One Word Meme, from Cordy and Kara

[abetterlie]

1. Your self:

Which?

2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (spouse):

Dogged

3. Your hair:

Growing

4. Your mother:

Complicated

5. Your Father:

Always

6. Your Favorite Item:

Letter

7. Your dream last night:

Ireland

8. Your Favorite drink:

Orange

9. Your Dream Car:

Thunderbird

10. The room you are in:

Comfortable

11. Your Ex:

Recovering

12. Your fear:

Karma


13. What you want to be in 10 years?

Mature

14. Who you hung out with last night?

Clayperson

15. What You're Not?

Innocent

16. Muffins:

No

17. One of Your Wish List Items:

Autograph

18. Time:

Fluid

19. The Last Thing You Did:

Fight

20. What You Are Wearing:

Boxers

21. Your Favorite Weather:

Clear

22. Your Favorite Book:

Salinger

23. The Last Thing You Ate:

Fries

24. Your Life:

Bought

25. Your Mood:

Wondering

26. Your best friend:

Cordelia

27. What are you thinking about right now?

Lots

28. Your car:

Sold

29. What are you doing at the moment?

Typing

30. Your summer:

Mummies!

31. Your relationship status:

Taken

32. What is on your TV?

News

33. What is the weather like?

Chilly

34. When is the last time you laughed?

Private

Comments

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

Sold?

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

I sort of had to, for the second rate in advance. But they said I could buy it back later.

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

I don't understand.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

Advance money for the apartment, Harry.

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

Awesome.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

*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."

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

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.

He gets up, brushes past Connor and grabs his phone before going back to the computer and calling the number found there.

"Yes, this is Harry Osborn. Your website asked that I verify my order."

There is the muffled sound of someone speaking and Harry continues to not look at Connor as he listens to what is being said.

"Yes, all of them. No, you can ship them to the address on the card. Yes, all six. No, that will be sufficient for now, but should I need another I will be sure to contact you."

He hangs up the phone and the look on his face is somewhere between smug, defiant, hurt, and enraged. He can't wait for Connor to fly to New York with him once his purchase arrives.

You see, Harry is very vindictive when he's angry. The car he originally bought for Connor was special to him. The fact that Connor was so determined to have Harry turn down Bruce's offer that he sold that car to pay for the apartment sets off Harry's temper in a way he hasn't had happen in a very long time. In fact, for a moment, he's really tempted to revisit his double bitch slap in public days, but Connor's reflexes are too fast for that.

Instead he ordered six classic thunderbird convertibles and arranged to have them delivered to the garage at his Manhattan building. It's a reckless and impulsive move that he knows screams 'spoiled millionaire playboy acts out', and that is exactly what he wants it to scream. Because this started with money and Harry intends to end it with money too.

"It's been handled," he finally says to Connor and that smirk on his face screams 'I dare you to ask me what I just did.'

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

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:

"It has?"

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

"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.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

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.

"And here I thought it would be purses," he says between clenched teeth. "For you to carry me around with."

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

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.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

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.

Not taking his eyes from Harry, he slowly raises his own left hand, touching his still stinging cheek and mouth before the pain disappears, then his neck.

"Are you sure you'd pick the right size?" he says softly.

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

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.

"Yeah," he says in broken tone. Tears spring to his eyes despite him not being the one who got hit. "I know your size."

He turns and walks away, not sure where he is headed, but completely aware that the emotional overload is erupting out of him like lava from a volcano. He's too sober, he thinks, but he hasn't done drugs in a long time.

Harry makes it to the bedroom and opens the closet, looking through it for something, anything to trigger where he should go. He isn't even checking to see if Connor has followed him. Club clothes? Pack a suitcase? Go to Wayne Manor? Manhattan? A hotel? Los Angeles? Another country? A million locations run through his mind, but none of them seem to work. Nothing sinks in fast enough so he sits on the floor in front of the closet, draws his knees up to his chest, and buries his face in his hands as he just lets go.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

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.

"I guess you do," he whispers.

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

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.

He kind of hates that he didn't go into the bathroom, lock the door, and run the shower to cover some of this up too. Part of that is due to not wanting to give Connor the satisfaction of seeing him break. Part of it is preferring to deal with his emotions on his own terms.

It's when he manages to breath without doing that little kid sucking in air between sobs thing that he hates that Harry gets up, walks into the bathroom and runs the cold water in the sink to splash on his face to clean up. When he catches his reflection in the mirror, he isn't bothered by the scar on his face as much as he is by how rough he looks. Dark circles under red eyes isn't attractive on anyone. Not even Harry Osborn.

"I'm tired," he says, as he walks back into the bedroom and goes straight for the bar. It's a full glass of his best scotch because he doesn't want to measure out three fingers full. Fuck it. It's not drugs, but it will do. "Don't worry about the cars. I'll auction them off to charity."

