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Hunter was going to be pissed.
Fuckkkk.
The two of them had made a vow, albeit temporary, to avoid any kind of substances for the two weeks leading up to regionals. It was a stupid agreement, really, considering Sebastian’s nearly constant trips to Scandals and Hunter’s love of whatever bullshit pills Sebastian had found in his sock drawer and never questioned. Frankly, he didn’t want to know.
But, with regionals, came stress, and with stress came an urge to do something other than schoolwork or practice lacrosse or sing. He certainly wasn’t about to smoke in the dorm, namely because of sharing a room with Hunter, but also because of he and Jeff setting off the fire alarm last semester and attempting to blame it on a faulty sensor in the room that reeked of weed. It wasn’t a great plan, but they were high, so… Now, he turned to the edibles he had scored off some dude at McKinley a couple months ago. Sebastian was under the impression that McKinley was, in fact, cesspit of drug dealing, as any public school seemed to be. Dalton may not be much better on that front, but they were, at the very least, classier with their drugs. Class came with a cost, literally, as the Dalton dealers usually charged double of what he could get over at McKinley.
Now, after about an hour of laying in his bed listening to a shitty (because of the music itself, not the quality of the production) CD mix Hunter had made him, it was beginning to dawn on him that his wonderful roommate was about to arrive back. He had plenty of experience acting fine when high out of his mind, he’s done it to his dad, teachers, and certainly a number of the Warblers (namely Trent), but Hunter was different. He had an almost bizarre ability to read Sebastian, high or not, and Sebastian was almost certain he would know the second he crossed the threshold of their room.
As mentioned earlier, fuckkkk.
Right on cue, the door unlocks, and Sebastian grabs the blanket from the base of his bed to cover his face. It’s a stupid idea, sure, but it was better than nothing at all.
Even in the darkness beneath the blanket, Hunter’s voice rings through his mind loud and clear, “What are you doing?”
Observant as ever.
A slightly muffled, “Sleeping,” comes from under the blanket.
Hunter scoffs, and Sebastian can hear him taking off his shoes and blazer at the door. It’s strange to be so used to his presence that he can envision his exact movements. Soft footsteps approach his bed, and then it shifts, signifying Hunter sat down.
“You’ve never taken a nap, like, ever.” Sebastian can basically feel him rolling his eyes next to him, stewing silently before he grabs the blanket, “Tell me you didn’t break our pact already.”
Sebastian lets him drag it off of him, groaning, “I’m sorryyy, you know I’m not good at commitment.”
At least that makes him laugh. “If we have any shot at regionals, we need to be at the top of our game.”
Sebastian sits up, leaning his head into Hunter’s shoulder, “Being at the top of my game means temporarily not wanting to strangle myself every time I remember someone missing a dance step in rehearsal.” He picks his head up again. “And look, now I want to strangle myself again, which is entirely your fault.”
“I don’t miss steps.”
He pouts, unable to get under Hunter’s skin, “Maybe not, but you’re reminding me of Nick fucking up part of the number yesterday.”
“Sure, strangle yourself and blame it on me, really classy, Sebastian.”
“Fuck off.” He shoves against him, grinning. “Maybe you’re projecting.”
Always up for a challenge, Hunter questions, “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me elaborate on choking you, it’s hard enough to come up with anything coherent right now.” He leans over, kissing Hunter’s jawline absentmindedly. It’s second nature for him to be obnoxiously affectionate, high or not, mainly because it always gets a rise out of Hunter.
He turns away, dodging any more kisses, “I’m offended you don’t want to talk more about choking me.”
He rolls his eyes at the action, “You’re the absolute worst.”
“I know.” With that, Hunter faces him again to kiss him, Sebastian can feel the smile tugging at his mouth. He slowly moves his hands upwards to cup Hunter's face, pressing their sides together. It’s soft— tender, even— which somehow exhilarates Sebastian more than anything else they’d ever done. Maybe it’s the drugs or the way Hunter’s teeth drag against his bottom lip, but he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Eventually Hunter pulls away, still keeping his face close, a smirk blooming, “If you broke your end of the deal, it’s only fair I get to break mine.”
“Hm.” Sebastian considers it, kissing the exposed part of Hunter’s neck; where his Dalton collared shirt didn’t quite cover. He smiles at the shiver that elicits and picks his head up, “I’ll agree to those terms, but—“ He holds up a hand, pointing at Hunter’s chest. “—only if you’re getting high and making out with me.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, babe.” That nickname had started ironically, months before they had even started dating, but now both of them continued to use it, and Sebastian had to admit, it was sort of sweet.
“Great minds think alike, Clarington.” He over emphasizes the syllables in Hunter’s name, purposefully butchering it.
He kisses him again, “Cute,” before getting up and walking over to Sebastian’s desk, where both of them hide any contraband in a removable panel they had discovered on accident while… well, it’s pretty easy to infer what they were doing. “You bought from that McKinley guy again?”
“It’s so much cheaper.”
Hunter makes a face, holding up the edible tablet to scrutinize it, “You’re a trust fund baby.”
“And?”
“You’re supposed to have better taste in drugs.”