strangetrip | European Vacation: A Night in Amsterdam

Coby and Jag make the most of Amsterdam, aka get super stoned.

Jag had never realised how much he had a set vision of Amsterdam, by way of the odd movie set in the city, and general preconceptions circulating about the place. And he had definitely not expected the reality to be so close to his imagination. The paved streets, the coffeeshops, the red light district, the cyclists...

Well. He hadn't expected the cyclists to be bloody menaces.

But Coby and he had managed to avoid being run over by them so far, despite a couple of close calls. Jag was already pleasantly stoned, which worked nicely with the very natural, very simple high of being out and about somewhere that was wide open, without four-hour restrictions or the vacuum of space all around. Even better was being here with Coby, walking through the streets holding hands as they played drug tourists.

"What now?" he asked, glancing at his friend beside him. "Want to go have a pint? They said most pubs let you smoke inside." A pint and a joint sounded like a fantastic plan.

Amsterdam had been one of the few cities Coby had planned definitely to visit on his songwriting-recording tour; the tour that had been indefinitely shelved by his sudden, involuntary relocation to not quite SLO. He'd been before but that had been years ago. Wandering the streets now, hand in hand with Jag, both of them riding a nice buzz, was really good. He could forget, for awhile, that this wasn't their Earth any more than the inn was. Well, not forget exactly, but not caring.

"A pint would be excellent." He gave Jag's hand a warm squeeze and leaned in, shoulder nudging shoulder. The idea of smoking in a bar felt so fucking weird to him, but a joint, or two, with a beer, or two, sounded really damn good.

Jag smiled at Coby at that squeeze and nudge, unable and unwilling to curb his happiness. It was easy to forget the disappointment of being in a Europe that wasn't home, when it still felt so exhilarating to be free, if only for however long this would last. Especially when holding hands with Coby, daring anybody to have an issue with them, and riding a wicked buzz only enhancing the affection playing between them.

"Let's try here?" Jag suggested of the next pub they saw.

It wasn't long at all before they were sitting inside with a couple of pints, and Jag was rolling a joint with the weed they'd got from the coffeeshop. His knee rested easily against Coby's under the table, because having his hands full was no reason not to touch somehow, not to keep that connection going. "So what are your plans beyond tonight?" It was about all they'd discussed so far: tonight, and how stoned they planned on getting.

"Haven't really thought about it," Coby answered, shrugging. "Probably hang around here a few days. Maybe grab a train to somewhere, maybe work on some songs." Not go to London. It wouldn't be the same. And after months in California, he couldn't bear the thought of what London called summer without Anael or his friends.

"What about you? Tell me your getting out there somewhere while you can."

"Em's offered we go traveling together," Jag said, before taking a break in speaking to lick the skin, and close it up. He twisted up the end, lit it up for a brief second, just enough to get rid of that extra twist of paper, then offered it to Coby, leaning close to light it up again when Coby was ready to inhale. "I told her I'd get back to her tomorrow."

Coby leaned in too, taking advantage of the excuse for closeness as Jag lit the joint. "That's good, right? Her asking, you two getting to travel together?" Not the same as Jag's Em, and Coby tried not to dwell on how much it must hurt not finding her here. But that Jag and Emma were getting closer, yeah, he was all in favor of that.

"Yeah," Jag confirmed with a small smile, then shrugged one shoulder, and picked up his pint for a drink. "And no. She's never gonna be my Em, is she?" No matter how close to her she was. It wouldn't be fair to her, or, maybe, him, would it? Never mind the age difference, which was heightened now. "But it's good, being friends." It was the most he could hope for, really. Should hope for.

Whether Jag would let himself hope or not, Coby would hope for Jag's sake. "Being friends is good," he agreed, thinking more than friends would be better. But they had to get there, if they ever did, by themselves. Love was seriously complicated, when it wasn't being the easiest thing ever.

He passed the joint back to Jag. "You should totally go travel together while you can. Any ideas where you want to go? Places you want to see?"

"I've never really been anywhere," Jag stated with a bit of a shrug, smoke uncurling with his words. "Italy, maybe? She's told me a bit about it." Mostly it sounded like she liked it, so why not? He'd be happy anywhere.

