There would be no way to replace this. It's the thought that settles both light as a feather and heavier than a dozen human lives on his chest. This way that Danny's face is flushed, warm, and he's already smiling, in the barest second since that noise escaped him to lodge itself like a living, thrumming, beating thing inside Steve's chest. The ways Danny' tongue tips out rubbing against his bottom lip, before he's already got words to throw.
Because Danny always has words to throw. They're about as important as they aren't. Compared to this.
It would be like every time he looked at the Chesapeake Bay, and always knew. Knew, deep in his gut, in his mind, in his soul, his mana, whatever people wanted to call it, that put their lives, their histories, their atoms together. That it might have been a vast body of water, it might sooth the gaping maw in him for hours at a time, but it was not the ocean.
It was not Hawaii. It was not home. It never would be. But home was not an option; nor was an the end to that ache.
It's the strangest series of so quick thoughts, even when Steve mouth is curved beyond his control. Too pleased, like Danny's words are so much less slander and more like a standing ovation. When he lifts his eyebrows with a smoked through kind of flash brilliant menace, and shifts his hands, like he's making a point, but it never really comes out of Danny's hair, fingers maybe even brushing into a slightly more friction against Danny's scalp.
"It did get you shut up, didn't it?" Steve latched on to that smile and the few seconds that were spinning out between watching Danny smile and lick at his lip and the already bubbling faint urge to kiss him again. Kiss him until he couldn't remember anything. The taste of his beer. The things Steve said. The fact he meant them. Until the idea in Steve's head might melt away from being as clear as it was, clouding and crowding up the back of his head.
It would probably be like that. The Bay. Maybe it's been like that for a year already. They way nothing ever fit right.
The way nothing in him holds away, waiting still, and nothing else comes close to comparing to this smile on Danny's lips.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-10 03:21 am (UTC)Because Danny always has words to throw. They're about as important as they aren't. Compared to this.
It would be like every time he looked at the Chesapeake Bay, and always knew. Knew, deep in his gut, in his mind, in his soul, his mana, whatever people wanted to call it, that put their lives, their histories, their atoms together. That it might have been a vast body of water, it might sooth the gaping maw in him for hours at a time, but it was not the ocean.
It was not Hawaii. It was not home. It never would be. But home was not an option; nor was an the end to that ache.
It's the strangest series of so quick thoughts, even when Steve mouth is curved beyond his control. Too pleased, like Danny's words are so much less slander and more like a standing ovation. When he lifts his eyebrows with a smoked through kind of flash brilliant menace, and shifts his hands, like he's making a point, but it never really comes out of Danny's hair, fingers maybe even brushing into a slightly more friction against Danny's scalp.
"It did get you shut up, didn't it?" Steve latched on to that smile and the few seconds that were spinning out between watching Danny smile and lick at his lip and the already bubbling faint urge to kiss him again. Kiss him until he couldn't remember anything. The taste of his beer. The things Steve said. The fact he meant them. Until the idea in Steve's head might melt away from being as clear as it was, clouding and crowding up the back of his head.
It would probably be like that. The Bay. Maybe it's been like that for a year already. They way nothing ever fit right.
The way nothing in him holds away, waiting still, and nothing else comes close to comparing to this smile on Danny's lips.