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He doesn’t sleep anymore. He can rest, but it’s not like real sleep, that dark and dreaming place between life and death. In a way Sock was glad of that, because the last time he slept...
Briefly, he remembered the feel of blood, sticky and clammy, on his hands and awakening— staring into two beloved and very dead faces. Whatever pleasure he might have found in the murders he didn’t remember was offset by the horror and panic that set in upon waking. He remembered the cold and numb weariness that slowly closed in while he was burying them, the cold touch of once-warm and living flesh and the moment he’d decided that there should be three graves on the hillside under the spreading oak.
“Get off my bed.” The sleepy growl shook Sock from memories he didn’t care to revisit and he looked up into the face of his human counterpart, one Jonathan Combs, disillusioned teenager. Wet hair tumbled around a tired face, and fell into blue eyes; storm-cloud eyes that were glaring down at Sock like he was a particularly revolting bug that had crawled onto him.
Seeing the opportunity to torment Jonathan a little more, Sock pouted up at him and sprawled on the bedcovers in his best imitation of a come-hither pose. “Aw, c’mon, hot stuff, dontcha wanna—?”
Jonathan grabbed the sheets, yanked, and dumped him off the bed all in one swift motion.
It didn’t hurt, but Sock whined and rubbed his rear for effect. “Owww, Jonathan...!”
Ignoring him, Jonathan flopped down on the bed and wrapped himself up in the sheets, back resolutely to Sock.
Sock puffed his cheeks out with an annoyed sigh. Frowning, he drifted toward the outside wall of the house. “Goodnight, Jonathan.”
He was nearly through the wall when the mumbled, “Night,” answered him.
One of the perks of being a demonic entity was the ability to be anywhere if you concentrated on it. Sock didn’t always see it as a benefit, though. Whenever he let himself get too caught up in memories of the life-that-was, he found himself here, hovering in a dark graveyard by three graves. Someone had filled in his, at least, but Sock had no interest in where his own body lay mouldering. He dropped out of the air, landing on his knees between the other two graves, brushing a gentle hand over the grass that had grown over the earth. His intangible fingers barely ruffled the blades, but that didn’t really matter. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Are you still mad at me?”
The wind was his only answer, and Sock sighed, feeling the aching emptiness hollowing him out. There was a grave just down the hillside with fresh purple flowers on it and Sock found that with enough concentration, he could steal a few of them. Four trips and he had two sad little bouquets to lay on the graves.
Stretching out on the grass, Sock began talking to the silent night air. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine them around the dinner table, listening to him tell them about his day. He spoke quietly of Jonathan and his job, and could even imagine his mother’s pleasure in him finding a friend and his father’s quiet disapproval of his line of work.
He spoke until the loneliness became overwhelming; a crushing, disabling weight.
He wanted... something. Someone real, not two graves and parents who would never speak to him again. Blinking, he found himself in a familiar bedroom, where a living body slumbered, tangled up in a sheet. Just hearing Jonathan’s soft breathing eased the overwhelming feeling of being alone in the world.
Silently, Sock drifted closer to the bed, breathing in Jonathan’s living presence. He smelled of soap and life and human warmth, something Sock couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt. He settled gingerly on the bed, the mattress not even dipping under his ephemeral weight, and stretched out on the edge of the bed, leaving space between himself and Jonathan, but close enough to feel his warmth tickling over his skin.
It helped. Just being this close to Jonathan’s living heat melted the icy loneliness deep inside Sock’s unbeating heart. He let himself relax, closing his eyes and thinking of nothing at all but the fact that he was not alone; that there was a living, breathing person sharing the bed with him.
Jonathan’s breath had deepened even further, resolving into faint snores, and he shifted a little in his sleep, banishing the sense of loneliness even further. Sock allowed himself a smile, resting there beside Jonathan.
He wasn’t prepared for Jonathan to turn over and suddenly there was an actual living, breathing weight pressing on Sock’s shoulder. Nervously, not daring to move otherwise, Sock cracked his eyes open.
In his shifting, Jonathan’s head had missed the pillow and now rested on Sock. He was still dead asleep and somehow the lines of when Jonathan could touch him had gotten a little blurred.
Sock could feel Jonathan’s warmth on his skin, Jonathan’s deep breaths curling over his neck and cheek. Sock dragged in a shuddering breath, forgetting that he didn’t need air. He wasn’t alone, he repeated to himself. Jonathan was here with him. Greatly daring, he reached out with unsteady fingers to brush a damp lock of hair away from Jonathan’s face.
Jonathan made a sleepy snuffling sound that Sock privately thought was adorable, and leaned into his touch, his head following the path of Sock’s fingers over his brow and cheek.
Smiling, Sock continued brushing his fingers over Jonathan’s face, enjoying the fact that not only was Jonathan touching him, but that he could also touch Jonathan with impunity.
Sock watched the digital numbers on Jonathan’s clock flicker through an hour, with Jonathan still resting heavily against his shoulder and his fingers twined in blond hair.
But like a typical restless sleeper, Jonathan didn’t still for very long, rolling over so his back was to Sock again. Unwilling to lose the warmth and comfort of Jonathan’s presence, Sock carefully rolled over, pressing himself against the strong curve of Jonathan’s spine.
Jonathan muttered something softly, stirring.
Sock froze, only to relax again when Jonathan settled comfortably against him. Ever so carefully, he draped an arm over Jonathan’s t-shirt clad abdomen.
