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Two Months
Venom didn’t like it when Eddie brought work home with him, giving up his evenings and lunches and weekends to interviews and writing and research, or lying awake at night ruminating on his latest story.
So the first night that Eddie came home, grabbed a book, pulled the comforter off the bed, and hauled it over to the couch, Venom was glad his partner was getting some rest. He burrowed deep into the intestines and settled in for some quiet time.
There was a flicker of an image in Eddie’s thoughts—the beach; bloated, rotting bodies. Venom recognized it from their work that morning. Eddie brushed the thought aside and tried to focus on the book. —still unidentified— He kept reading. —missing for weeks; no one was looking— He forced their eyes to move to the next line. —could be even more still out there— He tugged the blanket tighter.
What are you doing?
“Not thinking about it,” Eddie muttered vaguely. His memories were flooded in the smell of rot. He buried their face in the comforter and breathed in the stale body odor of bedding he had put off washing for three months.
So that was why they called it a comforter, Venom thought. He wondered why this morning’s work was so upsetting to Eddie. It didn’t feel like fear, but Venom couldn’t imagine what else it could be. Eddie saw—collaborated on—violence much worse than this on a regular basis. Is the killer going to come after us?
“What part of ‘I don’t want to think about it’ is confusing?” Eddie snapped. Venom subsided. Eddie went back to reading for about five minutes before he put the book down with a sigh. “I'm not scared. I'm mad. Whoever killed them picked off people no one would miss, because he could. They didn’t deserve to get dumped in the ocean; they didn’t deserve to have no one come looking for them; they didn’t deserve the police ignoring it all.”
Ah. This was about Good People and Bad People again. Venom was always lost in these conversations. You found them, he risked.
Eddie sighed. “Yeah. Wish it wasn't just me.” Venom left it at that.
Until a week later, at least, when they found the man responsible.
We should eat him, Venom suggested.
“If he disappears, their families won’t know what happened,” Eddie said. The same families who hadn’t come looking for them? Venom didn’t ask. He left human morality up to Eddie. “We have to turn him in.” That meant sitting down with the police, describing everything he had found, looking at more photos of bodies. And then writing it all up in an article.
Eddie spent the day reliving what he’d seen a dozen times, and when they went home he locked his door and went to grab the comforter again. Venom didn't quite understand it, but he wished he could fix it. Well, he could try.
Venom poured out, coating him, wrapping around him. “What are you doing?” Eddie sounded suspicious.
I am comforting.
“Oh. You’re not mad?” Eddie asked. “That I turned him in?” He was already wrapping their arms around them in a sort of self-hug as their feet turned back towards the couch.
There will be other nights to hunt. Tonight I will keep you company.
~*~
Three Months
After that, Eddie stopped worrying about what the neighbors would see and just kept the curtains drawn all the time. Venom fretted at first that the constant gloom would be bad for his human partner, but Eddie seemed to adjust to it. And for Venom, darkness was preferable.
As soon as the door shut behind them, the jacket Eddie was wearing melted into glossy black as Venom draped himself more comfortably over their shoulders.
He purred a little when Eddie took the hot chocolate down from the cabinet and Eddie answered with a contented humming sound in the back of his throat.
Are you trying to purr too? Venom asked, amused.
“Sure,” Eddie laughed. “I guess that’s a human purr.” Venom felt… somehow about that. His new life with Eddie was full of little emotions he didn’t know the names for.
Eddie put the cocoa in the microwave and leaned against the counter to wait. He let their fingers drift to the dark mass on their shoulder and started running them back and forth over the surface. What new human gesture was this? Was Eddie trying to tell him to go back inside? Venom did.
“Oh, sorry.”
For what.
“The…” Eddie mimed the motion he’d been making, “stroking. You didn’t like it?”
Venom got the feeling he'd misinterpreted something. Why did you do it?
“You ever gonna run outta questions?”
When you stop doing weird things.
Eddie shrugged. “Thought it might feel nice, I guess.”
Hm, Venom said noncommittally. He reflected as they watched the mug revolve in silence. Knowing that the touch had been for his benefit generated more of those weird new emotions. He wasn’t sure if they were good. They were mildly stressful, but maybe just because they were unfamiliar. He tried to focus on the physical sensation, which was more straightforward. It had been pleasant, he thought.
