InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Life's short and so is Blaine!"

If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods,
@ 2009-05-15 15:14:00

Current music:	the song of despair - pablo neruda
Entry tags:	heroin, marijuana

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
Who: Marijuana and Heroin (tiny bit of Cam at the beginning)
Where: The Highway, apartment building across from the Highway
When: Friday, 8.
Warnings: Drug use, language, cuteness, possible sexuality.

Speed had left for his date, LSD was still hiding under the bed and Tracer was either upstairs or downstairs but Marijuana's mind was so far from his younger brothers, he might have forgotten they even existed. Heroin was coming over. Heroin was coming to the Highway. His older brother hadn't set foot in Marijuana's shop since the Dave incident and Marijuana desperately wanted the two best parts of his life to come together, however briefly it took them to lock up and then leave for the apartment. Sure, the Highway was tense and stressful but it was still the center of his universe. But Heroin was too, in a different way and he wanted the two to coincide, at least for a few minutes. They were closing early today after spending the previous night guarding Marijuana's territory against the chaos caused by the release of so many old junkies into the population, Cam at the counter reading a book about astrophysics and trying not to fall asleep and Wes already snoring away in the back room until it was time for him to get up and take another shift.

Marijuana himself was lounging on the couch nestled between the bookshelf and one of the bong displays, lazing on his stomach with his feet swinging back and forth as he looked over the expense reports for the last week. Really, he was barely looking at them. No, he was stressing about so many things; were the almost shrink-wrap style black jeans too tight? Was the gray dress shirt not dressy enough? His skin was still a light brown; not sticky as the res had retreated to just under his flesh and his hair was still an inky black and his eyes were dark green and he just... didn't know if it all came together and looked half-decent. It caused him to chew on a nail absentmindedly before lighting up a joint and frowning at something on the report. "We went through twelve cases of Red Bull in a week?" He asked Cam incredulously and his mortal just shrugged. "Tough week, bossman. You're not around and Dave is hurt." There was no judgment on the face of Marijuana's third-in-command, merely resignation and Marijuana sighed lightly.

"Fine. Order fifteen cases for next week." Marijuana went back to the expense report, puffing hard on his joint as Rabbit padded out from under the couch to jump up and curl up on the small of Marijuana's back, the god looking over his shoulder and smiling lightly. He wasn't a cat person, but at least Rabbit had stopped scratching him. "You're taking Rabbit for the weekend, yeah?" Marijuana asked, covering up a slight yawn, which drew one from Cam as well, who just nodded and came over to pluck the cat from his boss' back before he sat down on the floor, leaning back against the arm of the couch and looking up at his boss. "When can I go to bed?" Marijuana gave him a light smile and reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "When Hazel comes, okay? Then you can sleep until the morning shift." Cam just nodded and curled up slightly into himself, eyes sliding closed as he rested his cheek against the arm of the couch.

Marijuana's smile took on a tinge of sadness. Cam was next in line for Dave's job and Marijuana had started to expect his seconds to die within five years of taking the job. But he just shook his head and placed a comforting hand on Cam's shoulder before burying his head back into the expense reports, trying not to think about Heroin, trying not to reach out his senses to attempt to feel his brother's approach, trying to force down the anxiety already threatening to overtake him at the thought that his brother was spending a whole weekend with him. What if Heroin got sick of him? Marijuana sighed and pushed the expense report away and stubbed out his joint before pillowing his head down into his hands and closing his eyes with a wistful smile on his face, wanting to just rest before Heroin arrived. But... the smoke wards he'd set on the inner circle of his territory twanged with the arrival of a sibling within that ten block radius and he was smiling down at Cam. "Actually, you can head to bed now, 'kay?" With a chaste kiss to Cam's cheek and a warm finger brushed over his mortal's temple, Cam just nodded, gathering Rabbit in his arms and slipping out the door to sleep.

Marijuana just sat up, lit another joint and stared down at the expense reports as if they actually meant something.

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addictedness
2009-05-17 06:02 pm UTC (link)

Time was perverse. Heroin had come to the conclusion hours before as he tried to push through another recording session and all he could do was will the clock to change. The hours went too slow and the minutes too fast; the seconds were ignored, a last ditch-effort to keep from going insane. Chords and time signatures shifts and octave ranges that once seemed perfect scraped and jangled against his nerves tensed to snapping. He’d fled the studio an hour earlier than he’d intended. Maria and Kris had already been waiting and the duffle – which Heroin still hadn’t looked inside of – was already tossed in the back seat. He didn’t ask how or why they had appeared; simply nodded, smiled, slipped into the backseat with the tabbed Best of Mexico cookbook. Halting fingers traced the flowers on the cover; he didn’t need to open the book; recipes and ingredients and photographs swirled comfortably behind his closed eyes. He’d tucked a shopping list between the pages but he kept his thoughts confined to groceries, kept them away from waiting and wanting and needing by reviewing peppers and tomatoes and cilantro. It worked until he left the last store on his route.

