He needs Danny to stop looking at him like this. Like he's been plugged into a light socket and blown. His edges all singed, and his face a riot of. Steve doesn't even know. He can't stare at it. He can't parse it. He can't stop and figure it out. He only knows certain seconds of it as it catches under his feet, while he's dragging Danny and Danny is following, relating more. Every single sign that Danny was wrong. That Danny is in over his head. That Danny takes it back.
This is why it was a lie, broad stroked. I would have gone with the gay thing.
He probably would have when there was a closed door, and no one had to see them. As the cover of words. When Steve didn't have to throw himself at Danny like a cheap suit -- even if this suit, and this place -- is nothing like cheap. Even if it feels it right now. When his hands are pulling on Danny by the now-unbuttoned sides of his vest. Like he's supposed to. Like he's allowed. Like nothing is wrong except that even this room has more going on in it than Steve wants.
Like he can't tell. That something is very, very, very wrong.
The way he knows, with one look, when everyone else just think Danny's being a miserable grump. Which is the look Danny has right now. When he doesn't even pretend as they're walking. It's going to be bad.
"Good," he says, forcing himself to keep the loose, caustic smile he pulled out. Like Danny said something perfect to him.In another conversation, between two other people neither of them will ever be.
Like Danny isn't drifting further and further from him in this education he didn't need. This plan that they could have found some other way to go about handling. He should have stopped it. Shouldn't have taken Danny at his word. All bravado and jokes. Everyone laughing and saying it would be a walk in the park. When it was everything but. He's an asshole for enjoying any second of Danny's hands. Or that kiss. Not stopping himself when he should have. Before he fucked everything over without thinking. Like Danny is always screaming at him about.
The hallway isn't too long, but there's definitely less lighting, Steve can see, the closer they get. Even if Steve wants to drop his hands, wants to tell Danny something along the lines of you're doing good or it's fine, they're too far in now. They need him him to be interested in them, or to just choose a mark. One Steve would rather was them. Because it would be cleaner. Because he wants that now. Something to break for everything he's broken. Still breaking.
He hates himself. That guy. The night. The year, maybe. Especially when pulls Danny to one side to be able to see the guy, again before, he pushes Danny into the door frame like he'd gotten impatient, with not being able to touch him, pulling him across the room. Needing to not vanish in a puff of smoke entirely down the hallway, but keep the guys attention. On them. Over here. Give him something to chase down, already headed somewhere dark and private. Away from the crowd.
Steve feels sick with himself, for the way his chest is out of air and not gaining any back.
Remotely. "Only a little longer now." Maybe it's supposed to be an apology. Or a promise. He doesn't know if it's to Danny for hating him for tonight, or himself for that same thing. Especially when he leans in to kiss Danny again. Thinking it was never supposed to happen, but it was never supposed to be like this. He'll be pretending for weeks to Danny that this was nothing, nothing but doing the job, and he'll be trying to drown it every other second.
Because finding Danny's mouth again is like stepping into lava and expecting to somehow be able to keep standing. Which he will. He has to. For Danny. For Danny he has to be better than even he'd be for the case. For Danny.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-15 01:20 am (UTC)He needs Danny to stop looking at him like this. Like he's been plugged into a light socket and blown. His edges all singed, and his face a riot of. Steve doesn't even know. He can't stare at it. He can't parse it. He can't stop and figure it out. He only knows certain seconds of it as it catches under his feet, while he's dragging Danny and Danny is following, relating more. Every single sign that Danny was wrong. That Danny is in over his head. That Danny takes it back.
This is why it was a lie, broad stroked. I would have gone with the gay thing.
He probably would have when there was a closed door, and no one had to see them. As the cover of words. When Steve didn't have to throw himself at Danny like a cheap suit -- even if this suit, and this place -- is nothing like cheap. Even if it feels it right now. When his hands are pulling on Danny by the now-unbuttoned sides of his vest. Like he's supposed to. Like he's allowed. Like nothing is wrong except that even this room has more going on in it than Steve wants.
Like he can't tell. That something is very, very, very wrong.
The way he knows, with one look, when everyone else just think Danny's being a miserable grump.
Which is the look Danny has right now. When he doesn't even pretend as they're walking. It's going to be bad.
"Good," he says, forcing himself to keep the loose, caustic smile he pulled out. Like Danny said something perfect to him.In another conversation, between two other people neither of them will ever be.
Like Danny isn't drifting further and further from him in this education he didn't need. This plan that they could have found some other way to go about handling. He should have stopped it. Shouldn't have taken Danny at his word. All bravado and jokes. Everyone laughing and saying it would be a walk in the park. When it was everything but. He's an asshole for enjoying any second of Danny's hands. Or that kiss. Not stopping himself when he should have. Before he fucked everything over without thinking. Like Danny is always screaming at him about.
The hallway isn't too long, but there's definitely less lighting, Steve can see, the closer they get. Even if Steve wants to drop his hands, wants to tell Danny something along the lines of you're doing good or it's fine, they're too far in now. They need him him to be interested in them, or to just choose a mark. One Steve would rather was them. Because it would be cleaner. Because he wants that now. Something to break for everything he's broken. Still breaking.
He hates himself. That guy. The night. The year, maybe. Especially when pulls Danny to one side to be able to see the guy, again before, he pushes Danny into the door frame like he'd gotten impatient, with not being able to touch him, pulling him across the room. Needing to not vanish in a puff of smoke entirely down the hallway, but keep the guys attention. On them. Over here. Give him something to chase down, already headed somewhere dark and private. Away from the crowd.
Steve feels sick with himself, for the way his chest is out of air and not gaining any back.
Remotely. "Only a little longer now." Maybe it's supposed to be an apology. Or a promise. He doesn't know if it's to Danny for hating him for tonight, or himself for that same thing. Especially when he leans in to kiss Danny again. Thinking it was never supposed to happen, but it was never supposed to be like this. He'll be pretending for weeks to Danny that this was nothing, nothing but doing the job, and he'll be trying to drown it every other second.
Because finding Danny's mouth again is like stepping into lava and expecting to somehow be able to keep standing.
Which he will. He has to. For Danny. For Danny he has to be better than even he'd be for the case. For Danny.