The running water is a welcome white noise, one he latches onto and drifts with, lets it run straight over the thoughts starting to pop up in his head like a Whack-a-Mole game.
All about things Steve wants, and gets, or doesn't want, and doesn't ask for. Things he does and doesn't do. And how this just launched them off the sinking island of not talked about, and undefined, and into a whirling, churning pool Danny's not sure he can keep his head above water in.
Because it makes things serious. But it only makes them serious for him, which, fine, has sort of been the case from the first day it all got started, from the first weekend, trying to get Steve to understand that he's no good at keeping his emotions out of sex, that he won't be able to just shake Steve's hand and walk away from this. This, whatever it is. That isn't a joke, to Steve, but that isn't him being called a boyfriend except by someone who would probably only ever use the term sarcastically when used in conjunction with Steve.
But he keeps tripping on them, and it's starting to piss him off, so it's just as well Steve comes back when he does, dips the mattress with his weight, offers the washcloth, which is really kind of a nice touch. He takes it with a grunt of thanks, wipes at his stomach and the mess stuck all over his skin. Considers that maybe he should head to the bathroom himself, for a more thorough clean-up, because even after what just happened, he's -- Steve's right there and, fine, he's feeling a little self-conscious.
A lot. Whatever.
He tips his head in Steve's general direction, where he's sitting, watching Danny with an unreadable expression but something like wariness in his tone, and, fuck it, Danny would really rather not go there tonight, right now. He's exhausted, and feeling more than a little unnerved, and that's not a great combination when added to Steve being cautious around him.
"You planning on going somewhere?" he asks, instead, shifting. Thinking. "I'll take it back. Lie down, I'm exhausted just looking at you sitting up like that."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-05 11:00 pm (UTC)All about things Steve wants, and gets, or doesn't want, and doesn't ask for. Things he does and doesn't do. And how this just launched them off the sinking island of not talked about, and undefined, and into a whirling, churning pool Danny's not sure he can keep his head above water in.
Because it makes things serious. But it only makes them serious for him, which, fine, has sort of been the case from the first day it all got started, from the first weekend, trying to get Steve to understand that he's no good at keeping his emotions out of sex, that he won't be able to just shake Steve's hand and walk away from this. This, whatever it is. That isn't a joke, to Steve, but that isn't him being called a boyfriend except by someone who would probably only ever use the term sarcastically when used in conjunction with Steve.
But he keeps tripping on them, and it's starting to piss him off, so it's just as well Steve comes back when he does, dips the mattress with his weight, offers the washcloth, which is really kind of a nice touch. He takes it with a grunt of thanks, wipes at his stomach and the mess stuck all over his skin. Considers that maybe he should head to the bathroom himself, for a more thorough clean-up, because even after what just happened, he's -- Steve's right there and, fine, he's feeling a little self-conscious.
A lot. Whatever.
He tips his head in Steve's general direction, where he's sitting, watching Danny with an unreadable expression but something like wariness in his tone, and, fuck it, Danny would really rather not go there tonight, right now. He's exhausted, and feeling more than a little unnerved, and that's not a great combination when added to Steve being cautious around him.
"You planning on going somewhere?" he asks, instead, shifting. Thinking. "I'll take it back. Lie down, I'm exhausted just looking at you sitting up like that."