(SPM) Prodigal (Slash)
Pairing: Surprise? Not Harry/Peter, for sure. I think.
Fandom: Spider-Man (Any universe I guess, except Ultimate Spidey)
Notes: Thank you, my lovely, endearing MJ aingeal_isilme for beta-reading it; wynter_myst for pointing out something in a cookie of this fic I gave her. And thanks to abraxan for her opinion on whether I should post this, even though she didn't read it at all. Really. *twitch* 791 words. This was the one I wrote at work, but it's different much in a way.
Title:
P r o d i g a l
Only fools let power within their grasp slip through their fingers like sand.
But where there is great power, there is also great responsibility.
How oft has his Uncle Ben reiterated that line to him?
Peter hasn’t really understood meaning of it until it was too late. So now, Spider-Man recognises the responsibility that weighs heavily on his shoulders. He knows he has a gift that sets him apart from the rest of the population in New York City. One that makes him stronger. One that gives him a chance to protect the weak. People who are unable to fight back. People like his dear old Aunt May.
But even with his arachnid-like abilities, it isn't enough when Carnage is out there on the streets.
It is three thirty in the afternoon.
Venom lies in a corner, unconscious amongst the fallen beams and debris and Spider-Man is tired. Exhausted from the face-off that began in a crowded Madison Avenue early this morning and ended in this old, abandoned warehouse to the north west of Central Park, away from people. His mouth is dry and his throat is parched. He doesn't bother to move, not even to push the stray lock of hair that's getting into his eye. Not even as the symbiote unravels itself to reveal a young man's face, unscratched, unhurt. The symbiote protected him well, but even then, his host is only a normal human, whose capacity has been breached.
Eddie Brock is misguided. Too immersed in his agenda against Peter to notice the chaos he started. Spider-Man doesn't understand the venomous hatred that runs deep in Eddie, but it had called out to the symbiote and they had bonded, bound by a common dislike for the wall-crawling vigilante. But while Eddie's hate is simple, the symbiote's isn't; Eddie blatantly blames him for his loss of career, and the latter is a composite of stark, contrasting emotions- it needs him yet it hates being rejected.
Peter realises that he cannot continue on his own- he is almost at his limit. A jolt of sharp pain runs through his spine when he moves his right leg. He fears it may be broken. His muscles ache all over, yet he knows he must get up and save the city. Help may come in the form of the X-Men or the Fantastic Four, but they too have their own share of villains to keep at bay and by the time they reach here, more lives would be lost. For now, the city depends on him, he needs to do something, but he will not do it alone.
The symbiote has him once before; it needs him. Whether or not Spider-Man is ready to accept the responsibility to attempt controlling it, Peter isn’t sure.
"Come on and take me. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Slowly, the symbiote leaves his host, wary. But when it realises Peter is offering himself willingly, dark tendrils the colour of jet unfurl and twine up his legs, wrapping around his torso and spreading itself over his lean frame, rapidly, gently, protectively. Peter doesn’t know what hell-hole he’s just signed himself up for; he flinches. He can feel the symbiote's glee; his smile reflects it in a shard of broken glass, his teeth sharp as razor, white as pearls. Peter tries hard to detach his feelings from the entity's and focus, but his head is still giddy from their union. The symbiote has bound itself tightly to him; there is no going back now.
He leaps to Eddie's side, surprised by the ease he doesn't expect in his state. The symbiote speaks to Peter as he stands over the naked, comatose form, tells him of the hate Eddie lives with that makes Peter start feeling angry towards himself for no reason whatsoever. It also tells him that it never truly bonded with the other despite being with him for months, hoping that one day it will be with Peter again because he is the one. Peter can't bite back the pity he feels for Eddie.
Useless, he can hear it singing. But you, I have you now.
And when it starts to laugh in his head, and caress him, Peter freaks out; he yabbers, he looks for an excuse to get going.
"Sorry Brock, gotta run. I- I'll get someone to look after you."
He raises a hand upwards and web-slings out of the warehouse, movement aided with a familiar grace more fluid than before. His body still hurts but the healing factor is kicking in and the pain is lessened with the symbiote, which keeps its half of its unspoken promise.
