“I think I’d rather die than tell you what’s on my mind right now.”
“Then don’t.” Dante straightened. “Drink your water while I roll you a joint. Then we can smoke and talk about the weather. But don’t come at me with any more apologies, okay? Because there isn’t enough time in the world for me to return the favour.”
“What do you have to apologise for?”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“I meant to me, specifically. I don’t care about the rest of it. You know I don’t see you like that.”
“And you know you can’t change how I see myself, however much you want to.”
“How do you know what I want?” Sid reached for his water but didn’t drink. “Apart from the joint part, because you might be right about that.”
Dante took the hint and relieved Sid of his weed tin. He rolled a joint in mere seconds and held it out.
Sid shook his head. “You first.”
“How about we do it together?”
“That sounds complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Dante stood and held out his hand, revelling in how normal it had become for Sid to accept it and wrap his fingers around Dante’s palm.
He led Sid to the back door and opened it just enough for the smoke to escape without letting too much of the cold draught in. He lit the joint and took a deep drag, then beckoned Sid closer.
Heat flashed in Sid’s conflicted gaze. He bit his lip and briefly squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, the conflict was gone, replaced by defiance.
He invaded Dante’s personal space and brought his lips to Dante’s, inhaling as Dante opened his mouth and let the shotgun kiss fly, breathing healing, herbal smoke into Sid’s lungs with a slow sigh.
Though, not slow enough, as it seemed only a nanosecond had passed when Sid pulled back to blow the smoke out of the open door.
Dante reeled, half-furious with himself for initiating contact Sid didn’t want for a second time and half-delighted with his own genius.We should’ve been smoking this way all along, no boners and angst, just lips and weed, man.
Sid’s lips.
Sid’s tongue.
Sid’s—
“Fuck,” Sid cursed and brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes the way Dante had learned he did when he was stressed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? It’s just smoke.”
“It’s not, though, is it? It’s me wanting something I can’t have.”
“Why can’t you have it? Apart from whatever boss-employee bullshit you haven’t got round to spouting yet.”
“I’m not your boss.”
Dante let that one go. Sid’s authority over him was something he’d never questioned because helikedit, and he’d pined for it all week long while he’d had to make decisions for himself.
Decisions Sid might not like when he returned to work and inspected his precious flowerbeds.
Dante took another drag from the joint, then held it out to Sid.
Sid’s gaze flickered to Dante’s mouth.
Dante smirked.