*drawing a likely conclusion from this reply, Connor switches off the computer and gets to the bedroom where Mr. Osborn has just typed this smouldering tag*
"Look," he says, coming in, "I didn't want to ask my parents and I knew it was a sacrifice for you anyway, so I didn't ask you."
Harry is busy typing away and entering his credit card number on one purchase after another. Oh he is a pro at this. Plus, he's completely and utterly enraged. In fact, he is so mad, that he doesn't say anything to Connor. The moment he stops typing, his hands are shaking from rage
( ... )
When Connor doesn't get immediately yelled at, he realizes with a sinking feeling just how serious Harry takes this. He valiantly struggles not to listen to private phone conversations. Really, people. But he catches something about "all six?" as well. This does not yet clue him in into what Harry did, it just suggests an assortment of possibilities, and besides, Connor has never, not in more than a year of their relationship now, been able to resist an "I dare you" challenge from Harry Osborn. No matter whether the dare was hostile, friendly, or anything in between.
So he raises an eyebrow and sounds something between still apologetic and returning defiant as he says:
"You bet, Pretty Boy," Harry practically purrs as he tosses the phone on the bed and gives Connor a condescending look. This is pure Harry Osborn is a spoiled rich punk mode.
"You are now the proud owner of six classic thunderbird convertibles. So, you have six opportunities to sell them off as you need to in order to prove how self-sufficient you are with your need to provide for both of us."
He's so angry that he can barely see straight. It's a little hard to breathe, so he pushes past him and storms out of the room, heading straight for the balcony. When he can't breathe, he needs air, and balconies always provide air.
This leaves Connor somewhat stunned, so he needs a moment before he follows Harry out, still trying to take this in. No one other than Harry would get the idea of punishing via gifts. Now Connor is sorry he had to sell the original car, but for one thing, it had not seemed a gift on the same level like, say, that flask with the Larkin poem, or the painting, both of which he would never have parted with, and for another, apologizing again seems sort of pointless when Harry is in this mood. So would asking what else he was supposed to do with five of the six cars, leave them to rot in the Gotham wind? Besides, Connor has a temper of his own, which is slowly but surely igniting, despite the repentance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspects that quiet acceptance wouldn't be half as satisfying as signs of upsetness to Harry anyway, that Harry didn't want repentance or silent withdrawal but a sign he struck blood. Which only a counter hit would be. Well, he has always been good in obliging Harry Osborn
( ... )
Harry doesn't flinch at the statement or what it implies. Instead, he stares out at the Gotham skyline for a moment, concentrating on breathing in and out and getting a grip on his anger.
The moment he does, he turns and slaps Connor so hard across the face his palm stings. It's not a double bitchslap in public, but it will do.
"I'll order your collar and leash later," He hisses through clenched teeth.
Connor has been kicked, punched etc. by a variety of beings both supernaturally strong and plain human, but when it comes to slaps, Harry is his first. Even Justine, that one time she was drunk and they had the argument ending with him running away as not to seriously hurt her after he smashed the window in her car, had punched him. And Cyvus Vail didn't throw in any fake memories of slaps, either. He sees it coming but in the split second he has to make that decision doesn't evade because a) he's that surprised, and b) he figures it's not like this will hurt much.
Well, he's due for another surprise. Being slapped carries a sting all of its own. It does hurt, never mind not-quite-human physique, especially since it's delivered by Harry. At the same time, and because this is Harry, it brings up all kind of feelings along with anger and suprise
( ... )
Harry hasn't lost his temper bad enough to slap someone since Peter Parker at Mary Jane's engagement party. Even then he was drunk, and completely out of his mind thanks to Spider-man saving him from the disaster of the Doctor Octavius project. He's emotional now, sure, but he's not drunk. He doesn't even think he's crazy. He's just at the end of his rope emotionally and feels like things are caving in all over the place
( ... )
Congratulations, son, comments Connor's inner Angelus who hasn't been heard of for a while. Killing aside, that's what we're best at. Reducing the people who love us to tears.
For a moment, he wonders about jumping from the balcony and looking for another bad guy to fight, but then he remembers he's naked except for the boxers and besides, it would probably feel like hanging up the phone or turning the back would to Harry, and he has promised himself not to do that.
So he takes a deep breath and follows. When he sees Harry in front of the wardrobe, he has a moment of blind panic because he remembers that letter in New York. Then he sinks to his knees next to Harry and very lightly, very tentatively touches Harry's back with his hand.
Harry doesn't move away, but he doesn't move toward Connor either. Mostly he's trying to either cry it out, whatever it is, or suck it back in. He's not even sure what all is bubbling over at this point. Maybe it's the stuff from getting arrested and then the crap that went down with Connor and Bruce. Maybe part of it is left over from Lionel and Lex and Mario. He's not sure, but he feels like he's kind of choking on everything at once
( ... )
Connor has somewhat more practice in denial, most recently by shutting up that voice that reminds him he's only free because of yet another lie, and that what he thought when arrested is still true: that he deserves nothing less than a life taken away for all the dead bodies in his wake. The tried and true method for shutting it up was to remind himself of what Harry had said, that if Connor remained in prison, he would. But right now, he feels he's somehow failing all the ways to be a good partner, and he isn't even exactly sure why and how. For a moment, the residual anger in him leashes out and he thinks they would be happy anywhere but in Gotham right now if Bruce Wayne hadn't made his takeover offer, and then the anger redirects itself. Bruce Wayne isn't the one who somehow managed to get Harry so angry and miserable
( ... )
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"Look," he says, coming in, "I didn't want to ask my parents and I knew it was a sacrifice for you anyway, so I didn't ask you."
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So he raises an eyebrow and sounds something between still apologetic and returning defiant as he says:
"It has?"
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"You are now the proud owner of six classic thunderbird convertibles. So, you have six opportunities to sell them off as you need to in order to prove how self-sufficient you are with your need to provide for both of us."
He's so angry that he can barely see straight. It's a little hard to breathe, so he pushes past him and storms out of the room, heading straight for the balcony. When he can't breathe, he needs air, and balconies always provide air.
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The moment he does, he turns and slaps Connor so hard across the face his palm stings. It's not a double bitchslap in public, but it will do.
"I'll order your collar and leash later," He hisses through clenched teeth.
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Well, he's due for another surprise. Being slapped carries a sting all of its own. It does hurt, never mind not-quite-human physique, especially since it's delivered by Harry. At the same time, and because this is Harry, it brings up all kind of feelings along with anger and suprise ( ... )
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For a moment, he wonders about jumping from the balcony and looking for another bad guy to fight, but then he remembers he's naked except for the boxers and besides, it would probably feel like hanging up the phone or turning the back would to Harry, and he has promised himself not to do that.
So he takes a deep breath and follows. When he sees Harry in front of the wardrobe, he has a moment of blind panic because he remembers that letter in New York. Then he sinks to his knees next to Harry and very lightly, very tentatively touches Harry's back with his hand.
"I guess you do," he whispers.
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