A/N: Inspired by Sony apparently saying they were considering making Andrew Garfield's Spiderman get Tom Hardy's Venom symbiote, and then have another crossover event with Tom Holland's and Tobey Maguire's Peters. Also inspired by Andrew Garfield's amazing (pun intended) performance in No Way Home- he was always my favorite Spiderman, and that movie really cemented it for me. As for Venom- I've seen the first movie and parts of the second, but not the third Maguire movie, nor have I read any of the comics. I took a lot of creative liberties when it comes to how Venom and his host interact/how Venom influences the host. In any case, I took Sony's idea and ran with it. Hope you guys enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Spiderman.
Chapter One: Venom, Part One
"Make your life count for something."
POV Peter Three
"No, please, I'm sorry, man!" the man sprawled on the ground begged. The swelling and blood made his face unrecognizable. It was surprising he could even speak. "I won't do it again! Just please- please don't kill me!"
Peter Parker, Spiderman, squatted down beside the criminal. He tilted his head. It would have been innocent if his gloves weren't soaked with blood. "See, that's what they all say," he told the beaten pulp kindly. Viciously. "If it makes you feel any better, I really didn't mean to break your nose. But hey, you won't be dealing to kids again, right?"
Spiderman ignored the man's blubbering. He stood and webbed the drug dealer to the wall of the alley. "Now stay there and think about whatf you did," he said, finger pointed at the man. Then, with the press of a button, the vigilante swung away.
Peter stopped a few blocks away to rest on a roof. The adrenaline pumping through his body dulled with every shaky breath. He studied his hands. He'd gone too far this time. The guy was just a drug dealer- sure, to kids, but there were worse people Peter could have saved that pummeling for.
Not like it was hard to do it, though.
It was like breaking a toothpick. It scared him, sometimes, just how strong he was. And how easily he gave into his anger now. Gwen wouldn't-
Gwen's dead. It didn't matter what she thought.
Hands formed into fists. Peter had thought that things would get easier. It had been years; shouldn't he have moved on? Shouldn't the gaping hole in his heart have scabbed over a bit?
Shouldn't he feel less guilty?
When he'd caught the girl in that other universe- MJ, right?- there had been such a sense of relief. Small Peter didn't have to experience the utter gut-wrenching pain of being so close to saving someone, only to come up just short of success. And for just a brief moment, Peter had seen Gwen in his arms, safe. He'd thought, maybe this was how he healed. Maybe this was the first step to being a better Peter Parker. There had been just the briefest spark of hope…
He'd felt that, briefly, with the other two Peters. He had definitely been the odd one out- too chatty, too clingy, too emotional, too bitter- but throughout the time spent with them, just for a couple minutes here and there, Peter had felt understood. He'd felt, well, he'd felt like Peter again. Not some shell of a human.
Peter sniffed. No. He wouldn't cry. So he'd felt wanted for half a day. So what? Small Peter had sent him and Older Peter back home. He was on his own.
But.
He really didn't want to be.
Peter hadn't thought anything would change after his little adventure to another universe- which, by the way, was still absolutely insane in the best way- that he'd help Small Peter defeat the bad guys, he'd go home, end of story. Back to no longer holding back his punches, being the worst Spiderman, barely even being Peter Parker anymore.
And yet, when he'd returned, he couldn't stop thinking about how loved and accepted he'd felt with the other Peters. Even Small Peter's friends were pretty cool. Peter hadn't planned on anything changing when he'd return home- and for the most part, he really hadn't, as the drug dealer back in the alley proved. But he'd watched as Older Peter prevented Small Peter from killing someone. And something inside Peter had ached.
He wanted someone to hold him back from his actions, to completely understand his thoughts with only a look. He wanted, he wanted-
He wanted his brothers back.
And how stupid was that? The Peters Three had only known each other for a few hours. He'd been the only one to say he loved them, the only one who so desperately wanted unconditional love from people who were both him but weren't him. He wanted the caring but steadfast Older Peter to guide him away from where his grief had taken him. He wanted to do the same for Small Peter, to keep the innocent light in that child.
He wanted help.
For the first time in years, since he'd stopped holding back his strength, Peter wanted help.
Spiderman lifted his mask enough to wipe his tears and then swung his way back to his apartment-turned-bona-fide-lab.
