Work Text:
You walk up to the door, arms full with grocery bags because of your stubborn decision to carry everything at once to prevent any need for a second trip back to the car. The familiar sound of cutlery and the fan of the toaster oven you recently bought can only mean one thing: Venom is hungry and poor Eddie is probably half-awake and unaware of the chaos happening in the kitchen, so two things, actually. Bringing up a leg and softly tapping the toe of your shoe against the door, it swings open a second later thanks to a helping ha—tendril. You set the groceries on the kitchen counter along with the keys.
“What are the two of you up to?” you ask in amusement, trying to hold back a laugh at Venom struggling to operate the small oven.
Venom lets out an annoyed hiss. “Little morsel, why does this machine keep crying?” Venom points an accusatory tendril at the device as it lets out another beep. “Maybe,” they let out a horrified gasp, “maybe it’s dying and can no longer make tater tots?!?!?”
“Calm down, Venom. That’s just the timer going off. Usually, that means it’s done cooking, but it doesn’t seem like you’ve figured out how to actually put anything in it yet.” Eddie explains with a yawn, his appearance still mussed up from sleep.
“Thank you, Eddie. I find your snarky comments very helpful,” Venom replies dryly, looking at you for help.
“Here, I’ll show you how to use it, V. Then you can make all the tater tots you want.” Your words earn a pleased purr from the symbiote as they listen to your instructions. It’s actually kind of cute how eager Venom is to learn how to use the oven, even attaching to you and giving Eddie a chance to sleep in some more.
~~~~~
“No, Venom. You can’t turn the dial all the way, not for tater tots anyway,” you smack a tendril away when they attempt to do it again.
Venom gives you a perplexed look. “But Nibbles, more heat leads to a quicker toasting and extra crispy tater tots.”
You place your hands on your hips and Venom mimics your actions. “On what planet does cooking tater tots at 500 Fahrenheit yield good results?”
“Apparently not this one,” Venom grumbles, fishing a frozen tater tot from the bag and munching on it.
“Why do you bother cooking them if you’re just going to eat some of them like that?”
“Because the crunchy outside and fluffy inside is reminiscent of tasty human flesh, especially when there’s ketchup everywhere and—“
You put up a hand to stop the topic from continuing. “I get the idea,” you hastily shut Venom down, quietly quelling the queasiness in your stomach.
Ten minutes later the apartment is filled with the scent of fried potatoes. You start making waffle batter, which Venom insists on helping with and mixes everything together while you add the ingredients to the bowl. You grab a can of whipped cream from the fridge and take out a box of berries you bought from the store.
When you turn around to start cooking the waffles, you notice that there’s a sudden increase of chocolate chips in the batter. You glance over your shoulder and are met with Venom staring innocently at you, the permanent smile making it difficult to read their expression. Clicking your tongue, you flick Venom’s forehead and mix the batter to incorporate the added chocolate. Tendrils wrap around your waist as another one cheekily adds more chocolate.
“Venom, there’s almost more chocolate than batter!” you chide in exasperation. Your scolding only results in a slimy tongue licking your cheek affectionately. “No that does not make up for you ruining the batter.”
“You can salvage it, Nibbles; you’re smart,” Venom states, watching you expectantly. Huffing out in mock disbelief, you put the bowl in the microwave and heat it at short intervals, mixing in between. Eventually you end up with chocolate batter, but you have to add more flour to balance out the inhuman amount of chocolate. The whisk is left in the sink to be forgotten about until the dishes pile up, and Venom licks the batter off of it, purring in approval.
The green light on the waffle maker flickers on and you give it a quick spray of cooking oil before pouring a generous amount of batter onto the griddle. The sizzling starts immediately and you close the lid, watching the light fade into a red.
Ten minutes later and you have a fat stack of waffles, most of which will be consumed by Eddie and Venom. The oven timer goes off and you can feel Venom fidget with excitement; the tater tots are ready.
~~~~~~
“I see breakfast is ready,” Eddie’s morning voice rumbles behind you. His hands find themselves on your waist and he squeezes gently. You stop rummaging through the fridge and turn your head to look at him, noticing his gaze of admiration directed at the lower half of your body.
“Breakfast is on the table, Eddie,” you tease him in an amused tone. He holds his gaze for a little longer before meeting your eyes
“Sorry, got a little distracted by a snack.” The smirk on his face is anything but apologetic. Venom uncoils from your body and slithers towards Eddie, mumbling about keeping an eye on him. You watch in amusement as a familiar expression washes over his face. “What the fuck, V?” A few seconds pass in silence and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up before coming right back down. “We are not doing that here.”
“What’s the big guy suggesting now?”
“Venom wants to, and I quote, ‘ravage you against the counter.’” His thumbs knead into your hips before he pulls you closer. “Because if I’m going to have indecent thoughts this early in the morning, then they want to at least join in.” His face is so close that his breath is fanning against your lips, and you almost forget how to breathe for a moment.
You kiss the corner of his lips and pull away with a cheeky smile. Heading towards the table, you call out over your shoulder, “Might want to eat before I steal all the waffles.” Eddie shakes his head in amused disbelief and bites his bottom lip at your retreating figure.
As you sit down, you scoop some tater tots onto your plate and squeeze a generous amount of mayonnaise from the bottle you just bought earlier.
“Little morsel, what is that thick white substance you use to coat your tater tots? Is it the same as what we use to coat yo—“
“Mayonnaise! It’s mayonnaise. It’s a sauce made using oil and chicken eggs.” You interrupt before Venom can finish, glaring at Eddie when he snickers at the interaction.
“Interesting. So this is Mayo,” Venom picks up the bottle and examines it, “and it neighs?” A tendril vigorously shakes the mayonnaise and you half-expect it to let out a little whinny in protest. “Your planet has strange customs, Eddie.”
“You’re the strange one, V. What’s not delicious about turning the unborn children of a creature into a condiment?” Eddie quips, brows rising slightly in amusement when Venom appears to seriously mull over the idea.
“Then would unborn humans also make a delicious mayonnaise?” Venom asks, genuinely considering the option. You shoot Eddie a scornful look and he sheepishly shrugs his shoulders in response.
“No, V. Mayonnaise is meant to be made from chicken eggs; human eggs are far too small to be used for that purpose.” Your attempt at persuasion seems to work as Venom nods thoughtfully at your reasoning.
“Yes, you’re right, Nibbles. Less human eggs means less offspring, which means less food for us.” You wipe the imaginary sweat from your forehead and sigh with relief, delivering a swift kick to Eddie’s leg under the table when he gives you an unhelpful thumbs up.
Unaware that Venom’s tongue is nearing your plate, you manage to catch a glimpse of a tater tot disappear along with some mayonnaise. “So? What do you think?” You fold your arms on the table and lean forward.
“Eddie, why have you not introduced us to this mayonnaise before?!?” Venom begins shovelling ungodly amounts of tater tots into their maw, mayonnaise smearing everywhere.
Said Eddie wrinkles his nose and gives a pointed look. “This,” he says, gesturing his hands towards a messy Venom, “this is why I didn’t want to.”
“Aw, come on. I think it’s pretty cute,” you add, much to Eddie’s dismay. Venom licks your cheek appreciatively and you cringe at the greasy residue of the mayonnaise.
Eddie smirks and leans back in his chair with his arms crossed.
“Not so cute now, huh?”
“Shut up.”