Maria packed and resettled the various bags into the trunk; Kris sat next to Heroin on the hood of the car. His feet were balanced on the front bumper, a trick which normally would have Kris in full lecture mode but for once he let it slide. The elbow to Heroin’s ribs was gentle. “I’m not going to ask if you’ve got everything. I packed the bag and I know you don’t screw around in the kitchen,” the look Kris directed towards Heroin had the god blushing. Kris just grinned. “We need to have the talk about him treating you right or else?”

“No, Kris, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” The long suffering sigh only made Kris laugh, a little too loudly since Maria glanced their way. Both men ducked their heads and fell silent. Behind them, the trunk lid came down with a quiet thump and they stepped back onto the road. Kris snagged his Heroin’s arm before they got back into the car, tugging his boss-brother to a stop. Heroin frowned.

The look on Kris’s face was one they both knew too well. Before Heroin could offer a reassurance or rebuke, Kris cut him off. “I know, kid. True love, one and only, walking on sunshine, I got it. But you need something? You call us, or I will personally kick your ass from one corner of this city. No more of this bouncing us around the world, no more keeping us safe, no more ‘family business;’ we do our job from here on out. Even if that means we have to go through you, we clear?”

Heroin’s jaw twitched but he nodded sharply. “Yeah, we’re clear.” They watched each for a moment; the weeks away stretched sharply and then broke with Kris’s nod. Everything filtered back into its proper place as he slapped Heroin’s back with a warm grin.

“All right, Auntie Hazel, let’s get you to the Church on time.” Kris sauntered back to the driver’s, Heroin’s indignant groan trailing after him.

The drive to the Highway stayed uneventful, underscored by Kris and Maria arguing in the front and Heroin silent in the backseat. He was out of the car almost before it was fully parked and Maria had to race him to the trunk, slapping his hand when he reached for a bag. The groceries were promptly dropped into Kris’s capable arms; he followed Heroin into the shop while Maria hung back to survey from a vantage point. The bags were set quietly in front of the counter while both bodyguards faded back and Heroin tentatively approached his lover.

Marijuana presented a beautiful sight, stretched out on his stomach and those jeans -- Heroin’s mouth dried while his heart twisted into a tight knot. Suddenly the charcoal pants felt too formal and the white dress shirt not dressy enough, though the buttons were left partially open and without an undershirt the cotton was more a haze than a cover. He forced himself to swallow, lick his lips and smile as he drank in the contrast of tan skin and grey shirt. “Mari? I,” he cleared his throat uncertainly, “am I early? I don’t want to interrupt.” He raked his hand through his hair again, freshly washed, it curled at the ends while stray strands fell across his forehead and cheek.

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upinsmoke
2009-05-17 06:46 pm UTC (link)

The sound of the door opening had Marijuana looking up but it also had Wes jerking up from his sleep in the back room. Marijuana always found it amusing that Wes seemed to have an inner radar when it came to threats, real or not, and it took Wes about two seconds to appear behind the counter, hand at the holster on his hip and dark, surprisingly alert eyes watching Kris cooly, appraisingly as the bags were set down on the counter. "Stand down, Wes." Marijuana ordered sharply, ignoring Heroin's presence for the mere moment it took to send Wes a reassuring glance. "Check the perimeter and then take up your post across the street." Marijuana glanced outside for a moment. Shit. Maria. "And behave." The order was laced with smoke and Wes' eyes dulled a bit before he nodded and left without another word.

Then, finally, he could focus on Heroin, who just looked so... ethereal. That was the word and Marijuana rolled over onto his back before pushing himself up, stretching a bit and holding back a yawn. "No, not early." He murmured lightly, reaching up to brush stray strands of hair from his lover's forehead. "And you look beautiful." He couldn't help but say it, over and over and over again and hopefully, one of these days, Heroin would believe him. Marijuana smiled, leaned up to press a kiss to Heroin's cheek before looking around the shop.

"Feel like helping me out a bit? Just got to pull the bars over the windows, lock up the cash register and the vault, make sure the alarm system is armed..." He trailed off, frowning slightly. "Yeah, think that's it. Cam can restock and finish the expense reports tomorrow." His arms wrapped around Heroin's waist briefly and he nuzzled lightly into his lover's neck. "You deal with the windows while I do the rest?" He asked, looking up at his brother with so much love because Heroin was in the Highway.

