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It’s Halloween, and Peter finds himself dragged to a party alongside Aaron and Brendan.
“Where’s your costume?” his mom asks when he walks downstairs in his normal jeans and sweatshirt.
“I’m seventeen. We don’t dress up for Halloween anymore,” he replies, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since Charlie’s allergic reaction incident, their dynamic has been on thin ice (Well, it’s not like that ice has ever been very thick. At least she’s trying, though).
She puts her hands on her hips. “Well, that’s no fun!” She gives a hum of thought, turning to one of the boxes from her mother’s room that she’s slowly been making her way through, and pulls out a gold, wiry crown. “Why not wear this? If anyone asks, tell them you’re...I don’t know, a Greek god or something.”
“Yeah, because Greek mythology is really popular with the kids these days,” he replies, but takes it from her anyway, not in the mood to argue.
He sits it atop his curly hair, and looks at his mom with a small smile.
She smiles back and gives him a nod. “It looks good,” she says fondly, then turns back to the box of her mother’s belongings, sifting through photo albums and the like.
A car horn honks outside, and Peter gives her a wave and runs off towards the front door to meet his friends.
“Be safe, have fun!” his mother calls. “And no drinking!”
“I will!”
***
The party is crowded with girls in sexed-up, barely recognizable costumes and guys with red solo cups in hand, and he feels like he could sink into the background and stay there forever.
He’s in the corner with his friends, leaning against the wall with a blunt settled between his two fingers, raised to his lips. Then, Aaron is nudging him in the side, making him choke on his hit.
“What the hell, man?” he asks, voice raspy.
A finger points quickly, subtly over to another corner, dragging Peter’s eyes over.
A dark-haired boy about Peter’s height stands there, eyes fixed on Peter, quickly looking away when their eyes meet, and he shifts awkwardly, embarrassed at being caught.
Peter feels his cheeks flush, curiosity flooding him. “What about him?”
“Dude, he was totally staring at you!”
Peter rolls his eyes. Ever since he told his friends that he was bisexual, they had excitedly claimed he had “double the options”, and began trying to set him up with basically any girl or guy they could. It’s sweet, sure, but it usually leads to nothing anyway, so he tends to never take their advice.
“Who even is that?”
“He’s the new kid. He’s got a weird name...Dane or something,” Brendan says with a shrug.
“So, he was probably just looking over here because he doesn’t fuckin’ know anyone here,” Peter says. He’s not going to get his hopes up, not after Bridget and her comments about his sister, using him for some good weed. He’s sure he’s content to spend the rest of high school single if that’s the kind of people he’ll get roped up with.
“I’m serious! Go over there and offer him a joint,” Aaron says, nudging him again.
Peter elbows him right back, smiling fondly. “If I do, will you stop being so goddamn annoying?”
“No promises,” Aaron replies with a grin, continuing to obnoxiously nudge Peter, making him laugh despite his exasperation.
He takes a deep breath, passing Brendan the already half-smoked joint, having a few more rolled in his pocket. “Wish me luck,” he says softly, and both his friends clap him on the back and make obscene gestures towards him, making him flip them off with another laugh.
Peter pushes his way through a swarm of drunken teens, wishing for his high to kick in and calm his nerves, though he figures no amount of weed could make his heart stop thumping in his chest.
“Hey,” he says when he finds himself in front of the boy, like an idiot. “I’m Peter.”
“Donnie,” he replies, mouth curling into a small smirk, suddenly seeming so much more confident, and so much more attractive up close.
(How did Brendan get that name so wrong?)
“Do you wanna smoke?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Well, that was easier than he thought.
The two of them easily slip away from the party to the deck outside, the chill October air settling around them.
“I haven’t seen you around,” Peter says casually, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
“I just moved here,” Donnie replies, sitting down beside him.
“Where from?”
“Virginia.”
“Well, consider this a welcoming joint,” Peter grins, passing him one along with his lighter.
“Thanks, man.” Donnie accepts it gratefully, putting the end between his pink lips and lighting the end, needing to cup his hand around the flame because of the wind.
