These ones. The ones they're shattering, not just breaking. Every kiss and every night spent together and every time clothes start coming off snaps them into smaller and smaller pieces. And it's not just Steve breaking them. Danny is, too. Danny who doesn't break rules.
Except sometimes. When they can go ahead and burn away, because other things are more important. Meka. Peterson. Grace. Steve. He's been breaking rules left and right for Steve. Went into North Korea, with the knowledge that no one in the States would or could help if things went south. Went after the CIA, by himself, when he knows, he knows how stupid not having backup is.
That was a deja vu he really hadn't needed in his life, ending up in that chair.
And now this. Which seems so much less necessary, right? Rules, those rules, they can't possibly be as important as the weight of Steve as he pushes up, pushes Danny down, shoulderblades hitting the bed and head sinking into the bottom edge of the pillow. Fingers chasing around Steve's side to his back, to splay there, hard. Proprietary. An arm around Steve's shoulders, to drag him closer.
He already loses a heartbeat or five when Steve's in danger, alright. He already cares too much. Has for too long, even before he recognized what this is. Was already ready to do anything, fuck the rulebook and the Governor's displeasure, anything at all to help Steve if he needed it.
He's already compromised. Sleeping with Steve doesn't change anything.
"For what possible reason would you need to set off grenades in your yard, Steven? Can't you just use sparklers like everyone else?"
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These ones. The ones they're shattering, not just breaking. Every kiss and every night spent together and every time clothes start coming off snaps them into smaller and smaller pieces. And it's not just Steve breaking them. Danny is, too. Danny who doesn't break rules.
Except sometimes. When they can go ahead and burn away, because other things are more important. Meka. Peterson. Grace. Steve. He's been breaking rules left and right for Steve. Went into North Korea, with the knowledge that no one in the States would or could help if things went south. Went after the CIA, by himself, when he knows, he knows how stupid not having backup is.
That was a deja vu he really hadn't needed in his life, ending up in that chair.
And now this. Which seems so much less necessary, right? Rules, those rules, they can't possibly be as important as the weight of Steve as he pushes up, pushes Danny down, shoulderblades hitting the bed and head sinking into the bottom edge of the pillow. Fingers chasing around Steve's side to his back, to splay there, hard. Proprietary. An arm around Steve's shoulders, to drag him closer.
He already loses a heartbeat or five when Steve's in danger, alright. He already cares too much. Has for too long, even before he recognized what this is. Was already ready to do anything, fuck the rulebook and the Governor's displeasure, anything at all to help Steve if he needed it.
He's already compromised. Sleeping with Steve doesn't change anything.
"For what possible reason would you need to set off grenades in your yard, Steven? Can't you just use sparklers like everyone else?"