#got double shifted in overtime so maybe he's been a little fucked this whole time. tyson is going to have a field day with this revalation.

[19871997]

.

[alocalband]

What Happens in Vegas Bennguin, 3k, Mature Also on AO3

A few of the boys are still lounging around the pool even though the party’s died down. The rest of them drunkenly found their way into Jamie’s hotel room for video games and more drinking.

Jamie is loose and content on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s the first time since the game seven double overtime loss that he hasn’t felt like throwing himself off a cliff, and he’s indulging the feeling. Drinking whatever shitty beer one of the guys hands him, watching Dicky absolutely mop the floor with Brett in Madden, letting Tyler be overly handsy and obnoxious beside him as he chirps the boys a little too loudly.

Eventually everyone breaks off to find their own fun. The sun’s still up, but they’ve been at it all day, so Jamie honestly wouldn’t mind just putting on a movie and then sleeping all the way up to their flight back tomorrow.

Tyler ends up the last one in the room with him, still sitting on the bed beside each other, as Janny determinedly heads out the door on his way to an ill-advised hookup that Tyler won’t stop falling all over himself laughing about.

Once Tyler’s able to catch his breath, he snorts and shrugs. “Well. ’What happens in Vegas,’ am I right?” he grins and takes another swig of his beer.

Jamie is just sober enough to know the next words out of his mouth are a bad idea, and just drunk enough to say them anyway. “Hey, does that mean-- Like, if I were to tell you something while we’re here, we could just leave it behind when we get back to Dallas? Just, you know, pretend I never said it?”

Tyler laughs again and nudges Jamie with his elbow, raising a crooked eyebrow. “This you asking for a free pass to rip me a new one? Go for it, man, I can take it.”

Jamie frowns. “What would I want to lay into you for?”

“I don’t know. Lack of scoring? Snagging the last beer?” He raises said beer up for emphasis, and then knocks back the rest of it.

“If I’m pissed at anyone for lack of scoring, Seggy, it’s myself.”

The change in Tyler’s expression at that is immediate, from drunken goofball to Serious Business Alternate Captain mode in .2 seconds flat. Jamie’s kind of in awe of the way the look highlights just how much Tyler’s grown up in the years since he got to Dallas.

“Hey man, we talked about this. We both had slumps. And we both did a lot of good shit too. If you start beating up on yourself again, I swear I’m gonna--”

“No, Segs, I’m not-- I’m good. You don’t have to worry.”

An easy smile tugs at Tyler’s lips as he slips right back into being pleasantly inebriated and carefree, slinging an arm around Jamie’s shoulders as if to emphasize that. “I always worry about you, Chubbs.”

He says it so casually that the words really shouldn’t make Jamie feel like he just got run into the boards.

But that breathless, helpless feeling that Tyler always manages to inspire in Jamie without even trying doesn’t excuse what Jamie does next.

“I’m gay,” he says.

Because he’s an idiot.

Tyler blinks dumbly at him for a couple seconds, and then starts to laugh.

And then abruptly stops when he sees Jamie is obviously not gonna be laughing with him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, pulling his arm off of Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie swallows thickly at the loss of its comforting weight, wondering if that’s his answer to the unspoken question of, Is that okay? Are we still good? He suddenly feels a lot more sober than he did thirty seconds ago.

“Stays in Vegas,” he reiterates, trying not to pass out in fear of how the rest of this conversation is going to go. Why the fuck did he finally say it out loud. And to Tyler of all people, the one guy it would pretty much devastate Jamie to get a bad reaction to this from.

Tyler puts both hands up, wide-eyed. “Of course! I wouldn’t-- fuck, are you actually serious right now? Chubbs, it’s been years. And you never--”

“It’s the NHL, Segs,” he interrupts. “And with the C... Obviously none of the guys can know.”

“They wouldn’t--”

“You don’t know that.”

Tyler looks down at his now empty beer bottle, picking at the peeling label for a long moment.

The prolonged silence is doing nothing to help Jamie’s looming panic attack. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, it’s fine.” It’s really not, but Jamie is used to hiding heartache. “Like I said, we’re gonna pretend this whole conversation never happened, right? Nothing has to change.”

God, he hopes nothing changes. It would fucking break him if Seggy started treating him differently because of this. Damn it, why did he open his mouth at all?

Tyler’s eyes are still downcast. But then he sighs and leans over to set the beer bottle on the night stand. When he straightens, he locks his gaze with Jamie’s, his expression almost solemn. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The question catches Jamie off guard. He frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No?”

Tyler nods once, decisive. And then leans in and kisses him.

To say Jamie is shocked would be an understatement. His whole body locks up, frozen, and his thoughts stutter to a halt. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to catalogue the feeling of Tyler’s lips on his before Tyler is pulling back with a small frown. “Shit. Did I read that wrong?”

Jamie just stares at him, unable to process what’s just happened.

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, man. I totally thought--”

“You kissed me,” Jamie manages.

Tyler looks at him like he thinks Jamie’s being intentionally obtuse. “Yeah? Duh? And I woulda done it a bajillion years ago if I thought I wouldn’t get punched for it.” He leans a little further away from Jamie. “Wait, am I gonna get punched for it?”

A hysterical little laugh bubbles up out of Jamie. He never thought this was a possibility, never allowed himself to even imagine...

He grabs a handful of Tyler’s T-shirt and reels him back in.

This kiss is long, slow and searching, the both of them active participants moving together like they already know exactly how the other will respond. Like the sixth sense they have on the ice somehow miraculously also applies to this.

