Chapter Text
The bumpy ride home leaves little room for conversation as the adrenaline thrums through Eddie's veins. He hears the sound of sirens in the distance as he revs his bike through the cold streets, but whether these sirens are meant for himself or some other purveyor of evil, he’s not entirely sure. Either way, he manages to transport the creature and himself to his apartment without any other instances of trouble. He’s still sweating by the time he reaches shelter, but even so, his apartment is bleak with the bite of frost. The window to the alley is still wide open from before; the cold is an unwanted guest in his home.
Eddie peers out of the open window into the grimy alley. In the distance, the shattered glass remains undisturbed. Gooseflesh dimples along his arms, and he’s unable to determine whether the shiver originates with Venom or himself. He quickly closes the window to block out the chill.
“So… I’m guessing you saw that,” he says meekly.
They pause.
...Yes.
“Why didn’t you say something when I first woke up? I was so scared that I lost you forever...”
We were upset with you.
“Why?”
Almost killed us, Eddie! We needed to bond with you to survive, and you denied us, time and time again.
“Well, how was I supposed to know? I mean, I figured you were trying eat me or suck out my soul somehow, but I didn’t realize the attachment would be so… literal.”
Venom goes quiet, and the budding frustration is transmitted to Eddie through their connection. Again, it’s that simulacrum of hurt that enters his consciousness, indicating that he’s said something wrong.
Not… our intention, they finally say, with a hint of sadness bleeding into their words. Not trying to suck out your soul. This bond is meant to be mutually beneficial.
Eddie scratches at his overgrown stubble. “What do you mean? Not to be rude, but now I’m eating for two like I’m pregnant. How is this supposed to benefit me in any way?”
He feels the build to their answer rise in his chest, excitement flourishing with the opportunity to showcase their abilities.
We can make you stronger, Eddie! Make up for your deficiencies. Make you do this!
“Woah!”
Immediately, their obsidian tendrils emerge from his shoulder and trail toward the tip of his extremities; a molten glove forms to create bulk along his hand and arm and he turns his wrist in recognition of the borrowed strength. Eddie flexes his fingers to wield a fist, then punches the air experimentally, feeling his actions reinforced by Venom’s power.
“Nice! I mean. This is super, super cool, but… in what situation would I ever need this?”
FOR WHEN YOU ARE DESTROYING YOUR ENEMIES!
“I… I mean, I guess?” He rubs his temples with his unaffected hand. “But I don't really have enemies that need to be destroyed. Here, where we live? It's way more effective to destroy someone through slander and, you know, revealing their infidelity to the masses. Verbal whiplash, that sort of thing. Less of the punchy, bitey kind of ass-kicking?”
Venom makes a quiet hum in deliberation. Don't you have enemies? People you hate, or people that hate you?
He shrugs. “I don't think Chris Rouge counts as an enemy so much as a pain in the ass. And, well... I used to write about exposing corruption which really pissed off some people. But overall, I'm just kind of small fry.”
Don’t underestimate yourself, Eddie! We’re sure there are plenty out there who hate you!
“Thanks.”
Yes! What about the one that destroyed your career? Dignity?
Eddie feels his face growing warm. “Okay, maybe I do have enemies. But I’m kind of trying to be the bigger person here, sort of.”
Not sure if it’s working, they chuckle. Or… what about the new competitor for your mate. Anne.
Eddie's knees almost buckle with the weight of their words, the twist in his chest so debilitating that it nearly leaves him breathless. “S-stay out of this.” His voice shakes despite his conviction.
But-
He snaps.
“No, Venom! That’s a huge invasion of my privacy!”
The connection is twofold, because immediately, the jagged ridges of Venom’s glove begins to melt and shrink back into his skin and musculature. Eddie is left with just his arm and his sweat stained hoodie as the alien vanishes without a trace. In the midst of their horror, he hears a quiet sorry ripple coquettishly in the back of his mind.
Eddie frowns. It’s discomfiting enough to be cognizant of someone’s displeasure directed at him, but it’s even more uncomfortable now with the other party taking residence inside of his body. His insides twist with regret.
