This is a fill for today’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF364 Say My Name] as well as my @winterironevents Round 4 bingo square I5- Waking Up in Bed Together.
Fandom: MCU/Marvel
Pairing: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes
Rating: Mature
Tags: One Night Stand, Morning After, Mutual Interests, Fluff
Summary: Tony is embarrassed to realize he can’t quite remember the name of the one night stand he brought home.
Word Count: 425
Tony had never been a fan of mornings, even when (and sometimes especially) when they turned out to be a morning after a one night stand. Thankfully, he only had a bit of a hangover, and while the ache in certain parts of his body was a pleasant reminder of the amazing sexing up he’d gotten (and given, he devoutly hoped), it was going to make sitting down for the next day or two a bit uncomfortable.
The worst part of the otherwise quite memorable evening was, well, Tony couldn’t quite remember the name of the guy he’d taken home with him. The only thing he could recall was that it was a nickname - something that no self-respecting adult should go by - but it somehow worked for the guy.
“You awake, sweetheart?” a deep, sleep-rough voice murmured in his ear.
“Barely, and against my will.” Tony muttered, pulling the blankets up over his head in an effort to avoid the issue. They were spooned up together, a broad hand wrapped around Tony’s middle. Tony certainly didn’t mind a bit of post-coital cuddling, and he’d almost forgotten how nice it was to wake up in someone’s arms.
His partner let out a snort of laughter. “I sympathize, believe me.” He gave Tony a gentle squeeze before disentangling himself and sitting up. “Any chance you’ve got a coffeemaker? My caffeine levels are dangerously low.”
“You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to,” Tony replied with a chuckle, pleased to discover they had something else in common besides enjoying a hookup. “My espresso machine would make the average barista fall to their knees.” He snaked one hand out of the blankets to reach for his phone. “It’s wi-fi enabled. Give me just a sec to get it started.”
Another huff of warm laughter made Tony's heart unexpectedly skip a beat. “You are a goddamned genius! But … I gotta confess something.” Tony’s heart sank, and he rolled over to once again get lost in the storm-blue gaze he vividly recalled from the night before (Along with the long dark hair, the broad chest and scruff that had left quite the beard burn).
“Oh god - you’re married,” Tony blurted out.
“No, no, nothing like that. I’d never… “ his bedmate hurried to reassure him. “It’s just - well,” he stammered, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, “I really don’t have an idea of who I’m talking to.”
Tony bit back a laugh of relief; afraid it would be taken the wrong way. “It’s okay, sunshine. I can’t remember your name either!”
I'm so excited to participate in this newly discovered (to me) event.
As someone who doesn't typically have a lot of works in progress that aren't immediately posted upon finishing them, I can't say I don't have any.
This week will be a fun time exploring them and seeing what all comes of it.
Onto the main reason for this post...
My oldest WIP has to be A Dream on a Mean Machine.
I know I have older ones, but this is the oldest one I have on my AO3 which is what we're going to be using for this week.
It's a Bucky Barnes fic set in a slightly divergent verse of the MCU canon. Bucky's been rescued from Hydra and has moved into the Avengers' Tower with the others. He's also been set up to go on a blind date with Sam's and Tony's help.
It's also an AU where we meet a Hair Stylist!Reader who loves the musicals, Grease and Grease 2, and who also helps clean up Bucky's hair and beard for his big date. Her love is so strong that the salon/barber shop is completely inspired by the musicals complete with Pink Lady salon chairs and T-Bird barber chairs. The salon is also so popular that the workers there have codenames to help protect their private lives especially with their connections to the Avengers. Our Reader here is actually codenamed Stephanie Zinone after a main character of Grease 2.
There is definitely chemistry between the two even though he's going on a date with someone else.
I've actually written and posted the first chapter and quite proud of the tension I managed to create between them. However, I got hit by writer's block on how I wanted the next part(s) to go. It's been sitting unfinished on AO3 (linked above) since August of 2025.
But, time has given me the chance to figure out where I want the story to go. It's even helped to increase the number of remaining parts from 2 or 3 to upwards of 5 with the possibility of more. I really, truly hope that I can keep up the tension I started writing between them for the remaining parts of their story.
