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bearsbeetsbeskar · 9 months

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Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 2: Silver Haze

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 3 here || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 5.6K Rating: 18+ minors DNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, explicit discussions of drug use, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. A/N: PEEPAW IS FINALLY GETTING HIGH Y'ALL. 🍃 🔥 💨

This chapter was fun to write and I'm really pleased with how it turned out. Thank to you anyone who has expressed interest in this silly little story and wants to see more. I doubt my writing capabilities pretty much every single day on this site, and often wonder if it's worth it to keep writing, but I still wanted to indulge in this story. Mostly, cause I'm selfish and would throw myself in front of a moving vehicle if it meant getting to smoke weed with Pedro, and more specifically our grumpy texan gentleman, Mr. Joel Miller. An enormous thank you to @iamasaddie for beta'ing, and your constant words of encouragement when I start to doubt myself in the slightest, you are my heartbeat ❤️

Hope y'all enjoy, please comment, reblog and let me know what you think! 😇

It’s been less than a day. 18 hours to be exact, since he came home from the dispensary with his illicit, but also legal drugs. The bag filled with the package of joints sits in the middle of his kitchen table. He eyed it as he leaned up against the counter drinking his coffee, and while he ate his breakfast at the table in contemplative silence that morning.

This shouldn’t be such a big deal. He’s a grown man for crying out loud. He can buy drugs if he wants to. Not that he necessarily wanted to. Purchasing medicinal marijuana was the furthest thing from Joel’s mind when he ran through possible options of dealing with his pain problems. Really, he is just surprised with himself that he actually went through with the doctor’s suggestion.

He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved, or guilty, or a little curious. Maybe all of the above.

He wished he could have someone to talk to who has personally tried it before. Aside from Doctor Barclay, he didn’t really have anyone at all. His buddies would probably either: A) tell him he just needed to sleep off the pain, drink something heavy to knock himself out or work through the pain- which, if he’s being honest with himself, is precisely what he would have done if not for that sharp twinge in his back that makes him want to curl up in the fetal position. Or B) they would try to get him to take something stronger and undoubtedly more illicit. He doesn’t know how, hell he doesn’t wanna know how, but some of his buddies manage to get their hands on cocaine or acid. Sometimes they don’t even bother till they get off the jobsite after a long day, often snorting up or popping pills in their truck and then driving to a shitty dive bar they plan on occupying for the rest of the night.

Nope. He didn’t need that. He felt like enough of a delinquent already. He stops drumming his fingers on the table and sighs, tilting his head to the side contemplatively.

“Ah fuck it”

He grabs the bag and reaches into it, pulling out the carton with the pre-rolls, leaving the receipt in the bag. The label reads ‘Back Forty’s Moonberry’ in an almost psychedelic font, with deep purple letters. Turning the little box over in his hand, he squints at the description on the back.

“Back Forty’s Moonberry Rolls are powerful hybrid cross pre-rolls that offer big hits of flavour and an even burn. A nice, mellow and sweet way to start and/or finish your day, relaxation is guaranteed with these. Packed with a re-sealable film to ensure freshness after multiple sessions or on-the-go. Take a trip and relax with the Back Forty.”

“Take a trip and relax?” Joel huffed. That kind of trip sounded anything but relaxing. Anxiety starts to claw its way up his throat.

What if something happened? What if he reacted badly to the weed or ended up taking more than he should? There were no specific instructions. What if it just didn’t fucking work in general?

The doctor's words rang loudly in his head. He knew this was an option, an ‘alternate method’ as Dr. Barclay so delicately put it. But if this didn’t make the pain go away and he couldn’t take more prescription medication, what then?

He leaned back in seat and groaned, staring up at the ceiling. He could try one. Just one. But if it tasted like shit or he didn’t like it, then what? He didn’t want to be stuck with the whole pack and he doubted there was much of a return policy on opened products at the dispensary, seeing as the merchandise was already consumed.

Before his thoughts could snowball any further he snatched the carton of joints and shoved it back in the bag. “Fuck this,” he grumbled, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair as he made his way to the front door, the tiny plastic bag clutched in his other hand.

—------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Joel to reach the dispensary. When he pulled into the parking lot, he turned off the ignition and sat in his truck for a minute. One minute turned to five minutes as he bit his lip, his left hand still firmly holding onto the plastic bag. He felt like he was forgetting something. Reaching into his coat pocket absentmindedly he felt his wallet and his phone. Digging into the other pocket he paused as he felt his fingers run over a small tactile shape. He pulled it out and held it upright in his palm. The free lighter you gave him.

