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The tipping point is when Eddie slips in the shower. Venom catches him, like he always does, but judging by the growl it earns Eddie he thinks Venom had been seriously considering letting him fall. (Suddenly he’s really glad he managed to punch some mannerisms into his arrogant alien eel.)
Eddie blinks, the dim bathroom light suddenly too bright, assaulting his tired eyes. He feels a little raw, scraped out. “Thanks” he mumbles, sounding as if he can’t decide whether to be surprised or annoyed.
Venom’s tone is unmistakable, however, mocking him. If hitting your head is what it takes to get you to see sense, maybe I should have let you slip.
Eddie groans, not really paying attention. His foot hurts, he must have stubbed his toe on the edge of the shower when he slipped. “The perfect cavalier, as always” he mutters under his breath, examining the limb, experimentally poking and promptly flinching back as a quick flash of pain flares up and Eddie hisses.
Venom just talks right over him. Or maybe you would have knocked yourself out. Would have spared me the trouble.
“That’s love, right there.” Eddie turns off the shower, snatching a towel from the rack, pointedly ignoring the black tendrils that curl around his chest, pleasantly warm and soaking up the droplets of water painting his skin in a low shimmer. It’s become a tentative habit after that one time Eddie had bitched at Venom for completely unnecessarily deciding to go for a spontaneous swim after a dinner date. Eddie does find his partner’s attempts at romance rather amusing, even if they sometimes venture on the morally questionable side.
It’s endearing, frankly, if unabashedly possessive. Venom’s touch is always claiming, his hugs a fraction too tight. Eddie doesn’t mind, he’s gotten the message months ago and he has no intention of wandering off. Tonight, however, he’s not really in the mood for Venom’s schemes.
Would not be the first time, either. It sounds unbearably smug and Eddie has zero capacity to deal with Venom’s offending brand of humour right now.
He stops in his tracks, on his way to the kitchen to make coffee. “You know what wouldn’t be the first time either? Me locking you in a jar.” If he’s going to be up all night, he needs caffeine. Allowing an alien whose species has apparently discovered some sort of substitute for sleep to live rent-free in your body does not solve the human need for sleep.
Venom whines in his head. Now you are being cruel. Rude, Eddie.
“And you are being unnecessarily chatty” Eddie grumbles, going through the motions of prepping the coffee machine. He’s had a rough week; his last report had been a bit of a mud-slinging and he could do with a day off – or a week, he wouldn’t complain – and admittedly, he isn’t the most attentive and patient person when it comes to his body’s basic needs, but he promised Anne to help her with her current client and he’s nothing if not a man of his word.
To get his point across – emphasis is the only way Venom learns and Eddie’s too tired for jokes – Eddie holds up the jar housing the ground coffee. “I’ve got one right here. I’m feeling merciful, it’s even a comparatively spacious domicile.”
Venom makes sure to let him feel his discontent with a shove to his ribs that might be considered violent before retreating to settle somewhere low around Eddie’s stomach – his favourite spot when he wants to get on Eddie’s nerves. Which really isn’t hard to accomplish with what little sleep Eddie has had this week but he lets it go because let Venom be miffed all he wants, Eddie’s got work to do.
The coffee machine emits a stuttering rumble and then the first drops of freshly brewed fuel patter against the bottom of the pot. Eddie gives a satisfied nod and shuffles over to the table to wake up his laptop, then makes a quick trip to his bedroom to put on some comfortable clothes. The sun has long since disappeared behind the horizon and the streets have emptied, all the reasonable people with actual lives having gone home, leaving the night folk – the disillusioned, the insomniacs, and the forever-twenty-seven party goers – to populate the city.
Pottering over to the window Eddie draws the curtain shut against the scattered rectangles of yellow light on the opposite side of the street and turns around, giving his shabby apartment a cursory once-over. Whatever Anne keeps saying about him looking much healthier and generally better, his living arrangements certainly haven’t improved. Not that he’s put much effort into changing that. Resigning himself to his fate, he walks around the table to get a mug from the cupboard. He drums his fingers on the counter while he waits for the coffee.
This new client of Anne’s – prospective client, if Eddie recalls correctly – outwardly seems to be an honest man but Anne says she’s got a bad feeling about him and Eddie knows better than anyone that honesty is relative. If, after… well, everything, they have one thing in common, it’s that their gut feelings rarely betray them. So when Anne had asked him, a little urgently, to dig a bit into the man’s past, Eddie couldn’t have refused if he wanted to. As much as it was a favour for Annie, he’d also smelled a potential new story. Eddie’s always been of the unhealthily and downright pesteringly curious sort and this had immediately piqued his interest. If that man had skeletons in his closet, Eddie was going to unearth them. Old habits die hard and all that.
