#*smugly* this is why i smoke pipe tobacco

[bucketofcowboys]

2 Idiots At 2 AM

Thank you to RachelSnow on AO3 for beta reading this fic for me! I really appreciate it!

Relationship: Kazuma Kiryu & Akira Nishikiyama (NOT SHIP)

Warning: Underage Smoking, Smoking, a lil bit of angst, no spoilers for the games tho

Words: 2,044

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684367

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Everything felt hazy, and the first thing Kiryu realized was that someone was holding his hand. The second thing he realized was that the hand was guiding him forwards, and his legs went with it like it was the natural flow of things. He didn't know who it was, nor did he know where he was going, all he knew was that for some reason he was completely at peace with it. He felt lax, like he was floating atop calm waters. It lapped at his skin in tranquil waves.

When he finally raised his head up to meet the gaze of the person that was holding his hand, he realized that they had no features. Instead they were smudged, like the scribbles of a pencil streaked against paper. Even with the terrifying lack of a face, he proceeded like nothing was out of place. Though he could not properly get a look at her, for some reason naturally in his mind, he identified the person guiding him as his mother. Her hands were soft and warm. Her voice was gentle, though he couldn't process what she was saying.

They approached a building that looked very familiar to him. It almost looked like Sunflower, but the signs were gone and it looked empty. He mindlessly labeled it as 'home'. He felt like he had lived there for years with his mom, though he couldn't pinpoint any specific memories that proved it. In front of the building stood another person with the same smudged looking face as her. He identified him as father. He smiled as they stepped in front of him. He had no face, so there was no way he could actually smile, but Kiryu felt it. He felt him smile at them, all cordial and bright and sunny.

"Kazuma!" Kiryu heard someone shout, and in an instant that warm calm feeling shattered like sheets of ice against the pavement. He turned around and he saw Nishiki on the ground. He was crying, broken. Knees torn open in great gashes. He turned back towards his parents, wanting to ask for help, but they were gone. Dissipated like dust in the wind.

"Kazuma! Wake up!" He opened his eyes and found himself laying on the wooden floor of he and Nishiki's shared room. He pulled his pressure numb arm out from under him, which he had been using as a pillow, and blinked a few times as he regained consciousness. Nishiki was squatting above him, flicking his forehead. They both were in the doorway of their room, and Kiryu had no idea how either of them got there. 

"Stop it!" He swatted the hand away from his face and pushed himself to sit up, "What happened?" He was still phased out of reality after that dream. Dreams about his parents always made him feel a bit disconnected once he woke up. Nishiki rolled his eyes.

"You fell asleep when I told you to be on the lookout for me, you dumbass." Nishiki flicked his head once more, and Kiryu groaned in disapproval. 

"They didn't catch you though, so I did my job." Kiryu pointed out, "Did you get it?" 

Nishiki rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed by his lack of confidence in him. 

"Yeah, of course I did." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of hi-lights. He popped open the top to show off the fact that it still had a few cigs in it. Kiryu raised his eyebrows, impressed. 

"Well give me one--" Kiryu impatiently grabbed at the package, and Nishiki immediately pulled back and held the cigarettes up and as far away as he could from him. Kiryu was taller, and could easily reach over him and grab them if he wanted to, but he didn't. He just sat there pouting. 

"Are you stupid? We can't smoke in here! What about my sister, dumbass!" He went to knock Kiryu on his head, but he quickly blocked it with his arm and threw Nishiki off of him. "We gotta smoke outside."

Kiryu shivered at the idea. It had been freezing the past few days, and he doubted just because two rebellious teens wanted to smoke that the temperature would magically spike up. But, Nishiki was right. Yuko definitely wouldn't fare well if she inhaled a bunch of smoke in her sleep, and smoking inside the building was banned anyways. If they smoked in there he was sure everyone would recognize the smell and they'd be in big trouble. He sighed, and got up to grab his jacket.

