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Ghosts can’t sleep, but Lewis can do something like it, if he wants to. A meditative state that doesn’t allow for dreams or conscious thought. And most nights, it’s a blessing, and he’s content to lay down in their shared bed and enjoy the feeling of a warm body next to his.
But some nights, the better blessing is the ability to stay up. Tonight is one of them. They’d just gotten back from a hunt, and he’d talked the living members of the crew into going to sleep, and now - as quietly as possible, so as not to wake anyone - he was in the process of putting away all the gear and supplies away so the house was nice and neat in the morning.
His hand is hovering over a blanket when a discordant note strikes his soul. He pauses, hair and anchor flickering in unison. Something’s... wrong. One of the ties that binds him to this world is... aching, struggling.
It isn’t much longer before a deadbeat finds him, nudging him towards Arthur’s room, the same place that he can feel a light tugging from.
He drifts towards it and then through the door, not wanting to risk startling him with a sudden loud noise. Arthur’s in bed, sitting against the headboard, and curled up into a tight ball with his head in his knees. He can see him shaking from here, and can hear unsteady breathing that means half-suppressed tears.
He places a hand on his back, at the same time saying softly, “what’s wrong, love?”
At least Arthur doesn’t jump when he realizes he’s there. He lifts his head slightly, and then leans into Lewis, pulling him into a haphazard but desperate hug. “S-sorry- I- n- had a nightmare. You were- gone...”
Lewis floats closer and sits down next to him on the bed, so he isn’t hanging off it and in risk of falling, and returns the hug, holding him securely. He doesn’t say anything, just combs one hand through his hair.
“You j-just-” his breath hitches, and he starts to cry in earnest. “You did- didn’t come back, and you were gone, and I... an- and we all had to...”
“Shh,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”
He shudders, making a quiet, keening whine. “Please- p- please, don’t go any- anywhere...”
“I won’t. I’m staying with you, Arthur. I promise.”
The reassurance seems to do something. Though he’s still crying, Lewis can feel the panic unwinding in Arthur’s chest, settling back down to something more manageable.
Once he doesn’t seem quite so desperate to be held, Lewis releases Arthur for a moment. He picks up the blanket that had been kicked off and abandoned, and drapes it around his shivering shoulders, tucking him in as best he can. Gently, he shifts him into a more comfortable position, and then focuses on rubbing his shoulder as his breathing slowly steadies and he drifts back off to sleep.
If they wake up to a messy, disorganized living room, well, that’s something they can deal with in the morning, together. Right now, he isn’t going anywhere.