The coffee machine stops its steady hum and Eddie blinks himself out of his thoughts, blindly groping for the pot. He pours himself a mug of coffee and inhales the aroma, clasping both hands around the hot ceramic, smiling contentedly. Venom seems to have given up on needling him, probably still peeved. The symbiote hasn’t moved, Eddie can still feel him in the same place. He shrugs, smothering a yawn behind his hand and sitting down in front of his laptop. Time to work his magic.
The first mug of coffee vanishes in less than seven seconds after a sideways glance had reminded Eddie of its presence twenty minutes into his research. Anne’s reservations about the client had been justified, Eddie has already gotten his hands on some very interesting rumours. That being said, he absolutely detests cold coffee. He inhales the lukewarm liquid with a slightly disgruntled look in a few gulps and gets up to get a refill.
The space between the table and the kitchen counter doesn’t measure more than a couple of feet but somehow Eddie manages to trip over his own feet on the way back, coffee sloshing around in the mug and spilling over the rim. He curses under his breath, stumbling the last few steps and depositing the mug on the table where it innocently paints a brownish ring onto the wood.
Your muscles are approaching a state of relaxation, the voice in his head helpfully supplies.
Eddie glares at the mug. “How about another explanation: My muscles are being used as a toy by an alien puppeteer.”
A short ripple of amusement resonates in Eddie’s veins which is probably Venom’s equivalent of a chuckle.
I might have given science a nudge.
Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest, watching the wet ring around the bottom of the mug grow wider. “Here’s some science for you: I’ve got to finish this because Anne needs the information by tomorrow. If I happen to find anything – which I did – and forget to tell her because you’re bored and in need of a hobby, she might end up in a disastrous mess which I will be responsible for. Are we clear?”
Your body temperature is falling.
“Are you quite done?”
I can keep going.
“How about you don’t.” Eddie sighs, sitting down again. He knows Venom means well but the way he goes about that sentiment does leave something to be desired.
What do you desire, Eddie?
Eddie almost spits out his mouthful of coffee. “Get out of my head!” he hisses. “Fucking parasite. I should’ve left you at that lab.” He wipes the table with the sleeve of his hoodie, grimacing.
But you didn’t, Venom reminds him cheerfully.
Eddie really, really wants to punch a hole through the table. “You’re such a child.”
Neither a child nor a parasite. Venom sounds slightly irritated but then his tone changes to something that Eddie can only call defiantly soft. Significant other.
“Significant annoyance” Eddie throws back because he’s feeling mean.
That shuts Venom up enough for Eddie to concentrate on his research. Rumour has it the man – Stewart Parsons – has been involved in several environmental scandals over the past twelve years but there’s never been any hard proof and he’s managed to bury it deep, presenting himself to the public as a charitable philanthropist. Eddie scribbles down some notes; this really looks set to be a candidate for his next report.
He sips his coffee and spends the next half an hour reading through newspaper articles but eventually, the words start to blur and merge together and Eddie has to blink several times to get the letters into the correct order. When he finds himself rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time, he decides he needs more caffeine. Making sure Venom won’t trip him up this time Eddie watches his every step and pays extra attention on not spilling hot coffee over his fingers. Extraterrestrial healing powers or not, burning himself still hurts like hell.
Venom chooses this moment to pipe up from somewhere at the base of his skull. Your brain activity has decreased and your heart rate has slowed despite your ill-advised caffeine intake.
Eddie rolls his eyes and generously decides not to ignore him. “Thanks, I know my body.”
All evidence is pointing to the contrary.
Eddie defiantly takes a big gulp of his coffee, burns his tongue, and flips his symbiote the bird.
It’s 1.15am when his Internet connection decides to die on him. Heaving a gigantic sigh Eddie rubs at his eyes, trying to get technology to obey him. After a few failed attempts he reverts to the expert advice of have you tried turning it off and on again? and pushes his mug aside so he can brace his elbow on the table and rest his chin on his palm. Eyes fixed on the glowing screen Eddie drifts off, letting his heavy eyes close for just a second, just as long as it takes for his laptop to power up again. The darkness is welcoming, a relief from the piercing brightness of the screen.
Your respiratory rate is decreasing. Our body is showing signs of fatigue.
Eddie jumps and almost sweeps the mug off the table. “What the ever-loving…” He massages his temples, trying to drown out Venom’s booming voice. His laptop screen is patiently asking him to type in his password. A glimpse at the clock tells him he’s passed out for ten minutes.
In other words, you are tired.
