Black Sustenance
by Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: Surprise surprise, I don't own Spider-man.
Author Notes: Basically just did this as a last-minute decision to enter a Spider-man slash contest. I didn't think I'd have enough time to do fanart, so I did this...and then I find out there was an extension to the contest. Oops. Lame title. xP No it's not canon. Decided to do more. Basically it's mostly Ultimate Spider-man universe except Venom's origins are the symbiote and the shuttle crash. Again, plot first, pairings next. :o

Italics for thoughts/emphasis/symbiote
Archive: Sure, just ask.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
Black Sustenance

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

(Imprinting)

"Crap. Yet even more crap!" one black and white photo went sliding across the desk, followed by another. "Honestly, do you have anything not with the word 'crap' written all over it?"

Across the desk, Peter Parker sighed, "Sir, that's all I have. You wanted Spider-man, I got him for you."

"Yeah, but there's nothing dynamic about these! I can't have the same pictures with my headlines, Parker. You understand what that'd do to us? We'd lose readers up the ying yang if they thought they were buying the same paper they bought last week!"

They do practically buy the same paper. But Peter was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He needed this job, especially since in a few years he'd have to start looking at colleges. ESU would be his ideal choice. Best to start preparing early. But that didn't mean he had to like this. It wasn't very consistent, as jobs went and with a man as volatile as J. Jonah Jameson as his boss, that meant he wasn't sure if he'd get fired or not on a whim, only to be un-fired the next day. And to top all this off, I have to play Photo Whore just to keep a job where I get trashed every day by this man.

The world was beyond unfair, Peter decided once again. But then again, what else was new?

"Parker!"

Peter jumped and managed to look sheepish.

"Honest to God, I'm ranting!"

"I can see that, sir."

"…Jesus Christ, kids these days! They never listen! Think they have the brains to run the damn place," Jameson grumbled. The older man leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. The editor shot a fierce glower at the teenager across the desk. Satisfied that he'd properly cowed the young photographer, Jameson picked up one of the photos, "Crappy or not, we'll run these anyway."

Peter perked up at this.

"But just this time. I want real photos next time. Moneymakers. Get my drift?"

Peter nodded and started to get up from his chair. Today's tirade had been surprisingly mild, especially considering how Jameson had been only three months ago. Back then he'd been totally spazzing, lashing out at any and all whoever even so much as met his eyes. But that made sense, considering the fact that his own son had almost died in that shuttle crash.

"I'll try harder," Peter pulled on his jacket and started for the door. Guess I can't expect a thanks for that whole shuttle thing. But Peter really didn't want to remember that night and the weeks that followed…

"Remember, I want something with Spider-man. And while we're at it, that Venom-character."

Peter started at this and shot a look at Jameson. Does he-? No, of course he doesn't. This's just about the paper. He doesn't know anything about what caused the crash. Backing out of the office, Peter made a face as soon as he was out of his employer's sight. As he picked up his pay for the photos, he waved absently to the others in the office before stepping into the elevator. It glided toward the lobby.

Peter bit his lip. Why'd Jameson have to bring up Venom? A shudder ran quietly up the length of the brunette's back. He still had nightmares about that whole ideal, no matter how many times he tried to just block it off by hanging around with Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane Watson. Even when Mary Jane tried to ask about it, Peter brushed her off. It was great and all that she knew his secret – that he could talk more freely with her than he could with anyone else – but he still had to draw the line somewhere.

Something things were just better off remaining unsaid.

I wonder if Venom's still out there. Three months and there hadn't been any sightings. Peter supposed by now that he should just get back to his life. But it wasn't hard to remember how he'd done so many stupid things to Eddie Brock before…the whole Venom thing. Peter raised his eyes heaven-ward. I shouldn't have tried to step in and take his job like that. I mean, I'm a kid. That was his fault – for trying to out-shine an already seasoned reporter.

But the actual creation of Venom…how could Peter have known that Eddie was close by when he'd managed to ditch the symbiote? That Eddie must've seen the whole thing, found the symbiote when Peter removed it. I couldn't have known. But Peter could have been more careful, one side of him chided. He should've known…

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

(Three months ago)

I almost killed him.

