nah, jem, think about it. if munson wants to go smoke up with his girl, daniel, then why would i get in his fucking way? have fun, asshole. don't get stabbed, i'm not sewing stitches.
you know what--- ( sharp, quick, angry. then silence, nothing from him for a moment. )i'm not going anywhere
what i'd fucking like to do is go talk this through with my girlfriend and my boyfriend, the two of you, before i smoke this weed all by myself to cope
it hasn't been lit( he really feels like a criminal.
to jem: )yeah, ok
( eddie's waiting for them inside the greenhouse; he's a good ways in, seated on a bench in front of a full grown marijuana plant and a plot of wet dirt. in front of the bench is a small table, there's a bowl of dried buds next to some pages out of a journal that eddie's using to roll more joints. he needs to figure out a way to grind the stuff because the mortar and pestal he's using isn't going to cut it for the whole stash.
he hasn't smoked any, but he's tempted but he's trying to prove a goddamn point now. the crease between his brows is deep and he's focused, trying not to glance toward the door closest to the shack where billy and jem are likely to come in through. whoever gets to him first gets a joint and matches for their troubles, he's not trying for a kiss hello when he feels ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration and is probably radiating it off of himself in waves. )
[ Jem catches Billy on the way in, his mouth an unhappy slash and it's clear, immediately, that he's not fucking talking. Why? Because what's he gonna say that he hasn't already said? They don't like when he talks about their dumbshit idiot choices, or sorry, the choices they make that he thinks are dumbshit idiot choices, because as far as he's concerned, they are.
But the greenhouse is always shockingly warm given the chill outside. Billy really couldn't care less about plants and growing things (except for the part where weed's a plant), but he likes the greenhouse for its warmth, for how much it feels tucked away from winter.
It's childish to ignore Eddie. Billy splits from Jem to walk up a line of greenhouse plants, stopping near enough to peer at the queen herself, the biggest plant, magicked along. His eyes flick to Eddie's little processing spot, the dried bud, his notebook, the promised joint. If Eddie's radiating waves of frustration, Billy meets them in turn. ]
[Yesterday, they had the worst fight of their whole relationship. It wasn’t even about Danny. Today, Jem just wants to melt.
Her eyes roll behind Billy. She follows him in, tugs the straps of her overalls off as she walks - steps out of them as she goes - and says, to Billy: ] Trousers off.
[To Eddie, she says: ] Light up. The faster we’re stoned, the better.
( there’s a childish urge to get up and to storm off, to take the weed and leave them with the bare plant; the rest of the dried goods are locked away anyway. the urge gets stronger when billy stomps over but jem’s voice breaks through and eddie finds himself just too goddamn tired for it.
he wants to be asleep, wants to not feel like any moment the other shoe is going to drop and someone he cares about is dead, having a tantrum, or is possessed. maybe it hadn’t done anything for jem but stephen sure seemed on to something. except —- except now there was no guarantee anyone would wake up from it.
he reaches for a joint, picks it up and lights up. and on that first inhale, fuck, he thinks he might cry because there was a part of him that even though he’d sampled earlier; the first time he was goddamn sure somehow chthulu fucked them over with the seeds even though the plant looks right. still, the sound he makes is close to a little moan as he holds the smoke in his lungs, then exhales and takes another hit. yeah, it’s the real shit. the good stuff.
he holds the joint out, doesn’t really care who takes it as he watches jem and billy do their thing. ) It’s good shit.
( but even if it wasn’t, it’s all they have. it’s better than nothing. )
[ He doesn't really want to turn down weed. He also doesn't really want to turn down Jem... or Eddie. He doesn't want to. It feels like he keeps having to, because he won't bend. Doesn't think he should. Not on this.
He drags his leather trousers down, all the way. His shirt's still on, but open as he and Jem settle on the couch that's been dragged out into the greenhouse. Her overalls slump down into a pile on the ground as he tugs her into his lap, hand idling over his own dick. He's still pretty pissed. The horny will come. For now, his other hand settles on her hip, thumb rubbing against her hip bone as his attention finally rolls over to Eddie, nose twitching at the homey scent of marijuana. God. Eddie sucks it in, breathes it out in a cloud of bliss. Billy yearns.
His thumb rubs over Jim's hip again: ] Who grew it?