It's also my hope to add a few other stories to this verse with other characters from other fandoms that'll eventually pair up with other Readers from the Hair Salon/Barber Shop where they work. Eventual stories would include Steve Rogers (MCU), Jake Jensen from The Losers, and Dennis Baker (a Chris Evans' character from a Jimmy Kimmel skit) with the possibility of Sam Wilson (MCU) joining the lineup as well.
If you'd like a little taste though before clicking the AO3 link above, you can read a bit of the beginning below the cut here...
“Hey, Stef, you going to be okay?” your brother asked from the back doorway.
You looked up from where you’d been giving your workstation another spot clean. Nothing could be less than perfect for this next client. Not with the obscene amount of money being paid to rent out your entire salon for this new VIP.
“I’ll be fine, Davey. Take the others out to a nice lunch. I should be done here in a couple of hours.”
Your brother hesitated another moment before he finally nodded. His footsteps retreated until you could no longer make them out.
A glance at the clock on the far wall warned you your client should be there any moment.
When you’d spoken to both Pepper Potts and Tony Stark about renting out your salon, they never once mentioned who the client would be. If you had to guess, it had to be an Avenger. A simple agent wouldn’t warrant this level of privacy.
Then again, none of the other Avengers who’ve quickly become loyal clients of your salon never really bothered with having the place vacated for them, either. Sure, they picked the slowest times to schedule their appointments to keep their celebrity down, but that was about the extent of it.
You had to smile at the thought of a new Avenger joining the growing list you already had as clients. If they weren’t yours directly, they came in and worked with one of your fabulously talented employees. The fact that your talented staff came in such high demand had you ready to do a little victory dance where you stood.
It was really a dream come true how far your barber shop and salon had come in the years since you first took over.
All that was missing was someone to share your success with. Someone to call yours and you theirs.
Before you could get too far down that thought trail, a knock came at the front door.
You locked it earlier to keep any would-be walk-ins from trying their luck. Not that your place allowed walk-ins with the clientele you’ve built the last few years.
Going to the door, you smiled upon seeing the golden god of a man known as Steve Rogers.
With a twist of your wrist, the lock released. You pushed the door open and said, “Well, long time, no see, Goldie.”
“Goldie? That’s a new one, Steffy.” Steve chuckled. His eyes always sparkled with a bit of mischief every time he came around. This time was no exception.
Your smile widened. “Well, your hair’s gotten too dark for me to call you Blondie or Honey. So, it’s Goldie now. You my special client? Surprised you want the whole place to yourself. Something I should know about?”
“No, no,” Steve quickly assured before his head shifted to his right. “It’s not for me. It’s for…”
Your gaze followed the direction of Steve’s until it collided with the solidly built man leaning sullenly nearby. At least you thought he appeared sullen until you noted how his gaze never settled in one place for too long. His alertness had gone into overdrive.
A soft exhale was wrenched from you when his gaze landed on you.
Oh.
You’d recognize this man anywhere.
James “Bucky” Barnes, WWII vet and former Winter Soldier turned Avenger.
More importantly, your grandpa’s biggest hero.
Far greater than the blonde standing in front of you.
Hive receives an invitation from a past they would rather forget and Bucky finds that there may be more than self-preservation in his need to find out what his new roommate is up to.
Read this chapter on AO3 here.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 5
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nonbinary OC
Rating: T
CW: Canon-typical violence, mind control, tampering with someone’s drink, drugging, attempted abduction, collaring, violent death, blood loss, misgendering
Prompts Filled:
@fandom-free-bingo Flight Edition : Betrayal
@fandom-free-bingo Wild Edition : A crack in the mirror
@fandom-free-bingo World Book Night Edition : Drugged
@fandom-free-bingo Maritime May Edition : Mind control
@febuwhump 2024 : Day 10 – Killing in self-defence
@fluffbruary 2024 : Day 9 – Urgency
@lgbtqbingo : Bar fight
@multifandom-flash Round 2 : The men in black
@multifandom-flash Character (Bucky Barnes) : Lost companion
@whumpuary 2024 : Day 3 – Used as bait
@fandombingo Reverse 1999 : Manipulated into a trap
@fandombingo Reverse 1999 : Tracking someone down to save them
@sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort Edition : Blood loss
@badthingshappenbingo : No good deed goes unpunished
@badthingshappenbingo : Tampering with food/drink
Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends
“Each betrayal begins with trust.”
