Work Text:
When Father Basil woke up, he found himself bleary eyed in his bed in the pitch of night. He could hear the whistling of wind outside, the crashing of the waves below, and, most importantly, the soft sound of breathing beside him. Father Basil turned his head and strained his eyes to see through the blackness. It was dark in that small humble parish, the only light coming from the peek of the full moon from behind the curtains. Barely, just barely, Father Basil could see the inky mass of the sleeping Dandelion beside. With the demon’s eyes closed and body still, the demon’s form blended into the darkness. Father Basil could only see where he was in relation to the white sheets, like how the profile of his face layed on the pillow and how his arm stretched out on the bed between them.
For a moment, the priest watched the demon’s chest rise and fall as he breathed. And then, gently, carefully, Father Basil reached out and placed his own hand in Dandelion’s outstretched palm. Sliding fingers between claws until Father Basil could feel the warmth of the demon’s skin. He wasn’t sure why he did it, it’s not like he needed convincing that Dandelion wasn’t a figment of a feverish imagination. But Father Basil liked how his hand fitted into his, how the heart beat in their wrists mixed into one.
Perhaps he just liked that Dandelion was there.
Embarrassed by the thought, Father Basil began to pull away when he felt Dandelion’s hand squeeze back. He looked at the demon’s face, expecting the ruby eyes to peering back, but they were closed. It must’ve been an unconscious action then. Dandelion’s hand clasped his Father Basil’s now, keeping their fingers entwined. Father Basil could’ve tugged his hand free but he found that he didn’t want to.
Father Basil smiled, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep hand in hand with his demon.