"we have stuff in the kitchen—" you insisted for the third time, shuffling through cupboards full of snacks, munchies, and anything else jason could dream of.

but, no. he wanted the one thing you guys didn't have. milk and ice cream. you knew you shouldn't have invited him to your smoke session.

even if his stoney giggle and red eyes are pretty cute. even if he whines like a toddler when you two don't have the snacks he wants. and... even if he usually passes out on your couch and drools on your cushions.

he's so lucky you're just as high as him, or else you'd throw this box of crackers at his head.

"no, no, no—" jason groans from his spot, melted on the couch and pushing a hand lazily through his hair; his red and tired eyes settled on the ceiling, "you can, drive us? or..." his eyes closed lazily, a long sigh leaving him. he didn't even bother to finish his sentence. what was he talking about?

he didn't remember. he just really wanted a milkshake.