When they come up for air, panting against each other’s swollen lips, Jamie has to squeeze his eyes shut tight and grip Tyler’s hips with bruising fingers to try to ground himself.

“What happens in Vegas?” Tyler asks breathlessly, but with a sort of timid caution that lets Jamie know what he’s really asking.

“It doesn’t have to. If you... It doesn’t have to stay here.”

“You sure?” He’s got one hand in Jamie’s hair and the other resting on Jamie’s thigh, slowly inching its way higher.

“Do you wanna know exactly how long I’ve been trying not to fall in love with you? Because it’s been a while.”

Tyler laughs, delighted. His face is so open and bright with his joy that Jamie can’t help but kiss him again. He wants to wrap Tyler up in his arms and never let go. He wants to be the cause of Tyler’s joy for the rest of their lives.

“If you need the receipts on how long I’ve been mooning over your stupid ass just ask Spez. He’s been throwing balls of tape at my head in the locker room every time I get too obvious about it since day fucking one.”

“Good to know.” Jamie grins. And then, a nervous stutter of his heart: “So Spez is cool with...”

Tyler purses his lips into something not quite a frown but close enough. It looks a little sad. “You know, a lot of them would be.” Jamie opens his mouth to argue, but Tyler beats him to it. “Just consider it, Cap. But not now. Right now the only thing I want you considering is my dick.”

Jamie doesn’t have the chance to roll his eyes and groan at that because Tyler heaves himself up to straddle him and start kissing again in earnest. And then Jamie’s groaning for an entirely different reason, bucking his hips up against the hard line of Tyler’s growing erection beneath his swim shorts.

Jamie tugs at Tyler’s shirt. “Off, off,” he pants against Tyler’s mouth. “Can’t believe you put a shirt on at all today.”

Tyler leans back and pulls she shirt over his head, while Jamie does the same with his own. “You keep your hotel room too cold,” he whines with an over the top pout.

Jamie gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re from Canada. You make a living being on ice.”

“Okay, okay, quit fucking chirping me and get naked already,” he says around laughter, like he’s never had this much fun. Jamie feels the same way. Being turned on while making fun of each other is a unique concept for him in the bedroom and he doesn’t know why it’s never been like this before. Maybe because he’s never had sex with someone who was a friend first.

Tyler rolls off of him so he can take off his shorts and then toss them clear across the room while Jamie eases out of his own. When Tyler turns back to face him, Jamie pounces and pins him to the bed with all of his weight.

“God that’s hot,” Tyler breathes, pupils blown.

Jamie grinds down into him, causing Tyler to close his eyes and throw his head back with a low groan. Then Jamie reaches down between them and takes them both in hand.

There is always something about watching Tyler without clothes on that feels like watching a performance. He is so fully aware when even a random phone’s camera is nearby, or where everyone’s eyes are immediately drawn whether they want to be or not. But it is very much a show, even at his most relaxed. Like he’s certain that no one in proximity would ever look at him as more than what he wants them to see: something to admire, to covet, to watch.

This is different. This feels like the show is just for Jamie’s eyes alone, and if anyone else were to try to intrude, everything about Tyler would shift. This is a Tyler just for the two of them. A Tyler that knows that Jamie’s lust is about more than just his body.

Neither of them last long, and thank god because Jamie’s embarrassingly hard just from getting to put his dick anywhere near those abs.

Tyler comes with a choked off shout. Jamie is so surprised by the fact that he goes first, and so turned on by the face Tyler makes, that he’s coming himself seconds later.

Tyler strokes him through the aftershocks. And when Jamie starts to softly whine at the overstimulation, he shimmies up the bed until they’re face to face, heads lying on the same pillow.

For a long moment the only sounds are their labored breaths and the muted noise of the strip outside the hotel room window. The further from the high of his orgasm Jamie gets, the more worried he is about what’s going through Tyler’s head. He admitted to an attraction to Jamie, but that doesn’t mean...

“...Hey,” Tyler says, oddly cautious, like he’s dipping his toes into water he’s already certain will be too cold.

“Uh, hey,” Jamie shoots back on reflex, a little too short for the situation, a little too closed off just on instinct. Shit. He can feel the air in the room shift to something wary, and this whole thing is about to get blamed on alcohol and fucking Vegas, isn’t it?

Tyler studies Jamie’s left shoulder for a long moment, pointedly not meeting his eyes. And then he rolls over so he’s on his back, several inches of space between them. He keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he says, evenly, “Okay. So. I’m gonna go.”

Jamie reaches out for him before he can second guess himself, wrapping a hand around Tyler’s tattooed forearm to keep him from getting out of bed. “Wait.”

“It’s fine, man. We don’t have to--”

“You said ‘since day one.’”

Tyler swallows thickly. “I did. And you said ‘falling in love.’”

Jamie nods. “I did.”

A small smile starts to tug at the edge of Tyler’s lips, and he does a poor job of tamping it down. “Well then I guess I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

His tone is amused and hopeful, but there’s enough of a question in his eyes that Jamie feels the need to confirm what he now suspects is true. He pulls Tyler into him, and Tyler falls against his chest without resistance. Jamie kisses him, quick and firm. “I’m keeping you for as long as I can get away with.”

“Might be awhile.” he smirks a little, playful and coy.

Jamie smirks right back. “Good.”

They manage to fit a couple more rounds in, along with room service and an HBO doc that Jamie is going to remember exactly zero of thanks to Tyler’s rudely talented mouth.

Jamie wakes up the next morning to Tyler having stolen all the blankets, burrowed down into them, his face hardly visible while his forehead is pressed into Jamie’s shoulder. It’s possibly the best way Jamie’s ever woken up, even with the mild hangover.