He rolled it over in his hand, looking at the store name printed on shiny cheap plastic, his thumb running over the rounded edges. He flicked the lighter once, and with a crisp snap, a small flame erupted, burning brightly.

His mind drifts to you. You were kind and patient with him, despite probably thinking he was a creep or some kind of fucking narc with how awkward he was. He feels heat rise to his cheeks as he recalls your soft eyes and warm, inviting demeanour. Maybe it's possible you were working again today. If that was the case he could just go in, explain to you that there was a mixup and return the pre-rolls, then buy a bottle of Tylenol on the way home, and wash it down a handful with a double whiskey, sealing his fate.

Fuck the weed. Fuck the back pain. Fuck the cholesterol. End of story.

His palm curls around the lighter as he steels himself and gets out of the car, still holding onto the plastic bag. He strides through the front door and is surprised to see the check in desk is empty, with only the '18+ ONLY PERMITTED ENTRY' sign on the desk.

At this point, he would be content to just drop the bag off at the register and head back out with his pride still in tow. Forget getting a refund.

“Hey! Back so soon?”

He looks up as he walks through the second set of doors into the shop and slows in his tracks as he sees you.

“Joel, right?”

You’re fixing a display case off to the side. He can’t help but let his gaze wander down your body. When he came in yesterday you were standing behind the register so all he could really see was the nondescript black t-shirt you wore with the dispensary logo over the chest.

Today you’re wearing the same shirt with plain black leggings that hug the curve of your hips and your ass. Nothing special, but still Joel feels his mouth go dry and the blood starts to rush south in his body.

He pauses and squints slightly. Wait, you remembered his name?

“Uh yeah. How’d you-”

“Photographic memory, thanks to being the doorman.” You reply simply.

You head back behind the register and lean your forearms on the counter, flashing him a dazzling smile. “So, what can I help you with today? Looking for more pre-rolls? Some edibles?”

At this point you could sell him anything and he would buy it, with the smile you’re giving him. Hell, you could give him 15 more of those cheap tiny lighters and he would happily take them. Maybe he doesn’t really need to return the pre-rolls, he could always just leave them.

You spot the small bag clutched in his hand before he can hide it and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Actually, I uh,” he pauses, “I wanted to return these, if that’s okay.” He places the bag on the counter and pulls his hand back quickly, as if it burned him, his eyes flitting to yours before looking away again.

“Oh sure, no problem.” You pull out the unopened pack of joints and the receipt. “Were you not a fan of these, or did you maybe want to try something else?”

“Uhm, just wasn’t a fan of them, didn’t think I’d like them..” He mumbles and shoves his hands in his coat pocket.

You’re in the middle of reversing the transaction at the register when your finger hovers over the keyboard, mid-type. “Didn’t like them? It looks like you didn’t try them though,” you quirk a brow at him and tilt your head to the side. “How do you know you don’t like them if you didn’t try them?”

“Well I, uh-” he frowns as he tries to think of a response.

Christ. He’s not getting out of this without swallowing his pride and admitting the truth. His anxiety hits him full force, and you must see him start to backpedal cause you speak up again.

“Hey it’s okay, you can always try something else. How do you feel about edibles? Or drinks?”

No. He just wants to forget that this entire situation happened.

“No, no it’s okay,” he vehemently shakes his head and starts to back away from the counter, “I’ll just look into some other options.” Even as he straightens his back and starts to retreat, he feels that nagging pinch shoot up his spine and he clenches his jaw.

“Joel, have you never smoked before? It’s okay if you haven’t” You’re looking up at him intently with those bright eyes, concern etched into your features.

Well, there’s no way out now.

He sighs in defeat and looks down at the ground. “No, I haven’t. Guess that much is obvious,” he remarks as he puts his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“That’s completely normal, trust me” you reassure him as you lean closer over the counter, planting your palms on either side of you.

He snorts. “Yeah right.”

“It’s true! Before you came in the other day I cashed out a kid who looked like he was barely legal. He came in looking like a deer in headlights. We get customers every day who have never consumed marijuana a day in their life, not just potheads.”

He eyes you warily, still biting the inside of his cheek.

