He waits till Danny is thrusting the coins at him, through the insults and questions the rain down, pelting like the kind of tiny, sharp hail that Hawaii almost never sees, except under almost miraculously circumstances. Waits, unimpressed and letting his eyes roll, until there are Danny's fingers grazing his palm, metal touching his palm, skin-hot, making him think all too quickly of it getting that way pressed against Danny's thigh for a long go.
When he has to reign in the way that thought makes his throat tighten, easily having to short circuit the fast comparison to his own hand warm against Danny's skin there occasionally on waking, and just shove it all, a little madcap manically, into beaming. Arrogantly. Like he's won something because Danny just surrendered without anything more than a volley of words, and to cave to his demands.
Danny grabs a cue, busying himself only moments before thrusting it toward Steve. Steve, who could not miss the propellant of any objects that could be used as a weapon getting shoved at him. Not even if he tried. When it's an actual effort, almost lock-stiff-jerky in his back, to try and not let all the muscles between his shoulders and down sieze like it's a threat. Because it isn't. And Danny would never.
And?
Because he's busy. Ignoring Danny's trying to force it into his hands, flat and outright. Crouching, one hand wrapped around the wood and bumpers again. Eyes, and hands focused on dropping in the coins. Slamming it with a metal crunch, that releases the balls. When he grants Danny a still successfully smug look and stands up and still ignores the outstretched pool cue.
"Oh, I'm ready. It's all up here," Steve says, gesturing to his head. Totally looking like he's not even paying attention to what he's obviously missing, hanging out in the open air, except for the wide turn to his mouth. As he's going between leaning and grabbing the balls from the opening on the side and racking them in a proper arrangement in the triangle, placing the one early and still looking for the five.
no subject
When he has to reign in the way that thought makes his throat tighten, easily having to short circuit the fast comparison to his own hand warm against Danny's skin there occasionally on waking, and just shove it all, a little madcap manically, into beaming. Arrogantly. Like he's won something because Danny just surrendered without anything more than a volley of words, and to cave to his demands.
Danny grabs a cue, busying himself only moments before thrusting it toward Steve. Steve, who could not miss the propellant of any objects that could be used as a weapon getting shoved at him. Not even if he tried. When it's an actual effort, almost lock-stiff-jerky in his back, to try and not let all the muscles between his shoulders and down sieze like it's a threat. Because it isn't. And Danny would never.
And?
Because he's busy. Ignoring Danny's trying to force it into his hands, flat and outright. Crouching, one hand wrapped around the wood and bumpers again. Eyes, and hands focused on dropping in the coins. Slamming it with a metal crunch, that releases the balls. When he grants Danny a still successfully smug look and stands up and still ignores the outstretched pool cue.
"Oh, I'm ready. It's all up here," Steve says, gesturing to his head. Totally looking like he's not even paying attention to what he's obviously missing, hanging out in the open air, except for the wide turn to his mouth. As he's going between leaning and grabbing the balls from the opening on the side and racking them in a proper arrangement in the triangle, placing the one early and still looking for the five.