Once he arrived back at the doorway, Nishiki was already tiptoeing his way down the hall. Kiryu quickly made his way to follow, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could manage. If someone woke up and saw their door wide open, they were sure to become suspicious. He cautiously avoided the especially squeaky floor boards as he walked down the corridor, passing by Yumi and Yuko's own room with a flinch. If either of them found out what they were sneaking out to do they'd probably kill him and Nishiki. 

They finally entered the main area, and peered around the corner of the wall before they even attempted to get close to the front door. Scanning the darkened room, they saw no one occupying it. The usually full and bustling orphanage was disturbingly quiet during the night, many of the younger kids in a dead sleep after hours of play, the older ones confined in their rooms doing homework with only a flimsy book light to keep them company. He chased after Nishiki as he dashed towards the door, almost falling as his socks slid on the slick hardwood. Nishiki flipped the lock on the brass knob and it gave a click of approval, then he opened the door, as slowly as he possibly could to prevent any creaking.

Cool air rushed in and brushed past the both of them, causing a conjoined shiver. Kiryu tugged his jacket on tighter and regretted not putting anything over his tank top before deciding to do this. Eventually the door slid open to where the both of them could squeeze their body through, and then they spent a good couple minutes slowly closing it just in case. Outside, little flakes of snow had begun to fall from the dark gray sky. Under the cover of the night and winter, the white specks could be ash from a volcano and neither of them would notice a thing. Cool winds blew past, and the only things that illuminated their faces were the half moon in the sky, and the nearby porch light that lit up the wooden Sunflower sign. 

Nishiki quickly made his way to hide over at the side of the building, thinking they were less likely to be caught if they weren't directly in the front. Once they were under cover, they squatted down against the siding and Nishiki pulled out the pack of cigs again. He opened it and pulled out two of the white sticks and handed one to Kiryu while keeping the other for himself. Kiryu eyed at the object for a second, quickly realizing that the side with the blue lines was the side you were meant to smoke from, judging by the white foam filter he could see. The other side was jammed packed with dried tobacco. He sniffed at the odd end and flinched at the offending smell. 

"Shit, did you grab something to light it with?" Kiryu said when he finally realized that they had no way to actually smoke them. Nishiki waved him off. Kiryu noticed that he had already placed the cigarette between his lips, and he copied him. 

"Yeah of course, I'm not stupid." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a suspiciously familiar lighter. 

"Wait... that's-- Akira! Kazama-san’s already going to be pissed off when he finds that his smokes are missing, but you stole his lighter too?!" Nishiki shrugged, already flicking his thumb against the gear to try and light it. 

"Everyone else lights his cigarettes for him, he won't notice." He finally got the thing to spark hard enough that it lit, and he quickly moved the flame over to the tip of his cigarette. Kiryu watched as the fire slowly caught on the paper, and smoke began to plume at the end. He then reached over and brought the lighter closer to Kiryu. He leaned forwards and aimed the tip at the flame. He went cross eyed trying to get a glimpse of it as it lit up.

Nishiki shoved the lighter back into his pocket and took his first smooth drag from his cig, so Kiryu tried to follow suit. When he huffed the smoke in, he immediately began to choke. The taste was downright offensive, and his throat and lungs burned furiously. After trying to stifle his cough, he looked back up and saw that Nishiki seemed totally unaffected and blew his puff out with no problem. He furrowed his brows. 

"Have you done this before?" Kiryu asked, still gasping. 

"What? No!" Nishiki held the cigarette between his index and middle finger and gestured with it with mock experience, "I'm just cooler than you Kazuma." He added smugly. He took another drag, and this time Kiryu took notice that he had to stifle a cough. He smirked, but didn't point it out. 

They sat there for a while, quietly nursing their cigarettes, stifling coughs and chokes and accidently burning their nostrils as they let the smoke go through the wrong pipes. Their hearts pounded heavy in their chests and adrenaline pumped through their veins, knowing what they were doing was against so many rules and if they were caught they probably wouldn't be allowed outside of the orphanage for a week. But that was the appeal of it, wasn't it? The thrill.