“It’s not a big deal Joel really. Is… Is there anything you’re worried about happening?”

He’ll have to tell you now. Tell you that he’s really just a big middle-aged wimp who’s too afraid to get stoned and deal with his pain problems.

“I.. I’ve just never tried it before, that’s all,” he shrugs plainly, “I don’t know what to expect. I mean, I know you said it’ll help with the pain and all, help me be more relaxed but I’m just worried I’ll get addicted or overdose, or somethin’ will happen…”

“Jesus,” he runs his hand over his face, “it’s fucking stupid.”

“No, no it’s not.” You cut him off before he continues. “Those are perfectly reasonable things to think about, if you’ve never smoked before. Many people worry the same thing.”

“First of all, it is possible to get addicted,” you explain cautiously, “But you would have to be consuming it nearly every day, all day before it reaches a point where you can’t function without it. And that usually happens with strains that are high in THC, the psychoactive stuff that gets you high.”

“But,” you emphasize upon seeing him tense up, “these pre-rolls you purchased are pretty low in THC, so it’s very unlikely you would get addicted, even if you smoked 'em everyday. You don’t have to worry about that.” At that he relaxes and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Secondly, it is not possible to overdose on weed. Not even the strongest weed. I mean, I’m no fucking scientist and they haven’t conducted any studies on it or anything, but there have been no reported overdose deaths due to marijuana consumption,” You wink at him.

He huffs out an exhale, giving you a hint of a smile. “That makes it a bit better.”

“If you’re still really worried about it, I could show you if you want. To smoke that is,” you add on quickly. “I know it’s nerve wracking to try it on your own for the first time, and it can be better if you’re with someone, y’know, just in case something happens or you don’t like it.”

“Really?" He looks at you expectantly with rounded eyes. "You’d do that?”

“Yeah, I get off my shift here at 5 so I could do it after?” You bite your lip and look up at him bashfully. He tracks the movement, watching your tongue peek out to soothe your bottom lip.

“Sure, that’d be great. Where should we meet?”

“We could always go to a park or something nearby. But even though weed is legalized, I feel weird smoking it in public places around families and young kids and stuff. And you’d have to drive home afterwards, which is not a good idea.” You scrunch your brows and bite your lip again as you try to think of other spots.

Joel tries to ignore how cute you look with your brows pulled together like that. He also tries to ignore the way his pulse kicks up as he watches you bite your lip, imagining other scenarios that could cause you to bite your lips like that again.

“Uhm, you could come to my place?” Immediately he sees the hesitation wash across your face and realizes how that sounds as soon as the request leaves his mouth. You aren’t stupid. He’s a complete stranger to you.

“Sorry. I mean,” he backtracks. “It’s just me and my daughter at home, although she’s away at college right now. My neighbors aren’t particularly nosy but they’re usually not home either. We can go on the back patio, it’s covered and I got tables and chairs and stuff. ”

And stuff. Jesus.

It’s like he’s 18 years old again, with marbles in his mouth, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Something about mentioning Sarah seems to put your mind at ease as he sees your shoulders lower as you shift your weight from one hip to the other. You chuckle and give him a smirk.

“That sounds good. I can meet you there, does 5:30 work?”

“Yeah, yeah that works. Thanks.” He ducks his head and gives you a small smile.

“Alright well I’ll see you then.”

He turns to leave before you call him again, holding the small plastic bag up. “You’ll still need these, otherwise we won’t get very far,” you wink at him.

“Right. Yeah that would help,” he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you then.” He grabs the bag from you and gives you one last smile before he heads out the store.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, Joel didn’t live that far, probably a 12 minute drive from the dispensary. That didn’t mean that you took your time though, going the speed limit and dragging out the drive as it dawned on you how weird this scenario was.

He was a customer. And he was way older than you. Something that should have bothered you more than it actually did, which is to say not that much at all. It just made you hopelessly more attracted to him.

As much as he seemed sweet from the two interactions you had, plus the unmistakable way you caught his gaze raking over your body, the rational part of your brain still questioned what you were doing. He didn’t live alone, not technically. You were surprised to learn he had a daughter, but he also didn’t mention having a wife or a girlfriend. Not that it was any of your business. Nevertheless, you tucked that piece of information into the back of your mind as you pulled up to his place.

