Protesting, if mildly so, somehow managed past the sudden choke of warmth in his chest that's threatening to spill out everywhere into the kind of words Steve probably won't be smiling so smugly at. These are. This is. This is like his first crush, like being thirteen and agonizing over every second spent in accidental company with the object of his affections, during and after. This is one foot in his mouth levels of self-aware awkwardness that makes him feel as goofy as a cartoon. These are foil-wrapped, saccharine saying candy feelings. If he's not careful, he might find himself back in the 80's, requesting songs from a DJ recorded three states and four hours away.
That is how idiotic all of this is making him. These are ridiculous feelings, feelings that have no business attaching themselves to a natural disaster like Steve, a human wrecking ball, no matter how soft his eyes are or how endearing that smile.
Right?
Except he knows better. There's no turning back now, he's already caught in the tar pits, sinking blissfully away into certain doom and disaster.
But it's not right now. Not tonight. Tonight is still good, and Steve is dragging his hand back, like it isn't Danny's to move, like it belongs to Steve and he hadn't given permission to take it away. Which clenches that strange, half-painful knot in his chest, washes him out with warmth.
"I don't always agree, but I listen. There's no need for slander."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-18 10:11 pm (UTC)Protesting, if mildly so, somehow managed past the sudden choke of warmth in his chest that's threatening to spill out everywhere into the kind of words Steve probably won't be smiling so smugly at. These are. This is. This is like his first crush, like being thirteen and agonizing over every second spent in accidental company with the object of his affections, during and after. This is one foot in his mouth levels of self-aware awkwardness that makes him feel as goofy as a cartoon. These are foil-wrapped, saccharine saying candy feelings. If he's not careful, he might find himself back in the 80's, requesting songs from a DJ recorded three states and four hours away.
That is how idiotic all of this is making him. These are ridiculous feelings, feelings that have no business attaching themselves to a natural disaster like Steve, a human wrecking ball, no matter how soft his eyes are or how endearing that smile.
Right?
Except he knows better. There's no turning back now, he's already caught in the tar pits, sinking blissfully away into certain doom and disaster.
But it's not right now. Not tonight. Tonight is still good, and Steve is dragging his hand back, like it isn't Danny's to move, like it belongs to Steve and he hadn't given permission to take it away. Which clenches that strange, half-painful knot in his chest, washes him out with warmth.
"I don't always agree, but I listen. There's no need for slander."