Work Text:
The call comes when Eddie is trying to wrestle the lock of his apartment into submission while balancing his laptop, a stack of files, two take-out bags, and a tub of ice cream he’s crammed underneath his chin, the whole lot sliding precariously to one side as he twitches towards his back pocket on instinct. Venom ends up saving their dinner, several tendrils shooting from Eddie’s chest and snatching up the bags while another easily twists open the lock Eddie still has problems with after a month of living here.
“Thank you,” Eddie says absently, finally extracting his phone as he kicks the door shut behind him.
You’re welcome.
Dropping his laptop and files onto the counter, Eddie manages to swipe the green button on the third try, fingers still wet with condensation from the ice cream. “Eddie Brock.”
There’s a small pause on the other end. “Eddie. I didn’t think you were going to pick up.”
“My hands were full,” Eddie says, a little stunned. He hasn’t heard from Anne since that conversation on her doorstep, months ago. The ripple of amusement from Venom as the manifested tendrils gently place their take-out on the small kitchen table jolts him into action, and he opens the freezer so Venom can shove the ice cream inside, quickly closing it before the rest of their frozen stuff can protest the stacking by tumbling onto the tiles. He rubs at the back of his neck. “What’s up?”
He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. What’s up? Apparently five months of distance haven’t made him less awkward around her. His only consolation is that she sounds as thrown as he is, her voice tinny and hesitant over the line.
“I was wondering whether you might want to have dinner with me. With us, I mean. The three of us. You, me and Dan.”
Eddie doesn’t blurt out the first thing that pops into his head, which is ‘Fuck no’, and takes a second to congratulate himself on his impulse control. Venom uses his momentary distraction to drag open the bag from Jiu’s, dodging Eddie’s hand as he tries to smack him away.
“I don’t know, Anne,” Eddie finally manages, wondering how the hell you were supposed to navigate this part of adulthood. He’s in his mid-thirties, he should have a clue by now, shouldn’t he? “It’s not really a good time, I’ve got a lot on my plate at work.”
Not even a lie. He’s got work coming out of his ass, which is fine, he likes it that way. Also, there’s the small matter of hunting down despicable human beings, so his alien symbiote can have something to snack on regularly. Keeps a guy busy.
“Please, Eddie. It would mean a lot to us.” Anne’s voice has gone soft, earnest, and it hits him low in the gut, bypassing his defenses completely.
Say yes.
You just want this over with so you can have dinner, Eddie thinks at him. Venom doesn’t even bother denying it.
Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s never been good at telling Anne no. No one is, really. There’s a reason a firm like Michelinie & McFarlane snatched her up right out of law school. She usually gets what she wants.
“Okay, sure,” he says. “When?”
“You’re coming?” Now she sounds surprised. “This Friday, if that works for you? At our place.”
Our place. That still stings, and for a moment Eddie wants to tell her no, Friday’s no good, he’ll call her once he’s free and let this whole thing get swallowed up by inconvenience and busy calendars. It wouldn’t be hard. But he owes Anne, and he knows she wouldn’t ask if this weren’t important to her.
“I’ll be there.”
“Great!” she says and her enthusiasm still can’t completely mask the surprise beneath. She obviously expected to have to lean on him a lot harder. “We’ll see you then.”
“Sure,” Eddie says. “Bye, Annie.”
Dropping into the kitchen chair he bought just two weeks ago to go with most of his new furniture, Eddie rubs at his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. He was looking forward to tonight. For one, he’s pretty certain the stack of files he got from one of the IT guys at Winston Pharmaceutical is going to crack open his work on their dodgy connections with US Congressmen. He’s got the good take-out from Jiu’s for dinner, planning to feed them both while working. Mostly to increase his chance of Venom allowing him to actually get something done before dragging him off to…well. Proceed with the most pleasant portion of their nightly routine.
The bright spark of amusement isn’t his own, and Eddie flushes, rubbing at the back of his neck as he feels an answering prickle there. Venom likes how uncomfortable the topic still makes him, the way he stutters over it even within his own mind. Venom likes making him uncomfortable, period, and Eddie knows he should mind a lot more than he actually does. Which leads him right back to being uncomfortable. At least the subject usually goes unspoken between them, their agreement, which Eddie likes to refer to as the ‘no dating policy’, holding tentative but firmly for now.
You don’t want to go.
Eddie snorts, opening the carton with the eggrolls. “Apparently you want to.”
Anne will be there.
“Yeah, so will Dan,” Eddie mumbles through his first mouthful, burning the tip of his tongue in his eagerness. His hunger is a lot more visceral these days.
She wants to see you.
“She feels obligated.”
Don’t go then. Impatient now and it makes Eddie pause. Venom used to put a lot more effort into convincing Eddie they had to try and fight for Anne.
“She’d want to know why.”
Tell her the truth. Tell her that looking at her is like swallowing a pack of razor blades. That you’d rather have your guts ripped out and strewn across an alleyway somewhere. That getting a scythe shoved through your chest hurt less than the day she gave you back the ring.
Jesus.
“Thank you for that,” Eddie says drily.
The truth is, that’s not exactly why he’s so reluctant. Yes, it’s hard and he doubts that the feeling of his heart being squeezed from his chest will ever fully go away when he’s with Anne, but mostly he’s afraid of what she’ll see. She’s always been way too observant where Eddie’s concerned.
He grabs another egg roll. “She might suspect something.”
