek, after class," Gwen said, her enthusiasm for the offer Mr. Osborn was making entirely genuine. "I've been helping Dr. Banner. His area of expertise is gamma radiation, which isn't nearly as interesting as the work being done with mutagenic chemicals at Oscorp," she said, giving away that Dr. Connors had shared more with his intern than was strictly necessary, especially without a formal non-disclosure agreement. She considered mentioning Peter's interest in the subject, because it would be an even more amazing opportunity for Peter than for her. His grades had slipped since he'd been bitten by that irradiated spider at Oscorp, and he definitely need to be able to earn a scholarship to go to college, since his grades weren't quite enough to compete with hers any longer. But she kept her mouth shut, and it was largely because of that one hint of suspicion that Flash had cast on Mr. Osborn.
When Harry's hand slid over hers beneath the table, she smiled and looked over him, an open book that gave away precisely what he had done. Her fingers closed around his, and she felt a sense of loss when they slipped away again. She kept her silence as Harry assured Mr. Osborn about his interest in the future of Oscorp, because that was a conversation between them. Like Harry, she believed that gentless in Mr. Osborn's voice, and she thought maybe things would be better after this dinner. She gave Harry a smile that said See? I told you it would be okay, and she politely thanked the servant who began to set her meal in front of her. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Osborn. It looks wonderful." It reminded her of the formal dinner her own dad insisted they have as a family during the week, a practice forgotten in the months since his death.
Any bright-eyed, overeager kid could feed the head of Oscorp the same lines about his company being the future, but Norman didn’t think his son was capable of that kind of deception. Not where he was involved, at least. It took a special kind of person to look Norman Osborn in the eye and lie, or even so much as feed him a line or two, and Harry just wasn’t cut from that cloth. Hell, maybe the kid was sincere. With a lack of actual competent successors and encouragement from the voice, whispers of maybe the kid’s not such a lost cause after all and just think, we can make him like us, his mind was made up. And, if Harry ended up disappointing him, as he often did, he would be right back where he started. No worse off at all. “As you should be,” Norman said, and the words should have been accompanied by a maniacal laugh, or perhaps some sort of foreboding, but instead there was a feigned warmth that hid anything untoward.
As for Gwen, Norman listened to her description of what this Dr. Banner was working on with polite, rather than genuine, interest, and he gave no outward reaction to her little slip that hinted at just how much Connors had shared with his precious intern. An idiot, yes, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He was simply going to have to keep an eye on her in the future. “I see,” he remarked offhandedly. “Midweek after class it is, Miss Stacy.” Usually, Norman paid even less to his hired help than he did the rest of the world, including his own son, and he could tell the servants setting down their meals were surprised by the lack of criticism and sharp, snapped demands that were simply part of the package when one worked for Norman Osborn. He did hate playing nice, but unfortunately, there were times when it was in his best interest to do so. “You’re more than welcome, but I can hardly take credit for the food. I’m a terror in the kitchen.” He wanted to grimace at the words, even as he said them, and imagined biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood and the taste of iron and copper as he plastered on a smile and began to eat.
"It's true," Harry smiled over the lip of his water glass while taking a sip of the carbonation. "I can't remember my father ever taking his chances in the kitchen," and while Harry's tone was light and jovial, it had the potential to bring up bad memories if he let it. Which Harry wouldn't, he plowed ahead. Although the revival of the internship seemed to be agreed upon by both Gwen(enthusiastically) and his father(with a smile that Harry wished he saw more of), the golden son really could help but to continue the discussion in Gwen's favor rather than letting the subject fall away. Maybe the scotch was the blame, he seemed absolutely soaring and almost nerveless when compared to how the evening had initially begun. Addressing his father from across the table, Harry leaned forward with a fervent admission. "Gwen has the highest GPA in school," Harry did not think that it was a lie. She had once, and if her grades had slipped due to what happened with her father, Gwen could hardly be blamed.