Martin Luther
Hive tidied without much direction for an hour before the stillness of the place started to worm into their brain. The walls got closer. They found themself touching their scarred surfaces as though that would stop their advance. Their nails were packed with cheesy plaster and flakes of paper; texture after texture demanded to be smoothed lest it keep grating on their soul like sandpaper. Eventually their nailbeds were smarting. Rather than pull apart the whole building scrap by scrap, they went out. Possible destinations were both far too many and hardly any at all. Anything that needed money was out. Anywhere they might be too readily noticed was a problem. They wound up in the park. There were plenty of people around and, while other people meant more witnesses, they also meant camouflage. They took a book from their small stash and passed easily enough for a student with some time to kill. From time to time, their eyes lifted from the book as if trying to tune in to distant sounds or catch some too-quiet words. No one paid them any attention.
Oh god, help… please, please help me…
Their head snapped up.
Please, I don’t want to… I can’t.
Hive’s face whipped one way then the other, their dark hair lashing their cheeks. Every face around them looked as oblivious as could be. Fuck. They knew that voice.
They dodged down crowded streets, ducking along alleys, taking the quickest route they knew in a direction they’d promised themself never to go. The voice resurged, not so faint, but irregular, as though a mind could be out of breath.
Where… am I? So hungry…
Hive winced, recalling a very similar internal monologue. Where was he? How could he possibly be in range? Even for this broken up attempt to communicate. Their mind strained. It amazed them that other people couldn’t hear it. Apparently this was a private call. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all.
They got three blocks too far north before they stopped and ducked into a doorway, breathing too hard, head spinning, arms tight across their chest. Images of the empty apartment flooded their brain, images of Bucky standing in the hall and wondering, maybe even searching. They stood shivering and hugging themself.
They wished they could ignore the voice, go back, get some sleep, rest their aching bones…
Help me… Hive, please…
They whimpered and squeezed themselves tighter, pinching their arms through their hoodie. They had to go. The whimper became an angry whine. They jabbed a foot into the wall and cried out, tears filling their eyes. Then they turned, limping, back towards the apartment.
They didn’t stay long, just long enough to pull out their notebook and scribble their apologies, and to take advantage of the quiet.
Ady?
Hive! I need help…
You’re out? How?
Complicated. Can we – I need to see someone. A – a friendly face. Meet me?
A friendly face… Hive wasn’t sure if they wanted to laugh or throw up.
Where?
They figured something out. A meeting place, crowded enough to allow them anonymity and somewhere people tended not to give a shit who was around anyway. Hive only knew it because it was about the only place they’d observed Bucky attending other than work and the grocery store. If there was anywhere a metal hand around a tumbler could go unnoticed through sheer lack of interest, it was that shithole. And if there was anywhere no one would have a hope of recalling the faces of two fugitives tomorrow morning…
It took them a while to get together some supplies, not having much stashed and lacking the cash to do things the easy, legal way. The limp added an unnecessary challenge to the game of going unnoticed. A couple of security guards had to develop sudden nosebleeds but eventually they were standing on the street above the basement bar, chewing their lip as they stared down the iron stairs. Ady… Their skin crawled. They could feel their control, their entire presence, slipping. Just like it had before. When the only way to resist was to play a sick game of musical chairs in their own body, everyone trying not to be the one in control when the music stopped...
Steady… Invisible hands held them and pushed them gently but firmly back into themself. We don’t have to do this, but if we’re going to then we should get it over with. Standing out here isn’t safe.
He needs our help. He isn’t going to hurt us.
And if he only just got out, he may have information we can use.
A deep breath of the foetid gutter-tinged air did more to upset their stomach than soothe their nerves but it did help to drive them off the street. He was sitting at a table in the corner. His cheeks were more hollow than ever. He was staring at a drink in front of him as though he’d forgotten how to transfer the liquid to his mouth. Thinking about it, it might have been years since the poor bastard was last allowed to pick up his own glass, or have a glass at all. A mutant who could do what he could certainly couldn’t be allowed any more freedom than absolutely necessary. That leash was kept tight. How he had ever slipped it was a mystery. They slid into the opposite chair.
