#finnesto

Finn is smoking in Ernie's room. The window isn't open either, and he doesn't say it now but he knows the smell will cling to everything Ernesto owns for weeks, probably. Especially his hideous shag carpet.

The blunt is nearly finished, heat wickering the edges into small, ashy ferns. Ernesto sits stiffly on the bed next to him, trying to breathe in as little as possible. It's cute, how much of a stickler Ernie is for being sober.

"Hey, 'nesto." Finn purrs, sloping to the side and tracing a small pattern down the other boys arm. He shudders. "Hold this for me, huh?"

Finn ignores the small spark of electricity he feels when his fingers brush Ernesto's to give him the blunt. It burns his knuckle a bit, but Finn grabs him before he can flinch away.

"I've told you, Finn. I don't want to smoke." Ernesto ducks his head, mumbling through a mouthful of second hand smoke. Finn does not laugh, nor does he tell Ernie that he has been hotboxing Finn's exhaled smoke this whole time.

"No, dude. I just want you to put it out." Slowly, so as to not spook him, Finn guides Ernie's hand to hover above his exposed thigh, already littered with old and new marks alike. A small sprinkle of red plant matter falls onto his leg and singes what's left of the hair there.

"Wha- on your leg?" Ernesto looks up at him, face twisted in horror. But he makes no move to pull away, no move to protest. Finn thinks he wants to do this. His own personal revenge for all the shit Finn has put him through.

"Yeah, Ernie. C'mon, don't be a prude."

"I- I dunno, Finn. Doesn't it hurt?"

Finn snorts. "That's the point. Don't tell me you're gonna back out."

Something shutters behind Ernesto's eyes and before Finn can open his mouth to protest again, he drives the lit end of the blunt into the soft meat of Finn's thigh. He pushes it in deep, far deeper than Finn ever could've done on his own. A curl of smoke floats upwards, complemented by the sizzle of hair and skin.

"Fuckkk." Finn groans, eyes pinched shut in pain and bliss. "Fuck, that's good."

Ernesto doesn't say anything, but his hands shake as he mashes what's left of the joint into the new wound. It stings horribly, and right before Finn greens out from the overwhelming sensations, he thinks he hears a muffled cry.

No. He hears a muffled laugh.