Spiderman: Venom

MJ woke up in an unfamiliar room. The curtains hadn't been fully closed, allowing a faint sliver of light to sneak through. She groaned softly as the light dragged her out of sleep.

She felt warmth beside her, and the tranquil comfort she had been enjoying quickly transformed into sheer panic.

She remembered that Peter had stayed the night, but at some point, she had pulled the blanket over him, and they had ended up snuggling even closer. Now, though, it was something more.

She was facing him, and his hand had wandered beneath her top, resting softly against her chest. Not that she was innocent in this. The arm pressed between them had slipped into his pants, and her hand was wrapped around a hardening part of him—his hardening part.

Shit! she thought as she carefully moved her hand away. Peter let out a quiet sigh in his sleep.

"We can't, Gwen. MJ is here," he murmured, giving her breast a gentle squeeze. As he lowered his hand, it brushed against her very aroused nipple.

Stupid idiot, Parker. Why'd you have to date her?

If Peter woke up right now and asked her for more, she knew she'd say yes.

If Peter woke up right now and told her he loved her, she'd cry tears of joy and tell him the same.

She had her childhood best friend back—the one person who had never abandoned her—and in this moment, this was the closest they were ever likely to get.

And it sucks, MJ thought, not because she hated it, but because she desperately wanted them to be more.

MJ was grateful Peter had stayed to take care of her. She had found comfort in his presence. He was the unwavering support she had so badly needed, and even after everything that had happened the night before, she wished she could stay in this moment just a little longer.

She shifted away from him, letting his hand fall free. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry, I need to, uh..." she stammered, quickly gathering her clothes and heading for the door.

"It's fine," Peter said as he sat up and stretched. "But we should get to the hospital. I need to check on Gwen." He flipped his phone over to check it, seeing several missed calls and texts from Aunt May and Captain Stacy.

His aunt's messages were filled with worry, but George's were borderline hostile. Peter frowned as he deleted them all.

"Uh, Gwen's dad is furious," he muttered. "I need to go see her." Then he paused, realizing he was sporting a rather noticeable erection.

MJ hesitated as she checked her own phone. Her expression soured when she saw her messages.

"Yeah," she muttered, looking guilty. "Flash is the same—a ton of texts asking where I was."

Peter shrugged. "Last night was tough on everyone, MJ—not just Flash and Gwen."

MJ glanced at her phone again, still looking guilty. "Yeah."

Peter stood and stretched, and MJ couldn't help but stare as his toned stomach came into view. "Can I?" he asked, gesturing toward the sink.

MJ nodded and watched as he turned on the hot water.

Get a grip, MJ. Seriously.

He could have gone home, but he wanted to freshen up and get to the hospital as soon as possible.

He splashed water into the sink. It wasn't as refreshing as a shower, but it would have to do for now.

And cold, he thought, stripping off his T-shirt and wiping himself down with a damp cloth.

Faint memories of teasing Gwen like this surfaced, and he couldn't help but smile. He knew MJ was watching—he could even hear her heartbeat quicken.

Damn it, Pete, stop being such a jerk.

Gwen was lying in a hospital bed, and here he was, messing around with MJ.

Peter had missed this, though. MJ was finally acting like her old self again—smiling, lively, and fun to be around. When she was with Flash, it was clear something was wrong. Her smile wasn't real; it was a fake, plastic grin that fooled everyone else but him. Peter despised Flash—not for wrecking his own life, but for whatever damage he must have done to MJ.

MJ stood frozen, staring in disbelief as Peter casually peeled off his shirt right in front of her. What shocked her even more, though, was the network of bruises across his back—large blotches of green and black that spread across his muscular frame.

Without thinking, she reached out and ran her fingers along his back, tracing the lines of his ribs and spine.

"Uh, MJ?" Peter's voice startled her, snapping her back to reality.

"Oh, crap, uh, crap, sorry. You, um... yeah, bruises. You've got some massive bruises on your back." Peter hadn't turned around, but MJ was frantically looking for a distraction to prevent him from noticing the heat rising in her blushing face.

Damn him, she thought bitterly. Why did I have to be so stupid?

