The ring of heat is still on his wrist when he's walking away. His back to Danny. Hands straightening his jacket back correctly, even if he doesn't go as far as to retuck the rumpled parts of his shirt under it. Does note as he's smoothing the lines that his rose is completely messed up now. Missing petals and mashed up against itself. Them. Only the ribbon looks unfettered by what just happened. Steve's wished to be a lot of things in his life. A ribbon wasn't ever one of them.
Steve'd rather start carving strips of his skin than let his mind wander. Except it won't stop. The taste of scotch and Danny is like an echo in his mouth, even when he can't taste it on his tongue or his teeth. It feels like there's the heat of a sunburn loitering over too much of him. Shoulder, back, stomach. He'd like to find an ice bucket and shove his hand in it, so he could relieve the rest of his reaction to what just happened. Make it stop before it was noticed.
He's supposed to be a cop. Even if he isn't. A SEAL. No matter who or where he is.
He is not, within any realm or regard, supposed to look like one of the perverted patrons of this place.
There is no place to headbutt a column. There's really no place to go, and no place to spend thinking about all of this. Because he never goes out the door either. He does open it. But he doesn't step through. Gives the suited bouncer barely a look, before looking over his shoulder. Back to where Danny is already gone, and there's the shape of someone following. He meant to say, Nevermind.
But it never came out.
Because he's waiting. Only the pause of handful of heartbeats. Only enough to watch the man slip through the same opening where Danny must have gone, before he's following. Only one of two people even looking up as he crossed. Busy with themselves. One of them may have tried to say something but he barely registered the voice even, as he was crossing the space. Soundlessly specific, following after both of them.
The weight of his gun in his pant leg welcome shift of focus from any other part of his clothes. But he needed to wait. They needed this to go down right. Incriminating. Toss the book because it's too easy. Not just him decided to fly after the guy and deck him into the wall. The floor. Not just because Steve needed someone to take out the fierce, heavy darkness suddenly surrounding everything in his head.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-16 01:32 am (UTC)The ring of heat is still on his wrist when he's walking away. His back to Danny. Hands straightening his jacket back correctly, even if he doesn't go as far as to retuck the rumpled parts of his shirt under it. Does note as he's smoothing the lines that his rose is completely messed up now. Missing petals and mashed up against itself. Them. Only the ribbon looks unfettered by what just happened. Steve's wished to be a lot of things in his life. A ribbon wasn't ever one of them.
Steve'd rather start carving strips of his skin than let his mind wander. Except it won't stop. The taste of scotch and Danny is like an echo in his mouth, even when he can't taste it on his tongue or his teeth. It feels like there's the heat of a sunburn loitering over too much of him. Shoulder, back, stomach. He'd like to find an ice bucket and shove his hand in it, so he could relieve the rest of his reaction to what just happened. Make it stop before it was noticed.
He's supposed to be a cop. Even if he isn't. A SEAL. No matter who or where he is.
He is not, within any realm or regard, supposed to look like one of the perverted patrons of this place.
There is no place to headbutt a column. There's really no place to go, and no place to spend thinking about all of this. Because he never goes out the door either. He does open it. But he doesn't step through. Gives the suited bouncer barely a look, before looking over his shoulder. Back to where Danny is already gone, and there's the shape of someone following. He meant to say, Nevermind.
But it never came out.
Because he's waiting. Only the pause of handful of heartbeats. Only enough to watch the man slip through the same opening where Danny must have gone, before he's following. Only one of two people even looking up as he crossed. Busy with themselves. One of them may have tried to say something but he barely registered the voice even, as he was crossing the space. Soundlessly specific, following after both of them.
The weight of his gun in his pant leg welcome shift of focus from any other part of his clothes. But he needed to wait. They needed this to go down right. Incriminating. Toss the book because it's too easy. Not just him decided to fly after the guy and deck him into the wall. The floor. Not just because Steve needed someone to take out the fierce, heavy darkness suddenly surrounding everything in his head.