Work Text:
It’s been a week since Lovro last smoked. The days pass fairly painlessly. The desire is there, sure, but he has Ivan there to distract him. He just looks at his boyfriend and suddenly there’s nothing he wants less than to torture him by smoking in front of him when he knows he can’t partake. Jakov can tempt him all he wants, Lovro is the picture of fortitude.
Nights, however, are a different story. A smoke before bed has been a consistent ritual for almost three years now, and going without it has been a trip. It takes him forever to sleep, and when he does finally drift away he’s vexed by vivid dreams, all messy and incoherent.
That’s why tonight, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he’s wide awake in Ivan’s bed, watching his boyfriend deep in slumber. It’s nice to see his face so at peace. He looks younger like this, more innocent. He admires his long eyelashes, the line of his nose, his soft lips. He resists the urge to kiss him awake. God knows he needs his sleep. Lovro knows he should rest too, but something in his brain just won’t settle down.
After what feels like hours, he reaches the end of his patience. He slips out of bed as carefully as he can, and tiptoes to fetch his jacket, careful not to wake Ivan. He steals Ivan’s slippers, noting that they’re much lamer than his shark ones, and sneaks out onto the terrace.
The crisp night air fills his lungs, already easing the tension in his body. He rustles through his pockets, locating his lighter and his last joint left from before he quit. He’s been keeping it on him for ‘emergencies,’ although he’s not quite sure what emergency could possibly be solved with a joint. Sleeplessness is reason enough for him.
He puts the joint between his lips and lights it, pulling in a slow hit. The easy way the smoke moves into his lungs puts him instantly at ease, clears his mind, whisks all that ails him away.
————————————————————
Ivan stirs in the night with a chill. He must have set the fan too high. If he’s cold, Lovro must be freezing. He throws his arm over to pull him closer, but he only finds empty sheets. He sits up, blinking his bleary eyes and focusing them in the dark. Lovro’s gone, leaving just a purple-stained pillow behind.
Ivan ignores the instant pang of worry in his chest. He’s probably just gone for water or to use the bathroom or something. He scans the room and notices Lovro’s jacket missing as well.
Ivan’s on his feet now, singularly focused on finding him. He goes to grab his slippers, but they’re not where he left them. Strange. He looks around to no avail, but does notice Lovro’s phone still sat on the bedside table.
So, he’s stepped out with a jacket and slippers but no phone.
Ah.
Ivan throws on his own jacket and heads for the terrace. The moment he steps out, he locks eyes with Lovro who freezes with the lighter held up to a joint in his mouth. His expression is nothing short of mortified guilt, but Ivan just laughs softly.
“Sneaking out on me, huh?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” Lovro replies, rushing to snuff out the joint.
“No, no, don’t stop on my account. Enjoy your smoke,” Ivan says, coming behind Lovro and winding his arms around his waist, resting his tired head on his shoulder. “Smells so good.”
Lovro takes another hit and blows it just in front of Ivan. He feels him inhaling deeply against his back and smiles.
“You miss it?”
“Yes, terribly. But just the smell is nice too.”
“Good, because you’re not getting a hit.”
Ivan pulls away, faking indignation. Lovro just smiles and blows smoke directly in his face. Ivan pretends not to be flustered.
“First you steal my slippers, force me to be barefoot on my own terrace, and now you won’t even share?”
“Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you have a taste,” Lovro says with a glint in his pretty blue eyes.
“A taste? How do you mean?”
Lovro takes a pull, maintaining eye contact, then pulls Ivan’s collar to connect their lips. He blows slowly into Ivan’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying the way Ivan shivers into the kiss. He pulls away, allowing Ivan to exhale into the night air.
“Fuck, that was hot.”
Ivan’s face is flushed pink. Lovro laughs at the blissed out look in his eyes.
“Do it again,” Ivan practically whines.
“Okay fine, just one more, then we need to sleep.”
Lovro pulls a long, slow hit and kisses Ivan again, passing the smoke into his waiting mouth. Ivan breathes it in like he’s starving and deepens the kiss, letting the smoke pass out of his nose while his mouth is otherwise occupied.
Lovro pulls away to snuff out the joint and slip the remainder back into his wallet. Ivan keeps kissing his cheek, his jaw, down to his neck.
“Come on, loverboy, time for bed,” Lovro says, shepherding his clingy boyfriend back inside. He kicks off Ivan’s slippers, and they both drop their jackets on the floor, too tired to hang them.
Lovro flops into Ivan’s bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Ivan follows suit, sliding up beside him under the covers. He kisses Lovro’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips before pulling him into his usual spot against Ivan’s chest. They both drift off, finally, into dreamless sleep.