At the airport, waiting for their flight back to Dallas, Jamie finds himself in line at Starbucks next to Klinger. The guy is very obviously hungover, so are the rest of them, and looks like he’s going to fall over if he doesn’t get some coffee into his system in the next five minutes.

Jamie can relate, even if he’s more just tired than hungover, and so doesn’t chirp him when he yawns twice in a row and then nearly stumbles backwards into a shelf of travel mugs. He does laugh though, to which Klinger rolls his eyes and slugs him the arm, but he’s got a smile on his face.

“Hey, you have fun last night after we left? Or did you just stay in and watch TV like the old man you are?” His tone is teasing as they shuffle forward in line, though still a good six people away from the register.

Jamie considers his answer for a moment, and then considers John. His other A. Dependable and honest and just... a good guy. A guy Jamie trusts.

“Nah, I hung out with Seggy. He kept me pretty busy.” He doesn’t imbue any innuendo into it, his tone light. But he figures if Tyler really has been that obvious in the past, that maybe Klinger will read into it anyway.

And judging by the way John’s eyes widen slightly as he stares at Jamie and Jamie stares evenly right back, it looks like he was right. “Oh.”

Jamie purses his lips and waits, heart in his throat.

But then Klinger grins and punches Jamie in the arm again, only this time hard enough in his enthusiasm that Jamie winces. “Fuck yeah, man. It’s about god damn time.”

Jamie laughs and throws an arm around John to pull him into a side hug. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He glances over at where the rest of the guys are sitting at the terminal several yards away, immediately homing in on one body in particular. Sunk down low in his seat, limbs sprawled out wide, nodding his head along to whatever music he’s got coming through his air pods. Tyler looks as relaxed as ever, and so casually, effortlessly gorgeous that Jamie can’t believe he gets to have that.

No, not just have, but keep.

And maybe even get to tell a few people about it. Have people be happy for him out in the open, instead of solely in his most rare and hidden and buried fantasies.

It doesn’t feel real, especially beneath the hot desert sun streaming in through the big windows and the slot machines making noise at the other end of the causeway. But Klinger wrapping an arm around Jamie’s waist and hugging back, laughing delightedly against Jamie’s shoulder, solidifies it. Helps Jamie feel even more confident that this definitely doesn’t have to stay in Vegas.

He gets to take this feeling home with him.

[fuck-customers]

Please just go home

This is kinda long so TD;LR this really drunk guy came in and didn’t know how to order and trying to find out what he wanted and getting him to pay was like pulling teeth.

So this guy comes in SUPER drunk and when it’s his turn to order he goes “my order will be.. the burger.. it is for [name].” And he just walks away before I can ask about clarification on any of that and charge him (our entire menu is fuckin burgers so I had no idea which one he wanted.) I still have all this shit to do so I can’t go up to him and ask for clarification and/or give him a cup of water cause he is... gone. He sits waiting at this table staring at me while I take all the orders and stuff and eventually it finally slows down to the point there’s no line, dining room is decent, and I just have a few delivery drivers waiting for their orders cause they got there a little early.

I’m just about to check to see if the drunk guy is still there and he’s at my till again. Conversation goes like this (M=e, G=drunk guy, D1= driver 1, and D2= driver 2)

G: Hey I’ve been waiting here for so long. I think you forgot my order

M: oh yes, I’m sorry sir I didn’t have time to reapproach you when it happened but you never actually gave me an order. You asked for “a burger”, gave me your name, and walked away without paying. I’m sorry for the wait but I can help you now.

G: No I ordered a long time ago I’m still waiting for it.

M: yes I remember you coming to my till but you didn’t actually order anything and walked away before I could get clarification, it will only take a few moments to get your food out to you now though, I can throw in something for free for the trouble. What can I get you.

G: I just ordered a long time ago, I just want my order now.

M:... okay, I may have misheard you since it was loud in here so I didn’t catch what you ordered and in any case you walked away without paying-

G: oh I didn’t pay?

M: ... no.

G: [hands me a 5$ bill] there you go I’ll just sit over here and wait.

M: sir I can’t do anything with your money until you tell me what it is you ordered.

(D1 is sitting and kind of chuckling at this whole ordeal and I’m getting stressed out because half the order is ready already and I haven’t even got the bag or drinks ready for it yet.)

G: oh you don’t need that?

M: I need you to tell me what you would like to eat before I can do anything with your money.

G: oh I’ll take it back then.

M: so you aren’t getting anything?

G:no I’ll just wait for my order over here. [he takes his fiver back and drops it on the way to where he goes to sit.]

M: sir you dropped your money on the floor.

G:yeah that’s okay.

M:.... okay [I go to get D1’s order together and out to him when D2 walks in and see’s the money on the floor. He picks it up and goes to put it in his pocket.]

M: excuse me sir, I believe this gentlemen over here actually dropped that on the floor, it belongs to him.

D2: [apologizes and goes to hand it to G]

G: I don’t need that you can have it I’m just waiting for my order.

D2: are.. you sure?

G: yeah it’s okay.

M: [i have D1’s order for him and I go to double check the order number with both drivers to make sure the right ones going to the right driver.]

G: hey is that my order?

M: no sir, you haven’t ordered anything.

G: yeah I did I ordered a long time ago I’m still waiting.

M: yes as we have been over, you were at my till but asked for nothing specific-

G:look I just want my order.

D1: listen dude, she doesn’t remember what you got you have to tell her again.

G: oh I got the new burger.

M: oh the new [x] burger?