We’re always careful. Definitely sulky now. Venom is forever annoyed at the number of rules Eddie imposes on their cohabitation.
Eddie sighs. “I don’t want us to get caught. We’d spent the rest of our life being poked at in a lab, if they let us be together at all. Do you want that?”
A bristling sensation runs along his spine, the equivalent to a cat raising its hackles. I’ll bite the head off anyone who tries to lay a finger on us, Eddie.
Eddie’s mouth quirks up, charmed in spite of himself. “I know.”
Can we watch TV now?
“You can, I still need to work.”
He flicks on the big entertainment set he got with his first pay check from MBMN, carefully calibrated by the sound guy Eddie hired to avoid certain frequencies. Venom loves watching television and he’s mostly content to take corporal form when he does, so Eddie can do something else. He manifests now, warmth rushing from between Eddie’s shoulder blades until the nightmare Eddie’s privately dubbed floaty face is facing him.
How long?
Eddie pats the files. “Just let me get this done, I’ll be quick.”
Venom still won’t budge, bobbing forward until he’s drifting just inches from Eddie’s nose. Trying to look at him makes him go cross-eyed and he leans back, raising an eyebrow.
“Something you needed?”
Venom’s eyes narrow, and Eddie kisses him before he can plot his revenge or get any bright ideas about taking control and not allowing him to get any work done at all. Recently, Venom has taken a liking to this, and Eddie certainly isn’t complaining. It’s nothing at all like kissing another human, the heart rate increasing prospect of all those teeth offset by having that slick, clever tongue lick into his mouth (and throat if Venom feels like suppressing their gag reflex), sparking a bright, singing pleasure that’s hard to resist, even harder to pull away from. It’s bizarre, exhilarating, and overwhelming, like pretty much every other interaction with Venom. Eddie wonders what it says about him that he likes it so much.
Once they’re parted, Venom contentedly slinks up to perch on Eddie’s shoulder until he can see the TV. His tongue flicks out lazily to run over the shell of Eddie’s ear until he shivers.
“Work,” Eddie reminds him, already a little breathless.
Better hurry then.
*
There are probably more awkward situations than ringing your own doorbell, but standing in front of the apartment he used to be very proud of having hunted down in the insane Bay Area renting situation, Eddie can’t really think of any. The bottle of wine he’s holding already has prints of his too-sweaty hands on it, and of course Dan opens the door right as Eddie is trying to discreetly wipe them of on his sleeve, leaving him to awkwardly stick it under his arm like that’s the motion he was going for in the first place. At the back of his mind Eddie can feel something from Venom, and he has the sinking feeling it might be embarrassment. Eddie can’t blame him. He’s not really too happy to be associated with himself right now either.
Dan looks fresh and clean-cut in his jeans and button-down, and Eddie instantly feels just a bit grubby in comparison, never mind that he’s wearing nearly the same thing.
You look good.
Eddie blinks, the remark unexpected. Venom was extremely subdued as he got them ready and even during the ride over here. Eddie appreciated the seldom show of restraint, already nervy without the constant acidic commentary his companion usually enjoyed to bestow upon him. He doesn’t get a chance to try and reply, Dan already waving him in with a smile on his face that is too warm to be anything but honest.
“You’re right on time, dinner’s almost ready. Hope you like lasagna!”
Eddie smiles back, and it’s easier than he thought it would be. “Is there anyone that doesn’t?”
Venom harrumphs.
Be nice, Eddie thinks.
I’m always nice. I bet it’s organic.
For all that he usually tries to talk Eddie into consuming meat while it’s still in a position to fight back, Venom has shown his dislike for much of the food fads that tend towards healthier living, preferring processed stuff over freshly bought. Eddie still hasn’t quite figured out what ingredient he’s after exactly, Venom’s description not helping matters much. Dr. Skirth probably could have told him, but the Life Foundation’s research on symbiotes mysteriously vanished as they tried to salvage what little of their reputation was left. It’s a good thing Venom is increasingly willing to let Eddie eat stuff he actually likes, feeding off his contentment in the meantime. There’s a good chance he might have developed scurvy already otherwise.
He realizes they’re still standing in the hallway and quickly hands over the wine, hoping Dan interprets his hesitation as nerves and nothing more. Living with Venom has increased his already existing tendency to space out of his surroundings, and he can’t afford for Dan or Anne to find anything suspicious about his behavior. They won’t write it off as eccentricity, not with all that they witnessed at the hospital.
“Eddie!”
He turns to see Anne standing in the doorway, looking lovely in a dress Eddie hasn’t ever seen her wear. It hurts, an irrevocable reminder that things have changed. He somehow manages another smile.
“Annie. You look good.”
“So do you,” Anne says, and the surprise in her words reminds him once again just how bad things had gotten when they last saw each other.
“You do,” Dan agrees. Eddie is thankful for the excuse to redirect his attention, ducking his head a little when he sees the uncomplicated warmth in Dan’s expression.
“Thank you.”
Sure, you’ll believe it when it’s coming from them.
Dan lays a hand on his shoulder, gently ushering him further into the apartment. “Come on, the dining room’s through here.”
Eddie knows he shouldn’t, but as usual, his mouth is quicker than his common sense. “I know.”
Instantly he feels like a jackass, Dan looking embarrassed while Anne favors Eddie with a pointed look.
“Of course you do.”
