flash: *singing* don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious

mj, ned, betty, literally anyone who sees him: sus

xXx

All things considered, Flash thought he was maintaining a perfect air of normalcy.

You are not.

Despite what Flash suspected were Venom's best efforts to make him look like a fool at any given point—No, you don't need my help for that—he was nonetheless conducting himself with an aura of control, confidence, and calm. No one suspected a thing.

"Uh, Flash?"

Betty's voice brought Flash back down to Earth, where he blinked and found himself staring straight at an off-white wall.

"The door's about six inches to your left."

Flash fought back a grimace.

So maybe he wasn't as in control as he would have liked. And maybe his friends weren't so fooled by his performative normalcy, either. But that was okay, he kept telling himself it had to be okay, because at least their suspicions could never be accurate enough to pinpoint the truth—Flash had an alien inside him.

"Ha, yeah." Flash stepped back and gave Betty an awkward nod. "I knew that."

He pretended not to see her concerned look as he stepped inside their AP Euro class.

Flash wished he could say such slip-ups were a rare occurrence, but he'd discovered within the second day back at school after break that having another voice in his head made acting like No, nothing is going on, I'm totally fine! an all but impossible task. Just when he'd think he was getting away with his performance, Venom would insert his completely unnecessary and wholly obnoxious opinion, leaving Flash stuck in the middle of shutting the damn alien up and convincing his friends all was well.

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

I am getting hungry.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Betty asked as she sat at her desk to the left of Flash's. "If we explained to Ms. Louis that you were sick over the break, I'm sure she'd excuse you for—"

"I swear, I'm fine," Flash interrupted, plastering on what he hoped was a convincing smile. "I was just… lost in thought."

A knowing look gleamed in Betty's eyes. "Oh, I see. About MJ, by any chance?"

If Flash hadn't had a symbiote occupying 90% of his thoughts, MJ probably would have taken up at least 70%, so answering in the affirmative wouldn't be too much of a lie.

"Yep, you got me," he said, giving Betty an awkward smile. "It's just still sinking in that she and I are… together."

Jesus. And you called me a bad liar.

"You guys are so cute." Betty shook her head, grinning. "Look, I know I probably can't say much that will ease any of your early relationship anxiety, but trust me. We both know MJ doesn't do anything she doesn't want to. She asked you out for a reason."

Flash nodded, fighting the urge to give Betty a corny double thumbs up that would undoubtedly undermine his nonchalant presentation. "Yep, you're right. I just need to—to have more faith in her and myself."

You have said 'yep' twice in the past two minutes. Nice going, dimwit.

"Shut up," he muttered under his breath, and Betty frowned.

"I'm sorry?"

Flash's eyes widened, and he frantically shook his head. "No, I wasn't talking to you! I was, uh, I was…" Fuck, what was he supposed to say? He was talking to himself? Yeah, that would go over well—

Wait a minute.

That was actually…

She will think you are even more of a loser than you already are.

"I was talking to myself," Flash said, not quite lying, if not quite telling the truth, either. "My therapist says it helps me… er, control my attitude." He laughed awkwardly. "You know, if I'm about to say something stupid, I tell myself not to?"

This is so embarrassing for us.

Betty opened and closed her mouth, staring at him with pursed lips for an extended beat. "Okay. If you say so."

"Trust me, my therapist says so."

"Uh huh. And their name is?"

"Dr. Vee," Flash said without missing a beat. "Yeah, he's great. Kind of scary, sometimes—he's got this toothy smile—but his advice really, really sticks in my head. It's like hearing him every day."

Flash had always been able to read Betty like a book, and he could tell she was flipping back and forth between belief and continued suspicion. Finally, she sighed, relenting.

"Well, if your therapist—"

"Dr. Vee," Flash supplied, and Betty nodded.

"—right, if Dr. Vee says that talking to yourself will be of benefit to you, I am all for it." She threw him a teasing wink. "Just don't expect the rest of us to pick it up anytime soon."

Good idea. One idiot is enough.

Two idiots, Flash wanted to say, two idiots, but he somehow held his tongue. The last thing he needed was for Betty to yet again misconstrue his comment to Venom as one directed toward herself.

Fortunately, their conversation soon shifted to Liz—if Flash had texted her, she and Betty's plans for staying together long distance, how she wanted to visit with Betty in Queens over the summer—and not long after, Ms. Louis walked in and started class.

In other words, Flash had dodged a bullet.

But Betty's concern was only the beginning of his troubles. The next day, after school, at a casual friends versus friends soccer match, Ned stuck around after Chemistry Club to catch the end of the game and cheer Flash on. Which was great, in and of itself! Flash loved having his friend's support. But while Ned was no MJ in terms of his ability to observe, he was certainly no fool, either.