G: no.

M:..... alright well.. which burger did you want sir?

G: I’ll get the popular one.

M: ... the [y] burger?

G: sure.

M: ...........okay so one [y] burger, and that’s all for you tonight?

G: no.

M: ......

G: I want 2.

M: ..okay 2 [y] burgers. And is that all for you tonight?

G: yes I’ll be waiting over here.

M: sir wait, you need to pay.

G: I can’t. THAT GUY [points at D2] stile my money.

D2: I’m sorry sir I tried to give it back to you.

G: well maybe next time.. you should try harder...

(D2 and I exchange a knowing look)

G: [tries to pay with the fiver]

M: I’m sorry sir your total is actually $12

G: oh.. what? For a burger?

M: no sir you ordered 2 of them and they’re $6 each.

G: ridiculous... [pushes a card into the machine before telling me he was doing that or what kind of card it is]

M: sir is that on debit or credit?

G: on card.

M: yes, but is it debit or credit?

G: why does it matter?

M:....... so I can press the right button on my screen and your payment can go through.

G: oh. That’s dumb.

M: yeah sure so is that debit or credit?

G: um.. I’m not sure can you tell me? [shoves cars in my face]

M: okay... it’s credit ... you’re good to go.

G: oh I can leave? But I want my order.

M: I mean the pinpad is ready.

G:ohhhh okay [he finally fucking pays for his food]

M: thank you, would you like your receipt?

G: what’s that?

M:.......................... here you can have it.

G: oh thanks [he later drops it on the floor and leaves it there.]

His food is ready by the time it’s paid for but so is D2’s order so I put together that one first out of spite but they both go out at practically the same time because 2 burgers takeout is a lot easier to bag than a big delivery order. The guy ends up apologizing to the driver and asks for a hug to which the driver declines. He is about to leave when another group of people walk in (right when I think I can finally clean the damn restaurant because it’s 4am and usually that’s the fuckin quiet time where I’m able to clean after the bar rushes)

He begins talking to these people very loudly and it becomes apparent he doesn’t know them. After being loud a little bit longer he discards his bag still full of 2 half eaten burgers on the floor and finally leaves. I didn’t get my cleaning done by the time my shift was over 2 hours later and my boss made me stay for 2 more hours of unpaid overtime (I was on salary) to get it all done even though technically more than half of those cleaning tasks are the morning persons to do.

I don’t work there anymore.

[snarky-badger]

Hey, love your beautiful writing and how you portray venom as a cat (fucking love that shit!). If your open for story ideas, what about a reader who has sever anxiety and depression and is having a panic attack at the house after a long, mentally draining day? How would Eddie/Venom react to this? What would they try to do to make the reader feel better? Maybe some fluff to calm them down? (I’ve been having a ruff time mentally lately and need some Eddie/Venom overprotective fluff :>)

I hope this is alright!

Warnings for mentions of depression, anxiety, panic attacks. Just in case.

You’d once heard someone describe depression as a cancer of the soul.

Which, in a way, was true. It was inoperable, but could be controlled with medication, sometimes even wiped out completely, the patient going into a ‘remission’ of sorts.

It was a constant battle, and you were tired of it. Some days were better than others, naturally. But lately, too many problems had been piling up, weighing you down, making you teeter on the edge of an overwhelmed breakdown.

You could usually hide your mental illness behind a mask of cheerfulness. A carefully crafted costume of smiles, jokes and a fake upbeat attitude that hid the darkness within.

But work had been stressful - more than usual. Working in Customer Service at a Wal*Mart meant that you dealt with people at their most annoyed. Usually you could handle the complaints and snide remarks. Usually.

But being screamed at that afternoon by an irate man had started a chain reaction, a spiral into depression and anxiety and self-loathing that you failed to to control. Once the reaction started, everything else just piled on: you’d dropped food onto your blouse - forcing you to wear it all afternoon amidst jokes from your coworkers -  had been forced to work at a cash due to someone else calling sick, had your shift extended by six hours, got sworn at by some woman, learned that your next two shifts had been cancelled because you’d logged in too many hours the week before, and then missed the last bus on your route.

Walking home in the dark, all you’d wanted to do was find a hole, curl up in it, and die.

The apartment was dark when you finally reached it almost an hour later, feet sore, a headache pounding in your temples, and shoulders so stiff you could have had someone break a chair over your back with little consequence.

Sighing, you kicked the apartment door shut, toed off your sneakers, flicked on some lights, then went to get changed. Shucking out of that damned blue vest was like having weight lift off of you, and you chucked it into a corner before changing into some yoga pants and a tee shirt. The laundry basket was overflowing, and you cringed at the sight before ignoring it completely and heading for the kitchen.

You needed a drink.

There was a bottle of wine in the fridge, and you grabbed it, and your favorite wine glass, before rummaging through the drawers for the corkscrew, your irritation rising with every failed search.

Finally found it wedged behind a ladle. Your headache was getting worse.

The cork was stubborn, and you had to fight with it, tugging and pulling and cursing, and when it finally let go, popping out and spilling white wine over your hands, the recoil of the bottle knocked your wine glass off the counter, whereupon it shattered on the floor, sending shards of glass scattering across the tile.

You froze, staring down at the bits of your favorite wine glass. Slowly, like the the inevitable creeping of the tides, an unstoppable force rose in your chest. Inexorably, the first of many tears gathered in your eyes, your breath hitching in your chest, throat closing up. The first sob that left you was ragged, like a dying animal, and you crumpled, dropping down to sit on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, your hands digging into your hair as you went utterly to pieces.