Oh god. I really almost killed him. I-I…can't think.

Spider-man stumbled down the alley. An old discarded beer can crunched under his feet as he leaned heavily against the wall. His whole body ached and a moan escaped past his lips as he slid down until he was lying on his side. It smelled horrible – he'd the brains to collapse right next to a dumpster – but he couldn't summon up the strength to move. The costume didn't want him to move anyway; he should just sleep and let those voices he'd been hearing take over. Let the symbiote watch over for the both of them until they were ready to move on.

But Spider-man couldn't sleep. Not when only a few minutes earlier, he'd nearly strangled a man to death. Who knew if the murderer he'd apprehended from that house managed to get to a hospital. If anything, the man could be dead now. But Spider-man hadn't been able to control himself when he'd seen Uncle Ben's death played out all over again, this time with complete strangers, and the costume had somehow amplified his rage until he'd been able to come to his senses the last second and drop the beaten man.

After that, Spider-man had fled blindly. He didn't even know where he was now, only that the smell of piss, puke and even worse things were right in his face and he couldn't even crawl away from the god-awful stench. And that wasn't even the worse of his problems.

Pain assaulted him from all sides and he curled up into a ball. His fingers clutched at the black material covering his body, but the costume snapped back without any marks. It felt like his skin was peeling away, melting (fusing?) to the symbiote.

Spider-man couldn't do this. He had to get away.

He was aware of the symbiote trying to send calming waves through the still forming bond. Realizing what the costume was trying to do it, Spider-man frantically summoned enough strength to claw at the smooth ebony costume on his chest, his arms, whatever he could reach. The alien material stretched and he couldn't suppress the cry of pain when his skin screamed in agony in response.

Don't do this. It makes our union that much more difficult.

It took Spider-man a long second to realize that this wasn't his own thought, but the symbiote itself talking. Panting as waves of fire still flared up from where he'd tried to remove the costume, he managed to lever himself up onto his elbows and drag himself away further into the darkness. If he wasn't going to be sick from the putrid scent of trash and human waste, it was going to be from the pain alone. Soon he completely forgot about the man he'd nearly killed minutes before as the pain continued to increase.

Stop! I don't want this!

The symbiote tried again to calm him, but Spider-man continued to reject it. You don't know what you want, Peter.

I don't want you

Spider-man tried to get to his feet but fell to his knees immediately. He'd never been in this much danger before; not when he'd tried to take on the Kingpin, not even when he'd been shot by the cops after that whole imposter-Spider-man incident that left Gwen without her father and abandoned by her mother. Pain everywhere. Hundreds of little fangs digging into his body. He was being eaten alive and his damned spider-sense wasn't even going off.

Spider-man had to end this. The symbiote was trying to coerce him like it almost had when he'd gone out of control. He knew what it was thinking just as it knew even now what he was considering doing to free himself. Could he do it? Just something simple, like throwing them both into the Hudson and drown the two of them?

He thought about this and in his pain-muddled mind, he knew he couldn't. Not when there was still a chance to be free of this mistake clinging to his body, this alien trying to conquer him. Not when he still had MJ. Aunt May. Gwen. His whole life still out there, interrupted by this stupid costume that was going to kill him at the rate the pain was escalating. I've… got to find a way to get it off me. After that he could contain it, dump it somewhere where it could be incinerated. Be free of it and lead his already unnatural life as normally as he could.

But did he really want to do that? The symbiote made him better, faster. More superior to the normal humans than he already was. The pain would go away, like all the other times he'd been hurt. This was a good kind of pain. It wasn't so terrible…

The realization that this was yet another invasion of his thoughts, that the symbiote again had tried to suggest that those were actually his thoughts, was like a dash of cold water. Clenching his teeth together, Spider-man crawled forward one foot. Two feet. Three. Four, and more and more until he was at the end of the ally. How could he do this? His head spun drunkenly and he almost passed out right there and then as his vision faded in and out.

