Work Text:
Peter drummed his fingers on his desk. Dr. Curtis Connors, written in little words on the screen of his computer. 24 interns.
He could totally sneak in there, right? Surely Dr. Connors wouldn’t notice if one of his interns went missing. Nobody would ever know he was there, and then he could go in and listen to Dr. Connors talk about cross-species genetics and maybe he’d talk about his dad’s research, maybe he’d tell Peter about his father, maybe he’d recognize Peter and say, oh, I know you, you’re Richard’s son! Let me tell you all about your dad and our work together and all the happy times we shared in between and answer all your unfulfilled questions about why your father left you and what your life could have been and-
He had to get into Oscorp.
Should he just turn up and go from there? He clicked forward on Oscorp’s website, looking at the list of interns. Unfamiliar, didn’t know that guy, who even was that, surely he could just get in and nobody would care at all… unless…
There was, in fact, one person on the list who would know it was him. Head intern, Gwen Stacy.
He leaned forward and put his hands on his head. Man, Gwen. Peter couldn’t imagine her reaction to seeing him there. She might have been nice enough to distract Flash for him, but there was no way she’d let him just walk into Dr. Connors’s internship like the punk he was. Maybe he could convince her… but that would be so unfair to her. If there was one thing Peter knew about Gwen, it was that she was smart. And pretty. And she had really big eyes. And she scrunched up her nose when she smiled… the point was, it would be really mean to make her possibly lose her internship, which she probably cared about very much, just to cover for stupid Peter Parker.
He had to find another way. Continuing to look through Oscorp’s website, he tried to think of a solution. Maybe they were looking for a janitor? Specifically teenage, not-yet-out-of-high-school janitors. Could he say he’d come in to take photographs? Right, that wouldn’t be suspicious at all. Maybe he could hack into Oscorp’s server and put himself on the list of interns. Yeah, if he knew how to code anything more than hello world, that might work.
He rocked back and forth in his chair anxiously. There had to be another way. Maybe he could just sit in the lobby and scream until Dr. Connors agreed to come out to investigate. That would work, right? If he just sat there long enough. Oscorp’s security guards couldn’t have been as large and looming as they had been when he was…
As it turned out, there was another way. It was just more insane than impersonating an intern.
Peter fumbled for his phone and opened up Instagram. He swiped through until he reached an account he had been keeping a tertiary eye on ever since he first found it. It belonged to none other than Harry Osborn, son of the founder and CEO of Oscorp.
Peter and Harry had been friends, once upon a time. When they were, like, nine. And it was only because their dads knew each other. But Harry had stuck around for him after Peter’s father left, and they were pretty okay with each other until Harry went off to his fancy boarding school not long after. Since then, Peter had seen him occasionally in social media posts and fashion magazines (he did not read fashion magazines, okay? He was just… using them for collage work), partying it up in Europe with supermodels and sports cars and outfits that probably cost more than the Parkers’ entire house. The sort of stuff you’d expect from a billionaire’s kid.
Anyway, Peter had known Harry once, or at least the snotty nine-year-old version. Admittedly, scrolling through Harry’s Instagram made it pretty clear he was very far from a snotty nine-year-old now, which was a little discouraging for Peter.
The most recent post was Harry himself, looking very intimidating and very not-a-child-anymore as he lounged in an armchair inside what was probably a mansion, hair perfectly combed and face perfectly neutral, wearing expensive sunglasses and a luxurious burgundy suit. The caption read, See Christian Dior’s new line of custom-made dinner jackets with Harry Osborn, available at…
This was a pretty typical offering. Peter scrolled through the line-up of luxury goods and glitzy parties, and the more he did so the more uncertain he felt. This was a terrible idea. Harry probably didn’t even remember Peter, and it wouldn’t be that surprising, either, given how long it had been. And Peter would look like a total bum, sending a message after so long just to beg Harry to get into his father’s company. That was assuming he’d see the message at all, of course, given that there was a good chance the account was run entirely by some PR agent. Unfortunately his nine-year-old self hadn’t had the foresight to ask for Harry’s phone number.
He should probably just scream in the lobby. Except the idea of Gwen seeing that made him wince.
