Author's Note: I realize now this probably reads more like a drama of sorts instead of like, superhero/sci-fi fiction, and I hope that's okay! I have particular ideas with how I want this to go, so this is what we get. Also, I'm following up that realization with another, which is that this may actually be a short fanfic, considering my desperate attempt to keep spoilers out and the fact this is, like, based on a movie I don't have on hand for reference. Reducing spoilers may be a bit harder when the action hits, though, so consider ye warned.
It was almost two weeks since the incident in the alley before the neighbors ran into each other again. Metz was unlocking the door to their own apartment as Eddie was climbing up the stairs and both froze in their spots as the two locked eyes. "You look like shit," Metz said before they could stop themselves and they winced, quickly following that up. "I'm sorry. That was unnecessary. I just kind blurt out stuff sometimes? But, you look pretty rough," Metz said as they approached Eddie. "Are you sick?"
See? Even she can see we require proper sustenance!
"You, on the other hand, look great," he replied instead, ignoring the voice in his head. "I'm fine. Promise. Just a bit tired. You coming in from work?" he asked, veering the conversation to anything but his current state of being.
"Early for once," Metz said. "You want a bite to eat? I ordered some pizza. It should be coming in soon."
Say yes. She wants company, too.
Eddie looked uncertain for a second before nodding. He never could figure out how exact the symbiote's readings were, but for the most part it seemed to hit the nail on the end. And he wasn't exactly raring to spend another afternoon alone with his and Venom's thoughts. "Yeah. Okay." Metz smiled at this and turned to lead them to Metz's apartment. He realized his neighbor probably knew more about him than he knew about them, with the news constantly circulating his life due to the break through with Kasady. It would explain their complete openness to him, he assume. "So, what do you work in?"
Metz held open the door to the apartment, nodding for Eddie to go in first. "I'm a high school teacher. And when available, I pick up some shifts at a local restaurant. Usually I'm not home until way later, what with lesson plans and preparations for the next day, sometimes a shift at the restaurant, but today was an exception." Eddie looked around before heading to the designated living room while Metz locked the door, setting their bag on the dining table and removing their coat.
"What's that like?" Eddie asked as he plopped down. "Teaching?"
"Exhausting. But, rewarding, too. Kids nowadays are little shits, but they're good kids, given the chance," Metz said with a smile. "I would ask what you do, but the network gave it away. You have any new projects you're working on?"
Eddie shook his head as Metz headed to the fridge. "I'm still working on wrapping up the Kasady deal, but I needed a bit of a breather from it."
"It's a hard story to cover, I imagine. The detective work alone would've left me in a whirlwind. It must've taken a lot out of you."
If you had done any of the work.
"Shut up," Eddie hissed and Metz turned to him, a confused expression on their face. He looked up to find them staring and quickly shook their head. "No, that wasn't, that is, I have a really bad habit of saying things out loud, too? That wasn't directed at you, though. Just, other thoughts. The whole thing with Kasady just has me, uh, overwhelmed," he finished lamely.
Even with the paper thin explanation, Metz nodded as if they knew what he meant. "Beer?" they offered as they opened the fridge. Eddie's eyes quickly travelled over his neighbor, as if sight alone could discern their deepest secrets. It felt strange to be in their apartment, with Metz acting as if they'd been the best of friends for years. Then again, he had practically inserted himself into their life after the spectacle in the alleyway. That idea of wanting to be part of their life somehow had felt disconcerting to Eddie, but at least Metz didn't seem averse to his company. When he caught Metz's questioning eyes on him again, he gave a short nod as a response to the simple question.
"Thanks," he said as Metz handed him the beer and took a seat at the other end of the couch. "So, uh, how've you been?" he asked, earning a pained sound from the symbiote.
There was a twitch at the corner of Metz's mouth, but they lifted a shoulder in a shrug as they took a drink from their beer. "I can't complain. It's still far away, but I'm so looking forward to those Thanksgiving holidays. You have any plans for that?"
"The current plan is a microwavable dinner and whatever is on TV that day," he said.
You have an innate talent at painting yourself as a loser, Eddie.
He turned his face away from Metz to hide his wince and his eye caught sight of a notebook on the coffee table. He leaned forward without thinking, thumbing the cover. "What about you? You got plans with family, friends, boyfriend or something?"
"I don't have any family," Metz said in a casual tone and Eddie looked at Metz with surprise. They kicked off their heels and let out a relieved sigh, glancing down at their wiggling toes. "And I have no interest in a partner right now. I'll probably pick up a shift at the restaurant if I can. Holidays are always busy, good for tips, and I can't afford to say no to extra money right now." Eddie studied them carefully, his brows drawn together, and Metz glanced up to be caught in Eddie's serious gaze. "What, you're the only one allowed to be orphaned or something?"
