(A/Ns: requested by nawnomschnuff on tumblr. prompt: "this is gonna be so much fun!". fic/AU: it's not too late, it's never too late.

content warnings: drug use, vanijeanne, smoking)

Fictober #1 - "This is gonna be so much fun!"

For the fifth time that hour, Vanitas glanced up at the clock again.

20:21

9 minutes. Jeanne would be arriving in 9 minutes.

Every Friday night, when his parents were out doing who-knows-what, he would invite Jeanne over. Leaving their 16-year-old son in the house alone was just naïve, he thought.

Whenever Jeanne came over, they'd sit outside, smoke a few cigarettes together, and then retreat to the shed at the back of his garden, where they'd make love. Several times.

Currently, he was straightening his hair diligently – Jeanne always preferred it long – all the while sipping on a glass of whiskey from his parents' liquor cabinet he'd freely welcomed himself to. The packet of cigarettes beside him was tempting, but he had self-control; he would wait for Jeanne. Besides, neither of them was addicted, he would say. It was more something they shared. Another thing they could share, just between the two of them.

Just then, his doorbell rang. Almost dropping straightener, he hastily switched it off, and grabbed the cigarettes, before darting downstairs.

Sure enough, at the door stood Jeanne. She wore a short, black skirt, along with a laced, pale-pink crop top, and a leather jacket. Merely looking at her made him smirk, leaning on the door and winking at her.

"You look beautiful, Jeanne," he said, leading her inside.

"Um, thank y-" She began to say, but before she was able to finish her sentence, Vanitas promptly wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in and planting his lips on hers.

She jolted, but only for a moment, and then melted into his embrace, allowing his tongue to slip past her lips and explore her mouth.

As soon as he pulled away, the deviant grin was back on Vanitas' lips. "Champagne?"

"Uh, I actually have something different, just for tonight…" she said, averting her gaze to the floor.

Her timid nature was somewhat off-putting, but Vanitas disregarded it. She was here, with him; if something was wrong, he trusted her to tell him. "Sure. What is it?"

"Can we go, um, outside first?" Jeanne met his eyes finally. But her expression was indecipherable.

Wordlessly, Vanitas went with it, digging a lighter out from one of the drawers in the kitchen cabinets, before following her outside. Taking her hand in his, the two made their way to the back of the garden, taking a seat on the bench as Vanitas grabbed the ashtray he kept hidden back there.

After Vanitas lit his own cigarette, he promptly held the pack out to Jeanne, who took one gratefully. As she stuck the cigarette between her lips, he extended the flame of the lighter. Carefully, she leant forward, holding the tip of the cigarette over the flame for a few moments, before inhaling deeply and exhaling the smoke through pursed lips.

Dragging on his own cigarette, Vanitas couldn't help but realise something was wrong. "You're acting a little strange. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, her gaze falling to the ground as he placed the cigarette back between her lips, and inhaled again. "Just a little tired."

"Alright." Vanitas brushed it off, tapping the ash off the cigarette and taking another deep drag. When he continued speaking, it was through a cloud of smoke, which captivated his attention as it drifted off into the night sky. "So, what did you bring for us?"

"Oh, this," Jeanne spoke cautiously, the cigarette balancing between the same two fingers which unzipped her jacket pocket.

The moment she pulled out a single joint – perfectly rolled – from her pocket, Vanitas visibly gawked.

"Oh my," His eyes widened, as he snuffed the half-finished cigarette out in the ashtray and plucked the joint from her fingers. Scanning it over multiple times, he seemed genuinely impressed. "Where did you get this?"

"One of my friends, um, you wouldn't know her, but... she said we should try it."

Vanitas had never done drugs himself. It wasn't something he was eager to do, but he'd be lying if smoking pot just once wasn't on his bucket list. He'd never had much moral ground with drugs, anyway. Besides, everyone smoked weed every now and again. Once couldn't hurt him, right?

"Well, this night is going to be so much fun~!" Vanitas grinned, placed the joint between his lips, and lit up as if it were a normal cigarette.

The first drag didn't do much, except make him cough a little. Weed wasn't something his taste buds were accustomed to.

The second time he inhaled, however, hit him much, much faster. He wavered, dizziness overwhelming him. Within an instant, everything became hazy. His hands felt warm. His vision was blurred.

If this was what being high felt like, then he was in love.

After the third hit, he finally came back to reality, passing the joint to Jeanne as she ground out her cigarette and took it between two fingers. "It's good. Try it."

Tentatively, she nodded, pressing the joint to her lips and inhaling slowly.

Vanitas could feel himself, in his drug-induced haze, growing quickly aroused. The sight of Jeanne was truly a picture, the smoke from the joint dancing around her. Her pupils dilated, as she passed the joint back to Vanitas.

"It's strong," she chuckled weakly, swaying a little.

"I love it," Vanitas said, his words level.

"It's something new," Jeanne responded with, taking another hit when Vanitas passed it back to her. "It's… relaxing, I guess."

For the next few minutes, Vanitas and Jeanne passed the joint back and forth, each taking a hit at a time until it was reduced to almost nothing.

Once he disposed of it, neither of them had to say another word. First, Vanitas leant in to Jeanne, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was sloppy, but she quickly took control, placing a hand on the side of his face and battling for control over the kiss. Vanitas smirked against her lips. This new dominance from Jeanne was unusual, but that wasn't to say he didn't like it.

"The shed," he murmured, pulling away and clumsily taking her hand in his. "Come on."

"Okay," she whispered, staggering after him.

The shed wasn't decorated with much, spare a single light in the ceiling and a full-size sofa. That sofa being the exact place where they'd made love on several occasions before.

Once again, Jeanne took control, shoving a heavily inebriated Vanitas back onto the sofa with an audible thump. Lips already pressed to his once again, she crawled on top of him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and dragging a finger down his chest. His arousal pressed into her hips, and she could feel it, alright. Prominently.

His left hand – the hand not holding the side of Jeanne's face – skilfully slipped under her skirt, peeling her underwear off.

They didn't need the light on. Even when they were both balls high on weed, they'd done this a thousand times.

But little did he know, this was the last time they'd ever make love to each other.