'Sides you. [ Eddie had said, but... Well, Billy got mad and didn't retain all that. ]
[Jem settles on his lap like an oversized koala, or a dog, or really anything at all except a human. She wraps an arm around his shoulder, she almost bends to bury her face in his neck. That can wait.
She takes the blunt from Eddie, maybe the safest option here, and takes a long, long drag. She holds it in her lungs for a long time, and then tips her head back and exhales in blissblissbliss. It’s good, but it’s the first hit of something real that she’s had in months. It burns beautifully; it warms her up from the inside out.
She presses the blunt to Billy’s mouth, then turns to Eddie, says, so matter of factly:] I want you inside of me too, while we smoke.
[A month ago she’d had been dying at this demand. Now it’s this thing she needs, sometimes, when she’s feeling stressed. Connection, fullness. It’s not even about fucking, really; it’s mostly about having them there, inside, with her. ]
Sweeney sped things up. ( Stephen helped with the whole drying process but that's not what Billy asked and Eddie's used to not talking about the whole process when it comes to weed; it's better that they don't know, that it's hush-hush. Sure, the cop he'd most be worried about is also sometimes making Eddie breakfast but that's details. )
You're lucky I decided to keep lube out here, princess. ( it's teasing, almost, but slow and languid. Eddie doesn't judge her for something he wants to, for the closeness of being inside of Jem and close to Billy in a way he can't describe. it's more than physical, yeah, and it's not the smoke in the air that's making him warm. not only. the thought of them too.
he pulls the vial of lube out from his back pocket, moves behind Jem with one hand on her hip and another on Billy's thigh. the couch is too narrow, the position awkward at this angle and Eddie's not about to squat unless they turn on the couch or lay down. he kisses Jem's shoulder, ) You guys gonna help me out with that before you start shotgunning the goods without me?
[ It's Billy's turn next and he nearly blacks out when the familiar taste hits his mouth, familiar weight fills up his lungs. He's full to bursting immediately and he holds it in, holds it in until he's sure it's going to hit his bloodstream like a train, and then slowly, so slowly, lets it spill out from his nose.
He likes Quentin's cigarettes. Likes the calm, the horny, but weed.
The last bit curls out over his lip like a long-lost lover when his eyes narrow over Jem's shoulder. He wasn't listening. ] What?
[ Something, something fucking, something, something shotgunning. He presses the joint back to her mouth as his hand runs down Jem's stomach, hand curling between her thighs, palm sliding against her mound and fingers against her folds. She's wet, she'll be a lot wetter soon, and he thinks she can take him just fine as is. That she'll love it.
His fingers are wet with her slick when his arm wraps around her so he can grip into the meat of her ass. His fingers sweep the slick over her hole as he takes hold of his dick with his other hand and guides the head to her cunt. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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don't you eddie :)
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meant only
no one's sloppy seconds
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:) our weed
our eddie :) :)
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WHAT THE FUCK are you on about, billy?
how the fuck am i bullshitting you ( he's going to lose it )
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jem's right. we should smoke and talk shit out
whatever this is rn
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don't worry, pretty sure you can find a third. you already got someone in mind.
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for me
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no one's replacing you
come here
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oh i'd love to see you lose it. come on, munson, don't tell unless you're gonna show! if i make you mad enough you gonna go cry about it to your girl?
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what i'd fucking like to do is go talk this through with my girlfriend and my boyfriend, the two of you, before i smoke this weed all by myself to cope
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[ To Jem, privately: ] maybe.
[ To both: ] if i smell his spit on it i'm going to fucking strangle you. and i'm not fucking talking.
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[ to eddie, on her way out of the shack door, down the short way to the greenhouse door: ]
he'll talk once he's stoned
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to jem: ) yeah, ok
( eddie's waiting for them inside the greenhouse; he's a good ways in, seated on a bench in front of a full grown marijuana plant and a plot of wet dirt. in front of the bench is a small table, there's a bowl of dried buds next to some pages out of a journal that eddie's using to roll more joints. he needs to figure out a way to grind the stuff because the mortar and pestal he's using isn't going to cut it for the whole stash.
he hasn't smoked any, but he's tempted but he's trying to prove a goddamn point now. the crease between his brows is deep and he's focused, trying not to glance toward the door closest to the shack where billy and jem are likely to come in through. whoever gets to him first gets a joint and matches for their troubles, he's not trying for a kiss hello when he feels ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration and is probably radiating it off of himself in waves. )
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But the greenhouse is always shockingly warm given the chill outside. Billy really couldn't care less about plants and growing things (except for the part where weed's a plant), but he likes the greenhouse for its warmth, for how much it feels tucked away from winter.