They hadn't spoken much recently. Flash's disapproval of Peter had always been obvious, but that hadn't stopped her from talking about him to Gwen. She still cared about how he was doing, and now, after seeing him like this, she was painfully aware she still had feelings for him.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the moment. She checked the screen and frowned. "It's Harrison. He wants to know if I'm going to the hospital."

Stepping back, she started typing a reply. "I'm heading out, Pete. It's, uh, yeah, not a good idea if we show up together. Sorry, sorry," she mumbled hastily, grabbing her jacket and bag before practically sprinting for the door.

Peter stood there, watching her retreat like a startled mouse fleeing a predator. Smirking slightly to himself, he slipped on a T-shirt and a button-up shirt.

He knew Flash was injured and that ending things now would be terrible timing. But from the way MJ had looked at him—and the expression on her face when they'd woken up—he was convinced something had happened between them during the night.

He might have felt guilty about it if Flash weren't such a colossal jerk, but Peter fully intended to drive a wedge between them. Flash wouldn't be welcome here, and Peter would make sure he stayed far away.

The guy deserved it. The only redeeming thing about him—the one act that kept Peter from outright hating him—was that he had saved MJ by pushing her out of harm's way. That small act of decency might have been his salvation, but even so, Peter didn't think Flash deserved MJ.

But then, Gwen didn't deserve this either. No matter how much MJ's return had shaken things up, no matter how clearly MJ's feelings for him showed, and no matter how close they might get, Gwen was still his girlfriend. He wouldn't cheat on her.

Peter didn't like waiting, but MJ had already left. After making sure the warehouse was secure, he called for a taxi. As he waited, he texted Aunt May to let her know he'd be visiting Gwen at the hospital.

Gwen's doctor had cleared her with a clean bill of health—she was only sleeping, not in a coma. But that didn't stop George Stacy from unloading his anger on Peter.

"Why was she still in there? You should have made sure everyone was out as soon as the fighting started! You said you were responsible—well, you are! For all of this mess. I trusted you, Peter. I let Gwen go out, and now look at what's happened!" George shouted furiously. "And if you were in the bathroom, why didn't you call 911 when the gang showed up?"

Peter had no answers for him, but the relentless scolding was wearing on his nerves. A part of him wanted to let Venom take control—slam George into a wall and roar in rage at the situation.

Aunt May's timely arrival diffused the tension. "How dare you yell at someone so soon after an accident!" she exclaimed, stepping between Peter and George. "How dare you berate him for not standing up to four grown men!"

George and the hospital staff stared in stunned silence as the petite, kind-looking woman tore into him.

"You might be the commissioner, but that doesn't give you the right to abuse a young man," she scolded, poking his chest with her finger.

Peter, meanwhile, was lost in his thoughts. Four supervillains—four—had appeared, and his carelessness had put Gwen in danger. His choices had nearly gotten her killed. If only he had been... If only he had... Peter felt a wave of emotion surge through him, extinguishing his anger and leaving him in tears.

A passing nurse noticed and shone a penlight into his eyes, though he barely registered it. "Shock," she stated simply. She wrote something on a label, handed Aunt May a small bottle of pills, and walked away.

The bottle contained half a dozen tiny pills along with a note:

If he can't sleep, take one with warm milk. 20mg Diazepam.

No name was listed on the bottle, but May instantly recognized the medication. She had taken it herself after Ben's death. The nurse must have understood what the kids had endured, and seeing that Peter didn't have insurance, had decided to help out of compassion.

"A menace, I tell you. This Venom character storms into a hostage situation, causing immense destruction, and for what? One brave barista loses their life, cut down in their prime, while these super-menaces tear apart a bank!" J. Jonah Jameson's voice blared loudly from a nearby TV. "I, J. Jonah Jameson, urge all my loyal viewers: if you see Venom, if you hear anything about Venom, report it! The DailyBugle.com will pay for any information leading to the capture of that black-costumed freak!"

The word freak yanked Peter back to the present. He knew he had been reckless. He knew he hadn't been careful enough. If he wanted to make sure this never happened again, he needed to be more vigilant.

Sitting next to Aunt May, he squeezed her hand. "Can I, uh, stay with you tonight, May? I know Gwen—"

May interrupted him gently. "It's okay, Peter. Take all the time you need."

Peter exhaled deeply. "Thanks, Aunt May," he said, leaning in to embrace her.

Those bastards will pay. He would find them, and they would suffer—not just for his arm, but for what they'd done to Gwen, too.

