He won't really be able to move around like this. It isn't that he's pinned. There are at least three or four different ways he could flip Danny off of him from right here, with only the leverage of a hand on the back of the couch. But he won't. And it's not all that bad, honestly. Danny laid out, figuring out where to balance, how to fit himself on the couch. The fact Danny probably would fit on this couch, while Steve is akimbo and overflowing on it when he's by himself, even falling asleep during a game.
Heavy warmth spreading over his chest as the faint whispers of discomfort fade from lack of attention, or from easy inundation. From the feel of Danny spread across him, almost like the blanket or a roll of heavy, heavy fog. Fingers finding their way to making sure all of him is still there, under Danny, in the right places. Across his shoulder, briefly brushing his bicep as it flees to run toward part of his chest. The way it continues to make him push-up, surging just a little up against that roaming touch.
The way it remakes his skin, grounds him back here. Not drifting away as everything else. Keeping him here, even if the rest of it fades a little. The thoughts, the walls in the rooms around him, the couch. On that crazy bright smile, like Danny thinks he's insane for the comment. And maybe he is. There isn't a chance in all the hells out there Danny has the smallest clue, now, what the hell just came out of his mouth.
The smile is so great, like his fingers, tracing down muscles in Danny's back can almost be touching that smile.
"Your weekend with Grace," Steve prompts, mouth warm and wide, smile turning cocky. Like he's proven he can think more than Danny. Remember more than Danny. Has muddled Danny's head more than Danny has done his. "You never said how it was."
Because good might have squeaked out in that moment of shock and terror tearing apart Danny first few seconds. One swallowed word, before he was gone, was not a answer from Danny. Steve didn't care at all that it had made sound, and from him it might even be a full answer. One word was never an answer from Danny Williams, and Steve wanted more of those. It was easier when he was going on.
Maybe it's a distraction. Even from something about Danny, himself. Danny's storm of words often are. Even from himself. But the question is honest, too. And he does wonder and want to know. How Grace is, whether there was an aquarium, if she knows about Rachel n' Stan, how she got him into the jeans and whether he can make that happen again under some kind of possible, similar circumstances.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-10 04:36 pm (UTC)Heavy warmth spreading over his chest as the faint whispers of discomfort fade from lack of attention, or from easy inundation. From the feel of Danny spread across him, almost like the blanket or a roll of heavy, heavy fog. Fingers finding their way to making sure all of him is still there, under Danny, in the right places. Across his shoulder, briefly brushing his bicep as it flees to run toward part of his chest. The way it continues to make him push-up, surging just a little up against that roaming touch.
The way it remakes his skin, grounds him back here. Not drifting away as everything else. Keeping him here, even if the rest of it fades a little. The thoughts, the walls in the rooms around him, the couch. On that crazy bright smile, like Danny thinks he's insane for the comment. And maybe he is. There isn't a chance in all the hells out there Danny has the smallest clue, now, what the hell just came out of his mouth.
The smile is so great, like his fingers, tracing down muscles in Danny's back can almost be touching that smile.
"Your weekend with Grace," Steve prompts, mouth warm and wide, smile turning cocky. Like he's proven he can think more than Danny. Remember more than Danny. Has muddled Danny's head more than Danny has done his. "You never said how it was."
Because good might have squeaked out in that moment of shock and terror tearing apart Danny first few seconds. One swallowed word, before he was gone, was not a answer from Danny. Steve didn't care at all that it had made sound, and from him it might even be a full answer. One word was never an answer from Danny Williams, and Steve wanted more of those. It was easier when he was going on.
Maybe it's a distraction. Even from something about Danny, himself. Danny's storm of words often are. Even from himself. But the question is honest, too. And he does wonder and want to know. How Grace is, whether there was an aquarium, if she knows about Rachel n' Stan, how she got him into the jeans and whether he can make that happen again under some kind of possible, similar circumstances.