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"The Not-So-Glamorous Things"

by K.M. Hirosaki (kmhirosaki@hotmail,com)

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is copyright © 2019 K.M. Hirosaki

November

Even with a heavy comforter and his own fur, Wil is cold. He doesn't know what time it is beyond 'too early,' his face still buried within the nest of blankets and pillows created by a night's tossing and turning. The skunk grumbles, his mind still shedding the fog of sleep, threads of an already forgotten dream still clinging to his begrudging senses. He fears poking his head out to see his alarm clock. Surely it cannot be time for work yet.

The skunk's nose then twitches. It's something so almost-familiar, something that he should have a name for, but he's waking too slowly to find that word just yet. A moment later, confusion sets in. He's identified the scent now--his roommate must be smoking weed. But why would he--

Wil flails his arms as he extricates himself from the tangle of fluffy bedsheets, forgetting the chill of the air until it hits his exposed body. He clamps a paw down onto the alarm clock atop his nightstand, positioning it so that his bleary eyes can focus and make out the numbers. It's just after eight o'clock in the morning; his alarm should have gone off over an hour ago. And the smell outside the door--

Before panic at being late for work can finish setting in, the skunk remembers that it's Saturday. Relief suffuses his keyed-up body, the tingle of nascent anxiety dying in the warmth of realizing he can tug those covers right back over his head and go back to napping. He begins to do just that, but the smell--

Yes, the smell of marijuana is unmistakable now. Again, Wil checks the clock at his bedside to make sure he didn't misread it earlier. There are three other people in the house, but only one of them smokes weed regularly, but he never smokes indoors and he's never awake this early on the weekends. Now more curious than either confused or annoyed, Wil drags himself out of bed to go take a look. He grabs the same pair of boxers he'd worn last night from their spot on the floor by his bed and hikes them up before nabbing a random shirt out of his laundry hamper and tugging it down over his head and past his paunch.

First, Wil pokes his head out into the hallway. He looks to the right, seeing that the doors to both Raven's and Terry's rooms are still closed; not quite directly across the hall is the upstairs bathroom, visibly unoccupied; to the left is the door to Hikaru's room, swung partway inward, sunlight spilling onto the brown carpeting of the hallway floor. This is where the smell of marijuana is coming from.

The skunk trundles slowly down the hall and peeks into his roommate's bedroom, a faint breeze wafting across the fur of his face, carrying with it a stronger whiff of that weed. Hikaru is sitting on the roof outside the window smoking a joint; his window is open just a crack. The arctic fox is wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with the logo of some band that Wil can't make out from this angle.

As if sensing eyes on him, Hikaru turns and looks back through the window at Wil, holding up his free paw in a wave before slipping his fingers in through the gap between the window and the frame. The heavy pane slides open sideways with a one-armed tug, and the fox sticks his head through. "Hey man, come on out," he calls.

Somewhat hesitant, Wil pads across the floor of Hikaru's room, stepping around discarded t-shirts and socks and underwear and--wait. "Uh, let me go back to my room and grab some pants or something first."

"Dude, it's like..." Hikaru picks his phone up from the rooftop. "Eight in the morning. And we're up on the roof. No one's gonna see you." He takes a drag from his joint, angles his muzzle back, and exhales a slow and steady plume of smoke.

Wil wants to protest. He barely wants to be intruding in his roommate's personal space in the first place, but he also doesn't want Hikaru to think he's a weirdo or a loser or a prude or anything. So, the skunk fights back his anxiousness over being around one of his roommates in his underwear and makes his way over to the windowsill. Partway through climbing out, he stops. "Is, uh, the roof gonna support my weight?"

"It's a roof, dude." Hikaru cracks a big, fang-filled smile. "Have you never seen roofers at work? Like you're pudgy but you're not big enough to make a roof collapse." The arctic fox turns his gaze to the skunk's tummy. Wil is then certain, absolutely certain, that he sees the fox's eyes drift lower to linger on the bulge in his underpants.

The skunk finishes climbing out the window and clumsily sets himself down on the slanted shingles. It's weird to think that they're both sitting just above the living room of their house right now. Once the nervousness wears off, Wil realizes the view from up here is actually pretty nice, especially on a clear and quiet morning like this one.

