His gaze flicks back to focused on her at her word. Uncertain when it had slipped exactly, or whether it had even. But he'd gotten lost in his head for a second. Focusing was probably better in the long run. Hands dropping into his pockets, when he really has nothing for the words that come after it. Because he doesn't have any idea.
It's nice that she's wishing it. He's not sure she actually would if she knew everything else. About it being Danny.
Which makes it harder to want to hold on to it, or admit any part of him want to. When it's just easier. To let his fingers sink into the loose long pockets of running shorts, brushing his badge-wallet and his phone, and just give her am rather patented shrug and nod. Like he'd be fine if it wasn't. Like there aren't hairline fractures somewhere that shiver and seize at the thought.
Like some part of him doesn't want to prove, just as much, that he'd be absolutely fine if, and even when, it happens.
But she gives him the grace of switching back to his earlier encouragement, which for a moment just leaves him only able to nod, again. Because it's almost too much to suddenly actually have her willing to walk off, right past when she dug her heels in. But his mouth catches up the second later, expression collected back in, serious and separate.
"Yeah, you can have it. Least I can do, right?" And maybe it's a little edged, but it tries to roll out as a joke. A too smooth smile being drug out, even when it does push away anything else real in his face either. Like getting the hot water first is some kind of compensation. Even if he won't be carry her up the stairs or following her to it.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-04 01:58 am (UTC)It's nice that she's wishing it. He's not sure she actually would if she knew everything else. About it being Danny.
Which makes it harder to want to hold on to it, or admit any part of him want to. When it's just easier. To let his fingers sink into the loose long pockets of running shorts, brushing his badge-wallet and his phone, and just give her am rather patented shrug and nod. Like he'd be fine if it wasn't. Like there aren't hairline fractures somewhere that shiver and seize at the thought.
Like some part of him doesn't want to prove, just as much, that he'd be absolutely fine if, and even when, it happens.
But she gives him the grace of switching back to his earlier encouragement, which for a moment just leaves him only able to nod, again. Because it's almost too much to suddenly actually have her willing to walk off, right past when she dug her heels in. But his mouth catches up the second later, expression collected back in, serious and separate.
"Yeah, you can have it. Least I can do, right?" And maybe it's a little edged, but it tries to roll out as a joke. A too smooth smile being drug out, even when it does push away anything else real in his face either. Like getting the hot water first is some kind of compensation. Even if he won't be carry her up the stairs or following her to it.