Lacuna (Spiderman X reader)

Chapter 17

~

It wasn't difficult to get into Harry Osborn's penthouse apartment. A.I.M. had given you the information you needed in order to get in unnoticed—all of the security was centered around indoor entrances, and the alarm system on the windows was easy to disable, at least it was for you. Breaking in through the terrace was a piece of cake.

The inside of the penthouse was not quite what you'd pictured for a rich young business inheritor. It looked like a real home, albeit a luxurious one, and not a showy bachelor pad. The couches and chairs were charcoal gray, decorated with colorful throw pillows, which contrasted with the snow-white walls and rich brown wooden floors. The surfaces were minimalist, sleek and unpresumptuous, and he even had a few fairly interesting art pieces on the larger wall spaces. Of course, there were elements that pointed to the resident being a rich young man in his twenties, like the gargantuan television and gaming apparatus tucked away in the media center.

According to the schedule you'd been sent, he wouldn't be home for at least forty-five minutes. So you poked around a bit. After scanning over and poking around the living room, you went to check out the other rooms. There were two bedrooms, one matching the general appearance of the house, though with more personal touches, the other obviously a guest room. The bathroom was almost half as big as the bedroom you had at your apartment with Stacy, and you found the size of the shower almost abhorrent, though you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to use it. The kitchen was an open space attached onto the living room. Marble counters, state of the art kitchen appliances, huge shiny steel refrigerator. On the fridge were various simple black magnets holding up pictures that Harry apparently liked enough to put on display. You looked over them, noting a theme. They were all of him and his friends or his father. Harry with Peter and a pretty big-eyed blonde girl at highschool graduation, smiling at the camera, another of the three of them laughing at graduation, clearly at something Peter said. Harry and Peter and the same girl ice-skating—Peter with his arm around her. One of Harry on vacation with his father, Norman. Harry in a suit standing proudly while Norman shook a woman's hand, her beaming with teeth as white as her labcoat. Harry with Peter at a funeral, solemn, an arm around Peter who had clearly been crying. A yearbook photo of the blonde girl, which turned out to be on a pamphlet—you took it down and opened it, curious.

It was a memorial pamphlet. You saw the words "In memory of Gwen Stacy" and couldn't look further. This wasn't just Harry's business, it was Peter's, and he would tell you about her when he wanted you to know. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at the picture of Peter at what must have been her funeral.

There was another picture of a funeral, though this was along with an article about Norman Osborn's tragic death. You turned away from the refrigerator and sat on one of the couches, facing the entrance to the penthouse, waiting for Harry Osborn to come home.

You didn't have to wait long, having spent quite a bit of time looking around the apartment when you had arrived. Harry came home only seven minutes after you'd taken your seat on his couch.

The front door was around a short corner, hiding the living room from view. Harry's arrival was announced by the sound of keys turning in the lock, and the door swung open.

"-know, babe, it's okay. Nah, I'll just go with Peter, he's finally seeing someone again and I want to meet whoever it is." A pause, as the front door closed and you heard his footsteps approach. "Yeah, I understand. I'll see you when you get back. I miss you too." There was the soft click of a light switch and all of the lights came on in the kitchen and living room. Harry rounded the corner, pocketing his phone, and froze as he saw you, legs crossed and seated on his couch, one arm across the back, the other casually examining one of the pillows on his couch. You glanced up at him.