Hikaru holds the joint out. "You want a hit?"

"Oh." Wil has only smoked weed two or three times in his life, and not in several years, at that. "Uh, nah, I'm good."

"You don't mind, then?" Hikaru brings the joint to his lips and looks at the skunk expectantly, as if to give him a chance to put the temptation away completely. Even up close now, Wil can't actually make out the stylized letters of the band logo on the fox's t-shirt. "Oh, shit," Hikaru suddenly adds, now looking past the skunk and into the room beyond. "Was my door open? Fuck, dude, I'm sorry. Did this wake you up?"

"No, no, it's fine," the skunk stammers. "I mean, yeah, your door was open, and yeah I could smell it--" He gestures vaguely at the joint. "--but like, I'm not mad. I was just worried you were smoking weed in your room or something and like the landlords would get all pissed off or like..." He lets himself trail off. Lecturing his roommate is definitely not cool, and he's not sure that's even why he came here a-sniffin' in the first place.

Hikaru simply nods. "Yeah, that's part of why I smoke out on the roof." Pausing to first take a hit, the fox then points with the paw holding his joint before exhaling. "Plus you get to relax up here all alone, but you're still like, out there taking in the world?" His intonation makes it a question, a high thought that isn't sure if it's clever or stupid. Hikaru doesn't weigh in either way. "Anyway," he concludes simply, proceeding to burn down the rest of the joint in a single, long drag before stubbing it out and flicking the tip into the rain gutter.

By happenstance, Wil's awkwardness creates a pleasantly serene silence that he and Hikaru indulge in together, the pair staring out over their run-of-the-mill suburban neighborhood from a new and different angle that makes it kind of special in a way that's hard to define.

And then the moment passes, and Hikaru heads back inside. Wil follows, and then heads back out into the upstairs hallway, saying that he needs to get ready to shower. He does, but first the skunk flops back down into bed and sticks his paw down the front of his underpants so that he can start jacking off while thinking about his other roommate Raven.

December

Seeing Raven here at the party has Wil surprised, excited, and slightly dismayed, all in that order. The skunk doesn't remember his roommate ever mentioning being friends with Peter and Quincy, the couple hosting the party, but there Raven is nevertheless. Perhaps the cat is a plus-one of one of the other invitees? Or maybe he knows the P's and Q's after all. It scarcely matters, Wil realizes.

As early as a few months ago, Wil would be a lot happier about stumbling across Raven at a party like this--the well-toned, dark-furred feline had been an infrequent but always extremely fun and rewarding hookup, especially on nights like this, but Raven has a policy about not having sex with roommates.

Living with Raven has been frustrating for Wil in that regard.

Through the sea of heads, Raven happens to turn the skunk's way, offering a wave and a smile upon seeing him. Yes, Wil accepts, he's just running into his roommate randomly at his party, which isn't terribly sexy or even particularly fun under the circumstances. It's time to quash his hopes and expectations and grab another drink from the cooler out in the garage.

He finds a cider, his fingers trembling as he pulls the bottle out of the icy water, the chill of the uninsulated garage making his wet-furred fingers sting for just a second before he heads back into the house proper. No sooner does he get two steps, however, when he runs into Mika and Jackson, a short, tawny-furred weasel and a bespectacled coyote, respectively.

"Oh hey," says Mika. "Are you heading back in? We were gonna go hang out in the garage for a bit."

Wil turns back around and pads back into the garage. His cider is a twist-off, but he uses the hem of his shirt to guard his palm just in case. As he looks around for a nearby waste bin to toss the cap into, the scent of marijuana hits his nose out of seemingly nowhere. The skunk turns and sees that Jackson has produced a joint from a translucent tube that he must have pulled from one of his pockets. "You want to get in on this?" asks Mika.

"Yeah," Jackson adds, "I hear that Hikaru's turned you into a total stoner these days."

"What? No!" Wil balks reflexively, voice spiking into a too-high register. "We just smoke up every so often is all." But the skunk realizes, as he says it, that 'every so often' has been getting more and more frequently as the weeks have gone by.

Mika's brown eyes twinkle with hope. "So is that a yes, you're in?" he asks as he takes the joint from Jackson, sparking it up with his eyes still fixed on Wil.