Surprisingly, that’s about as awkward as it gets as the night proceeds. The food is good and Venom for once doesn’t complain, leaving Eddie to field the conversation that flows easily once they get onto the topic of work. Dan freely recounts stories from his residency, and when Eddie hesitantly enquires after Anne’s new job, he’s relieved to find her excited instead of resentful. As she tells them about one of her clients, a young woman wrongfully arrested after she’d been sexually assaulted and fought back, Eddie can clearly see the person he fell in love with, her genuine happiness at helping people who usually get no help at all from the system, tugging painfully at his heart.
“What about you? Anne tells me you’re working for MBMN again?” Dan’s question jerks Eddie out of what is probably a too-long moment of looking at his ex-fiancé, and he takes another swig from his wine glass, hoping to cover it.
“As one of the staff writers for their online presence.” He pairs a self-deprecating smile with a shrug. “It’s nice, I can afford toilet paper again.”
Dan laughs, but Anne doesn’t crack so much as a smile, leaning across the table towards him. “Did you move out of that hellhole?”
Eddie resents that, for all that she’s right. “I got a new place, still in North Beach though.”
Their new apartment is more private, one of its windows leading right into a narrow alley they’ve been using as an exit and entrance for their nightly excursions. It’s not nearly as run down as his previous place, but it doesn’t compare to their immediate surroundings, the beautifully restored rooms speaking to the budget of two highly paid professionals. The thought brings a little regret, though Eddie knows he’d make the same choice all over again. Writing suits their new imperative of flying under the radar much better than a revival of the Eddie Brock Report, but it’s a far cry from TV money.
Anne frowns. “Why?”
“I like it there,” Eddie says simply.
Anne’s expression clearly shows how much she thinks of that, but she doesn’t press. “There’s a rumor going around at the courthouse. Apparently you’re going to San Quentin to interview Cletus Kasady.”
Eddie hesitates. One of the conditions the FBI gave him was to keep his mouth shut, but obviously that train had left its particular station. “He asked for me.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s an exclusive idea,” Eddie says, the grin he’s been reliably informed makes people want to punch it square off his face, curling the corner of his mouth.
Anne narrows her eyes. “Most people he’s been interested in end up dead.”
“He won’t be able to do much behind bars.”
Also, Venom would definitely eat him, if he tried.
With pleasure.
Eddie hides a smile against his palm.
Anne looks like she wants to say something, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize what that conflicted line between her eyebrows stands for: her impulse to reprimand him for what she’s always seen as deliberate recklessness being tempered by the knowledge that it isn’t exactly her place to do that anymore. It makes him sadder than he thought possible, no matter how many fights this particular issue caused between them in the past, and just then he wants her to tell him he’s acting like a fucking idiot, just like the old days. She doesn’t.
Instead the conversation turns to other topics and as their plates empty and the mood slowly grows into something approaching ease, Eddie tentatively chalks this evening up as a strike for the win column, unlikely as that prospect seemed just hours ago. Perhaps this truly was what adulthood looked like.
Only as he tries to help clear the table, Anne waves him off, exchanging a glance with Dan that’s clearly meant to communicate something. Every hair at the back of Eddie’s neck stands up, the same instincts that have made him one of the most obnoxious reporters on the West Coast screaming at him that something is happening here.
Dan clears his throat. “I put some tiramisu to cool out on the patio, can you give me a hand, Eddie?
The asshole in him wants to ask why that would be a two-man job, but Eddie contents himself with a long look at Anne, who has trouble meeting his eyes all of a sudden. “Sure.”
The patio is mostly the same, though there is a lot more greenery than Eddie remembers.
“I like orchids,” says Dan, following his gaze.
“Clearly,” Eddie says, unable not to think back on the sad little shrub he’d nursed to its untimely death in spite of his best efforts. Looking at the lush plants all around him, Eddie can’t help but feel it’s a sad metaphor for his entire existence.
Dan nods and he’s nervous, Christ, doing all but wringing his hands to keep himself in check. The warning bells in Eddie’s mind have grown into goddamn sirens and somehow he knows, knows before Dan says the words, almost tripping over his tongue in his haste to get them out.
“Anne and I are getting married.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, mind empty except for Venom, who curls hot and close beneath his skin, making his presence known.
Dan is watching him, eyebrows knit together in what Eddie thinks might be unhappiness. “We’ve started telling people and Anne didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. She thought this way- well, she knows you best, so.”
She thought this way they could make sure poor Eddie wouldn’t go off the deep end again. It’s a nasty thought, its truth eating Eddie down to the bone as he tries to draw together what’s left of his tattered dignity.
“Yeah, no, I get it,” he hears himself say, and for a moment he wonders wildly if Venom has seized control of his vocal cords to make him sound so calm. Somehow he offers his hand for Dan to shake. “Listen, congratulations.”
Dan looks stunned, the hand not in Eddie’s clasping his shoulder as he smiles at him with obvious relief. “Thank you, Eddie.”
A plaintive yowl interrupts them and as they glance towards the noise, Mr. Belvedere appears in all his mangy glory, scowling at them from his perch on the patio wall. Eddie has honestly never been so glad to see that dumb cat in his life.
“He probably shouldn’t be out here anymore,” Dan says and the hesitant tone tells Eddie that for all that this man has bested him nearly effortlessly in every other aspect of his life, he at least doesn’t seem to have managed to forge a better relationship with Anne’s capricious pet.
“I’ll grab him,” he offers, making a vague gesture as if to imply how he intends to manage such a feat. “You go on ahead.”
