Chapter Text
“Are you two ready to go yet? You’re going to be late for your field trip, at this rate.”
Hauling your backpack over your shoulder, your bedroom door slammed behind you with a thud of solid oak. “We’ll be down in just a minute!”
The ornate rug muffled your hurried steps as you headed down the Osborn penthouse’s upstairs hall towards your target. Silently turning the doorknob, you tossed open Harry’s bedroom door, letting it hit the wall with a bang. Harry jolted away from the mirror as if you’d shot at him, the hair he’d been carefully gelling into place falling back down over his eyes.
“What the fuck, (y/n)? Get out of my room!”
Smirking, you snagged the strap of his backpack where it lay on his bed, backing away towards the door. “Hurry your ass up, or I’m eating your breakfast.”
Harry jumped off the chair, promptly slamming the door in your face the second you crossed the threshold. His muttering permeated the door, enough that you could just barely make out his words, something about staying out of his business, followed by nosy little shit. The smirk only widened as you headed straight for the stairs.
“There’s my aspiring scientist.” Norman grinned, shoulders straightening. He watched as you took the grand staircase two steps at a time, opening his arms wide the second your shoes hit the polished wood at the bottom. You walked right in, returning his hug. The scratchiness of his black suits never made his hugs feel any less formal, nor did the two brief pats he always left on your upper back before he let you go. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s primping.” Mischief curved your lips again. “I told him I’d eat his breakfast if he didn’t get down here.”
That earned a grin from Norman. “You will not. And, if I recall, you told him to ‘hurry his ass up.’ Not the most proper language for someone of your talents, don’t you think?”
“Sorry.” You weren’t, and your grin showed it.
“Just break the habit before you start your formal academic pursuits, and you’ll be fine.” Pride glimmered in his eyes as he said it, no question in his mind about your future. “The Oscorp sponsors don’t take kindly to any of us cursing like sailors. Even me.”
The moment was broken by the loud thudding of footsteps approaching, followed by Harry running down the stairs, curly hair finally slicked back into something presentable. You threw his backpack in his general direction, and he snagged it out of the air, tossing it over his shoulder on his way to the small stack of pancakes that had been left on the foyer table. Bernard, the butler, had moved it up from the storage room of a kitchen downstairs when it became apparent that there wouldn’t be time for Harry to enjoy a sit-down breakfast.
“You’re late,” Norman commented, glancing down at his watch. “By seven minutes.”
“Would’ve gone faster if I hadn’t been interrupted,” Harry argued, mouth full of mashed pancakes. “I wanted to look good. You said it yourself—a first impression doesn’t start when you open your mouth, it starts when you walk in the door.”
“And I suppose that’s why you’re wearing a jacket in June?” Norman’s mouth twitched, a laugh trying not to escape.
“It’s comfortable.” In true hungry teen fashion, the silver utensils clattered to the plate, pancakes gone.
“You’ll have to get used to uncomfortable eventually. Suits are the mainstays of the Osborn wardrobe. Don’t you forget it.” Norman turned on his heel, leading you and Harry down the stairs, through the small kitchen and dining nook, and into the strangely industrial elevator beyond.
Once outside, you climbed into the car first, followed by Norman, then Harry. Charles, the chauffeur, guided the vehicle down the long driveway and into the street smoothly, narrowly avoiding a smattering of honking cars.
“You know, maybe I don’t want to wear suits all the time,” Harry finally muttered, watching the cityscape pass outside the window.
Norman nodded, as if considering his words. “Do you still want to take over the company, eventually?”
That got Harry’s attention. “Of course.”
“Then make your peace with it now,” Norman said flatly. “I won’t make you wear suits yet. To be honest, I’m not sure why (y/n) does sometimes.” There was that little twitch of the corner of his mouth again. “But eventually, son, you’ll have to put up with dress codes.”
“(Y/n) loves embarrassment,” Harry laughed.
You would have aimed a kick at him, had Norman not been sitting directly in the line of fire. “I do not. Sometimes I just like to look professional.”
“At least you didn’t wear a suit this time. Columbia University is cool, but not that cool.”
“Harry,” Norman interrupted. “It’s cool enough to be worthy of Oscorp funding. At least, the science departments are.”
“Better than the sports department.”
Harry snorted at that, and Norman finally broke a smile. You continued. “Do we actually know what projects are going on there?”
Norman pursed his lips, thinking. “Something about a microscope, last I heard. Nothing untoward. I haven’t had time to keep up on all the latest developments. Though, I expect you and Harry will learn all about it today.”
Harry made a noise that fell somewhere between snorting horse and disgruntled pug. “Can’t wait.”