And so they smoke up together there in the garage. Wil is paranoid, at first, that they don't have permission for what they're doing, or at the very least that what they're doing might be gauche; after a few puffs, he's a little too in his head to ask the question aloud, and after a few more, the anxious rush he gets pretty often when getting too high too fast keeps him from asking altogether. Thanks to his increasingly frequent smoke sessions with Hikaru, though, it happens less frequently, isn't as intense, and fades more quickly.

"So hey man, I was totally gonna make a move on your roommate," the weasel says, "but I think your other roommate purposefully tried to cockblock me."

Wil blinks. "Wait, Raven?" he asks. He's pretty high, which makes trying to put the pieces together a minor ordeal. "Or Raven cockblocked you from hitting on--who were you hitting on?"

Mika giggles. "Raven," he says in a jovial squeak. "But Terry comes along and is all 'hey can I talk to you about some house stuff?' but let's just say from the look of things that I don't think 'house stuff' is what they were talking about."

The coyote that Wil has temporarily forgotten was standing off to the side makes a snort, startling the skunk with his sudden reappearance in reality. "You're telling me _you_didn't hang around within earshot to hear more, little mister sneak?" Jackson says. His voice sounds really warm and rich right now, Wil thinks.

"Oh, sure, I was _going_to," Mika replies with an impish giggle. "But then a certain coyote poked me in the side and asked me if I wanted to head out into the garage to smoke some weed." He takes a drag off of the joint, his throat twitching as he holds it, and then exhales the smoke in Jackson's direction before passing the joint along.

Wil is trying to remember what Mika would have been doing if Jackson hadn't found him. His mind scrabbles for that part of the conversation. It feels so long ago. But it can't be, can it? Like he knows they're here in the garage, smoking weed at the party (who's party? _the_party; that's fine for now). How long _has_it been since he lost track of things? Seconds? Minutes? This happens to him sometimes, getting lost in his own head, but--

"Yo. Hey. Earth to Wil." Jackson snaps his fingers in front of the skunk's face, and it's like the world itself has suddenly reappeared through the haze that passes for his mind right now. A second paw appears alongside the first, a smoldering reddish light drawing the skunk's attention. "It's to you, man."

The skunk takes hold of the joint and debates the wisdom of having more if he's already this far gone. He thinks about what Hikaru would think. Would Hikaru think he's a pansy for bowing out? Honestly, probably not. Would Jackson? The coyote's not one of Wil's super-duper close friends or anything, but he's also pretty chill, and least by coyote standards if nothing else. As for Mika, he...

Wil forgets what he was mulling over. In the meantime, he takes a couple puffs from the joint he's been handed, coughing a bit before passing it along to the weasel on his left. Mika smiles at him. Mika is really cute, the skunk thinks.

The joint makes its way back around the circle. This time, Wil manages to hold on to the fact that he's right on the cusp of 'too high,' and he bows out. Jackson and Mika both smile politely. "That's cool, man," the coyote says. Mika smiles again.

This helps Wil feel anchored.

He thinks about how glad he is that Hikaru helped bring down this barrier of his. As he's told Hikaru before, his aversion to smoking weed has never been a moral thing, just a 'not for him' thing. Now, though, that's changing. The skunk is in a wonderful mood. This is very much a him thing.

Minutes (?) pass, the conversation between Mika and Jackson heading on a tangent the blazed-out skunk stops being able to follow almost immediately. His own addled thoughts keep him occupied, and occasionally giggling, as he enjoys the little things, like the cool air of the garage, the scents mingling about within, and the dull thump of muted bass coming from the stereo system playing music for the party inside the house proper. Here the skunk has his own little private party, where he can enjoy himself without being overwhelmed by having too many people around, where pretty weasels won't make fun of him for laughing like an idiot at absolutely nothing because they're both in the same headspace.

And it's where he can be away from Raven for the time being.

Eventually, Mika gives Wil a poke in the side of the belly. "Wanna head back inside with me?" he asks. The skunk looks into the weasel's eyes, and he sees more than a friendly offer to rejoin a party.

