#dauntless-gothamite

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

–

A short while later, you’re standing in Wayne Manor with Barsad, champagne flute in hand and a smile plastered on your face. Before coming here, Bane had said he had other things to deal with, and while you had figured he wouldn’t be at the party, it was another thing entirely to be there alone with Barsad, who you felt you knew even less about than Bane. Barsad proves to be nice enough, if a bit awkward at times, and you often lead him through the crowd so as to avoid the wrong people–being the talented tailor that you are, you had made clothing for some of the richest people in Gotham and have a good understanding of the social dynamics in the room. Just as Bruce Wayne himself makes an entrance, Barsad leans in and whispers in your ear, “Time to go.” You frown but don’t protest and follow him out of the manor and down the long driveway, where a car waits for the both of you. Barsad opens the door for you, and you’re a little disappointed to see Bane isn’t there. As he gets in after you Barsad smirks and says, “Don’t worry, you’ll see the boss in a couple days when he drops by to check on your progress. He always follows up on his projects.” You scowl at that and Barsad laughs, and you think maybe, for the first time in years, you’ve made a friend. 

The car stops outside the Iceberg Lounge, and you know this is where you part ways with Barsad and face the consequences of leaving without permission. “I had fun tonight,” you admit as you get out of the car. “See you around,” you add, closing the door as Barsad waves and the car takes off. 

–

You walk the short distance from the Iceberg Lounge to Oswald Cobblepot’s more private residence, where he greets you at the door rather than having an assistant do it, and you know things are likely worse than you’d thought. 

“Sir,” you greet, looking at the floor. 

Cobblepot says nothing at first, only slaps you hard right across the face. You hold in the yelp that almost escapes your mouth and look the man in the eyes. “Foolish, ungrateful girl,” he scolds. “Have you any idea what you being seen with Bane and his men could mean for me?” You shake your head as he shoves you against the wall. “It could mean my already fragile alliance with Maroni could shatter! But you don’t care about that, do you, you selfish bitch!” You so badly want to talk back and say you didn’t know, but you know that would only lead to more pain, so you keep quiet. “Back up to the attic, now,” Cobblepot orders. With a nod, you turn to go, but he grabs your arm tightly, and then slides his hand down to yours. Taking your hand, he looks you dead in the eye and snaps your pinky finger in half, causing you to scream. “You don’t really need that one to sew…and if anyone comes looking for you because they saw you tonight, it’s the whole hand, you hear me?” he threatens. Unshed tears line your eyes; you don’t let them fall until he has released your arm and you’re up the stairs in the attic alone. 

–

The next morning, your broken finger wrapped tightly against the one next to it in some extra tulle from your supply, you look through the fabric samples you have stored in the attic, pulling a few options for Bane’s coat and setting them on the table nearby. Lying before you are squares of leather, shear-lined denim and suede, twill, and more. Wincing, you try to ignore the pain in your hand as you open up your notebook to look at the notes you had written down the day before when there is a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, expecting one of Oswald’s assistants to have a delivery for you; they always come by in the morning. Much to your surprise, Bane walks through the door instead. 

“Oh! Hi Bane,” you greet, feeling even smaller next to him than you did yesterday. “I haven’t started on your coat yet, but I was just looking though some fabric samples-” you start, unsure what else to say. He stops you though, reaching for your bandaged hand. 

“What happened here?” he asks, turning your smaller hand over to examine it. 

“Oh, you know, I just…” you trail off. 

“You just what?” Bane pushes, and you look up at him nervously. 

“Well, I’m just not supposed to go out.” 

“For your safety?” he asks, his body already more tense than it was a moment ago. 

“In part,” you mutter. “Can we not talk about it?” you ask, shifting his attention to the fabrics laid out before you. 

“For now,” the large man concedes, and you exhale in relief. 

“So for the coat, I have a few fabrics here, thicker ones to account for the weather, but I wasn’t sure about your color preference, but if you want it lined with something for warmth that limits the options-” you start, unstacking the fabric squares. 

“I like this one,” he says, leaning over your shoulder and pointing to a dark brown suede shearling square of fabric.

“You can touch it,” you say, and as he leans forward to pick it up, his chest presses against your back lightly, comfortably. In an instant, the touch is gone. 

You’re about to tell your boss you’re only down here to get a band-aid, but he speaks first. “Aha! If it isn’t just the person I was hoping to see!” He beckons you over to his office and leads you to one of the plush velvet chairs in front of his desk before walking around to sit behind it. “Take a seat. You too, big man,” he says. The man he’d been standing with before you’d entered the room sat in the chair next to you, and the chair creaked with the effort of supporting him. “This is the tailor I was telling you about!” Cobblepot says, pointing to you with a wide smile. “She makes all my suits, which is why I’m the most dapper man around!” You immediately freeze in your seat. If Cobblepot is acting excited about anything other than a visit from his beloved Edward Nygma, it was most certainly bad news, and as much as you want to stay far away from whatever “it” is, it seems like you’re right in the middle of it. 