They have a Carnage to stop.
Fandom: Spider-Man (Any universe I guess, except Ultimate Spidey)
Notes: Thank you, my lovely, endearing MJ aingeal_isilme for beta-reading it; wynter_myst for pointing out something in a cookie of this fic I gave her. And thanks to abraxan for her opinion on whether I should post this, even though she didn't read it at all. Really. *twitch* 791 words. This was the one I wrote at work, but it's different much in a way.
Title:
P r o d i g a l
Only fools let power within their grasp slip through their fingers like sand.
But where there is great power, there is also great responsibility.
How oft has his Uncle Ben reiterated that line to him?
Peter hasn’t really understood meaning of it until it was too late. So now, Spider-Man recognises the responsibility that weighs heavily on his shoulders. He knows he has a gift that sets him apart from the rest of the population in New York City. One that makes him stronger. One that gives him a chance to protect the weak. People who are unable to fight back. People like his dear old Aunt May.
But even with his arachnid-like abilities, it isn't enough when Carnage is out there on the streets.
It is three thirty in the afternoon.
Venom lies in a corner, unconscious amongst the fallen beams and debris and Spider-Man is tired. Exhausted from the face-off that began in a crowded Madison Avenue early this morning and ended in this old, abandoned warehouse to the north west of Central Park, away from people. His mouth is dry and his throat is parched. He doesn't bother to move, not even to push the stray lock of hair that's getting into his eye. Not even as the symbiote unravels itself to reveal a young man's face, unscratched, unhurt. The symbiote protected him well, but even then, his host is only a normal human, whose capacity has been breached.
Eddie Brock is misguided. Too immersed in his agenda against Peter to notice the chaos he started. Spider-Man doesn't understand the venomous hatred that runs deep in Eddie, but it had called out to the symbiote and they had bonded, bound by a common dislike for the wall-crawling vigilante. But while Eddie's hate is simple, the symbiote's isn't; Eddie blatantly blames him for his loss of career, and the latter is a composite of stark, contrasting emotions- it needs him yet it hates being rejected.
Peter realises that he cannot continue on his own- he is almost at his limit. A jolt of sharp pain runs through his spine when he moves his right leg. He fears it may be broken. His muscles ache all over, yet he knows he must get up and save the city. Help may come in the form of the X-Men or the Fantastic Four, but they too have their own share of villains to keep at bay and by the time they reach here, more lives would be lost. For now, the city depends on him, he needs to do something, but he will not do it alone.
The symbiote has him once before; it needs him. Whether or not Spider-Man is ready to accept the responsibility to attempt controlling it, Peter isn’t sure.
"Come on and take me. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Slowly, the symbiote leaves his host, wary. But when it realises Peter is offering himself willingly, dark tendrils the colour of jet unfurl and twine up his legs, wrapping around his torso and spreading itself over his lean frame, rapidly, gently, protectively. Peter doesn’t know what hell-hole he’s just signed himself up for; he flinches. He can feel the symbiote's glee; his smile reflects it in a shard of broken glass, his teeth sharp as razor, white as pearls. Peter tries hard to detach his feelings from the entity's and focus, but his head is still giddy from their union. The symbiote has bound itself tightly to him; there is no going back now.
He leaps to Eddie's side, surprised by the ease he doesn't expect in his state. The symbiote speaks to Peter as he stands over the naked, comatose form, tells him of the hate Eddie lives with that makes Peter start feeling angry towards himself for no reason whatsoever. It also tells him that it never truly bonded with the other despite being with him for months, hoping that one day it will be with Peter again because he is the one. Peter can't bite back the pity he feels for Eddie.
Useless, he can hear it singing. But you, I have you now.
And when it starts to laugh in his head, and caress him, Peter freaks out; he yabbers, he looks for an excuse to get going.
"Sorry Brock, gotta run. I- I'll get someone to look after you."
He raises a hand upwards and web-slings out of the warehouse, movement aided with a familiar grace more fluid than before. His body still hurts but the healing factor is kicking in and the pain is lessened with the symbiote, which keeps its half of its unspoken promise.
They have a Carnage to stop.