"Did that seem like an invitation to have a discussion to you?"
Okay, fine. He brought them up, but that's different, he wasn't the one they were after all night, and frankly every time Steve implied he hadn't noticed anyone else at bar at all, he'd felt a little smoother, a little less on the edge of a threatened implosion of his skull.
The last thing he wants is for Steve to be thinking about those three girls -- or anyone else, at all, anyone -- right now, when there is zero reason to even consider the existence of other human beings. Flirtatious girls, angry ex-wives, mothers who aren't as dead as previously thought -- they can all just vanish, as far as Danny's concerned; can go up in a flash of flame and go away.
It's not like they won't all come back, but later, later. A few minutes without them, this without them, is all he's really asking for.
Which leads into shoving at Steve, and it goes straight to his head, like always, like the belt of good whiskey, that Steve lets him. Lets Danny push him around, here, like he lets Danny get between him and whatever unfortunate soul is about to get squashed like a bug, allows a touch to hold him back. As Danny's dragging his arms out of clinging fabric, shoving it away, impatient, wanting to get his hands back there, on Steve, because Steve should not be thinking about that, should not be thinking anything at all.
Reaching back to find a hip, the back of Steve's head, push into a kiss that will at least shut him up, if nothing else.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-06 05:23 pm (UTC)Okay, fine. He brought them up, but that's different, he wasn't the one they were after all night, and frankly every time Steve implied he hadn't noticed anyone else at bar at all, he'd felt a little smoother, a little less on the edge of a threatened implosion of his skull.
The last thing he wants is for Steve to be thinking about those three girls -- or anyone else, at all, anyone -- right now, when there is zero reason to even consider the existence of other human beings. Flirtatious girls, angry ex-wives, mothers who aren't as dead as previously thought -- they can all just vanish, as far as Danny's concerned; can go up in a flash of flame and go away.
It's not like they won't all come back, but later, later. A few minutes without them, this without them, is all he's really asking for.
Which leads into shoving at Steve, and it goes straight to his head, like always, like the belt of good whiskey, that Steve lets him. Lets Danny push him around, here, like he lets Danny get between him and whatever unfortunate soul is about to get squashed like a bug, allows a touch to hold him back. As Danny's dragging his arms out of clinging fabric, shoving it away, impatient, wanting to get his hands back there, on Steve, because Steve should not be thinking about that, should not be thinking anything at all.
Reaching back to find a hip, the back of Steve's head, push into a kiss that will at least shut him up, if nothing else.