Chapter Text
“You want me to what?”
When he got out of bed that morning, Peter never would have guessed that he’d be standing here in Eddie Brock’s apartment - Eddie Brock, of all people - staring down at an unsettlingly familiar dark moving blob cupped in Eddie’s hands.
“They’re getting sick of being cooped up,” Eddie explained in pleading tones. “We’re trying to do it right this time. The others - the other symbiotes that Venom spawned - they all turned out bad. They all turned into monsters. We don’t want that for Sleeper. We want something… better.”
Well, that definitely raised more questions than it answered. The questions crowded and jostled each other in Peter’s mind, so that the only thing he could get out was, “Sleeper?”
“That’s their name.” And sure enough, upon hearing the name the blob shifted in Eddie’s hands, a few tendrils creeping out, as though curious. One tendril wrapped itself around Eddie’s thumb, another around his index finger.
“That’s your…” Peter was on the verge of hysterical laughter, he could feel it. “That’s your baby. Yours and Venom’s?”
“Our child, yes.”
“How does that even…” Peter abruptly started shaking his head. “You know what? Nope. Don’t need the mental image. Please feel free not to explain.”
“Will you do it?” Eddie persisted.
Oh, right. The favor. “You want me to be… Sleeper’s host? Me?” Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow. “But you hate me. Venom hates me. Of all the people… I’m the one who screwed Venom up in the first place, remember?”
Eddie’s face twitched in a way that made it clear Venom was saying something to him. “You’ll do better this time,” he said aloud, in a way that made the statement sound a lot like a threat.
Peter looked down at the blob again. Damn it. He had a hard time saying no when someone was asking for his help. “For how long?” he asked carefully.
“Just a few months,” Eddie said quickly. “Just to help Sleeper find their feet, guide them to maturity. Symbiotes don’t exactly have childhoods. Even this…” He waved his hand at the tank by the window. “What we’ve been doing, nurturing them, it’s not what’s usually done on Venom’s planet. The symbiotes just spawn and leave their offspring behind to fend for themselves. But that’s how Carnage was made and…” Eddie’s voice shook a little. “We can’t let Sleeper turn out like Carnage. It has to be better this time.”
Yeah, another Carnage running around didn’t sound like a lot of fun. Silently cursing himself for being such a soft touch, Peter asked carefully, “What would I have to do?”
“The same sort of thing you always do,” Eddie replied. “Protect people. Save people. Stop bad people. Be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” That last part came out a little sarcastically, but Eddie looked sincere. “And… be kind. Be kind to Sleeper. I think that’s what was missing before. The kindness.”
Peter had a suspicion that he was being scolded. But maybe it was deserved. Looking back… maybe he should have handled it better, the first time around. It would have saved a lot of people from a lot of pain.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Fine, I’ll take care of them, for a little while. They’d better not make any messes on my carpet, though.”
The blob appeared to tremble in offense.
Eddie nodded stiffly. He didn’t exactly look delighted that Peter had accepted - in fact, he almost looked as though he’d wished Peter had said no. He held out his cupped hands, and Peter tentatively reached out a hand.
“Gently,” Eddie warned, and Peter was about to retort when he realized that Eddie was talking to the symbiote, not him.
Slowly, as if mocking their father, the blob extended a tendril towards Peter’s fingers. Sleeper felt a little cool to the touch. More tendrils reached out, pulling the mass off Eddie’s hand and onto Peter’s arm, and then Peter felt them sinking into his skin. He shuddered, the sensation bringing back bad memories, but he let it happen.
“It’s alright,” Eddie said softly, and this time Peter knew that it wasn’t addressed to him. He could see black tendrils gathered at Eddie’s shoulders, as if anxiously peering over them. “They’ll be OK.”
“Are you sure Venom’s cool with this?” Peter asked nervously, feeling the symbiote spreading through his body, getting to know their new environs.
“It was Venom’s idea.”
Weird. So weird. Peter couldn’t say that he really understood it - why Venom would trust him, of all people, not to turn their child into another monster. All he could do was was try to make sure that trust wasn’t misplaced.
Hungry!
Peter jumped a little as the shrill voice rattled through his head.
“Oh,” Eddie said, rushing over to the couch, which had a suitcase lying on it. “Yeah, you’ll want this.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “You packed some jammies and a toothbrush?”
“Not exactly.” Eddie unzipped the corner of the suitcase so that Peter could see inside. There were about a thousand bars of chocolate in there. “It’s this or brains. I figured you’d prefer chocolate.”
“Well what do you know, there’s an upside to this.”
Suddenly his hand jerked out right in front of him, out of his control. Peter stared at it in alarm, trying and failing to move it.
“Nicely!” Eddie scolded.
Peter regained control of his hand. He wiggled his fingers, but kept it outstretched. He could sense that the symbiote wanted something. Sure enough, a tendril soon extended from his palm, reaching out, and one of the tendrils curling over Eddie’s shoulder wriggled forward, until the two symbiotes were touching. Peter jumped as he heard Venom’s voice in his head.
We will miss you.
We will return, parent.
You are our favorite child.
We know.
“Not really supposed to say that,” Eddie muttered.
But it’s true, Eddie.
The tendrils disconnected then, Venom drawing back into Eddie’s body. Eddie stepped forward, a stern expression on his face.
“This isn’t for you.”
“Wha-”
Before Peter could finish the question, the breath was squeezed out of him as Eddie wrapped him a bear hug that lifted him about two inches off the ground.
“Be good,” Eddie whispered. It sounded more like a plea than a command.
Peter grabbed one of the chocolate bars from the suitcase and asked Eddie to drop the rest off at his apartment (the window was always open). Pulling his mask back on, he crawled out of the window and up to the top of the building, then perched on the corner of the roof and pulled the bottom of his mask back up just enough to expose his mouth, so he could wolf down the chocolate. He wished he’d grabbed a second bar. He was starving.
When he was done, Peter screwed up the chocolate wrapper into a ball, bound it with a little webbing to weigh it down, then closed one eye, took aim, and threw it off the roof. Several seconds later, it landed neatly in a trash can on the street below.
“First rule of being a good guy: no littering.”
Want to climb that building.
“That building? Stark Tower?”
Yes.
“What the hell, I wouldn’t mind giving Tony a scare. Let’s see what you can do.”
Peter somehow felt the symbiote grin, and then Sleeper was pouring out of his skin, covering him, becoming him. He was taller now, and when he looked down at his hands they were yellow claws, tendrils peeling off them like smoke. Peter forced himself to wilfully cede some control, to allow Sleeper to flex their new body, stretch their new limbs. It didn’t feel quite like being possessed, or like a tug-of-war for control - more like a balance. A symbiosis.
“OK, Sleeper. Let’s go.”