“Y/N, meet Bane,” Cobblepot says with grandeur. You look at the man sitting next to you warily. “Bane only just arrived in Gotham last week, and as the king of this city, I like to know who the big players are, and I think this man is going to bring something new to Gotham that can benefit my circle of friends and colleagues greatly…well I suppose it would be more accurate to say he is going to remove something from Gotham.” Bane nods curtly and crosses his arms, clearly growing tired of the Penguin’s little speech. “Alright, so now to the point of you, little tailor. Well you see, Bane here is a large guy, he has some trouble finding comfortable clothes. So I need you to take his measurements and make a few things for him; I’ll let him specify what they are exactly.” Cobblepot stands and makes for the door to escort you and Bane out of his office, but you don’t move. “Y/N, don’t keep me waiting!” Cobblepot snaps. 

Crossing your own arms as you rise from the chair, you take a step towards your boss. “Before I begin working on this…special project,” you start, eyes darting over to Bane before sliding back to Cobblepot. “I want to address the matter of compensation. Making clothes for Bane will require significantly more material as well as more time than your clothes do. With an increased cost of production, the pay should be higher, yes?” you ask, raising a brow as Cobblepot’s own eyebrows slant in anger. 

“You are in no position to be making demands, you little-” he snaps before cutting himself off, remembering he has company. 

“I also need more band-aids for the first aid kit,” you say, refusing to back down. Cobblepot nods and sends you a withering glare that tells you you’re going to regret opening your mouth before escorting you and Bane to the bottom of the stairwell you had descended not long ago. 

“Go take his measurements and compile a list of anything you need that you don’t already have; I’ll have it picked up this evening. And remember my navy and purple suit with the yellow accents needs to be done for tomorrow evening’s function!”

“Yes, boss,” you sigh as he makes his way back into his office and you lead Bane up the stairs. 

–

“Stand here please,” you direct Bane as you grab a stepstool, measuring tape, notebook, and pen from around the room. “So, what will I be making for you?” you ask as you flip to a clean page of the notebook. 

“The first thing I need is a coat,” he answers, and you take in the sound of his voice for the first time. It has a slight lilting quality but sounds menacing all the same, and the mask gives it a tinny undertone. 

You nod and step onto the stool to begin measuring his muscled back over the tight black shirt he wears. “Can you tell me more about the kind of coat you want while I measure?” you ask, using his back to support the notepad as you write down his measurements. He looks over his shoulder at you, glancing down to where you’re writing, but he doesn’t comment. 

“I care about functionality,” he starts. “It seems it can get quite cold here in the wintertime,” he continues, and you move around to his front side and ask him to hold his arms straight out to the sides and measure his chest. He looks down at you as you work, and you write down more measurements. Pulling the stool around, you kneel to measure his waist, listening as he finishes describing the coat he wants. You can’t help but notice his stomach is a bit softer than the rest of him, though there is still certainly muscle there, and it brings you a sense of comfort, reassuring you that the man you’re alone with is human. A very large, strong human who could probably kill you faster than you could blink, but human nonetheless. 

You stand on the stool to measure his height; he’d mentioned wanting a bit of a longer coat, and just as you’re about to write the measurement down–using his body for support, which he had continued to say nothing about–the door bursts open and a man with reddish-brown hair and a five o’clock shadow shouts “Bane!” Your head snaps up, and you’re about to reprimand him for storming in when your weight tips the stool and you fall. You brace for the impact of the hard floor, but it never comes. Instead, you find yourself in Bane’s arms.

“Thanks,” you blush, and he nods as he sets you down. 

“Barsad,” he says, turning to the man who had just stormed in. “I told you I would be out until after dark and not to disturb me. What is it?” Barsad looks between you and Bane, hesitating, but Bane waves him on. 

“We have a date problem back at…well, you know. The woman bribed one of the guards, I suspect Ollie, and he let her go.” Your ears perk up at that as you continue to wind the measuring tape back around the round track you keep it on. “And the event is in an hour and a half.”

“Do you still have the dress?” Bane asks, glancing over at you. 

“We do; it would be a bit difficult to transport,” Barsad explains. “What are you thinking, boss?”

“This one,” Bane says, nodding to you, is a tailor, so if we took her, she could make a few adjustments on the dress and she could stand in as the date.”