"She could easily be one of your head scientists one day," caught off guard when one of the servants reached beneath his forward lean to deposit a china plate of prepared food, Harry pulled back. He meant to murmur a thank you, but by the time he lifted his head, the man was gone. Blinking back the matters of the table, he cast a shy blue glance Gwen's way with another admission, "I'm lucky she takes the time to tutor me."
Gwen's grades hadn't dropped even a fraction of a decimal, but she didn't say that. She could tell that Harry was using her as a way to impress his dad, and she didn't begrudge him that, not after drinking champagne that had cost $20,000. And, in truth, she liked seeing Harry smiling like that. She hadn't seen that smile from Harry since they were kids and, even if he was trying too hard, it was endearing. She smiled back, a smile that was happy youth and completely unaware of the troubles they both had for that moment. It wasn't logical but, great GPA and all, Gwen made some very emotional choices on occasion - like dating a spider.
The statement that she could be one of Oscorp's leading scientists one day made her blush, but Gwen didn't put herself down or say it wasn't true. "That's going to take a long time," she said instead, "and there will a lot of competition." Her voice said she wouldn't shy away from any challenge like that, though, no matter how daunting or scary it seemed. "By then, you'll be working with your dad, Harry," she added with the same certainty, the same conviction he didn't have in his own abilities to do that. "I'd tutor you even if you didn't mean it," she added as an aside, a whisper, because Mr. Osborn had been so nice that she didn't think he'd mind her teasing Harry a tiny bit.
Norman would have preferred to hear his son brag about himself, of course; highly unlikely, but the highest GPA did him no good unless it was an Osborn who’d achieved it. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, making a vague sound of acknowledgement instead. His child was so much of a disappointment that a teenage girl managed to achieve more than he had, or could, and he wondered if Harry felt any shame at all for the prospect of needing a tutor. Ah, but he was trying to play nice, and he was trying to give the boy a chance. Someone needed to motivate him, and he consoled himself with the possibility that Gwen might be the missing link. He’d keep her around, so long as she still proved useful.
“Harry is lucky,” Norman agreed, because that much was true. It was embarrassing enough to receive a phone call from school about his son’s juvenile behavior, and to hear about his tutoring, but failing his subjects would be something else entirely... something Norman wouldn’t have accepted, period. “A little healthy competition is good, Miss Stacy,” he told her, and he didn’t need to feign interest in this particular topic. “It’s never too early to start thinking about the future. Success only comes through hard work.” She didn’t seem the sort to back down from a challenge, however. If only Harry shared that particular trait. He’d reached the point in the evening where his mind was wandering to the scotch in his liquor cabinet, since teenagers were best handled in small doses and he had a long list of other, more important things he could be doing, which meant he dismissed Gwen’s teasing whisper as trivial and paid little attention to it.
Although dinners with his father had become an infrequency over the years as Oscorp bloomed into the scientific leader of the world.. and while others might have taken this opportunity and run with it for a wild dive into teenage rebellion and independence, Harry longed for this to be a more regular event. That was why he did not turn down his father's suggestion about inviting Gwen over - despite his own fears that the missing champagne was the basis of his father's invitation and that this entire meal would be but a stage of ridicule and lesson in manners. Tonight was none of that, and Harry(who was still riding the immortal fearlessness that came with a heavy double glass of ancient scotch), felt successful. Even if he hadn't prepared the meal or brought upon them the proposal for dinner, the fact that his father seemed in genial(at least more so than usual) spirits gave Harry a sense of accomplishment. That boyhood pride, the one he invented himself when he long ago learned that he couldn't expect to hear the words from his own father. You did good, Harry.
Lifting his crystalline goblet of sparkling mineral water, Harry opted for a toast as he could sense his father loosing steam over interest in the meal.. their own dinner, when it was just the two of them rarely lasted this long. Not when there was so much work and brilliance to be forged behind closed doors. "To Oscorp's future," blue eye searched his father's face expectedly, praying to find agreement in the smallest of gestures.