Chapter Text
“I don’t get it,” Hinata says with a frown.
“What’s not ta get?” Atsumu asks. “Ya smoke it and it makes ya feel all loopy and nice, that’s all.”
“But how? What kind of spell is on it? What kind of magic is it?”
“It’s not magic,” Atsumu says, snapping his fingers to wandlessly light the fresh blunt in his hand. He takes a long drag, and exhales as Hinata and the rest of his friends watch curiously. Of the group, Atsumu is the only one with any Muggle blood in his direct lineage. He’s a Muggleborn, and everyone else here is pureblood through and through. Atsumu had honestly been surprised to find out that when pureblood wizards wanted to get high, they made potions or cast spells. For all the collective Herbology knowledge of the wizarding community, it seemed no one bothered with psychoactive plants or their derivatives. Or those who did, kept quiet about it.
“What do you mean, it’s not magic? How the fuck else would it work?” Sakusa breaks the silence. Ah, Sakusa. Atsumu’s pet project, and the real reason that he invited everyone here tonight. After all, he couldn’t just ask Sakusa to do drugs with him, one on one, past curfew, in the prefects bathroom. That would be weird. Sakusa would never agree to that. So Atsumu invited Komori too, and a handful of other people, for the sake of keeping up appearances. All to get Sakusa to try weed.
“Well, Muggles obviously don’t have potions or spells ta get them high, so they had ta figure out another way. They figured out that certain plants, when smoked or eaten, dependin’ on the plant, would elicit various enjoyable effects. This one’s called marijuana, but these days everyone jus’ calls it weed. Here, try it,” Atsumu passes the blunt to Sakusa. “Put the tip in yer mouth and suck, then breathe in.” He winks to play up the euphemism.
Sakusa regards Atsumu with disgust, but curiosity gets the better of him and he takes the blunt. He stares at it for a moment then raises it to his mouth and takes a hit. To his credit, he’s able to hold it for a moment then smoothly exhale without coughing. Not bad, for a rookie. Kind of hot, not that Atsumu would ever admit it. Sakusa passes the blunt to Komori.
Komori does not handle the smoke as well as his cousin. Hinata snatches the blunt out of his hand as Komori starts hacking up a lung. After Hinata’s turn comes Bokuto, then Hoshiumi, then it’s back to Atsumu. He takes a couple puffs and looks at the group expectantly.
“So? Whaddya think?” Atsumu gestures at everyone, but his eyes are locked on Sakusa, who remains silent.
“Bro…” Komori’s eyes are already red. “Why the fuck don’t wizards do this all the time…”
“Bro,” Hoshiumi commiserates.
“I don’t feel anything,” Hinata whines. Atsumu passes him the blunt.
“Take a couple more hits,” Atsumu says. “Ya probably jus’ have a higher baseline tolerance.”
Hinata does as told, then offers the blunt to Bokuto, who takes another long drag, though his uncharacteristic quietness indicates that he probably doesn’t need it.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough fer you,” Atsumu snatches the blunt from Bokuto as he goes for yet another hit. “You can have more in a few minutes, if ya want.”
“Give it back to me,” Sakusa says in his classic, flat tone. Atsumu obliges with glee.
Sakusa takes a drag, then another, then another. Atsumu hates to admit it, but he’s mildly impressed. And turned on. Sakusa takes one more drag, then abruptly starts coughing.
“What—” Sakusa coughs again. “—the fuck? It doesn’t taste right anymore. What did you fucking do to it, you asshole?”
Atsumu grabs the stubby blunt and takes a tiny, experimental puff.
“Ah, it’s done.” He says. “Sorry about that. Ya smoked the filter a bit— when it starts tastin’ all acrid and nasty, it’s ‘cause yer outta weed. I have another, if ya want…”
“I think I need to go to bed, and maybe stare at my hands… Have you guys ever noticed how weird hands are?” Hinata announces. As he stands to leave, unsteady on his feet, Bokuto follows, as well as Hoshiumi. For the best, Atsumu thinks. The three of them are clearly baked.
Komori glances at Atsumu, then Sakusa, then back to Atsumu.
“I… am also tired,” He says. “Bedtime for Motoya! Good night, Kiyo. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
With that, Komori is gone. Atsumu and Sakusa are alone. And high, though… They could be higher.
“So, wan’ another?” Atsumu pulls out a new blunt and waves it around a bit.