“Hold on,” you say, unable to stand by quietly despite your better judgement. “If I’m possibly going to some mystery event, I’d like to know what it is,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“That is none of your concern,” the man, Barsad, says dismissively, about to continue speaking, when Bane holds a hand up and silences him. 

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you, but this woman is someone we are doing business with, so we will play nice for the time being. And if she is to perform the part well, she should know what she will be doing.”

“I am right here!” you say, causing both men to look at you. 

With a deep exhale, Barsad says, “I need someone to take as a plus one to a party tonight, a fancy one.”

You hesitate, wheels spinning in your mind. You know getting involved with whatever these men have going on is a bad idea, but you’re already employed by one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals, so you doubt it can really get much worse. Decision made, you speak up once more. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about the party at Wayne Manor, would you?” you ask. 

“Clever,” Bane says, but you get the feeling he is being condescending, so you send a glare his way. “But you are correct, that is the event.”

“Well…I have always wanted to see the inside of the place,” you admit. “And I’ve been dying to get out of this building for ages!” Bane looks at you in a way you can’t quite decipher, but you brush it aside. 

“So it is settled,” Barsad says. “Now, about this dress we-” he starts.

chapter 1

“Do we know who it’s from?” you asked. 

“The Atwoods,” your mother answered, and your eyebrows raised in shock. “I hope it’s a formal apology for the disaster that was Juliette’s consecration ceremony,” she added. You hadn’t been present at the ceremony, but you’d heard about what had happened from your parents and your best friend, Akio Sugimoto. You and Akio had become friends over spring break one year in elementary school, when both his parents and yours decided to spend the break in Hawaii. Even though you had only seen him a couple times since then, you two had kept in touch and managed to form a close friendship nurtured by lengthy facetime calls and inside jokes. 

“Well, let’s find out,” your father said, finally opening the envelope with an old brass letter opener. From inside, he pulled out a pale pink card, which read:

The Atwood-Fairmont Family cordially invites you to  the Spousal Selection Ceremony of Elinor Davina Atwood-Fairmont Madrid, Spain | beginning on the first full moon of spring

Your mother pursed her lips as she read the curved text. “While it is not the apology I was hoping for, this is good. Of course, this is likely an attempt to appease the Legacies by giving anyone with an eligible son a chance at marrying the future Keeper of the Emerald Malkia, but even so, it is an opportunity to gain some influence with the other Legacies.”

“Why focus on the other Legacies?” you chimed in. “Elinor and I are roughly the same age, and from what I’ve heard, she’s relatively shallow. And you know how it goes, chicks before dicks and all that.” 

“While I appreciate your forward thinking,” your father began calmly. “Your cousin Jonathan will be competing for her hand, so we are hoping to gain influence that way.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Your parents were always underestimating you. On the outside, you smiled and nodded; you knew fighting would just waste time that could be spent planning. 

“That being said, we will have to go shopping for more formal attire seeing as the selection could last longer than the usual Legacy gathering,” your mother said. “And I think it would be a waste of a perfectly good Saturday to sit around and do nothing, so you and I,” she locked eyes with you, “will do shopping and talk about appropriate behavior while your father makes a few phone calls to coordinate with the Sugimotos, the Savellis, and other Legacy families.”

–

The day went by slowly as you and your mother stopped at what felt like every high-end clothing store in the city. After putting the shopping bags in the car, you climbed into the passenger’s seat exhausted and ready to go home. Beside you, your mother inhaled sharply, and you knew she was about to give you a lecture about appropriate behaviour, just as she did before every Legacy function for as long as you could remember. 

“Remember,” she began. “Absolutely no funny business; you are not going there to have a good time. Everything that you do reflects on our family, and if I so much as hear one word about you acting like a goddamn fool, you will be on the next available flight home. And I expect you to reign in that snarky streak you have, for it will not be tolerated. Everything you say should serve to bolster Jonathan’s position with Elinor or our family’s reputation. The third thing is that while you should be on the lookout for a future partnership for yourself, don’t take any action. Everything goes through your father and I first. And last but not least, any weaknesses that you spot in the Atwood-Fairmont family, you report back to me. Do I make myself clear?” she asked, eyes hard as she looked at you before turning back to the road. 

“Woah, woah, I said maybe!” Eddie answers as he pulls his shirt over his head and walks back towards his room, ready to get dressed for the day. The moment he finishes speaking, he feels the tough texture left behind by the burn in his mouth cool and fade, and a small smile settles on his lips. “Thanks, buddy,” he says. 

“...Now can we get the tree?” Venom asks. 