This caused a laugh to escape Eddie, much to his own surprise. "I'm not fully orphaned, really," he said, picking up the notebook to distract himself as he leaned back onto the couch again. "My mom passed away giving birth to me. My dad hated me for it. Pretty sure he still does. He disowned me a long time ago. I don't even know if he's still alive."
"I'm sorry," Metz said, chewing on the inside of their cheek. Eddie shook his head and gave Metz a small smile. "You're a journalist. You can find out, about your dad," Metz pointed out.
"I don't want to," Eddie said, thumbing the spiral open. "It's better this way."
Metz hummed, taking the notebook from Eddie's hands. "These are private outlines and editing notes," they said, wagging the spiral. "If you want to try being a beta reader, you want to go with that." Their foot, covered by a stocking, nudged the binder on the coffee table. "My parents died when I was thirteen. Car accident. I lived with my godmother afterwards. She got dementia when I was thirty. She hung in there for three years before passing. It was a year after that when I realized I didn't have anything making me stay in that town anymore, so I moved here. It's been three months so far, and with how busy I am just trying to keep the lights on, it's a bit hard to make friends right now."
"I'm sorry for your losses." Metz shrugged at this and Eddie tried to veer the talk in a new direction, "Why California?"
"I blame movies," Metz said. "Always painting it as if the beaches were just around the corner and the living is easy. I've been to the beach once since I got here and it took like half the day. Are you a native?"
Eddie nodded as he leaned forward again to pick up the binder. "Born and raised. I lived in New York for a good chunk of years, though, before moving back. It was for the best. I think. Jury's still out on that one, really. But I can't imagine any other place being home, even if the cost of living is a crime on its own. Where're you from?"
"Texas. This small border town called Pharr. Well, tiny when compared to San Francisco," Metz amended, making to tuck their legs under them then reconsidering and standing instead. "You mind waiting while I change real quick? Money's on the dining table if the pizza gets here."
"Yeah, I got it," Eddie said as he flipped through the pages in the binder.
Metz bent over to hook their fingers into their heels and went to their bedroom, locking the door behind them.
Now is your chance!
"Are you insane?!" Eddie spat under his breath. "We do not go into women's bedrooms without their permission, you hear?"
But, why else would she speak of undressing around you?
"Because she just got off work, you moron! People like to be comfortable in their own home!"
Metz, meanwhile, traded out the scratchy, button shirt and trousers for a hoodie and sweatpants. They took the time to put the work clothes up in the closet, brushing at the fabric before heading to a desk they used as a vanity of sorts. They put their hair in a low ponytail, tucking shorter strands behind their ear before turning and sliding on slippers. Their hand hovered over the bedroom knob when they heard voices in the other room. Eddie's voice was soft but speaking quickly, angry. The voice that responded was familiar. Low and deep. They pressed their ear against the door as gently as possible to try to listen.
"It is time to move on!"
"What I do is none of your business," Eddie's voice came after.
"You cannot keep clinging to the past. It is unhealthy, Eddie."
"This conversation is over."
A chill ran down Metz' spine just as the room beyond fell silent, and then they shook their head. It was a tired brain playing tricks on them. Eddie mentioned talking to himself, so it was probably just that, Metz thought. Or he had received a call he didn't mean to put on speaker. That was a logical explanation. And lots of people had that type of voice. Their teeth found their bottom lip, chewing absentmindedly just for a pause. When they felt their composure return, they threw the door open and walked out to find Eddie engrossed with the binder. The pizza sat on the coffee table and Metz headed to the kitchen. "Another drink?" they asked Eddie as they opened the fridge.
"I'll take one, thanks," Eddie said, turning to another page. Metz glanced at him, trying to hide the way they studied their neighbor. His next comment caught them off guard, though. "Your writing's good."
"It certainly is not," Metz laughed slightly. It had to be the phone thing, of course. And there was no way they would bring it up now, especially considering what they heard. It sounded extremely personal and, frankly, painful for Eddie. Instead, they followed the current thread of conversation. "I've been working on that for like, five years. No lie. And I don't feel any closer to finishing it."
"You over think a lot, don't you?" Eddie looked up at Metz with a small smile.
"How did you know?"
Eddie took the beer as Metz joined him again on the couch. "Most writers do."
"Well, I had to have at least one flaw," they replied as they comfortably tucked their feet under them now. "The world would've already fallen at my feet otherwise."