To his credit, Dan doesn’t call him out on his obvious desire to escape the conversation, just grabs the tiramisu dish from the patio table before heading back inside. “Thanks, Eddie.”
That leaves Eddie by himself, uselessly clicking his tongue to get Mr. Belvedere’s attention as he prowls through the neat row of plants, busily ignoring Eddie. The fact that he’s standing on what was once his patio trying to cajole what was once his cat in order not to have to face the woman who used to be his fiancé and the man she is going to marry feels like the punchline to a very bad and overly convoluted joke that nevertheless has the potential to make him howl with desperate laughter. Eddie pushes it away, concentrates on the only thing he can do for now.
“C’mere, buddy.”
Mr. Belvedere gives him an unimpressed stare before he starts grooming himself. Eddie sighs. He’s not particularly impressed with himself right now.
Let me.
Eddie startles, realizing that this is the first time in a very long while he’s genuinely forgotten his mind doesn’t just belong to himself anymore. Before he can enumerate all the ways this is a bad idea, Venom stretches beyond his skin, a long inky spill that slinks towards the cat in that sinuous, faintly horrifying manner that screams ‘alien’ and ‘intelligent’ just by catching a glimpse of it. Miraculously, Mr. Belvedere doesn’t react the way Eddie’s seen every other animal do in Venom’s presence, regarding the approaching mass with no small amount of curiosity, one paw still in the air, his grooming halted in mid-motion.
Eddie has faint visions of numerous horror movies he’s seen over the years, expecting Mr. Belvedere to hiss and bolt, making his feline ancestors proud with his instinctive response to unfathomable danger. He blinks as the cat headbutts the viscous manifestation instead, like Venom’s just another thing to be incorporated into his territory. Eddie tries not to take it personally, just shakes his head in disbelief as Venom carefully envelops Mr. Belvedere and delivers him safely into Eddie’s arms, retreating back into his skin.
“You’re a dumb little fucker, you know that?” Eddie tells Mr. Belvedere, who just purrs in response.
Stupid name for a cat.
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie says. “What would you name one?”
Salem.
The answer is delivered so promptly it startles a laugh out of Eddie and once he starts he has trouble stopping, the ridiculousness of the situation overtaking him. There’s a familiar rush of otherness, the skin below his collarbone growing hot and then strangely numb as Venom takes his form, too many teeth shining brightly in the faint light out here. Eddie wants to tell him he’s being an idiot, the glass patio doors leaving them open to discovery at any moment, but his throat is a little too tight for speech all of a sudden. His eyes feel hot and he blinks, the nightmare vision in front of him swimming in and out of focus. There’s a warm, raspy touch against his cheek and as Venom’s tongue retreats, Eddie can taste a trace of salt, like the echo of an actual sensation.
Let’s get this over with.
The words shake Eddie out of his stupor, and he crosses the small distance to put Belvedere on the window sill to the bedroom, giving him a slight nudge. Watching him disappear through the cracked window with his bushy tail waving in the air, Eddie has to smile. He sort of misses the little bastard.
We could get one.
Eddie rubs at his eyes, feeling exhausted. “You’d eat it.”
Venom pauses.
I’d try not to, he finally says and it’s so honest Eddie can’t help but laugh again, his fondness for the strange creature inside of him surging bright and warm.
“I know you would.”
The skin at the back of his neck prickles with an impossible kiss, and that more than anything hardens the steel in Eddie’s spine, allows him to put on a carefully neutral expression as he heads back inside.
They’re waiting for him while trying to appear like they’re doing anything but that. Anne watches him approach cautiously, eyes searching his face as he goes to place a kiss against her cheek.
“Congratulations, Annie,” he says softly. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
And that should have been that. Dan looks genuinely happy as he waves them over to the table where dessert is set out and as he settles back into his seat, Eddie allows himself to imagine that he’s actually handled this well, certainly better than they expected him to. He realizes his mistake when he glances up to find Anne still watching him, her expression closed off in a way he grew to hate in their time together, and which he in very vindictive moments referred to as her ‘lawyer mask’. She’s mulling his reaction over, and it’s clear she expected something very different, prepared for something different. Anne is one of the kindest people he knows, but she’s also ruthless when she’s after something. This is no exception.
Anger spreads slowly, simmering thick and hot in his stomach as he clutches his spoon too tightly, trying to follow whatever Dan is saying while taking a mouthful of the tiramisu. It’s too sweet and the taste clings in his throat, syrupy and terrible all at once. Eddie knew they regarded him as sort of a project, thought he could handle it, unable to blame Anne for her concern after all that happened. But sitting here, the cold realization that this entire evening was a way to contain his reaction, to manage poor, hung-up Eddie so he wouldn’t make a mess again, unleashes a vindictiveness he’s not used to outside of his work.
Eddie’s always been better motivated by spite than anything else, and it carries him through the remainder of the evening, allows him to smile and make conversation, the very picture of a person at peace with their general place in the world. Dan responds warmly to it, pulled in by the charm Eddie hasn’t been in a position to display often in his presence, asking him to stay for a cup of coffee as they finish with dessert. Eddie, who wants nothing more than to get on his bike and allow Venom to break the rules of gravity as well as the road to get them home, agrees with a smile. For some reason making them believe that he’s fine with this turn of events seems more important than anything else, the straw he clings to as the fraught sea of his emotions threatens to pulls him under.
