"Incorrect. I said nothing about invitations, and, if I had, I definitely would not have asked for one with an insult tacked onto the end. What are you, six, that you think that's funny?"
Because he does, clearly. It's smacked clear across Steve's stupid face, how amusing he finds all of this, how he obviously thinks that was basically the greatest brainwave of all time, and Danny's pretty sure he'll be smirking about it for at least the next twenty, thirty minutes, easy.
All night, even, which ought to be annoying as hell, and it is, sure, but Danny will also get to be here all night and he's pretty okay with that plan, no matter how aggravatingly pleased with himself Steve is. "That was your big idea. Admittedly, I should know better than to encourage you, but you know, I live in hope."
Making determinedly for the stairs, fingers still wrapped firm around Steve's wrist, like the guy might try to make a break for it. He might. It's possible. No matter how often Steve tells him to stay, or makes fun of him for wanting to be sure, there's still that niggling doubt, burrowing in the back of his head, latched on to his skull. Pointing out, unhelpful, that Steve could change his mind any time.
Which doesn't match up with anything Steve's said or done, so Danny can only conclude it's not actually about Steve, that voice. He might have his worries, but the available evidence suggests Steve wants pretty much the exact opposite, right, otherwise he wouldn't have told Cath, would have spent the weekend hooking up with her like usual. He wouldn't have run after Danny onto the front yard, wouldn't have watched him like he did, splayed out on the couch, dark blue eyes following every movement Danny made, trained on his face and blown wide open and soft instead of just feverish.
No. Well, yes. It still could happen, and Danny's sure it will, at some point, but Steve's taken to looking outright offended at any sort of suggestion headed in that direction, so Danny can only conclude it's his own fucked up head saying this to him, convincing him it's true.
Which doesn't make it easier to ignore, but does allow him to vastly enjoy the way Steve follows him up the stairs like Danny's fingers around his wrist are some sort of leash, some imperative thing he can't help but follow.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-26 12:40 am (UTC)Because he does, clearly. It's smacked clear across Steve's stupid face, how amusing he finds all of this, how he obviously thinks that was basically the greatest brainwave of all time, and Danny's pretty sure he'll be smirking about it for at least the next twenty, thirty minutes, easy.
All night, even, which ought to be annoying as hell, and it is, sure, but Danny will also get to be here all night and he's pretty okay with that plan, no matter how aggravatingly pleased with himself Steve is. "That was your big idea. Admittedly, I should know better than to encourage you, but you know, I live in hope."
Making determinedly for the stairs, fingers still wrapped firm around Steve's wrist, like the guy might try to make a break for it. He might. It's possible. No matter how often Steve tells him to stay, or makes fun of him for wanting to be sure, there's still that niggling doubt, burrowing in the back of his head, latched on to his skull. Pointing out, unhelpful, that Steve could change his mind any time.
Which doesn't match up with anything Steve's said or done, so Danny can only conclude it's not actually about Steve, that voice. He might have his worries, but the available evidence suggests Steve wants pretty much the exact opposite, right, otherwise he wouldn't have told Cath, would have spent the weekend hooking up with her like usual. He wouldn't have run after Danny onto the front yard, wouldn't have watched him like he did, splayed out on the couch, dark blue eyes following every movement Danny made, trained on his face and blown wide open and soft instead of just feverish.
No. Well, yes. It still could happen, and Danny's sure it will, at some point, but Steve's taken to looking outright offended at any sort of suggestion headed in that direction, so Danny can only conclude it's his own fucked up head saying this to him, convincing him it's true.
Which doesn't make it easier to ignore, but does allow him to vastly enjoy the way Steve follows him up the stairs like Danny's fingers around his wrist are some sort of leash, some imperative thing he can't help but follow.