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The last time Tony had been in San Francisco, he and Eddie had gone on a pub crawl, sampling not beer or whiskey, but onion rings. Tony had been determined to find the best god damned pub rings in the city, and Eddie had laughingly tagged along.
Some five hours later, groaning from too much grease and fried dough, they’d gone back to Eddie’s apartment and made out until they’d fallen asleep in the middle of necking. Tony had woken up with a stomach ache, a horrible crick in his neck from sleeping slumped over on top of Eddie on the couch, the worst morning breath of his entire life, and absolutely no regrets.
He knew why Eddie’d had to leave New York, and he understood, but he kind of wished it hadn’t been necessary. Eddie was fun, challenged Tony’s assumptions about things, and understood completely about the kind of schedule Tony had to keep and the reasons he couldn’t commit to being a boyfriend. What they had was good. It was enough.
It had been more than half a year since Tony’d had an excuse to go to San Francisco, and he was looking forward to meeting up with Eddie. Maybe hooking up, if they could make their schedules match up.
He wasn’t expecting Eddie to meet him at the airport, but there he was, leaning against the wall as Tony’s private jet touched down. Tony wasn’t sure how he’d gotten past TSA or security, but he didn’t ask, either.
“You… uh, you look good, Tony,” Eddie said. “Came on my bike, thought you might want a ride?”
Eddie paused, tipping his head to one side, his eyes glazing a little bit, as if he was listening to a phone conversation, before he shook it off and gave Tony a wide grin. Eddie was nothing like most of Tony’s partners, scruffy and wearing a shlubby hoodie. He had a bike helmet in one hand, but pulled Tony in for a quick embrace with the other.
Tony grinned back and swung his leg over the bike, snuggling up against Eddie’s back suggestively. “Got a bitch helmet for me?”
“This one is for you, I don’t, uh… I don’t wear one anymore,” Eddie said. He handed over the brain bucket to Tony and then kicked the bike to life. The motor roared and the whole thing buzzed like an overgrown vibrator between Tony’s thighs.
Tony pulled on the helmet. “Your funeral,” he said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the growl of the bike. “I heard they were cracking down on helmetless riders, though. How are you not swimming in tickets?”
“Gotta get caught to get a ticket,” Eddie said, and with that, he gunned the motor and they peeled out of the airport, leaving a very angry Happy behind waving Tony’s suitcase at them. “Long story, lemme take you-- uh, someplace special. And I’ll… I got some stuff to tell you that you won’t believe.”
Tony laughed. “I was fighting off shapechanging aliens in Chicago last week; what’ve you got to top that?”
“Challenge accepted,” Eddie said. He was pushing the bike well past the original engine’s capabilities, and not at all safe for the hilly roads and narrow pavement of the city, but Eddie never faltered. It was like flying in the armor, only… more. And lower to the ground. It was all but impossible to stifle a whoop of excitement.
Eddie took them out of the city and up through a suburban neighborhood, still topping well over ninety, and then skidded to a sudden stop at the very edge of a cliff that overlooked San Francisco's famous bridge.
“Pretty up here,” Eddie said, casually, slinging himself off the bike.
Tony was still thrumming from the ride as he joined Eddie at the edge of the cliff, the helmet dangling casually from his fingertips. He looked out over the water. “Nice,” he agreed. He cast a sidelong look at Eddie, who was shuffling around a little, which usually heralded a case of nerves. Tony looked back out at the view, willing to wait for it, whatever it was.
“So, you were dealing with shapeshifting aliens, huh?” Eddie asked. “You ever… deal with any that aren’t bad guys? I mean, not benevolent, or nothing, but maybe, just normal everyday asshole aliens?”
“Oh, sure,” Tony said. “I mean, Thor just for starters, and the rest of the Asgardians. And there’s the Guardians of the Galaxy, they’re an okay bunch, most of the time.”