"You killed out there, dude," Ned said to Flash as all the participants started dispersing after the game.

Can we go home and eat now? It has been days since I was last fed!

Flash laughed, wiping sweat off his forehead with a white towel before sticking it in his duffel bag. "Thanks, man. And thanks for coming to watch."

"Anytime, anytime." Ned handed Flash his regular sneakers, sitting down next to Flash on the sideline bench as Flash began changing shoes. "To be honest, I don't know if I've ever seen you play that well."

Flash chuckled. "Hope that means my practice has been paying off."

"No, dude, I mean in terms of stamina."

Flash paused in the middle of tying his shoe. "Ah… Really?"

"I didn't see you take a single break. And holy shit, your reflexes?" Ned shook his head, impressed. "Awesome, dude."

"Thank you," Flash murmured, praying the anxiety that had suddenly stiffened his upper body wasn't discernible to Ned. Almost running into a wall was one thing. Sudden physiological improvement?

You're welcome.

Yeah, that was a lot harder to explain away.

Dammit. Flash hadn't properly thought about it yet, maybe because he'd been afraid to, but now? Jesus, it was hard to miss the obvious—he was faster, stronger, had higher endurance, and probably possessed other side effects he just wasn't aware of yet.

Correct. Symbiosis means mutual benefit. You keep me alive, I make you a better version of yourself.

Flash somehow withheld a snort at Venom's comment. Right, it looked like he would need to have a talk with his SQUIP about all these new 'abilities.' Because exciting as it was to be better at soccer, if Flash couldn't provide a rational, logical explanation for the changes, there was no use to his improvement whatsoever.

"Do you need your inhaler?" Ned asked, snapping Flash back to the present, and Flash almost said no, Jesus Christ, he almost refused what was effectively mandatory medication for him after intense soccer matches. He caught himself in the nick of time, however, biting his tongue in the haste of the action.

"Yeah, thanks," he forced out, opening a hand for Ned to place it in after he finished tying his shoes. Because increased stamina? Increased speed? Increased strength? With a little brainstorming, Flash was sure he could explain that as a byproduct of some new and improved exercise regimen.

The disappearance of his hereditary asthma?

You are a medical miracle.

And if Ned watched Flash with an unusual closeness when he took a puff from his inhaler, Flash pretended not to notice.

We could eat him, if you are worried.

Flash promptly choked on his albuterol, and the following frenzy of Ned thumping him on the back and Venom shouting at him to stop breathing like an idiot almost provided a sufficient distraction for Flash to forget about his ever-present companion's terrifying comment.

Almost.

Flash waited until after he'd finished his calculus homework that night—all while doing his best to ignore Venom's admittedly entertaining but oh so unhelpful commentary on the problem sets at hand—and was locked away in the security of his bedroom to confront Venom.

"Okay, we need to have a talk," he said, crossing his arms and cringing at how much he sounded like his mother.

With the characteristic squelching that Flash was maybe starting to get used to, Venom emerged from Flash's upper back and floated around to face him.

Then let's talk. I have been told I am an excellent conversational partner.

Flash pressed his lips together to hold back an amused smile. Surely he was suffering from Stockholm syndrome if he was actually starting to find Venom's company tolerable on occasion, if he was starting to accept the company of a monster who'd threatened his friends' lives for the sake of 'world domination.'

Flash still didn't believe Venom was telling him everything, if only because surely someone hellbent on taking over the world wouldn't be content to waste time cooped up at a high school two days straight, but that wasn't the conversation Flash wanted to have tonight.

"Earlier," Flash began, "after my soccer game, you said we could eat Ned." He hesitated, wincing. "Please… God, please tell me you were joking."

I could eat your liver instead. It is starting to look very tasty.

Flash paled. "What?"

Venom chuckled. I have been very patient with you, Flash, because of your youth and your… high-strung nature.

Rude.

I have even delayed my personal plans to allow you to become more acclimated to my presence.

Flash glared at him. "Gee, thanks."

Venom ignored his snark. But it has been several days since my last true meal, and I have yet to re-achieve my full strength since your stay in the hospital. It is why our symbiosis has been so inconsequential, limited to strength and speed and other little things.

If that was inconsequential, Flash was afraid to know what full symbiosis looked like.

Venom floated closer to Flash's face. We must discuss my dietary needs.

Please don't say people, Flash prayed, please don't say people—

Brains.

"Goddammit," Flash muttered, freeing one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why couldn't—Why couldn't he eat pulique? Or tapado? Or just a fucking sandwich?