“You came.” The fact sounded like it caused him pain.
“I, yeah, ‘course I did. You needed help.” They toed the duffel bag towards him under the table, regretting it when their toes ached dark and hot, nausea surging in their gut. They were pretty sure their foot would be vivid purple when they got home and took that sock off. “This is for you. I can find you somewhere to stay. You'll need to, you know, keep your head down for a little while…” For a moment they pictured Bucky’s expression should they show up on the doorstep with another stray in tow. No, wouldn’t work. But their old hideout was probably secure enough for a day or two while they figured out how to get him a long, long way away. They weren’t sure exactly how far the enemy’s reach extended but it was a fair bet that nowhere inside the US would be safe enough. Maybe Bucky knew more about where someone like Ady could go unnoticed with some basic precautions. Somewhere remote enough that his nightmares would trouble no one but the wildlife. “Does it work on animals?” Hive winced even as the words left their mouth. They hadn’t intended to ask. It could at the very least have waited. What a time for their vocal chords to detach from their brain.
Ady’s head dipped, hiding his face deeper in the shadows of his hood. He’d never really made his peace with the shaved head, they knew. Endless exploratory surgeries were the lot of captive mutants but when your abilities were so very brain-centred… well, his skull had been drilled into so many times, it was amazing there was enough left to hold his brain in.
“No, ‘it’ doesn’t. They can’t hear me, or if they can then they don’t understand. And I can’t make – it doesn’t affect them.” They saw him shiver inside his heavy coat.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have – you know what I’m like.”
“What you’re all like…” he curled a little tighter, peeking up at them out of the dark, more fearful than angry. “You seem like just… you. How are the rest of them do-”
“Don’t. Don’t talk about them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I never wanted to hurt any of you.”
“Don’t, Ady.”
“Lex – have you – has he -”
“Fucking stop. Christ, learn when to fucking stop.”
He flinched as though they’d struck him, and their stomach clenched as though the blow had rebounded. Their skin felt icy cold but the cold was radiating from somewhere much deeper. They needed to get out from under Ady’s pale, watery gaze. It was deceptive, that look, and they knew it as well as anyone. It was so lost, so full of need for care, connection, and it crept in, touching what you wanted no one to know was there. They shoved away from the table so hard their chair rocked. Ady looked up in panic and Hive allowed him a muttered “bathroom” to quiet his alarm. But all they got to soothe their own distress was dingy tile and a cracked mirror under a flickering, stained light bulb. They needed a deep breath but that was a bad idea in here. They tried taking in a series of tiny gasps until they had a lungful to exhale slowly.
Lex… What fucking right did he have? How dare he? They leant over the chipped sink, close to retching, gripping the edge until they recognised the blood running from under their fingernails. Fuck. When had they last lost control like that? Oh, of fucking course. Ady. Poor Lex had always turned the lash inwards when he couldn’t hold out any longer. They stared at the blood – the only wholesome colour in the hopeless little room. It was lucky that, however their power worked, it left no open wounds; this place was a paradise for every kind of crap you didn’t want in your bloodstream. They stopped the bleeding and – wound or no wound – scrubbed their hands under the hottest water they could coax from the rusty tap. Then they stared at their reflection a little longer, willing the hectic blotches out of their cheeks, face divided into misaligned halves by the long scar in the glass.
Ady… Not what their custodians had called him, of course. He’d long acquired the nickname "Leash” when Hive was brought in.
I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I only wanted – I wanted you to say he’d come back. That he wasn’t… and I hadn’t… I never wanted to kill anyone. I promise. Hive? Are… are you coming back?
Now wasn’t that the question. The supplies they’d collected for him were still under the table. If they walked right out, he could take them and go and they didn’t know where he’d end up or how long he’d last but they would have done something for him, more than anyone had done for them when they first got out. They could walk out guilt-free. And who would have little enough heart to blame them for steering clear of someone who’d done the things Ady had?
We would.
Things he was forced to do…
The voices didn’t come from Ady, or anywhere else outside their own head. It made them that much harder to shut out and their owners knew it.
It isn’t truer for Bucky than it is for Ady just because Ady hurt us.
They never took that fucking collar off him. What could he have done that he didn’t try?
