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It’s funny, how the most insignificant choices in our lives can shape our entire future.
Harry Osborn has made a lot of very significant choices in the past two years, choices that could be argued weren’t the best ones, and choices he had taken very deliberately. Some of these choices have led him to this situation, and he probably wouldn’t end up where he was if he made different ones. Some of them he knew would have consequences, even if he couldn’t have foreseen those consequences exactly.
Some of them barely registered on his radar as choices until he looked back, and realized that they changed everything.
Maybe if he went about this a different way, he would somehow end up in the same point. Maybe they would suffer more, or less, maybe the damage between them couldn’t be undone. Maybe they wouldn’t have to worry if they would live to mend fences with each other.
There was no doubt, Harry was at fault for them being in this situation in so many ways, but maybe, just maybe, that one little insignificant change of heart that morning could save them yet.
You see, Harry Osborn didn’t use public transit. He had personal chauffeurs, cars, and Bernard.
But that morning, Harry realized he made a mistake.
A mistake that he needed to fix before his driver would get there.
A mistake weighing on his mind too much for him to have a clear enough mind to drive himself.
So that morning, Harry Osborn got on a train to get to Peter and warn him about Octavius. Got on a train praying that Peter wasn’t answering his phone for some silly reason, and not because Otto already got him. Got on a train, because he realized he made mistakes.
But ultimately, it was that getting on a train that got them here.
Here being both held captive and threatened by an eight-handed lunatic out to create an evil version of renewable energy, with Harry suddenly more certain that even that he loved Peter, and not sure if they would live long enough to say it.
But rewind.
Because when he thought back at all of it, it started much, much earlier. Like, Friday, November 29, 2002. The day after that infamous thanksgiving, and his father’s death. The day Harry made the first mistake of them all, assuming that Spider-Man murdered Norman Osborn.
In retrospect, it’s so obvious how stupid that assumption was. Spider-Man was a hero. There were so many reasons he may have been dropping Norman’s body off other than killing him. Like, primarily, trying to save him from something and not being on time. Because that’s what Spider-Man did. He saved people. But Harry was too lost in his grief and anger to think.
Or maybe, deep down, there was some part of him that immediately assumed that a hero wouldn’t save Norman Osborn. Maybe, deep down, some part of Harry felt like in fairy tales, his father was always the villain.
But that was what started it all. The unhealthy obsession, the dumb hunt for Spider-Man that made him lose himself and drift apart from Peter.
There were reasons for why he assumed Spider-Man murdered Norman at first, but no excuses for why he ignored Peter, chose his vendetta over his best friend, assumed that he was protecting a murderer rather than think for a second and get it though his own stupid head that Peter would never associate with someone like that.
Peter Parker wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone someone close to Harry.
So Spider-Man wouldn’t either.
But he was getting ahead of himself again. The most important thing was that while last night Harry completely lost his mind (he blamed the alcohol) and sent Doc Ock after Peter like an idiot who was about to ruin the last thread that their friendship was hanging on, this morning’s hungover Harry had one good idea, possibly the only one in the last two years.
Find and save Peter.
And that’s how he found himself on that train. Which, technically, led him both to Peter and Doc Ock, although it did not go as planned. What Harry planned was going to Peter’s flat and hoping he would be there. What he didn’t expect was for Otto and Spider-Man to find him before that.
He most certainly did not expect Octavius to attack the train he was on, for his life to be in the hands of the hero he so despised. Wouldn’t it be ironic, if he died with the bug because of a villain he sent after him himself?
Except as always, Spider-Man saved the day. Without a mask too.
Harry could feel his heart in his throat as the train finally stopped, the red and blue figure holding it steady on the opposite side of the car, and Harry could see a mop of dark hair, ruffled with effort. He was clearly strained, and collapsed the moment the train stopped securely. He watched, heart skipping a beat when Spider-Man almost fell to his death and wasn’t that funny? Yesterday he wanted him dead, and now the man saved him twice and Harry suddenly didn’t want him to die.
It was strange. He watched with relief and anticipation as the other passengers caught him, brought him inside the train, unconscious. Watched, aware that he was finally about to learn who he was, and feeling completely unprepared.
And suddenly there he was, laid carefully on the dirty floor, bloody, exhausted, and with an oh so familiar face.
Peter.
„Is he alive?”
„He’s... just a kid. No older than my son.”
People were speaking, but he could hear them as through a fog. He almost killed Peter. He almost killed the only person in this godforsaken world who cared about him.
„Peter.” He fell to his knees next to him, people making space as they realized he knew the man under the mask. He checked Peter’s pulse, relieved to find it still there and cradled his cheek gingerly. His other hand hung in the air above Peter’s wounds, unsure how to help. „Peter.”
He just repeated the name like a mantra, like a prayer, until after what felt like hours (but was probably less than a minute) Peter’s eyes opened, and softened, calming down when they saw Harry.
Something in Harry broke, knowing he could still get that reaction, but then Peter’s eyes opened again, wide and frantic, as his hand flew to his face and he seemed to remember he was Spider-Man now.
Except... no one cared.
In the silence of the train car, smiles and reassurances about keeping Spider-Man’s secret flooded in and some kids gave Peter his mask back. But even in the middle of this touching scene, even though he was clearly moved, Harry could tell Peter waited only for one reaction.
His.
And Harry didn’t know what to do. There were probably several other ways he could have reacted better than he did. He could hug Peter. Assured him he didn’t hate him. Apologized. But in that moment the only thing running through his head was that Peter was there for him. Peter refused to leave, refused to give up on him even when Harry made his goal essentially trying to murder him.
