( for bringstheheat )

[goblinjr]

The trip from New York to Central City had been easier than Harry thought it would be.

Still not easy, because Peter and MJ had insisted on saying good-bye to him one last time before he left. They got upset, and that made Harry upset, too-- even with the promise that he'd keep in touch with them. No matter how many ridiculous hoops it might take jumping through to keep in touch without Norman catching him, they were his best friends and he could at least manage that. In fact, to Harry's surprise, those were the only tears he shed that night. He thought he'd be more upset about leaving his dad, but Leonard had planned the "escape" from Osborn manor so well that it made it easy to leave. More than that, this is what Harry wanted.

There were no regrets, and there still aren't.

By now, Harry's starting to settle and get a feel for his surroundings. He still has yet to meet the infamous Mick he's heard so much about, but... Really, he's not too bent out of shape about it. As much as he's intrigued by this guy who means so much to Len, it's also kind of hard not to be intimidated with everything Harry's heard, and he's already conjured up this idea of Mick that may or may not be worse than he actually is. Leonard headed out earlier - something to do with the job he was currently on, Harry supposed. Either way, that means Harry's left to his own devices for a bit in one of the safe houses. Not a big deal in and of itself. Len's gone out of his way to make him feel safe and comfortable, for which Harry is endlessly grateful to him. Accordingly, Harry's curled up on the couch - his back to the door - with a book and some Cheerios that he's decided to eat straight out of the box.

When he hears the door open and footsteps heading in, Harry doesn't even think twice about it. "Hey, handsome," is his cheerful greeting. He sets about marking his place in his book before craning his neck back against the arm of the couch to peer at the door upside down. "How-- ACK!" The sight he's greeted with is a significantly larger man, looking very rough and gruff. Definitely not Len. Harry sits up with so much force that his reading glasses half-flop off his face, dangling lopsided over his nose. The box of Cheerios launch off his lap, sending a small spray of cereal to the floor.

"You're not Len," he points out unnecessarily, staring in surprise.

And by his amazing skills of deduction, that can only mean that this is probably the one and only Mick Rory. It was only a matter of time before they met, but Harry'd been kind of hoping Leonard would be around when it happened.