He had a nice, modest house, at least from what you could tell when he answered the front door with a soft smile. He led you around to the back to the surprisingly large backyard, but what impressed you the most was the wooden deck which featured a nice patio set, complete with overflowing planters, a cute coffee table, and outdoor string lights that were hung up overhead.

You noticed some plastic butterfly fairy lights hanging off of a few deck posts and railings, their colors faded after years of weathering. Running your fingers along the molded ornaments you looked at him and smiled, “nice touch.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “My daughter, Sarah, insisted on putting them up as soon as we finished the deck a couple years ago.”

“You built this?” You look around incredulously. “It’s really nice. Like straight out of a Home Depot catalog.”

At that he puffs out his chest slightly and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Eh, I don't know about that. When I’m not working a job and got spare time, I try to do stuff around the house. This was a quick project one summer,” he shrugs noncommittally.

“A quick project? You built a whole new part of your house Joel,” you raise your eyebrows at him as you sit down on the couch. Still, he brushes off the compliments and asks you if you want anything to drink. Moments later, you’re both sitting on the couch, two glasses of water and the pre rolls on the coffee table, along with the lighter and a small ashtray you brought. Another small cheap item from the dispensary with the logo on it, that no one would likely notice had gone missing.

He shuffles beside you momentarily. You can feel his nerves creeping back as he fidgets and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees.

God he’s so .. big. You can feel the couch cushion dip underneath his weight beside you. His shoulders dwarf the space between you. It doesn’t help that with him being this close you can faintly smell him. The lingering scent of sandalwood, and a sharpness to whatever body wash he uses swirls together in a heady concoction that has your brain short circuiting.

You already knew he was attractive from the moment he walked into the dispensary. But now, getting a chance to drink him in, you’re incredibly flustered. His deep brown eyes are easy enough to get lost in, as are his high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and strong jaw. A jaw peppered with gray stubble and a few sparse patches, that he’s currently tensing as he looks down in front of him. Your gaze follows his to the opened package of joints that are sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

“So what do we, uhm, where do we start?” He looks from the stuff on the table to you.

“Well, there’s really only one step with these pre rolls, you just light 'em up and inhale, and let the relaxation kick in.”

“Seems easy enough,” he gives you a small smirk.

Reaching forward, you pluck one of the slim joints off the table and you grab the lighter as well. The free lighter you gave him.

“Have you ever smoked a cigarette before?” You hold the joint between your index and middle finger, turning to look at him.

He scrunches his face slightly and his brows furrow. “Yeah, long time ago though, not since college. Back when this stuff was still illegal anyway.”

You can’t really imagine young Joel in college. He must have been handsome. That much you were willing to bet money on.

“So basically the Woodstock, hippie, peace and love era?” you ask him with a smirk.

“Now, I may be old but I ain’t that fuckin senile” he squints his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. You bite your lip and smile at him.

“Well, not much has changed since then. You light it, and start to inhale as the flame catches and the weed starts burning. Don’t inhale too much but try to hold that smoke in your chest for a couple seconds, don’t exhale right away. The longer you hold in your breath, the quicker your body absorbs the cannabinoids in the weed.”

He looks at you intently as you explain it to him, but you can still see a bit of confusion on his face, so you elaborate.

“Cannabinoids meaning the THC and CBD, the stuff that cause you to feel relaxed and high”

He nods and you place the joint between your lips, raising your hand to light it, as you inhale deeply, the faint crackling sound of the paper and herb burning. The smoke slowly fills your lungs as they expand, and you let your eyes go heavy as you savor the earthy, fruity taste of the herb as it burns.

You pull the joint away and let your mouth fall slightly open, holding some smoke in your chest as the rest of it falls out of your mouth in an opaque cloud, curling out into random tendrils before it disperses in the air. Exhaling, you turn to Joel and reach your hand out, offer the joint.

He blinks at you a few times. There’s something in his gaze, something heated that you catch, before they refocus and he looks down at the joint in between your fingers. You can see him hesitate again as he stares at the joint.

You duck your head slightly to meet his eyesight.

“Hey, you can take as much or as little as you’d like Joel. Start off with a small pull and see how it feels.” You say, not pressing him any further than that, as thin wisps of smoke curl upwards between you two from the joint.

He looks at you again, his eyes are big and round, like the cutest fucking puppy dog ever. The crease between his eyebrows disappears, as does the frown that seemed permanently etched on his face. It’s almost like he’s asking you for permission. You tilt your chin upwards slightly in encouragement and smile.

