Title: Weak
Author: raven ([email protected])
Rating: R-ish.
Category: Slash, movie-verse.
Pairing: Peter/Norman
Summary: A little post-GG-death angst with flashbacks.
Warnings: Errrr, other than the slash that should be obvious from the pairing, I don�t think there�s anything particularly bad in this.
Feedback: If you�re gonna flame me, do it off list ;)
Disclaimer: Not mine by any stretch of the imagination, and other than the twisted thrill of writing this, I�m getting nothing out of it.
Distribution: Not that you�ll want it, but I have a simple philosophy � want, take, have. Just let me know where it is.
Notes: Assumes a prior relationship (the start of which is somewhere in the fic) between PP and NO; answering the pointless question of how Peter got the fantastic Spidey-suit. I haven�t got a clue if that�s answered in canon, but I�m sure that someone�ll tell me if it is ;)

***
Weak
***

Peter laid the body on the bed.

The room was dark. And for the city it was quiet, though Peter wasn�t sure if the noise was there, buzzing in his head and ringing in his ears, and he was just couldn�t hear it. Something about the moment wouldn�t let him hear it. Something swamped it, dulled it, left the moment quiet and almost empty. He wished it could be empty.

His heart pounded dully in his chest, his skin crawling with a maddening heat when all he wanted to feel was cold. He wanted to step back, rest against the cold wall and let all the warmth seep out of him. He wanted the sick feeling in his stomach to seep away with it, wanted the stinging behind his eyes to stop, wanted his body to stop shaking. But none of that could happen. As he laid the body on the bed, he knew it couldn�t happen.

He wanted to sit down beside him, touch his hand and look down on his face. He wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down beside him, twine himself about the cooling body, bury his face in the crook of the cooling neck and say a real goodbye. But he couldn�t.

He couldn�t. Harry walked into the room, and all of Peter�s wants paled and shattered in the heartbreak of his friend�s eyes. Peter stepped from the window and did not face him. Peter left the body on the bed.

Everything was still. Everything was quiet. The city was on mute and playing in slow motion. He could almost see each individual raindrop falling as he moved high above the streets; he felt them slick on his skin through his torn costume. Finally, he started to feel the cold.

But even the cold couldn�t stop the thoughts from coming.

***

They were sitting together on the sofa, each with one knee pulled up beside them on the cushions so they were turned to face each other. Norman had his arm slung casually over the back and Peter was leaning back into the corner between the back and the arm with his hands folded together in his lap. Had anyone been there to see them, they would�ve looked comfortable. Still, there were little signs � the stiffness in Norman�s posture, and white knuckles of Peter�s hands, their too-bright smiles � that gave them away. Both men were nervous.

They had a lot to be nervous about. Harry was out of town on some sort of field trip of which Norman had apparently been completely unaware, and when he�d come over he�d found that his son was gone for the weekend and Peter would be alone until the following afternoon. Peter had offered him a drink and over a glass of scotch that Norman was almost positive had belonged to him at some point, they started to talk. Three hours later they were in bed together in a sort of flushed, post-coital confusion, and neither man had a clue how it had happened.

Now it was the morning after. That really says it all.

The conversation had somehow stuck on science and now they were currently stagnating on nanotechnology. It wasn�t that either of them were particularly uninterested or poorly informed on the subject, but they were pussyfooting around what they both really wanted to talk about; they�d slept together and now what were they supposed to do? Peter decided he had to take the plunge and say something, anything. He couldn�t sit there and debate theoretical science with the man when all he could think about was how it felt to be kissed by him, be touched by him, to see him naked and aroused, flushed with lust�

�I don�t regret it�, he said, talking over Norman�s stilted commentary on the state of current Oscorp research and digging his fingernails painfully into the palms of his hands.

Norman frowned and stopped talking, blinking at Peter dumbly. �I�m sorry?� he said, leaning forward slightly.

�Last night, sir. I don�t regret what happened. I�ll understand if you do, and I won�t mention it again, but I just wanted you to know that I� I don�t regret it�.

Norman raised his eyebrows. �So��

�So?"

�So� hypothetically, if I were to tell you that I don�t regret it either�, Norman said. �You might give me a call when Harry�s next out of town?�

Peter couldn�t resist a small smile. �I might�, he said. �And I might ask you to come upstairs with me right now�.

Norman smirked, pulling himself to his feet. �Now how could I resist an offer like that?�

***

He�d killed him. Peter Parker had killed Norman Osborn. It would�ve been different if he just hadn�t taken off the mask. It might have been different if half of Peter�s hadn�t been destroyed. If he hadn�t had to look him in the eye, maybe he would�ve felt justified.