“Yes,” Sakusa responds. Atsumu snaps and the blunt lights itself.
“You take it first,” Atsumu says.
Sakusa snatches the blunt and takes a drag so long that Atsumu worries he’ll suffocate. Atsumu watches, enraptured, and suddenly finds himself struck with an idea. Sakusa probably won’t go for it… But it couldn’t hurt to try, right?
“Hey, Sakusa…” Atsumu’s courage begins to fade.
“What?” Sakusa glares at Atsumu.
Well, I’m in it now… Atsumu thinks.
“Do ya know what shotgunnin’ is?” Atsumu asks, heart beating like a hummingbird.
“What?” Sakusa repeats.
“Shotgunnin’,” Atsumu says. “It’s when… Uh, it’s when one person takes a drag, then insteada blowin’ it out inta the air, they blow it inta someone else’s mouth, an’ that person inhales, so ya kinda get two hits fer the price of one.”
“That’s disgusting,” Sakusa says. “Unsanitary, nasty, vile thing to do.”
“Oh, uh, I was jus’ curious if ya’d heard of it, we don’ hafta—”
“Let’s do it.” Sakusa says.
Oh. OH. Okay… Didn’t think that would work…
“Okay, uh, which way do ya wanna do it? Or we could try both…”
Tendrils of smoke waft off the still-lit, neglected blunt in Sakusa’s hand. Sakusa doesn’t break eye contact with Atsumu as he lifts the blunt to his lips and takes a drag, holding his breath expectantly. Atsumu leans in, just like they’re about to kiss… His eyes flutter shut involuntarily as his lips part. His heart feels like it might explode. He nearly flinches as he feels Sakusa’s lips brush his own so lightly that he almost thinks he’s imagining it. Sakusa exhales and Atsumu inhales in turn, holding the smoke in his lungs as he feels Sakusa pull away. He waits a couple moments, observing the warmth and tingling in every part of his body, chalking it up to the effects of the drug, then leans back, opens his eyes, and exhales.
For a moment, the pair are silent. Sakusa looks at Atsumu with an unreadable expression. Fuck, he hated it, he hates me, fuck! Atsumu thinks.
“So,” Sakusa starts. “Are you going to do it to me now?”
Sakusa offers the blunt to Atsumu. It takes Atsumu a second to remember to take it. Internally, he blames that on the weed slowing his thoughts and reflexes.
As Atsumu hits the blunt, Sakusa leans forward. This time, it’s his eyes that are closed, his lips that are parted. And he’d already set the precedent that he was okay with a little lip contact, at least in the context of shotgunning. In the haze of the weed, Atsumu has a brilliant idea. He leans forward and presses his lips to Sakusa’s, like a kiss. Sakusa twitches, but remains in place. Atsumu exhales and feels Sakusa inhale. Fuck, I should pull away now, the shotgun is done… Atsumu doesn’t pull away. After a moment that feels like an eternity, Sakusa does.
“Fuck, sorry—” Atsumu starts apologizing as Sakusa blows out the smoke. He doesn’t get a chance to finish.
Sakusa leans right back in, grabs the back of Atsumu’s head, and pulls him into a kiss. A real kiss, no weed involved. No more pretense for lip contact, other than that Sakusa apparently wants it.
A little noise finds its way out of the back of Atsumu’s throat. It sounds suspiciously like a whimper. For a moment, he just sits still, trying to process what’s happening. Then, something clicks in his hazy mind, and he kisses back.
Sakusa is an excellent kisser. If he were sober, Atsumu would be wondering where Sakusa learned to kiss like that. Fortunately, he’s not sober. He’s pretty fucking stoned, more stoned than he ought to be with a tolerance like his, and his body feels like it’s on fire. He leans forward, sitting up on his knees without breaking the kiss, and leans over Sakusa as he awkwardly shuffles into his lap. Sakusa’s hands fall to Atsumu’s shoulders, then slide down his chest, settling on his waist with a grip that’s firm but not too tight. Atsumu settles deeper into the straddle, ignoring the burning in his groin muscles. He holds Sakusa’s face, one hand sliding to the back of Sakusa’s head, fingers tangling in his curls. He moans a little bit as he feels Sakusa’s tongue brush his bottom lip. He opens his mouth a little wider, brushing his tongue against Sakusa’s languidly.