As Kiryu kept smoking, a feeling of nausea fell over him. People always talked about how cigarettes were calming, and he thought that the more and more he inhaled the more relaxed he would get. Instead it was the opposite. He felt sick to his stomach and everything burned. He had no idea why adults smoked so often. All it seemed to do was hurt. He couldn't even finish his cigarette before he stubbed it out on the ground. 

"What's wrong?" Nishiki asked, Kiryu looked up at him pale faced and big eyed. 

"I feel sick, ototo-kun." He said honestly. He felt like he was going to throw up. Nishiki gave him a look of concern. 

"You wanna go inside?" Kiryu quickly nodded. Nishiki stubbed his cigarette on the side of the building and left a petty burn mark against the siding, a reminder of what they did here, then grabbed Kiryu and led him by the arm back into the building. They tip-toed their way back to their room, and Kiryu curled up on his bed with the sickening taste of tobacco and nicotine sinking in his stomach. By the time morning came around, the sickness had passed and he felt much better, but they soon came to regret their decision later in the day when Kazama came to visit. 

It turns out that he had, indeed, noticed the lighter Nishiki stole was missing, and he lined all the kids up and asked for whoever stole them to come clean. When no one stepped forward, he made his rounds and after only a few seconds he figured out it was he and Nishiki just by the smell of tobacco that still clung to their breath. He forced the two of them to fess up and apologize in front of the whole orphanage (Kiryu wouldn't have been so embarrassed about it if Yumi wasn't angrily eyeing him the entire time), then he sent them off to their room and grounded them for a couple of weeks. What Kiryu remembered the most was that he was less pissed off about the smoking, and more pissed off about Nishiki stealing, and getting away with it.

About a year later, when they both had turned fifteen, they tried the same thing all over again.

It went about as well as the first time.

[rookinvestigations]

   16 Cantlan

Why does this city have so many stupid holidays and why do so many of them seem to involve tykes hurling squashy things at me when I've forgotten to check my Follow Some Weird Tradition To Mark Yourself Against Having Small Projectiles Flung At You Daily Calendar? At least the egg was on my shoe and not on my face. The kid couldn't aim for shit. When I got in to the city guard office everyoe was wearing crabapple on their lapels and looking smugly at my eggy boot and trouser leg and I remembered yet another of the ten thousand local festivals and their propensity for pranks. Ten years and I'm still trying to keep up.

We ended our day's patrol (as uneventful as most days' patrol so far – at one point I fixed a street sign that had gone crooked) somewhat unusually as Emareud insisted on buying us all dinner and try to get to know us, an impulse I can understand but that puts my shoulders about my ears. I didn't sign up to – well, I didn't sign up for any of this but having people in my business asking me to explain myself and make a neat and comprehensible portrait for others isn't something I'm good at or particularly interested in. Still, having a proper meal at a nice inn is nothing to sneeze at, I just worry about where I'm expected to pay it back in future. For a moment it felt like the sort of loud family dinners that people have, all talking over each other and someone trying to make the whole table laugh, but I don't know any of these people and am not sure which direction it is that I'm cocking things up. I bristled when Emareud tried to drag me into conversation and I still don't know if that was the response I ought to have had, someone trying to get me to roll over and show my belly, or the thing Mrs MacGruan is always shouting at me for, biting every hand that tries to stroke me (since she mostly talks in metaphors about nursing wounded bats back to health). Everyone seems to be relaxing into this thing that is our lives now and will be for quite some time and I don't know if they're better at adapting than I am or just naive as fuck and ready to go along with whoever snaps a finger and thumb at them. I don't know what I'm playing into by complying or what I'm wrecking or missing by not being able to comply neatly and easily as the rest of our lot seem to be. Montcalm gave us a pretty speech on trusting each other and being trustworthy and I can't make out whether or not it's propaganda or not. So far I haven't caught the bastard in a lie (believe me, I've tried) and his record-keeping seems reasonably above-board but I still don't trust him. No one is that unruffled. I do wonder which way he's leaning, keeping tabs on that fox-masked vigilante but somewhat... vague tabs. Maybe he hasn't found anything concrete. I don't know if I want him to – I don't know anybody's motivations or long games here and if someone is kicking people in the nuts when the city can't I'd rahter like to shake his hand, but if he's just a melodramatic violence junkie looking for targets no one will bother about too much things could get dicey eventually. Still, I'd like to know what Montcalm's intentions are here, and what moves he's getting in place to make.

