Who: Harry Osborn & Remy LeBeau What: After arriving in OC, he flies back out to NYC to meet Harry. When: August 17th, Around 11pm Where: New York City! Rating/Warnings: PG13 for Language and a small Fade To Black. Status: Completed GDoc
Remy wasn’t entirely surprised that Harry had sent the jet for him.. in fact, he may have been disappointed (read: definitely would have been disappointed) if the jet hadn’t been sent. So really, he expected it.
He’d been at the little private airport as the jet had arrived, boarding with the guidance of the pretty woman on the runway, and tossing his overnight bag down at the foot of one of those plush leather seats. Flicking on the television, he got comfortable for the two hour ride. As they were nearing the city, he’d called up to the pilot to tell him not to alert Mr. Osborn that they would be arriving twenty minutes ahead of schedule. He wanted to surprise him, maybe catch him a little off guard. Remy did so love being unpredictable-- only it was predictable that he’d be unpredictable and that made him, sadly, predictable. It was a vicious cycle.
As the plane landed, he’d snag his duffle from the ground and come down the stairs with a deep breath and a smile. He loved New York, the Southern boy had spent most of his time, understandably, down South. So any time he could get to a big city like this one, he took the opportunity.
Was he disappointed to find Harry wasn’t at the airport? Yes. Was he disappointed it was just a black sedan with a driver in a suit, instead of a limo? Duly. But he knew that had to be on purpose. Damn Harry.
Climbing into the car, he’d sit back and stare out the window as they drove on through the brightly lit city. He’d climb out when the car stopped and the door was opened for him. It didn’t take long for him to be shown into the building and he was given a comfortable spot to relax while Harry was informed of his arrival.
So much for surprises.
And in retaliation? Well, he’d play Tetris while he waited. Take that, Harry. He was going to be just as disinterested in seeing you as you were in seeing him. Even though you’d sent a jet in the middle of the night and he’d climbed aboard without batting an eye.
***
Harry had been quite surprised, actually, when he’d gotten the random text from Remy. Honestly, if things weren’t on a pretty nasty downward spiral right now, he’d have beyond happy. And he still is happy, in a way. Having Peter around was great and all, but Remy was a friend who just … Understood things better. He got Harry’s way of life, and he just knew Harry. So of course he sent the jet for Remy.
Harry had decided to be a bit sassy, though. For old time’s sake. Remy would have to deal with the informal car and the long drive through the city, and, just for kicks, would have to wait a bit. When Harry finally deemed it an appropriate time to go down to see him, his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Hey. You got in early.”
***
Oh, like it was some sort of surprise that he’d arrived early. Remy knew that shady driver had contacted Harry and let him know they were on their way. Touche, Harry.
So when the younger man appeared, the Cajun would tuck his phone away in a smooth, though slow motion, then draw long legs in and push to stand, straightening his blazer and buttoning the top button to keep it closed. He didn’t bother with the loose tie or the undone buttons at the top of his dress shirt. A little informality was alright in this situation. It was Harry, after all.. and if Remy ever considered someone worthy of being a friend, it would be this particular young man.
“Oui.” Agreed in a crisp tone, a few lazy steps in those seven hundred dollar Italian leathers, and he’d be that much closer to Harry, extending out a hand for a greeting. “The wind was with us.” The simple explanation for the early arrival.
Then the smile came, slow and sure like the plague spreading across Europe. Unlike Harry, it would reach his eyes. It always did. Remy LeBeau didn’t smile unless it could be passed off for the real thing, which made it difficult to tell what was a Politician’s Smile and what was a Genuine Smile.
This was genuine as they got.
***
Harry just snorted, shaking Remy’s hand loosely in greeting. When he dropped it, he let his shoulders sag a bit and he sighed, running a hand down his face.
“Do you want a drink? And pizza, obviously. I’ll order some from this great place. You’ll love it. It’ll make the trip totally worth it.” He motioned for Remy to follow him up to a more private area, not unlike a penthouse in the way it was set up. “Dad keeps Scotch everywhere. But I’m sure sure I can find something else if you’d like.” Harry had already begun to take the lid off the expensive liquor, though, pouring a glass for himself and then hovering it above another glass. “Or, you know, water. If you’re feeling responsible still.”