I can eat any of those! I can eat anything. But I need brains to survive.

Flash shook his head. "No. No way. No species can survive on only one thing."

Pandas.

"You're not a panda!" Flash snapped.

Really? I had no idea.

"I may not be as good at biology as my girlfriend," Flash said, "but I know enough that it can't be 'brains' that sustain you. It's something in them."

Fine, fine, Venom grumbled. You are right. I require phenethylamine, commonly but not exclusively found in brains. However, brains are the best tasting—

Flash grabbed his phone off his desk beside him, googling what foods contained phenethylamine as fast as his fingers could type. He tapped on the first result.

"Chocolate has phenethylamine," he exclaimed, scrolling through the website's list. "You can eat chocolate. And peanuts. And, uh"—Flash squinted at the small font—"Italian salami."

Don't feed me the salami, feed me the Italian!

"No! We—You are not eating people! Not while you're sharing my body!" Flash jumped up to grab his computer from where he'd plugged it in earlier, opening the device and pulling up the first grocery delivery service he could find.

What are you doing? Venom asked, floating around to peer over Flash's shoulder.

"I am setting up regular orders of chocolate," Flash said, "and then I'm going to see what I can do about finding phenethylamine supplements for us to keep on hand." He shook his head. "You're not eating anyone, especially not my friends. Hell no."

Flash wasn't sure providing Venom alternatives to keep him alive was the greatest option, either, but what choice did he have? Risk losing his vital organs one by one? And even though Flash was still wracking his brain almost every waking hour for a way to safely free himself from Venom, there was still the matter of Venom's threat to consider.

There had to be a way out of this mess. Flash just… didn't know what it was. And as of right now, there was no one he could ask, either.

Fuck. He hated lying to his friends.

Venom watched as Flash signed up for regular deliveries of dark chocolate before searching up phenethylamine supplements at nearby pharmacies. You will not be able to suppress my hunger forever, Flash.

"I don't need forever," Flash muttered, nearly crushing his computer keys into the keyboard with the ferocity of his typing. "Just until I find a way to get rid of you."

Flash half-expected Venom to snarl some retort about how sick he was of Flash getting in the way of his ultimate goal, but there was only silence as Venom sunk back into Flash's body.

There had to be more going on. There had to be something Venom wasn't telling him about—about his so-called mission to become the leader of the human race.

Flash bit back a deprecating laugh. Hell, there were probably a shit ton of things Venom wasn't telling him about his very existence, their very partnership, whatever. He probably should have been grateful Venom hadn't asserted control over his body and gone on a citywide rampage.

In fact…

"Why haven't you done that?" Flash said, sitting back in his chair. "I'm sure it would take you two seconds to take control of my nervous system."

Hungry or no, Venom was inside him. There had to be a reason he was yet to use Flash like a life-sized marionette.

But whatever the reason was, Venom refused to provide it.

Flash rolled his eyes at the continued silence. "Fine." He snapped his laptop shut. "Your chocolate will be here tomorrow."

The next morning, Flash thanked the grace of the universe that Gerald did not question why he was eating Dove dark chocolate with his breakfast, nor did he ask why Flash was dead set on leaving for school a half hour early.

As Flash stood in line at the pharmacy—a line at 6:30 in the morning, how unlucky could he get?—with multiple bottles of phenethylamine capsules in hand, all he could think was thank God tomorrow was Friday.

"So, do you feel… replenished or whatever? Able to manifest maximum symbiosis?" Flash asked as he pulled up at Midtown, not bothering to suppress the mockery in his tone. He'd eaten an unholy amount of chocolate and taken, for now, a single dose of phenethylamine.

And by a single dose, Flash meant a single handful.

I suppose, Venom grumbled. For the present, at least.

Well, now was better than never.

Hey, is that your girlfriend?

Flash blinked, and whether his head turned under his own power or not was up for debate, but he soon caught sight of MJ heading toward Midtown's courtyard. He checked the time on his clock in his car and realized he was at school almost 10 minutes before the bell—early even for him.

Flash shoved the bottle of supplements into his backpack, turned off his car, and barely remembered to lock the vehicle as he all but flew toward Midtown. "MJ! Wait up!"

You act like you haven't seen her all week. You had biology together yesterday!

"Seeing her in class and at lunch with friends is different than seeing her alone," Flash muttered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He plastered on a bright smile as MJ turned around and gave him a small wave, his bright smile soon turning genuine as he neared her.

"How's it going, stranger?" MJ asked, sticking a bookmark into the spine of the paperback in her hands—The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Flash realized, warmth flooding his chest as he realized she was reading it at his recommendation. "You're here early."