He inhales deeply then passes it, blowing smoke out and watching it float away into the air.
Peter takes it between his fingers and takes a hit too, his eyes trained on Donnie’s mouth, albeit unintentionally.
The sounds of music and laughter spill through the sliding glass doors, but the two boys are silent as they smoke together, slowly becoming dizzy and giddy.
“I hate parties,” Donnie says out of the blue. “I only came because I had nothing better to do.”
“My friends dragged me out,” Peter replies with a shrug. “I have some not-so-great party experiences, so I haven’t been to one in a while.”
“Same,” Donnie says, leaning back against the side of the house, head tilted towards Peter, his eyes lidded and his lips parted, looking like a fucking model, and Peter can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him, right then and there, the high still buzzing through his veins and a moment of stolen secrecy in a random person’s backyard. The idea is all so exhilarating to him just then, that he almost works up the courage to act upon it.
Almost.
“So, what’s your costume supposed to be?”
“Huh?”
Donnie chuckles, idly running his fingers over the joint’s thin and burnt paper. “I asked what your costume is supposed to be.”
“Oh. Honestly, I have no idea. My mom found it in a box and said I should tell people I’m a Greek god or some shit...I just wore to because I didn’t want to make her upset, and I guess I forgot to ditch it in the car like I’d thought.”
“I like mythology,” Donnie says, eyeing the crown with slightly red, hooded eyes. “You could be, like, Apollo...Or something. I dunno.”
The two of them giggle then, their heads leaning closer as they do so.
“Do you wanna shotgun?” Peter blurts out before he can stop himself.
“Yeah,” Donnie replies without a moment of hesitation.
Again, this was easier than Peter had thought. Either he has fucking amazing game, or Donnie just has really low standards (although he’s honestly betting on the latter).
And so they re-light their joint, and Peter takes a large hit, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he leans forward, and Donnie closes the space between them, an awkward open-mouthed kiss in which Peter exhales, eyes half-open to watch the smoke billow between them.
“I don’t think I got much,” Donnie whispers.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. But maybe we should try again?”
“Yeah, we should.”
It’s not exactly how Peter expects the party to go, spending half the night making out with the new kid, Donnie from Virginia, in some football player’s backyard. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world when Donnie steals his phone and puts his number in, and says they should, and he’ll quote: “Smoke again sometime.”
Yes, they absolutely should.
When he gets back in the car, Brendan significantly more sober than he had been when they’d left (thankfully, since Peter can attest that driving high isn’t a very fun time), his two friends immediately begin cheering and wolf-whistling, sending Peter’s cheeks aflame with a blush that he couldn’t blame on the cold.
“What happened?”
“Spill all the dirty details.”
“There are no dirty details!” he whines. “We just kissed. God, get your minds out of the gutter.”
“Just kissed? Then what’s that hickey on your neck?”
His brown eyes go wide as his hand flies to his neck to cover where Aaron had just poked.
“Shit, is there really?”
His two friends nod, and he groans, hiding his face in his hands.
“Maybe we did a little bit more than kiss, but I swear that’s it!”
“That’s my boy!” Aaron cheers, clapping Peter’s shoulder roughly.
Peter shoves him in the most affectionate of ways, grin curled on his lips.
He doesn’t even wait till he’s home to shoot Donnie a text.
“Hey, it’s Peter, from the party. Wanna smoke again tomorrow?”
The reply is almost instant.
“Sounds like a plan.”
***
His parents are both at work, and he’s supposed to be babysitting Charlie, but she’s expressed little to no interest in having him around to hover, so he figures there’s no harm leaving her in her room to draw and do, well, whatever it is she does with her alone time.
Donnie comes over around one, and holy fuck, he is so much prettier in the daylight.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” Peter replies, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. “My mom is kinda psycho about shoes in the house, so, if you don’t mind…”
“Yeah, no worries. Are your parents home?”
“Nah, but my little sister is.”
“You just smoke in the house with her home?”
“Yeah. My parents either don’t notice or don’t care, and I genuinely don’t think Charlie would know if the house was on fire, let alone me being high. She’s always in her own little world.”