Anne isn’t fooled, and she wouldn’t be Anne if she didn’t have something up her sleeve, voice entirely too casual as she takes a sip of her espresso. “You know there’s someone at my office who is really interested in meeting you. She read about the Alameda case, nearly talked my ear off when I told her I knew who wrote the piece. Do you want me to give her your number?”
Smart. Viciously smart. Phrasing it in a way that hints at a professional encounter instead of a blind date leaves him with little option to refuse. If he does, the whole ‘Eddie Brock, healthily moving on’ picture he’s been carefully painting in the last couple of hours will become cracked. Eddie curses himself for thinking he could outmaneuver her. Three years and he still hasn’t learned a thing.
“Sure,” he says, even as his stomach churns warningly with the word. “You do that.”
*
Eddie is an idiot. This isn’t news to him particularly, but the thought keeps returning to him as he critically surveys his appearance in the mirror, trying to decide whether he can possibly get away with not ironing his jacket. It’s been years since he last wore this suit, some wedding he went to with Anne. He remembers why when he finds one of the sleeve buttons missing, cursing when the distinct memory of that button bouncing off into the great unknown during an ill-advised interlude in the coat room surfaces. After a brief moment of hesitation, Eddie simply pops the one on the other sleeve off as well. Not like he has much of a choice.
Any hope Anne might back down vanished when he got a call from her friend Natalie yesterday. Eddie agreed to meet her for dinner. Which brings him right back to the idiocy. Agreeing to a dinner he has no interest in attending just to prove something to a woman, who has long moved on from her own feelings for him, has to be at least an eight on the scale of things they’d show in an embarrassing highlight reel in hell. Eddie sighs and grabs his razor. At least he’ll be a clean-shaven idiot.
Of course he nicks himself right at the start. It’s just that sort of day. Eddie swears, fumbling to keep the blood from running into his shirt collar. He might get away with wearing a sports coat, but this is his last clean button-down. “A little help here?”
Nothing.
“That’s mature,” Eddie mutters, grabbing a bit of toilet paper and sticking it to the tiny cut. “Any chance you’re gonna drop the silent treatment anytime soon?”
Truth is, he’s getting unnerved by it. Venom has been moody since the night at Anne’s, but he’s gone into full on sulking mode after Natalie called.
I’m not sulking.
“What do you call this then?“ Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. He pokes carefully at the cut to test whether it’s stopped bleeding, hissing a little with the sting. A moment later the pain is gone and he carefully peels the bloody tissue away to find his skin unmarred.
“Thank you.” He tosses the razor back onto the shelf, deciding that scruffy will do.
We had a deal. No more dates. You promised.
“This isn’t a date,” Eddie says. “It’s a work thing. Dinner with a person I’ve never met before.”
Venom stays silent, but Eddie has the distinct feeling he’s unimpressed. Admittedly, Eddie’s made better arguments.
He sighs. “Look, I don’t even want to go. You know I don’t want to go.”
Then don’t.
“I can’t just cancel now. It’ll get back to Anne and then…it wouldn’t be good,” he finishes lamely. “She already suspects something is wrong.”
That’s not why. You want to prove you’ve moved on just as she did.
“I have.”
It’s mostly not a lie. He has moved on, he’s got his job, he’s got Venom and their… thing. Cohabitation. Symbiosis. Whatever.
Is that what we have? Venom asks and there’s something there, something Eddie can’t pinpoint.
“Fuck if I know,” he snaps, somehow irritated though he’s not entirely sure why. “Not like we talked about it.”
Venom always seems reluctant to share anything of his own background, as insatiable as he is when it comes to learning about Eddie’s.
Maybe we should.
“Tales from Planet Parasite,” Eddie mutters. “I can’t wait.”
This time he doesn’t need the ensuing silence to know he’s put his foot in it. Fuck. Leave it to Eddie Brock to be the socially inept one in an interaction that only involves one human participant. That had to be some kind of record.
“Venom,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean- I mean that wasn’t what I-” He stops, unsure where he was going with either of those sentences. He runs a hand through his hair, strangely at a loss. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t expect an answer and he doesn’t get one. Venom is back to his silence as Eddie puts the finishing touches on his appearance before he grabs his keys, already wishing the night was over and done with.
*
He’s meeting Natalie at the sort of place he’d never set foot in voluntarily if it weren’t for his job. Lots of waiters, lots of people who aren’t there for the food, which always translates into tiny portions and something being deconstructed; whatever the fuck that means. As a rule, Eddie usually looks for his food to be assembled by the person he’s paying for that service, but apparently he’s in the minority there. As he approaches the table the maître d’ directs him to and takes in his surroundings, he’s fairly certain he’s already pegged Natalie’s type, for all that they’ve never met. High-strung, ambitious, like so many of Anne’s friends are. Maybe still with an idealistic streak, which could explain why she’s looking to slum it with a guy like him instead of one of the Ivy League law firm drones she must be surrounded by each day. Bored of that predictability maybe.
It turns out she’s none of those things. The woman he meets is warm-eyed and candid, waving away his apologies for the traffic as she pushes an appetizer plate across the table, leaning in conspiratorially once their waiter has disappeared. “Do me a favor and try this. I think I’m already on some sort of hit list for ordering it before my accompanying party arrived,” she says, drawing the words out in a way that’s so deliberately over the top Eddie has no doubts they’re a direct quote. They proceed to trade amused glances as the waiter ballet around them commences, using the shorts breaks to commiserate over the ridiculousness of it all.