"Well, I was really missing a certain someone," Flash said with an airy shrug. He slipped his hand into MJ's available one.

"Is that so?" MJ laced their fingers together. "Might I ask who?"

They walked into Midtown's courtyard, hand in hand, and sat down on one of the concrete slabs that lined the area's thriving flowerbeds. Their fingers remained intertwined.

"Yeah, you might know her, actually," Flash said, doing his best to suppress the smirk threatening to break across his lips. "Red-brown curls, taller than me, captain of the Academic Decathlon team, all-around the smartest person in the school?"

MJ's nose scrunched up as she pretended to contemplate his description. "Hmm, that's a tough one."

"Maybe it'll help if I show you a picture."

When Flash proceeded to pull out a mirror from one of the small pockets in his backpack, MJ laughed. "Okay, that's good. Point to Flash."

Why do you have a mirror?

"I have to ask, though," MJ continued, amused, as Flash re-secured the glass in his backpack, "why the hell do you carry around a mirror?"

I just said that!

Flash shrugged. "One of those things you never know if you'll need, I guess." Besides, there'd been a time where monitoring his appearance on the regular was a necessity—old habits died hard. "Not to mention Betty really appreciates being able to borrow it."

MJ laughed again. "Of course, helping a friend in need." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "And hey, speaking of friends in need, you've been acting…" She paused, tilting her head. "Well. A little strange, to put it one way."

"Who, me?" Flash said, feigning confusion at her convenient segue. "I don't know what you're talking about."

MJ raised an eyebrow. "Playing dumb doesn't work with me, Flash."

What a shame. You are so good at it, too. Hardly acting at this point.

Flash gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore Venom's snark. "Well, maybe I've been shaking off the last of whatever I had over the break." He plastered on a fake smile. "There's no way to know what it was, right? It could've even been some kind of… parasite."

Will you stop calling me that?!

No, Flash didn't think he would.

Bastard.

Flash's eye twitched. If MJ noticed—which Flash had no doubt she did—she chose not to comment on it.

"I'm not one to rule anything out," MJ said instead, "but as someone who cares about you, I am legally obligated to ask what the hell's going on. Shortened attention span? Head in the clouds? And according to Ned, increased energy?"

Amusement twitched at Flash's lips. "Is there a particular reason that concern for my welfare is being funneled through you and not some mass intervention?"

Because she has kissing privileges.

"Mass interventions are reserved for only last-ditch measures," MJ replied, "and I was unofficially chosen for these initial questions since… Well."

Their eyes simultaneously dropped to their still intertwined hands, and a smirk tugged at MJ's lips.

"I might have a slight advantage in getting your attention."

Flash's breath hitched. "Right."

"Now 'fess up. What's got you so on edge?" MJ tilted her head. "Is it something with your parents? Are they pissed about the hospital bill?"

After a pause, Flash shook his head. "No." He chuckled. "My parents won't be home for another four days, so I'm putting off any concern on that front until the last possible moment."

Flash could tell MJ wanted to ask where his parents were and why the hell he'd neglected to mention their absence, which in fact was the precise reason he'd started with that particular statement—it was his ace in the hole for changing the subject.

You don't give her enough credit.

MJ sighed. "Okay, we'll talk about that later."

"When later?" Flash asked. "Tonight?"

MJ blinked. "What?" She shook her head. "I mean, I don't have work—"

"So you're free," Flash continued, his train of thought chugging onward and possibly off the rails. Too late to stop the runaway now. "Great. What do you say we go on a date?" Their first real date since getting together, as it happened.

"Flash, don't change the subject—"

"I'm not, I promise!" An awkward smile quirked his lips. "Well, I am, but it's more of a related tangent. Picture this—we meet at the park this evening, walk around together, and maybe stop at that nearby bakery for a treat."

"On a Thursday?"

"What's wrong with Thursday?"

"It's a school night."

"I'll have you home by 9."

MJ tilted her head. "Alright. You promise we'll talk?" She raised an eyebrow with the lilt of her question, and Flash nodded.

"About whatever you want. I just…" He shook his head. "There's about a thousand eyes and ears here I could do without."

It's true. That kid with blue hair has been eavesdropping the entire time.

MJ glanced around them. Though no students were staring directly at where they sat, high school was high school, especially when rumors could fly about the probable salutatorian and the Student Council VP with his parents' money up to his eyeballs.

"Good point," MJ admitted. She squeezed his hand that remained locked in her own, mischief glittering in her eyes. "And there's probably more we could get away with together off grounds, too."

Flash's eyes widened at the insinuation, but he recovered quickly.

Liar.

