Living Conditions

Peter’s phone was broken.

The screen still lit up when he pressed the button on the side but it was badly cracked; the touchscreen unresponsive. At least he would be able to retrieve his files if he linked it to a laptop. He had a few stunning shots of Spider-Man that he wanted to feed to The Bugle. He needed everyone to think that Spidey was still out there.

Heaving a sigh, he decided to ask one of Harry’s neighbours to call a taxi on his behalf.

The old alpha that answered sleazily looked him up and down and made a comment about how ‘Osborn had big balls’ to leave him alone. Luckily, the man took the cloaked threat no further. Peter still looked over his shoulder as he headed down the stairwell to the front of the building.

After he climbed into the car he pulled out the note and read it again. Really read it. His sleepy mind hadn’t taken much of it in and it was longer than he remembered.

I have to go out to meet a friend and I didn’t want to wake you. Make sure you have some breakfast before you leave, and borrow some of my clothes. You can’t go walking around the city in robes. They make you look too cute.

- Harry

Peter felt a warmth flooding through his core, swirling and making him tingle inside. The heat rose higher and higher until he was certain that it had reached his face. He dipped his head, not wanting the driver to see that he was blushing. He knew that Harry was only doing all of this to keep him safe.

But his brain only seemed capable of focusing on one thing.

Harry thought he was cute.

-

When Peter arrived back at the manor he glanced around the foyer, half hoping that Adrian would come out of the kitchen to greet him. The giddy feeling that the note had given him transformed into a pang of ugly guilt, like he’d somehow done something wrong. He needed the chef’s familiar face for support, but when the man didn’t emerge he pulled his shoes off and followed the sound of the TV into the living room.

Norman was leaning forward on the sofa, his eyes narrowed into a squint as he studied the morning stocks and share prices flashing up on the news. He didn’t bother to turn when he heard the door open.

Peter balled his fists around the sleeves of Harry’s wool sweater. It swamped him but at least the scent was comforting.

“Hi.” He started, already hoping that his alpha wouldn’t be too upset by his disappearance last night. If anything, Norman’s disinterest in him right now was reassuring. He took a step closer. “Harry said that you had to dash off last night? So I went home with him.”

Norman held his hand up, signalling that he be silent for a moment. The man hissed as he saw ‘Oscorp’ pop up on the screen alongside a red arrow that pointed downwards. Their profits were plummeting. The last thing he was worried about was how his stupid omega had likely gone on a jaunt around town with his son.

“That’s fine.” His words were sharp and he sat back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to make a few calls. Call a meeting. Anything to get the state of the company fixed. He didn’t care that Harry had lied to Peter. Nor did he care about the lack of sex he’d had last night- although that did nothing to pacify his mood.

Norman turned to look at him and his mouth stretched into a grimace when they locked onto the oversized sweater. “What are you wearing?”

“I- uh…” Peter swallowed to clear the dryness in his mouth. “Harry gave me some clothes to borrow. It wouldn’t be a good idea to come home in my robes, especially not alone. It would attract too much attention.”

“You stink of him. Go and get changed- and put those back in his room!”

Peter felt his cheeks heating up again. He’d thought that Norman wouldn’t be concerned about the younger alpha’s scent on him. Harry was his son. Was he really that possessive? He nodded and turned to leave but halted in the doorway. He felt like he should apologise to clear the air.

No.

It was Norman who needed to apologise to him.

He inhaled deeply and held his breath, gathering the courage for what he was about to do. This could backfire on him astronomically, but they needed to have it out. He turned to face him.

“I know you tried to subdue me last night.” Peter chose his words carefully. He crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest, as though he was squeezing himself. His eyes burned into Norman’s accusingly. “I don’t want you to ever do that again. It’s a hard ‘no’ from me.”

Norman sat in silence, not sure how to respond to the bold order. An omega had never stood up to him like this before.

His mouth cracked open and he chuckled cynically to himself. Peter was staring him down and he had the burning urge to give him a swift backhand to teach him a lesson- but he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t that kind of alpha.

“I gave you something because I was going to have sex with you last night. You would have thanked me for it. I don’t think you realise it but your first time is going to hurt. A lot.”

Deep down Norman knew that he shouldn’t have spiked his omega, but he was too proud to admit that. In Norman Osborn’s mind, he’d been doing him a favour. Omegas often felt a lot of pain during their first encounter with sex and he was the alpha. It was his responsibility to take care of Peter. That included coaxing him into bed. Making sure he was gentle. Showing him that he would make a good lover.

“But perhaps I shouldn’t have done it. And perhaps Harry had been right to have taken you home with him.”

