Chapter Text
We’re hungry.
No. No, not this again.
We’ve been hungry, Bucky. So, so hungry for so, so long.
He thought it was gone. It had left him alone for months, and it should be gone.
Bucky staggers into the kitchen, knocking some glasses and plates to the floor as his body leans desperately over the table. His hair is wet and thick from the sudden, inhuman amount of sweat on his forehead. But his unexplained rise in body heat is the least of his worries.
Because it’s hungry, and he feels what it feels. So he’s desperately, pathetically hungry.
We need meat, Bucky! Check the fridge.
His body moves of its own accord, stomping over to the fridge and nearly tearing the door off it in a desperate search for food. He throws jugs and bags and whatever isn’t meat to the floor.
“You can’t just— my food, my house, my body.” Bucky protests, in a pathetic and exhausted mumble that does absolutely nothing to stop it.
Eventually it finds some raw steak that was supposed to be Bucky’s dinner. He instead shoves it, in huge handfuls, into his mouth repeatedly.
This isn’t good enough. Hm. I’ll find us some real meat, Bucky.
“No, please stop it.” He responds out loud, after finishing the last of the steak. “Just leave me alone. You can’t control me, you can’t.”
Venom tries dragging them to the nearest window, but in his hurry, just ends up stumbling over himself. Bucky falls to the floor, shaking and sweating while still so, so hungry. He rakes his nails through his hair in what was supposed to be comforting, but feels more like an attempt at tearing the monster out of his brain.
We’re not a monster. We are Venom.
“I hate you. I hate you so much.” He sobs.
You’re just upset because we’re hungry. Come, Bucky.
He stands up sharply, completely against his will.
I’ll find us some delicious food. Some pure, human flesh that will keep us satisfied for days.
“What?”
He’s quickly reminded of all the times Venom would take over his body, murdering and feasting on anyone that HYDRA thought necessary. It was so long ago, but it still keeps him up and terrorizes his every move. A part of him that he couldn’t escape, even when Venom left his mind for all those years.
He’s walking towards the door. He’s reaching for the handle.
“No! We can’t kill anybody, ever. Just get out of my head.”
Why must you be so stubborn-
His phone rings.
It distracts Venom just long enough for Bucky to retake control, and run across the room to his phone.
Bucky! We need to eat!
It protests as he accepts the call, not even checking who it’s from.
“Hey Buck, how’re you doing?”
It’s Steve.
Steve Rogers? Oh, we like him. He can call us.
“Hey, uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m just great.”
“You sound out of breath. Is everything okay over there?”
“I’m good. I’m good, I just need to—“
Bucky drops the phone as he gags out air, twice, leaving a horrible burning in his throat. The raw meat isn’t sitting well with him at all, and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before it lands it’s disgusting mess out on the kitchen floor.
So he ignores Steve’s various questions and runs into the bathroom, making it just in time to hurl the complete contents of his stomach up and into the toilet.
It sends a dreadful shiver through his skin. And a dripping in his nose, and a teariness in his eyes that’s making it hard to see.
I told you that meat wasn’t good. We need real food, Bucky! Oh, but first we should check on Steve Rogers.
Even though he’d love nothing more than to lay down, Venom drags Buckys body back to the kitchen and picks up the phone.
Talk to him!
“…Hey Steve.” Bucky obeys halfheartedly.
“Did you just vomit?”
“Kind of. There’s a lot going on with me right now, but I’m okay.”
“Okay. Do you want me to come over? I’m not too sure what’s happening with you, but I think we’ll both feel better if you let me help.”
“I don’t know-”
Yes! Bring him here now!
“-I’m not sure if this is something you can even help with.”
“Please, Buck? Just let me try, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
Well. He’d always considered his Venom problem to be more or less permanent, but if anyone could get rid of it— or at least know someone who can, it’d be Steve.
“…Alright.”
“Good. I’ll be there in 15.”
***
So 15 minutes somehow turns into an hour. And while yes, Venom has an odd, unexplained affinity for Steve, his patience could only last so long.
Especially when he’s this hungry.