"Are you saying—"

"That I want to give you the warmest teddy bear's hug without fear of unnecessary surveillance?" She grinned. "Darn right I am."

HA!

Flash narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I see."

She is a pistol, Flash. I like her.

The first bell for class rang as MJ burst out laughing. She shook her head, releasing Flash's hand to stand and grab her backpack off the ground before slinging it over her shoulders. "6:30, the bench under the scarlet oak, and either I bring a list of questions or you come ready to bare your soul. Or both."

Flash stood, too, unable to keep a smile from flitting onto his lips. "What's in it for me?"

"Besides the present of my presence?" MJ tapped her lips. "If you deliver me no foul words, perhaps you will not depart unkissed."

Flash resisted the urge to swoon at the reference. "You drive a hard bargain."

"I was a lawyer in a past life."

I can believe that.

Their conversation shifted to more academic things as Flash walked MJ to class, mostly discussion of how their respective AP Research papers were coming along. Flash was proud to learn MJ had at last completed her full draft, and he agreed in a heartbeat to review it for her, though he was also thankful to learn Ned would be checking her math—statistics were not his forte.

They parted ways at MJ's first hour, and despite Flash's concern the day would pass with agonizing slowness because of how much he was looking forward to their date that evening, he was back home, finishing his homework, and getting ready to leave for the park before he knew it.

No, trust me, the black brings out your eyes.

Flash snorted, tossing aside the black polo Venom had not stopped championing since Flash had begun the arduous process of getting ready. "What, of my pupils?"

Fine, fine. Try the red. Red is the color of romance!

"I don't want to look like a fire hydrant."

No, not that red, idiot.

Venom shot out a tendril from Flash's back and into his closet, the sudden movement hardly distracting Flash from his contemplation of a forest green or a royal blue button-up. He removed a maroon polo from a middle hanger and flung it at Flash.

This red! It matches MJ's hair, doesn't it?

Flash peeled the shirt off his face, where Venom's aim had so gracefully landed it. "Huh," he said, looking the fabric over. "Yeah, it kind of does."

Told you so.

In fact, the color was reminiscent of the shirt Flash had been wearing when they'd shared their first kiss. Couldn't go wrong with that, right?

Flash's phone buzzed from where he'd left it atop his desk. When he opened his right palm, Venom grabbed it and dropped it into his hand. A swipe up revealed MJ had texted him—confirming the time and place of their date, by the looks of it.

Flash sent her a quick response, including reassurance that he'd be leaving soon, before returning his attention to the mess of clothes flung across his bed.

"Okay, yeah. I like this red," Flash said, tugging off his plain t-shirt and pulling on the polo Venom had thrown at him. He contemplated changing into 'nicer' pants, but his dark jeans looked pretty good with the maroon.

He hoped MJ would agree.

As Flash began placing his shirts back on their hangers and handing them to Venom to return to his closet, he went through a mental list of all his homework due tomorrow and early next week. He was on track with AP Research, easy. He and MJ had finished their AP Bio lab in class today, so tomorrow morning he could finish typing up their report, which wasn't actually due until Monday. As for his AP Lit practice test—

Enough about your homework! Don't you have someplace to be?

"Okay, Mom," Flash muttered, perhaps more amused than he was willing to admit. He handed Venom the last shirt to hang back up, and the tendril did as prompted before slamming the closet door shut.

Thank you! Now let's get going.

"Ah, not so fast," Flash said as he tucked his phone and house key into his back pocket. "Get out here for a second."

With the customary squelching, Venom emerged from Flash's upper back and floated around to face him. Yes?

"I want you to be on your best behavior tonight," Flash said, doing his best to walk the line between warning and politeness in his request. "MJ and I are at a very important stage in our relationship."

Better known as the precarious first week.

And what does that have to do with me? Venom asked. Flash suspected he would have moodily crossed his arms if—well, if he had any.

"Because I don't want any distractions, understand? No comments about wanting to eat anyone, don't talk about 'world domination' or whatever, and if you even so much as imply you're going to hurt MJ or anyone else, I will tell MJ to blast the highest decibel video she can find."

Venom seemed to almost… curl in on himself, a fraction of an inch. I am not so cruel as you might believe.

"Oh, yeah?" Flash grabbed the bottle of phenethylamine supplements off his desk and dumped as many as could fit into his hand. "You mean you're finally going to tell me what you're actually up to? No more 'I'm gonna take over the world' bullshit?"

I don't know what you're talking about. I have been completely truthful with you.

Flash laughed, a grating sound. "Like hell you have." He picked up his water bottle and began swallowing the supplements, pausing after he'd down about half of them. "I'm gonna ask you a question, one question, and I want you to be honest with me."

