It shouldn't make him smile when Danny follows through on what he knew was coming. A wash of movement. Fluttering mess of blonde hair. And suddenly waving hand, smacking his shoulder. Words turned pointed and sharp in the brace of a passing second. All of which shouldn't be making him smile. It shouldn't. But it is. Standing there. Naked, and grinning, watching Danny looking suddenly like he shot someone without cause.
Like Danny didn't just prod him about not moving, and is now yelling about moving too much, too fast.
It does leaves him standing, at least, even if he's grinning down at Danny looking as disgruntled as ever. Feeling the pull in the muscles in thighs and all through his lower abdomen. It's not so bad after everything else, swimming and hiking and running. But he'll definitely be feeling it a while. Even if it's completely on the sidelines from everything else he's feeling about Danny and his rumpled up expression and his hair.
The sorry state of the couch that'll need seeing to. Like the kitchen's dishes. And themselves. A reckless, exploded mess.
Leaving Steve groping for a second for where he threw his own shirt, even when he's bending to pick up a handful of the pile of pants and boxers not far off the couch itself. A pile at its, and their, feet befitting such a crazy rush, things half turned inside out. His own boxers still shoved inside his cargo's. Danny's peeled off jeans that he really would not mind seeing a whole lot more of.
"You asked for movement," Steve said, easily, like Danny wasn't shouting at him.
Widely and wildly unapologetic, which was totally an answer for that question about whether it made him happy. It might have been insane. But all of this, did. Which was. Insane. You know. Well. No one knew. Well. Except Cath, now. But it did. Make him stupidly happy for sets of seconds. Even the yelling. All of this made him happy with himself. Danny, still looking bowled over and blown out, and still managing shouting.
"Well," Steve tossed Danny his jeans, mouth getting the better of him. Maybe never not having the better of him, already. "I am going up-" Pointed and pressed on and poking, arrogant assumption ladled all over it, about what Danny will do and who he'll choose over what, even when he's being terrible. "-but you can stay on the couch, if you feel you haven't bonded with it long enough,"
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-19 04:06 pm (UTC)Like Danny didn't just prod him about not moving, and is now yelling about moving too much, too fast.
It does leaves him standing, at least, even if he's grinning down at Danny looking as disgruntled as ever. Feeling the pull in the muscles in thighs and all through his lower abdomen. It's not so bad after everything else, swimming and hiking and running. But he'll definitely be feeling it a while. Even if it's completely on the sidelines from everything else he's feeling about Danny and his rumpled up expression and his hair.
The sorry state of the couch that'll need seeing to. Like the kitchen's dishes. And themselves. A reckless, exploded mess.
Leaving Steve groping for a second for where he threw his own shirt, even when he's bending to pick up a handful of the pile of pants and boxers not far off the couch itself. A pile at its, and their, feet befitting such a crazy rush, things half turned inside out. His own boxers still shoved inside his cargo's. Danny's peeled off jeans that he really would not mind seeing a whole lot more of.
"You asked for movement," Steve said, easily, like Danny wasn't shouting at him.
Widely and wildly unapologetic, which was totally an answer for that question about whether it made him happy. It might have been insane. But all of this, did. Which was. Insane. You know. Well. No one knew. Well. Except Cath, now. But it did. Make him stupidly happy for sets of seconds. Even the yelling. All of this made him happy with himself. Danny, still looking bowled over and blown out, and still managing shouting.
"Well," Steve tossed Danny his jeans, mouth getting the better of him. Maybe never not having the better of him, already. "I am going up-" Pointed and pressed on and poking, arrogant assumption ladled all over it, about what Danny will do and who he'll choose over what, even when he's being terrible. "-but you can stay on the couch, if you feel you haven't bonded with it long enough,"