Spider-Man - Peter-centric - PG/PG-13 - Untitled Title: None. Author: Emily (lightningrapier) Fandom: Spider-Man (3, movie-verse) Pairing: None, really. Peter-centric. Rating: Uh… PG? PG-13? If you saw the movie, you’re good to read this. :D Warnings: Spoilers for Spider-Man 3. If you haven’t seen it by now, you’re not going to. Summary: Peter reflects on his feelings about Eddie Brock Venom. Disclaimer: When I made icons of this movie, I totally made a couple of Stan Lee. Notes: This is to jog my creativity into finishing my other Spidey fic, which is far more juicy and interesting.
Peter woke in a cold sweat.
It had been the third time this week he'd had that dream.
Shivering, he pulled the blanket closer around him, listening to the indistinct chattering of the police blotter on the small table beside his bed. He glanced towards the cell phone sitting beside it and thought about calling Harry, but something stopped him. He... shouldn't. It was late, and Harry was probably asleep, anyway.
Peter climbed out of bed, moved towards the small area he called a "kitchen", and dug around in a cabinet until he found his kettle. He filled it with water and put it on the stove, then slumped back to his bed, falling against it with a sigh.
This had to stop. It was becoming... unmanagable.
Was he really that afraid of one person? Jesus. He'd done so much and helped so many people, and now he was left cowering in his apartment because of some ridiculous, paralyzing fear that didn't even make any sense.
Aunt May would probably tell Peter there was a saint they could pray to for protection. Peter thought about it. He'd never really prayed to specific saints for specific things before.
And then he thought about Eddie.
"I prayed to God to kill you, do you know that, Parker?!"
"Eddie," Peter murmured, quietly, receiting his part of the dream, "You've lost your mind."
Slumping back against the bed, Peter stared up at the ceiling. What if someone was just playing a trick on him, and Eddie wasn't even here? What if he'd spent the past, what, six months, living in a fear that was completely unfounded?
And why the hell should he be afraid, anyway?! He'd gotten rid of the damn thing, no matter how the memories of the pain it had taken haunted him. Even now, he could feel the sensation of his ribs crushing under the blows, of the tendrils of the symbiote curling around his limbs and dragging him under.
Eddie had been nothing but a jealous man angry that Peter had gotten ahead of him in life. And Peter was really allowing himself to be afraid of that?
But it was a fear he couldn't shake.
The kettle in the kitchen sounded, shaking Peter awake from the half-sleep he'd been drifting into. Standing from the bed, he grabbed a tea cup and set a tea bag inside, then poured the steaming water from the kettle in.
He took the cup to his desk to steep, sitting in the chair and listening blankly to the police blotter.
It reminded him of when he'd waited around for Flint Marko to commit a crime. Peter only kept the blotter on, he knew, to listen for any word of trouble from Eddie.
Was this obsession? Was Peter losing his mind?
All this time, and no news of Eddie had ever come. Peter had killed the symbiote, hadn't he? He hadn't wanted Eddie to go with it, but he remembered all too well that, in a true parasitic relationship, the parasite and the host became dependent on each other. Eddie had always known the symbiote for what it was -- it hadn't snuck up on him like it had on Peter. Eddie had become addicted to the power it gave him, addicted to the chance he had to destroy Spiderman with it. Of course he had chosen to die along with the parasite...
Peter stared into his cup as the water slowly got darker and darker with the tea steeping inside. He'd destroyed it. It couldn't come back. So what was he so afraid of?
"I'm being silly," he announced to his empty room. The police scanner croaked distantly in response, something Peter didn't know or care about.
Standing from the chair, Peter left the teacup on the desk and slid back into bed. He didn't even seem to notice that he'd left his drink behind. All this thought about something that had happened so long ago was weighing down his mind. Peter was thankful, for once, that he wasn't currently attached to his normal duties as Spiderman -- he could hardly be counted on in this state.
Staring up at the ceiling, Peter ran over every memory of Eddie in his mind as his eyelids slowly got heavier and heavier.
In the end, it wasn't even him Peter was afraid of.