In the months since his return, Peter had delved headfirst into creating a device that would allow him to hop multiverses. He'd already done years of research- it was a fascinating subject, okay?- but ever since he'd witnessed the cold hard proof, it had become a bit of an obsession to complete the device. Sure, Small Peter and his friends had called it magic, but what was magic but unexplained science? Peter was certain he could do it.
He was close to finishing the product, after several prototypes-gone-wrong. Peter had done calculation after calculation. Just a few more tweaks, and in a couple of days he should have (another) finished project. And this one shouldn't explode!
Peter only took the time to remove his bloody gloves and mask before grabbing his tools. His suit stank of sweat, but he ignored it in favor of the small device in front of him.
He would meet the other Peters again. He would make sure of it.
Peter awoke with a start, paper stuck to his face. He blinked a few times as his sensitive eyes adjusted to the light. Peter carefully removed the paper from his cheek, checked that his drool hadn't smudged any of his calculations, and then turned to the clock on his desk.
Shit! He was late for work. Peter scrambled to his feet. He really, really couldn't afford to get fired from either of his jobs. Peter sniffed his armpit and scrunched his nose at the odor. He wished he had time to wash his Spiderman suit. And shower. He applied a generous amount of deodorant, packed a bloodless set of gloves and web shooter cartridges into his bag, then threw on his work uniform. Wait, which grocery store was he working at this morning? Shit, other one, other one- a quick switch of the shirts, a quick spray of an almost-empty bottle of Febreze over his body- hey, it wasn't like he could afford cologne to cover the stench- and then he ran out of his tiny apartment.
His stomach ached, too hungry to even gurgle at him anymore. Peter ignored it. He was late, late, late. But he couldn't swing- he hadn't made more web fluid; what was in his bag was the last of it. It would have to be saved for a real emergency.
He practically leapt down the stairs leading to the subway. He slid his metrocard through the machine- it took three times for it to finally be read, and even then the machine happily informed Peter that he was short by three cents.
"Oh, come on!" Peter exclaimed. He thought he'd budgeted perfectly for the exact number of subway rides he'd need to take for work. Speaking of which, he could hear the train entering the station. He took a quick look around, then hopped over the turnstile. Desperate times, man. Also, whoever made subway fares so expensive had clearly never worked a day in their life. Way too expensive.
Peter stumbled into the grocery store eight minutes later. He kept his head down in the hopes his manager wouldn't notice.
"Peter, so nice of you to join us!"
She'd noticed.
Peter avoided eye contact as he punched into the time clock. "Ah, yeah, you know, it's crazy- the- everything-and then the- it won't happen again!"
He ran towards the back of the store where the shipments came in, but not before hearing his manager say, "You've said that the last four times!"
"And this is the last one, I swear!" Peter called over his shoulder.
It wouldn't be the last one.
Peter's day dragged, but at least he was mostly left alone. He took his fifteen-minute break at the McDonalds across the street- maybe he should show up at the Daily Bugle with a few more Spiderman photos, money was getting tight again and his EBT card couldn't exactly be used at fast food joints. He was overjoyed that he hadn't been asked to stay late and that he didn't work his other job as well that day. A conversation caught his interest on his way out, however.
"-zy psychopath on the loose," one gentleman was saying as Peter passed one of the aisles. Peter slowed his gait and started rearranging the items on a shelf.
The man's companion grunted in agreement. "You gotta be all sorts of messed up to tear off the heads but leave the bodies. Their heads haven't even been found yet."
"Trophy?" customer one guessed.
Peter didn't stick around to hear anything else. He left the store, one thing on his mind. If there was someone going around killing people and then taking their heads- well, they'll quickly learn not to mess with Spiderman.
But seriously. Their heads? Who does that?
The sun had long since set, but as New Yorkers were known for, everyone was still out and about. Peter hid his bag with his work clothes on a roof, pulled on his gloves and mask, and began his search for the literal headhunter. Needle in the haystack. He headed towards where one of the murders had taken place, knowledge acquired from overhearing a radio call in a police cruiser.
Peter finally landed on the roof beside the alley of the crime. He hoped to get some sort of information from the cops without having to actually interact with them. Ever since Gwen- ever since he'd started becoming more violent, even the cops who had originally been on his side had taken to saying he was out of control. A menace, as the Daily Bugle loved to call him.
Unfortunately, as this crime had happened hours ago, there wasn't much talking to be had, and the body had already been taken to be autopsied. Peter was about to give up and go about his normal activities and hope he could come across the murderer- yeah right, in New York City? Unlikely, Parker- when a short one-off comment caught his attention.
