There was something in Dylan's voice when the younger man said Dave's name. Something that told Dave that something was coming, for better or for worse. And when he heard what Dylan said next, he knew it was for better. But also for the worst, the very worst, as the smoke reared its possessive, claiming, brutal head within his mind. It curled around his mind, power curled around his body, wanting to rip Dave away and carry him back to the Highway where he belonged.
But Marijuana couldn't do that. He could only wait in the back of Dave's mind, silent and hoping, knowing he was about to be devastated as he released Dave's throat from his sickly-sweet smoke-hold. It took Dave a moment to clear his head as much as was mortally possible and then he was grinning wider than he had in months. "Dylan, I-" Marijuana had retreated for the most part and Dave was able to think, able to respond. "Dylan, I love you too."
And then he was kissing the younger man, soft and passionate in an attempt to tell Dylan just how much he meant to him.