It's ridiculous how he suddenly realizes how tense he's been, once Steve's fingers slide across his palm. Like his muscles all jolt back into reality all at once, and the thing that makes Danny aware of the strain they'd been under is the sudden lack of it, now.
When he's already moving towards Steve, too, because it's one thing to say he's going to hold his ground and ask Steve to come to him, but it's impossible in practice, because he'll never leave Steve hanging, will always be right there with him, for whatever the world throws at them. Even if Steve had taken only one step, it would have been enough for Danny to take the rest of them.
As it is, Steve's moving towards him and Danny doesn't have far to go, fingers folding around that hand until Steve is close enough and it can let go, to find the side of his waist, mirroring the other one as it lifts, and thank God he put down that beer, because there is nothing like the feel of Steve under his hands. Even through this shirt. He's warm and lean muscle and thrumming blood, a five o'clock shadow smudging his cheeks and jaw, and he's still looking at Danny like, Christ, who knows. There's too much there to contain. A force like wind or gravity, knocking Danny over and pushing him back up and shoving him over a cliff edge, but onto a saving soft landing, even if it's not usually soft enough to not knock his breath out of his body.
But Steve came, without question or argument, like all Danny ever needed to do was ask, and that thing in his chest is making it hard to breathe, aching and impossible. Too big for Danny. Threatening to spill out everywhere, messy and longing and hopeful.
And there are still things he should ask, should know. Tonight is a prime example of why they should clarify this, because Danny's lost without a map, and God only knows where Steve is or what he wants, but right now the only thing he wants in this world is to press close and warm and certain and kiss Steve. Without making a point. Without making an argument. Just to be able to feel his breath caught for a new reason, and because Steve came.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-09 03:23 am (UTC)When he's already moving towards Steve, too, because it's one thing to say he's going to hold his ground and ask Steve to come to him, but it's impossible in practice, because he'll never leave Steve hanging, will always be right there with him, for whatever the world throws at them. Even if Steve had taken only one step, it would have been enough for Danny to take the rest of them.
As it is, Steve's moving towards him and Danny doesn't have far to go, fingers folding around that hand until Steve is close enough and it can let go, to find the side of his waist, mirroring the other one as it lifts, and thank God he put down that beer, because there is nothing like the feel of Steve under his hands. Even through this shirt. He's warm and lean muscle and thrumming blood, a five o'clock shadow smudging his cheeks and jaw, and he's still looking at Danny like, Christ, who knows. There's too much there to contain. A force like wind or gravity, knocking Danny over and pushing him back up and shoving him over a cliff edge, but onto a saving soft landing, even if it's not usually soft enough to not knock his breath out of his body.
But Steve came, without question or argument, like all Danny ever needed to do was ask, and that thing in his chest is making it hard to breathe, aching and impossible. Too big for Danny. Threatening to spill out everywhere, messy and longing and hopeful.
And there are still things he should ask, should know. Tonight is a prime example of why they should clarify this, because Danny's lost without a map, and God only knows where Steve is or what he wants, but right now the only thing he wants in this world is to press close and warm and certain and kiss Steve. Without making a point. Without making an argument. Just to be able to feel his breath caught for a new reason, and because Steve came.