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The ointment’s numbing effects have worn out over an hour ago, and Bask won’t be home from work for another four hours.
Angel rolls over onto his side, clutching at his stomach in pain. He rubs at the bandages idly, looking over the nightstand to see if Bask had left the ointment anywhere close by, but like the first fifty times he looked, there isn’t any small bottle to be seen.
He flops back into the large dragon-sized pillow with a groan. What kind of idiot doesn’t leave medicine near the wounded?
Angel tries to ignore the pain, he really does. But it aches with a throb that demands itself be known, and as soon as he gets the idea in his head to go looking for the ointment, it doesn’t take long for him to convince himself.
Grunting, Angel pushes himself up into a seating position, wincing at every movement. He scoots over to let his feet touch the floor, then holds onto the nightstand as he stands up slowly, as if he was carrying the world’s most fragile tea set. He begins to shuffle over to the other side of the room, toward where he thinks is the bathroom.
Every piece of furniture is far too large for a human; he feels like a little girl trying to explore a stranger’s house. Wasn’t there an ancient human fable like that? ‘Alice’ or something.
His hands plant on the wall as he takes small steps, pausing every once in a while whenever the pain flares up.
Bask is so going to give me hell when he comes home and sees I’ve been out of bed, he thinks to himself. Like a nagging mother hen.
It’s almost enough to piss him off. Who does that monster think he is, being so genuinely concerned over Angel’s health and taking care of him so tenderly…
Finally he reaches the door and opens it. He grins triumphantly when he sees it is indeed the restroom, and makes his way inside. He passes by the shower and shuffles over to the sink, where a medicine cabinet hangs over the bowl.
As if he wasn’t humiliated enough crawling around like an invalid, he has to stand on the very tips of his toes in order to reach the cabinet. “Why,” he grunts, arm outstretched to its limit, “do you have to be… so freaking big?!” His fingers catch the edge of the door and he pulls it open.
Eureka! Immediately he finds what he’s looking for. Angel grabs the ointment bottle victoriously, but then his eyes catch a small clear bag sitting next to it. It’s filled with a green substance that looks like a ground up plant. To be more specific, it looks like…
Angel hears the main cabin door suddenly opening, and the heavy footsteps of his new dragon friend. “I’m back for a moment, I just forgot… Angel?”
Angel stands frozen in place.
Shit.
“Angel?!” Footsteps rush past the bed, panicked. “Angel, where are—,”
Bask appears in the doorway, eyes wild. As soon as he registers Angel, he stops in place, and then his shoulders heave as he releases a long sigh.
“What,” he says lowly, “are you doing up out of bed?”
Angel wants to roll his eyes. “Getting more ointment; I’m not helpless.” He then points to the small bag inside the medicine cabinet. “Is that weed?”
Bask opens his mouth, then closes it. “Yes.”
Angel can’t help it; he bursts out laughing. “Ahahahaha! Oh my gods, seriously? Ahaha—ow, ow, ow, fuck…”
In a blink of an eye Bask is right by his side, placing his large hands on his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be up. Let’s get you back to bed.”
“Na-uh, Nu-uh, not until I get an explanation for this,” Angel says, grinning despite the pain. “You’re telling me that you,” he points at the dragon’s face accusingly, “have a secret stash of weed?”
“It is not a secret,” says Bask, frowning.
Angel hides his smirk behind his fingers. “Oh my, how scandalous! The great Captain of Morimitsiu, Mr. Goody Two Shoes who follows all the rules and can do no wrong, does drugs in his free time.”
Bask stares at him. “I am confused,” he confesses.
“Pff, don’t be coy.” Angel nudges Bask with his elbow. “I get it, we all need to relax sometimes. But you can trust me to keep your secret. You know, as an Afisa myself, even I sometimes have to do a little bending of the rules.”
“I just said it is not a secret—,” Bask cuts himself off. “Wait, what do you mean you bend the rules?”
“Nothing important.” Angel waves it off with a hand. “Now come on, are we gonna share some of this stuff or what?” He takes both the ointment and the weed bag and starts limping back to the bedroom, leaving Bask behind.
“I feel like we are having two different conversations,” says Bask.
*
Later, after getting Angel settled back into bed and rubbing more ointment into his wounds, Bask sits down in a chair next to him with the weed bag and some additional items, like a metal cylindrical device and some sheets of what looks like paper.