Eddie found you in that position who knows how long later, sitting amongst the destruction of every single last bit of you that had the ability to cope with life in it’s entirety.

Lucky for you, your boyfriend knew the perils of dealing with depression and anxiety. Dropping the bags of takeout onto the floor, he kicked the door shut then moved over to you, hands gently taking yours and pulling them out of your hair. Symbiote tendrils of the alien bonded to him gripped your fingers, giving you something to hold on to as Eddie deftly scooped you into his arms, picking you up like some lost, broken, thing, and carrying you over to the couch.

You were still unable to form words, just wheezing and shaking and sobbing and struggling for air, and you distantly felt him press a kiss to your forehead as he sat down, settled you onto his lap, and gently starting rocking you.

Blackness rose from Eddie’s skin, bleeding through the man’s clothing, the symbiote - Venom - reaching for you, wrapping you up in gentle warmth. One tendril rose to stroke your cheek and brush at your tears as you tried, helplessly, to even out your breathing, hiccuping as your diaphragm spasmed.

“Shh,” Eddie murmured to you, arms tighten around you as he pressed his cheek to your forehead, his stubble scritching across your skin. “It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

You clung to him, fingers gripping at his shirt and the symbiote, curling yourself into him. Pressed yourself as close as you could, feeling his arms cradle you, feeling the symbiote tighten around you, the sensations like an anchor, something solid and safe that you could use to pull what remained of your shattered psyche back together.

Slowly, you calmed enough to focus on Eddie’s breathing, the exaggerated breaths he was taking helping you to force your own lungs to match the rhythm. The symbiote shifted over your chest, undulating in time with Eddie’s breathing to help you keep track.

The extra oxygen helped calm you, your heartbeat slowing, the pounding in your head lessening as you slowly relaxed, your body drained and trembling, your mind brittle, unarmed and exposed, like a nerve. “I-I’m s-sorry–”

“None of that,” Eddie murmured to you, hugging you tighter, the symbiote massaging your back and shoulders, helping to calm the jitters that still made your muscles jump and quiver, the adrenaline from the attack still in your veins. “You want, Vee?”

You nodded, hesitantly, shivering when you felt the body against you grow, the symbiote tendrils around you leaving to add themselves to the mass of the whole. As soon as the transformation was over, a low, baritone, purring vibrated out of the massive form you were cradled against, one of Venom’s taloned hands rising to gently cup the side of your face.

“OUR POOR, MORSEL,” he murmured, licking at your face to clean up your tears. “DO WE NEED TO KILL ANYONE?”

“No,” you whispered, voice rough from crying. Sniffling, you rubbed at your eyes, then nuzzled into Venom’s chest, wrapping your arms around as much of his bulk as you could.

His purring ratcheted up a notch, one hand keeping you close while the other rose to your head, talons deftly undoing the braid you wore to work until he could run his fingers though your hair. The mix of the sound of his purring - a noise he only made for you - and the gentle sensation of him stroking your hair, talons tickling your scalp, helped unravel the last knots of stress and pain and anxiety in your chest.

It was only when you sighed, in exhaustion, in relief, that Venom ducked his head to nuzzle at you, fangs endlessly gentle as he nipped at your lower lip. “BETTER?”

“Yeah.”

“WANT FOOD?”

Slowly, your sense of smell came back, and you could almost taste the aroma of Burgers and Fries from the restaurant nearby. “Sure.”

Where another person would have gotten up to retrieve the takeout, Venom merely lashed a tendril out, reaching across the apartment to snatch up the bags that Eddie had dropped.

Black talons ripped open the bag before a can of soda was offered to you. You took it, feeling the condensation wet your palms as you cracked the drink open, taking a gulp of root beer. The cold liquid soothed your throat, and you sighed as you leaned your head against Venom’s chest again.

“Thank you,” you murmured, inciting a low rumble as Venom pulled a Styrofoam container out of the bag and ripped the cover off to reveal a pile of curly fries.

“SHH. DON’T HAVE TO THANK US,” he soothed, holding the container out to you and letting you snag a fry. A handful of the curled potatoes vanished into his mouth, his tongue licking at his fangs. “MM. WANT TO TELL US?”

“Bad day.” Venom offered you another fry and you let him feed you. “Everything sucked at work: got screamed at, had to work a double shift because they put me on the cash, then I lost two shifts because of the overtime they made me work last week, missed the last bus and when I got home I broke my favorite wine glass and everything just…” You mimed something exploding.

A grumble left him as he leaned down to nuzzle at the top of your head. “WE COULD HUNT DOWN YOUR BOSS.”

“Nah. He’s just as overworked as I am. I don’t think he’s seen his kids in a week. I just… I don’t know. I hate it there, but I need the job.”

Venom was quiet for a moment. “THEN LEAVE,” he rumbled, drawing your gaze. “DON’T STAY IN A PLACE THAT HURTS YOU, MORSEL. THERE ARE OTHER JOBS.”

You opened your mouth to protest, and he fed you a fry to shut you up.

“WE’RE SERIOUS, NIBBLE. WE HATE SEEING YOU HURT, AND THAT PLACE HURTS YOU. WE CAN’T DO ANYTHING… OTHER THAN ADVISE YOU TO LEAVE.”

“We won’t be able to make rent if I don’t–”

“NIBBLE. LET US TAKE CARE OF YOU. EDDIE SAYS THAT HE HAS ‘SAVINGS’, WE WON’T LOSE THE NEST.”

Your fingers clenched around the can of pop in your hands, the thin metal creaking a little under your grip. “…You’re sure?”

