Close, that is almost not close enough. Not when he said those words, and he has to leave them there. Uncertain of where they will go, and whether they even are entirely understood, especially if he's going to make a joke near them. Right after Danny calling him on that for Danny's words. But something about the warmth of Danny being this close, makes him hope.
That Danny gets it. At least some of it. Maybe at least as much as Steve does, which might not be truly an amazing amount, but he's been living with it here, in his head, under his skin, for so long that whether it was setting him on fire, making him want to scrub his skin off with a wire brush, or blow through any number of rules personal or professional to help Danny in a bind or in a relationship, that it just is. It almost feel like it always has been. Almost.
Not always. Steve knows that in the bare flicks of vision he's seeing of the rest of the room, over Danny's head, fingers in his pocket. Things that would not stand or react to a yelling contest, inanimate objects and so many memories that cannot be touched, except to be more and more tainted. That he could not run from this, from Danny, or let it run from him, doesn't mean he's ready to think about anything else that way.
Especially when there are fingers dipping into the low vulnerable small of his back, his spine. Fingers finding their way across the fabric of his loose shirt, like they need to map him. Both known, and unknown, like it needs to be felt, again, retraced to make sure it hasn't changed. Even if it hasn't. Even if it's only been a little less than two days.
"I like them." Is a little more hollow than he expected, because he'd been testing putting his fingers into pockets, silly and small and almost a distraction from the huge letters and words standing right behind his beyond, inside his eyes, still loud against his heart beat and breath, still echoing here. Still not quite sure what might happen to them, or him, or Danny with them.
But he hadn't expects that puff of hot breath on his neck that turned his skin electric in a less than a second. Or the lips that followed. Gently, smooth, warm, tracing against his skin, making his torso shiver, and his hands grip in slightly with those fingers against Danny and rough denim. Trying to still make out the words, he'd been trying to make follow out the other ones, seconds ago.
"Grace probably did, too." His eyes are half closed and everything inside the quickening pound of his blood isn't certain maybe what his mouth is doing, because the rest of it is frozen against that feeling. Warm, like waves pouring onto him from Danny. Not wanting it to stop. Like the other side of it might be more yelling and neither of thinking the other understand, or that they both understand too much.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-09 02:22 pm (UTC)That Danny gets it. At least some of it. Maybe at least as much as Steve does, which might not be truly an amazing amount, but he's been living with it here, in his head, under his skin, for so long that whether it was setting him on fire, making him want to scrub his skin off with a wire brush, or blow through any number of rules personal or professional to help Danny in a bind or in a relationship, that it just is. It almost feel like it always has been. Almost.
Not always. Steve knows that in the bare flicks of vision he's seeing of the rest of the room, over Danny's head, fingers in his pocket. Things that would not stand or react to a yelling contest, inanimate objects and so many memories that cannot be touched, except to be more and more tainted. That he could not run from this, from Danny, or let it run from him, doesn't mean he's ready to think about anything else that way.
Especially when there are fingers dipping into the low vulnerable small of his back, his spine. Fingers finding their way across the fabric of his loose shirt, like they need to map him. Both known, and unknown, like it needs to be felt, again, retraced to make sure it hasn't changed. Even if it hasn't. Even if it's only been a little less than two days.
"I like them." Is a little more hollow than he expected, because he'd been testing putting his fingers into pockets, silly and small and almost a distraction from the huge letters and words standing right behind his beyond, inside his eyes, still loud against his heart beat and breath, still echoing here. Still not quite sure what might happen to them, or him, or Danny with them.
But he hadn't expects that puff of hot breath on his neck that turned his skin electric in a less than a second. Or the lips that followed. Gently, smooth, warm, tracing against his skin, making his torso shiver, and his hands grip in slightly with those fingers against Danny and rough denim. Trying to still make out the words, he'd been trying to make follow out the other ones, seconds ago.
"Grace probably did, too." His eyes are half closed and everything inside the quickening pound of his blood isn't certain maybe what his mouth is doing, because the rest of it is frozen against that feeling. Warm, like waves pouring onto him from Danny. Not wanting it to stop. Like the other side of it might be more yelling and neither of thinking the other understand, or that they both understand too much.