All of the sudden things slow. Not stop. Not freeze. But Danny's grip loosens on his hair, fingers, hands sliding down his neck. Across his shoulder and his upper arm, pressure whispering through the cloth of his shirt, smoothing over muscles before they even have the chance to tense. The chance to anything but listen to that touch.
The way he can't not hear the words that get said. Seeing it has a dividing line and one he already tried to hit with a wrecking ball. That he lets get the best of his mind now and then, in situations where he can't help it, but only that. Not the better of Danny.
Who is staring up at him, quiet and slanting more toward serious than his face has been in a little while. Admitting to both of those things. Asking Steve to.
"No-" he says, feeling the ease dripping slowly out across himself, like drops of water falling off his skin once he emerges from the water nearly every morning. Something he's so used to, he could recognize it in his sleep as much as he could sleep through it on his feet, at attention. Not nervous or ashamed, but maybe a little warily unprepared for it being this second.
For it being said so easily, when it hasn't really been poked at or talked about in weeks.
It's more middle of the road, acknowledging, but almost only that. "-I'm not."
When he has no idea where Danny might take that or want it to go.
Or what he might want to know, and how much there is in those places Steve isn't even sure whether he'd want Danny to know.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-20 06:34 pm (UTC)The way he can't not hear the words that get said. Seeing it has a dividing line and one he already tried to hit with a wrecking ball. That he lets get the best of his mind now and then, in situations where he can't help it, but only that. Not the better of Danny.
Who is staring up at him, quiet and slanting more toward serious than his face has been in a little while. Admitting to both of those things. Asking Steve to.
"No-" he says, feeling the ease dripping slowly out across himself, like drops of water falling off his skin once he emerges from the water nearly every morning. Something he's so used to, he could recognize it in his sleep as much as he could sleep through it on his feet, at attention. Not nervous or ashamed, but maybe a little warily unprepared for it being this second.
For it being said so easily, when it hasn't really been poked at or talked about in weeks.
It's more middle of the road, acknowledging, but almost only that. "-I'm not."
When he has no idea where Danny might take that or want it to go.
Or what he might want to know, and how much there is in those places Steve isn't even sure whether he'd want Danny to know.