He huffed a laugh and gently caught your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up so he could kiss you gently. “WE WOULD NEVER LIE TO YOU.”

If you were honest with yourself, you’d only been staying at the Wal*Mart to make rent. It was soul-sucking, demeaning, and the workplace was as toxic as it could get. “You’re really sure?” you asked again, because you needed to hear it again.

Venom chuckled, a tendril brushing at your cheek. “WE’RE SURE, OUR NIBBLE. NOW, EAT, AND AFTER, WE’LL BRING YOU WEBSLINGING. MAYBE OUT TO YOUR FAVORITE SPOT ON THE BRIDGE? YOU ALWAYS SMILE WHEN WE GO OUT TO SEE THE STARS.”

The thought of never having to go back to work - past the two weeks you’d have to endure after giving your notice - made a massive weight lift off your shoulders.

Venom started purring again, offering you more food, and you relaxed as he fed you fries and then torn off pieces of the burger in the other container. It was pampering, is what it was. But, it felt nice to be taken care of - something that both Venom and Eddie excelled at.

You were drained, tired, still a little emotionally brittle, but safe in the knowledge that you had a rather powerful support team.

You could do this.

And if not, you could always send Venom to scare the shit out of people.

That was always a plus.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Bucky is a janitor working at MIT, he finds Tony holed up in the lab, sick.

Night shift (1 of 2)

Bucky didn't hate his job. There were just a few things that really annoyed him. Like when he had to take over a shift from his colleague unexpectedly and therefore stay longer than usual to clean out the trash cans in the laboratories. At least the labs were almost deserted this late, but unsurprisingly even the brightest of students still made a mess and how they weren't able to put their trash into the trash can instead of right next to it surprised Bucky time and time again. Unsurprising was also the huge amount of beer cans hidden behind a staircase like nobody would find them there. Yeah right, somebody had to pick them up one by one and clean the spilled beer off the floor. Why couldn't they party outside then at least Bucky wouldn't have to scrub the floor.

Bucky was almost done with his round and he only had a few trash cans to empty in the engineering department, which had one advantage that he didn't have the risk of finding some hazardous material in the bins like in the bio or chem departments.  He was ready to call it a day and get home, take off his prosthesis, rub his sore muscles and relax with his cat but apparently his prosthetic arm had other thoughts and decided to clock out early with an unpleasant crack and a clank and then a tiny plink as a screw dropped out of Bucky's sleeve and onto the floor right before the trash can he had been in the process of emptying into his cart followed suit.

His left arm was dangling awkwardly from the elbow joint and Bucky cursed. It wasn't the first time this had happened, he knew that particular screw became loose after a long day at work but he usually tightened it after the work at home and everything was fine. The extra work must have messed it up more than he thought and now the screw was lost under a pile of soda cans, abandoned term paper drafts and granola bar wrappers. And right at the end of his workday too. This was not Bucky's day.

(Watch out for the break!)

After a thorough dig through the trash Bucky found the tiny screw but he soon realized he couldn't do anything with it because he didn't have any tools with him, which he usually kept in his cart, but since this was his colleague's section of campus this was also not his cart and of course his backpack where he kept a small multitool was in the janitors' office in his locker, which was all the way across campus.

There had to be another way. Bucky searched the cart he had but came up with nothing except grease and gunk from spillovers, expected from a cart for trash collecting. Bucky wiped his hand and sat down on the floor and pulled his malfunctioning arm into his lap. He mentally already prepared himself for the walk back to the office. It would add another half an hour to his shift at least and that didn't include tidying the mess he had made spilling the trash and then rummaging through it.

Except he was in the damn engineering department of the best university in the whole country, he'd be damned if he couldn't find a fucking screwdriver around here. He had the keys to all the labs after all and so Bucky got up, tugged his unresponsive left hand into his jacket pocket and started to look around. A few students were still running experiments here and there and he didn't want to bother them, most of them weren't too fond of the cleaning staff and had no hesitation to show it. Bucky looked for an empty lab and soon found one that was dark and deserted. To his surprise, it was unlocked but that wasn't too uncommon, it's the students' problem if their research or experiments get stolen by their classmates, not Bucky's.

He didn't bother turning on the lights, the dim lights from various apparatuses and the monitors that had been left on was enough to guide him around and he really just wanted to find a toolbox and take it with him so he could fix his arm in peace, he didn't want to get caught tinkering in the lab.

A noise made him perk up from where he had been looking through the lower shelves of some cupboards, he had thought he was alone in the lab but that had suspiciously sounded like...sniffling. He got up and walked around the lab tables and sure enough hidden behind some futuristic looking contraption was a student sleeping on his laptop surrounded by energy drink cans both empty and full. Now that Bucky got closer he could clearly hear the soft coughs the other made in his sleep.

A peak on the screen confirmed Bucky's guess that the guy wanted to pull an all-nighter to finish a paper. The title read "Using deep neural networks and sparse autoencoders for high-level feature generation in artificial intelligence" and he had been typing "ffffffff" with his left ear for 159 pages.

Bucky gently nudged his shoulder.

The guy startled awake, leaving a "fffffgjhkkkkkk" on the screen and a very visible keyboard imprint on his cheek before he doubled over into a violent coughing fit.

"Woah, there." Bucky rubbed his back and after several long minutes the coughing turned into wheezing and the guy was able to compose himself, grab an open energy drink and down it in one go after which he took a few long-ish breaths and finally looked up.  He first noticed his messed up document and cursed, then he noticed Bucky standing next to him.

"I'm allowed to be here." He coughed again and a shiver ran through his body. "You can't throw me out, no matter how good looking you are."