“Alright.” He takes the joint from you, mimicking how you held it, bringing it to his lips and looking at you as he inhales. His eyes squint and he frowns slightly as he pulls from it, his broad chest puffing out a bit, the embers at the lit end of the joint glowing. He heeds your instructions, holding the smoke in his chest for a few seconds before exhaling, and you nod in approval.

Fuck.

You expected that maybe that he would wrinkle his face in disgust right away, or start coughing obscenely the moment the smoke entered his lungs. The usual things that beginner smokers do.

But what you’re definitely not expecting is how fucking attractive Joel looks while smoking. Or rather, how attractive he makes smoking look. Either way you’re mesmerized by the way he casually holds the joint between his thick index and middle fingers, the way the smoke pours out from between his lips. Even the way he turns his head away from you so that he doesn’t exhale in your direction. He smokes like he’s done it multiple times before.

You snap yourself out of your daze when he raises his eyebrows at you, his hand stretched out to you offering the joint. Narrowing your gaze at him, you take it from his hand, your fingers, brushing against his.

“You smoke like a veteran Joel. Are you sure this is your first time?” Eyeing him suspiciously, you bring the joint to your lips and pull from it again, this time holding the smoke in for a bit longer, allowing it to fill your lungs.

You can feel the moment that the high starts to creep up on you. The moment that the THC starts to permeate your bloodstream. Everything slows down, flooding your system with a hazy warmth and lightness. Your head is a bit light and you feel your body begin to buzz, as if every part of you is vibrating with mellow energy while you exhale.

Joel makes the sign of the cross over his chest and leans back, settling into the couch.

“I promise darlin, first time.” He replies in that warm fucking Southern drawl.

Darlin.

God. The word slips out of his mouth like molasses, caressing your skin, as you feel your body heat up ever so slightly. You wet your lips, the dryness of cotton mouth hitting you with full force as you watch Joel spread his legs, the further he reclines back and relaxes into his seat.

The downright thirst you’re experiencing for this man however is something else entirely. It must be the Indica. Just the weed, nothing else.

You sit back into the couch as well and pass the joint back to him. “Well, in that case I’m honored to have taken your weed virginity Joel Miller.” Pressing your hand to your heart, you give him a cheeky grin and bow your head.

At that remark his eyes widen and he actually does start coughing harshly mid-inhale, sputtering and hunching over as he shoves the joint back into your hands. You anticipated he would have coughed up a lung anyways with it being his first time but you can’t help the laugh that you let out at his misery.

“Oh shit! Sorry man, are you okay?” The concern in your voice is genuine but you’re still giggling as he gathers himself, slamming his fist against his chest a few times while his coughs die down. He grabs his glass of water off the table and takes a few sips, still breathing a bit heavy as his lungs try to suck in more air.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you’re caught off guard by how husky and deep his voice sounds. Deeper and more raspy than it usually is.

“Jesus, I’ve been called many things before but being a weed virgin, that’s a first.” He chuckles softly and looks at you. “Besides, I bet you say that to everyone who smokes with you for their first time.”

You shake your head with a small smile as you take another toke from the joint. “Actuallyyyy,” you drag out the ‘y’ as you glance up at him from under your lashes, “you’re the first one.” As if admitting that to him is some kind of secret that you’re embarrassed to share.

His eyebrows scrunch together again in disbelief. “No fucking way, c’mon”

“I’m serious." You giggle through your words and draw a cross over your heart, mimicking him. "None of my other friends smoke, the only other stoners I know are my co-workers.”

“Plus, I know it can be a big deal, trying it for the first time, and ideally people want to smoke with someone they trust, whom they know they’re gonna have a good experience with. So I’m grateful you let me share that with you.”

You try to ignore the way your pulse quickens as Joel’s gaze softens while looking at you. You clear your throat and look down at the lighter in your hand, picking at the plastic label.

“I should be the one thanking you. For your patience, and showing me the ropes with this stuff.” He gestures to all the paraphernalia on the table in front of you both and sighs. “I wasn’t keen on trying marijuana. Regardless of whether it was ‘medicinal’ or not.” He huffs as he makes the little air quotes with his hands.

“When my doctor suggested it for my back pain, I was about ready to get up and walk out of the office, but he also made it pretty clear there weren’t many other options. Had to swallow my pride and give it a go. So thank you,” he leans into you a bit with his shoulder, giving you a playful shove, “For making this a good first experience for me.”