"And..." He blushed lightly. "Thank you for coming. Here, I mean. It means a lot, you know." With that and another kiss, he was reluctantly pulling away to hop over the counter with ease, bending down to shut the vault under the counter and closing up the register with a snap, his eyes still on Heroin because his brother was in his shop and was willing to help.

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addictedness
2009-05-18 02:23 am UTC (link)

Observing the exchanged between bodyguard and employer carefully, both Maria and Kris watched as Wes left the shop. Once the door closed, Kris shifted back a pace and let Maria take point in surveying the shop. Their guns had stayed neatly holstered but she rubbed her hands together, doing her best to look cold until the switchblade sewn into her jacket sleeve clicked back into place. A single glance from Heroin told her that dear dad hadn’t been fooled. She shrugged, never dropped the bland mask from her face. And yes, it could be considered terrible manners to think of slicing into the bodyguard of Heroin’s brother-lover, but she wouldn’t have gone after anything vital. Well, not exactly, and from the way her boss rolled his eyes that thought had shown a little too clearly on her face. Or they knew each other a little too well. “We can take these across the street; make sure anything perishable is safely in the fridge.”

Both Heroin and Kris fixed her with a look, but Heroin nodded and both bodyguards split the number of bags to carry them to the apartment. Each of them kept a hand free which left two bags; half-hidden next to the counter, but their free hands hovered close to carefully concealed weapons. Kris opened the door, led with his right – his free hand – and swept the street in a second before stepping onto the sidewalk. Maria paused and smiled and Heroin and Marijuana. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll just ask Wes which apartment,” Heroin winced at her smile but let the comment slide and she disappeared with Kris.

Alone with Marijuana, Heroin paused to watch him for another minute before noticing that Mari was doing the same thing. Heroin ducked his head, hair falling forward but not in time to completely hide that he was blushing. The windows offered a much better way of watching Mari; Heroin worked on pulling down the bars while he kept his eyes on his brother’s reflection. “I’m happy to be here. I was starting to feel guilty for always making you drive up to my apartment.” He finished the window he was working on and moved to the second one. “The shop’s amazing, and –” the bars came down easily and Heroin turned, finally processing Mari’s earlier compliment. He was blushing again and even the hair over his face wasn’t doing much to hide it. “You look pretty amazing yourself. You always do.”

Heroin leaned across the counter, snagging a bit of the grey dress shirt between his fingers and tugging lightly. It was enough, at least, to bring them close enough for another light kiss. He sighed, brushed his cheek against Mari’s – a gesture that was quickly becoming habit – and kissed at the corner of his jaw. There was something else he had to do, and even asking Mari was enough to make his stomach twist into another series of far more unpleasant knots. But he had to ask. “Gelibete? Do you mind if… if I go upstairs? To see Harm? I found some paints and I thought…” Heroin shrugged and glanced down at the counter. This wasn’t how he’d want to start the night, but he had to at least see Harmony. Looking back up at Mari, Heroin brushed back some of his brother’s hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear for something to do – for an excuse to touch him. “I probably won’t be long.”

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upinsmoke
2009-05-18 02:55 am UTC (link)

Marijuana smirked lightly. "Good luck getting more than a grunt or two out of him, he's not the world's best conversationalist." But he was a good bodyguard, the best he'd had in years and with Maria's words, he let his eyes go unfocused for a moment to make sure that Wes' issues when it came to women were laying dormant within the violent, protective mind. And while Wes might not be able to handle himself against Maria and Kris, or even one of them alone, Marijuana trusted his guard not to provoke them at all. Watching as Heroin's head ducked, Marijuana's did as well as he did his best to tidy the counter, sweeping numerous cans of Red Bull into the garbage can below and emptying out the ashtray - after picking out a roach or two - as well, lifting his eyes back to his brother, who had turned to pull down the bars.

His gaze slid over Heroin's back and lower, despite Marijuana's best intents to keep his gaze above the belt. Noticing he was being watched, his face went bright red and he turned to the control panel for the alarm system, fingers flying over the buttons easily. But he leaned against the counter as Heroin returned, smiling lightly. "You don't need to feel guilty. I like coming to you but..." He trailed off, shrugging lightly. "This is home and you feel like home. I like the fact that the two best things in my life are comingling." He flushed as he was dragged forward, nuzzling his cheek lightly against Heroin's. "You sure? I know the jeans are... not my normal style at all. Shrink-wrap." He grimaced but brushed it off with a shrug. "Thought you'd appreciate them, though."