I can't do this.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Spider-man hissed. He wasn't even aware he'd spoke aloud. "You're not me!"

How do you know I'm not? How can you argue with yourself?

"Because you're doing it! Leave me alone!" somehow Spider-man had summoned the strength to get to his feet during this exchange. They trembled but didn't spill out from under him this time. He didn't think he'd be able to get up again if they did. One foot in front of the other. He had to find some way to dislodge the costume before he lost the will-power to do so.

Step by step. Soon he reached the cone of light from a street-lamp.

The pain increased in response. If Spider-man could be violently sick, he would be heaving right into his costume right now. But he couldn't – whether it was because he hadn't eaten or because the symbiote wouldn't let him was anyone's guess. In the pained haze he was wandering through, he almost found the latter funny. How hygienic. The stupid thing didn't want him barfing into its face. Or wherever its stupid face was assuming it even had one.

Spider-man found himself staring in a daze up at the midnight sky. He tried to focus, forget how the pain invading his body was starting to level out into a pleasant numbness. The lack of feeling had to be worse than the preceding pain. It meant that the costume had bonded even more to his body. Maybe permanently.

And for some reason, all he could think about was that Aunt May was going to wig out at him for being out this late. He'd be grounded for life. And then some, if he was lucky.

Spider-man's vision blurred. Dammit, he wasn't going to pass out right here in the open like an idiot. Not before he ditched the symbiote and put miles between him and it. Then, as soon as he was far away from it, he could pass out wherever he felt like. I have to force it off. Sound waves wouldn't affect the symbiote – that criminal with those hand weapons tried that earlier and it'd just tingled then. But a big energy surge…Spider-man knew that the symbiote had been careful to keep him from contacting electricity…

The only thing close that Spider-man could reach in his condition was the power-lines. Could he even take that amount of electricity? Super-powered or not, he wasn't invincible. I…can I? What was he even thinking about again? He couldn't remember through the fog as he sagged listlessly to the side under the lamp light. Something important. Something really, really important…

But somehow he felt relaxed. Drifting away.

Drifting toward becoming one.

One? …Wait.

Oh shit.

Spider-man shook himself through the fog dulling his senses. He had to do this. Forcing his limbs to move and tearing control from the Other's fake-thoughts, from the black costume trying to assume command, he started climbing up the nearest telephone pole. The power-lines had to have a transformer. Something. Anything that would hopefully knock this alien flat on its ass. Probably him too, but he was hoping the symbiote would take the brunt of it.

That was the general idea, at least. Either way, he had to try.

Spider-man reached the top of the telephone pole after what felt like an eternity of climbing. He almost fell off once – the symbiote tried to dislodge him by making the fingers of the costume frictionless but he only clung onto the wooden surface with a feverish death-grip. Cursing the alien costume out mentally, swearing up and down that he'd fall off and break his neck on purpose, see if that did either of them any good, he made to the top without any further problems.

By then, it was starting to rain. Thank God. That meant that he'd conduct the electricity a lot better – no worries about the voltage being too weak now. Reaching out and breaking the transformer's protective casing, Spider-man was surprised to see that his hands were shaking. But that made sense considering how messed up he felt right now.

…Here goes.

The costume was deathly silent. Spider-man could feel the anger coursing through the jet-black symbiote.

Spider-man punched into the transformer. He stiffened as electricity ran into him with a powerful jolt. Even through the costume, he could feel the electricity running in a current through his exposed frame. All around him, the symbiote was roiling, a black mass of inky tendrils and fangs. He couldn't tell if it was him or the symbiote making that horrible screaming sound. Something was starting to smoke in the rain and he sincerely hoped that the sizzling sound wasn't coming from him but the alien..

There was a particularly powerful surge of energy and suddenly Spider-man was sailing out into the damp night. All around him, he could see the symbiote pulling apart from his body in inky blobs, black streamers that twisted and convulsed with a life of their own.