Sighing, Eddie says, “Yes, we can get the tree, just as soon as I’ve set up this interview.” Venom hums and Eddie takes that as him agreeing and continues with his morning routine. 

Venom stays silent and still as Eddie talks on the phone and schedules an interview, thoughts of Christmas filling his mind. From what he has seen in Eddie’s memories and on television, Venom has gathered that Christmas is about two things: people you love and presents. Unexpectedly, Venom starts to feel unsure about a lot of things. Eddie has some Christmas traditions; would he want Venom to be a part of them? What would he get for Eddie? Would Eddie get anything for him? Just as he starts to spiral, Eddie says, “You can come out now, V! Let me grab my wallet and put my shoes on, and then we can go.” He has a relaxed smile on his face, and Venom thinks to himself: this is when he is happy. How can I make him feel like this for Christmas?

- December 21st -

“Eddie, Eddie! Today we are going to decorate the tree!” Venom says, pulling Eddie from his sleep and extending a tentacle holding a mug of fresh coffee towards him. 

“Yeah, but not at,” Eddie pauses to look at the clock on his nightstand, “7:15 in the morning,” he grumbles. 

“That is why I made the disgusting drink you like so much,” Venom explains. Eddie just rolls his eyes and gets up, ready to get to work. 

An hour later, Eddie sits on the couch, Venom’s head floating next to him, to admire their handiwork. “You know, V, you’re pretty good at this whole tree decorating thing,” he muses. 

“Of course I am, Eddie,” Venom replies. “I do not know how you get anything done with so few arms.” Eddie chuckles and that same smile from the day before once again appeared on his face.

“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie jokes. Turning to Venom, he continues, “I don’t really have anything to do today; do you want to watch a Christmas movie?”

“I would like to watch Elf. The internet says it is very funny,” Venom says.

“Really? Because I was thinking we could watch “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” Eddie replies, fighting not to smirk.

“Why?”

“Well, you know, weirdly-colored not-human thing living far away from civilization-” Venom playfully slaps Eddie with a tentacle, causing him to break and release the laugh he’d been holding back. 

“No, we are watching Elf,” Venom insists. 

“Alright, Elf it is,” Eddie says as he begins to set the television up. 

- December 22nd -

The interview Eddie had set up the day prior has been going on for the past hour, and Venom is starting to get bored. So far, he has occupied himself by moving around in Eddie’s body, but he decides it’s time to see how much longer he’ll have to hide. “Eddie, how much longer?” he asks in Eddie’s mind. 

Eddie glances at his watch and mutters “Twenty, max,” into his shoulder. The artist across from him raises a brow and twists their lips, so Eddie plays it off as a cough to the best of his ability. The next twenty minutes are some of the slowest in Venom’s life. But, he knows how much Eddie hates it when they interrupt him when he’s working, so he remains silent. 

As they leave the coffee shop where the interview had taken place, Venom suddenly stops Eddie in his tracks. “What is that?” he asks, extending a tendril from the crook of Eddie’s neck to point at the marshmallow and whipped cream covered drink in a passing stranger’s hand. 

“Oh that? That, my friend, is hot chocolate. Anne used to make it all the time when it got cold out. It never tastes as good when I make it, so I haven’t had it much lately.” Venom hums noncommittally, a melancholic feeling washing over them as Eddie reminisces about Anne. That has been happening a lot more lately, they notice. “Tell you what, V,” Eddie says. “Why don’t we walk a few blocks to the holiday market and get some before we go home?”

Shortly thereafter, two large takeaway cups of hot chocolate in hand, Eddie ducks into an alleyway, and Venom emerges from his shoulder so they can enjoy their hot chocolate together. 

- December 23rd -

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon line, and Eddie is standing in front of the mirror with Venom fussing over his hair and outfit. “Venom, why do I have to look so nice, we aren’t trying to get Annie back or do anything funny, remember?” he scowls. 

“Don’t pout, Eddie, we like to look good for Anne! And Dan, too! Besides, she will probably want to take pictures.” Eddie sighs and nods, letting Venom pull various items out of his closet until he has decided on an acceptable outfit. In the end, Eddie is wearing a dark red sweater under his signature leather jacket and dark designer jeans with leather boots. 

“We should get going, we don’t want whatever Anne has cooked to get cold before we arrive,” Eddie says, turning away from the mirror. On the way out, Venom grabs the bottle of wine Eddie had left on the counter to take to dinner and delivers it into Eddie’s hands before disappearing back inside Eddie. “Thanks, V” Eddie smiles. 

“You are welcome,” he replies. 

“Come on in,” Anne greets when Eddie rings the doorbell after parking the motorcycle down the street. “You look nice,” she nods in approval.