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

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.

He makes himself look at the wall and remembers the many hours of painting. Remembers arranging and rearranging the furniture sent from New York and Savannah so Harry would feel comfortable the first time he came in. Remembers how difficult it had been to find this place, something Harry wouldn't be ashamed of or would feel it was second class.

And then he shuts the memories down, as he does the voice reminding him he had his chance of atonment, again, and failed it, again, prefering to let another man free him with a fake confession. He has no idea what do do about most other things, including the originally sold Thunderbird and how Harry feels about that. He doesn't know what more to do regarding the billionaire club, either, because he had been polite and friendly with Bruce, and clearly this still isn't enough. There is, however, one definite thing he can do.

"Okay," he says. "I don't think they'll be surprised if I tell them they can have this place back, it kind of came with a warning because the last owner went crazy. We can move to the other apartment any time you want to."

And now it's his turn to blink away something that certainly can't be tears, and keep his face turned to the wall so Harry doesn't see it.

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

"No," He says, and it's not because Connor is crying that Harry refuses. Because it's not even the apartment anymore. It's everything.

"I already declined that offer and to go back now and ask for it, it doesn't change anything. I'm just tired, Connor. I'm so fucking tired of never getting it right."

There is a lot of things that have been going through his head lately. Things that he still isn't sure he has figured out. Old mistakes that have come back and cost him things he isn't really able to handle losing.

"It was never about not liking this place, Connor. It was never about that, and I can't explain what it is about. Or why it's tied in with a lot of other things. All I know is I'm tired of feeling like I'm choosing one thing or the other, but that is my problem. I want it all, and life isn't like that. You don't get to have it all and if you make a choice you gotta stand behind it and accept the consequences."

And he really is tired. The liquor burns all the way down, but he's not sure if he was ever cold.

"You can't change who you are anymore than I can change who I am. I'm not any different from any other pampered prince, Connor. This is my true self. I never thought it was going to come down to money with you and me, and then one day it was about money. It doesn't matter if it's Bruce's money or mine, it was still money, and I kind of hate you a little for that. But you know, whatever, cause I hate him a little right now and I hate myself a lot. I miss Lex and kind of want to smash his face in for making me hate him now too and just fucking once I wish I could be indifferent or not emotional, but I'm not wired that way."

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

There are about a million things he could say, and none. That he never wanted to make Harry choose, only if that was the case, why had it been so important to him that Harry gave him the freedom of choosing their place to live? Why had he been so happy about it, just as happy as he had been when Cordelia said "I want to stay with Connor" to Angel a few years ago? That it wasn't about money, only Harry was right, was he. It sort of was, at least the feeling owned part of it, and maybe one reason why he got over his initial rivalry with Peter was that Peter wasn't a millionaire. And maybe he never would have gotten over it anyway if Harry had still idolized Peter the way he did Bruce. That he really had been okay with Lex after the prison conversation and their ensuing chat in the library and hadn't hated him until Lex turned against Harry, but that would be wrong, too, because Harry didn't want to hear anything against Lex, either. No more than Connor, even at the times when he hated Angel most, would have allowed anyone else to hurt him.

That he keeps feeling he doesn't get it right, either, but that isn't helpful, is it?

"You don't want to be indifferent, Harry," Connor says, and turns around. "I've been there. Being empty, feeling nothing, that's the worst. You don't want that."

He gets up from the floor.

"I don't know how to fix things for you, or even how not to do things anymore that piss you off," he says.

It was part of what made it real. All those people who claimed to love Jasmine had been in perpetual harmony with each other, but they had turned against her and each other as soon as they saw the truth. As if the truth, imperfect as it was, wasn't worthy of love just as much if not more.

"And I guess you're right, I started out being pissed off at you the first time we met because I had all kind of prejudices, and maybe I have them still. But you know what, that's the you I fell in love with. The pampered prince."

While talking, he wanders around the room, collecting the jeans and sweatshirt he had gotten out earlier before checking on his evening mail, and gets back into it.

"Can I have a glass of water, please?"

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

"Actually, Connor, I'd love to be numb right now. All I keep thinking about is it would be easier to make a couple of calls, score the drugs I want, and make it all go numb."

It's an admission he hadn't planned to make, but they are talking now so he figures honesty is owed at least. Standing up, he sets his half finished drink on the nightstand and walks over to the bar to fix Connor a glass of water. He notices that Connor is getting dressed. There is a part of him that is still angry and vindictive and he wants to taunt him and ask if this is where he leaves and brings another Chilton into their lives. But he isn't going to cross that line. He doesn't want to make it worse than it is.