Italy? Wasn't she supposed to be French or something? Not that it mattered. Wherever they went would be good, as long as they were going somewhere. Too long cooped up in one place wasn't healthy. "Italy'd be cool. Long as you're both having fun. And if you can go to Rome and not have fun, you're doing nights wrong." Like with Amsterdam, Coby'd only been to Rome the once, a handful of days a few years back. His memories were kind of fuzzy, not a surprise, but that was as much from enjoying the clubs as it was his swiss cheese brain.

"Honestly, I don't care where we're going," Jag said, and took another puff before handing the joint back to Coby. "I just want to travel." Just the thought of seeing the landscape fly by, it made his soul ache with longing. "But... maybe going to that French village with that statue of Sara la Kali. It could be nice." They'd missed the pilgrimage, but, well. Beggars, choosers, all that.

"I bet she'd be up for that." Coby hadn't gotten to know Emma all that well, or Jag's Em at all. She was shy enough he hadn't wanted to push, or to make things awkward for her somehow. But she seemed like the type who'd be willing to go some place just because Jag wanted to. Coby rested his arm on the back of Jag's chair, casual contact and getting more comfortable as the pot and beer did their thing. "And hell, if nothing else, afterwards, you could hop on the next train leaving town, let it take you wherever it's going. Just go, wherever, long as we can." Coby had been at the inn long enough to expect they'd all be pulled back eventually.

It wasn't much contact, just a bit of Coby's arm against Jag's back, but it was enough to make Jag roll his head towards Coby, a small smile on his lips. Not a conscious decision, very much an easy reaction, all the easier for the buzz of the grass. "That's the idea," he confirmed. He reached out to rest his hand on Coby's thigh. "You're gonna keep in touch, yeah? Maybe we find each other again, while we're here?"

"I'll text if you will." Coby winked. "But if you get too caught up seeing the sights," yeah, he was mostly thinking of Emma, not wherever they might go, "I'll try not to be too heartbroken." Fingertips traced slow circles along Jag's shoulder, soft fabric and the warmth of skin underneath. "And if I go anywhere else, I'll let you know." Or more likely, just text so Jag would know he hadn't drowned in a canal or something.

Jag rubbed his palm on Coby's thigh a couple of times, just to feel the scratch of the denim against his skin, then settled down again. "Watch out, I might even ring you." Jag knew that he would want to hear Coby's voice, more than just read his words. He wasn't much of a reader, after all. Or a writer, really.

"Like I'm going to complain about that." Calling was good too, where they could actually talk, and hear what wasn't said. Texting was maybe easier, since the other person could get to it whenever they wanted and had time, but it wouldn't be the same as hearing Jag's voice. "Call when you feel like it. I'll be... around."

Jag leaned over to give Coby a soft kiss, and told him, quietly, for his ears only. "I'll miss you."

The kiss was brief, soft and warm, and Coby reminded himself they were in public – real public, not just the inn with the same fifty people or so – when what he wanted was to draw it out, take it deeper. Instead he ran a hand through Jag's hair to rest along the back of his neck, for the touch and the closeness as he answered in the same tone. "You can miss me tomorrow. Tonight, I'm all yours, firebug."

Real public. The kind of public where Jag couldn't just use his fire, or Coby sprout his wings. It was a bit of an adjustment, but Jag's thoughts were all on Coby just then. The taste of weed and beer on his tongue, and the slide of Coby's fingers through his hair, the weight of his hand on his nape. He exhaled happily, and stayed close, because public or not, he didn't give a shite if anyone had a problem with two men being together. "I love you, Cobe," he murmured, because he'd known that for true for a long while, and that moment was too perfect for his buzzed, relaxed mind to think that it was anything but a good idea to say so. It wasn't as if Jag hadn't been saying as much, without words, every time they kissed, or fucked, or even just hung out. It hardly even felt like a thing right now, saying it; it simply was.

It didn't feel momentous or noteworthy. Coby didn't even realize it was the first time Jag said the words. It was one of those true things you felt the need to say out loud sometimes. He knew how Jag felt; Jag had always been shit at hiding his feelings. "Love you too, Charlie," in the same low murmur. "I got a room. When you want, we can go and show you just how much."

Jag chuckled, low and clearly into it. He glanced at their glasses, then kissed Coby again, brief, but heartfelt. "Let's finish our drinks?" Then they could go and show - no, remind - remind each other how much they meant it.

"Sounds good to me." After one more kiss, because why not when he wanted to, and a warm grin. Then eyes on Jag, he picked up his glass with his free hand to take a drink. Finish their drinks and then back to the room - sounded more than good to him.