Wonderful, stupid, Peter Parker.
So Harry went ahead and kissed him.
„I love you. And nothing’s gonna change that.” The people around them started cheering, and Peter just stared, and Harry helped him get up while trying to avoid his gaze. And there was a lot going on... even without the door being blasted off by Otto.
„Move aside. He’s mine.”
Fuck. His mistakes were sooo about to bite him in the ass.
„You want to get to him, you got to go through me.” He looked up to see the crowd standing up for Peter, declaring their loyalty. It was a cute display, but not worth shit against the metallic tentacles, and sure enough, it was over quickly. Harry pushed Peter, barely staying on his own feet after keeping the train from falling onto some woman next to him and stalked forward to confront Octavius, whispering angrily in hopes nobody would overhear and go to the papers.
„Plans changed. He’s mine now.”
Otto just laughed. That was the problem with villains, wasn’t it? They just didn’t give a damn about deals.
„Adorable to see you all protective over him now. But that changes nothing. I just have a new leverage now. If you don’t want him to die... then you better give me the tritium so he can live.”
One of the metal tentacles shot back to wrap itself around Peter, another clamping on Harry’s throat. Soon, he was too focused on breathing and panicking about the fact Doc Ock took them over the rooftops of New York to think of negotiating.
God, they were fucked. If they made it out alive, Harry was never going to break a rule in his life ever again. He would become a prime citizen, full of virtue, follower of good.
Well, he would try.
Octavius made one stop along the way, by the old prison, where he ripped the barbed wire from the walls and tied Peter up with it, the poor guy now unconscious again. Harry tried to protest, vehemently, reason with Otto once again, but all it got him was the mechanical hand at his throat getting tighter until he had to choose talking or living.
And then he brought them to the penthouse, assuming, unfortunately correctly, that the tritium was there, and slapping Peter awake.
„Hey, watch out!”
His words were cut off as the tentacle at Harry’s throat now pinned him, aggressively, to the wall, Otto smiling deviously.
„Let’s talk, shall we?”
So, here they were. The situation. Granted, it could have gone a little better. Harry couldn’t really tell by now if not getting on that train would be better or worse, but a part of him (the part not currently being choked to death) was almost glad he did. Glad he found Peter, glad he got to see that Peter wasn’t alone, and had allies, even temporary ones. Had the loyalty of the entire city.
Glad he kissed him.
Later. He grunted as Doc Ock thumped him against the wall once again to have his attention. Later. No distractions again while being held hostage by the maniac.
„The tritium isn’t here, Otto, just--” Another thump. Ouch. His head fucking hurt. „Pete, you not planning on using that Spider strength to break your bonds anytime soon?”
„Sorry, you try breaking through metal that is digging into your flesh as you push back after holding up an entire train on your shoulders!”
„Oh, for fuck’s sake, just tell me where the tritium is!” Suddenly another of the tentacled grabbed the dagger standing on the table, an ornate decorative thing, but still dead sharp, and stuck the blade under Peter’s chin. Both of them tensed, the situation turning from already dangerous to deadly.
„I won’t ask again, Harry. You want your bug to live, tell me now. Where. Is. The tritium.”
„The safe.” All of New York could burn for all he care right now, he just needed that dagger away from Peter. „Behind the painting, I know the code.” The tentacle holding him moved him so that he could access the safe, the other one not moving away from Peter.
His hand trembled as he turned the lock, but there was a time for being smart and a time for being compliant, and the first could come later, once they were safe. Otto practically tore the safe door off the hinges, tossing Harry aside like a ragdoll. He hit the wall hard, and his whole body screamed but finally, Octavius was gone.
And so was the tritium.
„Fuck.” He muttered, gathering himself onto his knees. „Peter, are you alright?”
„I’ve been better?” Peter groaned. Harry crawled next to him and started to help him untangle the bonds. It was not an easy task, the metal wire thick and unpliant under his normal, weak hands, and the sharp spikes biting into Peter’s skin with every movement. Eventually, he loosened it enough, and cut some spikes off with the garden shears, and Peter managed to tear the rest off free.
It was completely inappropriate time and place for it, but watching him flexing those enhanced muscles like that was indescribably hot.
„Better?”
„Much.”
Pete kicked the blasted bonds aside and closed his eyes, just breathing for a second. Harry really didn’t want to stop him, in fact wanted nothing more than to lay down next to him, on the hard floor or not, and sleep but...
„He took the tritium so... he’s building another machine, isn’t he?”
Peter opened his eyes to look at him with the most pitiful look possible.
„I really don’t want to be a hero right now. Can we talk about that kiss instead?”
And despite everything, Harry laughed. Because Peter, wonderful, amazing, incredible Peter, was always so simple. So forgiving, so loving. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t ruin all his chances in that vendetta against Spider-Man after all.
„Tell you what.” He leaned in, close enough Peter’s eyes unconsciously landed on his lips. „Go save New York and then we can even do practical demonstration, deal?”
„Deal.”
Peter grinned, and stole a kiss anyway before putting the mask back on and swinging out. Harry smiled, looking at him until he couldn’t see him anymore, and then turning back to find a working TV with hopes some news station would keep him updated.
It’s funny, how the most insignificant choices in our lives can shape our entire future.
Maybe if Harry didn’t get on that train in the morning, if he didn’t woke up with a hungover and an overdue realization that Peter deserved better, Otto wouldn’t get the tritium. Maybe he would anyway.
Maybe it would all be different, but if this version meant he got to have some peace of mind and Peter?
Then maybe Harry would happily take trains over chauffeurs for the rest of his life, if it meant having this.