Steve's pushing toward standing up again, ripping off the bottom two inches of the yellow lined paper without much attention to where the paper rips. Madcap and amused, weight shifting back into his feet and away from the lean into the desk, fingers holding the paper, wrist writing quickly. Pen dropping, forgotten as soon as it's left his fingers, rolling across the desk, unheeded until it hits something else that, at least, isn't the floor this time.
Steve can't be bothered to think about the pen at all. Or the desk. Or even Danny's hands, and jeans, waving, heavily castigating words. Okay. Well. That last one, only tucks his smirk in broader, as he's headed back. Danny waving his pants, not making on move to put them back on cover himself back up. It's a sight that is still so new and different he can't help noticing all of it, even in that second of turning.
Strong, thick muscles along arms, legs, stomach, shoulders. All of it edged with the fuzz of hair that covers so much of Danny, catching the room's light and giving a soft halo to the space around his skin directly under it. All of it. All of it seizes something in his chest and his stomach. Disbelief and amazement, caught up in that high, smart smugness on his features. That Danny is here. Like this. That all of that just happened, is still happening.
"You're the one who said you wanted more class here," Steve said mockingly. The paper gets held like it's the best answer to any of those. Waiting for Danny's hand to grab the single folded over paper, before he stands there. The smirk stays there, thick and warm on his mouth.
Waiting for Danny to open it, and find the message written, fast and not even as neat as the little paperwork he like to, with Come to bed, idiot. The last word crossed out. Then under it, directly is Danno, also crossed out. With right under it written, once more, Idiot. With a messy line flicked out, right under, underlining it. All of it, actually, underlined by the way Steve's face never actually falters, even in adding impatient patience to waiting for Danny to catch up to his thought about it two minutes back.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-23 06:20 am (UTC)Steve can't be bothered to think about the pen at all. Or the desk. Or even Danny's hands, and jeans, waving, heavily castigating words. Okay. Well. That last one, only tucks his smirk in broader, as he's headed back. Danny waving his pants, not making on move to put them back on cover himself back up. It's a sight that is still so new and different he can't help noticing all of it, even in that second of turning.
Strong, thick muscles along arms, legs, stomach, shoulders. All of it edged with the fuzz of hair that covers so much of Danny, catching the room's light and giving a soft halo to the space around his skin directly under it. All of it. All of it seizes something in his chest and his stomach. Disbelief and amazement, caught up in that high, smart smugness on his features. That Danny is here. Like this. That all of that just happened, is still happening.
"You're the one who said you wanted more class here," Steve said mockingly. The paper gets held like it's the best answer to any of those. Waiting for Danny's hand to grab the single folded over paper, before he stands there. The smirk stays there, thick and warm on his mouth.
Waiting for Danny to open it, and find the message written, fast and not even as neat as the little paperwork he like to, with Come to bed,
idiot. The last word crossed out. Then under it, directly isDanno, also crossed out. With right under it written, once more, Idiot. With a messy line flicked out, right under, underlining it. All of it, actually, underlined by the way Steve's face never actually falters, even in adding impatient patience to waiting for Danny to catch up to his thought about it two minutes back.