It did.
“Huh?” Eddie asked, stirring the cocoa.
Feel nice.
“Hm. Why do you sound surprised?”
Now who has questions.
“We got a lot to learn about each other,” Eddie said. But he didn't press for a real answer. Venom spread out over their shoulders again. He didn't openly ask Eddie to resume stroking him, but Eddie did anyway. “You know, when I first saw you I thought you’d be wet and slimy. For someone made of liquid you’re sorta… I dunno, silky.”
That didn’t seem to require an answer, so Venom didn’t give it one. But somehow he found himself relishing the comment. Why? Nothing wrong with being slimy. Lots of species were slimy. Slime could be very useful. Except. Except that Eddie would have liked it less. Not liked him less, Venom knew that instinctively, but would have enjoyed touching him less. This new life was very complicated.
He kept quiet as they got comfortable and pulled up Netflix on the laptop. Eddie leaned back against the pillow (there were no throw pillows, only the bed pillow which migrated to the couch during the day) and Venom spread out over them. Eddie resumed the touch as soon as they were settled. “Is this good?”
Yes. You already asked that.
If he was being rude (He probably was, but redundant conversations were boring), Eddie didn’t seem bothered. “I mean like, is there a different way to do this that you’d enjoy more?”
Venom considered. More pressure might have been nicer—Not having a differentiated surface organ made it hard to register light touch. In fact, Venom perceived Eddie's contact more as heat and electricity than touch per se. Eddie scratching or combing their fingers through Venom would have been a much stronger sensation. But the flipside was that pressure felt threatening—no, not threatening, vulnerable—and Venom didn’t want to deal with that right now. Maybe eventually he would want to try other kinds of touch, but he wanted to get used to this amount of newness first, he decided.
No. This is good.
Eddie purred again as he sipped their cocoa.
~*~
Six Months
They were spending a quiet evening sitting up in bed, scrolling through Twitter. Venom was draped over Eddie like a blanket, relaxed enough that his mass was pooling on the bed instead of wrapping tightly around like he did when Eddie was stressed. (It was their mass, of course, but Venom was starting to recognize that when Eddie said “your” and “my” he didn’t mean they wouldn’t share, it was just his language-limited way of specifying which body parts he was referring to.)
Eddie clicked over to a CNN article about a recent neurological study. The researchers had found a new brain region associated with facial processing. The article opened with a summary of the results, then went on to detail why the new discoveries were important, explaining how humans not only recognized identities and emotions by faces, but also used faces to make all kinds of unconscious judgments, like whether a person was likely to be aggressive, or religious, or good at sports.
Venom wondered what other humans guessed about Eddie from his face. (Was Eddie good at sports? He didn’t even know.) Venom saw what Eddie saw when he looked in a mirror, but sight wasn’t a primary sense for him like it was for humans. He wanted to know what Eddie looked like in his own way.
On impulse, he manifested a bit of mass near the chin and started outlining the shape of the jaw before continuing on up to the temple and across the forehead.
“What are you doing?" Eddie asked.
Venom paused and melted the tendril back into the skin. They touched all the time; why was this different?
“You don’t have to stop,” Eddie said. He reached up to feel where Venom’s touch had been, as though he expected to find some residue left behind. “I’m just asking.”
It was too much to explain. Venom tried to press his thoughts into their bond. He felt Eddie fumble for them for a moment.
“Okay. I think I get that. So what do you notice?”
Venom resumed his touch, tracking down the nose, tracing the mouth, then spreading across the cheek and around the eye, getting so close to the edge of the eyelids that he brushed the lashes. The eyes blinked automatically.
He had a refreshed sense-memory of the face's shape, but he still didn’t understand its significance. It is your face, Venom said simply. It is my favorite face, but I am biased.
Eddie laughed. “Your face is my favorite too.”
Lies, Venom teased, extending a tendril to poke him in the side.
“What?” Eddie seemed alarmed.
I remember what you thought, the first time you saw my face, Venom explained. You hate it. You think I look like a sea monster.
“V, no! I didn’t know you then. I was scared and I— Shit, V, I didn't realize you caught all that. Have you been thinking that this whole time? I love your face.”
Eddie seemed surprisingly distressed about an innocent misunderstanding. Okay.
“…Is it?”
You do not need to like my face.