“That he said he tried…” Hive muttered, unable to meet their own eyes in the mirror. They needn’t speak aloud to be heard but it felt better to hear their own words on the outside.
Like we did?
“We’re different.”
How do you figure that out?
“We are killers.”
You are, you mean.
“Fine, I am.”
And if you don’t take us back out there, I will. He’s no guiltier than we are. He needs help.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Hive glowered down at their shoes then rammed the bolt back. The glare melted away as soon as they saw the helpless fear on Ady’s face, even shrouded deep in that coat. Just looking at it made the sweat run faster inside Hive’s hoodie, already too many layers for comfort in the bar’s close atmosphere.
They slid back into their seat. A drink had appeared in front of them.
“Got you a drink. To say sorry. And thank you, for coming when I called. I’d have understood if you’d ignored me.”
They eyed the glass. “You have money?”
“A little.” His eyes shifted away, gluing his gaze to the corner of the table. Hive heard what he didn’t say.
They lowered their voice. “Didn’t pay for it, huh?”
He gave his head a tiny shake. They could see his hands were twisting in his lap. Part of them was glad he felt guilt or anxiety or both. An uncharitable part they tried to silence, but not one they could blame on anyone else.
“You need to be careful. You know it leaves traces sometimes, and this place has a lot of potential witnesses. It’d be really easy to wind up back home if the wrong person sees.”
His hands tugged at his sleeves. He thought they were telling him off. And in their world that meant pain was sure to follow. They swallowed a mouthful of sharp memories and lifted their glass.
“It’s okay. You aren’t in trouble. I just need you to be careful, okay? I don’t want either of us going back there.”
He made a strange jerky movement towards them as they sipped; they guessed he’d wanted to reach for their hand. Seemed like he’d decided against it as he flinched back again, though Hive hadn’t even reacted. Did he – they thought they might have heard him whimper. God, he was going to be hard work. They took a breath, and a longer drink. The faint burn in their throat wasn’t especially pleasant but the room was so hot. It was starting to spin. Too many voices. Too many sounds and textures and moving bodies. When had the lights become so bright? Their stomach churned. They tried to grip the glass again only to find their fingers numb and clumsy. Ady was rocking, the movement nauseating to focus on.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m
“Ady…” Their mouth felt like it was full of cloth. “What did you do?”
It wasn’t Bucky who left the building and began to scour the streets for a trace of Hive's direction. The agency steering his body might have owed him a great deal but they were not the same. This individual stalked his target from block to block with predatory focus as much as he covered the ground with a soldier’s discipline, quartering his territory systematically. As his hunt drew out longer and longer frustration began to infect him. Sickening him. Turning his determination into anger. His pace quickened into a wolfish lope, but he was becoming inescapably aware that his search was directionless. Hive could be anywhere. Any building. Any subway. They could be on a Greyhound headed right across the country. What possible hope did he have of finding them? His pace ground to a halt. Strength flooded out of him. The impulse to find them kept up its powerful beat in his chest but it was futile. He breathed hard. Air felt thick. Heavy and poisonous. Foul in his mouth. Nowhere to go. No forward path. Where were they?
When the hand fell on their shoulder, it felt like a hundred kilo weight. They slumped underneath it. A whisper of protest was the most they could utter as their hood was dragged down and light flooded their face. Someone was speaking, low and even, over their head. Their ears were ringing. They were pulled from their seat and steered by their elbows back towards the toilet, past the rotting bathroom door and down a gloomy passageway. Whatever Ady had given them turned every sense up to one hundred. No useful input, nothing they could trust to get their bearings, only an assault of sound and light and smell.
Uneven, mouldering carpet caught their toes and they went sprawling, the pain in their foot amplified unbearably. More pain exploded from their knees. The impact travelled the length of their spine in an instant. The strong, single sensation broke part way through the lethal fog in their brain, and at last they could fight. They launched themself up from the floor and fresh agony burst in their skull when it collided with a chin. Both Hive and their escort toppled, crying out and clutching their heads. Commands were yelled. Ady whimpered. Movement. Behind them. Chairs scraping.