   17 Cantlan

Of course Mrs MacGruan knows MacOlly. Who hasn't Mrs MacGruan plied with biscuits in this neighbourhood? Her judgement isn't usually off, so “stop hissing,” she's going to say for the thousandth time. Still we're about to have tea all together and it's going to be so tremendously awkward that I'm going to have to sneak a flask into my mug and then I'll still probably growl and say the wrong thing and work will only get weirder. I don't think MacOlly likes me much because she's tremendously friendly and I'm... not, despite Mrs MacGruan trying her best to rehabilitate me. I need to sleep for a month.

   24 Cantlan

Have started bringing my pipe on patrol because if I start smoking more packs of cigarettes a week than I already am I'm going to go broke even with my fancy new steady wages but pipe tobacco is cheap. What else am I supposed to do with my hands? Weirdly “idly playing with a knife” has not gone over well.

   28 Cantlan

While most of my clients have dried up due to word-of-mouth about my exciting new police ties it turns out I forgot to factor in the real death knell for my office, “working a full time job and falling asleep before you've even got your boots off most days”. I don't have the heart to scrape the sign off my door yet. Once a week or so someone's come by or left a note while I've been patrolling but it's mostly been a few hours of a security gig or a kid who hadn't come home last night (he'd gotten hideously drunk and didn't want his mother to know – the usual) but even then they've been... wary about giving me the wrong details, as if I'd turn them in for nicking food or living too many to a room. And they're getting less frequent, even if I manage to stumble awake into the front room to a knock. I wish I could burn that damn guard sash. I'm not doing any good wandering in circles around the city chasing pickpockets and frowning at public urination. Maybe there's some as can help in this work the way the guard ought to be but here I am walking in circles and watching yet another life I tried to make drain out of my fingers helpless to do anything about it.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Write Me A Song 3/4| Sherlock Holmes

My asks are also open for headcanon requests so go read my guidelines if you want to submit any!

Warnings: Drug use, angst 

Masterlist

Word Count: ~2.6k

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<<<Part 2               Part 4>>>

The weeks for Sherlock have gone by dreadfully slow. Rooming with Connor made it even more dreadful, however writing Veronica's song helped him hold onto his sanity. But, it also distracted him from his studies and with December approaching that also meant the semester ending which also meant exams. Today was Sunday, so while the other boys were off to religious services, Sherlock stayed back and headed to the labs to study for his chemistry.

 Alone. In. Peace.

At least that's what he thought until he entered and saw a scrawny kid with patches of scruff on his face. " 'Ello." The kid said.

"Shouldn't you be with all the other fools worshiping some invented super being?" Sherlock said bitterly.

The kid smirked "Shouldn't you?" he retorted. "Bill... Bill Wiggins. And you're the kid that everyone picks on, aren't you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes "How nice of you to point it out." He began setting up his titration equipment. "Are you in here for chemistry too?"

Bill smirked and looked at his mixture "Hmmm... you could say that." He mixed it around and poured solutions in. "Here take one of these you'll need it" he gave Sherlock a gas mask.

"Why do I think this isn't for chemistry," Sherlock said as he put the mask on and scammed over the chemicals. "Are you cooking meth?" he asked looking shocked.

Bill Wiggins nodded his head "Yup. The lab equipment here lets me make nearly perfect crystals."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and focused on his titrating. His mask kept fogging up every time he exhaled. He grew more frustrated by the second. "Shut up." Sherlock snapped.

Bill looked up confused "What?"

"I said shut up. Your thinking and it's annoying." Sherlock said pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bill smirked. "You, my friend could use some Mary Jane."

Sherlock frowned "No... I don't do drugs."

"You sure mate? It would calm your nerves. Help ya focus." Sherlock looked down and ignored Bill. "Just, ya know hit me up. Dorm 132." Bill said grinning.

