Five (out of ?) times that Jake and Katie do pot together (or it's proper name: marijuana).
I don't own a thing.
One
-x-
"How many times have you been high in school?"
"Never."
"Never?"
"Never," he smiles. "Never before driving, never while working, never at school."
"Then when?"
"When I'm alone."
"Bullshit."
"Guilty."
"When then?"
"At parties...sometimes. At the cottage. With people you wouldn't know."
"Oh," she frowns.
"I trust them."
"Mm."
"I have three rules. One: only do it with people you trust. Two: don't push it on anyone. And three: don't be an idiot about it."
She looks at him.
"I trust you."
He looks at her.
"Mari-jew-wanna?" he asks, holding out the joint to her. She giggles.
She tries to take it from him; he snatches it back.
"Fucker," she smiles, though it's mostly nerves.
He puts it back in front of her mouth; a peace offering.
He tells her what to do, how to do it. She hears, but doesn't listen; ends up giggling the smoke away.
He laughs and tells her she's a natural.
He admits that he really does just smoke alone now.
"I'll keep you company," she smiles.
She tells him he smokes pretty.
Two
-x-
She feels a little...disappointed in herself. Would oldKatie do this? Would it break Maya's heart if she knew?
Did she jump into it because she wanted to, or because she loves a boy who did?
She had fun without it, loved life without it, didn't substitute it for anything she was running from.
But who was she, on it?
"You get the munchies," he smirks. "You laugh, more than usual. Get tired."
Do you think smoking makes you 'special'? You think you're philosophical, deeper than the ocean now? Last time Katie Matlin checked, that comes with life experience.
Maybe she should stop.
"Why do you smoke though?"
He clenches his jaw.
"Because I like it."
He takes a delicious drag that makes her want to kiss him.
"Do whatever you want then."
He cocks his head.
"Can I...tell you something?"
She nods her head.
"I don't see the point in things."
She blinks. "What?"
"I...I think a lot of things in the world are pointless. University - what's the point? You go to school, pay $6000 a year or more to learn shit that you could learn at home, from textbooks that they require you buy, which you don't actually use because it's all online anyways. And work - people spend a majority of their lives going to jobs that they hate because they got a degree in something that would make them money, and they're miserable. Why? On the same car route, bus route; day after day, for a 9-5 job that they don't even care about. And marriage. People don't even like their kids anymore. They put on rings and declare this special, unique bond, and leave at the first sign of trouble. They build their lives around these 'plans,' these stupid things that mean nothing. We're all so insignificant. Life...what is it even for? Fuck who you wanna fuck. Work where you wanna work. Go where you wanna go. Be who you wanna be-"
She kisses him hard on the mouth.
She isn't sure if it's the right thing to do, but her shaking heart makes it so.
"I know I seem like I know what I'm doing," he rasps. "I know it seems like I've got life all figured out. I just...don't. Why am I even here? Why does anything matter, really?"
"I wish I knew, Jake," she whispers, running a hand through his hair. This comes out of nowhere and all she can do is hold him. Jake Martin, for all intents and purposes, has figured out life. But the curse she realizes, is that with that knowledge, happiness sometimes escapes him.
"Do the thing!" she got out, her sides hurting from laughing. "Jake, Jake, do it!"
He closed his eyes and held up a hand.
"Listen," he muttered. "Lissssteennn."
Katie doubled over in laughter and he had to put a finger to his lips ("Listen.").
"Ma'am," he says firmly. "Ma'am, excuse me ma'am-MA'AM! Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you remain calm-MA'AM, please take a seat...ma'am, I understand that you're upset, I'm just gonna have to ask you to-MA'AM! I sense your urgency-MA'AM, no need to yell, we're on your side, please-ma'am, take a seat-MA'AM! We're taking all the necessary-MA'AM-"
Her mouth was frozen open, her laughter escaping in loud bursts.
"Jake-" she giggled. "...it's so fucking good...Jake, it's so funny-"
"MA'AM!" he yelled.
She wishes, just for a moment, that he didn't open his mouth. She wishes it was like it was; just fun. Harmless fun. Not because she doesn't want him to tell her sad things. Not because she can't deal with him, this. But because he felt this way, and she didn't know...until he wanted her to.
A beast is supposed to know her prey.
"Sometimes I think too much," he goes on. "So sometimes I smoke."
She holds him tighter.
She thought she was supposed to be the broken one.
"I feel like...there is a point...to life...with you around," he manages. And she isn't sure if it's him or the pot talking.
Three
-x-
"Baby, it's cold outside," he sings cause they are outside and it is bloody cold. She laughs.
"Shut up."
"That's not very nice," he pouts. "Who do you kiss with a mouth like that?"
"Only you."
He kisses her. He teases her lips and tongue, and backs off. She follows, never asking for more, but feeling him out, their bodies pressing closer. He starts nibbling on her lips, his hands wandering. Strong, capable, rough hands.