It's childish to ignore Eddie. Billy splits from Jem to walk up a line of greenhouse plants, stopping near enough to peer at the queen herself, the biggest plant, magicked along. His eyes flick to Eddie's little processing spot, the dried bud, his notebook, the promised joint. If Eddie's radiating waves of frustration, Billy meets them in turn. ]
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Her eyes roll behind Billy. She follows him in, tugs the straps of her overalls off as she walks - steps out of them as she goes - and says, to Billy: ] Trousers off.
[To Eddie, she says: ] Light up. The faster we’re stoned, the better.
cw: suicidal ideation, drug use
he wants to be asleep, wants to not feel like any moment the other shoe is going to drop and someone he cares about is dead, having a tantrum, or is possessed. maybe it hadn’t done anything for jem but stephen sure seemed on to something. except —- except now there was no guarantee anyone would wake up from it.
he reaches for a joint, picks it up and lights up. and on that first inhale, fuck, he thinks he might cry because there was a part of him that even though he’d sampled earlier; the first time he was goddamn sure somehow chthulu fucked them over with the seeds even though the plant looks right. still, the sound he makes is close to a little moan as he holds the smoke in his lungs, then exhales and takes another hit. yeah, it’s the real shit. the good stuff.
he holds the joint out, doesn’t really care who takes it as he watches jem and billy do their thing. ) It’s good shit.
( but even if it wasn’t, it’s all they have. it’s better than nothing. )
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He drags his leather trousers down, all the way. His shirt's still on, but open as he and Jem settle on the couch that's been dragged out into the greenhouse. Her overalls slump down into a pile on the ground as he tugs her into his lap, hand idling over his own dick. He's still pretty pissed. The horny will come. For now, his other hand settles on her hip, thumb rubbing against her hip bone as his attention finally rolls over to Eddie, nose twitching at the homey scent of marijuana. God. Eddie sucks it in, breathes it out in a cloud of bliss. Billy yearns.
His thumb rubs over Jim's hip again: ] Who grew it?
'Sides you. [ Eddie had said, but... Well, Billy got mad and didn't retain all that. ]
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She takes the blunt from Eddie, maybe the safest option here, and takes a long, long drag. She holds it in her lungs for a long time, and then tips her head back and exhales in blissblissbliss. It’s good, but it’s the first hit of something real that she’s had in months. It burns beautifully; it warms her up from the inside out.
She presses the blunt to Billy’s mouth, then turns to Eddie, says, so matter of factly:] I want you inside of me too, while we smoke.
[A month ago she’d had been dying at this demand. Now it’s this thing she needs, sometimes, when she’s feeling stressed. Connection, fullness. It’s not even about fucking, really; it’s mostly about having them there, inside, with her. ]
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You're lucky I decided to keep lube out here, princess. ( it's teasing, almost, but slow and languid. Eddie doesn't judge her for something he wants to, for the closeness of being inside of Jem and close to Billy in a way he can't describe. it's more than physical, yeah, and it's not the smoke in the air that's making him warm. not only. the thought of them too.
he pulls the vial of lube out from his back pocket, moves behind Jem with one hand on her hip and another on Billy's thigh. the couch is too narrow, the position awkward at this angle and Eddie's not about to squat unless they turn on the couch or lay down. he kisses Jem's shoulder, ) You guys gonna help me out with that before you start shotgunning the goods without me?
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He likes Quentin's cigarettes. Likes the calm, the horny, but weed.
The last bit curls out over his lip like a long-lost lover when his eyes narrow over Jem's shoulder. He wasn't listening. ] What?
[ Something, something fucking, something, something shotgunning. He presses the joint back to her mouth as his hand runs down Jem's stomach, hand curling between her thighs, palm sliding against her mound and fingers against her folds. She's wet, she'll be a lot wetter soon, and he thinks she can take him just fine as is. That she'll love it.
His fingers are wet with her slick when his arm wraps around her so he can grip into the meat of her ass. His fingers sweep the slick over her hole as he takes hold of his dick with his other hand and guides the head to her cunt. ]
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