Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You shuffled your bags into the apartment, setting them down on the coffee table. You looked to the door as your brother followed behind you, long hair tied up behind his head into a man bun.

“Home sweet home,” you smiled at him and he shrugged.

“it worked for me. well,  until-“ he looked towards the apartment across the hallway, panic crossing his face as he stared across the hallway, “you know,” You crossed to him and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you told him, “it’s okay, man. I get it,” you sent him a small smile, “It’s crazy what you saw,”

“I mean, I was higher than a kite when that happened,” your brother admitted, “but then those guys-,” he shook his head, “I never thought that my neighbour would be able to lay ‘em out that way.” he grabbed the last of your bags and tugged them inside, closing the door. You felt his eyes on you and you turned back to look at him, sighing.

“What?”

“Are you sure you wanna take this place off my hands? I know your job technically means you can handle stuff like this but-“

“Zig, I’ll be fine,” you soothed him with a smile. He crossed and pulled you into a hug.

“I love you, Spider,” he told you with a smile and you shook your head fondly, “I just worry,”

“Well, I’ll handle myself,” you told him, disregarding the nickname. Your parents had named him after Zigmund Marley, or Ziggy Stardust, and they’d decided to dub you Spider after the ‘spiders from mars’.

“Do you want me to help unpack?” he asked. He looked around expectantly and you shook your head.

“Nah, man. I got it. Go, I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind if you paid her a visit,” you told him and he laughed as you mentioned his girlfriend.

“All right, I see how it is. You want me gone, huh?” Ziggy punched your shoulder and you scrunched your nose at him, eyes narrowed playfully. He threw his hands up in surrender, “Just remember what I told you,”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep the electric guitar down. Lucky for me, I’m more of an acoustic person,” you practically ushered him out the door, eager to unpack and settle into your absurdly cheap and new apartment. He nodded, giving you a wave before taking the stairs by two. You closed the door behind him and then let out a sigh. Glancing around the room, your eyes landed on the drum set against the far wall, surrounded by your brother’s instruments. He’d snagged a place in a band as a bassist, and had sworn to you he didn’t need them anymore. You’d been more than happy to take him up on the offer. 

You took your suitcases to the abandoned bedroom, analysing what had been left for you. A king-sized bed, tack-hole and tape-damaged walls, and a sad-looking dresser that was probably older than you. You tossed your bags onto the floor and changed out of the clothes you’d worn on your plane flight to San Fransisco from your previous residence in New York. You pulled out a worn AC/DC tee and comfortable ripped jeans, almost sighing in relief when the water didn’t run brown in the shower. You were sure this was a nice apartment in comparison to the rest of the area seeing as it would’ve gone for thousands where you’d lived in D.C. a year or so ago. Still, it could use some work. It had belonged to your brother, whose lifestyle was a mix of Hippie and Punk Rock Roadie. So, house cleanliness wasn’t exactly his top priority. He’d told you, however, that he’d hired a cleaning service to clean the place before you’d moved in. That was a relief. 

Stepping out of the shower, you towelled yourself off and dressed, mind already set on the instruments sitting in the living room. It wasn’t long before you had the electric tuned and you were playing around with it, fingers flying across the fretboard as your playing became increasingly more focused and intricate. You moved from riffs you knew by heart from childhood to new ones, chord progressions and fingerpickings you’d never done before. You got into it and almost didn’t hear the pounding on the door over how loud you were being.

shit.

Chapter Text

Eddie typed at his laptop, eyes vacillating between notebook and screen constantly. His article, a piece on the long-running rivalry between Stark Industries and Oscorp. Venom was adding helpful commentary every now and again, pointing out certain grammatical errors or word choices. 

COMMA, NOT SEMICOLON, EDDIE.

“…thanks, bud,”

YOU ARE WELCOME. WE SHOULD GO GET SNACKS.

“V, we just ate,”

WE ARE HUNGRY.

"We're always hungry,"

I WANT TO EAT BAD GUYS

"Not right now"

I WANT TO ED- 

Eddie's mental visitor was cut off by the sound of someone absolutely shredding the fretboard of a guitar. Eddie could feel Venom shaking with unease under his skin, their shared displeasure almost palpable. He didn't need Venom to control his body as he shot up out of his chair, crossing the room quickly and throwing open the door. He stepped across the hallway and slammed his fist against the door, muttering about how he'd told his neighbour before. The door swung open and he opened his mouth to say something but swallowed his words when he locked eyes with the person on the other side. 

"Hey man, I'm sorry," they said sheepishly, brushing their hair from their face, "Zigs told me not to play loudly, but I kind of forgot," they locked eyes with him, face slightly flushed from the playing. Their eyes were narrowed, scrutinising him as if they'd seen him before. Eddie could speak. He knew he could. So why wasn't he? Venom broke him out of his trance, speaking up in his mind. 

