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"So, you just... smoke in here with the flap zipped up?" Varian asks sceptically. He studies the tent's zip with narrowed eyes. Usually, he wouldn't be that bothered about it, but Hugo's the one who keeps smugly insisting that he re-enforced his tent so that no air can get in or out, "And then you just sit here with all the smoke? That can't be healthy."
Hugo barks a soft laugh as he rolls a joint, "Inhaling smoke directly into your lungs can't be healthy, either," he points out with a wry look up. Varian flushes with embarrassment and is about to backtrack when Hugo returns to his joint, "But for the record, no, I'll open it up a little. In fact, do you mind...?"
Starting lightly, Varian goes to unzip the tent a little, allowing a steady breeze of cool night air inside. Nuru and Yong have long since retired to bed, and Ruddiger and Olivia have made a truce in sharing Varian's tent for the night. Case in point: it's just the two of them. In Hugo's tent. As Hugo gets high. Just to note, none of this is making Varian anxious at all, and his face is only a little red because Hugo's ultra-draught-proof tent is pretty hot. It must get stifling in the summer. He focuses on the advantages and disadvantages of it rather then how Hugo's mouth curls into a satisfied smirk when he finishes rolling the joint.
"There we go. Uh, now where's my..." Hugo pats the ground around him, pushing his oversized glasses up as they slide down his nose.
"Oh, uh," Varian grabs Hugo's lighter from beside him and holds it up, "This?"
Hugo doesn't take the lighter, but rather Varian's hand. His skin beneath the glove seems to prickle pleasantly where Hugo makes contact as his body reacts to the sudden influx of strange emotions in his stomach. Hugo makes eye contact with him and his stupid little smirk emerges once again, "Yeah. This exactly."
Moments pass, and the beating of Varian's heart only becomes louder as he stares at Hugo. He tries to convince himself that this is nothing, that the way Hugo's looking at him is totally heterosexual, and that the length of this contact is completely socially acceptable, he's just awkward, but God there's no way.
"Uh, do you mind?" Hugo says. It's only then that he realises Hugo has been waiting for him to let go. This entire time. So while he's been having a little bi heart attack, he's been sat opposite wondering what the hell he was doing.
He pulls away as though he's burned, "Yeah! Of course! Take it!" he laughs as though there's a carrot lodged in his throat. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Thank you, Goggles," Hugo murmurs. As Varian sits and tries not to die of his own bisexuality, Hugo flicks the lighter. A flame sprouts, and the joint is lit a moment later. Hugo takes it to his lips and takes a long drag. His eyes close softly as he inhales, his mouth forming a serene smile again. He takes the joint away from his lips, then exhales the smoke, before opening his eyes and examining it in his hand, "Aw yeah, that's the good shit."
The stench of weed fills the air, and Varian screws up his nose in disgust. He opens the flap up a little more and tries (in vain) to fan the smoke out, "Ugh, I hope it tastes better than it smells."
"Hm, not really," Hugo replies. He regards Varian calmly, as though he's completely unaware that his emerald green eyes feel like they're piercing through Varian's skin in the best possible way. He looks kind of out of it, to be honest, but Varian has no idea whether one joint is enough to get him high. Especially not as a relatively experienced stoner. His mouth pulls to one side, and he hums, "You wanna hit?"
Varian's response is a spluttered, "M-me?" as he points to himself like an idiot.
"No, the King of Corona. Yes, you."
Varian takes to itching the back of his neck. His hair's starting to stick to it with sweat, and given how wide the gap in the tent flap now is, he's really struggling to blame it on the heat.
Hugo's already disclosed that it's harmful, but he doubts a drag or two will kill him. If it'll give him the sense of serenity that Hugo seems to be experiencing right now, he'd be glad to take it. Then again, he's never done it before, and he'd hate to embarrass himself in front of Hugo even more by doing it wrong or having a coughing fit or something even worse.
So, with mild disappointment, he shakes his head and studies the floor, "I'm alright. I don't know how to."
"We could shotgun it."
He looks up abruptly, "Shotgun? Wha- what's that?"
Hugo shrugs nonchalantly, but Varian can swear that his usually pale face has gone a little red. Must be a side effect of the weed, "It's when you, like, I take a drag then I exhale it into your mouth." he looks away, at everything but Varian, who stares, stunned.
Is Hugo seriously suggesting they get really close to each other and he breathes into his mouth? That's it; he's been in too many explosions, and now his hearing's going. The very thought of it makes his hands so moist they stick to his gloves.
