"So what you're saying is you really are just waiting for the day when you get to beat the shit out of some poor petty criminal, totally naked?"
He catches the shirt that gets flung his way, and tosses it through the open door of the bedroom in response, taking actual pleasure in the way it lands, rumpled into a pile, on the floor. After Steve reamed him out for having clothes all over the place when he was off doing drill last year (and he just makes that little jump, smooth for the most part, rocking slightly on the landing), he hasn't seemed to give a damn where his clothes end up, these days, which is good. Considering they've been left downstairs. On the floor. Forgotten for hours.
Which is fine with Danny, even while he rolls his eyes, steps up on the landing behind Steve, hands fitting on skin suddenly bared, warm to the touch, under his palms, while he leans close to Steve's shoulder, breath gusting over smooth tan, skin a bare inch from being kissed. A laugh lying under his words. "Like you can keep your clothes on at all, babe."
That, thankfully, hasn't had to come up at work, yet. Since the last month. Aside from being out at sea, which doesn't count, and didn't need to be shared or policed by, from, anyone else.
Which isn't to say he doesn't still think he'll have to excuse himself to stick his head under the nearest faucet. And possibly stay about twenty feet away, at all times.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2012-12-05 02:44 am (UTC)He catches the shirt that gets flung his way, and tosses it through the open door of the bedroom in response, taking actual pleasure in the way it lands, rumpled into a pile, on the floor. After Steve reamed him out for having clothes all over the place when he was off doing drill last year (and he just makes that little jump, smooth for the most part, rocking slightly on the landing), he hasn't seemed to give a damn where his clothes end up, these days, which is good. Considering they've been left downstairs. On the floor. Forgotten for hours.
Which is fine with Danny, even while he rolls his eyes, steps up on the landing behind Steve, hands fitting on skin suddenly bared, warm to the touch, under his palms, while he leans close to Steve's shoulder, breath gusting over smooth tan, skin a bare inch from being kissed. A laugh lying under his words. "Like you can keep your clothes on at all, babe."
That, thankfully, hasn't had to come up at work, yet. Since the last month. Aside from being out at sea, which doesn't count, and didn't need to be shared or policed by, from, anyone else.
Which isn't to say he doesn't still think he'll have to excuse himself to stick his head under the nearest faucet. And possibly stay about twenty feet away, at all times.