The first thought he has in response is that's absurd, because there's no possible way Steve already has what he wants, because what he has right now is Danny in all of Danny's confused and terrified jagged pieces, that keep trying to fit back together but just haven't quite found the correct pattern yet. Who would want that? And if they did, if Steve does, how could it, in any conceivable way, be enough?
That's what Steve is saying, isn't it? Giving Danny a non-answer, a shrug of words that says he's good, that he's set. With this. Already. Like just this is already enough, or even more than, which is exactly as crazy as it isn't.
Like Danny doesn't feel that way, too. Sure. He wants more, more touches, more contact, more of everything he can get, because he's greedy, selfish, always has been, and there's so much here to want and learn and give that it takes his breath away just thinking about it. But this -- just this, just getting Steve, who let him stay, who let him talk Steve down off the insane ledge of we can't do this -- is so much more than he ever expected, and more than he knows what to do with, aside from hold on as hard and stubbornly as he can.
And there are other things Steve wants. He just listed some of them, the things he must have thought about, wondered about, allowed fantasies to fill in blanks of actual absolute knowledge. He's not saying having Danny on his couch, pressed under him, breathing hard and dizzy with want, is the be-all and end-all of things he desires.
But maybe it's enough. Like it's enough for Danny. Something that wasn't supposed to happen, so how can he ask for more?
Which is insane. But Danny can't say he doesn't know the feeling, and when has this ever dipped back into the realm of sane, anyway?
"I can think of a few other things that might go on that list," he says, instead, smiling, because Steve isn't shaking out words anymore like they're coins stuck in his throat, he's not wired to blow any second, and when he kissed Danny back, it was rough and real and almost sharp enough to cut, but it wasn't the panicked grasping need of don't leave.
Which means his hands can wander back down the slope of Steve's spine, both of them sliding up under the hem to find skin he keeps leaving too soon, that should just be bared so he there's no single barrier between them at all.
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That's what Steve is saying, isn't it? Giving Danny a non-answer, a shrug of words that says he's good, that he's set. With this. Already. Like just this is already enough, or even more than, which is exactly as crazy as it isn't.
Like Danny doesn't feel that way, too. Sure. He wants more, more touches, more contact, more of everything he can get, because he's greedy, selfish, always has been, and there's so much here to want and learn and give that it takes his breath away just thinking about it. But this -- just this, just getting Steve, who let him stay, who let him talk Steve down off the insane ledge of we can't do this -- is so much more than he ever expected, and more than he knows what to do with, aside from hold on as hard and stubbornly as he can.
And there are other things Steve wants. He just listed some of them, the things he must have thought about, wondered about, allowed fantasies to fill in blanks of actual absolute knowledge. He's not saying having Danny on his couch, pressed under him, breathing hard and dizzy with want, is the be-all and end-all of things he desires.
But maybe it's enough. Like it's enough for Danny. Something that wasn't supposed to happen, so how can he ask for more?
Which is insane. But Danny can't say he doesn't know the feeling, and when has this ever dipped back into the realm of sane, anyway?
"I can think of a few other things that might go on that list," he says, instead, smiling, because Steve isn't shaking out words anymore like they're coins stuck in his throat, he's not wired to blow any second, and when he kissed Danny back, it was rough and real and almost sharp enough to cut, but it wasn't the panicked grasping need of don't leave.
Which means his hands can wander back down the slope of Steve's spine, both of them sliding up under the hem to find skin he keeps leaving too soon, that should just be bared so he there's no single barrier between them at all.