“I swear I didn’t realize this place would be so Patrick Bateman,” Natalie says and Eddie almost snorts water up his nose as he starts to laugh. She grins wickedly at him, while he coughs into his napkin. “My coworkers recommended it.”
“You guys ever compared business cards?” Eddie asks and this time Natalie’s the one to be caught off guard, her laugh a deep and raspy sound that charms him immediately.
They launch easily into a discussion on the corruption Eddie uncovered in a segment on the Alameda PD’s hiring practices, branching out into a conversation about their respective jobs, the mayoral election campaign and whether or not Shape of Water deserved to win Best Picture (Natalie thinks Lady Bird should have taken it, Eddie vehemently disagrees, though he has to admit he’s not the most unbiased observer).
They’re clicking, they’re having fun and Eddie is just about to concede this night may not have been as terrible of an idea as he originally imagined it to be, when he reaches across the table and his hand spasms, knocking over Natalie’s glass with the neck of the wine bottle he tried to refill her drink with. They both curse, and Eddie quickly grabs their cloth napkins as the waiters sweep in like they’ve been summoned, adding an unimaginable awkwardness to the situation as the neighboring tables gawk at the commotion.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts, though he’s fairly certain that for once, it wasn’t his own clumsiness at play.
Natalie waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t that nice of a skirt anyway. I am fairly fond of the panties though, they’re the only ones where I don’t have to pick a wedgie every time I get up in court. I’ll just head to the bathroom before it soaks through.”
She winks at him as Eddie snorts with laughter, the scandalized look one of the waiters gives them doing nothing to help him rein it in. He watches her leave, waiting until she’s out of earshot before he folds his hands in front of his mouth, muttering the words into his palms.
“What was that?”
Butterfingers. Venom sounds smug. He usually does when he’s successfully using vernacular.
“Stop it,” Eddie hisses. “She’s great. Don’t take this out on her.”
I want to go home.
Eddie sighs. “We will, okay? Just give me another hour.”
He likes Natalie. Nothing will ever come of it of course, but he doesn’t want to blow her off in the middle of the evening. They could be friends, he thinks. Eddie doesn’t have a lot of those.
Of course that’s not how it goes.
Natalie’s been back less than three minutes when the skin just above his tailbone becomes prickly and heated, Eddie nearly swallowing his own tongue as he feels it stretching into something other, something more, something them. His stomach does a violent flip as adrenaline floods his system, cheeks growing hot as the realization sets in. Venom has certain preferences where he surfaces, a pattern if you will. If he wants face to face interaction he’ll manifest from between Eddie’s shoulder blades, sometimes his collarbone. When he’s looking to grab something, the tendrils will usually slink from Eddie’s sides and during a fight all bets are off as he manipulates Eddie to his will to minimize the damage. His lower back and thighs though…well. Venom usually reserves that for the times he’s got Eddie on his knees or on his back, and Eddie’s response has become almost Pavlovian in turn, his cock already half hard just from the feeling of the tendrils breaking skin.
What are you doing? Eddie still isn’t very good at limiting their conversations to the inside of his head, but his panic gives him focus, makes the words ring sharp and clear like a bell.
Stop clenching, Venom says and damn if Eddie’s cock doesn’t twitch at that. Your date might notice.
Venom, don’t you dare-
The thought is abruptly cut off by Venom slipping in between his cheeks and across his entrance, spreading and rubbing in a way almost liquid material really shouldn’t be capable of. More of Venom spills from their skin, stroking feather light and microscopic beneath Eddie’s clothes, brushing along every inch of him as they grow. Eddie only has a moment to be grateful that they were seated in a booth before one of the tendrils sneaks between his legs, wrapping around his balls with Venom’s customary possessiveness. He lifts them just a little, like he’s testing the weight and feel of them, laughter rippling through their mind when Eddie makes a strangled noise that draws a curious glance from Natalie.
They’re in public, there are people around and Eddie’s not a stranger to doing embarrassing things where he might be seen anymore, has learned to roll with the punches, sometimes literally. But this is different, the back of his neck feeling overheated like he’s gotten sunburnt, prickling with the certainty that everyone around them is watching him, knows he’s straining against the silky material of his briefs. He shifts, trying to unobtrusively arrange the table cloth to hide what anyone walking by their table would be able to see for themselves otherwise. Venom tugs on his balls in what feels like a reprimand and Eddie bites his tongue until he feels blood, desperately trying to keep his composure.
It’s a losing battle. There’s little composure to be had when you’re in the middle of a restaurant with the certain knowledge you’re about to get a tentacle up your ass.
If you insist.
“No-“
As usual, Venom takes great pleasure in not letting him finish, slipping inside Eddie with little resistance, using the malleability of his form to ease the way.
“Are you okay?”
Eddie blinks through the syrupy, heated haze that’s threatening to swallow him entirely, tries to focus on the question. For a moment he forgot she was even there and the thought elicits a pleased rumble from Venom as he sinks himself further into Eddie.
“I’m fine,” Eddie croaks, draining the rest of his water. “Food’s a little spicy.”
He follows her doubtful gaze, face heating even further when he realizes their plates have already been cleared. Trying to salvage the excuse, he gestures weakly towards his throat. “Aftertaste.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Natalie asks and the concern on her face sinks Eddie’s stomach, makes him wonder just how obvious his state is.
Very.
