He's got enough time to snag his beer from the bar before Steve's pushing at his shoulder again, and it is really alarming how much easier it is to breathe when they're a few steps away and the girl is still sitting, looking a little bewildered at the sudden change of weather, at the bar.
Except there seems to be something wrong with Steve, some bizarre lightness to his step and the look on his face when Danny glances over, shoulders set, all ready to get into it, whatever Steve decides to toss at his head, because Steve can never let anything go and he loves getting under Danny's skin. With that one word, colored strangely amused as much as it might be annoyed, making Danny burrow deeper into his own stubbornness. Look, he's not proud of himself, but what else can he do? These are things he should have realized before coming out here: that Steve is an exceptionally attractive man and that most people go to bars to get picked up or to do the picking themselves.
Stupid, stupid. Pissed at himself for not thinking it might happen, even more for letting it get to him, what does he care, he's seen Steve get hit on a thousand times before, right?
It's just that he doesn't want anybody else doing it now, is that it? Doesn't want other fingers tracing over his skin, doesn't want that stupid heavy lidded quirk of a smile to shine for some random barfly. It's pathetic, and he knows it, which just makes him even more annoyed at Steve, the girl at the bar, and the world at large.
"What?" Almost growled, sharply defensive, as he's crossing to the other side of the table to take a cue and find the chalk. Noticeable. Of course it was. Of course he was, and he doesn't want to talk about it, okay, he'd rather just forget it even happened, though the relaxed air he'd been enjoying at the beginning of the night has pretty much packed its bags and left, leaving behind a sore sense of misuse and the knowledge that he'd almost definitely been out of line.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-26 06:58 pm (UTC)Except there seems to be something wrong with Steve, some bizarre lightness to his step and the look on his face when Danny glances over, shoulders set, all ready to get into it, whatever Steve decides to toss at his head, because Steve can never let anything go and he loves getting under Danny's skin. With that one word, colored strangely amused as much as it might be annoyed, making Danny burrow deeper into his own stubbornness. Look, he's not proud of himself, but what else can he do? These are things he should have realized before coming out here: that Steve is an exceptionally attractive man and that most people go to bars to get picked up or to do the picking themselves.
Stupid, stupid. Pissed at himself for not thinking it might happen, even more for letting it get to him, what does he care, he's seen Steve get hit on a thousand times before, right?
It's just that he doesn't want anybody else doing it now, is that it? Doesn't want other fingers tracing over his skin, doesn't want that stupid heavy lidded quirk of a smile to shine for some random barfly. It's pathetic, and he knows it, which just makes him even more annoyed at Steve, the girl at the bar, and the world at large.
"What?" Almost growled, sharply defensive, as he's crossing to the other side of the table to take a cue and find the chalk. Noticeable. Of course it was. Of course he was, and he doesn't want to talk about it, okay, he'd rather just forget it even happened, though the relaxed air he'd been enjoying at the beginning of the night has pretty much packed its bags and left, leaving behind a sore sense of misuse and the knowledge that he'd almost definitely been out of line.
"Shut up and rack, huh?"