What is he supposed to do with this man? Seriously.
This man, with his too blue eyes and insane touchiness about his hair, and his shoes, not to mention miranda rights and human rights, the one who screams blood murder at the drop of a hat or even someone forgetting to drop the hat, and hates agreeing with anyone, hates paradise, who makes that tiny piece of grit that got stuck in Steve's throat trying to admit anything, about everything he is beyond those, everything Steve can never forget, never not see, never not be blown away by, and shift it into a boulder the size of the bed, clogging up his throat, with the smallest handful of words, tacked on at the end, like some forgotten detail.
The hearing of which somehow wasn't actually supposed to eradicate all of the air left in Steve's chest.
That makes something flare dangerous bright and tight, aching, near the bottom of his lungs
How it is, such an effort, an epic feat, shoving it down, not letting it bubble up.
Pulling on anything else but that. Leaning down toward kissing Danny with a sarcastic sort of snort. Amused, but blowing it off. "Just so long as you know that's not going to be forgotten."
"Danny Williams--" Punctuated with kissing him short and fast, or well. Maybe meaning to, but still getting caught up on his mouth, on the burn coating his stomach muscles in a refusal to be closet away. Even when he's pulling back to finish. Smart mouthed and crowing. "--admitting to surrendering first."
Like Steve hadn't beat that out. Hadn't fallen before. Or yet. Definitely not every single time he'd pulled anyone else close, and smothered that feeling growing in him, even if it only ever lasted for seconds or minute, if even really that long. Certainly not every time he pretended it wasn't there and supported Danny through everything, everyone, else. Not once, not nightly, not in the black.
Not Steve McGarrett. Never give in, never say die. Maybe it's why there aren't words. Maybe it's why he has to be kissing him now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-05 07:58 pm (UTC)This man, with his too blue eyes and insane touchiness about his hair, and his shoes, not to mention miranda rights and human rights, the one who screams blood murder at the drop of a hat or even someone forgetting to drop the hat, and hates agreeing with anyone, hates paradise, who makes that tiny piece of grit that got stuck in Steve's throat trying to admit anything, about everything he is beyond those, everything Steve can never forget, never not see, never not be blown away by, and shift it into a boulder the size of the bed, clogging up his throat, with the smallest handful of words, tacked on at the end, like some forgotten detail.
The hearing of which somehow wasn't actually supposed to eradicate all of the air left in Steve's chest.
That makes something flare dangerous bright and tight, aching, near the bottom of his lungs
How it is, such an effort, an epic feat, shoving it down, not letting it bubble up.
Pulling on anything else but that. Leaning down toward kissing Danny with a sarcastic sort of snort. Amused, but blowing it off. "Just so long as you know that's not going to be forgotten."
"Danny Williams--" Punctuated with kissing him short and fast, or well. Maybe meaning to, but still getting caught up on his mouth, on the burn coating his stomach muscles in a refusal to be closet away. Even when he's pulling back to finish. Smart mouthed and crowing. "--admitting to surrendering first."
Like Steve hadn't beat that out. Hadn't fallen before. Or yet. Definitely not every single time he'd pulled anyone else close, and smothered that feeling growing in him, even if it only ever lasted for seconds or minute, if even really that long. Certainly not every time he pretended it wasn't there and supported Danny through everything, everyone, else. Not once, not nightly, not in the black.
Not Steve McGarrett. Never give in, never say die. Maybe it's why there aren't words. Maybe it's why he has to be kissing him now.