He doesn't understand how this happened. Doesn't get how those words could be true. Only you. No one else.
But they seem to be. And even if words lie, even if he doesn't trust them, throws them like pennies even when it's absolutely necessary that he find and choose the right ones, words are one thing. This, Steve's face, that stark clear certainty there, that is something he believes.
Because Steve can't hide this for shit. Sure. He can run a con, a strategic op. Can mask everything under the SEAL, the soldier. Shoves it all back behind grim eyes and a squared jaw and the upraised barrel of a gun.
But he can't hide this, now. Here. When his eyes are so full, so clear that they almost stop Danny dead to rights, unable to do anything but be caught, his hands warm on either side of Steve's head, palms brushing against his jaw, fingers in his hair. Shifting lungs, heart, every necessary organ in his chest three feet to the right and hollowing out the rest of him. Just looking at him is threatening to undo Danny completely, is unlocking padlocks and safes he hadn't even realized were still stored back there, shoved so deeply away he'd managed to pretend they weren't there at all. Slamming open doors and lifting windows. Pouring light straight into the lonely boxed-up room Danny's been living in since the divorce.
And it's shining all over him. Steve. Looking like he's been smacked in the face with a cloud, in a way that makes Danny smile, baffled and delighted all at once. Just because. It's a good look. And he is so beautiful. Staring up at him like he's never seen Danny before. Or like the rest of the world has just evaporated and Steve couldn't care less.
Which is sort of the page Danny's on, when fingers sink into his hair, and Steve's lips are parting under his, nudging a tiny, soft, bewilderingly longing sound from his chest. Because Steve wants him, and that's crazy, but Danny wants Steve, wants Steve more than he's ever wanted anything for himself in his life, and it is so selfish, because it leads to things like Steve getting angry with him and blocking the door, or him over-reacting, leads to arguments and something that is anything but simple, or easy. When Steve has lost so much in his life, and the thought of being one more thing freezes Danny's heart in his chest, strikes up panicked disagreement, denial.
He never wants to see the face Steve was wearing, hurrying out into the dark after him. Like he'd run off a cliff to keep Danny from falling alone, but all Danny wants is for him to just stay here.
But right now, it is simple. It is easy. When Steve is pulling them both towards him, and Danny follows, because he's helpless to do anything else. Following that kiss down, shifting carefully on the couch, easing his knee into an angle that won't scream at him. One hand moving, carefully, to palm the side of Steve's neck, fingers light over the shell of his ear. And it's different, this kiss. There's deliberation that's scraping the bottom of his chest and leaving it raw and sore. As perfectly defined as those five words. Like Steve is still trying to say them, or something else.
But what he's doing is slowly filling Danny's skin with light. The golden, long, low-laying beams of sunset. Calm and perfect. Sweet in unexpected ways. And Danny could stay here what feels like forever. Kissing Steve like this, falling into it. Handing himself out to Steve, in a quieter sort of way. Giving him, his mouth, his skin, body and anything else he can touch, the sort of awed, fervent attention he deserves. Like prayer, except this. This is something he can believe in.
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But they seem to be. And even if words lie, even if he doesn't trust them, throws them like pennies even when it's absolutely necessary that he find and choose the right ones, words are one thing. This, Steve's face, that stark clear certainty there, that is something he believes.
Because Steve can't hide this for shit. Sure. He can run a con, a strategic op. Can mask everything under the SEAL, the soldier. Shoves it all back behind grim eyes and a squared jaw and the upraised barrel of a gun.
But he can't hide this, now. Here. When his eyes are so full, so clear that they almost stop Danny dead to rights, unable to do anything but be caught, his hands warm on either side of Steve's head, palms brushing against his jaw, fingers in his hair. Shifting lungs, heart, every necessary organ in his chest three feet to the right and hollowing out the rest of him. Just looking at him is threatening to undo Danny completely, is unlocking padlocks and safes he hadn't even realized were still stored back there, shoved so deeply away he'd managed to pretend they weren't there at all. Slamming open doors and lifting windows. Pouring light straight into the lonely boxed-up room Danny's been living in since the divorce.
And it's shining all over him. Steve. Looking like he's been smacked in the face with a cloud, in a way that makes Danny smile, baffled and delighted all at once. Just because. It's a good look. And he is so beautiful. Staring up at him like he's never seen Danny before. Or like the rest of the world has just evaporated and Steve couldn't care less.
Which is sort of the page Danny's on, when fingers sink into his hair, and Steve's lips are parting under his, nudging a tiny, soft, bewilderingly longing sound from his chest. Because Steve wants him, and that's crazy, but Danny wants Steve, wants Steve more than he's ever wanted anything for himself in his life, and it is so selfish, because it leads to things like Steve getting angry with him and blocking the door, or him over-reacting, leads to arguments and something that is anything but simple, or easy. When Steve has lost so much in his life, and the thought of being one more thing freezes Danny's heart in his chest, strikes up panicked disagreement, denial.
He never wants to see the face Steve was wearing, hurrying out into the dark after him. Like he'd run off a cliff to keep Danny from falling alone, but all Danny wants is for him to just stay here.
But right now, it is simple. It is easy. When Steve is pulling them both towards him, and Danny follows, because he's helpless to do anything else. Following that kiss down, shifting carefully on the couch, easing his knee into an angle that won't scream at him. One hand moving, carefully, to palm the side of Steve's neck, fingers light over the shell of his ear. And it's different, this kiss. There's deliberation that's scraping the bottom of his chest and leaving it raw and sore. As perfectly defined as those five words. Like Steve is still trying to say them, or something else.
But what he's doing is slowly filling Danny's skin with light. The golden, long, low-laying beams of sunset. Calm and perfect. Sweet in unexpected ways. And Danny could stay here what feels like forever. Kissing Steve like this, falling into it. Handing himself out to Steve, in a quieter sort of way. Giving him, his mouth, his skin, body and anything else he can touch, the sort of awed, fervent attention he deserves. Like prayer, except this. This is something he can believe in.