#rami40

– of course. of Course when you're so stoned you can barely move, you hear noises inside the museum.

– first you think it's just the security guard, but that's way more than just one person's footsteps, and you know larry doesn't have any friends

– you quietly make your way back inside, the back of your throat burning since you didn't bring a water bottle (which you really should've)

– Obviously you think you're hallucinating.

– You run to the bathroom to compose yourself, sobering up and splashing your face with water. you then confront larry, who's having a drinking contest with one of the exhibits, and all is explained with a perfectly innocent explanation

– from then on you keep your smoking sessions more below the radar.

– also, from then on, you talked with historical figures who were supposed to be dead for hundreds of years but were reanimated through the power of ancient, archaic magic

– also fun

– but actually. Sacagawea? Christopher Columbus? yours to know. and torture. should you want to. colonel custer certainly earns some of your ire.

– you do make an effort to flirt with one of the exhibits though

– theres this really cute boy

– and he just gets so flustered by everything you say. its actually hilarious but also very sweet

– if you ever touch him, he gets all blushy and stutters his way through half-thought out sentences

– one evening you don't get much of a chance to freshen up after you smoke outside. ahk comes out of the museum, finds you, and you barely have time to squish the roach beneath your heel before he's standing in front of you

– he talks to you as usual, rambling slightly about his feelings like usual until he takes a deep breath and notices something in the air

– it's not that he can't know about your smoking habits. it's just. he's a pharaoh. you're not sure how well he's going to understand the concept of getting high

- "Do you smell that?"

- "... smell what?"

- "Burning... something. It smells familiar. Like an herb."

- your eyes widened and in a split second you remembered being a young stoner, looking up the history of marijuana to better understand the laws around it (turns out its mostly racism but whatever)

- egyptians had weed. it was found on mummies.

- for the life of you, you can't remember what they used it for though

- "You might be smelling my joint," you say very quietly.

- "Your what?"

- "Joint. It's something you smoke."

- "Like a pipe?"

- "... something like that," you say. "I'll bring one tomorrow."

- tomorrow comes and you stay true to your word

– when you light it up, puffing until smoke runs in and out of your lungs -

- the prince watches you with wide eyes, his golden clothes reflecting the dismal lighting of the streetlamps.

- "I know what that is!" he says suddenly, nearly jumping with excitement. "shemshemet!"

- it takes a second but you get him to explain what he means. turns out he's right – that's what his language calls weed. shemshemet. and he looks fucking delighted when he finds out.

- "Why are you smiling like that?" You ask, but his smile has you instinctively laughing

- "I smoked this all the time with one of my friends, back in Egypt. Let me!"

- he reaches for the joint, you put your hand over his face, pushing him back as you laugh

- "Careful with it!" you warn him. "Smoking this is a little different than your pipes."

- he coughs. a lot.

- you educate him on how a rolled joint works, and in the end you're both incredibly high from practicing so much. it makes an interesting story for when you go back inside looking blazed as you feel

- eventually it gets to the point that you realize he knows perfectly well how to smoke, he's pretending like he doesn't.

- he's just trying to get you to move closer to him. when you help him, you touch him, instructing him how to hold it so it doesn't burn him, how to inhale and how to use his lips

- This'll shut him up, you think

- "If you're really having this much trouble with it, I'll shotgun you," you say with an 'exasperated' sigh

- "What's that?"

- oh, he's so cute when he doesn't know what the hell's going on

- you take a long drag, set the joint aside, grab the back of his head and pull him in.

- since you can't speak proper, your hand moves to his face, thumb prying at his lips till he opens his mouth

- there you hook your thumb into his jaw, pushing on his tongue and pulling him forward till your lips just barely meet and you can blow the smoke into his mouth

- his knees physically buckle. you have to catch him from falling and nearly none of the smoke actually makes it into his lungs but you're laughing way too hard to care

- he's really just adorable, isn't he?

- "You are welcome to do that any time," he says.