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Eddie, why do we feel awful?
Eddie tried to sit up slowly and then stopped himself, realizing half-way there that Venom was, for once, underestimating the situation. He felt a few dozen paces past awful. He groaned and sunk back into the sheets, his head pulsing as his shoulders ached and his chest felt heavy.
“Venom, quit hiding in my lungs it makes it hard for me to use them,” he muttered into his pillow. The symbiote shifted and the pressure eased a little.
...Sorry.
“I’m not going to just quit breathing and have you suffocate, at least not on purpose,” Eddie assured, blindly fumbling up for the curtain so he could block out the light filtering through his window. He missed and let his hand slip down with a pitiful kind of sigh, but a moment later it went dark anyway.
“Thanks buddy,” he muttered, feeling Venom’s tendril sink back beneath his skin. The symbiote felt unusually cool after being outside his body and between that and the aching in his muscles he figured his diagnosis was an easy one.
Eddie you have not answered our question, Venom pressed. Why do we feel awful? Did we eat something bad again?
“No….more like something bad is trying to eat us. We have the flu, Venom,” Eddie mumbled, trying again to gingerly sit up. He managed it that time, but remained in bed for a minute anyway, just sitting hunched up so he could rub at his eyes.
Something is trying to eat us!??, Venom demanded, sounding absolutely indignant. Eddie winced and slapped at the prickling spot on his chest where he could feel Venom pooling up in his rage.
“It’s a virus, Venom. Like, an actual parasite only it wants us dead. If it could want. Viruses aren’t sentient.”
Venom seems to chew on that for a moment, then: So it kills us...for no reason?
“It’s a virus, it doesn’t know anything it’s just--” Eddie gestures vaguely. “Programming. It’s programmed to make more virus and it does that by killing the host. Like I said, it’s a real parasite.”
Smart parasites do not kill their hosts, Venom says petulantly.
Eddie sighs. “I did just say it doesn’t have a brain, didn’t I? It’s just something we deal with on Earth here. I’ll be okay in a week or so.”
We don’t feel okay! We feel like we are dying!
Eddie rolled his eyes as he shifted his legs over the side of the bed, heaving himself onto his feet with a miserable cough. He could feel Venom webbing around his insides, like a frantic pacing thing.
“Hey,” Eddie scolded, patting the side of his ribs like that would bring his symbiote to attention. “Stop that. Quit checking me for damage I said we’re not going to die.”
We will be sure of that.
Eddie shook his head and gingerly made his way to the kitchen.
A few hours later, with medicine and tea in his system, he was trying to doze on the couch. He’d finally gotten Venom to stop pacing because the sensation was making him queasy, but he was still aware of the symbiote part laying in his chest near his lungs and part in patches along his skin. It was helping them both, really, easing the fever so Eddie put up with looking like a half dead thing pulled out of an oil slick.
For the most part, Venom was quiet, stewing in his part of the misery. At least until something in the hall clicked and Venom’s head manifested, perking up to look at the door.
“Eddie?" Anne's voice came from the front of the apartment. There was shuffling as she slipped her shoes off. "Your boss called, said you didn’t come in. She seemed worried about you--everything okay?”
We are dying!!
“No--no Anne, we have the flu. Venom has a fatal case of dramatic,” Eddie said as loudly as his sore throat would allow. Anne came around the corner to see him curled up with a droopy-looking symbiote sitting on top of him, and she shot him a sympathetic look, hands on her purse straps.
“You forgot to get the shot again, Eddie?”
He shrugged one shouldered. “I’ve had a rough year?”
We were going to get shot? Why would you shoot us, Anne?
“A shot,” Anne corrected. To her credit she no longer flinched at making eye contact with Eddie’s tag-along. “It’s….a dead version of the virus that lets human bodies make antibodies ahead of time so when we do get sick, usually we can fight it off faster.”
Venom seemed to digest this for a moment, sinking a little lower against Eddie’s chest as his eyes narrowed.
….We could have prevented this?
He turned that narrow expression on Eddie and Eddie sighed, rubbing wearily at his eyes.
“I was busy, man. You kinda took up all my attention.”
We are dying, Eddie.
“We’re not.”
WE ARE!
“NO, we’re not--” Eddie had to cut off mid-sentence and scramble to sit up, coughing wracking his sore body. He groaned pitifully in the aftermath and sunk back down, curling into the fetal position.
Anne looked at them both sympathetically. Venom was just starting to pick himself back up from the frightened splatter he’d turned into against Eddie’s body when he’d started coughing.
“You do look pretty bad, Ed,” she said, reaching out and gently stroking back his sweaty hair. A few of Venom’s tendrils crept over Eddie’s forehead and she took the hint, stroking the symbiote with the same gentle touch. Venom puddled a little less unhappily against Eddie’s shoulder, though his eyes and the curve of his teeth were still visible.
See, Venom whined. We are dying. We need to eat the mailman to survive.
Anne stroked against Eddie’s temple, ignoring Venom’s statement. “Do you guys need me to get you anything? The kitchen probably doesn’t have much left besides tater tots if last time was any indicator.”
The mailman. We MUST eat the mailman.
“Chicken soup would be fine,” Eddie said, his voice raspy as he put a fumbling hand over Venom’s face to stifle him. He was rewarded with a handful of slime as Venom licked him in retaliation. Eddie pulled his hand away with an expression of disgust, shooting the symbiote an angry look. Venom only sunk smugly back into Eddie’s skin, leaving his eyes to peer from the top of his shoulder.
“Okay. Well, how about I go get the mail, and some soup. And possibly some tissues.”
“That would be great, you want to take PITA here with you?”
Venom popped back up at that, looking alarmed.
We are not going anywhere! We are sick!
“I am sick. You’ll probably be fine if you go with another host for a few days!” Eddie said reasonably, turning onto his back so he could look at Venom’s head more easily. The symbiote shifted, staring at him from a tendril coming out of his stomach.
We are sick. If I leave, you will die.
“I don’t know why you don’t believe me on this, but no. I really won’t.”
We are staying. We will be your shot.
Eddie sighed. “Okay guess just the soup then, Anne.”
Anne smiled fondly, a quirk of worry between her brows. “Okay,” she said, standing and bending over Eddie long enough to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you both in an hour. Try to get some sleep.”
For about twenty minutes Eddie managed to doze, until the need to pee forced him back up. He shuffled his way to the bathroom, did his business, and was on his way back to the couch when the dust in the apartment finally got to his irritated system and he let off a huge sneeze.
Venom whipped around on him so quickly it spun Eddie around and he fell back onto the couch. Laying there in a achy pile, he blinked a glare up at Venom's face staring demandingly at him from a tentacle.
WHAT WAS THAT!? ARE WE EXPLODING!?
"It was a sneeze!"
We hated it! Don't do it again!
"I can't help it! If I hold it in I might actually explode. It's a natural thing that helps keep my lungs clear. You need those, remember?"
Venom glared at him and sunk back a little lower.
It was loud. We still don't like it.
Eddie sighed heavily, throwing his arm over his eyes. He really hoped this was going to be a 3-5 flu instead of the two week epic some of his past illnesses had been. The way it was going though, Venom was too busy scolding him to actually help with the virus.
At least warn us.
"Here's an idea, you parasite," Eddie said, pulling the blankets back over his shivering body. He ignored Venom's growl at being called a parasite. "How about you get back to figuring out how to help me beat this and then I won't have to sneeze as often. We'll both be happy."
...We need the mailman.
Eddie pulled the blanket over his head.