thedifferencebetween

"What you want doesn't matter. I'm not trying to be an asshole, it's just the facts. And it's something we gotta be aware of and take into consideration."

Who the fuck knows how it works? Jack's seen so many people come and go, sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't, sometimes they came back and didn't remember...

"No, it is. That's why I ignore most of it and do my own thing. Nobody's told me not to." He shrugs. It's been years and there's been no complaints, so either they aren't paying attention or they didn't care. "Now come on, just...relax, chill out. It's not like anybody's getting anything done tonight! We're having a nice dinner...ya know what?"

Steven does need to chill out. Not get so worried about the possible future. Whatever happens...Jack's gonna look out for him however the fuck long he's here.

"I think tonight's an excellent time to get high and put on a mellow album. I got some Carbink Floyd!"

Steven blinks.

"I've... never actually gotten high before," he admits. "I was always worried I'd... say something under the influence and everyone would know. Or worse, do something and by the time I was sober I'd be in jail."

"You've never..."

Jack sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can't even say he gets it this time. He spent plenty of time on the fighting himself train, but holy shit, getting high was one of the things that always helped. It quieted his mind and let him focus on music or TV or a comic book or whatever.

"Okay, you cannot be going on forty and have never gotten high ever. Fuck it, we're getting you high tonight."

"Look," Steven says, defensively. "Except for alcohol and tobacco, recreational drugs were highly illegal back in my time. The only partial exception was pot and even then you had to have a doctor prescribe it to you. Remember how I come from the goddamn dark ages, Jack? So yeah, being worried about what I'd do while high was the deciding factor, but a lot of why I didn't was that I simply didn't want to get arrested at all. A drug conviction would have done nothing for my career."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Look. I didn't say I didn't want to tonight. You said yourself that it's not illegal here. And I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can say while high that will disgust you."

"No, no, I know, I just...it boggles my mind. How weird shit was in the past. I'm not mad at you or whatever, it's just insane to me that anybody would make it to your age and never been high. Like I'm pretty sure it's insane to you that I could press a button and in seconds a computer would construct whatever I wanted out of essentially thin air."

It's just a weird thing. And Steven is getting defensive about it, further proof they need to get high and veg out tonight.

"And you'll mostly say stupid shit. Or think you're talking but you aren't. You might get a little paranoid, but you just ride it out and you'll be fine."

"Not completely insane," Steven says, dryly. "I have seen Star Trek. And heard of 3D printers. But point taken. Honestly, I think the whole legal murder for everyone thing is more insane to me. Great, mind you, but insane."

He's really been getting much better at saying these things without his face heating up these last few day.

"When it's legal, it's not called 'murder', it's just killing people!"

Jack says this cheerfully. A small distinction, but an important one.

"But come on, let's finish up dinner. It's your first time dancing with Mary Jane tonight, so I gotta set the mood right."

Like choking verses strangulation. Of course.

Steven smiles, "Killing people," he amends--before setting himself to finish his food quickly.

The subtle differences are important to Jack. Semantics are a tool, and he believes in using them correctly.

Jack finishes up as well, and leaves Steven to clean up. He's got other stuff to do. Specifically popping into the downstairs bathroom and retrieving a little box from the back depths of his medicine cabinet.

By the time Steven's done clearing the kitchen, Jack's on the couch in the living room with the lights dimmed and the TV's turned to the travel channel and muted. Jack's rolling a joint, and there's a Mareep standing on the other side of the coffee table, watching Jack with a sense of familiar anticipation.

Given that supper is usually either something Jack paid for or Jack cooked, Steven is more than okay with being the one who cleans up. It's only fair, after all.

(Honestly, given how many awful instincts he has, it's probably just as well that Steven's been socialized with as many notions of decency and fairness as he was.)

Once that's over, he takes his place on the couch next to Jack and leans over, curiously. "So what's in there?" he asks. "It doesn't seem like cannabis."

(Look, just because he hasn't personally done a weed doesn't mean he didn't go to college with people who did.)

"It is not. Ya know how they tell ya not to eat the berries? They are correct! But if you dry and refine the right ones and their leaves..."

Jack gestures to the substance he's rolling into a substantial sized joint.

"It takes a while, and I dunno if anyone's dealing the stuff already prepared, but...eh, it's worth it to get high. And it's basically the same as getting stoned, there's just more of a visual effect to go along with it. Shit gets sparkly, or glows, ya get trails...it's cool."

"Huhhhh," Steven says, interested despite himself. "And you said it's not illegal here, right? Do you just get the berries, then, and dry and refine them yourself? Are you the only one you know of who's tried, or is this-- some sort of, I don't know, counter-culture popular knowledge that you picked up somewhere?"

He frowns a little. "Why isn't Team Rocket dealing it? You'd think drugs would be a natural stream of revenue for organized crime."

"I'm guessing cuz it's not a Pokemon." Jack snorts.

"Nah, other people know how to do it. I picked it up from a teenager a couple years ago. I'd been licking Pokemon up till then... at least the ones that have venom or secrete weird substances or have weird mind effect abilities."

