Spider-Man. The House Of Venom

Eddie stretched in the morning, tired from being out as Spider-Man and having to work early in the day. JJ’s work ethic was definitely the early worm gets the story. As crime didn't wait for clocking in time, neither should his reporters.

Yesterday had been almost a disaster. He knew he was at fault for dragging the drones into the crowd, but he hadn't expected them to open fire on civilians. After making sure everyone was fine, he headed home, miserable and angry. 

He was uninjured by the time he'd showered and changed but his suit was ruined. Soaking wet the paper had mashed itself into a sodden mess, and he had spent most of the night picking it from his suit.

Thankfully, with the pictures and video that Eddie had been producing he was now a staff reporter. Decent enough wages meant he could move into a decent studio apartment. It was small but it was his. It also gave him privacy, enough that he didn't have to worry about outing himself, but a girlfriend would be nice.

After leaving San Francisco when a relationship didn’t just end but explode, he was hesitant to start. Although Betty did smile at him a few times, and not just the normal ‘get the hell out of my office’ smile but an actual smile. Maybe once he settled into a better routine he could ask her out for a drink.

His first piece was on the incident. The emergency services hadn't taken long to arrive, but he helped where he could. He’d spent most of his night helping people suffering from tear gas exposure. It had gone a long way to show people that he wasn't a menace as JJ called him.

He leant back and wondered if Venom had been attacked at the same time. There was some property damage high up, and reports of a loud explosion. While he could theorise that it was a drone attack, he had no proof. So he wrote out what he could, linked the two with supposition and sent it for edit.

His next piece was another one on the exploits of Venom. He had begun to patrol more, managing to avoid the police and even Spider-Man had been hard-pressed to find him.

Eddie leant back forwards and started typing again. He knew JJ didn’t mind. He always said work was ninety-nine per cent perspiration, one per cent inspiration. When it came to JJ, he definitely liked to make his workers perspire.

He had just finished his editorial piece on the latest Venom incident.

A mugger had been found, once again, brutalised and unconscious. It looked like a normal Venom attack but once the police were involved it got a bit more complicated.

He was out on parole for domestic abuse. The police were already on their way when Venom caught him hitting his girlfriend. She must have told him, as Venom proceeded to break the guy's jaw and both hands.

He missed out the part where the guy came back with priors for domestic abuse. He had to.

JJ wanted Venom painted as a criminal.

It didn’t matter the guy had a warrant out for his arrest, prior possession, violent assault, and drug charges. Venom had beaten him, stolen the loose cash he had and left him for the cops to clean up. He shook his head and his fingers trembled as they hovered over the keyboard.

“Writer's block?” a sweet voice asked and as Eddie smiled he looked and there she was, Betty Brant.

She had nice wavy black hair that flowed down her neck like a waterfall. He tried not to stare at her figure which filled out the dress and blouse she always wore very nicely. Even in black flats, her calves were shapely and Eddie admired the view on more than one occasion. Today though she was concerned,

“Yeah, uh, domestic, even if Venom broke the guy's jaw. He deserved it at least a bit, but can't write that, “

Betty hmphed. “You should, guys like that get away with murder. She was lucky.” Eddie nodded, “but never seen you so shaken though, what’s got you upset?” Betty asked as she sat on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs. It tugged at her skirt and Eddie had to look away as a very toned thigh slid out from under it.

Is she flirting? he shook his head, Nah, she can't be.

“Oh, just, some cases bring back bad memories, this one, my uh dad, yeah, “ and he shook his head. “Yeah, unhappy childhood. Seems like that's going around a lot huh?”

Betty placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, it's okay. A lot of people have stories like that, a lot of people don't talk about it, it's fine.” She gave him that smile again and he patted her hand,

“Thanks though, but uh, better get back to work before JJ sees us, might get docked for an unofficial break,”

She laughed, “On my way to him now. Proofreading and editing, it's a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.”

Eddie snorted. He hated proofreading and editing and was always glad he could send it off for someone else to do it. Judging from the pile of printouts Betty was carrying, so did a lot of others.

“Not just?” and he motioned to the pile,

“JJ hates digital. He’s still a hardcopy guy.” She smirked. “Well, back to the grind.”

As she walked away Eddie wasn't sure, but he could swear she was wiggling her ass a bit more than normal.

As he leaned back to think about what she and he clasped his hand on top of his head. Maybe that guy did deserve what Venom did, but he wouldn't learn anything. He would see that and not the crime he committed.

He wouldn't learn. Only the time in jail and a sentence would teach him. Eddie knew from experience that physical punishment never taught anything except hate. As he leaned forwards his fingers touched the keys and he began to write his article.

⁂

At the end of the long day, Eddie walked back to his studio apartment. It was small as New York was expensive. The one-room was a reminder that even good-paying jobs in New York meant living a frugal lifestyle.

Most days he just flopped down onto his couch bed, slept for a few hours and then went out as Spider-Man. Housework was left until it got really bad, or in most cases, he ran out of clean underwear.

Setting his kettle on and pulling an instant cup noodle out of his cupboard Eddie waited. He bent over with his head resting on the kitchen counter as the kettle boiled. It wasn't a great dinner but it was cheap. Since the incident, he needed more food. With a limited budget, it was cheap noodles and frozen vegetables. He was just managing but after yesterday he didn't feel like cooking. Sighing again, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and flicked on the TV to watch while he ate.