***
“I’ll take a double.” His retort to this ‘responsible’ nonsense. He had trailed lazily behind Harry, up into the more private areas of the house, and long fingers drug casually across walls, picture frames, furniture-- everything. He just had to touch things. Maybe he needed to go see a therapist about that particular compulsion.
Yeah right.
“You look like shit.” He would finally say as he rounded the room and brought his eyes back to the young man pouring the liquor. He wanted to ask if he could do something, he wanted to ask what would help, he wanted to have the right words to make a real smile appear on Harry’s face. But that would be dangerous territory and Remy had been steering away from that for years. They weren’t friends, they were.. close acquaintances. Future partners in business, surely. They were useful to one another.
Remy wouldn’t let himself forget that.
***
“Gee, thanks. Always knew how to charm a guy.” Harry poured out a glass for Remy and turned around, handing it over. As for himself, he leaned against the counter and took a long drink, which he promptly topped up.
“I feel like shit,” he said, deciding to go the honest route. “This … Disease or whatever my dad has, it’s spreading faster than they thought it would. And it’s … I don’t know. There’s a chance I might have it, too. Or something.” Harry shrugged. He looked into his glass, focusing on the drink than on Remy. “I don’t know. It’s all levels of messed up right now.”
Coming back to himself, Harry took out his cellphone and did a quick search for the pizza place’s phone number. Not giving Remy any time to reply, he called them up, ordering a large pizza with everything and some bread sticks because why not.
***
It was a good thing Harry had prevented him from speaking when that information was dished out, he could have said something he’d have regretted. The ordering of pizza gave him time to collect himself, consider this new knowledge and flesh out a proper reply.
Of course, when Harry looked up at him after hanging up the phone, all of that went pretty much out the window. But at least he’d had time to consider a more sensible answer.
“You’re fine.” The words so firm and decisive that it hardly left room to argue. As if he’d seen into the future and knew, with no small amount of certainty, that everything was going to be fine. Why? Because Remy LeBeau had spoken and his word was law, that was why. Reality would bend to his whims as it always had. And wouldn’t it be nice if things worked like that?
“You,” he would say, lifting his glass and extending a finger to point at him, “Are perfectly healthy.” Another definitive statement, before he took a drink from his glass, knocking most of it back and lowering it again.
“And that pizza had better be worth the trip.” The rest of the scotch was knocked back seconds later. He was going to need another.
***
Harry cracked another smile, this one accompanied by a laugh. He took another drink from his own glass. “Thanks,” he said. He meant it, too. Of course it was ridiculous. All the signs where there and if Harry was going to believe the dreams, it was going to happen soon. But it was nice that Remy was so adamant about it not being fact.
“If you don’t like the pizza, then you can head right back to Orange County. If you can find a way home, I mean. I can’t just send my jet willy-nilly across the country.” Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked a little as he moved past Remy to sit on a sofa.
“So. Go on, then, tell me everything I’ve been missing in your life. I’m sure you’re just dying to brag about something.”
***
Of course it was ridiculous. Remy simply wouldn’t allow it to be so. So it couldn’t be. The End. If only every could be so confident about everything-- well, better they not be. That could have a terrible ending for all involved.
Turning to watch Harry move past him and for that sofa, he’d set a hip into that expensive liquor bar and pour another drink. This time, he’d nurse it.
“Well I can’t fly commercial, so I guess I’ll like the pizza.” He would take the time to study Harry from his spot near the bar, taking in the way he moved, the lines of his body, the slouch in his shoulders. He looked.. well.. he looked worn down. Maybe a little defeated. Maybe a lot defeated. He didn’t like the feeling that twisted his stomach.
“Well, I’m about four months away from a Ph.D. That means you’ll have to call me Doctor.” Another smile curled his face and he began to slowly make his way towards the sofa, stalking slow like some sort of great jungle cat. “But I’m bored with it already and I’m not sure I’m going to bother to finish.” Yeah right, he didn’t get that far with something and then not follow through, it just wasn’t his style.
“And there’s this little company I’ve had my eyes on..” He wrinkled his nose up as if thinking about it were distasteful. “Has some punk kid about to take over completely.. been thinking about swooping in and taking it for my own.” Jabs, of course. Teasing. Good natured, all of it.
***
Harry made a face. The thought of devoting enough time to anything to get a Ph.D. made absolutely no sense to him. Hell, he didn’t even bother trying university after finishing school. Much to his father’s chagrin. But Harry was pretty convinced that he was smart enough to get by without it, so why waste the time? Let other people throw away a few years of their lives.
