Work Text:
It started with one of your friends offering you an edible.
Now, you did not hang out with them intending to take anything or drink anything, but, well, an impulse struck and you were curious enough to listen to it. They were nice enough to put this little impulse in a baggie to take home with you, since you were driving.
Which is how you find yourself here, settled on the couch in one of Zayne’s sweaters, with a table covered in snacks and a tall glass of water. He’s notably dressed down, too, in a plain t-shirt and soft pajama pants. He idly massages your feet that rest in his lap as he finds something for you to watch on the TV.
You inspect the innocuous little square through the plastic bag. It’s maybe a quarter inch thick and covered in what appears to be sugar crystals. It almost looks like an obscure Christmas candy you’d find still sitting on the holiday shelf in a store after everything else has been picked over. You’re a little nervous, honestly.
Zayne lightly trails his thumb along the arch of your foot. The ticklish effect has you pulling it away from him and recentering your focus on him. He draws your foot back into his lap with a soft grin. “You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” he says. “You’re not a lesser person for it.”
“I know, that’s not what I’m worried about.” You sigh, dropping the bag to rest on your stomach. “I’ve heard mixed things about edibles. Some people say not to start with them because you’ll have a really bad first experience, and others say it’s the best way to get into it. I’m just scared I’ll have a really bad trip or something, or that I’ll just feel bad under its influence.”
He hums thoughtfully. “If you do start to feel bad, tell me. I’ll help you through it as best as I can.”
You smile slightly. “Is this going to be like an experiment to you?” you tease. “You get to observe me, take notes on my symptoms…”
“I’ll be tracking your symptoms, but I won’t necessarily be writing them down. If I can get a sense for when it starts to take effect, I can account for when to expect certain reactions to it - such as an increased appetite or dry mouth. This way, I can anticipate what you may be experiencing, and help you before it becomes unpleasant.”
“Hence the water and snacks.”
He nods. “Hence the water and snacks.”
You reach out to him and he responds right away, intertwining his fingers in yours. He turns back to the TV, considering all the options laid before him with the same dedication as if it were a life-or-death moment in the middle of surgery. He presses the buttons of the remote to navigate to the animated films section. You don’t argue with his train of thought, even if you’re not wholly privy to it. Cartoons have lower stakes than a live-action drama. If something goes wrong in an animation, especially one made for kids, it won’t feel as daunting or overwhelming.
You pick up the baggie. The little square taunts you. It’s so simple, so innocent, and here you are, scared to even touch it. Refusing to take your hand from Zayne’s, you use your teeth to open the bag, and hold it there as you reach in and retrieve the edible. He watches you closely. Setting the empty bag on the table, you hold the square up to him in a mock-cheer.
“Down the hatch.”
It tastes bad. The texture is bad. It is all bad. You grimace as the gummy seems to crumble in your mouth. He leans forward to grab the glass of water and hand it to you. He checks his watch. 7:32 pm. Now the waiting game begins.
“Remember to tell me when you start to feel the effects.”
“Mhm.” You nod and take a big sip of water. “How long will that take?”
“Around thirty minutes to an hour. You’ll start to feel the effects when your body has started to digest it and the cannabis has entered your bloodstream. The first symptoms you may notice are brain fog and dry mouth.”
You take another big sip before grinning at him. “Thank god I have my own personal doctor to take care of me when I lose my ability to think.”
He chuckles softly. Long fingers trailing softly along your calves and ankles, massaging into your feet, grounding you to this moment. Here, on the couch, with all the support you could ever need for this experience. “Not much will change when that happens.”
You nudge your foot into his stomach. “Hey!”
-
It’s just past 8 when you start to notice anything is different. The movie is a familiar one, so you’ve been making idle commentary on it as it plays out, but now the jabs and jokes come slower. Something will happen in the movie and it takes a second longer to click, and another second for the words to come together. Zayne’s already noticed the delay, making note of it as he passes you your drink again.
“How do you feel?”
He waits patiently as you decide to sit up, shifting to lean into his side instead. “It’s weird,” you start. Your hands feel detached as you take the glass and take a sip. You tell him as much as he takes it back from you. “It’s like being on anesthesia.”
“Hm. How so?”
“It’s like…” You look at your hands, then at the screen, then your hands again. “God, that’s weird. It’s like, like my hands disappear if I can’t see them.”
He sets your glass aside. With one arm reaching around your waist, he picks up your hands in his, massaging your palms and fingers. You watch mindlessly. Then, you look away. “Now it’s like I’m feeling you through someone else’s hands.”
He huffs a small laugh. “Do you want me to stop?”