He had folded the lid over and grabbed a cleanish fork from the pile when there was a knock at the door. Peering through the spy hole, it was Betty.

“Hey Eddie you left early so I never got to see you,” she spoke through the chained door,

“Uh, give me a moment?” and he closed it on her. She could hear the scrambled thumping as he was tidying up. Holding back a giggle, she shook her head and smiled. Eventually, a flustered and red Eddie opened the door. “Uh, come in.”

Betty had to stifle a laugh. Eddie had thrown dirty plates and crockery in the sink and hidden them under a now wet dishcloth. Clothes were thrown in a hamper and she caught a glimpse of a bright red onesie, barely hidden under some socks. “Uh, yeah, I, eh, it's laundry day.” Eddie grabbed the hamper and slid it into the kitchen where she couldn't see it.

His place was a studio, so the kitchen was a double counter. One against the wall with the small stove on it and another, only a few feet away leaning into the living room. A couch had been pushed against it and as there seemed to be no bed, she guessed it pulled out.

“So, uh, sit.” Eddie pulled a pillow out from the couch and made space for her. “Uh, so, yeah, what brings you here?” he asked, inwardly groaning at his stupid stiffness. It wasn't like he’d never talked to a woman before.

She shook her head and smiled, “Are you gay?” and Eddie took a second before scrunching his face and muttering,

“Huh?” now he was really confused, “why? Uh, why? why would you ask that?”

“Because I flirted, I dropped hints, I shook my ass, and I'm not even wearing a bra. I did everything those stupid articles said and not once did you look at me, not one date, or complement. So, are you gay? Am I wasting my time here?” She stated as she stared at him.

Of course, as she mentioned it Eddie looked down. It was chilly in New York and while Betty was wearing a coat she had unzipped it and he could now see she was right. Normally it would be a stylish floral pattern blouse. Out of the warm jacket, her nipples crinkled in the cold air and poked through the fabric.

Betty looked down and clutched her coat shut, “Oh my god, Eddie,” and she turned from him, “I said gay, not stare.”

Eddie stared a the ceiling, muttering, “nope. Definitely not gay.”

As Betty composed herself, “I can see that, so why? I mean, if you don't like me then why the interest, why the signals? I asked the rest of the staff, no girlfriend and no ring, so, I mean, why?”

Betty was tired of being alone in New York. The dating scene for people her age was either divorcees or widowers. Worse were the players who couldn't handle a relationship and were only after one thing. One-night stands with disappointing sex and even more disappointing excuses. She had taken Eddie's friendliness as charming and hoped he would want more, but well, here they were.

“I uh,” and Eddie sighed, “I’m dumb?” was all he said.

Betty laughed. “So? Do we do this?” He nodded. “Good. Pants off. I'm not wasting ten dinners when I know I like you."

As Eddie unzipped and she saw the bulge in his boxers. Betty's little show was enough he was trying his best to hide his erection.

Holy shit, she thought to herself, happy birthday to me.

Betty unzipped her coat again and stripped out of her blouse. “Now you can look.”

⁂

The rest of Eddie's evening was a whole lot better than he had ever imagined.

In the morning Eddie woke feeling better than he had in months. Since the incident in fact. As he looked over at the sleeping form of Betty he made two promises.

The first was to stop being so hesitant. Last night he took a chance and now a very attractive woman had invited herself into his life.

The second was to get a new bed, as the sex had been amazing but uncomfortable on the couch. They had still managed though, several times, until Betty gave in. Being Spider-Man did have some advantages.

Shit, he thought, costume.

He gently crept out of bed and over to the kitchen. To mask any notice he filled and switched on the coffee pot. Making sure Betty was still asleep he slid the laundry basket out. Grabbing a trash bag, he slid the red suit into it and tied it. Hiding it behind the basket and sliding it back under the sink. He would deal with that later properly but as long as Betty didn't see it it would be fine.

Looking around his apartment, he realised he needed to spruce the place up as well. He had been living here for over 6 months but had never done anything, treating it like a temporary thing.

Even with better wages, he would be here a while. If Betty was going to visit, first would be better furniture. Then pictures and a few nik-naks would make it seem more homely. Lastly, if he was having company over more often a lockable box to keep his outfits in.

He could even afford a better costume. Right now, he had been wearing a double onesie, thin, and enough to cover his identity. It was red and the second blue, the cheapest he could find and had been hastily stitched together. He could now get something better.

He had been browsing wetsuits and found several neoprene diving suits in a similar style. He was going to stick with the red shoulders and arms with blue bodies and legs.

Decent boots would be next and then gloves but they needed to be modified. His powers meant his fingertips and feet needed to be uncovered. He had tried without but running around barefoot in New York made his skin crawl.

The next problem was the sticky webbing he shot from his wrist. His webbing was amazing but it needed an opening or it would just ooze and glue him into the suit.

Once he had everything figured out a sharpie could be used to draw on webbing.  He wanted a complete spider theme and maybe find some art online he could get for free. A small but obvious spider that would sit in the middle of his webbing.

Betty yawned and rolled over he knew it would have to wait though.

He was putting sugar in cups when he felt a hand at his groin, stroking him, "breakfast?" As he turned the hands became lips. After he finished and she wiped her lips, he pulled her up and carried her to the couch to return the favour. 

Life was looking up for Eddie Brock, New York's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.