"It was just a suggestion. Forget about it." Hugo mumbles as he goes to take another hit.
Varian holds a hand out to stop him and speaks before he can properly think it through, "Wait, no. Let's do it."
Hugo stares at him as though he's just grown an extra head. Internal Varian does the same, wondering why the hell he just said that, "Really?"
Well. Too late to back out now. (It's not; he knows if he changes his mind, Hugo won't push it, even if he's maybe semi-stoned.) So, he steels himself with a deep breath and says, "Yeah. I want to."
"Okay then," Hugo adjusts himself so that he's kneeling in front of Varian. He pats his thighs, "Come on."
Uncomprehensive, Varian blinks at him, "Uh, come on with what?"
"Well, we can't do mouth-to-mouth this far apart," he replies, gesturing to the space between them, "So come and sit on me."
Varian thought he had experienced bi panic before, however, now, he's got an entirely new definition of the term. He doesn't feel like he can move an inch, let alone all the way up to Hugo's hips. Oh God. He's going to sit on Hugo's hips and shotgun with him. He's not sure if he's far enough in denial to do this today.
Hugo's eyebrows raise in concern. He always notices the chip in one of them, because what's important work when Hugo has an eyebrow slit? "Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't-"
And just like that, Varian is stirred from his state of totally not lovesick paralysis, "No!" he says, abruptly enough to make Hugo jump, "I do, sorry. Let's... yeah, okay. Let's do it."
"Come on then. Joint's going cold."
He pauses, "Do joints go cold?"
"Well, no, but... oh, just hurry up."
Varian laughs slightly and waddles forward on his knees until he's straddling Hugo's hips. He manages not to think about how the warmth of his bony legs is seeping into him, at least until Hugo looks up with a smile and he realises they're so close that their bodies are practically melting into each other. He almost dies on the spot, but somehow manages to choke out an, "Is- is this okay?"
"This is perfect." Hugo replies softly.
As he turns back to his joint, Varian asks, "Do you have to relight it?"
"Don't have to," Hugo tells him, "And I can't remember where I put my lighter down. Are you ready?"
Varian bites down on his lower lip with the buck teeth that Hugo keeps calling cute, then exhales steadily, "Yeah. I'm ready."
Hugo nods, then raises the joint to his lips and inhales. He takes it away from his mouth, then beckons Varian in with one hand. He mentally braces himself as he leans in. As he does so, his nose knocks with Hugo's, but his his stuttered apology is met with a dismissive wave and a hand on the back of his head to guide it down smoothly. He bends his neck instinctively until he finds Hugo's mouth, then stops just short of their lips connecting.
He can almost feel them on his. One twitch, and they would touch. One jerk of the head. One gentle pull from Hugo. It would take so little just to lose himself in this boy.
He can barely force his lips to part, but when they do, Hugo exhales smoke straight past them. It seeps into his throat, down to his lungs, the chemicals rising into his brain even faster than he expected.
The joint does taste as bad as it smells. It also burns his throat a lot more than he expected. Almost instantly, he breaks down into a coughing fit, watery-eyed and huffing out smoke. Underneath him, Hugo starts to cackle with obnoxious laughter. Varian turns his head to the side to continue his coughing in peace, face flaming hot with embarrassment and the reminder of how close they are.
As the coughs finally subside, Hugo makes a visible effort to stop laughing. He gives Varian the most obvious trying-not-to-laugh smile he's ever seen and asks in a tight voice, "Do you want some water?"
"You bastard!" he wheezes back, "You could have warned me!"
As Hugo's laughing fit returns, Varian crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance, "It's not funny," he grumbles.
Hugo's eyes meet his, and his laughter vanishes slowly. His eyes flick down to his lips. Despite the awkwardness and bi-panic-ensuring-ness of the situation, Varian finds that he isn't all too worried about any of it. So what if Hugo's staring at his lips as though he's longing to kiss them? He'd like to see him try.
He realises then that he's weightless, like a feather drifting through the tent. He's euphoric, as though every negative emotion has been taken and put into a box for him to open later. He's flying from his body and travelling the world with his hand locked in Hugo's.
"Hey, Hugh," he starts. Hugo looks up at him like a deer in the headlights (yeah, the redness of his face is definitely from the weed - Varian's is equally hot), "I think I might be stoned." he says.
Hugo's eyes widen, "A-after one hit?"
He shrugs, "It's my first time."
"Well, I need another drag," Hugo tells him, "You wanna shotgun again?"
Varian pretends to ponder it a moment, but really, his mind's already made up, "As long as you don't laugh at me."
