Steve stared out the front windshield, again, bungling the stillness with how oddly familiar everything was.
Even in not being able to place it all, even in the idea he might not have seen it all even when he was young. There's an air of familiarity to all of it. The way people tie their bathing suit skirts. The cant of their heads when they talk. The loose hold of shoulders and that every present smiling. Even the way the wind blows through the trees as the car is flying past them. It's all eerily, frozen fingertips trailing up his spine, stepped on his grave, familiar.
Or his fathers'. The only thing that could get him out here in the last decade, more dedicated to his work than anything else. Not that either of them had made any bones about needing or wanting that to be anything other than what it had been since he was a kid. But that voice, and all its last words, stuck, like an ear worm dug in, Hey, Champ and Listen to me, Champ. Apologizing for lying to him, about what, Steve still didn't know. Saying that he loved him. When those words were more foreign than any foreign language.
Which was a fitting time for the car to suddenly explode in the small sounds of a horror movie, making Steve look toward that side again. Bypassing the silent radio and looking at Danny looking at his phone, facial features tightened as he hit a button and threw the phone back in the center console. Not that the man was looking for pointers, but Steve always found horror movies the perfect way, back when, to a girl into your lap, more than to be a warning against a person.
Which could be only one person. Given Danny Williams easily broke down on a logic wall. He had had less than a dozen connections here, even for his half a year, but his relationship with his captain, partner and work was effective, even if antagonistic, which only left one person for it to be.
Steve looked back toward the window as Danny did. "Take it your marriage didn't end so well."
no subject
Even in not being able to place it all, even in the idea he might not have seen it all even when he was young. There's an air of familiarity to all of it. The way people tie their bathing suit skirts. The cant of their heads when they talk. The loose hold of shoulders and that every present smiling. Even the way the wind blows through the trees as the car is flying past them. It's all eerily, frozen fingertips trailing up his spine, stepped on his grave, familiar.
Or his fathers'. The only thing that could get him out here in the last decade, more dedicated to his work than anything else. Not that either of them had made any bones about needing or wanting that to be anything other than what it had been since he was a kid. But that voice, and all its last words, stuck, like an ear worm dug in, Hey, Champ and Listen to me, Champ. Apologizing for lying to him, about what, Steve still didn't know. Saying that he loved him. When those words were more foreign than any foreign language.
Which was a fitting time for the car to suddenly explode in the small sounds of a horror movie, making Steve look toward that side again. Bypassing the silent radio and looking at Danny looking at his phone, facial features tightened as he hit a button and threw the phone back in the center console. Not that the man was looking for pointers, but Steve always found horror movies the perfect way, back when, to a girl into your lap, more than to be a warning against a person.
Which could be only one person. Given Danny Williams easily broke down on a logic wall. He had had less than a dozen connections here, even for his half a year, but his relationship with his captain, partner and work was effective, even if antagonistic, which only left one person for it to be.
Steve looked back toward the window as Danny did. "Take it your marriage didn't end so well."