One of the CSI agents had gone over to her partner with a shake of her head, commented some unimportant information- but then: "I wonder if this is another one of those vigilantes; they say this guy had attempted a kidnapping right before his death."
Her partner nodded in agreement. "And the others all had records, ranging from petty theft to murder. Maybe someone decided to fight crime in a more absolute way."
Peter stored that information for later. A vigilante who kept heads of their victims? Didn't sound very stable to him.
Giving up- Peter realized searching for a guy he knew nothing about was pointless- he swung away.
The next couple hours went as per usual. Swing around, stop a couple petty crimes by beating up the perpetrators to a bloody pulp, push down the guilt in favor of anger, same old same old. Peter began making his way to retrieve his backpack. He'd like to stay out later, but he really needed to make more web fluid. Of course, then he heard screaming.
Well, the city never sleeps, and clearly neither do criminals.
Peter changed trajectory. There! Ah, typical. Man with gun, woman with too much flashy jewelry on at night- tourist, probably. So predictable.
Peter was about to make his entrance when someone- no, something- beat him to it. A giant, bipedal, black gooey…man? Thing? Did this guy fall into a vat of paint or something?
The woman took the criminal's distraction to run away. Meanwhile, Peter's Spidey-sense- he couldn't believe he still called it that after all these years, seriously- prickled at his neck. Whoever this new player was, he was not friendly. Peter had strong suspicions he had discovered the headhunter.
And with how many sharp teeth the thing had, Peter was certain those heads weren't just trophies.
The man regained his leg usage and attempted to flee. The black being reached farther than Peter thought would be possible and grabbed him.
"You said I could eat bad guys!" the thing roared. Peter had a feeling it wasn't speaking to the criminal now dangling in the air. "This is a bad guy! I'm hungry!"
Cool. Earlier assessment of unstable vigilante was… mostly correct.
Oh, right, he should probably step in.
"Y'know, if you're hungry there's a nice little shop down the street," Peter announced his presence with a leap to the fire escape. It was probably best to keep his distance until he had a better understanding of this guy.
With a growl, the thing below him tossed the criminal away. The man tried to run off; Peter quickly webbed him to the dumpster. The force of hitting the bin knocked out the guy. Completely by accident- it was an accident, okay, sometimes he didn't know his own strength.
"Now, now, wait your turn." Peter turned back to the monster. "Sorry about that. Some guys just have no manners."
"You."
Suddenly a tentacle- seriously, what the hell, a tentacle?- lashed out towards the vigilante. Peter flipped out of the way, clinging to the side of the building.
"Hey what did I ever do to you?" Another dodge, this time from a flying punch. Okay great. Aggressive and unstable. This will be fun. Not. "I think this is a case of mistaken identity. Can we talk about this?" Peter leapt out of the way, but this time his attacker also destroyed the fire escape he'd been aiming to land on. Peter shot a web at the opposite building to catch himself on the wall.
The thing growled again. "Peter. Parker."
Peter's heart raced. What the fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck?
The thing leapt at him. Peter dodged the punch. As he swung away, he webbed up his attacker. Unfortunately, the bipedal goo monster quickly disposed of the webs. And did it- did it eat some? What-
Aaand it seemed like his Spidey-sense was broken because he did not see that tentacle coming. It threw Peter against the wall three times before he had the sense to use his webs. Whatever this thing was, it was strong- possibly even stronger than him. So. Fighting dirty it was. Webbing covered the monster's creepy eyes, which really didn't do anything except allow Peter to worm his way out of the tentacle pressing him to the ground. Before any more gross tentacles came after him- seriously, what was his life?- Peter leapt to the roof of one of the buildings. Close combat was absolutely a bad idea. His probably-bruised ribs attested to that.
"No! He will not get away!" the monster yelled. It jumped towards Peter, who scrambled to get to the other side of the roof.
"Can I interest you in some anger management classes?" Peter called, shooting more webs at the creature- this time at its legs. Come on, this thing had to have a weakness somewhere. "Cuz buddy, you definitely need them!" Dang it, no dice. He dodged another oncoming attack. His Spidey-sense was still acting off, though. It was like it could tell this guy was a threat, but not when actual attacks were going to come. Peter wished he'd taken some actual fighting classes instead of relying so heavily on this sixth sense and brute strength- it would have certainly come in handy right about now.
In his defense, most of his opponents weren't gigantic goo monsters.