Handing Connor the glass, he climbs back up on the bed, rests his back around the headboard, draws his knees up to his chest, and wraps his arms around them. He's not crying anymore and he isn't trying to hide his face.

"I don't know what to tell you, Connor. I'm pissed. I'm so angry and so hurt, and I can't separate anything right now. It's all colliding together and I don't know what to do. I tried to run once, and it didn't fix anything. I could tell you that I just really needed you to let me take Bruce's offer when it was offered, but that doesn't change that you needed me to turn it down. It's done. I made a choice, and I need to own it, but I can't seem to tell him to get rid of it in auction. I want to be able to say it and mean it, but I can't find the fucking words. Anymore than I can tell you that I know how to fix this between us, but I don't know how to fix it. I really don't know."

Harry looks down at his hands and thinks about Cordelia and Thanksgiving. How things had gotten so out of control before Bruce put him in check. Then he kept his thoughts to himself until he lashed out at Connor online.

"I don't think Cordelia is a whore." It's a change in subject, but it has been laying it wait ever since he made his comment to Connor. "I think when it comes to the Madonna and whore theory with Cordy, you and me, she's the Madonna and I'll always be the whore. I don't think you want her back. I don't think she is trying to win you back. Sometimes I wish that when you look at me you see half of what you see when you look at her, but I know if you did then you wouldn't be seeing the real me. I was just angry and needed to lash out, and well I don't like her very much so she was an easy target. She's the easiest way to hurt you."

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

No, you don't, Connor thinks, when Harry says he'd love to be numb, which might be because he doesn't have the drug experience or even the one with sedatives Harry has and associates "numb" with nothing but the horrible suicidal emptiness he remembers far too well. But thoughts of that are driven out of his head when Harry continues talking. He takes what Harry has to say in, emptying the glass of water, and lets it sink in. There is an involuntary spark of bleak amusement when Harry first says "madonna" and "whore", because there is an obvious irony here, several times over. That was what Chilton had taunted Connor with: being nothing more than a rent boy for Harry. That had been the general assumption in New York among Harry's circle of aquaintances for quite a while. Going back further, that had been how Connor had felt sometimes during those months before Harry had ended his romance with Kara; the whore to Kara's Madonna. Actually, he thinks Kara never stopped being a madonna for Harry, but he realizes something else now when Harry uses the terms referring to Cordelia and himself. Which has to wait for another minute. Because the main point isn't really that, it's what Harry says about having wanted to hurt Connor through Cordelia. This is raw, and a big admission, so he responds in kind.

"I wanted to hurt you earlier. With the stuff about purses," Connor says, and goes through the closet as if looking for something, which is not something Connor, Mr. "why not just put all one's pants and shirts in a cuboard and grab the one on top" ever does. "Not really because of the slap. I guess I'm angry as well because I'm trying, Harry, I'm really trying, and sometimes you make me feel that it it just isn't good enough. Talk about madonnas and whores."

Then he has found one of the things he was looking for. Not a coat; he's not planning to get outside anymore tonight, balcony excepted. What he looked for is the shirt Harry was wearing when he got arrested in Savannah, the only one not brand new. It's been cleaned, but to Connor, the traces of blood stains are still there, from that night in prison Harry had to spend there. He can see them, as visible to him as Harry's scars, new and old.

"But you know, that's because you and I are both stupid. Because neither of us sees any whores at all. And let me tell you something about Cordy, and what I see when I see her. And you."

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

His face is deeply serious as he walks, shirt in hand, to the bed, sitting down on the foot of the bed. When he speaks, it is in a very low voice, hesitant, somewhat rough, because he has never verbalized this before, and it is incredibly hard to say.

"I never said this to anyone before, least of all her. I couldn't. When I see her, I see my first friend in this world, yes, and my first love, a wonderful woman, maybe the most wonderful on the planet. Yes, I see all that. But you know what else I see? I see her telling me my father hates me, I see her telling me to kill him, I see her telling me to help her kill a girl that looks like my mother. And I see our daughter who made her do all that. And I wonder who kissed me and made love to me every freaking time I think that, which of them, and whether I helped Jasmine rape Cordelia or whether there was enough of her there, even in the end, so she helped Jasmine to make me into a monster, and either way, whether there is any way what I did with Cordelia wasn't the worst kind of incest you can think of. That's what I see when I look at Cordelia as well, and it poisons every good memory I have of her at that time. And every time we meet now it gets a bit easier, because somehow she doesn't see that when she looks at me and still treats me as her friend, because we could salvage something from that time and make it into something sane and good, and because I can keep those thoughts from her. But they never goes away."

By now, he feels as emotionally drained and exhausted as Harry. His fingers, both hands, are clenched around the shirt; his knuckles are white.