He gives you a sheepish smile. Your body begins to heat up at his close proximity.

“Anytime, Joel. Really.” You angle your upper body towards him and look up at him. Your gaze flicks from his deep amber eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes again. You almost miss how his eyes track yours, dipping down to your lips for a millisecond before he blinks.

Jesus. You need to get a grip.

“Uhm, how do you feel right now?” You switch the subject in an attempt to shut your cavewoman brain off.

He pauses for a minute and he looks off to the side like he’s running an internal diagnostic scan. That crease in his brow deepens slightly before his expression softens and he looks back at you with wide eyes. “I actually feel pretty good. A little out of it but pretty relaxed.”

“And the back pain?” You tilt your head at him.

He shifts a bit in his seat and leans forward, straightening and stretching his spine, twisting from side to side, gauging the movement. A baffled expression crosses his face. Actually, flabbergasted might be a better word to describe it.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, “barely any pain at all,” he laughs in disbelief as he looks at you with bright eyes.

“That’s amazing Joel! I’m glad it could help” You beam up at him, still mindlessly puffing away at the joint. You slowly let the cloud of smoke fall out of your mouth, as it spills out you start to inhale the opaque cloud through your nose again.

Joel’s smile falls faintly, and his expression morphs into fascination as he watches the smoke disappearing up into your nose. His eyes are rounded. Like a child who just watched a magician pull a coin out of their ear.

“That’s fancy,” he murmurs.

“Huh?” You exhale the rest of the smoke in a large plume towards the ceiling, and look back at him. “Oh. What? This?” You mimic the action again, pulling from the joint and allowing the smoke from your mouth to disperse into the air, as you inhale it again through your nose.

“It’s a French inhale, nothing fancy. More of a force of habit,” you chuckle dryly. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time, but it was the first trick I learned.”

You look at him sideways but he’s still watching you. The fascination is gone, replaced by a darker expression. Hunger.

Was that weird? Does he think you’re pretentious for trying to look cool in front of him?

“Tricks eh?” He repeats after you and tilts his head slightly. All of a sudden you feel like prey, under his predatory gaze. As if he’s assessing you, sizing you up, about to devour you. You feel your throat start to go dry, and this time you doubt you can blame it on having cotton mouth.

“That’s pretty cool. Can you do any others?” He asks.

Aside from the French inhale, there’s really only two others that you can do. The ghost and doing the classic O’s or rings.

“Uhm, a few others yeah but I’m not that great at them.” You blink a few times and look down at your hands.

“Now that I’ll call bullshit on,” he quips. He relaxes into the couch, draping one arm over the back while spreading his legs wide, his other hand in his lap.

His gaze pierces yours as he murmurs. “C’mon. Show me.”

You’d hardly call it peer pressure but the way his voice gets even deeper and he takes up more space with his position, convinces you.

Resistance is futile at this point. He could ask you to do anything in that fucking tone of voice and you would do it.

You exhale shakily as if you’re about to put on the biggest fucking performance of your lifetime.

For whatever reason, you want him to be impressed by you. Fascinated by you. So you steel yourself and hold his gaze as you take another pull from the joint as it starts to burn out.

Holding the smoke in your mouth, you slowly tilt your head back and pout your lips slightly, making an O shape with your mouth, pushing the smoke out in brief pauses. The first few that come out are a bit small and wonky, but as you keep going, the rings of smoke become thicker, forming perfect O’s that float upwards, dissipating into the air.

You exhale the rest of the smoke out in a rush, stubbing the joint in the ashtray. “I’m a bit rusty. It took a while to teach myself how to do them.”

You add that part onto the end, to stroke your own ego mostly, but also because you selfishly want to elicit more praise from him. Which he willingly gives you.

“Don’t seem that rusty to me at all darlin’. That’s pretty damn cool.” He rubs his jaw with his thumb and index finger, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip.

“You’ll have to teach me some tricks, some other time.” His hungry expression falters as he gives you a genuine smile, not before it’s interrupted by the quietest rumbling sound. His eyes widen slightly before he clears his throat and starts fidgeting a bit more, flexing and flexing the hand in his lap.

You hum and grin at him deviously.

“Hmmm, it sounds like the munchies have kicked in at this point.” You return the playful shove but he barely moves an inch, his broad shoulder feeling like a solid wall. “You hungry?”

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