"He killed me!" the monster shouted- and okay, Peter was starting to think something was up. The creature wasn't speaking directly to him, which meant it was talking to someone or something else. Whether it was a figment of the creature's imagination- do goo monsters have an imagination?- or an actual person-slash-other-monster, that was the question.
"Okay, I am officially confused," Peter said, watching as the creature almost seemed to argue with itself. It hadn't moved to attack again. Interesting. "If I killed you, then how are you here attacking me, clearly not dead? Unless you're a zombie. Which raises a whole other set of problems." Besides this creature knowing his identity. Peter was still reeling from that, mouth dry, but at the moment survival took priority.
Although if he could get just a smidge more information, perhaps he could figure out where this creature came from and what it wanted. Was this another case like Dr. Connors- a science experiment gone wrong? Did this person need help? And prison, obviously, Peter thought of all the headless corpses. Definitely prison.
"You talk too much," the monster hissed. Peter leapt out of the way of a tentacle, only for another one from a different direction to slam into him. Black goo held him down.
"Seriously, man, what's with the tentacles?" he complained. He tested his strength against them. Nope, he was stuck. Every time he managed to get free another tentacle took its place. Like a freaking hydra. "I know some people are into alien tentacles, but I'm not that kind of guy!"
Wait a second.
Alien.
Goo.
"I fought an alien made out of black goo."
Holy shit.
"Hey, uh, by any chance did you take a recent multidimensional trip?" Peter's mind raced. Was this the same alien Older Peter had fought against? If that was the case, then how was it here? Did something go wrong when Small Peter fixed the cracks with that wizard guy? Peter racked his brain for any other information. Did Older Peter say anything else? Literally anything? Like how to defeat it?
The creature hissed. "You talk too much," it repeated. It leaned over Peter and licked his face with a long, slimy tongue. Peter shuddered but thanked his past self fervently for thinking of a full-face mask. "You're not him."
Okay, cool, making progress. But Peter also didn't want to be responsible for an alien going after Older Peter if it somehow managed to hop dimensions again. He was still confused about how it had even gotten here in the first place, but really that was at the low end of his list of priorities right now.
"Yeah, that's right," Peter agreed, testing his bonds again. Still nothing. "So, uh, we can definitely talk about all this. Figure out how we can help each other." Which Peter really had no intention of doing. An alien that another Spiderman had fought? Yeah, this guy was not good news. But really, Peter didn't have many options. If he could weasel enough information out of the alien then maybe he could figure out how to defeat it. And hey, worst comes to worst, he could always try his multidimensional hopper device once it was complete to simply ask Older Peter what to do.
He really hoped it didn't come down to that.
If another Peter Parker could figure it out, then he could, too.
Hopefully.
If he could get free.
The alien was still leaning over Peter. It bared its teeth even more. Drool dripped onto the spider of his outfit. "Ugh, seriously? I have to wash this by hand, you know."
"You can help me," the creature growled lowly. Peter's Spidey-sense finally went haywire- thanks a lot for nothing- but he wasn't sure what was coming. And then the black goo was… shrinking? Until a man was revealed.
"Venom, no, wait!" the man cried, a look of not-quite-fear and frustration on his face.
Peter was stunned at the sight of another human. Had- Had he been inside the alien all this time? And then he noticed that the black goo hadn't retreated entirely, but instead now stuck to him. Seeped inside of him.
"What the fuck?" Peter asked eloquently, terror skyrocketing. What was happening? Was he about to be killed horrendously from the inside out?
I have a greater purpose for us.
"Holy shit." Peter officially freaked out.
The other man also seemed out of sorts. "Really, Venom? I don't go along with all your plans so you ditch me? How about you leave that Spider-guy alone and we'll go back to Mexico."
What.
Was.
Happening.
"Who the hell are you?" Peter got to his feet, finding and holding onto his anger. The fear was pushed aside for now. "You work with aliens? Doesn't sound like a high-paying job, buddy."
The man pointed at Peter. "No! No, I do not 'work' with aliens!"
"We eat bad guys," a sudden floating head appeared beside Peter, who jumped and absolutely did not shriek. To make matters worse, it wasn't a floating head, but attached…to…him?
"Get off of me!" Peter demanded as he swatted at the head. The alien retaliated by headbutting him. Peter saw double. What was his life. "And why are you inside me?" That…sounded really wrong. Oops. "You couldn't kill me in a fair fight so you're killing me from the inside?"