“I’m fine, okay?” Eddie snaps, praying for Venom to just shut up. “Besides, I’m trying to concentrate here.”
Venom knocks against his skull from the inside – which is by far the weirdest thing Eddie’s ever felt – and Eddie thinks he can actually hear him sigh. Eddie. My stupid darling Eddie.
Eddie is this close to giving him a piece of his mind but he’s too exhausted for more than ten words per sentence. “I promised Anne I’d help her with this. Simple research about a possibly fishy client. Is that so hard to understand? That I want to help her and that it can’t wait?”
Why would you do that?
“Why would I—” Eddie rakes a hand down his face, exasperated. “Because she happens to be one of the very few people in my life I care about.” Their break-up might have been of the deep-cutting, hurting sort but they’ve come a long way and Eddie is proud to say that they’re amiable. A healthy, friendly relationship. That does nothing for the fact that Eddie still can’t deny her anything. Dan, of all people, finds it charming.
It is not as important as resting.
Sighing, Eddie rubs his forehead. His eyes are starting to burn if he keeps them open for longer than a minute at a time. “Look, I’m not that tired, okay? I’ll be fine.” It’s not as if Venom doesn’t have a point, focusing is increasingly proving to be a challenge and it’s going to help no one if all Eddie will be able to present Anne with the next day is meticulously compiled gibberish. Still, what part of urgent is getting lost in translation here?
Venom doesn’t offer up a retort. Instead Eddie feels him darting out into every corner of his body, sure, with no amount of hesitation. A pleasant warmth spreads through him and Eddie has to admit, he has been feeling a little cold. It’s considerate, caring, and Eddie allows himself a small smile. But then he feels Venom slowly crawling up his spine, a tingling sort of sensation that Eddie usually enjoys but now he leans back harder against the back of the chair, squashing any attempt at distraction. Venom promptly shoves at his head with a disgruntled tendril.
Eddie glares daggers at it and turns his attention back to his laptop screen. It’s hopeless. The article swims before his eyes and he fails miserably at suppressing a massive yawn.
Darling. The tendril darts out to gently nudge Eddie’s hands away from the keyboard, then carefully shuts the laptop.
“Hey” Eddie protests meekly but there’s no heat behind his words.
The tendril travels down to his right hand and more black oozes from his skin as it slips through the spaces between his fingers, forming a hand. Venom squeezes lightly and the pulse of warmth is all it takes for Eddie to give in. He lets his eyes close and enjoys the sensation, his mind focusing lazily on their entwined fingers. He absently strokes inky knuckles with his thumb, shuddering pleasantly at the answering wave of contentment.
Come to bed. Venom all but purrs into his ear and Eddie suddenly finds it incredibly hard to resist.
He wouldn’t be Eddie Brock if he didn’t try, anyway. “I’m okay” he slurs, bodily defences long down.
But I won’t be happy until I can watch you sleep, safe.
Eddie sluggishly translates it to But I won’t stop pestering you until you do what I say. He chuckles. It should sound disturbingly creepy. Maybe he’s insane for finding it thoughtful but Venom has a way of making even the most innocent of statements sound like innuendo.
Silky threads slither along his back, starting low and unfolding into every direction, around his sides, up towards his neck and around his shoulders, forming a net. Eddie doesn’t have to look at the tendrils resting on his chest to know that his back is covered in an inky embrace.
Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. There’s a teasing lilt to the words but they sound so genuine and tender that Eddie can’t help but smile. It’s disarming.
With his eyes still closed, he leans back into the feeling, Venom holding him. “Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?”
The reply sounds smug and hopeful at the same time and it makes Eddie huff a tired laugh.
Is it working?
Eddie wants to just let himself fall against Venom, into him, knowing his love will catch him and carry him to shore, safe and sound. This is their dance, their love song, and Eddie doesn’t have to know every step for his feet will be guided, as surely and strongly as the force lifting him now, carrying him to his bed. Venom gently deposits him on the mattress, reaching out to pull the blanket up over Eddie. Eddie burrows into the pillow, too tired to care about the world. He knows he can put his mind to rest, close his eyes and still be sure nothing will ever happen to him because his partner, his love, will always be there, never apart, never alone. Venom keeps reminding him but Eddie already knows he’s here for good and why would Eddie want anything else? He gives the hand in his own a reassuring squeeze, knowing that Venom won’t fall when Eddie stumbles, he won’t fall when Eddie is shook.
“You can feel me” Eddie whispers, an afterthought, a belated reply.
I can. The words reverberate through his body, a gentle shiver flowing in waves as Venom cradles him, one tiny tendril coming to rest on Eddie’s heart, a guard through the night.