Everything is drawing in on waves. When the water hits the shore. When the wind ruffles the plants, trees. When Danny breathes out, looking suddenly tired, and unhappy, hands falling from Steve's face only to start manhandling him by his shirt. Skin so tight and everywhere on his arms, his chest, tense or half-tensed, when his body is already following. Already going.
Even before he's gotten to the the disgruntled look for being moved and told what to do like a dog.
Not that the chair sucks, not that he doesn't feel something like watery relief somewhere in his knees, and the bottom of his spine. But his brow is furrowing, along with the thinned down turn of his lips. When he's grinding out, "I'm fine," in the answer to being pushed about like a child about to fall over. He wasn't anywhere near falling over.
When he does think about smacking Danny's hands off his lap, except that before the impulse can make his arms, hands, shoulders move to do so, there's a stillness stopping him just as hard. Because it is currently the only place Danny is touching. Leaving him lowly snapping those words and frowning a little too diluted to be hard at the hands, before he looks up, without actually saying or doing anything about them.
Just looking at Danny's face. His hair ruffled everywhere now, and mouth pinked up, slightly swollen. Danny, who is looking at him like he might be breakable. Who he's still not wrong about. Even when everything feels like it was picked up, shatter, shaken up, and then set down upside-down, that isn't something that has changed. Even if he leaves it at looking at Danny, thinking relaxing is the very last thing that's about to happen given everything else. That the last thing this was supposed to be about was himself.
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Even before he's gotten to the the disgruntled look for being moved and told what to do like a dog.
Not that the chair sucks, not that he doesn't feel something like watery relief somewhere in his knees, and the bottom of his spine. But his brow is furrowing, along with the thinned down turn of his lips. When he's grinding out, "I'm fine," in the answer to being pushed about like a child about to fall over. He wasn't anywhere near falling over.
When he does think about smacking Danny's hands off his lap, except that before the impulse can make his arms, hands, shoulders move to do so, there's a stillness stopping him just as hard. Because it is currently the only place Danny is touching. Leaving him lowly snapping those words and frowning a little too diluted to be hard at the hands, before he looks up, without actually saying or doing anything about them.
Just looking at Danny's face. His hair ruffled everywhere now, and mouth pinked up, slightly swollen. Danny, who is looking at him like he might be breakable. Who he's still not wrong about. Even when everything feels like it was picked up, shatter, shaken up, and then set down upside-down, that isn't something that has changed. Even if he leaves it at looking at Danny, thinking relaxing is the very last thing that's about to happen given everything else. That the last thing this was supposed to be about was himself.