“I’m not going to call you doctor,” Harry said, giving Remy a pointed look. “Not when I know you’d like it so much.” He sunk further into the cushions of the couch, getting cozy. His eyes watched his friend move around, noting the nearly predatorial movements. Typical, Harry thought.
“Oh yeah?” He hummed, but he couldn’t hide his amusement. “I think I heard about that somewhere. I don’t know, I think it’d be too much company for you to handle.”
***
“Oui,” He agreed on the tail end of that hum, his smile spreading wider. He would continue walking until they were near enough that his knees impacted with Harry’s gently, towering over him as he sat there on that couch.
“Y’ think so?” Remy finished off the last of that Scotch in a quick drink and leaned down to set the glass ever so gently on the table beside the couch, bringing his face unprofessionally close to Harry’s in the process.
“I don’t know. I hear the kid’s sort of a pushover.”
***
Harry didn’t even blink at the closeness. He tipped his chin up to look Remy in the eye, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I think you’re getting misinformation. You might want to check your sources.” Harry poked a finger into Remy’s chest before finishing off his own drink. He set the glass next to Remy’s and leaned back once more.
“But I guess I can forgive you for your ignorance this time.”
***
The finger poke was all the invitation the Cajun needed, his smile spreading out again as Harry said he’d forgive him for his ignorance.
“How can I ever make it up to you?” More quietly asked as he leaned in, turning his face enough that he could brush the corner of his mouth against the younger man’s cheek. “I feel so terrible about it.” A slow, Southern drawl near Harry’s ear.
It was a load of shit and they both knew it, but it was fun.
***
Harry couldn’t help but let out a slight sigh. He never considered himself the sort that needed to seek comfort in others. His father had taught him how to hold his own well enough, and Harry liked being independent. But this, he thought, he could make an exception for. This was a time when he was allowed to want to curl up and have someone else deal with the world.
“You could start by being a gentleman and getting us some more drinks,” Harry replied. He wasn’t about to be easy or anything. There was a tradition of playfulness to uphold, and they both enjoyed the little power struggle.
***
The power struggle was what made it so alluring and deliciously fantastic. The playfulness kept it fun. And Harry kept it good.
“Your wish is my command.” Joked lightly near his ear, before he pulled back and collected both of their glasses, allowing a slow stroll to bring him back to the bar where he’d pour two doubles for them both. Settling the expensive bottle back down, he’d take up both glasses and turn to face Harry again.
“Peter seems very nice.” He didn’t want to talk about Peter-- but he had to use something to fill the space, something to make it seem like he wasn’t as eager as he was.
***
Well, Peter hadn’t exactly been the topic that Harry thought was going to come up. But he shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah. He’s great, actually. Crazy smart. His dad used to work with mine before … I don’t really know what happened. I think the Parkers died in an accident. Peter and I used to play together while our dads worked.”
He reached for the glass of scotch, all the while giving Remy a pointed look. “I saw your thread with him on the network. Don’t even think about trying to give him a job. I’m already having a hard enough time trying to lure him away from the sparkle of Stark, I don’t need to deal with you, too.”
***
Oh, Harry knew exactly where his mind was going and the Cajun couldn’t help but laugh in response, taking slow, measured steps over to the young man on the couch and extending down the glass with a smile. Really, the look on his face gave his eyes a twinkle and he lifted his eyebrows in a clearly suggestive manner.
“I don’t have a big, fancy tower in the area to dazzle him with.” He’d hold onto the glass as Harry took it, unwilling to give it up just yet. “It’ll be easy for him to tell me no. We’re having lunch on Tuesday.” Leaning in, he’d bring his face intimately close to the Osborn Heir’s once again. “Mssr. Stark told me I could find people here that would be good. He was right.” And now he wanted Peter.
Because he was one hundred percent sure he wasn’t going to have sex with Peter if he was his Pepper Potts.
***
Rolling his eyes, Harry took the glass from Remy. In the long run, it made little difference to him. Peter was an asset any company would be glad to have, but Peter was still going to school and any job he found now would just be the starting point on an illustrious resume. And, if it were Harry, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to work for a good friend. Still, there was a possessiveness there that he couldn’t shake. Remy had a way with people and Harry didn’t want to suddenly become less cool because of him.