It wouldn’t hurt to just ask, right? Maybe, maybe, against all odds, Harry would see what Peter had sent and decide to give him some time of day. He opened up the messages section and stared blankly at the empty text box and the little blinking cursor waiting for him to type. Come on, Parker. Worst case scenario, he got no reply. Or whoever was running the account would tell him to fuck off.
What should he send? Hey, man, we used to know each other like seven years ago, could you please ask your dad to let me into his company so that I can meet up with a guy who used to work with my dad and ask him lots of uncomfortable questions about my family? Thanks, Peter. Terrible, terrible idea. It sounded like he only cared about Harry now just because of his dad, which, in fairness, wasn’t really wrong. He couldn’t say that, though.
His fingers tapped restlessly on the sides of his phone as he chewed his lip. Okay, find a way to make it sound like he wasn’t begging for help. Start polite. A little how you been doing? No, wait, was that too friendly? He wasn’t trying to butter Harry up or anything—aghh, but what if he sounded too rude? And what reason could he give for even asking this? He couldn’t tell Harry about his father’s research, no way, it would just sound like he was trying to guilt-trip him. What did he say, then? He looked through Dr. Connors’ Wikipedia, trying to find a believable excuse for why he’d taken a sudden interest in Oscorp’s research. Maybe he should ask after Harry’s interests. But what was Harry even interested in? The last time Peter saw him, he’d been really into Superman comics, but he doubted Harry still liked them now. Ask about that French model he was dating? But that just made him sound like a stalker! Maybe being a little stalkerish was a good thing, though, to show he’d been looking out for Harry. But what if he just sounded like a creep? God, Peter, why do you have to overthink everything?
He sent off a set of what was hopefully not creepy or overly friendly messages and carefully set his phone back down on his bed. His heart was beating like a jackhammer. It was just Harry, he told himself, just Harry, who he used to play video games with when they were kids. No way seven years could have changed that much, right? He prayed that he hadn’t interrupted Harry in a photoshoot for Vogue or something and pissed him off.
Harry Osborn was not doing a photoshoot for Vogue. Harry Osborn was currently day-drinking on the balcony of his hotel room in Paris.
Ordinarily he’d be day-drinking on his balcony with his super hot model girlfriend by his side, but his super hot model girlfriend had fucked off to God knows where. This might have contributed to the day-drinking, admittedly.
Models, man. Dating them seemed fun and sexy until you were actually doing it. He took a swig of whiskey out of one of the crystal glasses by his chair.
At the moment he was alternating between taking gulps of whiskey and scrolling aimlessly on his phone. He scoffed at some pretty what’s-her-name shitfaced at a bar somewhere. None of his party friends had bothered to call him up yet. Overall, pretty normal.
He received a ding from his account, his stupid PR one. God, these paparazzi types just couldn’t let up, could they? He opened it up, fully intending to tell whatever media company it was to fuck off, he wasn’t doing an interview, it was his day off, God damn it, only to blink incredulously at his screen, because it wasn’t a media company that had messaged him.
There were three messages in total. The first one was the longest, and read as follows:
Hi Harry, I don’t know if you remember me, but we used to know each other a while ago. I know this is really sudden lol, and sorry if this is annoying. It’s gonna sound really bad, but I wanted to ask for a favor. There’s a guy at Oscorp called Dr Curtis Connors who does stuff for cross-species genetics and he’s doing an internship program thing where he talks about his work with students and I really really want to go there, but I’m not one of the people in the program. Is it okay if you talked with whoevers in charge of the program and asked them if they could put me in? I’d really appreciate it if you did man
The second one, following the one above, said:
You don’t have to at all if it’s a bother, sorry I just messaged you out of the blue just to ask about this, I promise I’m not trying to mooch off you or something. I just don’t know what else I can do and Dr Connors has some cool lizards I wanna look at. Sorry again
The third one said, as an after thought:
Nice suit btw, you look great
Harry had not thought of Peter Parker for years. He remembered him, vaguely, as a scrawny little nerd who could talk a mile a minute about his science classes and who’d been unfairly good at Mario Kart. They’d been pretty good friends. Best friends, even. It was a bit surreal to see him messaging him now.