But he could still see his face as he died.

Should he care, though? He felt the wind against his face as he moved between the buildings, as he swung as though he were flying on webs spun from his wrists. Should he care that Norman Osborn was dead? He�d been betrayed. He�d trusted and had that trust abused. Norman Osborn had used him. He shouldn�t care that he was dead. That the Green Goblin was dead.

There was a flaw in his logic, though, and it was then that Peter realised it.

***

He was sitting on his bed, cross-legged, leaning against the headboard. Norman was stretched out beside him, naked save for the sheet tangled around his waist, smirk on his face and his head resting on his hand. It was comfortable. Peter had never felt that comfortable around anyone before.

But, inevitably, the conversation turned to Harry. It always did sooner or later. Only this time it was Peter that had brought it up.

�I really think he�s in love with MJ�, he was saying, hugging a pillow against his chest. �But I see how he is with her. He buys her stuff all the time � dresses, shoes, jewellery� I think she tried to say no at first but he wore her down, you know how he is. I don�t know if he realises he�s doing it, but it�s so obvious that he�s just doing it all so she�ll stay with him. He tries to impress her with his money. I was wondering if��

Norman raised his eyebrows. �If he�s not the only Osborn with that particular insecurity, perhaps?�

Peter nodded. �Something like that. Not that you couldn�t have anyone you wanted but��

Norman smirked, moving slowly, trailing one hand down over Peter�s chest, scratching his fingernails over the thin red material. �You think I�m trying to buy you with a Spider-suit?�

�Maybe�.

�Maybe you wonder if it�s you that I�m interested in, or the superhero�.

�Maybe�.

�Take that thing off and we�ll see if I can�t convince you�.

***

He wanted to hate. Hate made things easier, and right then he would�ve given anything to make things easy. But he couldn�t hate him.

He�d known from that first night that Norman couldn�t be the Green Goblin, because he�d shown him that he�d never hurt him. He�d seemed to understand when Peter had told him his secret; he�d helped him, there�d been no sign that he�d ever betrayed him. Peter had had no reason to suspect that Norman was the Goblin because up until the attack on Aunt May, there�d never been a sign that the Goblin had known who Spider-Man really was. Norman was the only one who knew. Norman had never betrayed him.

Norman had never wanted to hurt him. That was why he couldn�t be happy that the Green Goblin was dead. Because while the two resided in the same body, they were never the same person.

***

�Norman��

�Yes? Is there something I can do for you, Peter?�

Peter frowned. He�d just caught Norman leaving the apartment following his weekly check-up visit, about three quarters of which he�d spent on his cell phone and the rest lecturing Harry. He hadn�t paid any attention to Peter at all, which whilst not entirely unusual in that they rarely spoke with Harry in the room, was slightly odd; usually Norman spared him a small, private smile at the very least. But there�d been nothing.

�I just... I don�t know if Harry told you, but he�s supposed to be spending the weekend at MJ�s place. Just thought I�d let you know�.

Norman frowned slightly, just for a second, before what Peter had come to think of as his game face slipped back into place. It was a look he reserved for business, and usually Harry. Not him. Not for months now.

�Well, thank you, Peter�, Norman said. �I�ll keep that in mind�.

He left and Peter couldn�t help wondering if he�d done something wrong.

***

He realised that for weeks Norman Osborn hadn�t been himself. He realised that the first time he�d seen him in weeks had also been the last time. Peter had just thought they were growing apart, and now he knew the truth he felt like such a child. The last few weeks Norman hadn�t been Norman. He hadn�t heard from him because the Goblin hadn�t known that Norman had any reason to see Peter. Norman hadn�t given him up.

Thanksgiving. It was Thanksgiving, when that drop of blood hit the floor; that was when he knew. Peter should�ve known. The way Norman had acted afterwards, the way he�d stormed out, what he�s said about MJ � that wasn�t the Norman he knew, and Peter felt like a fool that he hadn�t seen it.

�Don�t tell Harry�. That was Norman. That �I�ve been like a father to you� bullshit � that was the Green Goblin.

Swinging quickly through the city, soaked, bloody, Peter wondered what Norman had had to suffer to keep his secret, to keep him safe as long as he had. How long had Norman had to keep a secret from the other half of himself? Too long. That was his one rebellion against the Goblin inside him, one thing that the Goblin had never known. It must have taken strength.

But in the end it hadn�t mattered. He hadn�t been strong enough.

Norman was just too weak. Now Peter would be strong.

***
End
***