It's impossible not to notice. Any reaction. Starting with the glance she takes at Steve as she smiling, saying hi to Danny, who has popped in out of nowhere. It's nice of him, she's thinking, to stop by, especially since this was just his weekend with his daughter, and she likes Danny, is glad to see him.
But not as glad as Steve is. Steve, who is smiling this helplessly brilliant smile that she's not sure she's ever seen on him before. Who looks suddenly like he can breathe again, like he'd just broken surface and can gulp in fresh air to lungs shrieking for it. She'd thought he was relaxed a second ago, but that's nothing to this, like he's been living in shadow all weekend and the sun finally rose, which makes her take another quick look at Danny, who is stumbling over an answer to her question and some apology that rings strangely painful.
Who isn't smiling. Whose eyes are trained on her, wide and surprised and alarm that isn't alarm so much as it is -- what, what is that? Who is looking like Steve actually pulled that piece at his hip and shot him in the gut. Like he's about to be sick. Before the door closes again after being open for the space of about five seconds, and he's gone.
Just as Steve makes an abrupt, cancelled motion, and she turns back to him, lips wanting to form a question, but then she sees his face and it's like turning a key. Sudden panic and desperation painted over what had been the best smile he'd given all weekend, every inch of him halted in mid-motion, like he's actually sprinting for the door but she'd managed to pause him like she can a movie, just before the spring.
Clues slotting together in her head. Everything he couldn't tell her. No name, no clue whether she knew who it was. Where that person was all weekend and why they weren't here, because that person was, is, Danny, and he had Grace, but he must have come immediately from dropping her off.
The raw look on Steve's face and the belated,reflexive way his name comes out, shortened, interrupted by the door, is all the confirmation she needs.
She's torn, momentarily, between reactions, but one wins out, the one he knew would, so he didn't tell her, but this, this is insane, this is so much worse than just reticence, it's actively damaging, to both of them. Moving on the couch cushion so she can get a better look at him, feeling the need to move, to do something, to smack him in the head and get him to think about what he's doing.
"Are you kidding me? What are you thinking, Steve?"
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-06 12:29 pm (UTC)But not as glad as Steve is. Steve, who is smiling this helplessly brilliant smile that she's not sure she's ever seen on him before. Who looks suddenly like he can breathe again, like he'd just broken surface and can gulp in fresh air to lungs shrieking for it. She'd thought he was relaxed a second ago, but that's nothing to this, like he's been living in shadow all weekend and the sun finally rose, which makes her take another quick look at Danny, who is stumbling over an answer to her question and some apology that rings strangely painful.
Who isn't smiling. Whose eyes are trained on her, wide and surprised and alarm that isn't alarm so much as it is -- what, what is that? Who is looking like Steve actually pulled that piece at his hip and shot him in the gut. Like he's about to be sick. Before the door closes again after being open for the space of about five seconds, and he's gone.
Just as Steve makes an abrupt, cancelled motion, and she turns back to him, lips wanting to form a question, but then she sees his face and it's like turning a key. Sudden panic and desperation painted over what had been the best smile he'd given all weekend, every inch of him halted in mid-motion, like he's actually sprinting for the door but she'd managed to pause him like she can a movie, just before the spring.
Clues slotting together in her head. Everything he couldn't tell her. No name, no clue whether she knew who it was. Where that person was all weekend and why they weren't here, because that person was, is, Danny, and he had Grace, but he must have come immediately from dropping her off.
The raw look on Steve's face and the belated,reflexive way his name comes out, shortened, interrupted by the door, is all the confirmation she needs.
She's torn, momentarily, between reactions, but one wins out, the one he knew would, so he didn't tell her, but this, this is insane, this is so much worse than just reticence, it's actively damaging, to both of them. Moving on the couch cushion so she can get a better look at him, feeling the need to move, to do something, to smack him in the head and get him to think about what he's doing.
"Are you kidding me? What are you thinking, Steve?"