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The smoke burned in his lungs, and for a moment he couldn't help but remember the time before, when there were still asthma attacks and shortness of air and the fear that he'd never catch a breath again. The thought sent him flying upright, and he pulled his knees to his chest, coughing against them.
Come on Scotty, Stiles had said. Lunar eclipse. Total lunar eclipse. The night the werewolves lose their power... which means the night that werewolves can let their hair - fur? whatever - down and have some fun, yeah? He'd patted Scott on the back, conspiratorially flashed the plastic baggie in the pocket of his hoodie, and then they'd been on the road (because Scott could never deny Stiles anything, really). But the first hit, under the moonlight in a clearing in the woods, that had brought him here. Coughing and sputtering, eyes watering as he tried to breathe normally again. In and out. In and - cough, cough - out, and wow this would be really embarrassing if he was with anyone other than his best friend.
Scott felt Stiles’s hand on his back, rubbing soothingly, but the comfort was lessened by the fit of giggles that had consumed the other boy, shaking his body. Scott turned and looked at him, managing to stop coughing long enough to give Stiles a huge pout and wide, watery puppy eyes. “S’not funny,” he protested weakly, which sent Stiles into spasms of laughter again.
“Except that it really, really is,” Stiles gasped out, shaking his head. “My big, strong Alpha werewolf, reduced to a coughing mess from his first hit… it’s only funny because it’s so fucking adorable, dude.” He slapped Scott’s back, trying to look apologetic, but any sign that he was sorry was wiped away by the mirth shining in his eyes. “You’ve saved this whole town from evil that makes Emperor Palpatine look like a boy scout,” he tried to explain, watching Scott’s face light up for a moment as he (finally!) got the Star Wars reference. “But you’re still this goddamned innocent little puppy dog, and it’s cute.”
He tried to glare, he really did, but maybe he’d felt something from the one tiny hit or maybe it was (yet again) his complete inability to resist the faces that Stiles pulled at him, but Scott found himself giving in, pout fading away to a giggle of his own. Okay, maybe it was a little funny that his first hit had done more damage to him than a full out werewolf brawl. “Why’s it so easy for you, then?” he wondered out loud. “You don’t do this that much, I’d smell it. I’d definitely smell it,” he laughed, wrinkling his nose, glad that his sense of smell seemed to be dulled along with his other supernatural abilities.
“Naturally gifted, obviously,” Stiles smirked, and left it at that. Scott felt there was something more to it, but then Stiles was leaning in closer, almost resting their foreheads together. If anyone else had moved into his space like that, Scott would have pulled back, but this was Stiles, and the feeling of pack was comforting. “Here, we’re gonna try something else, okay? It’ll be easier, I promise. All you gotta do is inhale.”
Scott’s brow creased in a gentle frown as he watched Stiles take a hit of his own, but he’d trusted Stiles in situations a lot more dire than this. He knew his friend would never - intentionally - steer him wrong. “Okay,” he started to say, but he didn’t get the word out before Stiles’s lips were pressed to his in an open mouth kissed, and - wow, okay, that wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He parted his own lips, instinctively starting to kiss back, when he remembered what Stiles had said. Inhale. Eyes slipping shut, he did just that, breathing in the smoke as Stiles breathed it out. It filled his mouth, filled his lungs, so much less intense when it was second-hand. Instead of harsh and painful it was a slow, mellow burn, and he heard a soft groan escape his own lips as he exhaled. “Oh.”
The first thing that caught Scott’s attention as he pulled back from Stiles was his friend’s grin, ear to ear, almost smug. “See? Told you. Way easier for your first time.” It was on the tip of Scott’s tongue to ask just how Stiles knew that, who had done this with him, but before he could get the words out he felt a new feeling creeping through him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, a lightness-heaviness (which, he idly thought, didn’t make sense, but it was exactly how he felt and who cared about sense right now?) that was stealing down his limbs until it reached his fingertips and toes, at the same time that it settled comfortably at the base of his neck.
He pulled back further from Stiles, laying down again, stretching out on the ground and letting his body hum happily in the moonlight. It was so different from the way he usually felt as he looked up at a full moon, none of the push and pull of his body’s own tide, just a calmness of body and mind that was more refreshing than anything he’d felt in a long time. Turning his head, he blinked up at Stiles with a smile of his own. “I get it, now,” he breathed out, the words hanging in the night air. “Why you wanted to share this with me. And… thank you.”
The last thing he saw before his eyes slipped quietly closed was Stiles leaning down toward him again, grin wide, eyes twinkling. His words were an exhale, smoke against Scott’s lips again. “Scotty boy, we’re just getting started.”