It's a blur--Mika literally takes him by the paw for part of the way, the tiny weasel nevertheless able to cut a path through the crowd as if by magic. Wil hears his heart pound with each heavy step he takes, his feet feeling larger and heavier by the moment, tromping up the stairs after his friend, slipping into one of the upstairs rooms with all the stealth and subtlety of an overweight skunk who's really baked and too giddy to think about much else beyond how horny he suddenly is.

What room are they in? It can't be the P's and Q's room, which Wil fears at first, but even in his state he can tell this must be a guest bedroom or something just from the décor and the fact that it's not a two-person bed there in the corner. Mika sets his paws on the skunk's hips. The weasel looks up as he takes a few steps back. He falls, purposefully, and the bed becomes a two-person bed regardless.

Wil is making out with the weasel at once, muzzles spending a few clumsy seconds figuring out how to best come together before their mutual groaning melds into passionate music. The inside of Mika's mouth tastes like weed and liquor and male and weasel and oh, fuck, is the skunk too fat and heavy to be sitting in the weasel's lap like this?

Well, Mika isn't complaining; he's squirming, but he isn't complaining. Then he's squirming with a more obvious hard-on in his pants. Then he's squirming with his paw pressed against Wil's own crotch, grinding and groping against the shape of his trapped cock inside.

With his blood pumping and his adrenaline surging and his hormones raging, the skunk's mind becomes something even he can't follow. Not deliberately. Not directly. It's instinct. It's desire. It's need. Clothes begin to come off. Arms are shifting this way and that, and the skunk loses track of which limbs belong to whom as the pair giggle and pant and commiserate about how hopefully they don't get caught and oh, there's Mika's warm little paw wrapping itself around Wil's dick and giving it a long, long squeeze that milks both a heavy drizzle of precum and a drawn-out whimper of utter bliss from the skunk.

Mika lays himself back on the bed, naked and grinning, his eyes shot red from the marijuana but nevertheless brimming with a seductive force unlike anything Wil has experienced outside of mere jerk-off fantasies in years or maybe ever. The skunk goes to lean his head down into what he can only assume is the lap that's on offer in front of him, but the weasel reaches out with both arms and clamps his paws onto the skunk's sides.

Wil looks up, confused. Mika says nothing, and simply pulls as hard as he can, clearly needing Wil to play along if he's to get anywhere. Dizzy and even more confused now, the skunk goes where the weasel's paws want him to go, which winds up with the skunk sitting astride the little weasel's chest.

"Hold on," Wil begins to protest, certain that his weight must be crushing his smaller friend, but anything he's about to say vanishes when the inside of his mind goes white as the weasel engulfs almost the entirety of the skunk's cock into his mouth with a single, hungry push of his muzzle. Wil's thighs tense up, and from beneath him he hears a high-pitched and sexually charged whimper-moan as his weasel-buddy only nurses that much harder on the dick he's fighting to cram into his snout.

The weasel bobs and bobs and grinds his muzzle into the skunk's lap and bobs some more and fuck, fuck, fuck that tongue is a happy and eager one, isn't it? Slim fingers dig into Wil's pudgy backside, then squeeze, and then tug, forcing the skunk's package even more firmly against the greedy little weasel's face. Huff after huff of heated air wafts through the coarse fur of the skunk's groin as the slinky little cocksucker takes unsteady, panting breaths through his nostrils, seeming to get even higher than he already is off of the musk suffusing his nose right up close.

It's been ages, maybe even more than a year, since Wil has last gotten a blowjob. His fuse is a short one; the weed, however, makes it longer. Jacking off after smoking up with Hikaru is always fun. The fantasies linger better, even if they change more unexpectedly, and the sensations of edging himself are even more gratifying when time is dilated.

But this isn't jerking off. This is a top-quality, deeply needed blowjob from a hungry and desperate muzzle. Mika continues to squeak almost like he's being tickled, those high-pitched noises somehow dripping with lust. Wil shifts further forward, letting his knees bear against the mattress to either side of the weasel's head. Mika's paws grab hold of the skunk's wide hips. A slow and steady muzzle-fucking commences.

Wil tilts his head back and closes his eyes. His pulse pounds in his ears. His own moans of ecstasy drown out any sounds Mika is making by this point. The marijuana in the skunk's brain forces his focus to grow ever narrower by the moment. First he's fucking his weasel-friend's muzzle at a party. Then he's fucking his weasel-friend's muzzle. Soon it's just his rock-hard, leaky cock and the warm, wet, eager muzzle that he keeps plunging it into.