“Bucky?”
Steve decides to let himself into the apartment when he gets no answer. He obviously feels bad for taking so long, especially when his help had been so hesitantly accepted, but when Avengers emergencies (however small) pop up, you can’t really ignore it.
He’d been trying so hard lately to get Bucky to open up to him, so it tears Steve apart to have practically abandoned him the one time he does.
“I’ll make it up to him. He’ll understand why I’m late, and then I’ll make it up to him.” He mumbles to himself.
He makes his way into the kitchen, which is just a complete wreck. Various foods and silverware’s are sprawled all across the floor, complimented by a knocked-over table and Buckys phone, still open on their call, abandoned in the wreckage of it all.
A million dangerous scenarios flash through Steve’s mind. But more than anything, he’s left with one absolutely sickening thought.
If Bucky is dead right now, it’s all my fault.
“Bucky! Are you here— please be here!”
He sprints through as many rooms as he can in as least time as possible. It’s fairly easy, considering the size of the apartment, and in a matter of seconds he’d found what he’s looking for.
Bucky. Bucky, who is curled up on the floor of his bedroom. He has a blanket pulled over his head and around his body, and his fists are tight over his ears, and he’s breathing loud and fast like he’s absolutely terrified. Steve is faintly reminded of a child waking up from a nightmare.
He gets down on his knees. “Bucky? Is everything okay?” He whispers.
“…Steve?”
Bucky sheds the blanket, looking to his best friend with uncertainty.
“No, no he won’t do that. Please just— I need to think for a second.”
He mutters to himself, not quite looking at Steve as he does. Steve glances around, confused, but persists nonetheless.
“Is someone else here?”
“What? Oh, umm.” Bucky flinches, as if someone just screamed in his ear. “He won’t understand, okay? I just need a minute—“
“What won’t I understand? Please, just give me something. Let me help you.”
“…Okay. Okay, right, so there’s this, uh, thing. In my head, and sometimes in my body.”
Steve sits in silence, still very lost but trying his best to understand as he leans closer in. Bucky, meanwhile, is still very tired and very hungry, and feels like a barely functioning corpse of himself. So stringing words together, especially to describe a concept as complex and inhuman as this, is far from easy.
You’re making things too confusing. Just tell him, and then we can go eat.
“No. So there’s a, well I think it’s an alien? It went away for a while but now it’s back and it’s— I mean it’s awful.”
Asshole.
“It’s like I can’t control myself. It’s like I don’t own my body anymore, and nothing makes it leave me alone. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t feel safe, or like I’m safe to be around other people, and I— can you fix this, Steve?”
They’re both silent. Even Venom holds its breath as they wait for a response.
“I don’t know. But I’ll try.”
He doesn’t understand, no, he doesn’t have any idea what Bucky is going through right now. And no amount of words could possibly convey how terrifying it is to have this foreign, dangerous creature possessing your body and destroying your life.
But he’s trying. He’s trying so, so hard to understand and make things better. And maybe that’s enough.
“Okay. We’ll try.”
You’ll fail.
Steve gently pulls Bucky to his feet. “It’s late. Here, we’ll go back to my place and you can get some rest. We’ll start on it in the morning.”
They start walking out of the bedroom, slowly making their way to the door. Venom doesn’t interfere.
“Your place? I thought you were living at the Avengers tower?”
“Is that bad? I mean you said you don’t feel safe. Nothing safer than a building full of superheroes.” He lightly jokes.
“I don’t wanna be around a lot of people, Stevie. Especially not now.”
“You don’t have to. You can just stay in my room for a few days, and nobody will come bother you because nobody will know. Well, except Tony I guess. He’s got a ton of security cameras. But I’ll make him leave you alone.”
“…Okay. But just for a few days, while we figure this out.”
“Right. We get in, get rid of the alien in your head, and get out. This’ll be over with before you know it.”
The two get in Steve’s car and drive away. Away from the small, now trashed apartment and towards the Avengers tower.
Steve’s home. And, temporarily, Bucky’s too.
Despite everything, he smiles a little at the thought.