"I failed at that? Am I holding some kind of leash? Do you realize the sort of hazard pay I should be getting if I am somehow in charge of your ability to restrain yourself? At the very least I deserve a raise, because that is another full-time job. Or are you just always about to lose your self-control?"
Look. Surely Steve managed to function for years before he met Danny. Right? Okay, yeah. He was a loose cannon for a lot of those first months, and still is, but Danny likes to think that maybe Steve has grown. Mellowed, possibly. At least from those first moments, guns in each others' faces, twisting Danny's arm behind his back. Something he hasn't tried since, no matter how many times Danny gets up in his face, or yells at him, or tries to reason with him (usually a lost cause).
But then there are those days when it's like meeting Steve all over again. Like last week. When they were up here, but there were no smiles and there was no laughter, and Steve really didn't give a shit about marking up Danny's skin. Not in the way that makes him groan, or whimper. Like he was angry at it. Because he was angry at Danny. And Danny knows this is a thin and shaky line they walk, between Steve being like this and Steve being like that.
That. Nowhere near like this. When Steve is teasing, murmuring words into Danny's neck, making the skin there spark and shrink in reaction, making Danny bite down on one of those sounds Steve just referred to. The ones he said were obscene, which, Danny begs to disagree. They are not. It's not his fault that Steve drags them out of him, like he drags shakes and tremors and insanity. Like he drags all these ridiculous words that mean absolutely nothing, because they're all just skimming the top of this bottomless well. Drops here and there. Barely touching the litany in his head.
The one that can't stop reminding Danny how gorgeous Steve is. Like this. In the half light. Naked and relaxed. Or at work, with sleeves rolled up tight above his elbow, letting Danny see the muscles in his forearms flex and loosen in a way that is guaranteed to make him lose his mind, now.
When he's so hung up on the curve of Steve's mouth, and he'll never not be able to think about the things Steve has done with it, how it feels when Steve's breath gusts hot or gentle across his bare skin, shocking him like he'd been dropped in icy water.
Never won't know how different it is when Steve's fingers drag down his arm, instead of looping quickly at his wrist, letting go right away. Tugging everything else into a slow slide that's going to end with Danny in a pile at the foot of a cliff, and there's no helping it.
Not when he's looking up at Steve and he just can't even tear his eyes away, because, Christ, Steve is the most beautiful thing he knows, and it keeps hitting him, when he least expects it, sidelining him like a semi smashing into his skull.
It's screwing with his thoughts. It has to be. Because the words that drop out of his mouth are insane, something he should never say, never condone, or offer. Or challenge, if that's what this is.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-02 11:36 pm (UTC)Look. Surely Steve managed to function for years before he met Danny. Right? Okay, yeah. He was a loose cannon for a lot of those first months, and still is, but Danny likes to think that maybe Steve has grown. Mellowed, possibly. At least from those first moments, guns in each others' faces, twisting Danny's arm behind his back. Something he hasn't tried since, no matter how many times Danny gets up in his face, or yells at him, or tries to reason with him (usually a lost cause).
But then there are those days when it's like meeting Steve all over again. Like last week. When they were up here, but there were no smiles and there was no laughter, and Steve really didn't give a shit about marking up Danny's skin. Not in the way that makes him groan, or whimper. Like he was angry at it. Because he was angry at Danny. And Danny knows this is a thin and shaky line they walk, between Steve being like this and Steve being like that.
That. Nowhere near like this. When Steve is teasing, murmuring words into Danny's neck, making the skin there spark and shrink in reaction, making Danny bite down on one of those sounds Steve just referred to. The ones he said were obscene, which, Danny begs to disagree. They are not. It's not his fault that Steve drags them out of him, like he drags shakes and tremors and insanity. Like he drags all these ridiculous words that mean absolutely nothing, because they're all just skimming the top of this bottomless well. Drops here and there. Barely touching the litany in his head.
The one that can't stop reminding Danny how gorgeous Steve is. Like this. In the half light. Naked and relaxed. Or at work, with sleeves rolled up tight above his elbow, letting Danny see the muscles in his forearms flex and loosen in a way that is guaranteed to make him lose his mind, now.
When he's so hung up on the curve of Steve's mouth, and he'll never not be able to think about the things Steve has done with it, how it feels when Steve's breath gusts hot or gentle across his bare skin, shocking him like he'd been dropped in icy water.
Never won't know how different it is when Steve's fingers drag down his arm, instead of looping quickly at his wrist, letting go right away. Tugging everything else into a slow slide that's going to end with Danny in a pile at the foot of a cliff, and there's no helping it.
Not when he's looking up at Steve and he just can't even tear his eyes away, because, Christ, Steve is the most beautiful thing he knows, and it keeps hitting him, when he least expects it, sidelining him like a semi smashing into his skull.
It's screwing with his thoughts. It has to be. Because the words that drop out of his mouth are insane, something he should never say, never condone, or offer. Or challenge, if that's what this is.
"So then lose it. But don't blame me."