He doesn't always have a clue, what Danny is seeing when he takes a long second to look at him. Because Danny knows everything that's ever been anything (that Steve could share). Has looked at his face for over two years, so he can never write it off like that. Making Steve hold still while his insides twist like a child that won't hold still, like one of those tourist straining to cover any too available, too pale skin under a wrap.
He knows what the girls in the bar see. He knows he's attractive and as fit as he possibly can be at almost all times. He even knows what it looks like, catching it once or twice, when that looks burns, random and miraculous, on Danny's face when he looks up from doing something at work. And Danny snaps away, like he's been caught with a button out of place in public, flushing just noticeable enough he can see it because he is paying attention.
He knows what to do with that one. Maybe terribly. Getting in Danny's way. Leaning on the door to his office. Finding a reason to bug him. While smirking a little too much while Danny strives to either do his work, or Steve's work, or just stops and banters with him. Like there is no other thing to do. But this. This look he never knows what to do with.
Fingers sliding across his skin. All over. His shoulder. His neck. Across part of his chest. Up into his hair. Stopping kissing him to study his mouth, his face, like. He doesn't know. Like Danny's looking at them, as much as through them, at something else. Things Steve has no comprehension of whether or if he should apologize for. There's so much everywhere. He knows he's lucky that Danny. Well. Everything. All of this.
These things that weren't him. And Steve tries to keep it past tense. Sometimes it's present. But when Danny's busy stroking his skin, maddeningly like he's going to create a new language between it and his fingers, Steve has to shove it. The concept it wasn't, might not be. Hold on to this as much as stand confused by it.
Especially when Danny stops with those two words and Steve's brow furrows. Lines creasing up his forehead, between his raising eyebrows, when he rests his chin on the hand curved over Danny's shoulder under his own neck and chin from the moving. Letting that movement, this close, be as much the question as comes. When it could be about either of them or anything.
Or Danny just throwing words at the air like silence is as profane as anyone touching him.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-12 06:10 pm (UTC)He knows what the girls in the bar see. He knows he's attractive and as fit as he possibly can be at almost all times. He even knows what it looks like, catching it once or twice, when that looks burns, random and miraculous, on Danny's face when he looks up from doing something at work. And Danny snaps away, like he's been caught with a button out of place in public, flushing just noticeable enough he can see it because he is paying attention.
He knows what to do with that one. Maybe terribly. Getting in Danny's way. Leaning on the door to his office. Finding a reason to bug him. While smirking a little too much while Danny strives to either do his work, or Steve's work, or just stops and banters with him. Like there is no other thing to do. But this. This look he never knows what to do with.
Fingers sliding across his skin. All over. His shoulder. His neck. Across part of his chest. Up into his hair. Stopping kissing him to study his mouth, his face, like. He doesn't know. Like Danny's looking at them, as much as through them, at something else. Things Steve has no comprehension of whether or if he should apologize for. There's so much everywhere. He knows he's lucky that Danny. Well. Everything. All of this.
These things that weren't him. And Steve tries to keep it past tense. Sometimes it's present. But when Danny's busy stroking his skin, maddeningly like he's going to create a new language between it and his fingers, Steve has to shove it. The concept it wasn't, might not be. Hold on to this as much as stand confused by it.
Especially when Danny stops with those two words and Steve's brow furrows. Lines creasing up his forehead, between his raising eyebrows, when he rests his chin on the hand curved over Danny's shoulder under his own neck and chin from the moving. Letting that movement, this close, be as much the question as comes. When it could be about either of them or anything.
Or Danny just throwing words at the air like silence is as profane as anyone touching him.