He should never be surprised at Steve's ability to pick the most efficient target and hit it, but it does, occasionally, mean that conversations with him are like getting punched in the kidney, because, well, boyfriend. That word sticks, like he's trying to swallow around a piece of raw turnip suddenly shoved down his throat, and he feels it like a lump behind his breastbone.
Boyfriend. Which is. It's not. This isn't. Right?
It's not like working up to that word with Gabby, finally admitting to it after a few careful months of cautious and low-key dates: coffee, dinner, more coffee, a lunch now and again, a movie once or twice. Riding the line between 'hanging out' and something more, unable to even call it being good friends, because they are, were, but they never built up that desire to just be around each other all the time, never felt the need to let the other one know, first, whenever anything interesting happened. It was easy. 'Boyfriend' fit, after a while, even if nothing else really did, and he's a pretty good boyfriend, when the job allows him to be. Enjoys spending time helping someone unwind, likes sharing coffee in the morning and doing dishes together at night. Is happier just having someone else in the room, even if they aren't paying attention to the game or his conversation.
But that's not. He isn't. It's only been a month, and he doesn't even know where to begin crossing that line, here, or even if one exists, because he's pretty damn sure Steve doesn't do the 'boyfriend' thing and frankly the thought alone is bizarre, to say the least.
They're partners, best friends. There doesn't need to be -- they aren't at -- what's the use of another label, anyway? Who needs this tightening in their chest, the sudden desire to get up and walk around, just to clear their head? Danny sure as hell doesn't, not added to the usual sense of sharpened aggravation and clinging gray tint to all his thoughts that comes from dropping Grace back off.
"So what you're saying is, some of it was important," he says, after a second, hauling himself back to the point at hand and gripping it tight, stubborn perseverance pushing past the lump of granite sitting in the hollow of his throat.
no subject
Boyfriend. Which is. It's not. This isn't. Right?
It's not like working up to that word with Gabby, finally admitting to it after a few careful months of cautious and low-key dates: coffee, dinner, more coffee, a lunch now and again, a movie once or twice. Riding the line between 'hanging out' and something more, unable to even call it being good friends, because they are, were, but they never built up that desire to just be around each other all the time, never felt the need to let the other one know, first, whenever anything interesting happened. It was easy. 'Boyfriend' fit, after a while, even if nothing else really did, and he's a pretty good boyfriend, when the job allows him to be. Enjoys spending time helping someone unwind, likes sharing coffee in the morning and doing dishes together at night. Is happier just having someone else in the room, even if they aren't paying attention to the game or his conversation.
But that's not. He isn't. It's only been a month, and he doesn't even know where to begin crossing that line, here, or even if one exists, because he's pretty damn sure Steve doesn't do the 'boyfriend' thing and frankly the thought alone is bizarre, to say the least.
They're partners, best friends. There doesn't need to be -- they aren't at -- what's the use of another label, anyway? Who needs this tightening in their chest, the sudden desire to get up and walk around, just to clear their head? Danny sure as hell doesn't, not added to the usual sense of sharpened aggravation and clinging gray tint to all his thoughts that comes from dropping Grace back off.
"So what you're saying is, some of it was important," he says, after a second, hauling himself back to the point at hand and gripping it tight, stubborn perseverance pushing past the lump of granite sitting in the hollow of his throat.
Keep on point. It's the best thing to do.