"Yes, but that is not the reason I've attached to your puny body," the thing- wait, didn't the other man call it Venom? Was that its name? Did the alien have a name?
Peter tugged with both hands at the head, but- perhaps predictably- the head stayed where it wanted to.
"It's complicated," mystery man said to Peter. Then, to Venom, "I thought we discussed this already. This is the wrong Peter, so there's no reason to kill him, now let's get out of here before we get blown to kingdom come! Remember? We're in hiding?" He hurriedly added, for Peter's benefit, "Of no fault of our own!"
"You're not that great at hiding," Peter informed them, still wrestling with Venom's head and the couple tentacles that had appeared. The alien was definitely just toying with him at this point, but honestly what other choice did Peter have? "Headless corpses are a dead giveaway." Was that too dark? Too late, he'd already said it.
"Part of the fault was our own," Venom spoke over him, which did absolutely nothing to calm the complete and utter terror Peter felt. He still didn't understand what was going on. As a wishful scientist, he thrived on information. Right now? He's got very little.
"Okay, you know what, I'm not having this conversation with you," the other man threw his hands up in exasperation. "Get back over here, leave this guy alone, let's go get some chocolate somewhere and then hitch a ride to Mexico."
"Excuse me, can we get back to the fact that this thing is killing me from the inside?" Peter interjected.
"Your body is different from Eddie's," Venom said. "It will take much longer for you to die. Although I already ate one of your organs."
"You ate one of my organs?!"
"An unimportant one."
"They're all important!"
"Not this one."
"How would you know!"
"Venom, would you be a dear and leave this poor guy alone," Eddie, Peter recalled the man's name to be, spoke over the budding argument and panic Peter felt. Did Older Peter ever feel like this? Helpless and useless and utterly lost? Although, with how calm, cool, and collected the more experienced Spiderman had been, Peter wasn't sure the man had ever gotten this up close and personal with the alien.
"I will return to you, Eddie," Venom promised, but before Peter could feel any sort of relief, the alien continued, "As soon as I find the real Peter Parker who killed my alternate self."
"Ouch," Peter commented, feeling déjà vu from the last time someone had said that. Dang, he really wasn't a real Peter Parker to anyone, was he?
"This host will be better suited," Venom went on. Eddie looked, dare Peter say it, heartbroken? Wrecked? Suspicions began forming in the back of Peter's mind. "It is temporary."
"Do I get any say in this?" Peter asked, feeling a headache form. "Because I'm really not down with killing anyone, much less another me. And like, we can't even get there, anyway. Different world and all."
Without any prompting, an image in his mind conjured his multidimensional hopper device. It was as though it had been pushed to the front of his thoughts.
This is the way.
Peter was speechless. The alien not only had access to his organs- he really should find out which organ had been eaten, holy shit that's something he never thought he'd say- but apparently also had access to his thoughts.
"You really have no concept of personal space," Peter commented, trying to push down just how creeped out he was.
"You get used to it," Eddie said, then hurriedly corrected, "Wait! No, you won't get used to it. You know why? Because Venom is getting back in me right this instant!"
Peter felt humor and interest that absolutely wasn't his own tickle the back of his head. Okay, wow, if he wasn't certain before, he definitely was now. Those two were definitely banging. How did that even- Nope! Never mind, don't want to know! No leud images needed!
Not yours to see.
Great. Even the alien currently attached to Peter's insides was possessive over his…relationship? Peter shook his head. Priorities, man, priorities.
Your priority is to get us to the one you call Peter Two. So we can KILL him! Violently!
"Hello, still here," Eddie waved a hand. He looked put out, an inkling of a frown on his face that he was failing to hide.
"I will return to you, Eddie," Venom promised again. "Goodbye, Eddie."
"Wait-"
Peter didn't know what else Eddie said because suddenly there was black goo enveloping his entire body. It felt slippery, but had a firm hold on his body. Peter's adrenaline skyrocketed. He tried to tear the alien off him, only for his arms to whip to his sides without his command.
Before Venom could even cover the outside of them.
Venom really had control over Peter's body, huh.
How extremely terrifying.
Black covered his vision, but not in the passing-out-way. He couldn't see, but by being attached to Venom he could intrinsically 'feel' where everything was as Venom saw it. Peter wondered if this was what dissociation felt like. He felt his- Venom's- body moving. He instinctively knew rather than saw that they were haphazardly jumping buildings and destroying walls in their wake, just as he instinctively knew that Venom was headed towards his apartment.