She turns aggressive. God, it feels good. She curls an arm around his neck and sinks onto him.
"Hey," he says lowly.
"Hey," she says back.
"Wanna do it?"
She quirks an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Fuck yes."
He grips her hip. "Ready?"
"Ready," she smiles, watching as brings the joint to his lips and inhales.
He bucks his hips and she smashes her lips over his. She sucks the air from his mouth, and blows back in, trying to keep their faces together.
Then she starts giggling, and he accidentally bites her lip.
"No, no babe...sweetheart, we have to concentrate. Listen, it's not gonna work if you laugh, babe."
And then they can't breathe because this is stupid and they can't stop laughing. They try two more times, and it's useless, but at least she gets two punches in.
They just end up holding the joint for each other as they each take a couple drags.
She wants to fuck him. Hard and slow and long.
"I love you," he confesses like he can't believe it.
Tell me that when you're not high.
She doesn't doubt it. Just waits for him to figure out that he really, really doesn't.
"You know I have to kill you for calling me 'babe' and 'sweetheart' right?"
He smiles like he knows.
"You've got the best tits ever," he swears. "You're so smart, and so beautiful, and you make the best mac n cheese ever, okay?"
They laugh.
"My kamikaze girl," he drawls. "With the best tits ever."
Four
-x-
He isn't mysterious. He isn't secretive. He just tells people things when they ask, and they don't ask often.
Life isn't a show.
And when he's high, he tells people things even when they don't ask.
His last trip with Eli was brilliant. God, it was hilarious. If you told him a year ago that they'd be friends, he'd have laughed and taken a wrongly recycled plastic bag to strangle you with.
"Dr. Bipolar?" Katie snapped, like it was somehow only reserved for them.
"He's a big boy," Jake smirked. "I can't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. Don't worry, I'll look after him."
"Look after yourself."
She gripped Eli's collar.
"Don't do anything to fuck up what you have with Clare. And don't do anything to fuck up your health."
Eli looked amusedly at Jake.
"Just smile and nod," Jake instructed.
"Don't smoke alone. Ever. Got it?" she growled.
Eli regarded her boldly.
"So are we going to smoke now or what?" she asked, holding the joint to Eli's lighter.
Eli mostly hangs around now as Jake smokes up anyways, like Jake knew he would.
Rule two: don't push it on anyone. He wanted to tell Katie to look at rule three again.
-x-
He's a boy of action, so he's slightly overwhelmed when she wants to talk.
"Why don't you tell me stuff, dick?" she asks, panting and giggling in their haze. She always grinds against him by this point, completely and cruelly aware. In just. the. right. way.
He strokes her gently though, never taking it beyond that point when they've smoked.
She smiles like she knows.
"Dick."
There's just nothing to say.
He isn't hiding anything from her, he assures. He just prefers to listen, to observe. And he wants to promise it - but promises are just empty words and he hates words. Sometimes anyway. He wants to save his words for an important day, when they'll actually mean something. He just wants to save his words for things and people that matter.
"Don't tell me everything about you," he says one night. He wants to figure her out himself. He has a list, stowed in the back of his mind - remembers pointless things about her that he knows she cares about.
Number one: she never takes the last of anything. ("It's rude!")
Number two: she always swipes the table after each bite ("I don't like crumbs.")
Number three: she always screams when she farts in front of him ("Go away!")
And so on...
His new high.
"God no," she agrees. "That would take the fun out of everything, wouldn't it?"
And she snuffs out the joint.
Five
-x-
"Do you want some brownies?"
"Weed brownies?"
"No!" she giggles, snorting with laughter. "Brownie, Brownies."
"Fuck yeah."
She gets up, and starts rummaging through the kitchen.
"Can I help?" he asks smoothly, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her. "You kinda suck at cooking-"
She punches him.
"Fuck you, I bake great brownies."
He giggles - giggles.
They measure the ingredients, pour the mixture, and shrug at the flour and chocolate on their clothes (even though her mom and dad and Maya will be home soon). Jake wastes several chocolate chips by throwing them in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.
She tries to lick the entire spoon clean, but not before he slaps it against her face.
About half an hour later ("Don't touch-" slap, "those are for everyone!"), the kitchen smells heavenly, and they share a tender smile.
"Jake," she purrs, pulling out two wrapped pieces from the fridge. "I might have made some extra...special brownies...for just the two of us. If you're interested..."
He licks his lips.
"I love you."
Number thirty-one: she cries when you tell her you love her.
"You're just saying that because I made you brownies, asshole."
He kisses her, all heat and agony.
"I love you."
She smiles, because she knows it's him talking.
"I'm hungry," she announces, and he looks disheartened and crestfallen. Looks like he wishes he didn't use words at all.
She grabs the weed brownies in one hand, and his shirt in the other.
"I love you too."
They save the brownies for another day.
Good lord, that turned out way more angsty than I intended! But I've got to follow my muse, so I hope you liked it anyway :)