“Thanks. Oh, this is for you,” he says, holding the wine bottle out to Anne, who accepts it and leads him into the kitchen, where Dan is adding garnish to a chicken dish. “Dan, nice to see you,” Eddie greets.

“Likewise!” Dan says and makes his way over to shake Eddie’s hand. “Is uh…are you-” he starts awkwardly. 

“Yeah, Venom is here,” he says at the same time that Venom forms a floating head connected to Eddie by just a few strands of gooey material at the back of his shoulder. 

“Merry Christmas, Dan! Merry Christmas, Anne!” Venom says loudly. 

“Merry Christmas, Venom,” Anne replies fondly. “Dinner is ready, let’s head into the dining room,” she says and falls into step beside Dan. At the threshold of the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, Dan and Anne pause, and Dan leans down to kiss Anne. “Mind the mistletoe,” Anne teases over her shoulder to Eddie and Venom before looking up to the plant hanging above her. Eddie laughs and shakes his head, walking under the mistletoe without pause, and Venom makes a mental note to ask Eddie about the mysterious ceiling-plant later. 

- December 24th -

Venom has been more quiet than usual this morning, and Eddie notices. “Hey, V, everything alright?” he asks after Venom fails to comment on how disgusting coffee is by Eddie’s third sip. 

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Are you sure? Because you are being really quiet this morning.”

“I am just thinking,” they reply.

“Well that’s dangerous,” Eddie jokes. “What are you thinking about?”

Venom hesitates before answering, “Mistletoe. Why do we not have any?” 

Eddie coughs and sputters, cheeks turning rosy, and he says, “Well, mistletoe… the thing about mistletoe is that you are supposed to kiss someone if you’re standing under it together. So it works well at parties, you know, when there are a lot of people. But here, it’s just us, so it doesn’t really make any sense,” Eddie explains.

“Then why do Anne and Dan have it?”

“Because Anne and Dan have friends who come over for holiday parties,” Eddie answers quickly. He takes a breath and adds, “And because they are in a relationship.”

“If they are in a relationship, then they can kiss anytime they want. Having a plant to tell them when to kiss makes no sense!” 

“I guess it doesn’t,” Eddie muses. “But it’s a fun holiday tradition,” he shrugs. 

“But you did not want to kiss me under the mistletoe,” Venom points out. Eddie's cheeks go from a light pink to a deep red in just a few seconds, and Venom feels his heart rate spike. 

“Well you and I are, um, we-”

“Yes, Eddie?”

“We aren’t that, we aren’t a couple, so I can’t just kiss you, especially not in front of my ex-fiancee and her new fiancee!”

“What about when we are here?” Venom pushes. 

“Venom, I don’t want to kiss you, okay! Sometimes, I don’t even want to talk to you! Just shut up about it!” Eddie snaps, and Venom stills beside him. Without a word, Venom dissolves against his skin and settles silently inside him. 

Eddie regrets yelling at Venom almost instantly, but he knows that if he says something, he’ll have to explain, and he isn’t ready for that. How can he tell Venom that for a while now, but during the past month especially, he has felt differently towards them? That Venom’s enthusiasm to decorate the Christmas tree not only gave him hope that the holidays wouldn’t be lonely this year, even though Annie isn’t here, but also made him think that they could even be better? That the sight of Venom licking the last dregs of hot chocolate mix out of a cup made him think about that tongue in completely inappropriate ways? He couldn’t. 

Eddie and Venom don’t speak for the rest of the day. Eddie just hopes things will be okay in the morning. 

- December 25th -

Eddie is pleased to wake up on Christmas morning to the smell of coffee next to him, and he is even happier to see that it’s just after 9:00 in the morning. He smiles, ready to thank Venom, when he pauses. Venom didn’t wake him up this morning. He looks around the apartment quickly, as though that would give him some kind of reassurance that Venom hasn’t left, when he finds the note:

Dear Eddie, 

Merry Christmas. I did not know what to get you, but last night you helped me figure out the perfect gift: you have a whole day to yourself, where you will not have to hear me think or talk.

- Venom

Eddie sets the note down and stands in shock for a moment. Did Venom mean he’d left Eddie’s body and would be back, or was he still there, just silent and still? And if he’d left, where would he go? Would he be okay? Eddie is starting to freak out at this point and gets dressed and brushes his teeth and rushes out the door, turning to stuff the note in his pocket at the last moment. 

Unthinking, he speeds towards Anne’s house and once he’s there, he’s knocking frantically. She opens the door, and he shoves past her, looking around before turning to her. “Have you seen Venom?” he asks. 

“What?”