The ground came up quickly and Peter hit it hard. Stars burst in his vision. All around him, the symbiote splattered onto the sidewalk like black rain. Winded, the brunette tried to get to his feet, but he couldn't do more than crawl away as fast as his battered body would allow him. He'd crawled several yards away before finally collapsing in exhaustion. Raising his head, long bangs plastered against his forehead by the rain, he eyed the puddles of black ooze lying under the damaged telephone pole.

Was it over?

The symbiote wasn't moving. Was it dead?

Maybe I killed it. It was bubbling a little bit, but it wasn't trying to get him. So he either killed it. Or at least stunned it. His mind was quickly starting to clear from the haze induced by the contact with the alien costume. His entire body ached, not just from wearing the costume, but from the contact with the transformer. His limbs weren't quite reacting like he wanted them to. Every now and then they gave a little convulsing twitch. Hopefully that would go away. He'd have a hard time explaining to Aunt May why he'd suddenly developed a nervous reaction like that.

Minutes passed before Peter tried to get to his feet. Using the wall for support and realizing he was far more cold than he should be, he looked down. A stupefied pause. Peter wasn't wearing a scrap of clothing; the stupid symbiote not only tried to possess him (or whatever it was doing), it'd apparently eaten up his original Spider-man costume. As if it couldn't have done anything else wrong, the freaky thing just had to go and do that.

That's just pure evil, Peter scowled. MJ's going to wonder why this keeps happening to me…

Not only that, but he was missing his web-shooters. Wonderful. Those things were expensive…but at least he was alive and that was better than where he could've been.

The black ooze puddles still hadn't moved since last time. It was bad enough that he was butt-naked – in a bad neighborhood, no less – but the fact remained that disposing of the black costume was his first priority. He needed a container that had a good seal on it. Staggering over to the dumpster he'd seen earlier, he rummaged around for a container. Peter gagged at the interesting array of smells from the dumpster, but managed to keep from getting gloriously sick.

The sixteen year-old returned with a small soda bottle. It wasn't that strong – just a plastic green one, the wrapping torn partially off – but it still had the cap. He didn't expect it to hold the remnants of the alien costume that long, just long enough for him to get plenty of distance away from it.

Peter approached the black ooze cautiously, bare feet padding silently on the side-walk. No reaction, just the quiet bubbling from the thick puddles glistening in the lamp-light. He knelt down.

"You're more trouble than you're worth," Peter said quietly. He wished it was possible to give the symbiote a good stabbing, but he had the feeling that stabbing it would be just as successful as trying to stab jelly.

Careful to not let any of it touch him, Peter spent a few minutes scooping up the ooze with the bottle cap and pouring it into the soda bottle. Once it was full and he didn't see any signs of the alien substance around the area, he capped the bottle. Inside it, the thick liquid continued to bubble innocently.

So now what?

He hadn't thought about it. His first idea had been to throw it into the ocean, but he was miles away from that. He didn't think he'd have the energy to get over there anyway, especially not without his web-shooters. Peter sighed, staring hard at the bottle. Definitely more trouble than this was all worth. There was no way he was going to bring it back home with him to toss out later. Not if there was a danger of it coming into contact with him again. It was too dangerous for his friends and family. Peter glanced around. There wasn't a lot of options. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Peter sighed. This was probably stupid, but…it won't be my problem. It's too dangerous if it's with me. Besides, it's probably dead. Returning to the dumpster, he tossed the sealed bottle in. The garbage trucks would come by in the morning and dump it in a landfill far away from here. The symbiote, if it was even alive, wouldn't have anything to feed on in such a place. It would be out of his hands and no one would get hurt.

It had been stupid for him to hope that things would work out. Peter limped back home, thinking things would right themselves after all that had happened. He limped back thinking the symbiote would be out of his life for good.

It never even left New York; like everything, he found that out the hard way.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

(Three months later)

"You're never going to tell me how you really lost the last costume, are you?"