“Um.”
I was not offended, Eddie, Venom said patiently. My face does not matter to me.
“Okay.” Eddie still seemed baffled. “Well, I like it whether it matters or not. I’m glad you’re not upset I guess.”
Does it bother you that I do not find your face attractive? Venom asked.
“I thought you said you liked it?”
I like it because it is yours. It seems like a perfectly good face, as faces go. That is not the same thing as being attracted to it.
“Oh. Well when you put it that way, no, I don’t mind.”
Hm.
“Do Klyntar even feel attraction?”
Venom paused. Did he? He hadn’t considered the question before. Not in the way humans do, I think. But our instinct to find a good host-match might be a kind of attraction.
“Mm, makes sense. So what do you look for in a symbiote?”
Taste, Venom answered immediately. You taste delicious.
Eddie froze. “V, you’re not… eating me. Right?”
No! Eddie. Why would he—
“‘You’re delicious’ isn't exactly a compliment, V.”
No. It’s the wrong word. Shit. Not delicious. Beautiful? You taste beautiful.
“Huh?”
It is hard to find a word. Klyntar use taste for all things, but y our species only uses taste for food. English does not have words to describe beautiful-tasting things that are not food.
The alarm churning in Eddie's brain eased back into curiosity. “Is that why you’re always licking random shit?”
Yes.
“Huh. Sorry I assumed the worst.”
Venom squeezed around him. Not your fault. I said it wrong. Left unspoken was the fact that if Eddie were better able to communicate mentally, there would be less pressure on Venom to put his thoughts into English.
Organs are important too, Venom picked up where he’d left off. Yours are good.
“What’s good for an organ? Like healthy?”
Cozy, Venom said thoughtfully.
“What does that mean?”
What a bizarre question. Eddie knew what “cozy” meant. Why would he need it defined? They are warm and squishy. Lots of crevices to hide in. Very comfortable.
“Okay,” Eddie said slowly. “Cozy. Right.”
Yes, Venom agreed seriously. And nicely shaped.
“…Do I wanna know?”
They… He couldn’t think how to explain it. How do humans know if a face is beautiful?
Eddie shrugged. “I dunno; we just do. I heard symmetry’s part of it but it’s not like we’re, y’know, consciously thinking ‘Oh, their face’s so symmetrical.’ Different people have different preferences, I guess.”
Yes. It is difficult to explain about organs too, Venom reflected. Your liver, for example. It has a nice… swoop. Very elegant.
Eddie laughed. “This is officially the weirdest conversation I have ever had. My liver is elegant. What the fuck.”
And Venom felt… embarrassed? Annoyed? Defensive? Whatever it was, it was unpleasant.
It is, he retorted, more sharply than he’d meant to. It wasn't until he felt the sting of Eddie's dismissal that he realized how delicate the conversation had become, how many private thoughts he'd let slip already.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—Thank you, that’s sweet.”
It is fine. Venom shook off the feeling. I know this is strange for you.
“Maybe not that strange,” Eddie mused. “I didn’t know about symbiosis before, but I think I wanted it anyway. At least, I knew that something felt wrong. And now I know how amazing you are."
Venom felt a strange dread at the compliment. He wasn't sure why. But he wasn't one to shy away from something that scared him. What do you mean?
Venom felt Eddie's thoughts flick abruptly to Riot and the little he knew of other Klyntar. Venom dug deeper, startled, before he realized that Eddie was trying to put words to what made Venom different.
I found my other. And I was forced to stay with you long enough to know you. I was lucky.
And Eddie, damn him, he laughed again, but it was a soft, affectionate laugh as he said "You were way more than lucky. You were tougher than them."
Untrue.
"I don’t mean physically. What was done to you guys, it fucked them up. I don't gotta tell you that. The way they did things wasn't just wrong; it was like mirror-world, batshit backwards-upside-down. And you knew it. You went along with it but you wanted something else, even when you didn't think it was possible. And then when you came here and everything went to hell you didn't fall in line when Riot threatened you, or run and hide, or try to get off-world. You turned everything right-side up again. You won. Because you're amazing."
Venom knew very suddenly why he’d been afraid: he’d expected Eddie to talk about how Venom was always with him, or how Venom healed him, or how strong they were together. Things Eddie liked about symbiosis. Not things Eddie liked about him.