Eddie chuckled and took a swig of his own drink before putting it down on the table. "I bet." Metz opened the pizza box, grabbing a slice and taking a hefty bite. "This looks dangerous," he asked as he eyed the heavy layers of jalapenos on the pizza while setting the binder on the table as well.
"Pain makes pleasure so much sweeter," Metz replied after swallowing their bite.
Ignore my previous encouragement, Eddie. She is obviously not in your league.
Eddie faltered a bit as he picked up his own slice, but Metz didn't seem to notice. He chanced a furtive look over at Metz and found them occupied with picking off jalapenos of the pizza slice but popping them into their mouth instead of discarding them. "You can pick off the jalapenos if you want and I'll take them," Metz said.
His response was to take a bite of the pizza, more as an act of defiance towards the symbiote, chewing for a moment before suddenly inhaling sharply.
Too hot! Too hot! Eddie, do something!
"Jesus Christ," he muttered between gasps and Metz laughed, delighted. "You can't be human. How can you even pretend this is food?" Eddie began picking out some of the jalapenos as he kept taking in short, sharp inhales, followed by small sips of beer. "Next time, I'm bringing the pizza."
To hear Eddie suggest another shared meal caused Metz to beam, but they remained silent on that topic. "So, Mr. Brock, has that rise to fame gone to your head yet? I keep hearing a breakthrough like that, especially with someone like that Kasady guy, can be a big boost in a person's career," Metz said before taking another bite of their slice, picking up a few of Eddie's discarded jalapeno pieces and popping them into their mouth.
At this, Eddie paused and took another bite of his own slice, settling back into the couch. "Kasady wants to see me before he's executed," he shared after.
"Oh. Yikes. That explains a lot," Metz exhaled, silently chastising themselves for bringing up a topic that was already hard for Eddie. They picked up their beer, looking at the liquid before taking a long drink. "Are you going?"
His shoulder rose slightly. "I don't think I have a choice, really. Not if there's more information I can get out of him. So many families got closure with my first visit, and if he wants to talk more, if there's any other little hint I can pull from him to help more families, then really, there's nothing else to do but to see him."
Metz watched their neighbor thoughtfully. "You're a good guy, Eddie."
"I'm not so sure about that," he replied, shifting in his seat. "This is more like… amends, I guess. Trying to make up for all the shitty things I've done."
"What things?" Metz asked before they were able to stop themselves.
He flinched at this and Metz hated themselves for being so naively good at picking at sore topics. "Just, in general, in life, really," he added before biting into his slice. He swallowed and took another drink of his beer, glancing over at Metz. "I don't know who you think I am, Metz, with what you hear on TV. But, I'm not a good guy. I'm just a guy."
We are good guys! How many times must I say this?!
Metz noticed him flinch again, gritting his teeth and turning his face away for a moment as if to hide it. "Anyway, this," he said, tapping the neck of the bottle to the binder's edge. "Can I borrow it? To actually read it?" At this question, Metz immediately shook their head, glad to veer away from their current conversation.
"Absolutely not. That does not leave my apartment."
"I thought you said I was a good guy," Eddie said, that crooked smile appearing on his lips. "I'm hurt now."
"That's not it at all," Metz replied, nudging their knee against Eddie's thigh. "That binder cannot be anywhere beyond these walls until it's done. Which means, it stays here. Where it's safe, and where no one can decide to share it or secretly publish it or submit it to publishers or agents or what have you."
"Seriously. You got to find a way to reel in that over thinking," Eddie said. "If the book won't come to Eddie, then Eddie will come to the book. If you're alright with that, of course," he added with a slight stutter and a blush hinting at his cheeks. "I was intrigued by the first couple of pages, and you did say I could try being a beta reader for it, so…"
Metz nudged his thigh again. "You're welcome any time, Eddie," they assured with a small smile. "You'd be the first beta reader of this book, you know. I haven't shown this to anyone else. Not completely, anyway."
"Why me then?" he asked with surprise.
"I don't know," Metz answered truthfully. "I guess it's those good guy vibes."
Eddie rolled his eyes then suddenly smiled. "Hey, why don't we see the city for Thanksgiving instead? Like a welcome tour for you. My treat, seeing how you fed me today."
"Alright," Metz said after a nod. "I'm warning you now, though. I'm not a cheap date, Eddie Brock."
WE HAVE A DATE!
Even with the symbiote's interjection, Eddie couldn't help but laugh, scratching at his neck and ducking his head to hide his features. "Well, you're in luck, then," he answered, looking over at Metz again and winking. Metz smiled wide at this. "I am, after all, a rising star."