Venom stared at Flash, as if evaluating his options. What is it you want to know?

Maybe Flash should've pushed his luck and demanded answers to two questions. When it came down to it, of course, one took immediate priority.

"Are you actually going to hurt my friends?"

There was a lot of leverage at stake in that question, Flash knew, a lot of power Venom currently held over him, but having—having Venom inside him was something Flash could maybe, possibly, eventually learn to live with, even if it meant his life was cut short.

What he couldn't bear was the same happening to MJ. To Ned. To Betty.

It is unlikely, was Venom's careful response, and Flash's knees would have buckled in relief if Venom hadn't kept him upright.

"Okay," Flash said, uncaring of how his voice cracked. "Okay. Now maybe we can—we can come to some kind of arrangement."

Venom laughed. Not right now. You'd better swallow those pills before you are late to your very important date.

Venom's seemingly extensive knowledge of Earthly cultural references made no sense to Flash for an alien who claimed he hadn't been anywhere on this planet but Mexico until bonding with Flash, but he did have a point—MJ would be expecting him at the park within the next 12 minutes.

Flash hastily took the rest of his supplements, sprinted down the stairs to tell Gerald where he was going and when he'd be back, and then headed out the door with a pair of dead airpods in his ears to begin his journey to the park. The sidewalks were pleasantly uncrowded—by New York standards, at least—and Flash soon found himself relaxing into the light breeze that drifted through the streets.

Can I ask you a question?

A smirk tugged at Flash's lips. "You just did."

Very funny.

Flash bit back a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead." He'd just asked Venom a question, so it was only right Venom could ask him one. Equivalent exchange.

Do you plan to tell your girlfriend about… us?

Flash blinked, stopping in his tracks on the sidewalk and consequently having to apologize to the young woman who crashed into him. Once she was out of earshot and Flash had stepped out of any other pedestrians' way, Flash sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't have worded that differently?"

What's wrong with what I said?

Flash decided to take the fifth.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell MJ," he admitted after a pause. "She knows something's going on—I think all of them know—but how the hell am I supposed to explain the truth?" Part of him still didn't believe it.

A wariness promptly stiffened Flash's shoulders. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking? Do you plan to…"

No, he couldn't say 'expose yourself.' God, no. Not in public.

You already asked me to behave.

"Yeah, well." Flash shrugged, pulling at his collar. "We've got some unresolved trust issues."

Hmph.

Flash sighed. "Did I answer your question to your satisfaction?"

You absolutely did not, but—wait. Do you hear that?

Flash frowned. "Hear what?"

As he started to pull the dead airpods out of his ears, the unmistakable sound of tires squealing filled the air, and Flash had barely moved his left foot to turn around when—

JUMP!

The soles of Flash's shoes skidded over the top of a black sedan as he pushed himself off the concrete with unnatural force, distantly registering the dark matter that emerged from his right hand and grabbed a light pole to yank him into the clear.

Flash swallowed a hiss of pain as he tried to push himself up after taking a violent tumble down the concrete. Fuck, his left arm had caught the brunt of that impact, hadn't it?

"Oh my God, are you okay?" a woman exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"I'm"—Flash bit back a cry as white hot pain seared through his arm when he moved to sit up—"fine. I'm fine."

"I'm calling paramedics," the woman said, dialing with one hand as she helped Flash stand up with the other. "You're gonna want your arm looked at, kid. That car sent you flying."

Flash was fairly certain the car had, in fact, not been what sent him flying, thanks to the quick thinking of a certain symbiote, but better for this lady to believe otherwise. She was right about one thing, though—his arm had to be broken in at least two places.

Flash decided to bite the bullet and look down, fully expecting a bone to be jutting out where it did not belong, only for bile to rise in the back of his throat as he watched muscles and tendons throb beneath his skin before working in tandem to pop the bone's shattered pieces together like the world's worst jigsaw puzzle.

You're welcome.

Stomach rolling, Flash barely made it to a garbage can at the edge of the sidewalk to lose the little he'd eaten for lunch that day.

You are lucky I already absorbed the phenethylamine.

Flash collapsed next to the trash can, bracing himself against the metal side as he heaved for fresh air. "What the fuck?" he whispered, his entire body quivering as he traced the veins of his left arm with his right hand. "How did you—it was—"

Nothing I am not capable of taking care of.

Swallowing more bile, Flash looked at his surroundings for the first time since he'd been flung out the way of the careening car, paling as he saw the vehicle had crashed straight into a lamppost. White steam billowed out the shattered hood—hopefully a damaged radiator and nothing worse.

There are people in that car.

