It's not totally unbelievable, but it's definitely not the truth. When he's still watching Steve, a little more keenly now, even if Steve isn't looking back at him.
He's not sure anything's wrong, exactly. It seems like an imprecise term for the strange shuttered thoughtfulness on Steve's face, the careful consolidation there, like he's reteaching his face to not mirror his thoughts. As if that could happen. Steve can play a part with the best of them, but not like this, not right now, not without Danny knowing the difference.
But he's not stiff, just still. His hand is still in Danny's hair, and he hasn't pulled away; has only drawn slightly closer, fingers gripping gently, like he's drawing himself back, into this. Right now. From wherever he went in his head. As if any option for that could be a good one, this month.
Leaving Danny with two choices: to push at it, or let it slide. Either way, mouth pressing slightly, considering, making a little mm-hmm noise of neutral agreement, just skeptical enough to illustrate the fact that he's not, a hundred percent, buying it. "Okay."
Not arguing, but not agreeing, either, while shifting a little towards Steve. If all he's got to go on is a not-quite-truth and the flex of Steve's fingers in his hair, he'll go with the latter, lift his hand from Steve's hip to his face, and tip it, palm steady against the angle of his jaw, fingers spread wide, before leaning in to kiss him.
Feeling like it's a deep breath after being underwater for hours, even now, after all that, after Steve demanding his mouth and spinning Danny's head with kisses. It's not like those. Slow. A little lazy and indulgent. But that hand at his jaw, like he's telling Steve to focus.
Who needs it. Anything that would make him look like that. It's not necessary, here and now.
no subject
He's not sure anything's wrong, exactly. It seems like an imprecise term for the strange shuttered thoughtfulness on Steve's face, the careful consolidation there, like he's reteaching his face to not mirror his thoughts. As if that could happen. Steve can play a part with the best of them, but not like this, not right now, not without Danny knowing the difference.
But he's not stiff, just still. His hand is still in Danny's hair, and he hasn't pulled away; has only drawn slightly closer, fingers gripping gently, like he's drawing himself back, into this. Right now. From wherever he went in his head. As if any option for that could be a good one, this month.
Leaving Danny with two choices: to push at it, or let it slide. Either way, mouth pressing slightly, considering, making a little mm-hmm noise of neutral agreement, just skeptical enough to illustrate the fact that he's not, a hundred percent, buying it. "Okay."
Not arguing, but not agreeing, either, while shifting a little towards Steve. If all he's got to go on is a not-quite-truth and the flex of Steve's fingers in his hair, he'll go with the latter, lift his hand from Steve's hip to his face, and tip it, palm steady against the angle of his jaw, fingers spread wide, before leaning in to kiss him.
Feeling like it's a deep breath after being underwater for hours, even now, after all that, after Steve demanding his mouth and spinning Danny's head with kisses. It's not like those. Slow. A little lazy and indulgent. But that hand at his jaw, like he's telling Steve to focus.
Who needs it. Anything that would make him look like that. It's not necessary, here and now.