Methadone (substituting) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-08-20 14:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | ketamine, methadone |
Who: Methadone and Ketamine.
What: Date night, exploration.
Where: Out and about, Methadone's apartment.
When: Saturday evening.
Warnings: Possible language, drug references, sexuality.
It felt good to take Ketamine out. Since their encounter in the coffee shop, they had spent most of their time in Methadone's apartment and, while Methadone did love having Ketamine all to himself, away from the eyes of the outside world, there was something to be said for having the beautiful Drug on his arm out in public. Homosexuality was slowly becoming more accepted, so Methadone wasn't quite sure if the looks they got were because they were two males together or because people were jealous of the fact that Ketamine was with him, but he liked to think it was the latter; Ketamine was his, they could look all they want but Methadone was the one who got to take Ketamine home. More settled since their mutual almost-breakdown earlier on in the week, Methadone had been able, after taking Friday off, to go back to work at the hospital with no mishaps, although his superiors had been able to tell that his attention wasn't entirely on his work. It didn't matter, though, Methadone at seventy-five percent capacity was more productive than any other medical resident at the hospital and if the filing was a day and a half behind instead of a day behind like it usually was, well, Methadone wasn't going to worry about it too much.
Not, at least, when sitting across from Ketamine in a slightly upscale diner - nothing too fancy, nothing too sketchy - while they ate, while they passed the time, waiting for Ketamine's necklace to be engraved with Methadone's name. And once they had finished eating and retrieved the necklace from the jewelry store, Methadone's eyes had kept slipping back to the key hanging around Ketamine's neck, the engraving visible to everyone, especially when the light caught it just right. He couldn't stop looking at it during the journey back to his apartment, liking what it represented more than he liked the way it looked. Ketamine was truly his and, even if that came with some conflict within the Opiates that Methadone would deal with later, that knowledge had a slight flush on Methadone's cheeks for the entire night, had little tendrils of warmth curling within him even without having touched his brother. It was responsibility, having someone to care for, and freedom, having someone who cared for him enough to open his mind to a world so opposite the ordered and logical plane that Methadone occupied.
It was all those things, made Methadone feel a thousand different emotions that sometimes clashed with each other, but when everything was boiled down, it simply felt good. And when they finally made it back to Methadone's apartment, the Opiate had a light smile on his face as he slipped out of his shoes and left them, perfectly straight, by the door. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt, he rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, tossed his keys on the coffee table, and turned to look at his brother, his smile reaching his eyes. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" Methadone asked lightly, coming closer and reaching out to toy with Ketamine's necklace lightly, a fingertip tracing the letters etched into metal: Eli.
Yes, Methadone thought to himself, there were a thousand different ways to express how he was feeling, but damned good seemed to sum it all up rather nicely.