With Heroin's request, Marijuana's mind stuttered to a stop, his brain crawling with cold, with ice and for a god of fire and smoke, that was pure torture. Heroin. And LSD. Together. In the same room. Talking. About him? A panic attack started to break through the cold and he inhaled deeply, pushing a light smile onto his face. LSD. Poor LSD, his Trip, his Trip, his Trip, his beautiful Baby Blue, his love... Marijuana stopped his thought process there. "Of course." He said lightly, digging under the counter for two sets of keys - one with six and one with four - and pushing them across the counter.

Touching the one with six, he went into explanation mode in order to calm the panic attack. "These are for the apartment door. The one marked with green Sharpie locks the top lock and then it goes in descending order. The other one is for the bottom door." He nodded over his shoulder at one of the closed doors behind him. "S'the same. Green Sharpie for the top and then in descending order." He stepped around the counter to brush a barely-there kiss over Heroin's lips. "He's under the bed. Lock up once you're done, 'kay?" Forcing another smile, he tried not to think about how much Heroin's presence would hurt his Trip. "I'll wait outside."

And then, he simply had to leave, the door swinging shut behind him and he collapsed back against the glass and lowered his head into his hands, trembling, shaking, his breathing quickening as the panic attack threatened to take over. Desperate fingers struggled to draw a joint out of tight - too damned tight - jean pockets and he lit it with the tip of his fingers, drawing in deep and staring up at the sky. By the time Heroin came back out, the panic attack had gone away and Marijuana was smiling again as he tossed the roach to the ground. "Ready to start our little vacation?"

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addictedness
2009-05-19 04:14 am UTC (link)

The conversation with LSD left Heroin drained as he crept down the Highway stairs. His hands stayed on both banisters; they might have been the only things which kept him upright. Walking into the empty front room sent another shiver down his spine. Where was – but no, he could feel his brother-lover’s presence just outside the door. There was pain there too, a fresh pain that Heroin had caused and he slumped against the counter. Every spinning and burning and weighty atom ached to be joined with Marijuana’s, but Heroin couldn’t. He surrendered his weight to the counter and for a few precious moments did nothing. A hollow ache lingered. It made swallowing difficult; the air conditioner felt overwhelming and he wrapped heavy arms around his chest to try and keep warm, chase away the chills. He needed Mari. The panic was dying down outside the door and Heroin’s legs felt a little steadier underneath him. Yes, he needed Mari and he was right outside the door and Heroin couldn’t stay still when his Gelibete wasn’t next to him.

He raked his fingers quickly through his hair, sending it into even more disarray. A thick curl flopped back against his cheek and he left it. He tugged at the white shirt sharply, adjusted a button and then ran his hands back through his hair which did less than nothing. Well, it was as good as he’d look. And Mari was waiting for him. That was enough to have Heroin walking dry-mouthed to the door and slipping quietly outside. Fresh air seemed cold without the increasingly familiar scent of smoke. A hint of a smile flicked over his lips. “More than ready,” he bussed Marijuana’s cheek quickly before nuzzling at the shell of his ear. “Let’s go?” Heroin’s hand dropped to his lover’s and squeezed before he laughingly tugged him towards the apartments. Everything else melted away, worry and fear and the world all disappeared, and all that was left was Marijuana. Beautiful, brilliant, beloved Marijuana with his dark-water hair and sun-sand skin and the shirt Heroin already wanted to slip off him and jeans – Heroin’s breath caught again, in a light, fluttery way as he stopped in his tracks and threw an arm around Marijuana’s shoulders. With his brother held close, Heroin stole a kiss, all warm and welcome and play. “And those jeans are most definitely appreciated,” he whispered lightly against Marijuana’s mouth, a mischievous glint in Heroin’s eyes.

Then he danced back almost out of reach, still holding tight to his brother’s hand. With the traffic unusually light, Heroin finished dragging Marijuana across the street and paused at the door to the apartment building. Both of Heroin’s hands covered one of Marijuana’s as he pressed against his brother’s side, kissing the top of his shoulder.

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i went over the character limit; rest of his response as a reply to this comment

upinsmoke
2009-05-19 04:52 pm UTC (link)

If the panic had remained, any lingering trace, it would have disappeared instantly with Heroin's reemergence from the Highway and Marijuana smiled happily as his hand was tugged and smiled even wider as he was pulled in for a playful kiss, returning it mischievously, lovingly, wrapping his arms loosely around his brother-lover's waist. "They don't make my ass look too big?" He asked innocently after their lips had parted, giving Heroin a quick peck on the lips before he was dragged across the street.

