Danny goes rigid, just a little more, Steve can feel it under the fingertips blunting themselves into Danny's shoulders and the back of his biceps, tops of the backs of shoulders. Before he's distracted. With the way Danny swallows, and suddenly he's looking at him. Danny is. Blinking a little and focusing, like maybe somehow he hasn't even been real the last minute.
When things are moving faster than Steve can label them in that blue. A weary desperation that he can't even pinpoint whether is a struggling birth of belief or need for that all, every one of his words, to have been a lie. When he seems to be regaining breathing and maybe seeing any part of the world. And Steve can't even listen to the part of his brain telling telling him they've already stepped off that cliff they're avoiding, and are hurtling in free-fall.
He can't hear anything except the slow, rusty words that leave Danny's throat. Real, but so small it's like he should be able to pick them up off the ground and hold all four, with a massive expanse of room still left, in the palm of his hand. When Danny's voice is in the wind, but it sounds real. The disbelief. The shaky want for belief.
When Steve lessens his grip on Danny's shoulders, but can't seem to make himself let go yet.
Even if Cath might be watching them through the blinds in the living room. Along with the rest of the world.
He just can't let go. Especially if he can't step in. Can't move his hands and capture the sides of his face, fingers in his hair, and just kiss all of this away, like it could. Like it could be. If he wasn't so aware of everything. Everyone. The bright lights. That don't matter. He's not looking away, mouth pursing a moment. Tongue at his bottom lip, trying to find words. Still stinging on several others said, and so not.
"Because right now this seems like such a great reason not to be?" Because there isn't. He couldn't. He'd never. He didn't. Because even at this second. When he really doesn't even stop the slightly sharper edge to his words. Meaning it, and filling a swoop as gravity sets in, without one drop, only one, of painful relief, while the rest is not yet. "Of course, I am."
He hasn't treated this anything but seriously, even if Danny's been gone and busy the whole weekend with other priorities.
It's the first time he's had. With another person in the room he couldn't detail to a job in another room or give half a day off to.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-06 08:08 pm (UTC)When things are moving faster than Steve can label them in that blue. A weary desperation that he can't even pinpoint whether is a struggling birth of belief or need for that all, every one of his words, to have been a lie. When he seems to be regaining breathing and maybe seeing any part of the world. And Steve can't even listen to the part of his brain telling telling him they've already stepped off that cliff they're avoiding, and are hurtling in free-fall.
He can't hear anything except the slow, rusty words that leave Danny's throat. Real, but so small it's like he should be able to pick them up off the ground and hold all four, with a massive expanse of room still left, in the palm of his hand. When Danny's voice is in the wind, but it sounds real. The disbelief. The shaky want for belief.
When Steve lessens his grip on Danny's shoulders, but can't seem to make himself let go yet.
Even if Cath might be watching them through the blinds in the living room. Along with the rest of the world.
He just can't let go. Especially if he can't step in. Can't move his hands and capture the sides of his face, fingers in his hair, and just kiss all of this away, like it could. Like it could be. If he wasn't so aware of everything. Everyone. The bright lights. That don't matter. He's not looking away, mouth pursing a moment. Tongue at his bottom lip, trying to find words. Still stinging on several others said, and so not.
"Because right now this seems like such a great reason not to be?" Because there isn't. He couldn't. He'd never. He didn't. Because even at this second. When he really doesn't even stop the slightly sharper edge to his words. Meaning it, and filling a swoop as gravity sets in, without one drop, only one, of painful relief, while the rest is not yet. "Of course, I am."
He hasn't treated this anything but seriously, even if Danny's been gone and busy the whole weekend with other priorities.
It's the first time he's had. With another person in the room he couldn't detail to a job in another room or give half a day off to.