#javadi

she nods, tries to settle herself, then takes it from you.

'we've gone out before; i've made sure you stayed safe.'

'but this is… drugs.' she whispers the word, which is so uncool even dennis laughs. 'and also, mel and samira handled things that one time you got really drunk after garcia—'

'crash,' you say, 'you're wasting the weed.'

'fine,' victoria says, then pulls on the joint. she tries so hard to actually hold the smoke but she ends up coughing hard. 'oh my god,' she chokes out, holding the joint up in the air for you to take.

'i smoked better than that at, like, fourteen, but good first go.' you take another hit, close your eyes for a moment, and then hand it to dennis. 'better than huckleberry. he coughed so hard i thought he was going to throw up.'

dennis rolls his eyes and takes a drag, this time not coughing at all.

'but look at him now. a pro.'

he passes it to victoria. 'you'll get the hang of it.'

'plus,' you add, 'this is nice flower. it'll be a chill body high. you probably won't feel anxious at all.'

'probably?'

'once again, crash, you're wasting the weed.'

'just pull slowly,' dennis says, and, to her credit, victoria does do much better this time. she still coughs but it's not violent, and she's able to actually keep some smoke in.

you all take another hit and conversation drifts: to work, to the guy dennis has been texting with that he met at the fucking feed store, to a brief stint about geopolitics before you all decide it's too fucking depressing and scary to talk about high.

victoria bows out after that, but her eyes are red and heavy and she's leaning over unevenly to one side, so that's probably a good idea. dennis waves you off when you offer him more and so you finish the joint yourself. none of you have work tomorrow, so it's an ideal night. it's even getting warm, finally, so you can be in shorts and a hoodie rather than all bundled up outside.

'alright,' you say, letting dennis help you up without even having to ask him first, a small dignity, 'there's snacks and snatch game calling our names. let's go.'

you actually are a kind person, and you also don't want victoria to eat shit onto your bedroom floor, so you help her through the window. she pauses when you steady her to look at you very sincerely, and then she gives you a hug. there's no use in rolling your eyes or fighting it, and, whatever, physical touch is comforting sometimes, so you wrap your arms around her too.

'thank you,' she says, quiet and sincere.

you hum, and she sighs, then backs up. 'for what, though?'

she shrugs. 'seeing me as a person and not just my parents' daughter? i don't know. even if you're kind of mean about it.'

you're genuinely touched. 'oh.' you nod. 'well, it's my duty to bully everyone into being cool. big sister credentials and all that.'

'you're a good big sister,' victoria says, and you fiddle with your hoodie strings so you don't start to cry.

you're saved when dennis annouces, 'pizza's here!' from the living room. still, you squeeze her shoulder once before you head out.

you make sure to steal a slice of pizza out of dennis' hand, and you have victoria toss the ceasar salad and put the bags of chips she brought into bowls and bring everything, including the brookies dennis had gotten shockingly good at making, over to the coffee table, and you queue up the episode.

mel texts the group chat to see how victoria is doing, and samira says she's trying to get off from shift on time so she can come over if you're all still awake.

it's literally only 7 pm, we will still be awake in an hour or two lmfao, you send.

YOU might, you watch victoria type out, but i can't wait to go to sleep

baby's first joint, you respond to many heart and laughter reactions.

do it, samira says, santos' bed is nice anyway. always smells good

victoria's jaw drops; dennis just laughs.

GO BACK TO WORK, you respond, and mel sends a bunch of crying laughing emojis.

'trinity—'

'—you are not on a first name basis with me right now—'

victoria grins. 'if we have wine, will you tell me everything?'

'oh my god, you're talking over the show.'

'you have every word katya says in this episode memorized,' dennis rats you out.

you sigh. 'fine. it's just been, like, three times. it's not—'

'—do not say casual,' dennis says.

'i can evict you whenever i want, you know.'

victoria is absolutely delighted—'i knew it!'—and dennis looks way too smug.

'get the fucking wine, crash,' you say. she scrambles up, trips over the blanket and just barely catches herself. 'be more careful than that when you have a bunch of glass in your hands,' you say at the same time as dennis asks, 'you got it?'

victoria nods and comes back—safely—with three stemless wine glasses and a bottle of skin contact wine.

'this is the best day of my life,' she says in a toast.

'you're just high.'

