"Hey, I didn't pick the couch. That seems like a problem for someone else, not for me."
He fits. He fits just fine, because he is not approximately eighty percent larger than anyone should legally be allowed to be. He and this couch are old friends, and he's crashed here plenty of times, both when staying at the house and just on nights that were too late and too tiring and when the last damn thing he wanted was to go home to his crappy, empty, tiny apartment with a bed no more comfortable than this exact spot. "Are you trying to tell me you want to go someplace else? You have some kind of plan in mind? Because those of us who are not part giraffe are actually doing okay right here. Admittedly, I think I may actually have melded to the leather, here, we should have put down a blanket or something."
Still. His hand moves when Steve shifts, arm settling like a bar across Danny's chest. Like whatever he's saying, he doesn't want to get up, either, break apart this lazy peace that's settled over them and the room and the abused couch and their discarded clothes. Everything tossed aside without meaning, because who gives a damn, when no one is going to interrupt, there's no one here but Steve, and Steve is smiling, smug, like Danny's refusal to budge is really some sort of treat for him.
That hand curving over the round of his shoulder, down to the blue and green ink drawn in curving patterns over biceps, so, well, maybe he's not holding Steve down with at least one limb, anymore.
Steve. Blue eyes all heavy-lidded and happy, creased with a smile that's crooked and self-aware. Stirring a warm puddle in Danny's chest that has no business being stirred by an axe-crazy Navy SEAL with zero regard for personal safety or the structural integrity of private or public buildings. It's idiotic, finding Steve endearing. Tying himself into a knot on the curve of a smile. Fumbling in the dark for the sanity he seems to have dropped and can no longer find.
And apparently has little to no need of, anymore, considering the way his heart wants to hang itself on Steve's smile like a hat on a rack.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-18 03:36 am (UTC)He fits. He fits just fine, because he is not approximately eighty percent larger than anyone should legally be allowed to be. He and this couch are old friends, and he's crashed here plenty of times, both when staying at the house and just on nights that were too late and too tiring and when the last damn thing he wanted was to go home to his crappy, empty, tiny apartment with a bed no more comfortable than this exact spot. "Are you trying to tell me you want to go someplace else? You have some kind of plan in mind? Because those of us who are not part giraffe are actually doing okay right here. Admittedly, I think I may actually have melded to the leather, here, we should have put down a blanket or something."
Still. His hand moves when Steve shifts, arm settling like a bar across Danny's chest. Like whatever he's saying, he doesn't want to get up, either, break apart this lazy peace that's settled over them and the room and the abused couch and their discarded clothes. Everything tossed aside without meaning, because who gives a damn, when no one is going to interrupt, there's no one here but Steve, and Steve is smiling, smug, like Danny's refusal to budge is really some sort of treat for him.
That hand curving over the round of his shoulder, down to the blue and green ink drawn in curving patterns over biceps, so, well, maybe he's not holding Steve down with at least one limb, anymore.
Steve. Blue eyes all heavy-lidded and happy, creased with a smile that's crooked and self-aware. Stirring a warm puddle in Danny's chest that has no business being stirred by an axe-crazy Navy SEAL with zero regard for personal safety or the structural integrity of private or public buildings. It's idiotic, finding Steve endearing. Tying himself into a knot on the curve of a smile. Fumbling in the dark for the sanity he seems to have dropped and can no longer find.
And apparently has little to no need of, anymore, considering the way his heart wants to hang itself on Steve's smile like a hat on a rack.