You hum, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against his shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. It’s nice, sorta.”
He kisses your head. “Let me know if anything else is strange or uncomfortable. I can’t stop it from happening, but we can try to find something to distract you until it passes.”
-
Two empty bags of snacks sit on the coffee table beside the rest. Zayne has had to get up three times to refill your glass of water. You smack your lips together after you take a sip of the cool liquid. "Now I know why they call it cotton mouth."
"Unpleasant?" he probes, watching your face as the next movie starts up. He can tell you're beginning to grow tired, as your blinks come slower and you process less and less of your environment.
You smack your lips again, thinking. "Weird."
He chuckles softly. "Noted."
"Mm, Zaynie?" You tilt your head back to look at him. He takes the glass from your hand before you can spill water all over yourself. "My frontal lobe feels heavy."
He grins, kissing your forehead. "Specifically your frontal lobe? No other sections of your brain?"
"Just the frontal lobe," you say again, the technical verbiage coming out in a bouncy mumble. "It's gonna pull my head forward and then my eyes are gonna fall out."
"Your eyes are going to fall out?"
"Mhm, yeah." You blink slowly, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. "Feels like... like if I keep my eyes open, and I lean forward, my eyeballs are gonna fall out of my head. 'Cause they're already rolling loose in there."
That not quite the experience he expected to hear about. He pauses for a moment, then asks, "Is it unpleasant?"
You're quiet for a moment, too, processing his question and trying to think of an answer. Then you shrug. "Not really? It's just weird."
"Thank you for providing such detailed descriptions of your symptoms," he teases lightly. "If I was actually taking notes, I would have to start a count of how many times you've said something was 'weird'."
You snort, giggling as you tuck your face into his neck. He trails his hand to cradle the back of your neck, massaging and scratching lightly into your scalp. Your laughter turns to pleasant hums as you lay more of your weight against him. He listens to the sound of your breathing over the playful music coming from the TV. Subtly, he reaches two fingers to find your pulse, taking silent count of your heartbeat. No irregularities.
"Zaynie?" you mumble, lips ghosting against his skin enough to make goosebumps appear.
"Yes, my love?" he whispers back.
"Can we go to the store?"
He laughs softly, bewildered. "Why do you want to go to the store? Is there something you're craving?"
You shake your head slightly, barely at all. "I wanna stare at the produce..."
"May I ask why?"
"Mmm... I just really wanna."
His chest shakes with silent laughter. He takes a moment to calm himself down, inhaling to soothe the ache in his ribs from containing it all. "I think it's about time we get you to bed, don't you?"
You don't respond. After a minute or so of prolonged silence, he turns the movie off, picks you up and cradles you to his chest, and carries you off to bed. You're soft and pliant in his care. He can't help admiring the trust you have in him, to look after you when you are so vulnerable and out of sorts. He presses a kiss to your forehead, sets a fresh glass of water on your nightstand just in case, and holds you close as he drifts off to sleep with you.
-
It's mid-afternoon before you actually get out of bed. Your mind is foggy, your entire body is heavy, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. Fortunately or unfortunately, you have a boyfriend who is a medical professional who strongly encouraged you to get up with the promise of your favorite food.
You drag yourself to the dining room, into your chair, and rest your head on your arms. Your eyelids are weighed down by a soul-deep sleepiness. Zayne has to shake your shoulder gently to get you to open them and see a big serving of your favorite food right in front of you. You sit up and rub your eyes as he takes his seat beside you.
"It's expected to still be tired the day after," he assures you in that doctor-esque tone he takes on, "especially given you took it in the evening. Other than being tired, how are you feeling?"
You hum, lazily eating a bite. You swallow it just in time for your stomach to growl and remind you of how hungry you are. "A little... mm... brainless, I guess..."
"As in, it's difficult to think?"
You nod.
"Brain fog," he notes to himself. "Anything else?"
You shake your head.
"Good. It's alright if you want to sleep again after this. I only ask you drink some more water before you do."
"You're such a good boyfriend," you mumble.
He smiles. "I certainly do my best."
You both eat quietly for a while. You feel a lot better with food in your belly, especially considering you missed breakfast. You're a little bit more awake and aware once you finish, catching up on drinking the water he ensures you get in your system. He's beginning to gather dishes when you speak again. "Did I say anything weird last night?"
He smiles to himself as your choice of words, but he doesn't answer until he's gathered both of your dishes and is starting to head back to the kitchen. "You told me it felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head."
You pause, mid-sip. Then sharply set your glass down and turn in your chair to look at him. "Wait, I said what?"