"No shit," Flash muttered, staggering to his feet. "Someone said they were calling paramedics."

In fact, he could already hear sirens wailing from down the street. If he wanted to, Flash could just leave, not bother giving his statement. He might even make it to the park with a minute to spare.

After a pause, Flash sighed, muttering a curse under his breath. "Sorry, MJ."

Flash ran over to the wrecked car, relieved to neither see nor smell smoke coming from under the hood. There weren't any sparks, either, so he moved down to the driver's side and was immediately met with the pungent, sickly sweet scent of whiskey.

Flash gagged and nearly doubled over, but he managed to keep himself upright with an iron grip on the top of the car. The crunch of metal that followed his clenching fingers caused him to glance upward—

Oh, God.

That wasn't his hand anymore.

It is our hand, Flash.

Flash tried to ignore Venom, though the adrenaline coursing through his veins had only seemed to amplify his sensitivity to his surroundings.

The driver groaned, the purple bags beneath his eyes making for an awful contrast against his pale skin. Though the overwhelming smell of alcohol meant Flash would prefer to knock this guy's lights out for drinking and driving, perhaps the consequences of his own actions would be punishment enough.

A choked gurgle from the backseat snapped Flash's attention away from the driver's slow journey to regaining consciousness, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

She was young. Maybe 5, maybe 6, with her seatbelt pressed across her neck like the world's most dangerous jewelry—small, she was far too small to have been sitting without a car seat. Another muted cough escaped her lips as her head lolled forward, revealing a gushing cut across her scalp.

Scarlet blood had already started matting her tight black curls.

They needed to get her out of there.

Copy that.

With superhuman strength and a familiar darkness travelling up his arms, Flash tore off the rear door and cast it aside. In a matter of seconds, Venom had retreated, and with shaking hands—his own hands—Flash unbuckled the child's seatbelt.

Moving her is just as dangerous, Flash.

Flash swallowed hard. "I know. I know."

Another nauseating cross between a cough and a gag slipped out her mouth, the heaving of her small chest betraying the tranquility of her silence.

Choking.

Choking on her own blood.

Paramedics are pulling up now.

Well, that sealed the deal.

With all the caution he could muster, Flash slipped his arms beneath the girl's back and legs and pulled her out the damaged vehicle, holding her like glass as he took her over to where paramedics had just jumped out of the ambulance.

"She was in the backseat," Flash said, trying to keep the panic out his voice as he handed her fragile body to a bright-eyed paramedic that immediately began barking orders. "Her seatbelt—Her seatbelt was pressed against her neck, and she was choking, maybe some kind of bleeding in her throat—"

"Don't worry, sir," another paramedic said, gently pulling Flash away from the stretcher the child was being laid across. "We'll take care of her. Are you family?"

"I"—Flash shook his head—"no. No, not family."

The paramedic nodded. "Concerned citizen. Hard to find those, some days."

A strangled laugh escaped Flash's lips. "I was—I was walking, and the car just—it flew off the sidewalk, almost hit me. I went to"—he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart—"I checked on the driver, afterwards, and that was when I saw her in the backseat."

"Got it. Look, I'm gonna have someone examine you. We'll want—"

They didn't have a chance to tell Flash what, exactly, they wanted before a series of gunshots rang out and the two of them dropped flat to the concrete.

"Give me back my fucking kid!"

Keeping low, Flash tilted his head to see the driver had stumbled out of his car and was waving around some kind of handgun. To the left, Flash saw that the woman who'd first checked on him after the crash had crumpled to the ground, white concrete turning red around her right shoulder.

Anger blazed like hellfire in his chest.

"Sir," said the bright-eyed paramedic who'd been the one to take the girl from Flash, "we are trying to treat your daughter. To save her. I need you to put the gun away."

"Shut up," the man spat. He pointed the gun at the paramedic, and though a drunken unsteadiness permeated his entire being, there was no doubt he'd hit something, someone if he fired again. "Give me my kid, or I'll shoot you like I shot my bitch-ass wife."

Flash's fists clenched, nails digging so deeply into his palms he could feel hot blood begin to trickle down.

The paramedic didn't waver. "I can't do that, sir."

Flash saw the man's finger tighten on the trigger.

"No!" Flash shouted, and when he pushed himself to his feet, his left arm jerked outward to catch the deadly barrage with a wall of…

Venom, Flash realized, distantly registering horrified screams as the black tendril that emerged from his arm flung the bullets aside before retreating back into his chest.

No. Not into his chest.

Over his chest.

When Flash looked down, the ground was several feet further away than it normally was, and a supernatural energy flooded his body as Venom took the reins.

