French Girls Counseling

Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls

Sock floated in the air frozen for the last few minutes as Jonathan kept glancing up at him from his sketchbook, his right hand moving to capture some small detail. Jonathan used the excused of drawing Sock—saying he needed to practice—to get him to shut up for five minutes. It had been going on for a few weeks now. Drawing Sock.

When Sock started hinting that Jonathan just wanted to use it as an excuse to check him out, Jonathan shot that idea down with his deadpanned expression. Instead of backing off, Jonathan changed tactics saying he needed to work with different mediums. This week was charcoal, last week was pastels, and next week would be watercolor pencils.

Now, his sketchbook was filled with different expressions, positions, and angles of Sock. His little annoyingly friendly demon. Jonathan added a little more details, anything to keep Sock still just a bit longer.

Finally having had enough Sock unfroze from his mid-air pose and floated behind Jonathan to see what his charge had drawn. Getting into Jonathan's personal space Sock grinned. "That looks really like me."

"All the practicing seems to help," Jonathan replied without much infliction in his tone. "Do you think you can stay still for another one?"

Jonathan knew he was egging Sock on. He had to pretend to be disinterested in drawing to get Sock to comply. Flipping another page Jonathan's right hand hovered over the paper waiting for Sock to decide. Sending another mischievous grin at the blond, Sock floated towards the bed and made the famous Titanic pose.

"Draw me like one of your French girls, hot stuff."

Jonathan exhaled from his nose trying not to react to Sock's puns. He's been saying that line for the pass few weeks too. Turning his sketchbook to the side he began drawing Sock, in full clothing, as Rose from Titanic. Too bad that expression on Sock's face ruined the whole effect, Jonathan mused as he kept the quirk of his upward lips from his demon's notice.

=*=

Who is that?

The question on everyone's mind when Jonathan accidently left his sketchbook lying around. To his defense, he didn't think leaving it alone for five minutes would cause someone to snatch it up and pass it around class.

This was the second week his peers were asking him who he was drawing. With almost his entire book filled with drawing of Sock he really shouldn't be surprised that they'll ask. But it wasn't like he planned to tell them the truth. That it was a demon that was haunting him, or at least trying to haunt him since Sock did a lousy job at that.

No, so he just shrugged never saying much. It's not like he owed them an explanation. Sock crackled with laughter at his side, completely amused by it all, the bastard. Shuffling to his next class Jonathan ignored Sock's jokes on the subject. He definitely ignored the little demon when he told him what his classmates were saying behind his back.

"They think I'm your boyfriend!" Sock exclaimed laughing with glee. "If you told them the truth..."

"No," Jonathan replied over his shoulder narrowing his eyes at him. "I don't plan to tell them anything."

"Aww, come on." Sock pouted.

"I said no." Jonathan grounded out and turned around coming face-to-face with one of his classmate staring weirdly at him. Sighing loudly, the blond teen walked to his seat ignoring that strange look.

=*=

There were a few more run-ins with him talking to "himself" in the week to come. Jonathan tried to take them in stride—it was all he could do—and ignored more weird-out looks he was getting.

In one of his moods, Jonathan accidently revealed that the person he was sketching was named Sock. A demon, he had said before backpedalling saying that "Sock" had a habit of annoying you, like a pesky demon.

Jonathan had to reduced Sock to his OC, much to the real Sock's humor.

After school Sock draped himself over Jonathan who batted him out of the way. "Get off. Damnit Sock, knock it off." Swatting him off, the blond rounded the corner to see another student looking at him very, very strangely before running off.

Oh, this could not end well.