"Is MJ okay?" May asked suddenly, her eyes fixed on his hand, her expression concerned.

"Um, yeah, Aunt May. MJ's fine, but, uh, Flash... Flash was trapped under the rubble, too. I think MJ said he's here, but I'm not sure where exactly." Peter couldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't really care about Flash's condition. For now, it was best to play along.

The small group gathered, waiting for updates.

Gwen had spent the night under observation but was now being discharged. MJ had sent a quick message saying Harrison wanted her to stay with Flash.

Gwen's injuries were minimal. The hospital staff had cleaned her wound, bandaged it, and declared her in good health.

George Stacy shot Peter a hostile glare as they all walked together to the taxi rank. Aunt May kept a fragile truce between them with pointed looks. Gwen was relieved—she wasn't sure she could hold her tongue much longer. She knew Peter had saved her, and her father needed to acknowledge that.

Feeling better, Gwen sent MJ a text. Although the reply wasn't immediate, it came quickly enough. "Uh, Flash," Gwen murmured. "He lost his leg. The broken one was crushed by rubble, and they couldn't save it. He was trapped for too long." She repeated the message numbly while Aunt May gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

Peter stepped forward, intending to hug Gwen, but her father intercepted him, wrapping his arms protectively around her instead. Gwen didn't mention that Flash's leg had already been fractured before the incident.

"Maybe you should focus on your own family, Peter. Spend time with your aunt and leave Gwen to me," George said curtly.

"Gwen's my girlfriend, sir, and MJ is my friend. Maybe she needs support from a different kind of family right now," Peter snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"Listen here, you little punk," George hissed. "If you'd been paying attention like you should've, and not behaving like a reckless delinquent, Gwen wouldn't have been hurt. This is your fault!" He pushed Gwen behind him and gestured angrily at Peter as he ranted.

"Sir, I saved Gwen. I pulled her under a table when the debris started falling." Peter shrugged off his jacket and lifted his shirt to reveal the massive bruises covering his back. "This—this is from shielding her from the rubble. I'm sorry I'm not invincible. I'm sorry a crime happened and somehow that's my fault. But don't you dare yell at me for saving your daughter, you ungrateful asshole!"

Peter's fury rose, threatening to explode, but Aunt May's cool hand rested on his shoulder, extinguishing the fire inside him. He paused, patted her hand, and lowered his head.

"Sorry, Aunt May. I'm sorry," he muttered softly.

It was Gwen who stepped forward to defend him. She pushed past her father, tugged Peter's shirt back into place, and handed him his jacket. "Take me home, Pete," she said firmly. "Dad, I'll text you later. Go home and calm down."

"But, Gwen, sweetheart, you just got out of the hospital and—" George stammered.

"No, Dad. Not today. No arguments." Gwen's tone was unwavering. "Peter, call a cab for your aunt and another for us."

Peter hesitated, glancing uneasily at George. "Now!" Gwen snapped, and Peter flinched but obeyed, taking Aunt May's arm and helping her into a taxi.

The ride back to the warehouse was silent. Gwen's knuckles were pale as she clenched her hands together, and Peter couldn't figure out why she seemed so angry. Did she know it was him who had dragged her under the table? Did she know he was Venom?

When the taxi left, Gwen stormed into the warehouse without a word, leaving Peter to lock the door behind them.

She turned on him, raising a finger and glaring intensely. Peter froze in the doorway, uncertain where her fury was coming from.

Without a word, Gwen began to undress. She stripped off her slacks, standing before him completely bare. Peter gulped nervously.

"Don't even think about it, you bastard. You've got some serious explaining to do."

Before Peter could respond, black liquid began to flow over Gwen's body, coating her in a latex-like suit almost identical to his.

When the transformation was complete, Gwen stood before him in a suit strikingly similar to his own.

The black material covered her body up to her chest, where it transitioned to white. A pink diamond-shaped patch with a web design extended from under her arms to her wrists.

Her mask was different, though. The smooth, featureless black mask mirrored Peter's Venom symbskin, but her eyes were outlined in pink, and a white hood draped over her head.

Peter stood there, speechless, as her mouth split into a wide, monstrous grin.

"WE ARE ANGRY WITH YOU, PETER!" she bellowed.