warnings: reader is WASTED, totally sfw, house party, reader and sam go to the same school so either high school or college or whatever interpret as you will, mentions of weed, booze, cigarettes, referring to weed as devil's lettuce once cause it felt repetitive, sam monroe is a KING who walks drunk people home safely, fake relationship to avoid a guy at the beginning. also reader is wasted so nothing physical happens between you and Sam (again boundary respecting KING)
summary: Sam expected to leave Josh's party with weed, and maybe a phone number if he was really lucky - which he usually wasn't - not a whole new addiction to something sweeter and better than any high he's had.
song recs: can we dance - the vamps, rose's fountain - steven universe score, lover's spit - broken social scene
an: she's a shawty but real good imo!!! trying to remind myself that length matters WAY less than quality and spoon usage. also I included the mv for can we dance because it's a true classic and it would be an irresponsible use of my platform to not put yall on to this work of art. also also title is from steven universe s1e24 <3
Sam is only at this stupid fucking party to buy weed from Josh. And you were just looking for someone to scare off the guy who’s been trying to get in your pants all night.
“You sure you don’t want to stick around for a while?” Josh offers, only half sarcastically. Sam doesn’t even seem to consider it.
“...No. I’m good.”
With a baggie full of devil’s lettuce in his pocket, he starts to make his way out. He navigates the sea of bodies dancing and laughing obnoxiously, dodging two people who have decided to forgo grinding on the dance floor for dry humping in the hallway. The door in his sights when he feels someone slam into him. He looks down and sees your eyes, a little hazy from some shitty mixed drinks being served in the kitchen. Your hands are gripping the mesh of the fishnet tank top he has layered over his shirt and his heart practically jumps out of his fucking chest.
“Oh! There you are, babe!” You slur out, your voice tipsy and performative. Sam glances over your shoulder and sees some douchebag from school glaring daggers at him. He looks back down at you.
You give him the cutest, most obvious wink, thinking you’re being totally subtle.
He almost laughs.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere…” you continue, nodding your head back and giving him a few more very heavy handed winks.
He almost laughs.
“Yeah. Uh… let’s get you home now.” He says, eyes flicking back to the guy before landing on yours. “...Baby.”
He guides you out of the party, keeping an arm protectively around your shoulders as he slips the both of you out of the noise and bodies and booze like a shadow, and all he can think is thank fuck it’s dark enough that you can’t see him blush.
He walks you away from Josh’s place until you’re comfortably out of sight, then reaches into his pocket with his free hand. He pulls out a lighter and a half empty pack of cigarettes. He makes a mental note to get more soon, but it’s interrupted by the sound of your voice.
“Um- thank you so much f’that back there…” you slur, still smelling like Hawaiian punch and vodka.
“Don’t worry about it.” Sam replies, unsure of what to say.
“That guy back there, he’s jus’- he-” you look up at him with an intense look as you prepare to unload some major gossip on him. “You can not tell anyone I told you this.”
Sam nods as he lights up a cigarette. He doesn’t even know your name, so it would actually be pretty hard to tell anyone about this. He doubts anyone would believe him anyway.
He nearly drops his lighter when he feels your hand grab his bicep as you start rambling, drunkenly gossiping to him about the most secret and private inner workings of your friend group and their love lives. He exhales another plume of smoke and you nearly trip over your own feet again. You let out a giggle that almost makes him laugh too, then reach out with your free hand like you want to take a drag too.
“You smoke?” He asks a little skeptically.
“Totally.” You state, not very convincingly. “I- I smoke like a fish.”
This time he does laugh.
“Or like, a house. Or whatever. Jus- gimme.” You conclude.
He watches with amusement as you take a drag from what is very clearly your first cigarette. He laughs again as you hand it back to him, coughing for a moment.
“Smooth.” You lie. “Very… very nice. Very European.”
“Very.” He agrees, unsure of what else to say.
Well, at least the nicotine seems to be sobering you up a little-
His train of thought is interrupted the moment he brings the cigarette back up to his lips. He freezes in place, letting out a soft grunt. His eyes practically roll back as an indescribably delicious taste explodes on his tongue, overwhelming his senses. His heart is pounding in his chest. He doesn’t even bother taking a draw, he just keeps it between his lips, on his tongue until it nearly burns him.
He feels like he’s losing a part of himself when the butt falls onto the sidewalk, waiting to be extinguished.
“Hey- c’n I crash at your place tonight?” You plead, giving him your best puppydog look. “My parents are gonna kill me if I come home like this. I- I’m not drunk, ‘m jus’ a little… like… tipsy.”
Sam knows whatever heat he gets from his parents from bringing home and hiding a drunk stranger from school - especially one as drop dead gorgeous as you are - won’t matter at all to him, but he can’t stomach the idea of you getting in trouble even a little.
He reaches for another cigarette, holding it between his fingers.
“Yeah. Sure. Just… do something for me first.”
He stops, and you do too. You turn to him. He brings the unlit cigarette up to your lips, placing it in your mouth and watching your lips wrap around it. He takes his time, watching you closely as you squirm a little under his gaze. You let out a little giggle and he takes the cigarette back, bringing it into his mouth, past his lips from yours in an indirect kiss.
“That’s it?” You ask, amused and a little disbelieving.
He swallows thickly, almost dizzy from the heady taste that floods his system, genuinely better than any high he’s ever had or chased before. He nods.
“Yeah.” His voice is rough, his words mumbled around the cigarette he holds in his mouth. “That’s it. Come on.”
You giggle, clinging onto him as he guides you across the street, watching for traffic and making sure you don’t trip. You’re so preoccupied - and if we’re being honest, still totally wasted - that you don’t even notice he never bothers lighting up.