Peter rolled the lollipop around in his mouth as he lounged in the armchair and watched Mary Jane. The red-head was working on his new Spider-man costume, fixing a particularly big tear he didn't remember getting from the last fight he had. The sewing machine hummed quietly as he pretended to be suddenly interested in the ceiling of his aunt's basement.

"I already told you, MJ: one of my fans took it. Said she was going to never wash it and hang it up on her wall," Peter said, speaking around the lollipop. "I bet she's going to sell it for a crapload of money. Money I'll never see since I'm destined to be dirt-poor because of fangirls."

His best friend only laughed. "Come on, Peter. You're just making stuff up now."

"Okay, I lied; fanboys."

Still bent over the sewing machine, Mary Jane rolled her eyes, "I'm going to keep bugging you until you tell me. I mean, I'd like to know how you lose one of my replacements I made just like that. And where you got that weird black one I saw on the news that night."

"…I just found that. It cramped my style, so I ditched it," Peter said off-handedly.

"Right. And that explains why you arrive at my house practically naked how?"

"Hey, you weren't complaining about that."

"So?"

"Voyeur."

"What the hell?" Mary Jane laughed, the sounds of the sewing machine stopping for a second as she shot a grin at him.

"I see what you're up to, peeping tom."

"Peter, peeping tom? Since when did I start switching genders?"

"Those, MJ, are minor technicalities. Besides, you ask yourself that. You're the peeping tom, not me."

Mary Jane waved the finished Spider-man mask at Peter. "I think you're forgetting one important thing and that's that I'm the only one who can repair these things. I keep you clothed so you don't run around in whatever you pulled out of the closet."

"What if I like what I pull out of the closet?" Peter asked, grinning as he caught the mask MJ threw at him. "I like to think I look dashing."

"Dashing? Uh huh, sure. Right. Just remember to be nice to me since I make sure that you don't run around naked."

"Like last time."

"Like last time," Mary Jane agreed solemnly.

Peter was just as serious. "Like last time when you were totally sneaking peeps at me."

"I was not!" Mary Jane looked for something else to throw at him. Peter ducked the roll of red thread as it came sailing at him and bounced off the armrest. It rolled under the chair he was sitting in. Mary Jane pointed imperiously. "Go get that."

"Why? You threw it."

Mary Jane shook the entire tray filled with thread rolls at him threateningly and Peter scurried after the thread she'd thrown at him. Reaching under the chair, he felt about for the floor for a second before his hands closed around the plastic. He turned and knelt before Mary Jane, holding it out in his hands with his head bowed in mock obedience.

"Here, Your Majesty. A token of my love," Peter said, offering the red thread.

Mary Jane took it back. "Good boy; you're forgiven," she said and patted his head.

"Now why do I suddenly feel like a dog?"

The red-head smiled, but her reply was cut off by the sounds of footsteps on the basement stairs. She hurriedly pulled the costume off the sewing machine and stuffed it under the desk she was working on, kicking the small backpack she'd brought with her over it. Peter leapt up and threw the Spider-man mask he'd been holding into a drawer near Mary Jane's leg. He closed it quickly; cursed quietly as he realized he'd closed the drawer right on top of the mask, shoved it further inside, and closed it again.

There was a knock and the door opened at the same time. Peter froze from where he knelt near Mary Jane. A tall blond teenager stepped into the basement room, a small load of laundry in her arms. The young woman stopped, raising an eyebrow at the scene: Mary Jane was sitting with her back to the desk, Peter kneeling down at her feet, both frozen as if caught red-handed in something.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Gwen asked. "Don't tell me you're 'studying'."

Peter quickly shot to his feet, face flushing slightly red. He knew Gwen's strange little innuedos. "We're not! Really! It's not –"

"-what it looks like," Mary Jane finished.

Gwen snorted, setting down her laundry on the washing machine a few feet from the desk. She began loading her clothing into it. Peter glanced at the sewing machine. The needle was still threaded with red, blue and black, but nothing too incriminating. Still, Gwen was too close to the hidden costume. She had only to happen to look over between the rather generous space between the wall and the desk, and she'd catch a glimpse of the Spider-man costume. Exchanging glances with Mary Jane, Peter popped to his feet.

