Steve mouth was turning toward a goofy smirk at Danny's words, somehow slamming into that warmth in the center. Because as outlandish as it sounded, even so annoyed on Danny's lips, when his hands are clutching and he sounds like he's just beginning to be riled up, by this moving and talking, it's true, too. Even if Steve would say pushed more than drug.
But he did get Danny on his couch, and tell him to lose all his clothes, and he did, and some part of his brain really must be gone because there's something in all of that which can't keep from spilling out across his face awed and arrogant all in one flush wash of features. Especially when Danny begins to complain about his moving. Fingers pulling at his shoulder to keep him from moving, and putting any more space between their chests.
Like no one's chosen to note Steve's legs are still wrapped by Danny's. That standing wouldn't be an epic feat, but it would definitely take effort, and cause a lot more complaining that the complaining happening at this second while Danny is looking up at him. Blinking bleary blue eyes, and starting the edges of frown lines, pulling him back with a force and that faint beleaguered annoyance in his voice starting. Like Steve is the worst person in the world to have to put up with.
Which shouldn't keep him smirking or smiling. But it does. So much, like it's painting itself on Steve's skin.
One arm tracking in to rest on Danny's chest, as his eyebrows raised. "Maybe you missed the part where we don't fit here."
Well. Danny kind of did. Actually did. Because he had. Slept here several times. Several nights of weeks back in the past. When Steve would walk as quickly by his sleeping form as he could manage lest thoughts of anything like this, or anything else. Even that persistent, annoying, unlabeled ache cause him to stand still longer than a second. But Steve didn't. Steve didn't fit on this couch alone.
Not that it stopped him. From this, in past or the present, or from napping on it from time to time.
Or poking Danny about, while wigging a little as though it would help emphasize the point.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-18 03:04 am (UTC)But he did get Danny on his couch, and tell him to lose all his clothes, and he did, and some part of his brain really must be gone because there's something in all of that which can't keep from spilling out across his face awed and arrogant all in one flush wash of features. Especially when Danny begins to complain about his moving. Fingers pulling at his shoulder to keep him from moving, and putting any more space between their chests.
Like no one's chosen to note Steve's legs are still wrapped by Danny's. That standing wouldn't be an epic feat, but it would definitely take effort, and cause a lot more complaining that the complaining happening at this second while Danny is looking up at him. Blinking bleary blue eyes, and starting the edges of frown lines, pulling him back with a force and that faint beleaguered annoyance in his voice starting. Like Steve is the worst person in the world to have to put up with.
Which shouldn't keep him smirking or smiling. But it does. So much, like it's painting itself on Steve's skin.
One arm tracking in to rest on Danny's chest, as his eyebrows raised. "Maybe you missed the part where we don't fit here."
Well. Danny kind of did. Actually did. Because he had. Slept here several times. Several nights of weeks back in the past. When Steve would walk as quickly by his sleeping form as he could manage lest thoughts of anything like this, or anything else. Even that persistent, annoying, unlabeled ache cause him to stand still longer than a second. But Steve didn't. Steve didn't fit on this couch alone.
Not that it stopped him. From this, in past or the present, or from napping on it from time to time.
Or poking Danny about, while wigging a little as though it would help emphasize the point.