There was a moment, just one, in which the swimming weight resettling on their brain lightened a little, and Hive lashed out with all their strength. Blood poured down their face and chest from their suddenly gushing nose. Someone else was yelling in horror and a heavy body crashed into them, slamming them into the wall. Something wrenched in their shoulder and they fell sobbing back to the floor, the falling weight still on top of them. They lay with their streaming nose in the disgusting carpet and an immovable weight crushing their lungs. At first the weight thrashed wildly, grinding Hive’s torso into the floor. Their lungs caught fire. Their chest was burned. The struggles became weaker, and finally there was only the suffocating mass on top of them. Someone dragged it off and hauled Hive to their knees. How many were there? Bloody hands held them in place. There was a commotion, a yell, behind them.
“Hold her. I’ve had about enough of this shit. Just get the fucking collar on her, will you? Or do you want to die too? And you, get him out of here.”
Ady whimpered again and Hive felt a new familiar pressure on their mind. They mentally squirmed to escape the snare but they were out of practice. They couldn’t break free.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry…
They stilled, waiting motionless while a heavy ring of metal was fastened shut round their throat. They couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move. It was too sudden. Their mind moved like it was setting in cement. The metal contacts were as ice cold as they remembered against the sides of their neck.
Can… anyone…? We need to…
No reply. They ran out of strength to plead. Air felt like acid as it half-filled their aching lungs.
Someone help me… please…
“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” - Nelson Mandela
Thank you, everyone who has stuck with Hive and Bucky this far. Sorry the updates are painfully slow. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure that it hurts me more than it hurts most of you. @voiceoffenrisulfr might be the exception to that. There are another 2 chapters ready to post. One of them is already up on AO3, if you're impatient.
When Eddie Brock was in college, he used to date a fellow student, a woman named Danielle. Close to graduation Danielle and Eddie broke their relationship off and went their separate ways. What Eddie didn't know when they separated, that Danielle was pregnant with his child. Danielle decided not to tell him because she was scared and didn't want to ruin the one good thing Eddie had left, his journalism.She remembered Eddie telling her about his issues growing up with his own father and that discovering his passion for journalism helped him. Nine months later Danielle ended up giving birth to a healthy baby boy that she named Bentley Brock. She gave him Eddie's last name after feeling guilty for never telling Eddie about the pregnancy and if something happened to her he would be taken care of or Bentley wanted to find him in the future. Danielle was diagnosed with heart issues not long after Bentley was born, and it only got worse as the years went on.
When Bentley was five years old, he woke up and found his mom, Danielle, dead. She had passed away in her sleep, her heart had stopped. Bentley was stuck there until a neighbor checked in on them a few days later and he was taken in by social services who later brought him to his dad, Eddie Brock. Who rightfully so, was in shock from Danielle's death and finding out that he was a father. Bentley didn't really know what to do, all he really knew was his mother and he wanted her back but it was obvious that she wouldn't be coming back…now here he was finally meeting his dad and his girlfriend, Anne Weying. But Eddie and Anne were patient with him and helped him through everything.
Years later, Bentley was happy with his dad and Anne, even though they had to suddenly move to San Francisco after his dad got fired from the Daily Globe. His dad proposed to Anne and now it was almost a step closer to her being his official stepmom. His dad then got to establish his own journalism career again by getting his own show " The Eddie Brock Report." Days after his 15th birthday his dad was assigned to interview the CEO of the Life Foundation, Carlton Drake. Which ended up turning Bentley's life upside down since his dad did the complete opposite of what he was supposed to do, doing a hit piece, and ended up getting himself and Anne fired in the process. Anne broke off the engagement with his dad, she told Bentley he would always be welcome in her home but she couldn't be with his dad anymore. Bentley was upset at his dad but couldn't find it in himself to leave him…so he declined and stayed with his dad.
Six months later, his dad was completely broke, and struggling to work. Bentley decided to help out and get a job at a convenient store owned by Mrs. Chen. It wasn't much, but Bentley wanted to do everything to help his dad. One night Bentley woke up from a bunch of noises coming from the living room and found his dad eating frozen tater tots and even an old rotisserie chicken that had been in the trash. When his dad went to the bathroom, Bentley tried getting a hold of Anne, telling her that his dad was acting weird. Which Anne didn't believe until the next day his dad ate a live lobster, in the tank.
Turns out his dad had an alien symbiote inside him now and its name was Venom…this new "friend" would change both father and son's life forever.