He tapped on Peter’s profile out of curiosity. There were only a couple photos on it. Most of them were rather artsy pictures of New York’s streets. He was rather bemused: he’d never known Peter to be the sensitive creative type.
There was one photo of Peter himself, taken in what looked like the mirror in a school washroom. He’d grown tall and lanky, and had lost the braces, but his hair was still a mess and his eyebrows were as bushy as ever. He was holding up his phone awkwardly by the elbow, and with his hands he was holding a skateboard up on the sink. new board!
Since when had Peter gotten into skateboarding? He went through the other posts in confusion. A couple more artistic shots of ducks on a lake, some more pictures of trees, then a photo of a pretty blonde girl, with straight-cut bangs and her hair up in a ponytail, beaming as she stood in front of some sort of award stand. The caption on it said, to midtown’s best student!!
There was one comment on this one. It was from a girl called Gwen Stacy, and it said, Thank you for the photo!
Harry tapped on it. Sure enough, Gwen Stacy was the girl in the photo. She also, Harry noticed, a slow smile spreading on his face, conveniently interned for Dr. Curtis Connors.
With anyone else, he would have said, aha, there it is! That’s what you’re really after! Considering Peter Parker, though, there was a good chance he really did just want to see the lizards.
He took another swig of whiskey and went back to the three messages Peter had sent. Why the hell not. It wasn’t like it would take long. A man deserved to look at pretty blonde girls, and possibly also lizards.
Peter was rubbing his eyes at his desk and going through all of the computer knowledge he had in his head. The list of interns was open in front of him. Surely his shoddy memory of HTML would be able to convince someone that he was supposed to be there. It was either this or get Gwen to lie for him, again, and he knew which one he preferred.
His phone buzzed. Peter jumped hard and leapt for the bed, seizing his phone with shaking hands. He opened his messages, heart pounding. He gaped. He shook his head. He slapped his face a couple of times and pinched his elbow hard. This would be a really terrible dream, Peter.
It wasn’t a dream. His messages had received a single reply. It contained two beautiful, heavenly words: yea sure
His fingers shook madly over the screen. God, he’d done it. His desperate plea for help had actually worked. He hovered over the keyboard, ready to spew out his overwhelming praise, when a second message appeared. It said, its done
Peter stared at it, wide-eyed. He spun around back to his computer and reloaded the web page before scrolling down at lightning fast speed. Right below Ollie Osnick, and right above Rodrigo Guevara, were the little words Peter Parker.
He sat back, shaking. Harry Osborn was a fucking miracle worker.
Peter had to type out his reply very slowly. Thank you so much man, i really mean it
He didn’t expect Harry to reply after this, considering he’d just come out of the woodworks to ask for help, but to his surprise, the response came almost instantly. np
Then, goos luck
Peter had absolutely no clue what this could have been referring to, but he wasn’t about to push his luck by asking. He tapped his foot. Would it be rude to leave now? It probably would be. Harry’d just helped him out, the least he could do was some conversation. Or would a conversation be annoying? No, stop overthinking. Just be friendly. It’s just Harry.
How’s Europe?
its grrwat, Harry responded. haciing finn
Yeah I saw you in that magazine
Your girlfriend looks good
Oh, man, that was probably a weird thing to say. Who tells a guy he was looking at his girlfriend in a magazine? Before Peter could type out an apology though, Harry’d already replied.
yeagg lamo
idk whehre sh is syed
dshetchd mwe
That sucks man, Peter typed. Then, in concern, he added, You good?, because the Harry he remembered had been considerably more literate.
drubjk
Oh, that explained why Harry had taken him up so easily. Wow, first Gwen and now this. Perhaps the Parker Luck was finally turning around.
Oh ok lol wont bother you then
neiioo itsnfien msna
i msied uuu
Geez, he really was drunk. What were you supposed to say to that? It was nice to know that Harry hadn’t forgotten him after all, though.
I missed you too man
Its been so long
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, Are you coming back to ny soon?
It was probably a bit presumptive, but come on, it really had been ages and ages since he’d seen Harry somewhere that wasn’t a luxury villa in a magazine. They used to play Mario Kart together! Luckily, Harry seemed too inebriated to care.
idikke
shoiud o?
wees sheodu met uo fife
hweewn dsiu grt ietno sdkarenorkign?
