Maybe he would have. Was. Definitely was, except then Steve said things like I want you, and did things like stayed all night when Danny could barely move.
Wanting Danny. Only him. He said so. Just inside, after Cath left, because Danny was, he'd felt, reasonably concerned that Steve might have changed his mind.
The way he has apparently changed his mind.
He gives it a moment, watching Steve. Focusing on the faint remembrance of a cold beer bottle in his hands, that he knows is still there, even though it's barely a dull echo of sensation, battering moth wings against the thick glass that's cutting through all his thoughts and leaving them severed. Twitching. "No?"
It's measured, because it has to be, because Steve said, he said, and Danny hadn't wanted to believe him, but he did, because Steve kept saying it. And even Danny told him. They know the rules. They know exactly how they're shattering them. It's not like they're pretending the rules don't exist. They're flying in the face of them, painting across them, flicking on a lighter and letting them burn.
Are. Were?
"Is that what Catherine thinks?"
He measures it because the alternative is to get up and yell, to argue, to fight, and he can feel it already starting to squirm, the need to get up, to pace and walk, to let his hands move and words fly out, but he might say anything, do anything once that happens, and he can give it a minute's worth of rational thought. Right? He can.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-02 01:03 am (UTC)Maybe he would have. Was. Definitely was, except then Steve said things like I want you, and did things like stayed all night when Danny could barely move.
Wanting Danny. Only him. He said so. Just inside, after Cath left, because Danny was, he'd felt, reasonably concerned that Steve might have changed his mind.
The way he has apparently changed his mind.
He gives it a moment, watching Steve. Focusing on the faint remembrance of a cold beer bottle in his hands, that he knows is still there, even though it's barely a dull echo of sensation, battering moth wings against the thick glass that's cutting through all his thoughts and leaving them severed. Twitching. "No?"
It's measured, because it has to be, because Steve said, he said, and Danny hadn't wanted to believe him, but he did, because Steve kept saying it. And even Danny told him. They know the rules. They know exactly how they're shattering them. It's not like they're pretending the rules don't exist. They're flying in the face of them, painting across them, flicking on a lighter and letting them burn.
Are. Were?
"Is that what Catherine thinks?"
He measures it because the alternative is to get up and yell, to argue, to fight, and he can feel it already starting to squirm, the need to get up, to pace and walk, to let his hands move and words fly out, but he might say anything, do anything once that happens, and he can give it a minute's worth of rational thought. Right? He can.