"Not really concerned whether you're allowed in here or not, buddy. You look like death warmed over, that's what concerns me." It was true, the guy looked horrible. His skin was paler than it should have been in the blue lighting from the laptop screen and he had deep circle under his eyes, his hair was a mess and he looked like he was going to cough his lungs out again any second. Bucky had also felt how hot the guy was when he had touched his back, he was definitely feverish. "You should be in bed with some Nyquil."

The guy waved at him and turned to his laptop. "'M fine. I need to finish the paper." He moved to open up another can of energy drink but he seemed he had neither the fine motor control nor the strength to do so. "Fuck." He dropped the can on the table and it rolled away knocking over other cans until it came to a rest against a pile of books.

"I came in here looking for something but I'm not going to leave you in that state," Bucky said. "Let me make you a tea or something, I know you folks always got a water kettle hidden somewhere, you always do."

The other swayed slightly, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the screen in front of him, then he nodded. "Coffee."

Bucky rolled his eyes. At least it was a warm beverage. "Where?" He asked and then went to the corner of the lab the guy nodded towards. The water kettle definitely looked like it had been tampered with and Bucky hoped it wouldn't explode as he set it up. He looked through the cupboard and found several open packages of instant coffee powder as well as a sizeable stash of cup noodles. He prepared both which was tedious with only one hand available and it also meant he had to walk twice after he had finished both the coffee and the cup noodles but the guy looked grateful when he set both in front of him.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he drew in a long waft of coffee aroma, both hands around the mug. "Are you a student here too? Can't be, I'd remember someone as hot as you." The guy asked and Bucky had a to laugh a little.

"Do I look like a student?" He gestured to himself and the other concentrated really hard for a moment before he recognized the janitor uniform Bucky was wearing and with some effort, he squinted at his name tag.

"J. Barnes. So, Mr. Barnes, you don't look like the grumpy guy that usually mopes around here and tries to kick us out?"

Bucky groaned. "Please, I'm Bucky. I'm not old enough to be Mr.ed by college students. I took over a shift from a colleague. Anyway, I'll leave you to your paper, but please don't kill yourself with those energy drinks. I'm not paid enough to clean up a dead body."

Bucky turned to leave, he would need to find a toolkit elsewhere or just swallow the bitter pill and walk to the office, he already wasted a lot of time anyway it mattered little if he wasted more.

"I'm Tony." The student behind him suddenly said. "Maybe I can help you."

Bucky stopped and turned around. "Help with what?"

"You were looking for something." Tony wrapped his arms around himself and sneezed. "And if my deductions are right, there is something wrong with your prosthesis."

Bucky's mouth dropped open for a moment before he composed himself again. "How did you know?"

Tony shrugged, then grinned. "There was talk going around that one of the janitors not only looked incredibly hot but also had a bad-ass metal arm, a Hammer prototype as the rumors go, and you haven't used your left arm at all while preparing the coffee and cup noodles, thanks again by the way. So..." He trailed off and then gestured between them when Bucky didn't say anything. "Engineering problem," he pointed to Bucky, "genius engineering student." He gestured to all of himself. "Come on, get out of that jacket and show me."

Bucky was still too perplexed to say anything.

"I promise I won't steal any tech secrets in case you had to sign an NDA or something, not that Hammer has anything worthwhile to steal." Tony laughed.

Bucky couldn't believe his luck, this guy really was something and so he shrugged out of his jacket and fumbled it off his useless left arm. "Alright, I lost this screw earlier when I lifted a trash can and then my arm just collapsed and let's just say it wasn't a pretty sight and I have to do some additional overtime on top of the stuff I'm already dealing with." Bucky pulled out the tiny screw from his pocket and put it on the table. Tony pushed his books and the laptop aside, causing a bunch of empty cans to tumble to the ground which he didn't seem to care about. He blew his nose and motioned for Bucky to come closer.

"There's gotta be a chair around here, you don't need to stand around."

Bucky settled on one of the other chairs and placed his arm on the desk in front of Tony. "You know if you just give me a screwdriver I can do this myself. I did it a few times already, that thing just comes lose all the time."

"Oh, a recurring problem, interesting. Did you report that?"  Under a few coughs, Tony rolled his chair around and collected a small case from the table that has the futuristic looking apparatus on it.

"Do you know how hard it is to get decent customer support these days? Also, I want to keep the arm and I kinda have a feeling that if I tell them it keeps falling apart on me they will find a new person missing a left arm and give it to them instead."

"Ah... seems like a Hammer thing to do." Tony opened up the case and pulled out a few tiny tools, much more delicate than what Bucky used to use.

"You seem to know a lot about Hammer Industries."

Still sniffling Tony started running his fingers up and down the metal plates on the arm. "Comes with the business... engineering and stuff."

"The screw goes in here." Bucky pointed to the tiny hole at his elbow.

"Yeah I know, but that won't fix your problem of it coming lose all the time now will it?"

Bucky looked flabbergasted and Tony. "You want to repair the whole thing? Can you do that?"

"Can I? Of course, I caaaa- ahchoo" Tony sneezed violently but had the decency to move his face into the crook of his elbow. "That is if I don't die first. Man, this flue is killing me."

"You need to get into bed ASAP."

"Yeah yeah, after this and then the paper and then I need to work on the semester project and then maybe." Tony took one of the tools and inserted it in between the plating and wriggled it around. Bucky got a little scared, but Tony looked like he knew what he was doing.