"You," he whispers. "You have no idea of the power you have over me. Because you could have made me do all that, but you didn't. When I look at you, I see someone who drives me mad at times, sure, but someone who never lied to me. Someone who never used me. Someone who made it through a year with me and got hurt and faced everything he was ever afraid of and is still there. That's what I see when I look at you, Harry Osborn. And what that makes you isn't a madonna or a whore. It makes you my hero."

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

Harry listens to everything and tries to make sense of things he won't ever understand. If Connor and Cordy lived it and don't get it, someone who is just hearing about it can't possibly grasp it. Connor loves his daughter though, despite it all, and if there is something he is sure of...it's that Cordelia didn't really want Connor to hurt his father or kill some innocent girl. He may not like her, but she isn't evil.

"I think that if Cordelia is able to be in the same room with you and trust you enough to be a friend, then you didn't rape her. To be violated that way...you can forgive someone, sure, but you can't trust them again. Never again."

And maybe that isn't enough of an answer to ever ease Connor's mind, but it's all he has to offer. Because he can't really answer for something he wasn't a part of.

"Don't make me your hero. It will be the fastest way for you to do what most people do down the line; to leave. It's not that I don't trust you, because I do, but I am capable of fucking things up in ways you can't imagine, Connor. I fucked Lionel Luthor and it made Lex freeze me out. And maybe he will never completely cut me off, but he'll never pull me back the way he used too. I miss him so much and I need him, but that doesn't change the fact I am the one who fucked it up."

And he wants to say what is on his mind with Bruce, but he feels like it would be a violation to Bruce. Especially given how they feel about each other. So, he tries to put it in terms that don't expose too much.

"I hurt the people I love when I don't mean too. Then there are times when I know it will hurt them, but what I want is more important than their feelings so I do it anyway. Or I choose someone over someone else and it sucks. Because I want to be able to say, I didn't mean to hurt you, but intent doesn't matter once the damage is done. You make me happy and you piss me off and god I love you so much that it makes me homicidal at times, but I accepted the ring Connor. I know what it means and I knew when I put it on what I was doing. Osborns don't divorce. I told you that before. I'm just feeling really overwhelmed right now and I want a quick fix to make it go away. But I promised a lot of people I wouldn't go down that road again so I'm trying to fight it. I love you and I trust you and the other shit will work itself out eventually, but right now I'm just fighting the urge not to pick up the phone and make the pain go away."

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

He doesn't say he won't leave again. He promised that during the Griffin affair, and he's sure Harry hasn't forgotten. It's all mingling in his head anyway, the past, the present, and he listens more to Harry's voice which is and always was a lifeline to sanity, with its utter inability to disguise emotions, than to the actual words. Though he hears them as well. Right now, he thinks the "but what I want is more important than their feelings, so I do it anyawy" refers to Kara because he knows Harry never stopped feeling guilty for that; once he's slept over it, he'll come to wonder whether it refers to Bruce as well, and the apartment, and what it says about Bruce to know he really does care about it.

"I can't fix the Lex thing," he says. "And I have no idea what to do about the rest. But you know, one thing I'm good at is to have your back when you're fighting."

He stands up again, walks round the bed, sits down next to Harry this time and takes his hand, the one where he's wearing the ring, and quickly kisses it. It's not a gesture meant to initialize sex; they're both too tired and too drained for that. It's simply the response to hearing Harry say "I love you and I trust you", and that Osborns don't divorce; love and gratitude given form.

Letting go of the hand, he says: "So this is probably a lame strategy, and it doesn't solve anything, but how are you at Monopoly? Tired or not, I don't think either of us can sleep right now, and it's sort of addictive and distracting, and something for the next hours anyway."

[osborn-heir.livejournal.com]

"Okay, but you should probably be banker. I cheat." But he kind of had too when he used to play with Lex. Lex was always a win at all costs guy, even in board games, and he didn't believe in the do-overs that Harry's mother gave him.

And while checking his mail a little into the game, he'll see comments from Lex that lead to...a truce of sorts, no matter how temporary it may be, Harry will be grateful for it. And he'll head to Metropolis because it turns out that while it wasn't one of the places that hit him when he was standing in front of the closet before, once the invitation is extended, he won't be able to say no. He knows that Connor will understand, and probably even be grateful for the slight break in a cycle of stuff the two of them have been dealing with lately.

[kara-marie.livejournal.com]

You should have taken the BMW back with you, then.

[abetterlie.livejournal.com]

That's yours. Plus I'll get mine back later, I got a job here so I'm starting to earn some money again, and in the meantime, it's easier to get to know a new city on foot anyway.

[kara-marie.livejournal.com]

I can't drive it anyway. And you let your dog pee on it and it smells weird ever since then.