THIS PERSON IS NEW. THIS IS NOT THE HIPPIE.

"You're-" Eddie grappled for words, "You're. Who are you exactly?"

"OH," they exclaimed, sticking their hand out, and telling him their name, “Everyone calls me Spider. I'm sorry I made such a shitty first impression,”

“Eddie,” Eddie took their hand and shook it. Their fingertips were calloused- most likely from practising the guitar to become a literal god. He offered them a crooked grin, “and don’t worry about the first impression, I’m the one who was banging on your door,”

“yeah, I was told to keep the electric down, but it’s a dope axe, man,” they explained, “Zig left me all his shit because he didn’t want to bring it with him,”

“you’re really great,” Eddie complimented, “at, you know the guitar,”

SMOOTH

Shut up.

“oh, thanks. I- uh. I feel like I should apologise. Can I invite you over for dinner?”

“You don’t have to,“ Eddie defended but they cut him off with a wave of their hand and a smirk.

“Please, dude, I insist. Although I don’t know what my fridge looks like,” they glanced towards the inside of their apartment, “Probably just tater tots and some random stuff,”

“If you want, I can show you the best grocery store in the area. It’s sort of a convenience store, but it’s got everything you need,” 

“Really? that would be great,” They smiled, “Just give me like five minutes,” They turned back inside and closed the door behind them. Eddie returned to his apartment as well, quickly entering the bathroom to reapply deodorant and chew some toothpaste.

YOU DO NOT EAT TOOTH SOAP, EDDIE.

“I don’t have time to brush my teeth.”

THEN WHY DID YOU EAT THE TOOTH SOAP.

“It’s toothpaste, V, and I wouldn't like my breath to smell bad when I see them.”

YOU ARE TRYING TO IMPRESS THEM? EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE LOUD.

“You’re loud.”

I AM A GOOD LOUD.

“Guitars are a good loud when played correctly.” He replied, returning to the living room to pull on his leather jacket, “do you remember the music I showed you?”

YES! THE PEBBLE MUSIC

“...yes,” Eddie said, putting in his earbuds before leaving as was habit. He got fewer looks when people assumed he was on the phone.

I LIKE THE BROKEN BOY.

“The what?” Eddie hissed quietly as they left the apartment, trying to discern what his-erm- roommate was referring to.

THE BROKEN BOY. BENJAMIN.

“Breaking Benjamin??” Eddie asked as the door opened. His neighbour stepped out gave him a quizzical look.

“What about them?”

“Oh- erm,” Eddie scrambled for a reply, “Phone call, from my old roommate. They were asking me something,”

“Ah, okay,”

“Give me like ten seconds, I’ll get off of the phone,” Eddie gave them an awkward grin and stepped back into his apartment. As if on cue, Venom curled around his front to see him, an indelible grin plastered across his face.

“You gotta be quiet for this, okay bud?” Eddie explained gently, trying to send as many pleading emotions Venom’s way.

“EDDIE.” the symbiote attempted to interrupt.

“No, just listen to me for a minute. No surprise entrances,”

“EDDIE.” Venom repeated again, rippling slightly.

“No demanding food,” Eddie continued, holding a hand up in an effort to silence him.

“EDDIE.” The symbiote shook slightly as if feeding off of the growing agitation radiation off his host.

“No making me do things I don’t want to-,“

“EDDIE!!” The symbiote demanded and his host clenched his fists slightly, letting out a huff of irritation. 

“What?” He asked sharply.

“I AM SORRY FOR EMBARRASSING YOU IN FRONT OF THE HUMAN.”

“…thank you,” he said awkwardly, “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“EDDIE. THEY ARE PERFECT.”

“I’m sorry- They- what?” Eddie was well aware of the shared emotions they had, but he couldn’t see how Venom could feel something so strongly when all Eddie felt was a simple attraction.

“THEY ARE GENETICALLY COMPATIBLE. IT WOULD BE WISE TO BEFRIEND THEM.” Venom’s grin managed to expand impossibly wider.

“Like Anne?” Eddie asked and after a thoughtful pause, Venom replied.

“SIMILAR, YES. THEY WOULD BE A GOOD MATE.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah, easy there buddy,” Eddie explained, “You can’t just assume someone is a good mate based on their genetic makeup. First of all, how’d you know it?”

“SKIN CELLS ARE DUST, EDDIE,”

“Okay, we’re putting a pin in that extremely disturbing discussion. We are not mating anyone. We are helping out our neighbour,”

“WHOM YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON”

“Whom I have a- how do you know what a crush is??”

“I SEE THEM IN THE TELEVISION”

“I’m shutting off cable.”

“NO!”