ethan (plenty) x m!reader
cw: smoking, getting high
You didn't mean for him to find out.
The whole point was to relax, alone— no pressure, no audience, no worrying about saying or doing something dumb. Just you, a quiet night, and a soft haze to take the edge off.
But then the door creaked open, and Ethan leaned against the frame like he'd been standing there for a while.
"Dude you good?" he asked in a low voice.
You froze halfway through lighting up, the tiny flame flickering in your shaking hand. "Oh— uh. Yeah. Yeah, just— "
He raised an eyebrow, that small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. "Just?"
You sighed, setting the lighter down and putting the joint behind your ear. "Just unwinding. It's been a long week."
He stepped inside, the faint scent of his cologne trailing with him.
"You could've told me," he said, not judgmental, just his caring self. "I would've kept an eye on you."
"I don't need a babysitter," you muttered, but your voice came out a little softer than you meant to. Now pulling the joint back out from behind your ear to light it. He chuckled, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to you anyway.
"Trip sitter," he corrected. "Totally different thing."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop a small grin from forming. "You're not actually staying, are you?"
Ethan shrugged, leaning back on his hands. "Well, I wasn't planning to, but now I'm curious. Besides, someone's gotta make sure you don't start talking to the walls."
You laughed— half from nerves, half because his voice had that steady calm that always made you feel safer than you wanted to admit.
He didn't say much while you smoked, just sat nearby, scrolling on his phone, humming to himself occasionally. Eventually, the room softened around the edges. Your limbs felt heavy and warm, your thoughts slow but pleasant. The music playing in the background sounded deeper somehow, like every note was wrapping around you. You glanced over at Ethan. He was looking at you now, his phone forgotten in his lap.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.
You blinked, "Floaty." You paused. "In a good way."
He smiled, eyes gentle, "Good."
The affirmation hit you harder than you expected. It was probably the high, or maybe it was him. The way his voice seemed to anchor you. You lay back against the couch, closing your eyes and feeling the carpet under you. Feeling the world tilt, but in a soft, calm way. When you opened them again, he was closer. Not too close, but enough that you could see the freckles across his face in the low light.
"You're staring." he said, teasing, but his tone was warm.
You blinked again, and a laugh slipped out. "You're really pretty, you know that?"
He froze for a half second— then grinned, shaking his head. "Oh boy, there it is."
"What?" you asked, your words slower now, lazy.
"The 'you're really pretty' phase," he said, "Everyone hits it eventually."
You frowned, even though you were smiling. "No, I mean it. You're... you're actually kind of stupidly good-looking. In a nice way."
He laughed, soft but genuine, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're high as hell dude."
"Maybe," you admitted. "But it's true."
He gave you a look— feeling amusement and— something else at the same time. "You always this honest when you're high?"
You hesitated, heartbeat slowing and speeding up all at once. "Maybe not this honest."
He leaned back again, expression unreadable but not unkind. "Alright tell me something true, then."
You swallowed. The room suddenly felt too small, noticing the uncomfortable feeling of how dry your mouth was, "You sure?"
You fiddled with the hem of your jacket's sleeve, trying to steady your breathing. Telling yourself to just fuck it. "Okay. Something true... hmm," You looked at him again.
"I like you."
He blinked. "Like, like me?"
"Like like," you repeated, laughing at how dumb it sounded. "God that's so elementary school, I didn't mean to say that."
He was quiet for a long second - long enough that you started to regret even opening your mouth. Ethan tilted his head, "You didn't mean to say it, or you didn't mean it?"
You mouth opened, then closed again. "I — both? I mean, no. I meant it, I just..." You groaned, burying your face into your palms. "This is so embarrassing."
You felt his hand on your shoulder - steady and grounding. "Hey," he said gently. "Breathe."
You looked up, HIs expression wasn't teasing anymore. It was careful. Thoughtful. "You didn't mess anything up," he said, "You just said something honest, it happens to everyone eventually."
You tried to laugh, but it came out small. "You're taking this really well."
He smiled. "That's cause I've kind of been waiting for you to say it."
Your eyes widened slightly, sitting up straighter than before. "Wait— what?"
He shrugged, casual but not careless. "You think I hang around watching you zone out because I'm bored?"
You gaped at him and he laughed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Relax - you're okay."
"So— you like me, too?" You asked, voice slightly above a whisper, half confused.
The words hung there between you, gentle and solid, not forced or rushed, only true. You let out a shaky breath, "I'm glad you stayed, then."
"I told you, someone's gotta watch out for you."
You leaned your head back against the couch, smiling into the quiet. He didn't move away— just sat there, his shoulder brushing against yours, the warmth of him sobering you up more than anything else could.
"Hey," you murmured after a while. "Can I tell you one more true thing?"
He turned to look at you. "Yeah?"
"You're even prettier up close," you said, giving him a soft smile. He rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath.
"God, you're going to be insufferable when you sober up."
But he didn't move when you leaned a little closer.
