Threaded thin, edged with a desperate whine at the press of Steve against him, fever-hot between bellies, burning away any last resorts, any single final ability to think clearly, or at all.
What is there to think about? It's Steve. Who he trusts. Who he stayed for. Who has given him more than Danny has ever deserved out of a job or the miserable life he'd planned for himself here.
He doesn't want to have to admit it, okay, not all the way, is still holding up the battered shield of attitude and insult, but, Christ, Steve, muffled against Steve's neck as Danny curls up into him. Shaking hard with muscle contraction, and something else. Something huge, swallowing him up, which is how it must have felt for Jonah with that whale, right?
"What I said was." Low, tilting crazily towards dangerous, or dark, a confused smoke of amusement. "You are unfair, okay, there should be rules against you, how was I supposed to know you were going to fight dirty."
Which is how Steve always fights, but he didn't know he was this time, so Danny really shouldn't blame him, but Danny does. Being the kind of upstanding, lunatic, super-human, whackjob of a supremely incredible human being he is, how the hell was Danny supposed to fight back, huh? Him and his smile and his blue eyes and the way he cares about everything and everyone, how he has to save the world, which is too much, McGarrett, but he does it anyway. And then turns around and is so surprised at each and every offer to be kind to him that Danny's heart trips all over itself and splats facedown on the sidewalk.
And it's really aggravating, all right. Danny had no say in this (he can't imagine not choosing it, but that is not the point). He's already lost.
With no chance. Not one, ever. Not now. Not once there's awareness. Now he knows.
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Threaded thin, edged with a desperate whine at the press of Steve against him, fever-hot between bellies, burning away any last resorts, any single final ability to think clearly, or at all.
What is there to think about? It's Steve. Who he trusts. Who he stayed for. Who has given him more than Danny has ever deserved out of a job or the miserable life he'd planned for himself here.
He doesn't want to have to admit it, okay, not all the way, is still holding up the battered shield of attitude and insult, but, Christ, Steve, muffled against Steve's neck as Danny curls up into him. Shaking hard with muscle contraction, and something else. Something huge, swallowing him up, which is how it must have felt for Jonah with that whale, right?
"What I said was." Low, tilting crazily towards dangerous, or dark, a confused smoke of amusement. "You are unfair, okay, there should be rules against you, how was I supposed to know you were going to fight dirty."
Which is how Steve always fights, but he didn't know he was this time, so Danny really shouldn't blame him, but Danny does. Being the kind of upstanding, lunatic, super-human, whackjob of a supremely incredible human being he is, how the hell was Danny supposed to fight back, huh? Him and his smile and his blue eyes and the way he cares about everything and everyone, how he has to save the world, which is too much, McGarrett, but he does it anyway. And then turns around and is so surprised at each and every offer to be kind to him that Danny's heart trips all over itself and splats facedown on the sidewalk.
And it's really aggravating, all right. Danny had no say in this (he can't imagine not choosing it, but that is not the point). He's already lost.
With no chance. Not one, ever. Not now. Not once there's awareness. Now he knows.