There are words happening. Steve is sure of that. About as sure of that as he is that the flicker of color and movement to the left of his vision is the light actually turning green. That same shade that's been painted all over Danny, he thought. Except this is. And he isn't looking at it. The light. Because it doesn't seem to exist anymore.
He's narrowing his eyes, just enough during Danny's barrage of words, when his hands suddenly start moving again, pulling a cord of barbwire tight around his chest. Tightening with emphasis at words like definitely and appreciate and usually and your own. When there is nothing behind him, and nothing in front of the camaro, that isn't right here.
Where he's looking right now, when Danny's voice is goading him to try and consider anything else. Like he should have.
But he rejects it, with the closest thing to a frown he's probably found in over an hour. Reject every edge of Danny's words that cannot be missed. That he was supposed to be considering other people. Other ways for this evening and tonight to be ending. Somewhere else. Somewhere that was not here. With someone else. Who was not Danny. When the whole feeling is so desperately sharp it's dangerous painful.
When he's shrugging, shoving if off, like it's not burning down the ground. "Nope. No idea who you could be talking about."
When he thinks he knows where that could go, what that might make Danny recite for him. When he's shoving out exasperated words, like an brittle edged order, when his hand is out, shoving into Danny's space, up to the place where his hair and his neck meet, dragging him forward to meet them, "Shut up, before I forget this is the only thing I've wanted to do all night."
When the camaro wasn't exactly where he'd planned for. In the middle of a city street. With traffic cams and possible other cars. But everything else is minute whine of noise beside the need to kiss Danny. To take each of those words back, like he could rip them out of wherever they came from.
Because it's not true, and there was never a chance, and his stomach edges over ice, with whether Danny didn't want this now, somehow, after making it clear for over an hour that every other person who looked at him should be burned alive for the assumption of right.
no subject
He's narrowing his eyes, just enough during Danny's barrage of words, when his hands suddenly start moving again, pulling a cord of barbwire tight around his chest. Tightening with emphasis at words like definitely and appreciate and usually and your own. When there is nothing behind him, and nothing in front of the camaro, that isn't right here.
Where he's looking right now, when Danny's voice is goading him to try and consider anything else. Like he should have.
But he rejects it, with the closest thing to a frown he's probably found in over an hour. Reject every edge of Danny's words that cannot be missed. That he was supposed to be considering other people. Other ways for this evening and tonight to be ending. Somewhere else. Somewhere that was not here. With someone else. Who was not Danny. When the whole feeling is so desperately sharp it's dangerous painful.
When he's shrugging, shoving if off, like it's not burning down the ground. "Nope. No idea who you could be talking about."
When he thinks he knows where that could go, what that might make Danny recite for him. When he's shoving out exasperated words, like an brittle edged order, when his hand is out, shoving into Danny's space, up to the place where his hair and his neck meet, dragging him forward to meet them, "Shut up, before I forget this is the only thing I've wanted to do all night."
When the camaro wasn't exactly where he'd planned for. In the middle of a city street. With traffic cams and possible other cars. But everything else is minute whine of noise beside the need to kiss Danny. To take each of those words back, like he could rip them out of wherever they came from.
Because it's not true, and there was never a chance, and his stomach edges over ice, with whether Danny didn't want this now, somehow, after making it clear for over an hour that every other person who looked at him should be burned alive for the assumption of right.