“I just,” Eddie starts, then tries a smile that feels weak on his face. “I think I’m gonna step out for a minute.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No!” Eddie coughs, fighting to keep his voice level. “I mean, that’s alright, I can manage.”
Venom won’t let him. Eddie’s still trying to figure out how to take off his jacket for the walk across the restaurant floor, wondering wildly how obvious it’s going to be that he’s trying to hide an erection, when he realizes he hasn’t moved an inch, still firmly seated at the table. Natalie is watching him expectantly and Eddie tries once more, the disconcerting feeling of the connection between his brain and body being severed as Venom keeps them where they are, making his stomach lurch with apprehension.
“You know what,” Eddie says and even to his own ears the words sounds strained. “I’m just going to sit here for a minute.”
Venom has grown thicker inside him, relentlessly stretching until that perfect, sweet ache settles into Eddie, making his cock twitch in spite of his panic. Because of his panic. There’s sweat gathering at his temples, the bridge of his nose, the small of his back. Inside his polished dress shoes his toes are curling helplessly as Venom does that undulating thing no human could possibly compare to, sparking up the pleasure center of his brain like the Fourth of July sky.
He flinches when Natalie touches his hand, the contact overloading his already stressed system. Her eyebrows draw together in a frown and Eddie can see her turning over his reaction in her mind, trying to work out what the hell’s turned him into a twitchy, sweaty idiot in the past five minutes. He needs to find a way out of this situation.
Get rid of her, Venom says, not a request but a command. Eddie’s cock twitches pathetically in response.
“Maybe you should go,” he blurts, no finesse, no attempt to spin a more refined excuse. His mind is too muddled for anything else.
Venom squeezes his aching, heavy cock in reward and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his hips from arching into the touch.
“Wow,” Natalie says and her voice has grown cold. “Okay, you know what, maybe I should.”
“I don’t want to ruin your night,” Eddie says, knows it’s too little too late.
Judging from the unimpressed look she gives him as she gets up, Natalie agrees.
“Good job with that,” she tells him and then she’s gone, leaving Eddie to collapse into the booth like his strings have been cut, relief and arousal swirling through his blood like a dizzying cocktail. Venom is radiating contentment, so obviously pleased with himself Eddie wants to put their fist through a wall. He grabs Natalie’s water, the half-melted ice cubes digging sharply into the soft skin of his throat as he swallows them down. It helps a little and he’s able to gather his wits enough to try and figure out how to leave by drawing the least amount of attention to himself.
Not so fast.
No.
It’s the only word that seems to stick in the jumbled mess Eddie’s thoughts have become as renewed panic and sharp arousal swells within him, bubbling into his stomach and pushing the already painful thrum of his heartbeat into a gallop. He wants to leave, wants to get out of here and disappear, be any place but where he feels everyone is staring at him, knowingly, as Venom keeps his unrelenting, tender grip on him. Every muscle in his body feel like it’s made of stone with the tension, belly and thighs taut as he balances on what feels like a knife’s edge, nothing but stormy sea on either side.
We’re not done yet.
Somewhere, deep in the recess of their mind where the most primal of their instincts haven’t yet taken over, Eddie knows what that means, the words piercing through the delirious fog he’s been thrown into, burying deep into his bones. There’s no time to react or protest, Venom pressing into him just so, stretching him thick and wide. It’s too much all at once, Eddie getting thrown over the edge almost violently, his knee banging into the underside of the table, balls drawing up tight as his cock jerks again and again, rubbing against the already slick material of his briefs. It feels like dying, and he’s pretty certain he’d be screaming if Venom weren’t keeping him quiet, keeping Eddie all to himself as he fucks him through it, moving relentlessly into his sweet spot as his cock tries to give and give and give until it’s dribbling helplessly, twitching with the overstimulation.
Jesus. Disbelief grows thorny and smothering in his chest, making it hard to breathe as he tries to take in his surroundings with blazing cheeks. Incredibly, not everyone is staring at him, though a few of the patrons at the neighboring tables have obviously noticed something isn’t quite right, sneaking glances in the obvious way of people who are not terribly good at it. Eddie tries not to wonder what they’ve seen, whether they think he’s sick or on drugs, or if any among them have correctly guessed at the reason for his disheveled state.
Well. Sort of correctly. He doubts anyone knows his alien symbiote is still stretching him open, only slowly decreasing in width, another tendril rubbing soothingly at his sore hole until Eddie is biting his lip. Somehow he’ll have to find his way out of here, get to the bathroom and then-
No.
“I need to,” Eddie tries, not even caring that people will think he’s talking to himself.
I’ll clean you up when we get home
The words collapse what little is left of Eddie’s composure, and he’s glad he’s still sitting down, the image of Venom using his tongue to thoroughly rasp over every inch of his body making his knees buckle.
Yes, Venom says, and seriously, fuck him and the goddamn smugness that’s seeping from his voice like honey. You’ll like that.
*
By the time he’s fighting with his apartment door, Venom silently sliding past him to unlock the mechanism, Eddie feels like shit. Leaving the restaurant is a blur at this point, though he’s got a faint inkling he’s left an outrageous tip, which even with his new job, he really can’t afford. The insane high he was floating on has receded, leaving him exhausted and sticky in a less than pleasant way. There’s a bruise forming where he’s banged his knee into the table, his slacks and briefs keep clinging to his skin no matter how many times he’s tried to adjust the fabric, and more than anything he’s cold, like the wind and fog have crept into his very bones on the ride back.