"Hey, um, let's do something today, Gwen!"

Gwen began measuring out detergent. "Like what?"

"Well, we could go see a movie," Mary Jane said quickly. "Let's go after this. We haven't done anything together in a long time."

Gwen thought about this and shrugged. "Sure. Just as soon as I finish my laundry."

The darkly-clad blond paused, her array of bracelets jangling as she thought of something. She turned and stared at Mary Jane and Peter – they were tensed, looking at her expectantly. Just what were they waiting fo – oh. That. They weren't finished with their "studying", Gwen smirked, especially since she'd apparently interrupted something. It was almost cute how they tried to pretend they weren't up to something whenever she was around. And for that reason, Gwen decided to tease them:

"Pete, let's make this a date."

Peter stared, wide-eyed. "A date? As in date-date? As in we'll-eventually-suck-each-other's-faces-off date?"

"Sure. Why not? If you can 'study', you've got time for a date with little me," Gwen grinned, leaning with exaggerated care on the washing machine. She was an extremely pretty girl, if a bit on the tall side, and she knew it. Even crazy over Mary Jane, Peter couldn't help but ogle. The red-head in question was looking ready to give her best friend a nice kick in the shins.

"Hey, hey, no need to get jealous, MJ," Gwen said before that could happen. She winked to show she was only fooling around; they had to both know that she respected them too much to try to break them apart. "There's plenty of Gwen to go around for everyone!"

"Good God. She's pimping herself out now," Peter muttered to Mary Jane.

"Getting too big for her britches," Mary Jane muttered back.

Gwen planted her hands on her hips and pretended to look offended. "What's this I hear? Is that the sound of my underlings trying to rebel?"

"Definitely too big for her britches," Peter agreed.

"Hey, I can manage the both of you. So long as you agree to be good children and share me."

"And what's this about underlings?" Mary Jane asked.

"After all, even I can't do anything if you all fight over me. Although that would be one helluva cat-fight, but that's besides the point…"

"She's delusional," Peter said.

"I'd say."

Gwen sniffed and gathered her empty hamper after dumping the detergent bottle inside. "You obviously can't appreciate me and my many fine points yet. But the date's still open to both of you."

"We're honored," Mary Jane said wryly. "I think."

Gwen started for the stairs. "Anyway, I don't care what we do – so long as we get out of the house."

Gwen's footsteps retreated back up to the first floor before Peter dared to relax. Bantering with Gwen was one thing, but doing it in such a situation wasn't something he really cared for. Next to him, Mary Jane sighed and looked over at the door. It was closed again and since sound didn't carry too well in the basement, it was probably safe to talk again. Peter still had a slightly dazed look on his face, the lollipop forgotten in his mouth. Mary Jane grimaced; she'd grown to really like Gwen after getting used to the unpredictable girl, but honestly, she wished Peter wouldn't act so floored by her every time the blond pretended to hit on him.

Which, as it was, happened to be a lot.

"Okay, back to business," Mary Jane said finally. She had to prod Peter with her foot to get his attention.

"Uh…yeah, sorry," Peter ducked his head sheepishly. "…Okay, why can't we do this at your house again?"

"Because my mom would freak out. I mean, she lightened up a lot after kicking my dad out, but…" Mary Jane shook her head, red curls bouncing. "We just need to be more careful next time."

"Yeah," Peter said. He pulled out his red mask from the drawer, running fingers over the black webbing. "Thanks for doing this."

"I seriously should teach you how to sew sometime – like, what if I'm not there to make these kinds of repairs and your costume splits or you moon all of New York or something?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sewing machines hate me. I mean, I tried touching one before. I swear to God it tried to eat my hand."

"Traumatized for life?" Mary Jane laughed. "And here I thought it took a lot more than that…"

There was an awkward silence at this.

