Danny kisses him. Again. A third time. It's crazy that he can count them tonight. It'd be impossible most other days, to try to figure out how soon after waking that line had already been cross, or after arriving here, or tugging wach other somewhere, anywhere, safe and theirs. When all the angry voices and willingness to snap Steve knows is really only a breath and a wall away.
Which isn't quite as close as Danny is now. When he's agreeing, but he still has to kiss Steve again. Casual and light, and like it's a last check on whether it's still there. His mouth. Or maybe Steve. Or maybe the fact he's allowed to be kissing Steve, without it being angry or overwrought. Or, god, fuck, if Steve actually knows. It's a press and slide of skin, soft and smooth, easy and fast before he's standing.
Done before Steve can swallow or take a breath or hold on or pull him closer. Making his chest ache, making him want to grab Danny and pull him in. He doesn't even know if it would be to kiss him. Just to be sure Danny is there. Even when Danny isn't looking anywhere else, doing anything else. Is still focused on him. But is standing up, is pulling away, is further away than a foot and half. Still looking at him. Talking sense. Like Steve cares about that.
Except he does. He just said. Needs to remember. But he just. Feels like a mountain caved in over his head, and there's just this mess everywhere around him suddenly. When he doesn't want to be that far from Danny, much at all. Maybe for a while. Which has him pushing back up from the chair, without thinking about it. Just agreeing. "Yeah, sure. A game, or movie, sounds good."
There's the roll of a shrug that comes along with that. Because he could get behind the couch. He could get behind noise filling up the too quiet, and somewhere Danny can sit without being in pain. Somewhere he can sit and turn off his head, for something that doesn't require much focus. Somewhere he can pretend he isn't spending half of glancing at Danny, wondering what the hell, and how, or why. Like those words aren't all caught on the hooks in him still.
It doesn't change a thing.
I said I want to be with you and I meant it.
I'm not giving up the one good thing I've got.
He may not get why or how, or have any idea what. Not in comparison to like the entire section of his plans where this was all about Grace. But he can. Stand. Reach up and rub at his jaw, let his hand smooth to his neck and the back of his own close clipped hair. When he can step through jostle Danny shoulder and his side, like he's not thinking about Danny's knee or his colossal fail of the last however long that was,
Just jostle him and turn toward that house, that isn't any friendlier at this second than the beach and say, "Inside."
no subject
Which isn't quite as close as Danny is now. When he's agreeing, but he still has to kiss Steve again. Casual and light, and like it's a last check on whether it's still there. His mouth. Or maybe Steve. Or maybe the fact he's allowed to be kissing Steve, without it being angry or overwrought. Or, god, fuck, if Steve actually knows. It's a press and slide of skin, soft and smooth, easy and fast before he's standing.
Done before Steve can swallow or take a breath or hold on or pull him closer. Making his chest ache, making him want to grab Danny and pull him in. He doesn't even know if it would be to kiss him. Just to be sure Danny is there. Even when Danny isn't looking anywhere else, doing anything else. Is still focused on him. But is standing up, is pulling away, is further away than a foot and half. Still looking at him. Talking sense. Like Steve cares about that.
Except he does. He just said. Needs to remember. But he just. Feels like a mountain caved in over his head, and there's just this mess everywhere around him suddenly. When he doesn't want to be that far from Danny, much at all. Maybe for a while. Which has him pushing back up from the chair, without thinking about it. Just agreeing. "Yeah, sure. A game, or movie, sounds good."
There's the roll of a shrug that comes along with that. Because he could get behind the couch. He could get behind noise filling up the too quiet, and somewhere Danny can sit without being in pain. Somewhere he can sit and turn off his head, for something that doesn't require much focus. Somewhere he can pretend he isn't spending half of glancing at Danny, wondering what the hell, and how, or why. Like those words aren't all caught on the hooks in him still.
It doesn't change a thing.
I said I want to be with you and I meant it.
I'm not giving up the one good thing I've got.
He may not get why or how, or have any idea what. Not in comparison to like the entire section of his plans where this was all about Grace. But he can. Stand. Reach up and rub at his jaw, let his hand smooth to his neck and the back of his own close clipped hair. When he can step through jostle Danny shoulder and his side, like he's not thinking about Danny's knee or his colossal fail of the last however long that was,
Just jostle him and turn toward that house, that isn't any friendlier at this second than the beach and say, "Inside."