God, this is fuckin’ crazy, Atsumu thinks. Sakusa Kiyoomi, kissin’ little ol’ me. On purpose, even!
As the kiss continues, the novelty never quite wears off. Their tongues brush together, and Atsumu marvels at the sensation of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s tongue in his mouth. It’s everything he’d ever imagined it to be, and so, so much more. It’s intoxicating, the slide of his mouth against Sakusa’s and the adventurous little nips Sakusa has started giving Atsumu’s bottom lip, the buzz of the weed and the smoke in the air and the herbal flavor of the kiss. The blunt lays on the floor, long extinguished and forgotten, and Atsumu’s involuntary moans and whimpers echo off the tiled walls, interspersed with little noises that Sakusa probably doesn’t even know he’s making. Sakusa kisses his way down the side of Atsumu’s face to his jaw, then down his neck, and Atsumu has to slap a hand over his mouth to keep as quiet as possible. Jesus, where the fuck did Sakusa learn how to do that?
Some time and several dark, noticeable hickeys later, Atsumu and Sakusa slump against the wall, baked and exhausted.
“Lay down,” Sakusa murmurs. Atsumu slides off his lap and curls up on the floor. Sakusa lays down as well, snug between Atsumu and the wall, and snakes an arm around Atsumu’s waist to pull him closer, sliding his other arm under Atsumu’s head. Atsumu sighs contentedly, and the last thing he remembers thinking before drifting off is that, for a Slytherin, Sakusa is quite warm.
Atsumu wakes up with a jolt at exactly the same time as Sakusa. Sunlight streams through the windows set high into the wall of the bathroom, telling Atsumu that he’s late for Transfiguration, but that hardly matters to him right now. What matters to him is that he was awoken by the door swinging open and the subsequent gasps of the people standing in the doorway. What matters to him is that Osamu, with his sparkling prefect badge pinned to his robes, hand in hand with one Suna Rintarou, is staring down at him in abject horror.
“Tsumu, what the fuck! What the fuck are ya doin’ in here! Why the fuck are ya with—” Osamu sputters for a moment, pointing at Atsumu accusatorily with his free hand.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to point out the hickeys Atsumu’s got all over his neck?” Suna chimes in. Osamu’s face turns an unflattering shade of furious beet-red.
“You— how could ya— I can’t believe— I’m tellin’ McGonagall, ya piece of absolute fuckin’ human garbage!” Osamu exclaims.
This snaps Atsumu back into reality.
“No, the fuck y’ aren’t,” Atsumu says. “If ya do, I’m tellin’ her ya ditched her class ta come make out with yer stupid boyfriend in the prefects’ bathroom.”
“IS THAT NOT WHAT YER ALSO DOIN’?” Osamu shouts.
“If we go down, we go down together, twin style,” Atsumu replies, crossing his arms with an air of finality.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have Potions next period, and I need to gather my things,” Sakusa says, speaking at last. His face is tinged pink.
“What, yer not gonna try an’ make it to the tail end of Transfiguration?” Atsumu asks.
“No,” Sakusa replies. “I’ll tell Professor McGonagall I was sick. It’s close enough to the truth, I’d say. And you three—”
Sakusa points at Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna in turn, glaring daggers at each of them.
“Not a word about this to anyone, or you’ll find yourself dickless and covered in boils. That’s a promise.” With that, Sakusa stands, brushes off the front of his robes, and exits the room with a flourish. Atsumu stands as well, snatching the forgotten blunt off the floor and shoving it into his pocket. He attempts to pull his robes up to cover his neck, quickly gives up, and leaves with his head down as Osamu and Suna enter the bathroom to continue their previously planned activities. Fuck, well, we had a good run, Atsumu thinks. Shame I jacked it up so bad, ‘cause I really woulda liked another go at him… Atsumu sighs as he starts the walk of shame back to the Gryffindor tower.
That night, as Atsumu is making his way down to the dungeons for the detention he’d received, courtesy of McGonagall, for missing class, he sees Sakusa. He ducks his head down and speeds up, not wanting to extend his shame any more than necessary. As he walks past, Sakusa grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Saturday night, right after dinner, Astronomy tower. Don’t fall asleep this time.” Sakusa whispers. Atsumu can hardly believe his ears. By the time it even occurs to him to respond, Sakusa is already gone.
Atsumu skips the rest of the way down to detention, a smug grin on his face, already counting down the minutes til Saturday night.