“Hey, look… I’m not, um, great at this. I’m just really not used to having someone just read me like an open book. And it's not that I hate it, but there’s a shit ton of things in my brain that even I don’t want to deal with, much less have someone else just bring it up.”
A quiet whine riffles through his head.
“A-and I’m not saying you’re not cool, either! Your abilities are really cool! I’m just wondering if we could find a way to, you know, apply it to something less destructive. I mean, this would be super cool if I was a vigilante or something, but I’m just a normal guy who still hasn’t gotten his shit together.”
They still don’t respond. The corners of Eddie’s lips twitch downward; Venom’s ability to simply phase into his body to avoid a conversation is a bit like trying argue with a deaf person who can take out their hearing aids at any time. He scratches again at his stubble he tries to re-route the conversation to a new path.
“Hey, is this it? Just a voice in my head forever? Is this permanent?”
He hears the fear warping their deep voice as they finally respond. Y-you wish to be rid of us, already?
“No, that's not it! This is just kind of… unnatural. I’m not sure how much I enjoy having another person inside of me. It’s so…” he waves a hand as he struggles to find a suitable word, “...close.”
We like being inside you, they say abashedly. It’s almost a subtle beg with their intent inadvertently transmitted to their host, gently trying to convince him to let them stay. He’s unable to completely pinpoint the physical sensation, but he alludes it to warm tendrils draping across his sternum and wrapping around his ribs beneath his skin. Warm, Eddie, soft. Venom’s tendrils emerge from his chest to caress his clavicles beneath his clothing. Perfect, Eddie.
“Oh-- oh god.” A rush of blood colors his cheeks and he squirms uncomfortably. He quickly claps a hand over his collarbone to halt their ministrations. “You ever heard of something called a ‘euphemism’?”
No. Eddie will teach us about ‘euphemisms’?
“No, er, never mind then.”
They sulk again and gently sink their tendrils back into his chest. Eddie finally releases a bated breath, registering the discomfort he feels in his soiled clothing, and he shakes his head. His legs eventually carry him to the mildew-encrusted bathroom and he almost drops his phone when he takes note of his facsimile in the mirror.
What’s wrong?
It’s not the emesis-laced clothing or the sweat stains that grasp his attention, but rather the projected image of Venom’s form that has set into a mask over Eddie’s head. His eyes widen, but it's familiar nacre eyespots in the reflection that dilate back in response, and when his mouth gapes at the horror, he sees glistening rows of carnivorous teeth that spring apart. From his open maw lolls a serpentine tongue, dripping with saliva.
“What did you do with my face?!” He frantically brings his fingers to palpate his cheeks, surprised to only feel the familiar stubble rather than the pitch pulsating in the reflection.
Our face, Eddie, they gently correct.
“Oh my god. Buddy, I can’t go around town walking around like this. No wonder she called the cops!”
Only you can see us, they reassure. Only you.
“Oh.” He purses his lips together, taking in the visual hallucination. “Well, can I have my face back, for now?”
Yes…
From there, the black sinks back into his skin to reveal the tired man beneath, which really doesn't lend to any more assurance either. The pronounced eyebags, sunken cheeks and pallor has him sort of resembling one of those HD close-up shots from Ren and Stimpy.
“Christ,” he groans. “This isn't any better. I really did get hit by the ugly bus today.”
What's an 'ugly bus’? WHY DID THEY HURT YOU?
Eddie rolls his eyes. “It's an expression. Don't worry about it.”
WE WORRY, EDDIE! You need to explain your human ‘expressions’!
“Forget it.”
You won't let us into your head! How are we supposed to learn?
“Chill out, dude! Fuck!”
Eddie grips the edge of the sink out of frustration, and he feels the foreign body disappear from his head to sit into his stomach instead. Their frustration percolates into Eddie's consciousness, which only serves to compound his own budding distress. He quickly rips off his hoodie and throws it to the floor, then steps out of his jeans next.
What are you doing?
“I'm gonna take a shower.”
