Danny disagrees. Just because something worked once has no effect on whether or not it will continue working, or even work twice. People change. The thigns they like change. Steve likes the jeans now, but Steve has been in this for less than two full weeks, and Danny doesn't care, a year's worth of wanting only fuels more impossibilities. You can fantasize about anything you want, if it's never going to happen. Run hypothetical situations over and over through your head, polishing them up every time, until every bump is worn away.
It doesn't go that way, when it actually happens. Especially if it was never supposed to happen. Never going to happen. He used to like when Rachel made him tea, too. He thought it was cute. He could never have predicted how much he would miss coffee on weekend mornings, when she was home. You like something one day, and can't stand it next week. Something working once seems to him the perfect time to toss it out and never think about it again, okay, look where trying to remake the past got him last time.
And he knows that's about more than jeans, and more than a one-off joke about closet space, alright, he knows that, he has not totally lost his mind, though it's looking like a good seven-eighths of it have just walked off and left him behind. It's just that knowing all that is a very logical, measured, reasonable response, and panic obeys absolutely none of those parameters.
Steve's tone is turning a crank in Danny's stomach, the one that fuels the alarms now blaring in his head, flashing panic red and neon across every thought, spilling ABORT ABORT ABORT through any available space, splashing it across dead-end walls.
The way Steve is looking at him doesn't bode well, either. That smile and low teasing voice is gone, he's not ragging on Danny anymore, and not amused. He looks confused, and Steve's default reaction to being confused, especially this week, is rarely what Danny would call ideal, okay. He's the shoot first ask questions never kind of guy, and Danny can see the countdown clock ticking to Steve's breaking point as clearly as if it were on a scoreboard in a rink. That thread of annoyance in his voice is only the first step, the one that says he's noticed something's off, but doesn't know what it is, and that so rarely works out well for Danny, but heading Steve off at the pass is easier said than done, especially when Danny is still feeling like his feet have gotten caught in wet cement that's slowly sealing him in.
"You know, I think a lack of regular appearances is part of their charm."
That doesn't mean he can't try. Even if appeasing might be a long-gone dream right now.
no subject
It doesn't go that way, when it actually happens. Especially if it was never supposed to happen. Never going to happen. He used to like when Rachel made him tea, too. He thought it was cute. He could never have predicted how much he would miss coffee on weekend mornings, when she was home. You like something one day, and can't stand it next week. Something working once seems to him the perfect time to toss it out and never think about it again, okay, look where trying to remake the past got him last time.
And he knows that's about more than jeans, and more than a one-off joke about closet space, alright, he knows that, he has not totally lost his mind, though it's looking like a good seven-eighths of it have just walked off and left him behind. It's just that knowing all that is a very logical, measured, reasonable response, and panic obeys absolutely none of those parameters.
Steve's tone is turning a crank in Danny's stomach, the one that fuels the alarms now blaring in his head, flashing panic red and neon across every thought, spilling ABORT ABORT ABORT through any available space, splashing it across dead-end walls.
The way Steve is looking at him doesn't bode well, either. That smile and low teasing voice is gone, he's not ragging on Danny anymore, and not amused. He looks confused, and Steve's default reaction to being confused, especially this week, is rarely what Danny would call ideal, okay. He's the shoot first ask questions never kind of guy, and Danny can see the countdown clock ticking to Steve's breaking point as clearly as if it were on a scoreboard in a rink. That thread of annoyance in his voice is only the first step, the one that says he's noticed something's off, but doesn't know what it is, and that so rarely works out well for Danny, but heading Steve off at the pass is easier said than done, especially when Danny is still feeling like his feet have gotten caught in wet cement that's slowly sealing him in.
"You know, I think a lack of regular appearances is part of their charm."
That doesn't mean he can't try. Even if appeasing might be a long-gone dream right now.