Eddie, Venom says as he heads straight for the shower, twisting the handle almost entirely into the red and turning it up to full blast. Eddie ignores him, peels his sweaty, ruined clothes off, dropping them right on the floor as the small bathroom fills with steam.
Eddie-
“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, diving beneath the cascading water like that might drown him out. He can’t corral his swirling thoughts enough to hold his own in a conversation with Venom right now.
His shower is honestly the best thing about this apartment, the water pressure off the hook as it beats down onto his shoulders, probably scalding the skin there. It doesn’t feel like enough, does nothing to shake the clammy feeling from his limbs, Eddie shivering in spite of the temperature. He tries to push the handle further to the left, cursing when he realizes he’s already turned it as hot as it will go.
Absurdly, his eyes are starting to sting and he runs a rough hand over his face, trying desperately to breathe through the creeping ache in his throat. Fuck. This is the last thing he needs.
Eddie, Venom says again and now he sounds alarmed, for all the good that will do them. What’s wrong with us?
“Nothing,” Eddie manages through a seizing throat. “S’ fine.”
That, embarrassingly, is when he passes out.
He comes to on their bed, naked but dry, Venom hovering over him like a storm cloud. There shouldn’t be a way for a face with that many teeth to look concerned, but somehow he manages it.
Eddie, he says and fuck, there’s honest to God franticness in his voice. There’s nothing to heal, I checked everything, I don’t know what to do.
“’S nothing,” Eddie croaks, pushing through the exhaustion weighing down his body to hold out his arms. “C’mere.”
Venom rushes him, spreads himself across every inch of his skin without sinking beneath, his tongue flickering over Eddie’s face in a gesture so tender it makes Eddie’s chest ache. What’s wrong with us?
Eddie doesn’t think he’s capable of speech, instead tries to envision physically pushing the memory at Venom, sinking back in relief when he senses that Venom’s gotten a hold of it. The feeling is still a little disconcerting, the faded images in his own mind sharpening as Venom rifles through them.
His dorm room, the terrible twin bed that always creaked ominously any time he tried turning over during the night. His first long-term girlfriend, Naomi, grinning cheekily at him as she presented him with the harness they’d both been excited about buying. Pain blooming across his thighs and ass where she slapped him as requested. Coming harder than he ever had in his life. Curled up in the communal showers afterwards, shaking and miserable while Naomi called his name from the door. Her hurt expression when he snapped at her afterwards, unable to control the terrible things coming out of his mouth. They’d broken up a few months later.
He never figured out what the hell happened to him that night until he came across an article years later, describing a common phenomenon within the BDSM community. Subdrop. A rapid depletion of endorphins and enkephalins. Too rapid for the body to replenish immediately. Hence the whole feeling lousy and irrational thing.
Venom sounds a little calmer now, but there’s still desperation in his request, something Eddie isn’t used to coming from him.
What do you need?
“Nothing,” Eddie mumbles, giving into the urge to close his eyes. The cold clinging to him is still there but it’s better with Venom all around him, wrapping him up. “This. Stay with me.”
Always.
Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the reverence in the word. They drift like that for a few minutes; Eddie’s trembling slowly weakening as Venom grounds him, keeps every bit of him folded into his firm grasp.
We won’t do that again.
It’s not an apology exactly; Eddie’s learned Venom is not very good at those, though he likes to demand them from Eddie whenever he’s in a snit. But underneath the careful statement there’s a well of regret, the memory of the panic when Eddie was slipping from him while every one of Venom’s senses told him he should be fine.
“It was a dick move,” Eddie agrees, tangling his fingers into the sticky substance of Venom’s jaw and pulling him in for a kiss to take the sting out of the accusation. “You usually ask a guy before fucking him in front of other people.”
You liked it. It’s not a refusal as much as an expression of confusion.
“I did,” Eddie sighs. “I really did. Still should have asked.”
They’re both silent as Venom digests this.
“But,” Eddie finally says. “I shouldn’t have gone back on my promise. That was a dick move, too. I told you no more dates. I’m sorry.”
So it was a date.
“Don’t start,” Eddie warns, smothering the laugh that wants to bubble up his throat. “You have to give me some time to get used to this. Humans as a rule don’t enter interspecies relationships.”
But you want to.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I guess I do.”
Will you see her again?
Natalie’s face swims into focus in their mind. Eddie sighs.
“I don’t think she’d agree. Kind of a shame, she was great.”
You want to be her…friend.
The word is delivered with so much disdain it startles another laugh out of Eddie.
“You really don’t like that thought, do you?”
Images reel across his mind at dizzying speed, the urge to keep, hold, possess Eddie, away from anyone else.
Eddie hums, knows he should be way more disturbed than he actually is. “Didn’t they teach you to share on Klyntar?”
Everything, Venom says bleakly, Eddie shivering at the yawning chasm beneath the word. For the first time he considers that Venom not talking about his home world may have more sinister reasons than Eddie could have possibly guessed at.
You’re the first thing, Venom says. The only thing I get all to myself.
The enormity of the implication rattles Eddie, makes him speechless as he tries to wrap his mind around Venom’s words. But he told Eddie before, didn’t he?
It was you.
“Did you save the planet to get to keep me?”
I thought that much was obvious.
“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking. “You know you can, right? That I’m all yours?”
Venom is silent for a beat, and when he speaks his voice is quiet, almost solemn.
I do now.