We help you with shower?
“No, uh. I kind of need this for myself, okay? I need some time to think.”
Oh…
“This is too much to take in.”
Right...
Eddie flinches when the showerhead starts raining icicles over his body, but he welcomes the refreshing cleanliness all the same. Slowly, the water heats up to a temperature that is adjacent to tolerable, and he dips his head under the steady flow. The tub has long since lost its engraved, tractional surfaces, but he stands in a way that is precariously situated between leaning on a wall and falling flat on his ass. For a while, he simply stands there in the lukewarm rain, barely registering the water as it flows across his scalp and cascades down his back. Eventually, Eddie pumps out a dollop of shampoo into his palm and begins to work it into a lather.
Showering… is something personal for Eddie. Sitting in a bath with a significant other is romantic, and he initially believed that the same could be translated to standing showers too. But he's had enough experience with fighting for hot water while the other stands in the cold, awaiting their turn under the tap, before he recognizes that showers are for utility and self-care; showers are solitary affairs for deep thought and reflection -- the quiet moments that build or destroy a man's quintessence, not to be shared with others.
He needs time to think, and he has a lot to deliberate. He only hopes the creature will stay out of his tangled mess of a brain in the meantime. He worries at his lower lip as he continues his absent-minded lather.
This isn't permanent, is it?
Loneliness is a beast he's come to know after months without Anne. He doesn't enjoy the loneliness, but it's familiarity that has him returning to it, too afraid to reach out to forge new bonds of any significance. But Venom's proximity is… not familiar. Nothing about them is familiar, from their voice, to their hunger, to their all-encompassing embrace. They say they're from beyond the stars, and at this point there isn't any trace of doubt. It’s strange that it doesn't trip nearly as many alarms as it should, but none of it seems natural.
Eddie sighs, despondent to the world. He's lost control of his life a long time ago. This is just another cabin to add to the trainwreck.
Except it's not really a trainwreck. Not really. Not in the typical sense anyway.
Do I care?
Maybe it's shock, or maybe it's depression. Or maybe Eddie has a higher capacity for rolling with the weird than the average person, but…
Why doesn't this scare me?
It’s not nearly as horrifying as he first envisioned it to be.
He doesn't hate this.
He --
Thin tendrils unfurl from the base of his neck to wind around the tips of his fingers, gently extricating his hands from the tangled mass of hair.
Eddie…
“Huh?”
We know you didn't want us to help but… starting to damage the follicles. Please be gentle with yourself, Eddie…
“Oh…”
Eddie finally relaxes his shoulders as his arms return to his side. The tendrils don't dive back into his body just yet. Instead, they move to direct the water from above to flow through his hair, carefully separating the strands to wash away the suds. When the last of it pools at the drain below, Venom extends another tendril with an imitated palm to cup some conditioner, then they gently work it into his hair.
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Do you know what you're even doing?”
Yes, they reply. We've seen you shower before.
“Ha!”
The laugh that bubbles from his lips is unexpected. Eddie grabs a washcloth and begins to scrub shower gel onto the rest of his body while Venom continues to comb their fingers through his hair. A sharp pain in his shoulder stops him from reaching the core of his back, right between his shoulder blades; it's the work of late nights filled with damaging postures in front of his laptop mixed with an old rotator cuff injury. Without prompting, another tendril emerges from his shoulder to accept the washcloth, and they gently scrub at the rarely-touched valley of his back.
Heat creeps up onto Eddie's cheeks and neck.
Is the water too warm?
“No, it's fine. It's just…”
He bites down on his lower lip. Venom's tendrils halt their actions and tremble with minute waves, awaiting his words. Eddie finally sighs, breaking the silence.
“Venom. Look, I… I've been an ass to you and I really shouldn't be. You've been working so hard to talk to me this whole time, and when you finally got the chance to actually communicate, I haven't been very receptive. I mean, yeah, this is really new for me, but it's not any excuse for me to be a dick.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I'm--”
-- Already forgiven.
“Ah!”
He nearly chokes.
“Uh. Y-yeah.”
