First dance
Beautiful as everything had been—the ceremony, the dinner, the cake—it all felt far away and hazy compared to the solid reality of being in Marijuana’s arms as his husband for their first dance. Heroin allowed himself to be tugged, allowed himself to fall into Marijuana’s arms, allowed himself to be lead by his new-husband. It was easier that way, Heroin was riding the high of their merged powers and the joints he’d shared with Mari, not entirely certain of which sent his head spinning more. Then again, Marijuana had never needed anything else to lighten Heroin’s head; the Organic Drug did that all on his own. Smoke sang in Heroin’s blood as they spun, stubble scraping at his cheek as he leaned a little further in to Marijuana. The familiar riff before the song slowed again changed the lead, Heroin pulling them back as his hand settled against the small of his husband’s back. White eyes shut, he savoured the moment as he spun them slowly, already dizzy as the tempo of the song ebbed again and rose again, Reed’s voice a memory just beyond Heroin’s grasp. “I wish that I was born a thousand years ago,” his voice was rougher while his lips brushed over the shell of Marijuana’s ear. “I wish I’d sailed the darkened seas, on a great big clipper ship,” he stopped as the song continued around them and stole a kiss. It was light, unhurried; Heroin smiled as it deepened, not by much, they had time.