If Heroin looked with immortal senses, he'd see layers upon layers of mental, protective smoke on the door, see the mental tar pit just under their feet that waited to drag anyone unfriendly down into the depths of apathy and despair but Marijuana just pushed the door open and they were immediately hit with the smell of his smoke; stale and fresh. The building was old, somewhat dingy, graffiti littering the lobby. Painted in huge, scrawling letters on one of the walls was '4;19, got a minute? 4:21, got a time machine?' and a crudely drawn mandala with a powder blue eye at the center graced the ceiling above them but Marijuana didn't bother to look up as he tugged Heroin over to the elevators, pressing the button marked '4' that also had a '20' added on in black Sharpie. The doors opened and Marijuana tugged Heroin inside, leaning back against the railing and pulling his brother in toward his body. Ignoring the various graffiti - Drop Acid, not bombs. Shoot Heroin, not people. and a crudely drawn heart with MJ+DH that had been scratched out - Marijuana leaned up to kiss his brother-lover slowly, languidly, as the elevator began to creak its way up to the fourth floor. Again, time stood still as Marijuana's tongue slid out to trace over Heroin's lower lip, as fingers on his brother's hips tightened almost imperceptibly and as - oh - tongues brushed together lightly before a quiet 'ding' announced that they had arrived.

Marijuana would have kept kissing Heroin but the doors slid open and there was Wes, leaning back against the wall casually with a hand already drifting toward his hip just in case and Marijuana sighed, reaching for Heroin's hand and tugging him out onto the floor. With a manly clap to his bodyguard's shoulder, only receiving a low grunt in return, Marijuana tugged Heroin around a corner. Again, if Heroin were to look, the entire hallway was clouded with completely opaque protective, nonviolent smoke with tarpits in front of every single door, waiting to ensnare anyone who would do the occupants harm. Making their way down the hallway, Marijuana paused to run his fingers lightly over certain painted doors - first one with a green playboy bunny, then over a white happy face, then a biohazard sign - but he came to a halt in front of a door layered with at least twenty more smoke screens than the others. It had an elaborately painted weed leaf with flecks of silver throughout and Marijuana placed his palm against the paint. "I can feel that, you know." A voice came from within, slightly amused, mostly tired and Marijuana grinned slightly. "You're supposed to be sleeping, Dave." And he pushed out with his mind to make that happen. "I can feel that too!" Came the laughing reply from within, quickly swallowed up by a yawn. "I can sleep by myself tonight, Marijuana." Marijuana just went quiet, cocking his head and pushing emotion through the bond, the connection that he had built between himself and his second over the years. "I know, Marijuana. I love you too. Now go have fun and don't worry about us."

With that, Marijuana dropped his hand away from the door. "Who's the boss in this situation?" He grumbled lightly as he took Heroin's hand again with another smile, tugging him down the rest of the hallway and around a corner to the last door, merely painted white. Struggling to draw keys out of his tight - too fucking tight - jean pocket, he unlocked the door and pulled - desperately pulled - Heroin into a hallway painted blue-gray. And he kissed him, the kiss filled with anxiety and anticipation.

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upinsmoke
2009-05-19 04:53 pm UTC (link)

"I have something for you. Kitchen?" Then he was tugging Heroin toward the kitchen and on the table rested a window planter, filled with many flowers that twisted over and against each other in a well-mannered fight for dominance. Angelica to symbolize inspiration, honeysuckle to symbolize devotion, lemon blossoms to symbolize a true and faithful love, orchid to say that Heroin's beauty was refined and delicate and one abnormally large red tulip to symbolize perfect love. There was a ring attached to a fine, silver chain, placed within the folds of the large tulip's petals. Marijuana coughed slightly. "You might want to part the petals of the tulip." And that was the only hint he gave as he was nervously moving away from Heroin to cling to the table with white-knuckled hands. A ring. He was trying to give Heroin a ring. On a chain, so his lover didn't feel forced to wear it on his finger, where it would have meant more, but Marijuana felt the verge of panic coming on again.

Would Heroin reject the offering? Would he see it as far too forward?

Was Marijuana... mistaken? In everything?

This was a step, Marijuana couldn't deny that. But he had poured so much of his power into that little window planter, to make it vibrant and colourful for his lover, to make sure that Heroin just knew what he meant to him.

Perhaps the ring was overkill and Marijuana tried to take deep breaths as he watched his beautiful brother-lover.

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