“Have you seen Venom!” he repeats as he takes the crumpled note out of his pocket and shoves it into her hands forcefully. “Look,” he says, unable to resist reading the words once again. She doesn’t answer right away, taking time to read the note.

Then she looks up, shoulders slumped downward, and asks “What did you do?”

“I yelled at them,” Eddie admits quietly, shame heating his face. “I don’t know, I freaked out, and I just–I’ve yelled at him before, maybe he finally had too much.” 

“Hold on, don’t freak out,” Anne says, pacing a few steps back and forth. 

“I’m already freaked out!” Eddie snaps back. 

“Okay, well what did you and Venom argue about?” Anne asks. “Maybe that will help us figure out how to get him to come out.”

“That’s if he’s still here in the first place!”

“They are, I can tell,” Anne says, eyeing Eddie.

“How? I can’t tell and it’s my body!” Eddie replies, patting himself down and turning around in a circle to look over his shoulder in search of Venom. 

“I just can, but that’s not important,” she sighs. “Now stop moving around and tell me what you two were arguing about.”

Eddie stills, hesitating before he speaks. “Mistletoe.”

That stops Anne in her tracks. “Mistletoe?”

“Yeah. V had all these questions and he was confused and I think maybe I offended him or something…” he trails off.

“And?” Anne prompts.

“And what?”

“I know you, so I know there’s more you’re not saying. Out with it, now.”

Eddie runs his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. “I said that I don’t want to kiss him… and that sometimes I don’t even want to talk to him.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Anne says, deflating. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Hey! Wait, what?” he asks, dropping his hands. Anne pinches the bridge of her nose and leads Eddie over to the couch and takes a seat beside him. 

“You know Venom has been looking out for you for a while, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see where you’re going with this,” Eddie says, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Then why would you tell him you don’t want to kiss him?” Annie accuses. 

“Wh-because I don’t!” Eddie replies too fast and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You do. I’ve noticed things between you two are different, and that’s okay! And you can’t seriously expect me to believe you’d rather not talk to him,” Anne adds. 

All of a sudden, Eddie’s defenses drop. “Yeah, you’re right. It has only been last night and this morning, but… I miss him,” he says. “I’m scared, Annie,” he whispers. “What if he left last night and something happened and I can’t do anything?” he confesses, unshed tears making his eyes glassy. 

“He didn’t leave, I already told you. Now, I have an idea, okay?” Anne says and rests a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to throw a knife at me or something, right?” Eddie asks, trying to lighten the mood, but the joke falls flat. 

“No,” Anne smiles sadly. “Now walk over there,” she points to the mistletoe, “and talk to him. Be honest. I’ll be upstairs; I’m going to take Dan some coffee,” she says, rising and exiting the room. I hope this works, Eddie thinks to himself before striding over to the doorway and standing under the mistletoe. 

“Alright, V. I hope you’re in there and that you’re listening,” he breathes out shakily. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and for the things I said. They aren’t true. The truth is that–okay, I really hope you’re listening because this is going to be really embarrassing otherwise–I really want to kiss you under the mistletoe. And not under the mistletoe. I just want to kiss you, I have for a while now, I think. And I like that we can talk all the time, even if I shouldn’t be talking to you at a certain time, like at work or something, because I still want to. And I was, I am, nervous because well, I’ve never wanted to kiss–and maybe do some other stuff,” he adds, blushing, “with an alien that lives in my body, so it’s all a little unprecedented, so if you’re in there listening, can you please come out right now so I can kiss you under this stupid plant?” 

For a moment, nothing happens, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until now, and he wipes his cheek dry only for it to be licked by what is unmistakably Venom’s tongue. Eddie looks up and finds himself pressed against the thin edge of the doorway and Venom’s hulking black figure leaning over him. Eddie searches his opal eyes for something he can’t quite name before thinking fuck it and standing up on his tiptoes to pull Venom in for a kiss. When he finally pulls back, he meets Venom’s toothy smile with one of his own and says “Merry Christmas, V.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie,” Venom answers. “Can we do that again?”

“I’d love to,” Eddie smiles, laughing as Venom reaches up and rips the mistletoe down. 

“It is in the way, I do not like the feeling of it on the back of my head,” they explain. They both lean in for another kiss only to be interrupted by Anne, who is standing just a few feet away next to Dan, clearing her throat. Eddie groans at the mirthful glimmer in Anne’s eyes, knowing he’s about to regret ever coming here. 

“I’m glad you two figured things out,” Dan starts diplomatically, only to be interrupted by Anne.

“Me too,” Anne says with a smirk. “But why don’t you both go home; we can meet up tonight for dinner, okay?” Eddie nods and Venom morphs into his floating head form.