"As long as you don't start coughing up a lung," Hugo murmurs. Before Varian can quip back, he's bringing the joint to his lips, "Ready?"
Varian nods, and Hugo takes a longer drag. Learning from last time, he reaches for the back of Varian's head and pulls him in. Where Hugo touches him, the skin starts to tingle, as though the chemicals from the weed are seeping from Hugo's fingers directly into his brain. It makes him wonder, in a vague, hazy sort of way, whether he's really high on weed, or if it's Hugo's presence that has him intoxicated. He smiles softly at the thought and lets his eyes drift shut.
A moment later, his mouth is in front of Hugo's. As his mouth opens, he finds the urge to push it closer to Hugo's almost impossible to resist, but some part (some small, floating part) of him remains in control just enough to push it away. Hugo exhales earth and smoke into his mouth, and he breathes it in slowly. This time, he holds it, lets it fester in his lungs until Hugo pulls away. He wants to take him back, to breathe the smoke straight back into his mouth, but stops himself as his fingers twitch. He exhales it gently, then opens his eyes gradually.
In front of him, Hugo's face is full of content; a soft smile spreads across his cheeks, and what little tension his posture held fades. Only now does Varian notice the red tinge to his eyes and the watery quality about them, and recognises vaguely that he can't look much better.
Hugo hums in satisfaction, "How was that?"
"Better," Varian murmurs. He feels distinctly drowsy, but can somehow think of nothing worse than going to sleep. It's as though he's disconnected from his body, but lacking any undertones of distress. He lets his mouth curl upwards into a matching smile as he gazes down at Hugo, "Still tastes like shit, but didn't hurt this time."
"Mm, good." Hugo responds akin. His red eyes are lidded as he looks up at Varian. The steady thump of his heart becomes all Varian can hear, filling his mind with its steady hum. It's hurts. He loves it.
Hugo's lips look soft. Not for the first time, Varian wonders how they'd feel against his. At once, he leans forwards, his gaze fixated on them, hardly registering Hugo's vague, hazy surprise. His own heightened state urges him on, telling him to just do it, right now, because you're never going to be brave enough to try again.
"Hypothetinally, uh, hypo-high..." he pauses, examining the word in his head. Hypothetically. It's a weird word, isn't it? It's sort of similar to hypothesis, which makes a weird kind of sense. Probably. Uh, shit, what's he doing?
"Phonetic'ly?" Hugo suggests.
"No, uh. In theory. Hypothesis-ly. Um, yeah, in theory, d'you think you'll be mad when we're sober if I kiss you?"
Hugo jumps a little. Varian feels the jolt from where he sits on top of him, but also feels the way that he relaxes. He shakes his head vigorously, his face flushing, "No. No, I won't. Wouldn't. I wouldn't."
He leans in a little closer. Hugo's green eyes stares at the spot straight across from them, which so happens to be Varian's parted lips.
"Well..." he asks. He can't lose his nerve now. Not when he's gotten this far, "Would your stoned self be mad?"
Again, Hugo shakes his head, "Nu-um, no."
"Then. Well, d'ya wanna... try it?"
"Try kissing?"
"Yeah. Like, now."
Hugo starts to nod, "Good idea. Let's do that."
"M'kay," Varian responds. When neither of them make a move, he asks, "Uh, should I start or...?"
Hugo cups his face in his hand. From there, he pulls him in, slowly at first, then all at once, their lips crash into each other. Varian closes his eyes when they connect, deepening the kiss. He pushes himself into Hugo, who pushes back until they're fighting a loving tug-of-war for balance, Varian's unbound chest pressing up against Hugo's solid, warm form.
He tastes of marijuana. It's pretty disgusting - although Varian can't imagine he tastes much better - but he savours the taste, sucking greedily on Hugo's lower lip until he can feel it start to swell. His hands move forward, and the gloved fingers curl into the back of Hugo's hair, loosening his ponytail and messing with his blonde locks. He gives them an experimental tug, which is greeted by a moan. He tugs again, and Hugo moves his lips down to his neck. He sucks on the skin, and Varian opens his eyes, basking in the sheer bliss of the sensation.
As they explore each other's necks with their teeth and tongues, the joint between Hugo's fingers rolls to the ground, forgotten.
♡♡♡
When Varian's sober, he's not mad, per se. Just... really, really embarrassed. Still, waking up next to Hugo, neck covered in bruises and head banging like there's no tomorrow, he stares softly at the blonde as he sleeps and decides that it was all worth it.