In a way, part of it is almost like taking a bullet. Forceful and sudden, like whatever was there, left holding Danny back, still, even though his voice had been taking up this whole room and Steve's whole head, was pulverized when Steve kissed him this time (again). When every ounce of holding back on Danny's part through all of that seems to thrust forward at him, physically.
Sending Steve back a handful of steps. But he doesn't let go. He's not going to. Not yet. Not when Danny's arm is looped around his waist refusing to let go, holding him so tight he has to wonder if the grip of that hand might bruise his skin straight through his shirt or pants. The points of his fingers almost entirely distinct even through layers. When even these thoughts are barely there. Matching the one's singing against the back of his head.
Seconds that stack and stagger together, when Danny gasps against his mouth, swearing, saying his name like it's been drug up from somewhere impossible to get to. When that word is almost as desperate as the force being shoved at him, like Danny can make him pay. For the entire situation, for all the walls and impossibilities, for all the reasons Steve tried to point out were all reasons he might go. New. Different. Harder.
That Danny deserves more, wants more than whatever it is he had in his hands, however it was that he saw everything.
When that kiss back is punishment as much as it is proprietary, and Steve would let him. Let him take out whatever he needs to. On him. It's not fair. It's not something he can wave his hands and make fair. Any more than he could ever wave his hands and stop giving a damn. Than he could wave his hands, and step back, and stop kissing Danny now. Matching fever and want, and, sure, maybe even a icy vein of fear.
Now that Danny really has had a taste of part of why Steve said he might wake up and decide he was done with it all.
When he's shoving that down, shoving it out, curling his fingers into Danny's hair, pulling him close enough teeth snap for a moment, when he wants to shove him against a wall, and make him understand. Everything else is nothing next to him. They didn't matter. Most of his world didn't matter compared to Danny, or made itself resemble an odd wasteland that was still somewhere above surviving, with highlights of laughter and smiling moments drug out from him, only because of Danny.
Yeah, and Five-0. But mostly Danny. Who it seemed this was all he could pay back with, whether of his own idea's or Danny's.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-02 06:10 pm (UTC)Sending Steve back a handful of steps. But he doesn't let go. He's not going to. Not yet. Not when Danny's arm is looped around his waist refusing to let go, holding him so tight he has to wonder if the grip of that hand might bruise his skin straight through his shirt or pants. The points of his fingers almost entirely distinct even through layers. When even these thoughts are barely there. Matching the one's singing against the back of his head.
Seconds that stack and stagger together, when Danny gasps against his mouth, swearing, saying his name like it's been drug up from somewhere impossible to get to. When that word is almost as desperate as the force being shoved at him, like Danny can make him pay. For the entire situation, for all the walls and impossibilities, for all the reasons Steve tried to point out were all reasons he might go. New. Different. Harder.
That Danny deserves more, wants more than whatever it is he had in his hands, however it was that he saw everything.
When that kiss back is punishment as much as it is proprietary, and Steve would let him. Let him take out whatever he needs to. On him. It's not fair. It's not something he can wave his hands and make fair. Any more than he could ever wave his hands and stop giving a damn. Than he could wave his hands, and step back, and stop kissing Danny now. Matching fever and want, and, sure, maybe even a icy vein of fear.
Now that Danny really has had a taste of part of why Steve said he might wake up and decide he was done with it all.
When he's shoving that down, shoving it out, curling his fingers into Danny's hair, pulling him close enough teeth snap for a moment, when he wants to shove him against a wall, and make him understand. Everything else is nothing next to him. They didn't matter. Most of his world didn't matter compared to Danny, or made itself resemble an odd wasteland that was still somewhere above surviving, with highlights of laughter and smiling moments drug out from him, only because of Danny.
Yeah, and Five-0. But mostly Danny. Who it seemed this was all he could pay back with, whether of his own idea's or Danny's.