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Venom awoke at half past midnight to the sound of creaking wood.
He tried not to berate himself, instead focusing on trying to relax his stiff body that was all but screaming at him to get up, get out of bed, prepare for something dangerous. It was a conditioned response, immediate reactions, an integral part of assassin training.
Despite having run the bakery for nearly a year, he still had to deal with all the instincts that the Guild had beaten into him. He’d been able to start sleeping through the night proper some of the time, but just about anything louder than breathing sent him scrambling for a weapon and gearing up for a fight. It was nice that his bedmate could power himself off, both keeping very quiet and choosing to not rouse when Venom jolted awake in the middle of the night every other day.
The noise was somewhere outside their bedroom door, skirting the area close to the wall. He couldn’t tell for sure if they were moving closer to open his door, or to simply walk past. Without knowing for sure, Venom let his hand slowly ease towards his bedside table, with his pool cue leaning against and a very sharp knife hidden in the top drawer. The sound inched closer, just enough that he could better hear who it belonged to.
Venom was familiar with all of the common footsteps that passed through the upper loft. He recognized them quite easily as Bedman’s light, uneven gait, though the details seemed less important than the reason that he was up in the middle of the night in the first place.
The door squeaked open quietly, with careful hands that seemed intent to make as little noise as possible. But- why exactly? For what reason?
His mind was already clear and focused, and the first thought it fell on was a surprise attack. It must have been some sort of trickery, attacking while Venom was at his most vulnerable. He’s hardly ever lost a fight, even when ambushed, but he knew for certain he was still vulnerable as he was. His instincts and fighting abilities were as sharp as ever, but he’d barely picked up a weapon in months unless it was for making something to sell in the store.
But, again, why the subtlety? What was the point of any of it in the first place? The concept of their reconciliation sluggishly caught up to the rest of his conscious mind. Bedman had seemed perfectly dutiful in kneading bread and carrying delivery boxes. He was still kind of a prick, undeniably, and a smart-mouth, but not outright murderous anymore. Why this out of nowhere? Had it all secretly been some long-con plan? Luring him into a false sense of security before taking revenge?
Venom felt his muscles growing taut. He wasn’t going to give his position away immediately, but he was prepared, for whatever was happening, he was ready and waiting patiently to defend himself and retaliate against-
A faint noise reached his ears, cut off before it could form anything understandable.
He could make out something else, something different from words. Sniffling? Was the kid crying?
“‘m sorry…” He tried speaking again, still hardly above a whisper. “C’n I…?”
Robo was still thoroughly asleep, and Venom wasn’t sure how to react. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it was. Some sort of remorse before attacking…? But that didn’t make sense. Of the few puzzle pieces he had in this scenario, none of them fit together. Was he better off just giving up on the anticipation?
The blankets by his feet were pulled back, making Venom flinch and tense up further. That didn’t make any sense. If the kid wanted to stab him, why wouldn’t he have just gone for the chest or throat?
Rather than cold metal, warmth started wiggling up the side of his leg, along with the sound of the covers shifting. Robo was still completely asleep, but he could feel something practically vibrating against his skin. Wait, why was he shivering? The room wasn’t remotely cold. Even if it was, why didn't Bedman just take one of the blankets off the couch? Even if he wasn’t being attacked, Venom was still terribly confused.
He felt a head butt against his ribs briefly, leaving behind a smear of something cold and wet. Tears. So he had been crying. But what was this for? Was he trying to get warm? Was it some strange attempt to find comfort?
A confused swirl of emotions bloomed in his chest. Unconsciously, Venom let his arm go slack. It seemed to make a convincing enough display of unassuming limpness to mimic being asleep. Something soft pushed under it, settling down against him. He took a momentary risk, cracking his eyelids open just slightly to get a better look at whatever the heck was going on. Robo was still on his pillow, but Bedman had wriggled in between the two to huddle against Venom. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly as he continued to shiver, but he didn’t feel cold, nor was there any characteristic prickle of a fever, just blotchy red cheeks from crying.
...A nightmare? Ironic as that was, it made sense. It still didn’t fully explain why they were now all in the same bed, but...
“Mmh...g’night, dad.”
Of the confused feelings all tangling around one another, Venom felt some wordless sense of warmth slither into his blood. Well, confused as he was, he was still supposed to be feigning sleep, wasn’t he? No point in blowing it now.
Although, once he was absolutely sure that the boy was asleep, he crooked his fingers, gently burying them in soft violet hair.