“I don’t know exactly how you humans view cannabis,” he says idly as he opens the cylindrical object in half, “but in Morimitsiu, more specifically in dragon-hybrid culture, it is viewed as a social activity. We liken the smoke to the fire breath of our ancestors.” He takes a pinch of weed from the bag and places it inside one half of the cylinder, then closes it and begins twisting. “We would sit in a circle and pass it along to one another, sharing stories.”
“I see,” says Angel, watching Bask work with his hands like it's some kind of ritual. “So over here, it’s a cultural thing.”
“Yes.” When he’s done twisting the cylinder, Bask opens it up and spills the ground up pieces onto a tray on the nightstand. He then takes a sheet of paper and curls it, not quite folding it, before pinching the grounds and packing them into the paper. Even with his sharp dragon claws, he works with finesse. “We would only participate with those we consider our closest companions.”
Angel doesn’t know how to respond to that, so instead he says, “Over on the human side, it has a history of being illegal. There’s still a pretty heavy stigma attached to it.”
“Hmph. You humans can have such ridiculous reservations over the most unnecessary things.”
“Tell me about it,” Angel sighs. “I’ve always wanted to try this stuff.”
Bask rolls the paper tightly over the grounds, packing it in further, before bringing it up to his face. His long tongue lolls out and licks across the edge in a stripe.
Angel feels his face warm all of a sudden.
“Hm. Then I am honored to be your first.”
The weird thing is, he actually does sound honored. Like he’s excited to share a piece of his culture with him.
Angel wonders what he could possibly share with Bask in return. Would Bask even be interested in learning more about human society?
Once he’s finished forming the joint, Bask holds a lighter to one end and flicks on a small flame. He rolls the joint in his fingers as he touches it to the fire.
“Do not inhale too deeply for your first time,” Bask instructs. “It can be… overwhelming. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Angel watches with full attention as Bask lifts the joint to his lips and takes in a soft breath, his chest expanding. The end of the cigarette lights with embers. After a moment Bask pulls away, letting it sit in his lungs. Then he exhales through his nose.
Bask was right—the smoke curling from his nostrils looks exactly like a plume rising from a fire breathing dragon like those in fairy tales. Angel is mesmerized by the rolling shapes as they dance in the air before dissipating into the light.
He almost doesn’t hear Bask at first when Bask says, “Would you like to try it?” and holds out the joint in offering.
“Oh, uh, y-yeah.” Angel takes it, and, with his mind still occupied with images of Bask breathing fire, thoughtlessly brings it to his lips and takes a deep breath.
Smoke explodes out from his face as Angel hacks up a lung, gasping for air. He reaches out blindly, tears springing to his eyes. Bask is already there with a glass of water.
“I thought I told you not to inhale too deeply,” Bask chides softly as he lifts the cup to Angel’s lips.
Angel chugs down the water, uncaring of it dribbling down his chin. When he finishes, he gasps for breath. “My lungs—,” he wheezes, “—are on fire.”
“Yes,” says Bask. He sighs. “Perhaps I started you off smoking directly from it too soon.”
Angel doesn’t really know what he means by that. It takes several more minutes of coughing and drinking water before Angel feels somewhat back to normal, though it still feels as if there are lingering embers inside his lungs. He swallows, his throat feeling dry even though he’s been gorging himself on water.
“Are you all right now?” asks Bask.
Angel nods, his pride a little wounded but fine everywhere else.
“Hm. Good.”
And then Bask turns, beginning to put his supplies away.
“Wait.” Angel frowns. “What are you doing?”
Bask glances back at Angel. “I figured it was too much for you, and you were done.”
Angel crosses his arms with a huff. Okay, so, maybe he was done just a moment ago. But that was before Trogdor here decided that for him. And Angel doesn’t like people deciding how he feels without asking. “Uh, no? Give me that. I’m going again.”
Bask sighs. “If I do, you will just have another fit.”
“Hey!”
“But,” Bask continues, “There is a better way for beginners. Allow me a moment.”
And with that, Bask scoots his chair closer. Angel almost wants to shift away, but he holds his ground stubbornly.
Ugh, he’s so big. He’s too damn big.
Bask lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes a long, deep pull. This time, he doesn’t exhale after a few seconds. No, he just looks at Angel, and the chair creaks as he starts to lean closer… closer…
Angel blinks owlishly. Too close! He can see each individual black scale framing Bask’s face, the rich color in his irises. This close, it almost feels like Bask is about to—
Face suddenly red, Angel panics and tilts away from him, but then Bask reaches out and cups the back of Angel’s head, large claws skating through his hair. Angel is trapped and helpless as Bask’s face comes within inches of his own.