“Peter can’t say no to anyone. You might as well just bring the paperwork with you and he’ll sign it over appetizers. Try not to go someplace with too many forks.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He was trying to maintain a certain level of playfulness, though his mind kept wandering to the issues he’d have to deal with come morning. It sort of defeated the purpose of having Remy there as a distraction. Harry put a hand on Remy’s chest to hold him a little bit away, so he could take a long drink from his glass, then he pulled the other young man back in.
“I think our pizza’s here.”
***
He could have just said that, could have just told the Cajun, and Remy might have decided to simply let it go. As it was, the kid seemed smart. And he could certainly use the help. It would all depend on how much he liked him once he met him.
“He might not even be a good fit.” Remy insisted with a smile, though he’d allow himself to be pushed away, then pulled back in. He loved it when Harry played hard to get, then toyed with him. It was all part of their little game. But something seemed off tonight.
“I’ll go get it.” It would give Harry a bit of time to consider. To think.
It’d be five minutes before the red-head came back in, locking the door behind him. “It smells amazing. It better be worth the trip.” Because he was starting to think he might not get laid at all.
And it didn’t piss him off quite as much as it should. It was Harry, after all, he could just fly three thousand miles and have a pizza.
But honestly, the Cajun was a bit worried about turning this into a real friendship.
***
“I can’t believe you’re complaining that I sent you my jet to fly out here. When I’m dying,” Harry added, just to be a bit of a jerk.
He waited with his drink until Remy came back, trying not to think about anything in particular. It was easier said than done. He was glad to see the other young man return, though one look at the pizza box and Harry realized, suddenly, he didn’t want pizza at all.
“So,” he asked, sighing a bit, “are we tip-toeing around this all night? Or are we going to let the pizza excuse just become an actual thing? Because I really doubt you flew all this way for a slice of New York’s finest.” Harry’s lip quirked up a bit. “New York’s finest pizza, I mean.”
*** “Oh shut up, Harry.” The pizza was dropped on the side table and the Cajun was taking a step in and leaning down to push the drink out of the way so he could press his lips against the younger man’s. A knee soon found home between Harry’s thighs on the couch and he was pressing him back.
Hey, never let it be said that the red-head didn’t take exactly what he wanted.
***
Harry snorted a bit, then made an indignant sort of sound against Remy’s lips. He leaned back as he was pushed, making sure to pull Remy with him. It had been a long time since they’d done this.
“You’ll get wrinkles in your shirt.”
*** “Oh, you think so? So nice of you, looking out for the well-being of my suiting.” He’d pull back and linger there, one knee on the sofa, one foot on the ground, and he’d shrug out of his blazer, then unbutton his dress shirt and toss them both aside. His undershirt soon followed.
“There. No wrinkles.” And he was leaning back down again to take that mouth for his own once again. ***
Rolling his eyes, Harry still managed to appreciate the sight. Though it never did well to feed into Remy’s already massive ego, so Harry said nothing, just kissed back as good as he got. It was the best sort of distraction.
He brought his hand to the back of Remy’s neck, squeezing it slightly before pushing his fingers up into the red-head’s hair.
***
Harry surely knew what Remy liked-- fingers in his hair were always welcome. So it was no surprise he would rather efficiently help the younger man remove his clothes so they could get down to business. Right there on the couch. Neither one were particularly picky and it was more for Harry’s distraction than anything else.
When it was all said and done, the Cajun would be laying there for a few long moments, face pressed into Harry’s neck in a satisfied way. But he eventually sat up and gave the other boy a slow kiss before climbing completely off the couch and tugging his boxer-briefs back on, padding only far away enough to refill Harry’s glass with the high priced liquor. Then he was coming back over and settling down again, offering the glass down to him. “Amazing, as always.” Lazily complimented with a sated smile, his fingers absently raking through Harry’s slightly longer locks. It was an affectionate gesture he only ever did in these instances. ***
“Did you think I’d suddenly be awful at it?” Harry asked, lazily stretching. He huffed a bit, sounding a little fond, before he sat up to have a drink of the scotch. It struck him that it was likely that Remy would now be leaving soon - the man did have meetings in the morning, and, really, what more had this trip been for other than an expensive booty call?
He set the glass aside and settled back down on the couch. “I guess the jet’s all yours when you need to go back. Just let me know and I’ll call the driver and the pilot for you.”