Orgasm shatters reality for a series of frozen moments. The skunk shoots down the weasel's greedy throat. Each pulse down between his legs brings with it the subsequent moment. He loses count after three. How high does it go? Not as high as he is, the skunk thinks before giggling like an idiot. Next, he's rolling off to the side, sprawling out on his back, naked and spent, belly rising and falling.

Mika hops up and straddles the skunk's lap. "Oh, no, no," Wil pants. "I...I can't--"

"Relax," the weasel assures, leaning forward, both paws resting atop the skunk's gut, hard-on jutting against the lower section of that big belly. "I'm not gonna ride your dick. Just gonna do this." And then he proceeds to slowly 'fuck' the skunk's tummy, rocking back and forth so that his cock glides through that soft, plush fur.

At first, it's weird. Almost too weird; Wil feels fat and objectified and uncomfortable. Also he's tired and spent and the weed is weighing very heavily on his brain, so he doesn't have the energy to protest, and the longer he watches Mika slowly bucking against him through his heavy, bleary eyes, the more the sensation starts to feel good, the less awkward he feels about it.

The weasel is loving every moment of it, Wil realizes, which allows him to start loving it in turn. "God, you're fucking hot," Mika grunts, a high-pitched note of arousal making even that gruff, lustful admission sound cutesy, the juxtaposition making the skunk giggle--and with that dash of humor in the moment, the rest of his anxiety about his body vanishes.

Mika is decently hung for such a small weasel; Wil doesn't have a good view of his friend's cock, but judging by how big it feels against his belly, it's pretty big. Big enough, for sure. Big, and leaking like the skunk can hardly believe, only reaffirming how much Mika is enjoying humping his gut.

Before much longer, it's even leakier, to an almost truly absurd degree. _Where's it all coming from?_Wil wonders before he feels a bunch more weight slumping against his belly. Mika shifts forward, catching his paws against the headboard. Only then does the skunk realize that the weasel just came all over his stomach.

Wil tilts his head back to look up at Mika, slender mustelid frame arching over him. The weasel's eyes are red and dizzy from the weed-laced afterglow, and an adorably dumb grin takes over his muzzle.

Early February

Hikaru flashes Wil an adorably dumb grin as he takes the joint from Raven. "Easy, kitty," the arctic fox cautions. "Go at your own pace. You don't need to worry about impressing anyone."

Poor Raven continues to cough. It's only his second hit, but the black cat isn't much of a smoker, and he's clearly tried to bite off more than he can chew. Wil reaches out and sets a steadying paw on his shoulder. "Just let it out. Take a break if you need to." The cat shivers and shudders a few more times, the coughing finally starting to subside.

"Maybe we should skip you for a bit," Hikaru says as he exhales his own hit, muzzle pointing up in order to send the smoke straight up into the air above everyone's heads. "Think you're probably way ahead of us two anyway."

"Think you're right," Raven mumbles blearily, one final, raspy cough escaping his throat.

Wil takes the joint from Hikaru. It's a brisk and wintry evening, but the skunk has a thick coat of fur, and the arctic fox is, well, an arctic fox. Raven is bundled up in a thicker winter jacket, though right now the chill seems to be the least of the cat's concerns. "You'll be fine," Wil assures him. "Trust me, I was even worse at this sort of thing when I first started." The skunk takes a slow, practiced drag, the kind that he used to envy Hikaru for being able to pull off just a few months ago.

With Raven temporarily out of the circle, Hikaru reaches past him to take the joint directly from Wil. "Yeah, it's not a race or anything," the fox adds. "Besides, if it was, I'd definitely lose." The smoldering orange-red cherry bobs up and down in the dark as Hikaru chuckles with the joint held between his lips.

Back when they'd first moved in together, Wil had wondered how Hikaru could function as well as he did while he was stoned all the time; now that he and the fox have been smoking buddies for a while now, the skunk has realized that Hikaru _isn't_stoned all the time, despite how much he smokes. It seems almost a lifetime ago, in some senses, that Wil would get as loopy and fucked up as Raven is right now off of just two hits. A blessing and a curse at the same time, perhaps.

