It's amazing how one question can take the floor right out from under him, again. But this time without the panicked drop. One question. One word. Suddenly emptying out this huge hollow space in his chest that just as swiftly expands out further, because it isn't actually empty, it's so full, cracking with light. Aching so hard. Like Steve shoved the entire island under Danny's breastbone.
Together. And we're in this together. Right?
Like it could be questioned. Ever. Like he doesn't always want to be right where he is. Right next to Steve. Like he doesn't always want Steve to be right where he belongs, next to Danny. This huge tilting plain reaching wide through his chest, threatening to burst him wide open.
How could he forget? How could that not have factored into it? Except he knows this panic. This panic is brought on by together suddenly being separate. Separate beds, separate bank accounts. Dinner at separate times. Separate weekends with Grace.
But Steve's not Rachel. Steve's in this. With him. Together. "Yes."
He can't lift his head to look Steve in the eye, make sure he understands, make sure he knows, because Steve's hand is cradling him close and Steve's head is tipping to let Danny's mouth search its way down the column of his throat, so words end up getting smudged into skin, as he works closer to Steve's ear, the only chance he's got of being even slightly clear. Even though his voice is suddenly sounding sandpaper-rough. "Like always. You and me."
Together. Like every day. Except when Steve left, when Danny felt as abandoned as if Rachel had closed the door on him one last time, just for kicks. Because that wasn't together. That wasn't partners. That wasn't him being able to get Steve's back. It was him, alone. Steve, alone. Wrong, in every sense of the word. This is them. Together. Always. It's theirs. Whatever shape and form. Together, against everything the world has got, and it's got a lot, but not this. Never this. This belongs to them.
His hand sliding back over Steve's side, along his stomach, up his chest, burying fingers in hair, back down to his shoulder, his arm. Not slow, but not rushed. Wanting every single inch of Steve under his palm, against his fingers.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-28 11:13 pm (UTC)Together. And we're in this together. Right?
Like it could be questioned. Ever. Like he doesn't always want to be right where he is. Right next to Steve. Like he doesn't always want Steve to be right where he belongs, next to Danny. This huge tilting plain reaching wide through his chest, threatening to burst him wide open.
How could he forget? How could that not have factored into it? Except he knows this panic. This panic is brought on by together suddenly being separate. Separate beds, separate bank accounts. Dinner at separate times. Separate weekends with Grace.
But Steve's not Rachel. Steve's in this. With him. Together. "Yes."
He can't lift his head to look Steve in the eye, make sure he understands, make sure he knows, because Steve's hand is cradling him close and Steve's head is tipping to let Danny's mouth search its way down the column of his throat, so words end up getting smudged into skin, as he works closer to Steve's ear, the only chance he's got of being even slightly clear. Even though his voice is suddenly sounding sandpaper-rough. "Like always. You and me."
Together. Like every day. Except when Steve left, when Danny felt as abandoned as if Rachel had closed the door on him one last time, just for kicks. Because that wasn't together. That wasn't partners. That wasn't him being able to get Steve's back. It was him, alone. Steve, alone. Wrong, in every sense of the word. This is them. Together. Always. It's theirs. Whatever shape and form. Together, against everything the world has got, and it's got a lot, but not this. Never this. This belongs to them.
His hand sliding back over Steve's side, along his stomach, up his chest, burying fingers in hair, back down to his shoulder, his arm. Not slow, but not rushed. Wanting every single inch of Steve under his palm, against his fingers.