What is he doing! What is he doing! Whatishedoingwhatishedoing!
They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Angel’s heart pounds in his ears, his lips tingling even without being touched.
Bask frowns. “Open your mouth,” he growls, some smoke escaping from between his teeth.
Angel feels his lips parting automatically at his order.
Softly, Bask releases his breath, right into Angel’s face.
Oh. … Oh!
When the smoke curls past his lips, Angel finally understands what’s happening. As Bask breathes out, Angel breathes in, exchanging the smoke between each other. He can feel Bask’s warm breath brushing against his lips, his hand tightening in his hair.
When Bask eventually pulls away, Angel feels dazed, and he’s not sure if it’s fully from the cannabis.
“Better?” Bask asks, none the wiser.
Angel swallows thickly, his throat clicking. “Uh. Y-yeah.” He definitely doesn’t feel the burning in his lungs this time.
Bask looks pleased. “Good. Then we may continue this way.”
Angel almost wheezes. Continue?! As in, do that all over again? Multiple times??
Before he can say anything, Bask is already taking another drag of the joint.
Angel lets himself be moved like a ragdoll as Bask cups the back of his head again and pulls him closer, releasing his breath directly into Angel’s mouth. Angel’s lips twitch before he remembers to breathe in. His face must be so red right now, his eyes falling into half lids as he lets the dragon do his work.
They do this several more times. With each subsequent hit, Angel can feel the effects of the weed working it’s magic on him. He feels lighter, almost floaty. Time feels slow. They must have been doing this for hours.
At one point when they shotgun, their lips brush against one another, ever so lightly. It doesn’t count anywhere near as a kiss.
Angel giggles.
Bask pulls back, raising a brow.
“You’re missing work to make-out with meeeeee,” Angel sings.
“Ah,” says Bask, “I think you have had enough.” He puts the joint down to burn out and gathers his things from the nightstand, putting everything away in a small container.
Angel frowns. “Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Dick.”
Bask doesn’t look too insulted.
For a long time, Angel just watches him, his eyes hazed over and body feeling tingly. He’s never liked alcohol, doesn’t like the way he’s out of control of himself when drunk, but something about this just feels different. He hasn’t got a worry in the world. Who cares if he’ll be killed upon discovery that he’s on monster land? He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.
Angel lolls his head to the side, hair trailing down his neck, as he stares at Bask working. “Hey…”
Bask doesn’t look up. “Hmm?”
“Is this stuff s’posed to make you horny?”
Something abruptly crashes to the floor as Bask sputters. He starts saying something a few times, but cuts himself off. He won’t look at Angel as he scurries to retrieve whatever dropped.
“That is—erm—,” He trips over his words. “I suppose that is a side effect to some. Ah.” He places the bottle of ointment on the nightstand by Angel’s side. “I must go back to work soon. Will you be alright by yourself?”
Angel flashes him a thumbs up, grinning.
“... Good.” Bask coughs awkwardly. “Then I will… be back at the usual time.”
“Go get ‘em, Falkor,” Angel slurs. “Make that dough.”
“I am not a baker,” says Bask.
Angel laughs, flopping back into the pillows after the dragon has left.
He feels… silly.
Very silly.
And horny! He almost forgot about that.
Angel stares at the ceiling for a long time in consideration.
He hasn’t had any ‘alone time’ since before he crashed into Morimitsiu. Well, actually he’s had plenty of time where he’s alone, but to put it more bluntly, he hasn’t masturbated. Partly out of respect for his host, and partly because he just hasn’t felt the need.
But as he lies there, body warm and tingling all over, he finds his inhibitions are lowered. Why not jerk off? It’s not like Bask is around to interrupt.
Angel’s lips spread into a slow grin. There’s something almost dirty about doing it in someone else’s bed. His own little secret.
Yeah. Yeah, he’ll rub one out. This is the best idea he’s ever had.
Angel reaches over for a box of tissues on the nightstand.
*
Several hours later when dusk is still in the midst of settling, Angel hears the door unlock and glances over to see Bask entering.
The dragon takes one step inside before abruptly recoiling. His nostrils flare as his eyes dilate.
Angel blinks, his high having worn off a while ago. “Uh. Everything okay, Scales?”
Bask just stands there at the threshold for a long time, looking stiff. He finally manages to force out, “I am fine,” as he makes his way inside, pointedly not meeting Angel’s eyes.
Angel simply shrugs to himself.