Donnie stops to kick off his sneakers, then bends down to pet the dog for a moment, smiling.
Peter can sense him looking around at the house, and feels a twinge of embarrassment. They’re well-off, sure, but the house looks way more extravagant than it really is.
They climb the stairs, Peter going two at a time, up to his room.
“You play?” Donnie asks, gesturing to the acoustic guitar perched on his desk chair.
He shrugs. “A bit. I’m not very good though.”
“I bet you’re great,” Donnie replies. There’s absolutely no grounds for him to make such a statement, but he does it anyway, and it makes Peter flush every so slightly.
They sit on the windowsill and pass Peter’s bong back and forth, and it isn’t long until they’ve found an excuse to get their hands and lips on each other again.
“What are you doing?”
Peter gracefully wrenches away from Donnie’s lips and smacks his head on the wall, grimacing. “Charlie, what the hell?! Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I do,” she replies shortly, eyes moving between Peter and Donnie. “Who are you?”
Donnie’s face is bright red, and he looks at Peter before turning back to the girl in the doorway. “Uh, I’m Donnie. I’m your brother’s friend. And you must be Charlie?”
She nods. “You’re supposed to kiss your friends?”
“Charlie, just get out!”
“The house smells bad.”
“Spray some Febreeze then, just go!”
She shuffles out of the room and closes the door behind her.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Peter says, rubbing the back of his head where he’s sure managed to dent his skull.
“Don’t worry,” Donnie replies. “I have two sisters, so I get it.”
“Oh, really? Older or younger?”
“Elizabeth is older, and Samantha’s younger.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Are you guys, like, close?”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Are you and Charlie?”
Peter does a sort of “so-so” motion with his hand.
Donnie just nods.
Charlie’s interruption had successfully killed the mood, and so they went back to smoking in a slightly awkward silence, knees and shoulders and elbows bumping, which sends tingles down Peter’s spine each time.
“Can I kiss you again?” Donnie asks suddenly.
“Yes,” Peter replies after a second of stunned silence.
And the mood is right back to where they left it.
***
On Monday, Aaron suggests they smoke after school.
“I’m all out,” Peter says when they look at him expectantly.
Aaron and Brendan share a glance.
“What, did you smoke all of that shit yourself?”
Peter looks at his beat up converse shyly. “Uh…”
“Who’s been smoking you out?” Brendan asks.
“Don’t quote that shitty song at me,” Peter mumbles. “And technically, I was smoking him out.”
“Oh, the new kid? Dane, or whatever?”
“Donnie,” Peter corrects.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No!”
“Brendan, have you ever seen him so red?”
“No, I don’t think I have.”
“You guys are the worst,” Peter grumbles, squirming away when they both wrap their arms around him from either side, ultimately surrendering to their platonic displays of affection.
Just his luck, Donnie walks past right then, and offers Peter a small wave and smile.
Peter returns a grin, and both Aaron and Brendan wave too, before deciding it would be much more polite to embarrass their friend in front of his new crush, prodding his ribs and sides to make him do that embarrassingly loud snort-laugh he hoped Donnie would never have to hear him make.
Donnie grins and ducks his head, making his way down the hall in the opposite direction.
“I hate you both so much,” Peter huffs.
“Love you too!” they sing-song right back.
***
“So, I assume your friends know about us?” Donnie asks, watching Peter roll them a joint.
“Yeah,” Peter replies, fingers fumbling with the paper. “They just sort of figured it out. Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know, if you like, didn’t want people to know, or if you aren’t out—”
“I’ve been out since I was, like, thirteen,” Donnie chuckles. “I’m not embarrassed about...you know, us.”
“Us?” Peter asks.
Donnie shrugs, cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah. Us.”
He likes the sound of that.
And so they smoke together, kissing between hits, and finding comfort in the casual high school romance of it all, the lack of pressure around labels or love, just enjoying each other’s company as a little more than just friends.
If they become more, that’s okay.
If not, he’s okay with that too.
He’s just happy to have met him.