#toxin is a childish asshole and plays into it but also is a sweetheart

[bakageta]

For @astriiformes's AU Roulette! The prompt was Fairytale and the fic ended up being not so much a literal fairytale AU as a metaphorical one where everyone is happy and gets along and Sleeper and Toxin get in petty discussions in the middle of the night like the shithead siblings they are. Also they talk about fairytales.

"Why do you look like that?" Sleeper asked from their perch on the back of their father's couch, imperious and cat shaped.

Like what? Toxin responded in the chemo-signal language of symbiotes.

"Like a pile of spaghetti."

Toxin was spread over Eddie’s coffee table, a mass of burgundy tendrils squirming and tapping against anything he could reach without having to touch the carpet. He wasn’t bothering with anything so complex as a mouth or eyespots. Sleeper wondered if it was because he couldn’t or because he didn’t want to before deciding that they didn’t really care about the answer.

What’s that?

“Pasta? Long, thin pasta in a tomato sauce? Surely you've at least seen it?"

A sense of amusement exuded from Toxin and a green-tongued grin split his mass. "Of course I've heard of spaghetti, and don't call me Shirley."

Sleeper winced at the subpar wordplay. Their tail tip twitched irritably. "I cannot wait until your host takes you back to South Africa."

Toxin only laughed obnoxiously. "Did gramps ever tell you any stories, Uncle Sleeps?"

"Never call me that."

"Sure," Toxin lied. He also made eyespots, specifically so he could stare expectantly at Sleeper. They could feel the weight on their plasma. “Jubulile’s parents told her folktales and fairytales and stories. Pops never did anything but try to kill me.”

“My other parent shared sense memories with me while I was at Alchemax,” Sleeper said when it became apparent that Toxin wasn’t going to leave them alone. “Father shared music and made sure Dr Steven knew which songs I liked best for when he wasn’t in the lab.”

“But no stories?” Toxin appeared to be trying to make legs, four of them connected to a shape much larger than Sleeper’s own but still covered in tendrils.

“No.” If Sleeper was curt, maybe Toxin would stop pestering them.

"That's kinda sad." Toxin was wriggling around on the table now like he was figuring out how to make a spine. "I mean not as sad as my dad trying to kill and eat me, but still."

“It isn’t sad at all.”

“Nah, it’s sad.” Toxin rolled onto his feet and shook like a dog until he had a be-snouted head and tendrilled tail. He looked like a four-legged muppet or a mop turned into an animal.

"It isn't."

"Yeeeah," Toxin's grin was wide. "Except it is."

"Fine." Sleeper jumped to the floor. Father's bedroom, the one he shared with their other parent and Flash Thompson, was just down the hallway. The lack of fairytale story could easily be rectified and then Toxin wouldn't be able to make any more comments.

Toxin followed clumsily, amusement radiating outwards from him.

The door was closed but not locked and there weren't any noises except for habitual breathing. Sleeper opened the door just enough to slip in, ignoring Toxin barreling in behind them, darted across the room, and leapt silently onto their father's bed, landing directly on his chest and knocking the breath from his lungs. 

Their father woke with a gasp. He sprang into a seated position, clutching Sleeper to his chest. "What’s wr–" Toxin bowled father over in his uncoordinated scramble onto the bed as he followed Sleeper. 

"Wha's happening?" Flash yawned, woken up by Toxin's jostling. 

"Father never told me any fairytales when I was just-spawned and Toxin says that's sad. I need to hear a story so he'll stop," Sleeper explained, reasonably. 

"I didn't–"

"That is kinda sad," Flash agreed. 

"Told you so!" Toxin yelled from the foot of the bed. 

"We listened to music together!" Their father protested. He settled Sleeper in his lap as he sat up again and their other parent cradled them in its tired mass.

"Still kinda sad."

"What am I supposed to do about that, Flash? I can't just go back in time and tell them a fairytale!"

Flash raised a challenging eyebrow. Toxin crept closer.

“I don’t really know any fairy tales,” their father said. “I always considered them too juvenile.”

“You expect me to believe you don’t know any stories?” Flash challenged. “You’re a damn reporter!”

“Exactly! I’m an investigative journalist, not a- a literature teacher! I–” father cut himself off. The frustration Sleeper had been sensing from their father cleared. He must have remembered something. “How about a tale of kingship, murder, and revenge?”

Sleeper knew enough about human children to realize that the story their father was offering them probably wasn’t meant for children. They also knew enough to realize that they’d probably prefer the story their father was offering over any true fairy tale. 

“That sounds ideal.” They purred, their other parent clinging and sharing feelings of interest and warmth. Their father’s hand settled on top of them.

Toxin edged close enough to rest his chin on their father’s leg, slow and cautious. Father ruffled Toxin’s tendrils with his free hand and their other parent extended tendrils to him. There was no hesitation in either of them. Sleeper decided that even if Toxin was insufferable, he could stay.

“Hundreds of years ago, in Scotland, when kings were common and wars were fought with blades, two generals sought shelter from a storm within an isolated shelter,” Father began. "Three weird sisters– witches most likely –welcomed them with prophecy. ‘All hail, Macbeth!’ shouted the first sister–”

“You’re telling them Macbeth?” Flash asked, bemused.

“Shut up, Thompson.” Toxin craned his head unnaturally to shoot a Look at father’s human partner. “Nobody asked you.”

Their father chuckled softly at Flash’s flummoxed expression and continued the story.