jared !
jared tosses a smile over his shoulder at the other man as he wanders away, yawning, taking the opportunity to stretch his arms and twist at the waist, waking up his body a bit. he listens as the other speaks, glances at him when he denies the drink with some surprise, but there’s nothing but approval and respect in his eyes when they meet ian’s before he laughs a little to himself. ( self control – sexy. ) “thanks, man.” he says. “‘cause i definitely need a beer – like, i just got off a ten hour shift, babe, i’m gonna have a drink.” he chuckles and disappears into the attached kitchen, grabbing himself a bottle of his favorite bougie ipa before returning to the living room. “you more of a tv or a movie guy?” he asks before he’s leaning into the other’s space briefly to grab the pipe and take his own hit, crawling into the arm chair and getting comfortable before leaning forward to grab the controller for his switch. “we can watch somethin’ till you’re stoned enough to shower and sleep at a stranger’s house – i do need to dip out and put on pajamas in a minute though – you gonna be cool in here by yourself for like fifteen minutes?” he’s making fun of himself for asking, but it’s what dan would have done in his position! and dan always knew how to take care of people. ( he just wants to do something good for once. )
he has to admit, it’s quite UNUSUAL for him to deny something like a drink, especially on a day where he’s coming to terms with his life. something that had always stressed him out -- the reality of what he had inflicted upon himself, and how his family treated him, the way the emotions associated with wash over him, leaving him a distressed mess. sometimes it made him sick. even fiona had a rough streak -- she was rarely all SUNSHINE AND LAUGHTER. he wonders if she had ever been, and feels the thought weigh on him. he decides it’s too hard to imagine, and leaves the scenario at that.
but regardless of circumstance, he could tell him and lip fell into a specific pattern -- dependent on alcohol and cigarettes as a mean to survive with emotional trauma. sometimes these dependencies would MORPH and transform into something far more dangerous. the dependencies would switch from time to time ; when alcohol and weed was far from enough, he turned to pill-popping, psychedelics, and occasionally the harder shit -- coke, meth, you name it. sometimes he didn’t care what it was what he was taking, or if he’d fucking DIE from it. he just wanted an escape ; even if it only brought him death.
but FUCK, he really couldn’t think of that right now. not when he was trying to cope in better ways. so, he takes another hint off the blunt, and looks up as he’s asked a question -- suddenly distracted. ian contemplates for a moment. “ movies. definitely movies. ” but at the offer of showering and staying the night, he can’t help a faint blush that moved to stain his freckled cheeks. it wasn’t a BAD proposition -- just an intimidating one. he didn’t usually stay the night with people he wasn’t fucking, nor did he fuck someone if he wasn’t getting paid -- not unless it was mickey or someone else he loved with an undying passion. he stared down at his shoes, and kicked them off.
after a while, he responded. “ yeah, ” he eventually says, his shoulder bumping into his new friend. “ that sounds good, actually. ”