Sherlock began putting his things away. Once he was finished he walked out the door and slammed it behind him. Since he couldn't study in peace he decided to go back to his room. There he was met with the constant banter of his jerk roommate. He meandered over to the library, which most people thought of as a social area much to his dismay, the constant sound of people talking and movement was driving him insane. He thought back what Bill Wiggins had offered.

Sherlock made his way to dorm 132 and knocked on the door, Bill opened the door and clouds of smoke puffed out "Aye Shezza you showed. Come in hurry." He said and pulled Sherlock in.

Sherlock frowned it smelled like skunk and the room was hazy "Shezza?" He asked. "Yeah, mate Sherlock is way too long to say. Here I'm going to pack you a fatty." Bill said grinning as he pulled out a wooden tobacco pipe then he pulled out a plastic bag of dried green and brown herb, he pulled out some buds and broke them apart and stuffed it into the tobacco pipe. It took a few minutes before he was finished packing. He pulled out a simple Bic lighter and handed it to Sherlock "I'll give you the first hit." Sherlock fumbled with the pipe and the lighter he lit the green and inhaled and coughed, well more like hacked. Bill doubled over in laughter "Try again one more." He tried again and this inhaled deeply held it, and exhaled through his nose, his heart rate slowed and the world around him began to slow down as well.

The last couple months Sherlock frequented dorm 32. Usually once in the morning and then once at night. Today, Veronica was to visit however, Sherlock was in a drug-induced haze. He was in Bill's room sharing a bowl of the marijuana. He had about an hour till she arrived for the day.

The time slowly whittled away; there were 15 minutes left. Sherlock stumbled back to his dorm and cleaned up. He brushed his teeth put in eye drops and changed his clothes. Soon he heard her knocking at the door "Come in!" Sherlock called.

Veronica let herself in "Sherlock!" I missed you!" She cried and ran at him. Sherlock failed to catch her and they fell to the ground which resulted in laughter from the both. Veronica rolled off Sherlock; they looked at each other and laughed again. "We should probably get off the floor." She said and smiled.

Sherlock groaned like a child and wrapped his arms around her "But I don't want to." He said and nuzzled his face into her chest.

Veronica laughed and smiled "Come on let's get up." She said and sat up only to be tugged down by Sherlock

"Come on Veronica cuddle with me." Sherlock whined.

Veronica arched her brow "You're acting quite strange Sherlock." She said and sat up.

Sherlock frowned "No I'm not." He said quickly.

Veronica frowned back "Yes... Yes, you are Sherlock."

"Your parents are divorcing." Sherlock quick said to diffuse the situation.

Veronica frowned "How?" She asked

"How did I know? You have gained a significant amount of weight, around 4.5 kilos if I need to be exact, mostly around your thighs and breast, which is quite alright with me, but this is a result of stress eating. You also took off the necklace your father gave you, which I could only assume is because you are upset with him. I figured it wasn't something petty." Sherlock said standing up and moving towards his desk.

Veronica stood up "So that's what you figured, huh?" she frowned " Well. you know what I figured out?" She asked

Sherlock smiled smugly and sat up "Please, Impress me."

"I can see your track marks, you're a fucking junkie." Veronica spat and stood up.

Sherlock looked shocked, he looked down at his arms and sure enough he had forgotten to roll down his sleeves there were little holes and bruises in the pit of his elbow.

Veronica had tears begin to well up in her eyes "Sherlock. How could you?" She said and buried her face in arms.

"Veronica I- I-" Sherlock couldn't lie to her; that was another effect she had on him. He couldn't lie about something like this.

"I'm sorry Sherlock but I don't think we should be together anymore." It broke her heart to say it and made her physically sick. "At least not until you're better." Veronica needed air, she needed to get out of this cramped dormitory.

Sherlock's heart broke too, he felt like he was going to vomit. He couldn't stand to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. I hope one day you realize you're throwing your life away." She said as tears welled up in her eyes as she left the room and slammed the door.

Sherlock sat and watched her leave, right now his only solace was in his needle and tourniquet.

<<<Part 2               Part 4>>>