The edges of his lips pull up, a horrible hollow smile that's swallowing the horrible hollow feeling in his chest. One hand reaching up, thumbnail scraping lightly just above an eyebrow, leaning back on his heels, glancing away to point that smile and disbelief somewhere else, to some invisible person in on the bad joke that is his life. "Okay."
Hand moving back down, slipping into the too-tight pockets of his jeans, what was he thinking, jeans, his fingers are too square and thick to fit comfortably and it leaves his wrists torqued at too-sharp angles, fingers digging into the pockets up to the second joint.
Because it's almost laughable. Nothing happening. He's not sure he even knows what nothing might be, where the line gets drawn. When Steve had offered to let this, whatever it is, was, be simple. That it could be. Easy. Simple. Forgotten, if needed.
Except it can't, because Danny can't, so he probably should have made something up that first day and let Steve think he was over-reacting about something meaningless and left it at that, because at least he wouldn't be here, now, feeling like a gutted fish.
But it has, literally, never been nothing with Cath. Not since Danny's known him, and noticed that Cath is the only constant in his life. Away for long periods of time, but always back in the end. The idea that there was nothing this weekend -- and how long as she been here? Did Steve call her or did she just show up? -- is preposterous. And he should have figured. Did, even. Hearing her name in the car the other day. Knowing she's back on the island. Just like he should have figured that Rachel picked Stan once, so she would again. A year in Hawaii didn't magically change him into a better option.
Steve has picked Cath dozens of times. It only makes sense.
But Steve is saying nothing anyway, so Danny, from that bizarre floating place, agrees, and he's not even sure it's disbelief or sarcasm. It just is. He can accept it. He just needs to haul his head and heart and lungs and stomach back into place long enough to get through the hours until work, when the badge will do the rest.
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Hand moving back down, slipping into the too-tight pockets of his jeans, what was he thinking, jeans, his fingers are too square and thick to fit comfortably and it leaves his wrists torqued at too-sharp angles, fingers digging into the pockets up to the second joint.
Because it's almost laughable. Nothing happening. He's not sure he even knows what nothing might be, where the line gets drawn. When Steve had offered to let this, whatever it is, was, be simple. That it could be. Easy. Simple. Forgotten, if needed.
Except it can't, because Danny can't, so he probably should have made something up that first day and let Steve think he was over-reacting about something meaningless and left it at that, because at least he wouldn't be here, now, feeling like a gutted fish.
But it has, literally, never been nothing with Cath. Not since Danny's known him, and noticed that Cath is the only constant in his life. Away for long periods of time, but always back in the end. The idea that there was nothing this weekend -- and how long as she been here? Did Steve call her or did she just show up? -- is preposterous. And he should have figured. Did, even. Hearing her name in the car the other day. Knowing she's back on the island. Just like he should have figured that Rachel picked Stan once, so she would again. A year in Hawaii didn't magically change him into a better option.
Steve has picked Cath dozens of times. It only makes sense.
But Steve is saying nothing anyway, so Danny, from that bizarre floating place, agrees, and he's not even sure it's disbelief or sarcasm. It just is. He can accept it. He just needs to haul his head and heart and lungs and stomach back into place long enough to get through the hours until work, when the badge will do the rest.