The joint makes its way back and forth between Wil and Hikaru a few more times before Raven reaches out for it again when it's his turn. The cat takes a much smaller puff this time, managing to exhale the smoke through his nostrils. He giggles, which makes Hikaru grin again. "Glad you're liking it so much, man," the fox says.

"Yeah, I mean, like...Terry tells me I need to relax, y'know?" Raven says, paws resting on the coarse roof tiles behind him as he leans back and stares up at the night sky. It's overcast, the lights of suburbia making the cloud canopy overhead glow a sort of greenish-gray. "This definitely counts, I think."

Wil doesn't know when Raven and Terry started dating, but Raven moved into Terry's room just after New Year's. The skunk doesn't know what happened to that 'no sleeping with roommates' policy the cat had, but he and the tiger are definitely shacking up at this point. Which, Wil stresses to himself, means they're not really 'roommates' so much as boyfriends who happen to live together now. Still, the ostensible hypocrisy has taken a while for the skunk to get over. Maybe he's still in the process.

A blissful look slow spreads across Raven's face, his eyes slowly lidding. In the moment, Wil thinks about a time three, maybe four years ago when he sucked Raven's cock back at the feline's old place. The memory brings with it a tingle of excitement, along with a forlorn sense that he'll never really be able to capture that sense of pride that comes with pushing another person's buttons so well.

Late February

God, Jackson knows how to push Wil's buttons so well. The skunk needs only to feel and hear his phone buzz on the mattress beside him to get a rush of excitement and refreshed arousal. When he picks up the phone to read the message, both of those emotions spike all the more.

What can I say? I like that it took you super-long to cum when blazed out of your mind. <3

It's still so weird to Wil that he and Jackson hooked up, pretty much out of nowhere. And given how amazingly flirty the coyote has been in the not-even-a-week since then, it doesn't sound like he wants it to be a one-time thing. The skunk adjusts the bulge in his underpants with his left paw as he taps out a response on his phone with the right. I give credit to the killer weed you shared with me!

Jackson had been over to hang out with Hikaru the week before. Wil was surprised-but-not that the two knew each other to that degree--not that it was a bad thing. The coyote had brought over a small batch of some homegrown stuff from his personal stash to share, and Hikaru had invited the skunk to join them (out in the backyard this time, not up on the roof outside the fox's window).

Wil's phone buzzes again less than a minute later. _I got some more at my place if you wanna hang out tomorrow night._The end of the message is tagged with a grinning coyote-face emoji.

The skunk's cock throbs inside his briefs. For as long as he's known Jackson, he never had any indication that there was a sexual interest on the coyote's part--not until after that night where they'd both been smoking with Hikaru. Eventually, the arctic fox had gone to bed, and Jackson had decided to hang around, after that, well, things just sort of spiraled.

_Hikaru's not going to be mad that you're sharing your special stuff with me and not him, is he?_Wil hopes his message comes across as teasing and not insecurity on his part; it's only recently that he's been able to determine the difference within himself.

Jackson's reply comes even more promptly than the one before._Hikaru doesn't have a thick black skunk-cock that I'm dying to get back into my muzz again._This, followed by a skunk emoji and eggplant emoji, respectively.

No longer is Wil simply idly adjusting and rubbing at himself while waiting for responses--now he's full-on jerking off while making plans with his coyote friend, the two of them friskily promising naughty things to one another all the while.

April

Frisky and naughty thoughts cross Wil's mind when Hikaru gives him 'the look' from across the table as the skunk goes about grinding up a full gram of weed. "What?" Wil asks, voice spiking into a coy lilt.

"A 'little behind, huh?" Hikaru quips back with one arched eyebrow.

"That's what I said: Mika's running a little behind." The skunk twists the grinder open and dumps the contents into the rolling tray. "But he'll be here with extra snacks, he says."

"And with that little behind of his."

Jackson has already shown up, and he's hanging out in the backyard with Raven and Terry and some of Raven and Terry's friends that Wil doesn't know super well. "Well if I disappear for a bit during the afternoon you know where I am and what I'm up to," the skunk says with a broad and confident smile.