A pleased chuckle reverberates through his mindscape, causes the blood vessels in his cheeks to dilate further.
“And you're free to stay as long as you'd like, bud. I--I… I'm not kicking you out anytime soon.”
Thank you…
From there, the tendrils begin to move again and he leans into Venom's care. They stretch their vines across his back and pulsate softly, ferrofluid on skin, sending quiet shivers to dance along his spine. Their tendrils dig deep to knead into the muscles of his shoulders, relieving the sharp ache that controls his diminished range of motion. Eddie goes weak at their languid comfort, surprised to feel so precious in the proverbial hands of another and simply accepts it with a muffled moan, pressing his head and the palms of his hands into the shower wall for support. With his pain now less debilitating, they extract their tendrils and return to cradle his broad shoulders with their body.
Eddie sighs as a newfound relief fills him. “Thanks...”
You are welcome.
His body sways slightly with the soothing heat, feeling all tension flow from his nerves to collectively drain away. Eddie’s eyelids begin to droop and would continue to do so, but he feels Venom shift to his hands and press fine coils into his fingertips, weaving their body along the ridges of his identity.
… Fingers are getting wrinkly, Eddie.
“Y-yeah. Alright.”
He turns off the water and climbs out of the tub unwillingly, draping an old towel over his body as he re-enters the cold. Venom’s limbs reach out to pull the towel closer, lightly pressing small circles of it onto his skin and and hair, helping to wick away the fine droplets of moisture. Eddie takes a moment to seek out his reflection again. The fog slowly clears to present his image, still with the slight hollowness to his features, but some of the color has returned to his skin -- most notably, the ever-present dusting of rose on his cheeks. He picks up a razor and considers shaving, but eventually returns it to the sink, not wanting to horrify the fellow inhabitant of his body just yet. In turn, Venom snakes fine tendrils through his overgrown stubble, pleased with the way the short strands of hair part to make way for the flow of their body.
Eddie chuckles and itches at his chin. “That kind of tickles.”
Quiet amusement plays through their shared bond. The fine threads of their tendrils begins to thicken, becoming denser and spreading outward to create more points of contact along his skin. This time, Eddie is prepared when Venom’s face emerges sheath his own, spreading from his jaw to nose, to eyes, to the back of his head and down his neck; the coolness of their body showing him it's real this time.
It’s hard not to be excited by the new appearance. Eddie opens his mouth to stick out Venom’s tongue in the mirror, entertained with the way it hangs so indolently between the sharp teeth. He digs the tips of his fingers into his jaw, burying them into the alien’s flesh to admire the supple give.
“Can you do more? How much of my body can you cover?”
Venom is likewise curious. More of their body pours out from his skin, spreading their cascading blackness down both arms as muscular sleeves. Their tendrils continue further south, dressing his chest and abdomen with liquid pitch. Eventually, they are spread too thinly and reach their limit, webbing out into thin threads that sew into his skin at the start of where his bone juts out from his hips.
“Our… best…” they rasp. Their voice is thick with a needy masculinity, borrowing the voice from Eddie’s vocal cords and lungs. There’s an inkling of disappointment that taints their bond - not from Eddie, but emanating from the creature themself. A disappointment at their own inability to do more; the fear of being insufficient to their host. “Not good enough…”
But Eddie shakes his head and laughs. Even at the pinnacle of his powerlifting days, he’s never felt this strong, nor has he ever looked this defined. Eddie feels a bit like a child first discovering the joys of a mirror, and he flexes to enjoy the shape of the borrowed strength, simply indulging in the harmless vanity. It feels a bit like cheating, especially when he’s able to catch up to the elusive pump that no other human will ever be able to do when unassisted, but the novelty is completely worth how good it makes both him and Venom feel when formed like this, together.
His giddiness bubbles over uninhibited: “Oh my god, this is amazing!”
At his words, Eddie feels their spirit brighten within his chest. Venom smiles back in the mirror, showcasing their pearly teeth and opalescent eyes.
“E-Eddie…”
For the first time in a while, Eddie feels good.
