As if it isn't obvious. As if he hasn't been saying so since the first day. In words, touches, looks. The way every now and again he honestly can't take his eyes off Steve, even when he's not doing anything particularly interesting. Even if he's just sitting at his desk, or on his couch, or driving the car, or drinking a beer or one of those horrifying green shakes he's so fond of.
Snagged on him. Stopped dead in the middle of whatever he was saying or doing to wonder what the hell is wrong with the way he thought the world works, that he somehow gets this. Gets Steve. No matter how soon or how ugly the end might be, he has him, right now. In bed. Whispering that words into his ear, with absolute confidence. So fucking beautiful it takes Danny's breath away, which is a lot more appealing in movies and music than it in real life, when it means a sudden sharp crack in his chest, the inability to catch any air at all.
Not that it matters, when Steve just steals it again.
Or when Danny tips his head to the side, and drags Steve back up from his ear to find his mouth, because he's sick of talking. Yes. Even him. There are times. Times to swallow words he's already got lining up to be let out, because Steve is a lunatic and it's dangerous to give him too much free rein, but at this point, the car is already sailing off the cliff, so he might as well go ahead and set it on fire.
no subject
As if it isn't obvious. As if he hasn't been saying so since the first day. In words, touches, looks. The way every now and again he honestly can't take his eyes off Steve, even when he's not doing anything particularly interesting. Even if he's just sitting at his desk, or on his couch, or driving the car, or drinking a beer or one of those horrifying green shakes he's so fond of.
Snagged on him. Stopped dead in the middle of whatever he was saying or doing to wonder what the hell is wrong with the way he thought the world works, that he somehow gets this. Gets Steve. No matter how soon or how ugly the end might be, he has him, right now. In bed. Whispering that words into his ear, with absolute confidence. So fucking beautiful it takes Danny's breath away, which is a lot more appealing in movies and music than it in real life, when it means a sudden sharp crack in his chest, the inability to catch any air at all.
Not that it matters, when Steve just steals it again.
Or when Danny tips his head to the side, and drags Steve back up from his ear to find his mouth, because he's sick of talking. Yes. Even him. There are times. Times to swallow words he's already got lining up to be let out, because Steve is a lunatic and it's dangerous to give him too much free rein, but at this point, the car is already sailing off the cliff, so he might as well go ahead and set it on fire.