Mary Jane remembered all too well some of her traumatizing experiences: her situation with her family and the things that had started happened after Peter had shown her his secret. Foremost were the memories of being tossed off a bridge by the Green Goblin; if Peter hadn't caught her at the last minute, she would've broken her neck from the impact of the water. Second was when she'd found Peter one night lying in a dumpster, shot by the police, and bleeding all over. I shouldn't be able to take this. But somehow she did manage to stick by Peter; it wasn't that easy, worrying about him whenever he ran off to do his self-appointed job and wondering if that was the last time she'd ever see him.

Peter himself had too many memories like that, ones he wanted to just avoid thinking about right now. Forcing a sunny smile on his face, the brunette bent over Mary Jane's sewing machine, pretending to examine it.

"Well, I guess I could try to learn how to sew," Peter said dubiously. "But if you have to rescue me, I want you to know it's your idea to feed me to this thing."

Mary Jane pulled out the rest of the costume with a patient smile. "Don't worry, Peter. I'll be there to save you."

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Eddie Brock glanced up at the sky. It was starting to get chilly, a brisk breeze rattling the drying leaves lining the small side-street and sending the fallen leaves tumbling along merrily. The sun was overhead, meaning it was going to be a nice and cool Saturday afternoon. That pleased both him and his Other; the symbiote disliked heat, especially extreme temperatures. And because they were bonded so nicely, that meant that Eddie didn't care for hot summer days either. They'd suffered in silence back a few months ago, but things had changed for the better since then.

Eddie hadn't bothered to get dressed when they'd left the abandoned apartment a week ago. As always, the symbiote proved its infinite usefulness as it did over and over again by forming his clothing for him. To all appearances, he wore black jeans and a simple black jacket over a clinging turtleneck of the same color; a material that seemed to catch the light and swallow it. It was surprisingly quite comfortable to wear. And nice and cold too.

We must think this through. Plan carefully. Can't kill our prey.

Naturally Eddie knew where Peter Parker lived; the boy's memories were imprinted on the symbiote after all. Back when Venom had just been born, he would've just charged in headlong, ripped apart the little Queens' house and dragged the young Spider out after slaughtering all the other inhabitants. But three months and then some had given Eddie and the symbiote plenty of time to mature.

Violence, while often a good answer to most problems, wouldn't work here. At least not immediately.

We're too strong now. If we act like a youngling, we won't become one with our Spider.

"Exactly."

Hence why they were holding back. Glad to see their trains of thought were so identical.

"We'll watch the house," Eddie said aloud. He stood under the shadow of a tree across the street from the Parker residence, watching the modest two-story dwelling with narrowed eyes. No movement so far. But people were in there.

Re-union. Our Spider... The symbiote's growing excitement was contagious and Eddie found himself starting to smile in anticipation: they both could detect Peter's special presence even from here, although it was faint at this distance.

It wouldn't be long. They could afford to wait a week, a month at worst.

Eddie knew that being so close to the Spider made him need servicing right now but he suffered through it. The symbiote couldn't do that out in public. He'd just have to wait until they finished for today. Still, it made him tense and while he was delighted to be so close to Parker, he was also starting to get cranky. Leave the house, Spider, he hissed mentally. Just go out on one of your little patrols so we can have a nice little talk. Or at least so we can see your face again.

But there was still no movement from the Parker house.

The shadows cast by the trees had moved a few feet over before there was activity worth noting. Jolted by this from his latest fantasy regarding Peter, restraints and using electricity on the Spider (see how he liked that), Eddie looked up. The front door of the Parker house had opened. Eddie turned and leaned nonchalantly against the tree, casting his gaze sidelong to watch the house. The Spider couldn't catch them on that little spider-sense of his, and if he were to glance over in Eddie's direction, it would only appear that a stranger was waiting for someone from another house.

Eddie watched as two girls left the Parker home. One was tall, bright blond hair spilling past her shoulders. Bracelets of metal and plastic covered her wrists, and she was casually slinging a studded leather jacket over her shoulder as she pretended to tap her black booted feet waiting for her companions. The second girl was familiar – Eddie knew her well from the symbiote's memories.

Mary Jane.