The metal plate suddenly popped open and Bucky blanched. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Yep, perfectly normal. It's an access hatch." Tony used a small flashlight to have a better look and poked around in the innards of the arm with a little brush. "You got some gunk in there, aren't you cleaning this regularly?"

"Uh.."

"I guess not. I'll do some rudimentary cleaning but I think you might have to come back so I can get everything polished and oiled. Didn't you notice some other malfunctions? Like loss of motor control?"

Bucky thought about it for a moment. "I guess hand movements get a bit janky sometimes, but I could deal with it. What do you mean I have to come back?"

Tony shrugged. "Can't spend 3 hours doing maintenance when I have to work on a paper too. Okay, see, here's the problem." Tony shone the light into the inner elbow and Bucky had to squint a little to see what he meant. There was a tiny nut stuck in between two cables.

"That's what's supposed to hold the screw." Tony picked it up with a pair of tweezers and then wriggled it into the innards of the elbow, with his other hand he replaced the screw. "That should hold it for longer than a day, but it's still not ideal if it came off once it's going to come off again. This is a fundamental flaw in the design, who allowed this to be tested on humans. It could have caused a lot more damage than just some scattered trash. Imagine if you were carrying something more valuable." Tony huffed. "Incompetent fumblers, all of them."

Without a problem Tony replaced the plate he had removed and Bucky was able to move his arm again. He tested the elbow joint a few times and opened and closed his hand too, everything felt a lot smoother all of a sudden. He hadn't even noticed that the arm was getting less responsive over time, he had just gotten used to it.

"Amazing, I don't know how to thank you." Bucky could hug the guy. He had saved him so much trouble by fixing his arm, but Tony waved him off.

"It was nothing and you already did enough for me." Tony put his tools away and started to devour the almost forgotten cup noodles, which even from Bucky's point of view looked extremely mushy. "I meant it though," Tony said in between slurps and sniffling, "you can come back anytime. I'm here almost every day or night, depending on your perspective." He turned to his laptop and started holding down backspace. "And I'll probably be here all night tonight." He signed and then started coughing again.

Bucky frowned, Tony was sick and he had really come to like the guy and cared for him. "Do you need to finish the paper tonight?"

Tony nodded then rolled his eyes backward and made a grimace before sneezing violently and this time he wasn't so smart to cover his nose and he sneezed right onto the screen of his laptop. Both men made a disgusted noise at the sight.

"I guess I could write an email and ask for a few days more, the professor likes me I think, likes my genius in any case." Tony sniffled pitifully and turned to Bucky, his eyes were watery from all the sneezing and coughing. "You think I should do that?"

"Yes! You probably should have done that hours ago." Bucky said adamantly, but Tony managed a small smile.

"But then you wouldn't have met me." He wriggled his eyebrows in what probably should have been a seductive fashionif it hadn't been interrupted by another sneeze. "You want to know what I'm working on down here, Chappie?"

Bucky didn't know what that had anything to do with it but he was curious what Tony was doing down here. "Yeah, sure, if you write that email after that. Kinda don't want to lose my new-found mechanic to the common cold." Bucky scooted a little closer, assuming Tony wanted to show him something on his laptop. "I'm not that smart though, so maybe you need to dumb it down."

Tony just grinned and pressed a few buttons and a small application popped up with the letters J.A.R.V.I.S in white written over a dark blue background, the icon underneath reminded Bucky of HAL9000 only the "eye" was a swirl of blue instead of menacing red.

"Jarvis?" Tony said.

"Yes, Sir?" A distinctively British voice answered from the laptop. Bucky's eyes went wide.

"Please write an email to Professor Stane explaining to him why I need a few more days to finish the paper for his class. Choose an apologetic tone."

"Of course, Sir, how many details do you want me to include?" The voice asked confidently.

"Nothing embarrassing."

"I will not include your close call with death then."

Tony rolled his eyes. "He's so sassy," he whispered to Bucky.

"I have composed a message to Professor Stane, Sir."

"Display it." The email program opened up and showed the formulated message, Bucky was impressed, it already had the address filled out and when he quickly read it he found it included all formalities. He hadn't expected that. He really hadn't known what to expect.

Tony read through the email as well and with a 'Send it' command it disappeared and the email program closed on its own. The whole progress only took a few seconds and Tony hadn't touched the keyboard once.

"Jarvis is an AI I developed. He's going to help me with research and taking over some boring tasks like scheduling or writing emails." Tony gestured to the computer. "What do you think?"

"Holy shit, that was amazing. He's like a real person!" Bucky was really impressed. "I mean, I know about Siri and Alexa but that's a whole step above that."

Tony tsked. "Forget these amateur AI's. I am aiming to have a real personal assistant who thinks independently and actually does work for me. With those others, you need to spend more time on maintenance than you actually save by using them." He shrugged and closed the document with his paper, then shut his laptop down and yawned. "I guess I'm done for tonight."

That reminded Bucky of his own night which wasn't going to come to an end until he cleaned up the mess outside and he groaned "I still have to work to do." He got up and pulled his jacket back on. "I better get going, I hope you get home alright and get better soon. Thanks again for fixing my arm."

"Hey, no problem, it was my pleasure, it's not every day I get to work on a prosthesis prototype." Tony flashed him a dazzling grin, he had relaxed now that the pressure of finishing a paper was gone. Bucky hadn't noticed how handsome the guy was and yeah, maybe he was going to come back not only for some additional maintenance on the arm. He really liked the guy.

They said their good-byes and Bucky returned to the pile of trash in the hallway which unsurprisingly hadn't changed at all, but Bucky finished the work quickly with two arms available and was able to call it a day, or a night rather, after half an hour and go home.