He's keeping the weed in the rolling tray even though he's not actually rolling anything up; instead he grabs his pipe--well, one of his pipes, anyway. It's the first one he bought, a few month back, when Hikaru brought him glass shopping for the first time. It's thick and sturdy, black with silvery-white stripes. The arctic fox had said it reminded him of Wil, and that pretty much sealed the deal on the skunk's purchase.

The pipe also has an obligingly large bowl, which is the main reason Wil is choosing it right now, packing it with some of the weed he's just prepped. Once that's done, the skunk unscrews the bottom of the grinder and tips out a small dusting off kief atop the freshly packed bowl. Hikaru gives him a look of pride and approval.

Wil gets to his feet. Hikaru tosses him a lighter. The skunk and fox head out through the back door to join their roommates and other guests. Raven, resting his head against Terry's shoulder, rights himself as the pair step out onto the back patio. "Hey guys!" the black cat calls out.

"Hey y'all!" Will responds with a bouncy shimmy of his big tail, the paw holding the lighter giving a playful swishy-wristed flap. "Ready to start the day off right?" He holds the pipe and lighter out to Raven, closest on his left.

"Happy Four-Twenty!" Raven says as he takes the offered pipe. The cat begins with a deep, slow hit that makes him cough a good bit, but which Wil recognizes as being a much bigger hit than he used to be capable of. The skunk feels a fleeting kindred spark.

Raven passes the pipe to Terry, who instead of taking a hit of his own simply passes it along to the (admittedly cute) chubby raccoon to his left. "Thanks, man," the raccoon says to Wil, holding up the pipe with a nod of appreciation before he starts to take a hit.

The skunk looks out over the backyard and at the trees and houses of suburbia beyond, the sky a lovely shade of blue dotted with fluffy white clouds that don't at all resemble the kind being blown up from the patio table. Hopefully, Wil thinks, Mika will make it here with those snacks before the munchies kick in for everyone. It's going to be a long day, after all.

At his side, Hikaru gives the skunk a gentle nudge. Wil turns, expecting the fox to be offering him the pipe, but it hasn't made its way around that far yet. Instead, Hikaru has a soft smile and a happy little look in his eyes. "You know, I'm really glad I got to know you better," he says, not in a whisper, but still as a soft aside that the others don't overhear.

Wil feels his heart give a strong thump at that. "Thanks," he says, a smile overtaking his own face. "I'm glad I got to know you too."

It's a little after 7:30 now, and the sun is beginning to set. The sky is aglow with fiery streaks of orange and rich bands of purple. The sound of quiet chatter coming from the patio only barely reaches Wil and Hikaru sitting atop the roof on the opposite side of the house. By now, things have mostly calmed down, and the skunk and the arctic fox are hanging out and watching the sunset together as they pass a joint back and forth.

The edibles are still going strong, Wil can feel, but not so strong that he's not in control. Raven unfortunately greened out pretty hard before the pizza delivery guy even showed up, buy thankfully Terry has been taking care of him.

Not in the same way that Wil took care of Mika earlier that afternoon, mind. The weasel is out on the back patio with the other party guests right now, who are presumably all ignorant of the fact that the skunk fucked him silly a few hours ago. That thought makes Wil feel a surge of self-satisfaction along with an accompanying residual tingle down between his thighs.

Hikaru knows, of course. He knew before it had even happened, after all. He'd given Wil a high five out back earlier when the skunk had nonchalantly snuck back into the festivities; Mika came back out a few minutes later, to make it less obvious that they'd been gone together, but honestly, everyone was so high that it's doubtful they'd have noticed anyway

Now that it's later in the day and most of the folks in attendance are just lazing about either out back on the patio or downstairs watching TV, Wil and Hikaru have snuck off to have a little smoke on their own. Besides, they have a higher tolerance than anyone else at the party--well, except for Jackson, probably, but he's still out back, too.

Hikaru takes the joint from Wil. "You know," he says, "this has been a really awesome day."

The skunk stares out at the sunset, the drugs only partially responsible for the positive feelings coursing through him right now. "Yeah. Yeah, it really has."

The arctic fox hands the joint back after a few puffs, then leans his weight in against Wil's side. Wil reaches over to squeeze Hikaru's far shoulder before letting his arm fall back at his side, paw resting against the roof. The fox stays resting where he is, and the skunk does not push him away.