This is how it started out. Coming home from an irritating day at work and collapsing on the couch, cheek pressed into the leather and drool trickling from your mouth. But it’s never how you woke up. You always wake up to that annoying, nagging parasite forming into a solid frame of some sort. Masky or what he urged you to call him, Tim was a comfortable pillow to wake up on. However, you always seemed to wake up more tired than you were when you fell asleep and it was all because of Tim.

He fed off your energy in a way, one that wasn’t dangerous to you. But it never satisfied his hunger. It’s not particularly a feeding, more of a recharge for him. Though, it is very tiring having to deal with a symbiote that can’t decide if he’s grumpy and snappy or affectionate and kind.

—

You woke up even more drowsier than when you had laid down for the nap. The firm chest of the symbiote was what you had your cheek pressed into. A sigh left you as Tim had sensed you were awake and he placed his hand on your head and then made a strangled grunt a second later while he flapped his hand — trying to shake off your hair from his hands. A hiss left you as you ripped your head back, still feeling the ache on your scalp as you rubbed your head, pushing yourself up. You peeled yourself apart from him. As you sat up, you instantly leaned back into the couch with a tired sigh.

Tim, shrinking his body down to just a head and now sticking out of your shoulder. “Mgh.” He grunted and he instantly leaped into conversation on what he had done while you slept, and as per usual, it was nothing good. He was a chatty bastard when he wanted to be. “The TV,” he breathed out “Broke.” Upon this revelation, you sprung up on your feet and tugged at her hair in annoyance. “Tim!” You groaned, fighting off the drowsiness.

Typically, he’d be careful with the television whenever you’d nap. And he’d be careful when manifesting under you to make the couch a bit more comfortable.