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01.
The first time it happens, Patrick doesn't mean for it to. He just dips down to kiss Brendon without really thinking and ends up inhaling a mouthful of smoke. It makes him cough, if only because it's unexpected, and Brendon laughs at him. Probably because he's high and almost everything is funny.
02.
The next time, Patrick's passing by as Brendon's smoking on the couch and Brendon catches his arm to pull Patrick close. He presses their lips together and Patrick inhales obligingly, stale smoke settling into his lungs. It's not the worst thing, but it's a strange feeling and Patrick's not really sure how to feel about it. He's not really much for smoking, honestly, so this isn't something he has a ton of experience with.
"Yeah?" Brendon holds out the joint and Patrick takes it. "You gonna share?"
Patrick pulls Brendon close after he's taken a drag and presses their lips together. Brendon swallows the smoke down smoothly, without even missing a beat, and Patrick tries not to think about how often Brendon might have done this with Ryan. That's in the past. Ryan doesn't wear Brendon's mark and that means something.
"You okay?" Brendon's voice is slow, but the concern is palpable. "I know omegas shouldn't smoke—"
"That's an old wives tale," Patrick says. He's not surprised Brendon still believes it, though. There's still weird pockets of knowledge leftover from Brendon's upbringing. Omegas shouldn't do this and they shouldn't do that—bullshit, all of it. Patrick would do whatever he damn well pleased. "I'm fine, just thinking."
"About?"
"You, mostly." Patrick sits down on the couch and settles against Brendon's side. “Like usual.”
He takes the joint back from Brendon and inhales, not even remotely surprised when Brendon presses their lips together and swallows the smoke down. The kiss lasts longer than it probably should, but then Brendon's taking the joint away and Patrick can't tell if he's lightheaded from the weed or Brendon's kisses.
It's difficult to keep track of the time after that, them sitting on the couch and trading the joint, but Patrick finds he doesn't really mind it that much.
03.
Brendon leans against the doorframe with a joint between his fingers, eyebrow raised. Patrick hesitates for a moment—he knows that if he said no, Brendon wouldn't push the issue, but it's not that. He just doesn't know what he wants, really.
“Sure,” he says finally.
“Really?” Brendon sounds faintly surprised, like he was expecting Patrick to refuse. “You don't have to say yes, you know.”
“I know.” Patrick beckons Brendon over. “I want to.”
There's a moment where Brendon hesitates too, like he's not entirely sure about this either, but then he sits down next to Patrick on the bed. Patrick watches him light the joint, watches him roll it between his fingers before taking a drag. He doesn't move to kiss Patrick this time, instead blowing a smoke ring to him. It hits Patrick in the face and he laughs, taking the joint from Brendon. He breathes in smoke, and the grabs the front of Brendon's shirt and kissing him. Brendon takes it, a hand coming up behind Patrick's head to keep him close.
He pulls away eventually, though. The joint is back in Brendon's hand, and Patrick kisses him once he's taken a drag from it, swallowing smoke and then pulling away before he chokes on it. Brendon smooths his hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Slowly,” he says. “It's not a race.”
04.
They're at a party and Brendon takes a hit of a joint before instinctively turning to Patrick. Their lips press together, and this time the sensation of smoke swelling into his lungs is almost comfortable. Familiar, even. Patrick almost finds it comforting now—it's an omega thing, maybe. He knows that some omegas find particular scents comforting because they're so closely intertwined with a particular person. It's never been the case with Patrick, but then again he supposes that having a mate is a different thing from just knowing a person.
Abruptly, he's acutely aware that the jacket he's wearing is Brendon's and not his. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal when the left the house, but now it seems almost monumental.
“Hey,” Brendon says. “You okay?”
“I love you,” Patrick says. It has too much gravity for the moment, and Brendon frowns in confusion. “I'm wearing your jacket.”
“Yeah, you are.” Brendon turns to rub his nose along Patrick's neck, across his mark. “I like it.”
Patrick breathes in the comfort of Brendon's scent and tries to ease the panic in his chest. It dissipates slowly, Brendon rubbing circles into Patrick's shoulder until Patrick's burrowed into Brendon's side, safe and warm.
05.
Leaning over, Patrick takes the takes the joint from Brendon and breathes in the smoke. At this point, it's almost expected for Brendon to lean over and press their lips together, drink the smoke from Patrick's mouth. He's lost track of how many times they've done this, how often Brendon has kissed him with the taste of smoke between them. Currently, they're in Patrick's nest—it smells of weed and Brendon, and that's exactly how Patrick likes it.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Brendon touches their foreheads together and Patrick's lost track of where the joint is. “It's a long tour.”
“I'll see you in two weeks,” Patrick says, instead of anything that's welling in his chest. It's true, but it's been so long since they haven't been together on a tour or at least able to see each other relatively frequently. “I can handle it.”
“That's my Patrick.” Pressing a kiss to Patrick's temple, Brendon passes over the joint. “I'm gonna miss you.”
There's a plea rising in his chest, and Patrick takes a hit to cover it up. He kisses Brendon and hopes it doesn't taste of desperation.
+01.
Patrick whines, fingers twisted in Brendon's shirt. Everything smells wrong and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all.
“I know,” Brendon says, petting Patrick's hair gently. “I know, but I can't.”
Intellectually, Patrick knows that. He knows why everything smells wrong and he'll be glad for it in five more months, but currently his body wants something his mind knows he can't have. During the pregnancy, Brendon's given up weed in favor of their baby developing healthily and that's fine. That's something they'd agreed on, but neither one of them had realized quite how much Patrick needed the scent of it. It'll pass, according to the doctors, but he's currently having a rough time of it.
“Shhhh,” Brendon says. He presses a kiss to Patrick's temple. “I've got you.”