“That would be very nice, thank you, Anne!” he says.

“No problem, big guy,” she says, winking. “See you later. Merry Christmas!”

“He’ll be home soon,” she said. “It’s funny–I find that I sometimes miss his grumpy presence, especially when the younger Grisha start acting up. No one can get people to fall in line like Ivan,” she mused. Fedyor chuckled at that, nodding in agreement. “Did you see the schedule changes for next month?” she asked after swallowing a bite of her syrup-saturated waffles.

“No,” Fedyor replied. “What are the changes?”

“You’re on the afternoon shift now, which means I have to actually get out of bed by eight…” she groaned, earning a proper laugh out of Fedyor.

“I suppose it will be nice to sleep in. And without Vanya here to drag me out of bed at six every morning, I might actually start to feel well-rested again,” he smiled.

“He still does physical training at six?” Nina asked incredulously. “That was only required when Botkin was putting us through training!”

“I know,” Fedyor agreed. “But he does it, and he even seems to like it. Something about the cool fresh air and no one else being around.” Nina nodded, but she still looked skeptical.

“Quite strange. Anyway, I have a meeting with Zoya, but I’ll see you later,” Nina smiled as she stood and excused herself. Fedyor waved goodbye as she turned to go and surveyed the lunch options. Gone were herring and stale rye; instead, there were berries and popovers, honey and salt, a thick stew and mashed potatoes, and there was even a sweet merengue dessert. Since Nikolai’s coronation, the food at the Little Palace had gotten noticeably better; Nikolai figured that the money he no longer had to dedicate to make trips across the fold should go towards improving things at the Little Palace, much to the delight of everyone there. Still enamoured with the new delicacies, Fedyor grabbed a plate and tried a little bit of everything, amazed by the flavors and textures of the food. As he stood up to leave the dining hall, he grabbed a second merengue–he’d always had a sweet tooth.

Since Ivan had been sent to the front, Fedyor had kept up their morning routine out of habit, running at six before showering, eating, and going to train young Grisha at eight. But now, with the change in schedule, he had no need to be awake and ready by eight in the morning, and slowly, the routine fell apart. He slept in until nine, showered and got dressed, and went straight to the dining hall to eat before returning to his desk to do some paperwork. Then he would eat lunch and afterwards, he would train Grisha. After a few hours of training during what was usually the hottest part of the day, he wanted nothing more than to eat a good dinner, finish any paperwork that demanded his immediate attention, and curl up in bed. And every day, that is what he did.

The changes were small at first, the way his abs were just a little less defined and his arms weren’t as toned. Every once in a while, on a hot day, he would find himself slightly out of breath after walking up a flight of stairs too quickly. It didn’t hit Fedyor until three days before Ivan was scheduled to return, when he looked at himself in the mirror as he was getting dressed: he’d gotten chubby. His face paled and he turned in the mirror, noting the way his kefta, which had once been loose, now hugged his stomach and showed the outline of his tummy. His shirt, which he always tucked into his trousers, rode up and hugged his chest and midsection. And his pants, hidden beneath his kefta, definitely felt more snug. Once he was dressed, he ran out of his room, straight past the dining hall, and made a beeline for Genya’s workshop.

“Genya!” he called as he burst into the room. The redhead looked up from her desk, where she had been taking stock of her inventory. “Thank god you are here! I need you to fix me before Ivan gets back.” Genya looked at him in confusion.

“Fedyor, what are you talking about?” Though he’d paled alone in his room thinking about his body, now he flushed bright red.

“Genya, I have obviously not kept up with Ivan’s regimen while he was away, and I look… damn it, I look fat, okay? I need you to fix it!” Fedyor didn’t realize how panicked he sounded until Genya walked over and held both of his hands with her own, led him to the couch, and sat down beside him.

“Fedyor,” she started, voice soft. “There is nothing to fix, not a single thing.”

“But-” he started.

“No buts,” she cut him off. “Just listen.” Fedyor looked at her doubtfully, but she held his gaze until he nodded. “Gaining weight is not a bad thing,” she started, glaring at him before he could protest. “For years, we have not only been at war, but also struggling to make ends meet within our own country, and the only food available was pickled fish and stale bread, and not nearly enough of it. We had to ration. No one in the Little Palace was getting the food they needed. But now we have more resources, and we can afford to eat the way we should have been eating the whole time. With your body so used to living on next to nothing, of course you are going to gain some weight with a new diet, but there is nothing wrong with that–it’s a sign of healing, Fedyor. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Fedyor didn’t realize he was crying until Genya pulled him in for a tight hug.