Just in case.

Jack seals the joint and waves it back and forth like a Polaroid to dry it.

"Honestly it all comes down to Pokemon. More people would rather spend the money or the time and effort and use the actual berries on their Pokemon than use them to get high."

Steven nods. "I suppose given how Pokemon-mad everyone is here, that would make sense--but nobody ever tries even making synthetic drugs? Ones that they don't need to use up berries for? Like, okay, this is me digging up old health classes from twenty years or more back, but I though LSD at least is made just from-- you know, chemicals. Chemistry's still the same here, isn't it?"

"Probably, but I'm guessing there's no demand for it. The only people I know who indulge are other transplants, the locals just...I dunno. it's not their thing, I guess."

Jack just shrugs. The way he sees it, it just means more for him.

"Anyway, drug dealing's sleazy when you're not in a culture where it's normal and everybody's doing it. And I'm guessing the main reason it's not illegal is because no one realizes it's even a thing. No reason to start putting it out there and all of a sudden somebody's demanding laws about it. Under the radar keeps it hassle free."

"Right," Steven says awkwardly. "That does all make sense. I just--" He breathes out, a little whoosh of sound. "I guess I just-- sort of always try to figure out how things can be used to benefit me and mine all the time. Pretty much automatically." His face is hot. This is so awkward to admit out loud. Even if Jack's not going to judge him for it. "I just. Usually don't say it, because half the time the things my brain comes up with aren't socially acceptable or legal or what have you, so why bother?"

"And that's why you're a Rocket!"

Looking for opportunities is always a good idea. This world is just weird in some ways, with how it worked. The economy, the government, the vice market... and of course the inability for anybody to manage a weapon of any kind aside from toys or improvised bludgeoning instruments.

"Now here, we're gonna do this right." Jack slides down off the couch and sits on the floor with his back against it, turning off the TV. "And this," he gestures to the mareep who is waiting patiently, "is An Android's Dream, and he's gonna be providing a fun light show for us this evening. Cuz he's an electric sheep! Get it? Yeah, you get it."

Steven slides down to join him.

Right, he thinks. That is why he's a Rocket. For all that he was press-ganged into the local equivalent of the Mafia, for all he hates the useless admins and unclear goals and the mandatory training... he's managed to find his place within their little group of transplant Rockets. They were his people, all of them. Sure, there were some of them he liked better than others and sure, there were some he trusted more than others and not all of them were the same people...

... but they were his. All of them. And this really was where he belonged. He's been able to be himself with them, more or less. More than usual, anyway.

"I do get it," Steven says, with a chuckle as he leans companionably against Jack. "And I'd probably have named one of those the same thing. Well, maybe Philip K Dick instead. Same reference."

Edited 2020-03-14 01:22 (UTC)

"Ha! Dick."

Jack just snickers as he sets the joint between his lips and pulls a lighter from his pocket. He lights up and inhales deeply, closing his eyes. It doesn't taste the same as pot, but it's not entirely dissimilar. There's a familiar earthy, herbal taste to it. But something bitterly fruity, too.

"Mmm." He holds the joint - not out to Steven, but out away from them both - and leans forward, swallowing to force the rest of the smoke down into his system. "C'mere, I'll shotgun ya since you've never done this before."

Steven laughs. "Shotgun me?" he asks, leaning toward Jack in return. He thinks he ought to know what that means, but he can't place it, but that's fine. Jack will know what to do, after all. (Doesn't he always?)

Jack's voice is a little strained from holding in the smoke, but he manages to say 'inhale when I exhale' before his mouth covers Steven's and his tongue pries insistently at the other man's lips.

He's more than happy to offer a hands on demonstration, exhaling forcefully once Steven's mouth is open, lips making a tight seal so the smoke goes directly from one man to the other.

Oh. Oh shit. This is-- Wow.

He kisses Jack back, eagerly, hungrily, and breathes deeply in, taking the smoke as far down into his lungs as he can.

Jack pulls back once he's emptied his lungs, sighing in contentment. God, how long has it been since he shotgunned anybody? He doesn't know. Whatever, it's all good now.

And this...oh, this is nice. Steven looks good in the low light, he's got a strong face that looks particularly dramatic cast in deep shadows.

"God you're hot."

"Mm, so are you," Steven says in reply, reaching up to caress his cheek through the mask. "Handsome. My handsome Jack."

He laughs and leans to press another kiss, where mask meets flesh. "Is that how you're going to give it to me all night? Because I already like this."

"We can do each other, back and forth. Make it last longer." Besides, it just makes smoking that much more fun, when it's combined with essentially making out.

He passes the joint over now, still grinning.

"Do you realize...back in my world, you'd be a friggin galactic celebrity just because we're dating. I mean...we're talking paparazzi everywhere, entertainment media losing their shit, peasants reaching to touch your clothes as you go by kinda famous."

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i just realize marijuana decriminalization didn't happen until after fairy kidnapping

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