It took Peter a little brainpower to work out that last message.
My uncle just gave me a board and i liked it
Its cool
uove nbeber ven fcol
At least Harry had retained some of his dickishness. Peter snorted in spite of himself.
You wanna learn?
Its not that hard
ydd
u huwd teshc e hwn imbbadk
We got a deal then
You better get back soon man
iid widl1!
il loibe uu
Peter grinned. I love you too dude
An eternity later, but also not long after at all, Peter was sitting listlessly on his bed. It was a habit he’d developed recently.
The shadows from his window stretched longer and longer. Peter pressed his face into his hands. Some part of him knew he should sleep, but another part of him didn’t want to. Was afraid, almost. It was like he was seeing his life on repeat before his eyes. Dr. Connors, Uncle Ben. Captain Stacy. Gwen.
He’d probably been sitting there for a while, but he wasn’t very sure. At some point, though, his phone buzzed. He pulled his face out of his hands and himself out of his misery to frown at it. There was a very small number of people who would text him. He hoped, begged that it wasn’t Gwen. Maybe he begged that it was.
It wasn’t Gwen, though. Actually, it was someone he hadn’t expected to message him at all.
Harry had sent him a link to the Daily Bugle’s article on what had happened. Masked Menace Fights Dinosaur! The picture attached must have been taken from the streets below Oscorp Tower. The Lizard hung from the top of the building, silhouetted by the night sky. Above him was the tiny speck of Spider-Man.
Accompanying this was a message. lizard?????
God, news had spread fast, if it had already made its way to Europe. It was kind of inevitable, Peter supposed. It wasn’t every day someone tried to turn an entire city into lizards. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
Yeah man, he typed. The lizards were insane
yeah i’d assume they were, said Harry.
Peter put his fingers in his hair. At least Harry seemed sober now. Peter wasn’t sure what he should say, if he could say anything at all about everything that had happened. It turned out he didn’t need to, because Harry sent another message.
did you get a girl at least?
Peter stared at the little words. Did you get a girl? What a loaded question. Harry probably didn’t realize it. No, he definitely didn’t. Peter’s hands tightened on his phone, and suddenly he felt the urge to spill it all, to tell Harry about Captain Stacy and Gwen’s face as she turned back towards him in the rain, the way her eyes filled with tears. He made you promise, didn’t he?
And maybe Harry could know about Spider-Man, too. He’d been his first and only friend, after all. And he was all the way in Europe, far away from giant lizards and dead police captains and uncles bleeding out in a street at night. He’d be safe, and he’d listen while Peter carved his heart out to him. I’m Spider-Man. It’s been an insane time, Har.
But another part, maybe the part of him that was afraid to fall asleep at night, stopped him. No, Peter. Look at what had happened to Captain Stacy. Leave Gwen out of it. Well, maybe he had to leave Harry out of it too.
pete?
Peter breathed deeply and swallowed before he could crush his phone. It seemed to take an age for his fingers to form thoughts. How did you explain without explaining?
Finally, he settled on, I dont know
There. That was that. Harry’s response took some time too. Peter watched the little screen blink.
that sucks man
maybe you still have a chance
Yeah, maybe.
Peter shook his head. I dont know if i want to anymore. There was so much he couldn’t say. Captain Stacy, lying on a rooftop. The Lizard raking his claws across his chest. Blood on the sidewalk. My uncle died
Harry’s response took even longer this time.
i’m so sorry
The shadows climbed lower. Peter, slowly, gently, let the phone drop from his hands. He watched the little square of light in the dim room. What else was there to say?
At some point, though he didn’t know when, his phone buzzed. He blinked the wetness out of his eyes and looked at the screen again.
i’ll have to come back soon
in a year or two, i think
Peter sat back up again. For the first time in a while, a small bit of jubilation had come back into him.
Thats awesome dude
You still wanna learn to skateboard?
yeah obviously, said Harry. i’m going to hold you to that, you know
Hold yourself to that man, Peter said. Im going to be the meanest, nastiest skateboard teacher in the world
i’m terrified
Youre gonna have to bring your own board though
Mine kind of broke
lol
idc man i’ll get us both boards
we’ll skateboard together
Alright, said Peter. Skateboard together