Derek watches Noah inhale closely, making note of how he holds his fingers. The smoke smells sweet on its own, and when combined withe the apple it has a sort of earthy pleasantness. When Dean speaks, Derek scoffs and cuts him a look. "Pansy."

He leans forward and takes the apple and the lighter, looking down at it with a slight frown for a moment. This is pretty much the last thing he expected to be doing when he started heading over here, but somehow this is where he's ended up.

Derek lifts the apple to his mouth and lights the weed, or whatever the hell it is, and pulls the smoke into his mouth. It lingers on his tongue, sticky hot, and then he draws it into his lungs. It burns a little, and makes his eyes glass over with a slight sting, but he tips his head back and exhales without coughing.

"Here you go," Derek says, voice a little rough as he holds the apple out to dean. "Unless shotgunning is still on the table."