Danny comes along, the way Danny's supposed to come along.
Half following and half jumping to his side, to be right there with him.
Excited to get into this part of the night. This thing he paid for, even if Danny didn't use it as the excuse. Steve not even remembering the paid for, but untouched, wine glasses until Danny's hand is finding the middle of his back and he's trying not tense up at all or look back to the next pair of wine glasses bought and lost here. But not important anymore. Not the glasses. Not the hand on his back, pushing him forward.
Only the man neither of them is looking at, whom Steve is positive is following their every move. Will follow them.
Steve wishes impossibly that he was already making his move, so Steve could take everything jangling in his veins, in his lengthening breaths, as breathing normally comes back, out on that man. He would love any excuse to take the man down, as physically as possible at this second. This exact one, when he grins down at Danny at his shoulder, and leans in, with what sounds like half a joke and half a smoldering promise, all covered in absolutely certainty. "I'm always worth it."
He says it like he buys it. He says like he always says it to Danny like it nothing in the world could be the truth. Like everyone else in the world agrees. And not like the words hit some sore spot he doesn't want to look at. That makes him feel too old, too settled into being one thing that can never be another thing, too certain that he's gotten all the proof he really ever needed about that now. Things he's not looking at. Things that are buried in other boxes. With other people.
Left behind as just a pressed on sore spot that's absolved to nothingness as the man at the door takes one look at the flower and ribbon on his lapel and opens the door for them. There is not 'gentleman' from this one. No smile. Just a nod, to let them in. He's not staff. He's security. He's broad and wide, and Steve has to wonder without casing him too obviously what branch of the military or something like it he might have come from. Or whether it's all appearance and he's rough under the collar, too.
He doesn't have time for that either, though, when they are walking through into the back area that Steve hadn't many specs for but a rather broad idea of what he'd fine. But that every single thing he could set his eyes on --
another wide room, full of wide booths, viewing area seating, a handful of stages, at least a dozen doors, some closed and some open, in the walls, people closer than shadows all over those places, in sets of two and even more than sets, some people still fully dressed to the nines and some decidedly gotten to a looser state even out in the open, jackets and shirt disarrayed or half lost, waiters with those same regimentally tailored tuxes carrying things to and fro, and half of those everywhere with the same flower and ribbon as him
-- was just that much more evidence that would make even one of their testimonies close this place in a single day.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-14 01:35 am (UTC)Danny comes along, the way Danny's supposed to come along.
Half following and half jumping to his side, to be right there with him.
Excited to get into this part of the night. This thing he paid for, even if Danny didn't use it as the excuse. Steve not even remembering the paid for, but untouched, wine glasses until Danny's hand is finding the middle of his back and he's trying not tense up at all or look back to the next pair of wine glasses bought and lost here. But not important anymore. Not the glasses. Not the hand on his back, pushing him forward.
Only the man neither of them is looking at, whom Steve is positive is following their every move. Will follow them.
Steve wishes impossibly that he was already making his move, so Steve could take everything jangling in his veins, in his lengthening breaths, as breathing normally comes back, out on that man. He would love any excuse to take the man down, as physically as possible at this second. This exact one, when he grins down at Danny at his shoulder, and leans in, with what sounds like half a joke and half a smoldering promise, all covered in absolutely certainty. "I'm always worth it."
He says it like he buys it. He says like he always says it to Danny like it nothing in the world could be the truth. Like everyone else in the world agrees. And not like the words hit some sore spot he doesn't want to look at. That makes him feel too old, too settled into being one thing that can never be another thing, too certain that he's gotten all the proof he really ever needed about that now. Things he's not looking at. Things that are buried in other boxes. With other people.
Left behind as just a pressed on sore spot that's absolved to nothingness as the man at the door takes one look at the flower and ribbon on his lapel and opens the door for them. There is not 'gentleman' from this one. No smile. Just a nod, to let them in. He's not staff. He's security. He's broad and wide, and Steve has to wonder without casing him too obviously what branch of the military or something like it he might have come from. Or whether it's all appearance and he's rough under the collar, too.
He doesn't have time for that either, though, when they are walking through into the back area that Steve hadn't many specs for but a rather broad idea of what he'd fine. But that every single thing he could set his eyes on --
another wide room, full of wide booths, viewing area seating, a handful of stages, at least a dozen doors, some closed and some open, in the walls, people closer than shadows all over those places, in sets of two and even more than sets, some people still fully dressed to the nines and some decidedly gotten to a looser state even out in the open, jackets and shirt disarrayed or half lost, waiters with those same regimentally tailored tuxes carrying things to and fro, and half of those everywhere with the same flower and ribbon as him
-- was just that much more evidence that would make even one of their testimonies close this place in a single day.