And that was the closest he was going to get to admitting that he’d been wrong.

Peter froze, not expecting the strange half-apology. He hadn’t liked what had happened, but what could he do? He’d signed a contract. The man at the auction had even warned him that his alpha would want intimacy.

But all he wanted in return was to be respected.

“I’m not a doll, you know? I can handle a bit of pain. And you could have asked me if I wanted to take the drug instead of slipping it into my drink.”

Norman stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stood. Peter stayed still, keeping his feet glued where they were. He wouldn’t show fear, although the older man made no move to advance on him.

“I- didn’t think. I-” The alpha started to excuse himself but stopped abruptly.

That wasn’t the whole truth. He had. He’d just not considered Peter’s feelings about the matter. He waved a hand in the air, signalling at nothing in particular. “Darling, I’m so used to having omegas who want me to take full control of their lives that I didn’t stop to think that you wouldn’t.”

Peter swallowed again. He looked away.

Was this normal? Were alphas supposed to choose what was best for their omegas? It’s what he’d been taught throughout school. He shook his head. It didn’t matter.

He didn’t like it and Norman would have to respect that.

“Next time just ask me first… okay?” Peter met the older man’s eyes once more. Norman’s brow was wrinkled into a deep frown. His eyes were soft. He looked genuinely remorseful, like he’d managed to talk him around. “I’m new to this, but I’m someone who needs to be in control of my own choices.”

“I can see that.” The alpha sighed. “You’re the cleverest boy I’ve ever had.” He swallowed his ‘sorry’ down before it could choke him and instead changed the topic of conversation to something less awkward.

“So… how was your evening with Harry?”

-

Peter stripped in his room and pulled on his jeans and a simple t-shirt. He wasn’t in the mood to be catering to Norman’s tastes. He shoved the set of robes back into the closet and then sat on the end of his bed. He cradled Harry’s sweater to his chest.

He buried his face in the folded wool, both loving and hating how much comfort the scent brought to him. It made his head spin; his hormones swirled with each breath. The glow he’d felt in the taxi was back and he had a strange urge to lick and mouth at the material as though it was the alpha’s very own skin.

He pulled away, shocked by this epiphany and stood.

Norman was right. He had to return it.

Even if he didn’t want to.

-

Harry’s childhood room was large and the walls were plastered with posters of indie bands that Peter hadn’t even heard of. An acoustic guitar rested next to the door and he raised an eyebrow at it, having never even considered the other to have been musically talented. A vinyl player stood atop a set of drawers and a glass cabinet displayed some disks that Peter could only assume were rare records.

This just seemed to be such a contrast to the serious and formal-looking young man that he’d met his first morning here.

It explained the leather jacket from last night though. And the motorbike that he’d apparently arrived on.

Peter moved over to the closet and opened the doors to reveal a few empty hangers and piles of music magazines stacked on the floor, along with a couple of badly hidden seedy ones that he knew he shouldn’t be looking at.

He quickly hung the sweater back up and hoped that the alpha wouldn’t notice his scent entwined with his own.

As he turned, something caught Peter’s attention in the corner of the room. There were figurines on Harry’s desk. Simple ones, like what you would buy a child from a toy shop. They all stood in a line, making heroic-looking poses.

Captain America. Thor. The Hulk. Black Widow. Even Iron Man was there- which was probably much to Norman’s disgust.

He smiled as he bent down to look at them before plucking Tony Stark up and opening his helmet to reveal his bearded face.

It seemed that along with the rest of New York, Harry liked superheroes. And he probably wouldn’t want people knowing what an endearing little geek he was about it either. Peter grinned to himself and wished that his phone was still working. He so badly wanted to take a photo of these.

He placed Tony down and dared to search the room for clues of his other interests. The omega’s eyes scanned over a few empty beer bottles that had been abandoned on the floor next to the bed. Harry’s bedsheets were rumpled, as though he hadn’t quite managed to make it the last time he stayed over.

A splash of red and blue drew Peter’s attention to the bedside table and his heart jumped when he realised what he was looking at. Next to an antique lamp was something- or someone that he knew all too well.

The warm feeling began to return as he stared at a statue of himself.

Harry liked Spider-Man too.   

He was posed in his classic squat stance. One arm stabilising him at the front. One arm behind him in the air. It was as if he’d just landed. He sank to his knees and began to inspect it. The material was different to the rest of the figures and as far as Peter knew there weren’t any of Spider-Man out there.

The Avengers were popular. He wasn’t. At least not yet.  

So that must mean that Harry had had this one specially commissioned. He grinned wide, unable to contain his delight.

Did this make him the favourite?