Danny blew off his quick cover-up like it was nothing, the raise of his eyebrows, and a stubborn set that looked nothing at all like Danny didn't know what he was doing. Just like he was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge he was doing it as he was doing it. Far less obvious and graceful was at least the laughter and polite brush off from her. Even if she had not let go of her bare grip, fingertips pressing in against his bicep.
Tracing against skin, pushing his sleeve higher, over the raise of the lotus petals as she pressed for a completely different question and action combination when he hadn't ever answered the first one. Due to Danny stepping into it and then having to be cleaned up after. Who seriously seemed to be taking anytime she opened her mouth like it was an invitation to snap at her. Like she'd done something.
Like he'd been insulted, or interrupted, had some reason to feel slighted, or be jealous, like he'd been with Bull Frog or Kai--
Something in Steve's head went to a skittering halt, as his free hand, pint glass included, raised toward other his arm. Pressing on the cloth of the shirt, even if it meant brushing where her fingers were just then. When he was trying to question too many things. The irritable snapping, and the slam of sound behind him that must have been, when his eyes dropped briefly, a fast flick, and yeah Danny's beer bottle is gone now.
When he's juggling, but he'd always been good at that. Even when something sharp and fast, and nearly hot, is shoving under his skin with a confusing suddenness, as he looked back at her. Her, still with no name, leaning into his space as much was just barely into provoking, with her hand on him, and all of Danny's whip-sharp insinuations that might as well have been screaming for her to go away now.
When Steve's brow furrows a little first, distracted apologetic this time. "Actually they're personal." Beat. "From when I was in the service." Which is true. That much just sort of slips out, when really he's trying to compare Danny and his coffee cup from weeks and weeks ago, to Danny now. Not even looking at him and shoulders suddenly tight wound. Like it couldn't possibly be.
And yet. It was. Wasn't it? When all Steve could remember was something he'd nearly forgotten in everything else. When he wanted to be sure, back, back right at the beginning, when the ground split open and Danny hated him, admitted he hated being near Steve, because it was too much with everything he was feeling. When can't get you off my mind, and I should not, should really, really not, be feeling the way I am, but I am was so much more important than what came before it, I can't even handle watching some random girl come flirt with you, how sick is that?
And even after he pressed not seeming to understand hearing it, where Danny was admitting it made him want to punch himself in the face.
Christ. He really can't help it. Somewhere, something far too big was trying to explode the inside confines of his ribs, unaware there was only too little space to put anything. With all those organs and muscles, his lungs. But it didn't care. At all. It was trying, bubbling up, pushing into all the spaces, shoving outward, looking between them. Aware he shouldn't, he shouldn't be staring at Danny, but unable to keep from looking between them, from looking at him, too, suddenly.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2012-11-25 07:27 pm (UTC)Tracing against skin, pushing his sleeve higher, over the raise of the lotus petals as she pressed for a completely different question and action combination when he hadn't ever answered the first one. Due to Danny stepping into it and then having to be cleaned up after. Who seriously seemed to be taking anytime she opened her mouth like it was an invitation to snap at her. Like she'd done something.
Like he'd been insulted, or interrupted, had some reason to feel slighted, or be jealous, like he'd been with Bull Frog or Kai--
Something in Steve's head went to a skittering halt, as his free hand, pint glass included, raised toward other his arm. Pressing on the cloth of the shirt, even if it meant brushing where her fingers were just then. When he was trying to question too many things. The irritable snapping, and the slam of sound behind him that must have been, when his eyes dropped briefly, a fast flick, and yeah Danny's beer bottle is gone now.
When he's juggling, but he'd always been good at that. Even when something sharp and fast, and nearly hot, is shoving under his skin with a confusing suddenness, as he looked back at her. Her, still with no name, leaning into his space as much was just barely into provoking, with her hand on him, and all of Danny's whip-sharp insinuations that might as well have been screaming for her to go away now.
When Steve's brow furrows a little first, distracted apologetic this time. "Actually they're personal." Beat. "From when I was in the service." Which is true. That much just sort of slips out, when really he's trying to compare Danny and his coffee cup from weeks and weeks ago, to Danny now. Not even looking at him and shoulders suddenly tight wound. Like it couldn't possibly be.
And yet. It was. Wasn't it? When all Steve could remember was something he'd nearly forgotten in everything else. When he wanted to be sure, back, back right at the beginning, when the ground split open and Danny hated him, admitted he hated being near Steve, because it was too much with everything he was feeling. When can't get you off my mind, and I should not, should really, really not, be feeling the way I am, but I am was so much more important than what came before it, I can't even handle watching some random girl come flirt with you, how sick is that?
And even after he pressed not seeming to understand hearing it, where Danny was admitting it made him want to punch himself in the face.
Christ. He really can't help it. Somewhere, something far too big was trying to explode the inside confines of his ribs, unaware there was only too little space to put anything. With all those organs and muscles, his lungs. But it didn't care. At all. It was trying, bubbling up, pushing into all the spaces, shoving outward, looking between them. Aware he shouldn't, he shouldn't be staring at Danny, but unable to keep from looking between them, from looking at him, too, suddenly.