This was a lot to think about.
"And for what it's worth, I think you're cozy too," Eddie said with a smile.
Venom curled up tighter around Eddie. That was a lot of talking. Let's be cozy now.
~*~
Seven Months
"Okay, so, now that you guys have been together a while, I was wondering, are you romantic or platonic?"
Eddie choked on his coffee.
"Eddie, are you okay?" Dan asked.
Eddie coughed. "I'm fine; I'm fine; wrong tube. I, uh… wasn't expecting that question."
Anne eyed him apprehensively from across the table. "Sorry, I didn’t think it’d be a big thing."
It was, after all, the first question most soulmates got asked. Eddie had only avoided it so far because no one knew about his soulmate. Except, of course, the two people sitting across from him.
For their regular coffee date (which wasn't that kind of date, yet) Anne and Dan had considerately suggested they buy coffee to go and drinking it in the privacy of their apartment, where Venom could participate in conversation. So despite the gorgeous mid-morning sunshine, the blinds were closed and the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table sipping three lattes and a hot cocoa by the yellow light of an incandescent bulb.
"We're… um…"
"Eddie, if it makes you uncomfortable—" Dan started.
"No." Eddie took another swallow of coffee. "It's fine."
Venom sipped his cocoa and watched the humans with open curiosity. As he'd gotten used to his new planet he’d started taking more of an interest in weird human things like coffee dates and arbitrarily classifying relationships.
"Uh, neither. I guess?" Eddie tried.
"Are you saying you don't know yet?" Dan asked.
"We know how we fit together. It's just the words that are a problem. I mean, humans don’t exactly have a category for this."
"But like, and I realize this is none of my business and you obviously don’t have to answer, but are you guys… intimate?" Anne asked, looking baffled.
"Of course," Venom said immediately.
"No, definitely not," Eddie said at the same time. They exchanged confused looks. Then understanding dawned on Eddie. "Oh, V, she means sex."
"Oh. No, not like that," Venom agreed.
"So… just platonic," Anne tried.
Just? Venom protested privately.
"Well," Eddie shrugged.
"Queerplatonic?" Dan suggested. They all stared at him. "Some soulmates—or just relationships in general—are sort of ambiguous, inherently. They're called queerplatonic."
"That might be worth looking into," Eddie hedged. "As far as Earth terminology goes. We usually think of ourselves as symbiotic."
"That makes sense," Dan said. "So how does that work? A symbiotic relationship?"
"With lots of questions.”
"Doesn't that get exhausting?" Anne asked frankly.
"It is sometimes, but mostly it's… freeing. Every other relationship I’ve been in, it was like it was on train tracks, y’know? But this… it’s kinda scary sometimes, not knowing where we’re going. But I like deciding together what we want to be. There's always another surprise—like finding out V's a cuddler,” Eddie added with a smirk to his partner.
It was Venom’s turn to do a double take. “Eddie!” He sounded horrified. "I… protect us."
Eddie shot him a skeptical look.
“Of course you're a cuddler,” Anne laughed. Venom glared at her. “Eddie’s the touchiest person on the planet. I was pretty surprised when I found out you two were soulmates, but that made a lot of sense.”
Venom seemed appeased by the response. The conversation moved on, and eventually Eddie and Venom headed home.
"V. Why were you offended?" Eddie asked as they walked.
When you called me a cuddler?
"Mhm."
I am not in the habit of broadcasting my weaknesses.
"It's not a weakness," Eddie argued.
Not here, Venom confirmed. But fear is a hard habit to break.
Eddie usually struggled to catch Venom's unspoken thoughts, even when they were directed at him, but this one came through clearly: A memory of another Klyntar, an ally, maybe even a friend. A memory of a confession, exploited and traded for their commander's favor.
"I'm sorry that happened, V."
Is it really cuddling? Venom asked.
"Yeah? What else would it—You didn't really think it was protection, did you?"
I had not thought about words for it, Venom mused.
"You were the one who called us 'intimate.'"
Of course. We cannot be more intimate than being symbiotes. Why would intimate mean sex?
"It's just what people say."
I dislike it.
Eddie laughed. "How 'bout we keep doing our thing and forget about idioms that don't make sense?"
By 'our thing' do you mean more cuddling?
"Of course."
I am in.