You know, it's really creepy you can just read my thoughts and know where I live and all that.
Your weak human brain is easy to pick apart.
Rude.
Wait. Peter suddenly realized what he was feeling- or, rather, what he wasn't feeling. He'd felt panic and wariness towards Venom, he knew this. He was still 'logically' scared and mistrustful. There was an alien wearing him as a meatsuit, for fuck's sake. But the emotions themselves? Peter tried to grasp them, but they were pushed out of reach. His heartrate had also lowered to a normal speed.
Are you changing how I feel? Can you do that? What the hell?
Without the emotions to back up his thoughts, Peter clearly had less of a filter than he did already.
Sudden, gripping panic choked him. Mouth dry, head foggy. His heart had never beat that fast- was he dying? Was this what death felt like? He couldn't think, only feel uncontrollable fear-
And then it was gone in an instant. Back to normal.
Peter took a moment, head still reeling. Then,
You could have just said yes!
Any distrust that had been welling up in Peter was brushed aside. Now that he was aware of it, it was…almost soothing.
Wait a minute, don't get distracted. That's what Venom wanted.
And then suddenly Peter was back in his body. He stumbled, not expecting to have control over his legs again. His arm reached out of its own accord to catch him before he fell on top of what he realized now was his multidimensional hopper. Oh. He'd already returned to his apartment? That was fast.
"You know," Peter stated calmly- the only emotion he was able to feel, it seemed. "I have absolutely no reason to help you. You just tried to kill me, and now you want to kill my" brother "friend." Were they friends? They'd known each other for like, a day. Not even. Just a few hours. A pang of sadness hit him before Venom pushed it away. "And can you stop doing that? My body, my emotions, not yours."
Let me make this very clear.
Peter's body was jerked towards his kitchenette. Fear began to bubble up again, but this time it was all him. Probably. Venom grabbed the only sharp knife Peter owned and pressed it to his jugular. Oh, yup, there's the panic.
Manipulative asshole.
I am the one who controls you.
The knife pressed in, just enough to pierce the skin. Peter's breath hitched. Logically, he knew Venom wouldn't kill him right then- he needed to finish the machine first. But the fear-that-might-not-be-completely-natural was making it hard to calm down.
Sudden sporadic images of his coworkers, of his Aunt May, of Small Peter and his friends all flashed in his mind's eyes. Peter swallowed thickly. Point made.
Now. The knife dropped onto the floor. Finish. The. Device.
"Can I shower first?" Peter blurted as soon as his heartrate had slowed.
NO!
Okay, okay. Fine. No need to be rude.
He decided he would finish the device. Venom wasn't leaving any time soon, and to be honest he was in over his head. That Eddie guy seemed like more of a mess than he was, so there'd be no help there. The only hope he had now was to go to Older Peter's world, warn him about Venom, and then have the other Peter help him get rid of the alien. Older Peter had defeated a Venom in his world; surely another one would be a walk in the park?
Peter peeled off his mask and gloves. Seeing his web cartridges reminded him of another problem. Or two. He was almost out of web fluid; he had enough materials to make another couple cartridges; however, after that he'd need to sneak into a university and… ahem… acquire some more.
Finish the device!
"Jesus Christ, can you wait a bit longer?" Peter snapped. He blinked, taken aback. "Uh, I mean- can we at least compromise?" As much as one can compromise after being nearly killed, emotionally manipulated, and then blackmailed.
The. DEVICE.
"I'll work on it!" Peter snapped. "But I need to make more web fluid too!"
His body was jerked around until it was in front of the machine. Peter felt a headache forming. This was going to be a long night.
True to his word, Peter did work on the multidimensional hopper. Not like Venom would have let him do anything else. Although, Peter ended up getting a lucky break when some of the code that had to run took a couple hours. He made two more web cartridges- one for each wrist- and even managed to wash his Spiderman suit while he showered. Hey, it saved water, no matter how gross. And awkward, with Venom there.
Peter shuddered. Best not to think too hard about it.
It was only when it was five in the morning and Peter was sure he was going to black out from exhaustion that Venom reluctantly allowed him to sleep. Peter fought against it for as long as he could. Who knew what Venom would do as he slept? What if he hurt someone? Killed someone? Venom could push down his emotions all it wanted, but Peter was far from stupid. Trusting a murderous alien? That would make him stupid.
In the end, though, his body's need for sleep- and Venom's incessant pestering that the body needed to recharge or whatever- forced Peter to collapse onto his mattress.
