Danny is rambling while his hands moves down across Steve's shoulder and into his arm, half his attention following the words and half following that hand. His hand, warm, heavy fingers and palm filled with lead, and every other place Danny is still touching him, still wrapped around, still not one iota really toward looking like he's about to let go or give Steve back his own body, and maybe he really doesn't hate that. Even if the cost is be uncomfortable.
His own muscles are still heavy, like they're water logged, except the water is cement. He knows he could move. He could be keep moving like he did a second ago. The ability to move is already well awake and aware in his head, in his skin. But he's clinging a little to this, even when his head is populating with ideas even as Danny is rambling onward about his being overwhelmingly tall. Like he's somehow unaware of it. Draped all over Danny.
"You damage my couch removing yourself from it and you're going to have to fix it," Steve said, eyebrows pointing a little more. His voice, too. But there is nothing but wide space and light in his eyes. Watching Danny ramble, rant, start moving, still clinging to him. Yeah. Okay. It's not the worst thing in the world. Which is maybe why he moves, settling like he's trying to stretch more space into the couch.
He can't really stretch out across it, even all that marginally, when Danny is under him, all around him and he's facing downward, keeping even his calves from hanging off. "There's always the bed." Steve says it slow, like he's having to rectify it with being mid-evening only or having to drag it out from some long forsaken corner of his head. Like he doesn't have every single second cataloged somewhere. At least the ones like this.
"At least I'm pretty sure someone-" Emphasize with a wider slide of a his smile. "-keeps reminding that I keep one of those around here somewhere." He tilted his head, maybe something a little more testing dropping in the smallest amount. "Unless you have other plans?" Which could be ideas, or it could be what it is. Sort of, a run by on whether Danny is planning on leaving sometime soon.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-18 04:02 am (UTC)His own muscles are still heavy, like they're water logged, except the water is cement. He knows he could move. He could be keep moving like he did a second ago. The ability to move is already well awake and aware in his head, in his skin. But he's clinging a little to this, even when his head is populating with ideas even as Danny is rambling onward about his being overwhelmingly tall. Like he's somehow unaware of it. Draped all over Danny.
"You damage my couch removing yourself from it and you're going to have to fix it," Steve said, eyebrows pointing a little more. His voice, too. But there is nothing but wide space and light in his eyes. Watching Danny ramble, rant, start moving, still clinging to him. Yeah. Okay. It's not the worst thing in the world. Which is maybe why he moves, settling like he's trying to stretch more space into the couch.
He can't really stretch out across it, even all that marginally, when Danny is under him, all around him and he's facing downward, keeping even his calves from hanging off. "There's always the bed." Steve says it slow, like he's having to rectify it with being mid-evening only or having to drag it out from some long forsaken corner of his head. Like he doesn't have every single second cataloged somewhere. At least the ones like this.
"At least I'm pretty sure someone-" Emphasize with a wider slide of a his smile. "-keeps reminding that I keep one of those around here somewhere." He tilted his head, maybe something a little more testing dropping in the smallest amount. "Unless you have other plans?" Which could be ideas, or it could be what it is. Sort of, a run by on whether Danny is planning on leaving sometime soon.