'happy 4/20 to me!'

you can't help yourself; you smile. you eventually facetime mel, who you had invited but the smell gives her a headache—brunch tomorrow, you'd happily decided as a follow up.

samira texts you privately, hey, sorry. it's busy and i was being silly and i didn't mean to, you know… and then, rapidly, actually, i kinda did. i'm really sorry because i know you value your privacy and getting to tell people things when you feel ready. but you should know that i like you and i don't want to sneak around

you thank god for the amount of weed you'd consumed already because that's the only reason you're not showing it to dennis and giggling right now.

yeah, you type, thanks for acknowledging that. your therapist would be so proud. but it's ok. whitaker and mel know. crash is annoying as hell regardless

you invited her over, samira responds.

yeah bc otherwise she's just going to be at her parents' house stone cold sober on the best day of the year. that's too pathetic for me to allow

samira responds with, lmfaooo you're actually nice tho. crazy

🙄 whatever, you text. and ig for the record i like you too. i don't want to sneak around either

'earth to trinity,' dennis says. you put your phone away, probably too quickly because they both look at you with matching grins.

'shut the fuck up and watch the show,' you say. it's a shame no one is scared of you anymore, honestly. you've lost your touch. 'it's homophobic if you don't.'

'oh my god,' dennis grumbles, rolling his eyes, and victoria just laughs.

you wait a very respectable three minutes before you glance at your phone again. samira has hearted the message and texted, i'll be over in 20

your brain screams at you that it's stupid to let people in like this, it's reckless and it will only hurt you more than you've ever been hurt before, it'll hurt you so much that you'll actually die this time. but you lock the fuck in—that's what you tell your therapist when she says "grounding"—and pay attention to the soft rug against your feet. dennis' knee shoved into your thigh while he explains katya and trixie's podcast to victoria, the easy sting of the wine on your tongue.

'samira is coming.'

'yeah, i bet she will be,' victoria says, dead serious, and you and dennis are both silent for a moment before you can't help but burst out into laughter.

he gives her a high five while you lean over him and shove her. you corral both of them—you threaten to not share the brookies—into turning back to the tv eventually. samira buzzes a few minutes later and you get up to let her in. she looks exhausted when she comes out of the elevator and then down the hall, still in her scrubs, but she's let her hair down how you like it the best and your heart does a stupid fucking flutter in your chest.

'hi,' you say.

'hi.'

you're just in the threshhold, which you're high enough to think might mean something: a moment to cross over, a welcoming, a becoming—something new; home.

dennis and victoria can definitely see both of you and are not being subtle about it, peering over the edge of the couch, but samira looks so tired and so beautiful.

it's easy to kiss her, right there in the open, without any expectation of more. she smiles into it and kisses you back.

'hi,' she whispers.

'hi again.'

you decide dennis is cut off for the night because he starts cheering, which leads to victoria also cheering, which leads to you flipping them off but samira is blushing and she's so pretty you honestly don't actually give a fuck. dennis tried to sneak a boy out the other morning before work and then scuttled around all day so you couldn't interrogate him, so whatever.

you lead samira to your room while dennis and victoria excitedly chatter on and on. she lets you take her scrubs off, then her bra, and you kiss her once more. none of it is sexual—you're crossfaded and she's too tired to want to do anything—but it is intimate, sweet, younger than you've felt in a really long time.

'i didn't bring pajamas,' she says. 'sorry.'

'why are you apologizing? i love seeing you in my clothes.'

her smile is gentle, a little giddy. she puts on a pair of sweatpants and a soft green baby tee, one you know she likes because she's stollen it before. you get another joint from your tin and hold it up, then open your window and help her out after she nods with a quiet thank god.

you pass it back and forth; she tells you about her day, about how her talk with her mom went last night—tentative steps that you'll never get to have but she should try to; she asks about your pain since you were sore the other day.

it's not as impossible as you'd feared, a year and a half ago, to lean into her while it's quiet and the city rumbles away, hushed, beneath you. dennis and victoria are talking loudly enough that their voices float out, happy.

'i wanna say it in person,' she says, soft and, in that moment, where you steel yourself for something bad, even though you know the drop isn't coming, she's bathed in the city lights and pretty much everything.

you nod.

she cups your jaw in her palm. 'i like you.'

your head swims. you close your eyes because otherwise you're going to cry. 'okay,' you croak, and she laughs—not unkindly, and gently, and she wipes your tears with her thumbs when you just let yourself cry. 'i like you too.'

she laces your fingers together and just lets you rest in it until you straighten. 'they've been unattended for too long.'

samira understands; it's grown, over time, but you're not as dissimilar as you once thought. 'how's your first 4/20, victoria?' she asks once she's helped you back inside. you kick victoria off the couch and onto the floor so you can sit next to samira. she whines about how come whitaker gets to stay on the couch and you just shrug.

'i've earned it,' dennis says, and samira laughs.