Jonathan didn’t move again, sinking deeper into slumber, seemingly content to have Sock spooned around him.
Sighing, Sock rested his cheek against the back of Jonathan’s shoulder, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Smiling faintly, he closed his eyes and just drifted, content to rest against Jonathan.
Surprisingly, when dawn had started to paint rosy hues across the ceiling of Jonathan’s room, Jonathan still had not stirred, sleeping heavily in the curve of Sock’s body. Smiling, Sock brushed tangled bangs off Jonathan’s forehead. Much as he’d like to stay here, Jonathan’s alarm would be going off soon and Sock didn’t want to be found here. He’d enjoyed resting against Jonathan, and if the teen found out about it, he’d surely forbid Sock from ever doing it again.
Carefully disentangling himself from Jonathan, Sock drifted up towards the ceiling. While it hadn’t been like real sleep, just lying there with Jonathan’s heartbeat thrumming in his ear and thinking of absolutely nothing had been wonderfully restful.
Beneath him, Jonathan moved restlessly, turning first toward where Sock had recently been lying and then back the way he’d been facing. He flopped over on his back and grumbled softly in his sleep, fingers idly scrabbling across the sheets.
The alarm shrilled and Jonathan sat bolt upright, blue eyes wide and startled. It took him a long moment to orient himself enough to shut the alarm off. When he had he rose blearily and scratched his chest, stumbling toward the bathroom.
“Good Morning!” Sock chirped down at him, grinning widely. He adored seeing Jonathan in this state, rumpled and sleepy.
Jonathan just grunted a reply and shut the bathroom door firmly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night Sock wished Jonathan a goodnight and waited outside until he was sure he was asleep. All day, even while following Jonathan through his normal daily routine, Sock had found himself craving the peace he’d found lying next to Jonathan. He was determined to have it again.
He peered back into the house, finding Jonathan lying on his right side and curled in a loose circle, his arm draped over a pillow. Dropping down, he brushed his fingers along Jonathan’s bare arm, pleased when he could feel the warm skin. Carefully lifting Jonathan’s limp arm, Sock removed the pillow and curled himself into the space left in the circle of Jonathan’s body.
Being the big spoon last night had been wonderful, but he wanted to be on the other end of the equation this time. Fitting himself back against Jonathan's chest, Sock sighed and carefully draped Jonathan’s lax arm over himself.
It felt even better this way, like he was wrapped in the warmth of Jonathan’s humanity.
Jonathan grumbled softly and his hold tightened, tucking Sock more firmly into the curve of his body.
It felt amazing and Sock smiled, relaxing into the hold. The next day he followed and bothered Jonathan as usual, but waited eagerly for nightfall. Night when all barriers were down and he could drown himself in Jonathan’s warmth; banish the emptiness that threatened to overwhelm him when he remembered just how alone he was.
It went on this way for a week. He noticed that Jonathan tossed and turned less, settling once Sock was tucked against him. He looked more rested too, the dark bags under his eyes fading.
Maybe it wasn’t the way things were supposed to go, but...
Sock wished Jonathan a good night again and drifted toward the outer wall, to go outside and begin his vigil until Jonathan fell asleep.
“Isn’t this getting a little old by now?” Jonathan grumbled tiredly, sitting up in bed and knuckling an eye.
Sock froze in mid-air. “I-is what getting old?”
Jonathan snorted. “You going off and hiding until I’m asleep before you come back and turn into the first demon teddy bear.”
Sock could only hang there, unmoving. “You knew?”
Jonathan sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, Sock. I figured it out the first time you crawled into bed with me. Subtle, you are not.”
Sock knew he was turning red. He pulled his hat down to hide his face. “U-uhm...”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Fuck it.” He flopped back down on the bed, arms sprawled. “Just get over here, dummy. I’m tired and I wanna sleep.”
Sock blinked and pulled his hat up to stare at Jonathan, mouth agape. “You-you don’t mind?”
Jonathan snorted again, though there was the faintest hint of pink across his nose and cheeks. “It’s a lot better than you being a creeper and staring at me all night.”
“O-oh. I only did that once.”
Jonathan flung his arm over his eyes. “Don’t make me call you a liar. Now get over here so I can get some sleep tonight... and you can do that creepy whatever it is you do instead of sleep.” He lifted his outflung hand and crooked a finger in Sock’s direction.
Unable to resist the pull of that summoning, Sock drifted over to the bed. “I just rest,” He said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I can’t sleep anymore.”
Jonathan lifted his arm enough to peer at Sock with one blue eye. “So rest.”
Gingerly, Sock lay down on the edge of the bed, keeping as much space between them as was possible.
Jonathan groaned, an exasperated sound. He caught Sock's wrist and yanked him across the bed until he was flush up against Jonathan’s side.
Sock made an embarrassing squeaking sound, especially when Jonathan rolled over and spooned him, draping a lax arm over Sock’s waist.
“Now, shut up and rest.” Jonathan grumbled, but quietly.
Sighing, Sock gave himself up to the living warmth that was Jonathan.
It was just before dawn when he pulled himself free of Jonathan’s embrace and closed his eyes, letting his painful memories pull him back to a lonely graveyard, washed in the pale hues of pre-dawn. He stretched out on the grass between two graves and closed his eyes. “Hi, mom and dad. You probably haven’t forgiven me yet, but I just wanted to talk to you some more. See, I told you about my job last time... his name’s Jonathan and sometimes— when you least expect it— he’s nice. It’s, um... kinda scary...”