Finally, Venom hissed, delighted, his fingers curling into fists at his—at their sides. Do you see it now, Flash? This is true symbiosis!

All Flash saw was the drunken man that still loomed before them.

"She could've died," he snarled. "He could have killed her."

Panic flooded the man's face as Venom took a threatening step toward him. He raised his gun to fire wildly, but Venom had torn it from his grasp in a matter of seconds, throwing the weapon aside with such force it shattered a neighboring store's window.

Flash distantly registered that another paramedic had taken advantage of the chaos to run over and tend to the woman who'd taken a stray bullet to the shoulder. They'd gotten her sitting up, and she was breathing weakly, shallowly, but breathing all the same.

The smell.

Whiskey, acrid and sugary sweet, a fog that suffocated Flash from the inside out.

You could have killed her, Flash repeated, their voice unrecognizable yet so impossibly familiar, and with a single swipe they'd grabbed the man by the front of his bloodied shirt and held him up like a toy.

"I'm—I'm sorry," the man gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't hurt me—"

Flash laughed, or maybe it was Venom, and a slick tongue emerged from their mouth to clean the man's face of the streaks of sticky salt.

Eyes, Venom crooned, lungs, pancreas. So many snacks, so little time.

Their mouth opened impossibly wide, acidic saliva dripping down from dozens of teeth, but snapped shut over empty air as a thwip yanked the man from their grasp.

"Sorry, big guy," Spider-Man said, giving Venom a two-finger salute as he webbed the drunk driver to a nearby wall. "As despicable as this man is, I have a strict no-killing policy. No exceptions, not even for someone as tall, dark, and handsome as yourself."

Spider-Man, Venom snarled, concrete cracking beneath his feet as he slowly approached the hero.

Spider-Man tilted his head. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

Venom's body tensed like a snake coiling to strike. Not exactly.

"Oh, good. I like to think I would remember someone of your impressive stature and charming looks."

I would have preferred an easy meal tonight, Venom growled, but I suppose you are an acceptable substitution.

He lunged for Spider-Man, but the hero webbed himself upward to land on top of the lamppost.

"Hey, let's try to talk this out! I'm a reasonable guy—what do you say I treat you to dinner instead? I know a mean sub shop only a few blocks from here."

Venom knocked off the head of the lamppost in one clean swipe, but by then Spider-Man had already swung himself to higher ground.

"Come on, I know you can do better than that!"

"Stop!" Flash shouted as Venom made another lunge for the hero. "Stop, now!"

This puny bug deserves to be squished! Venom roared, and Flash shook his head, chest tight as he at last caught sight of his—no, their, their reflection in the window of a store.

"No! Don't touch him. Don't."

Spider-Man stiffened. "Flash…?"

Ah, fucking Spider-Man and his fucking superhearing.

Venom paused. He knows you?

"Get us out of here," was Flash's response. "Get us out of here, now!"

With a final glance toward Spider-Man, Venom took to the rooftops, jumping between buildings with practiced ease as the scene of the accident gradually became nothing more than a blip in the cityscape behind them.

After several minutes of nonstop charging, Venom dropped down into the corner of an empty alley, tucked away where not even the most keen-eyed of passersby would notice them. When Flash stood up and pressed his back against the brick wall, it was his back again, not a single tendril of Venom in sight.

"Oh my God," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in his hands. "Fuck!"

Venom was smart enough to stay silent as Flash worked through his panic. He dropped his hands and forced his eyes open—

Five things he could see.

A dumpster to his right. His own palms, shaking. A cat observing him with sleepy curiosity. The wall. Up above, the pink and orange sky of a setting sun.

Four things he could feel.

The concrete beneath him. Sweat on his hands. His shirt, torn. The denim of his jeans.

Three things he could hear.

His own breathing, starting to slow. The cat's chirp at his distracted attention. Traffic and pedestrians, muted but there all the same.

Two things he could smell.

Garbage. Mildew.

One thing he could taste.

Copper, the cut on his tongue reopened.

Flash took a deep breath, his shoulders falling as he collapsed against the wall and slid into a pseudo sitting position. "You were… We almost…"

How does Spider-Man know you?

Flash barked a laugh. "He stole my car once. I used to run a fanpage. Guess he's got a good memory."

Venom wasn't convinced by his explanation, Flash could tell, but Spider-Man was not the conversation they needed to be having right now. Not when—

"We could have hurt someone," Flash said.

Don't be ridiculous. I had everything under control.

"You were going to eat him! The driver!"

And? You were not going to stop me.

"I know!" Flash snapped. He took a deep breath, eyes closing as he leaned back against the cold brick wall. "I know."

That was exactly what terrified him.

xXx

oh my… :)