“So, uh, if I mighta had, well, a close encounter, that’s… it’s not a deal-breaker, you know? With us?” Eddie was wringing his knuckles together hard enough that his skin was white. White, and perfect. Hadn’t… hadn’t Eddie had scars on his hands, from where he’d gotten into a fist-fight with a plate glass window and lost?
“I... wouldn’t think so,” Tony said cautiously. “Who did you run into? The Kree?” They had weird healing abilities, Tony thought.
“They call themselves Klyntar,” Eddie said. “They’re… um. A little difficult to describe, and unfortunately -- oh, would you just--” Eddie’s eyes did something weird, and they were suddenly jet black, sclera, iris, pupil and all. We want to say hello.
Tony didn’t hear that so much with his ears as sort of feel it in his skull, loud and aggressive and eager.
“Oh, shit!” Tony took a step back, startled, then paused and leaned in again, looking closely. “That’s... It’s... In you?”
We are together. One of Eddie’s eyes went back to normal, rich sapphire blue. “Will you let me do th’ talking, Vee, come on, man, we had a plan, can we not just stick to the plan?”
He is very small. That black, almost oily color oozed out from Eddie’s eyes until it covered most of his face, and then-- Eddie grew, tall, taller, impossibly… not quite as tall as the Hulk, but certainly huge, with gnarled, massive limbs and… fucking claws, and goddamn teeth--
Tony flicked his hand to the side and a gauntlet formed. He aimed it at the... thing. Klyntar. Vee. Whatever it was called. “What the fuck-- What did you do to Eddie?”
The enormous clawed hand reached for Tony’s gauntlet. What is it? This-- he? It? Whatever. Grabbed Tony’s wrist and pulled the gauntlet (and Tony practically up onto his toes) up to examine it closely. Is this a weapon?
“Buddy, you’re going to find out just how much of a weapon it is if you don’t let Eddie go,” Tony snapped. He wrenched his arm around until he was aiming right into those dagger-like teeth.
“Woah, woah,” and the face, that monstrous thing, fucking unzipped and Eddie pushed his way out. “No shooting, no… Vee, love, come on, let’s all calm down and talk about this--” Eddie’s shoulders came out of the Klyntar and he balled it up until he was cuddling a little fanged oil slick about the size of a cat. “Let’s just all take a few deep breaths and calm down.”
Eddie demonstrated the calming breaths, sounding like some sort of bad victorian heroine who was about to need a fainting couch.
Tony looked at him dubiously. “You’re okay?” He looked at the thing in Eddie’s arms, and then back at Eddie’s face, suppressing the urge to pat him down and check for injuries. “Jesus Christ, I thought it ate you.”
We wouldn’t eat Eddie, the goo confided. Eddie is ours.
“Tony, this is Venom. Venom, Tony,” Eddie said. “I’d say not to worry, that his bark is worse than his bite, but it’s really, really not.”
“You’re... friends,” Tony said. Venom (and there was a name that didn’t inspire trust) oozed up Eddie’s arm and draped around his neck like a scarf with slitted opal eyes at one end.
The whole thing suddenly seemed utterly absurd, and Tony let out a bark of not-quite-hysterical laughter. “Only you, Eddie. Only you.”
“Unfortunately, not only me,” Eddie said, stroking the little alien gently, and it purred/rumbled under Eddie’s caress. “And, uh, they’re not all as, uh--”
Protective. We will protect Eddie. From Carnage. From Riot. From anyone!
The little alien stretched and snapped like a rubber band, lifting up Eddie’s bike with arms that formed out of nothingness, apparently planning to chuck it in the bay to express its anger.
“Not the bike, Vee!”
Venom hesitated, holding the bike aloft over their heads. Sorry. Venom gently lowered the bike back to the ground and then patted it for good measure.
“...Damn, you’re strong for a little thing,” Tony said.
“So, if… uh, you and Venom are good with getting along, I thought we might do another pub crawl? Venom’s quite the connoisseur of tater tots and french fries?”
“Well. I guess any alien that eats fried potatoes can’t be all bad.”