With his arms wrapped around her, his mouth was right by her ear, and he whispered what had truly been plaguing his mind: “What if Ivan doesn’t like it?” he asked, voice trembling. Genya shook her head and pulled back to look at Fedyor directly, still holding onto his shoulders.

“First of all, that would never happen–Ivan is head over heels for you, Fedya. But, if it ever did, he would only show himself to be a lesser man than I thought. I would beat the idiot up myself, and I know Zoya, Nina, Nikolai, and even David would join me.” She and Fedyor shared a smile over the mental image of all Fedyor’s friends beating Ivan up before she wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Now, let’s get you something for breakfast–don’t even try to protest. It can be healthy if you want, but I will not stand by while you skip a meal. Ivan would have my head.” Now fully smiling, Fedyor rose from the couch, hand in hand with Genya, and made his way to the dining hall for breakfast.

Fedyor tried to stay awake to greet Ivan when he returned, but as the hours ticked by and his eyes grew heavy, sleep overtook him, and he fell asleep in their bed. He thought he felt the rustling of sheets at some point in the night, but that could very well have been a dream. Fedyor snuggled deeper into the blankets, dreaming of Ivan.

The next morning, as the sun was starting to rise, Fedyor woke up, pleased to find Ivan beside him in the bed. He smiled, also happy that his lover hadn’t woken up quite yet; he’d gotten home rather late and needed to sleep. Slipping out of bed, Fedyor padded over to the closet and pulled on a white undershirt to fight the chill in the air and tucked it into a pair of black trousers. He reached up to grab his kefta from where it was hanging on a hook on the inside of the closet door, always just above his reach before he stood on his tiptoes, and his undershirt slipped free from his trousers, riding up and exposing just a sliver of his soft tummy. He heard a sharp inhale and looked to the bed, where he found Ivan was staring.

“Vanya!” he said, panicking. “I thought you would be asleep a little bit longer.”

“Fedya,” he said, voice rough and low, as he rose from the bed. Ivan walked over to him, drinking in his whole appearance, eyes scanning his body. Then, as though he hadn’t just gotten what was likely less than four hours of sleep, Ivan pulled him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist before pulling back to kiss him hungrily. Fedyor wrapped his arms around Ivan’s shoulders and the taller man crowded him against the wall next to the closet.

“It has been,” Ivan growled between kisses, “far too long, lyubimiy.” Fedyor smiled into the kiss and Ivan’s hands moved lower, reaching for his ass. Fedyor was suddenly acutely aware of how his body had changed since Ivan had last seen him and pulled back.

“Wait!” he said. Ivan stilled, a nervous look on his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” Fedyor started. “I just…” with a sigh, he untangled himself from Ivan and led him to the bed, and took a seat on the edge of the mattress next to him. “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t exactly getting dressed to go for a run this morning… I haven’t been doing them for a while.” Fedyor fought the urge to squirm in his seat, rushing to get the words out. “Which you probably noticed, and if you keep kissing me like that, like you want to rip my clothes off and fuck me… you might not like what you see,” he said shamefully.

Ivan cupped his cheek. “Fedya, look at me. Yes, I did notice that your shirt is tighter,” he started, and Fedyor braced for the worst. “But I do not know why you are worried, lyubimiy; you look healthy and you seem happy, and that is all that matters. I know that the food has probably been better here than it was when I was last here, and I am happy to see that you are enjoying it.”

“You’re not upset that I got a little, um…soft?”

“No,” Ivan grinned. “It is like I said, you look healthy. And…” He blushed, which was a rare sight since the two of them had gotten together years ago.

“What?” Fedyor pressed. Ivan groaned and guided Fedyor’s hand to his crotch, where he was half hard under his boxers.

“Seeing just a peek of skin under your shirt was enough for me to get like this, so I think you will understand when I way I do not care, I just missed you.” Fedyor’s face split into a smile and he surged forward to kiss Ivan as the other man grabbed his hips and pulled him into his lap so that he was straddling Ivan. Moaning into the kiss, Fedyor started grinding his hips down against Ivan, and before he could even blink, Fedyor found himself flipped onto his back beneath Ivan, who was kissing up and down his neck and pulling at his clothes desperately. “Oh, Fedya,” he moaned, tossing Fedyor’s shirt and trousers and underwear to the side. “You are so beautiful, and I have missed you so much,” Ivan moaned.

With a playful smirk, Fedyor replied, “Then fuck me like it, Vanya,” his tone slightly cocky. Ivan growled, and Fedyor smiled as Ivan pulled away to spread Fedyor’s legs further apart.

“I will,” Ivan grinned wickedly, sending a shiver up Fedyor’s spine.

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