Steve can go long periods of time without breathing. It helps when swimming. Or anywhere the altitude is thinner. It's not usually a concern. A lot of the time it can even come in handy as a perk he didn't know he needed until he was needing it during something. Or not breathing through something. Where one would usually need to. Holding his breath isn't the problem. But then holding his breath doesn't stop the sudden richotte like someone shot him.
When Danny reaches out, or at least it looked like he was going to, and then stopped. Shifted, rubbed at his mouth, dropping his hand like it might have been on fire, and walked away.
Leaving Steve staring. Breathless. The world cracking everywhere. He'd fucked up everything. Everything.
It wasn't bad enough he couldn't make it work with Cath, and now he was showing Danny out with a case, too. He should have known days ago, when it came up. He should have stopped it as soon as Danny tried to kiss him, telling him not to punch Danny in the face. Because that's what anyone else would do, right? Punch a guy in the face for kissing him. Punch him for overstepping every personal boundary. Puch him for the audacity of being touched.
Because those stupid moments, where the air vanished, or where hugs lingered, hands and smiles, weren't anything but that. Moments. A hook. A snag. Nothing real. Or, at least, nothing more real than a slightly more intense than usual bond of friendship. He'd always known. He'd accepted that. Years ago. Why had he let it come rushing out tonight. What excuse was there at all for shoving his tongue down Danny's throat, letting his hands get all over Danny. Having undone his vest. For his mouth against Danny's neck. His whole weight, all of him pinning Danny.
None of it was worth it. A fuck wasn't worth it. A feel up couldn't get close.
But he could screw them both of everything. So badly that Danny didn't even want to touch him now.
Danny snaps at him and Steve, following, can't avoid the acknowledgement Danny's already at the passenger side door. Which means he's driving. Danny's just going along with it. Status quo. The norm. Steve should want to drive. Danny should just stay out of his way. Except he doesn't say anything about. He just goes there. absolutely silent about the fact he's putting Steve into the seat for driving, while prodding Steve about not moving fast enough.
He can make this fast. For both of them. The camaro is good at that. Fast.
They can get in, get there, and he can get out. They can both try to forget all of this.
"In a rush much?" Steve makes himself say. Gruff, and with an eye roll. Shove himself to something normal. Something blink. Something as far from that building as possible. Stepping around the silver hood and getting toward his door, while he held up a hand a target. "Keys." Beat. "Unless you aren't planning on letting us get anywhere anyway."
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Steve can go long periods of time without breathing. It helps when swimming. Or anywhere the altitude is thinner. It's not usually a concern. A lot of the time it can even come in handy as a perk he didn't know he needed until he was needing it during something. Or not breathing through something. Where one would usually need to. Holding his breath isn't the problem. But then holding his breath doesn't stop the sudden richotte like someone shot him.
When Danny reaches out, or at least it looked like he was going to, and then stopped.
Shifted, rubbed at his mouth, dropping his hand like it might have been on fire, and walked away.
Leaving Steve staring. Breathless. The world cracking everywhere. He'd fucked up everything. Everything.
It wasn't bad enough he couldn't make it work with Cath, and now he was showing Danny out with a case, too. He should have known days ago, when it came up. He should have stopped it as soon as Danny tried to kiss him, telling him not to punch Danny in the face. Because that's what anyone else would do, right? Punch a guy in the face for kissing him. Punch him for overstepping every personal boundary. Puch him for the audacity of being touched.
Because those stupid moments, where the air vanished, or where hugs lingered, hands and smiles, weren't anything but that. Moments. A hook. A snag. Nothing real. Or, at least, nothing more real than a slightly more intense than usual bond of friendship. He'd always known. He'd accepted that. Years ago. Why had he let it come rushing out tonight. What excuse was there at all for shoving his tongue down Danny's throat, letting his hands get all over Danny. Having undone his vest. For his mouth against Danny's neck. His whole weight, all of him pinning Danny.
None of it was worth it. A fuck wasn't worth it. A feel up couldn't get close.
But he could screw them both of everything. So badly that Danny didn't even want to touch him now.
Danny snaps at him and Steve, following, can't avoid the acknowledgement Danny's already at the passenger side door. Which means he's driving. Danny's just going along with it. Status quo. The norm. Steve should want to drive. Danny should just stay out of his way. Except he doesn't say anything about. He just goes there. absolutely silent about the fact he's putting Steve into the seat for driving, while prodding Steve about not moving fast enough.
He can make this fast. For both of them. The camaro is good at that. Fast.
They can get in, get there, and he can get out. They can both try to forget all of this.
"In a rush much?" Steve makes himself say. Gruff, and with an eye roll. Shove himself to something normal. Something blink. Something as far from that building as possible. Stepping around the silver hood and getting toward his door, while he held up a hand a target. "Keys." Beat. "Unless you aren't planning on letting us get anywhere anyway."