One of the people that the Spider had thought about constantly. Her fiery hair was shorter than they remembered, but they recognized very well her movements, her appearance. Even if Mary Jane had pulled the hood of her forest-green sweater over her head before she'd stepped into view, Eddie would have still known who she was. He knew that while he hadn't anything against her, she was still a threat to their goal. And the symbiote itself didn't care for her, seeing as she was one of the reasons the Spider had fought free of the first attempt at bonding.

But neither the strange blond nor Mary Jane were worth more than a cursory glance right now.

The real prize was when Peter Parker left the house, trotting down short steps to join his friends. Heat boiled up all over Eddie's body and he had to stop from fully morphing into Venom and taking the Spider for himself right now. The Spider he always envisioned in his head couldn't compare to the real thing.

All ours. All ours, the symbiote whispered.

"All ours," Eddie agreed softly, watching their prey as if arrested. "He belongs to us."

Peter looked a bit older than the last time they'd met – whatever had happened in those three months since then had changed him. He'd…matured. They could tell that just by the way he moved. His appearances were overall the same as they remembered, had obsessed over for all this time: shortly-cut coffee-brown bangs framed an expressive face already growing lines of weariness. Peter'd just thrown on a black shirt over a long-sleeved blue one, but that didn't quite conceal the lean muscles of the Spider.

How old was Peter anyway? Oh yes. Not seventeen, since his birthday wasn't for a while. Still sixteen then.

Still but a child in Eddie's eyes. Still but a youngling in the symbiote's.

Not that age matters. They both wanted the Spider and they would get what they wanted.

Eddie watched as Peter talked for a few minutes with his friends. The boy listened to something the tall blond girl said and then laughed with Mary Jane about it. Eddie found that his teeth were grinding together in sheer frustration. They were mocking him, daring him to make a move. But that's what they wanted, wasn't it? For him to blindly rush forward in their lust. No. We're smarter than that now. We know better.

Right now the Spider wasn't ready for their union. He had too many things to fight for, too many things that would make him too strong, his will too powerful. If he rejected them again, there wouldn't be any more chances, not if their prey had fought as desperately as before.

We can't back him into that corner yet. Peter Parker would just fight tooth and nail if they just pursued him right now; that would be very…unpleasant. Not just for Spider-man, but for all parties concerned. And as powerful as they were as Venom, they had no desire to make it more difficult than it had to be. After all, that wasn't productive. It'd just waste their energy. It was hardly efficient to operate like that when patience would pay off more than the waste.

There was still plenty of time.

…no need for us to rush just yet…

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Peter blinked as Mary Jane and Gwen calculated how much money they'd have to spend for the movies and dinner. He could've sworn someone was watching him. Funny. Is my spider-sense going wonky? It shouldn't; normally it was fairly accurate. It'd saved his life – and the lives of others – plenty of times. No reason to start doubting it. The brunette glanced about, eyebrows knit together in concentration. There wasn't anyone he could see on the street except for a dark shadow of man a few houses away and he was just -

" – so that's fine with you, Peter?"

Peter turned toward Gwen, puzzled. "What?"

"Twenty dollars per person for the movie and dinner. How's that sound?"

"Oh. Um…yeah, sounds fine," Peter said quickly. He glanced back to where he'd seen the man.

The man was gone. But the growing unease remained…


To be continued
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

I prefer Venom's symbiote "shuttle" origins instead of the Ultimate Spider-man origins or the whole Secret Wars deal, so I'm trying to blend that in with the rest of Ultimate Spider-man, which I'm trying to keep relatively true to up to this point. : Mostly since I love how they portray the characters (Peter, Gwen, MJ, etc...although seeing Conners as a drunk was sorta sad since I have fond memories of him from the 90's cartoon as being the loveable scientist who...like...didn't drink? ;P)

Anyway, I know this part wasn't uber-slashy...or even meriting the R rating. But when I write, I don't write mindless sex or anything; plot always comes first for me. ;

If you want to contact me or ask questions, my e-mail is and my AIM SN is Famira Damaris. Thanks for reading.