Steve doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to: it's written on his face like someone pulled down a chalkboard across it and scrawled letters there. That it's both been years, and that Danny wasn't supposed to know.
Which. Well. Explains why he didn't. And he knows why, even if his brain keeps restarting every time he tries to wrap it around the concept of Steve wanted him for years.
Because he didn't say anything, either. Did absolutely everything in his power to make sure Steve never knew, when lying is anathema to his whole being and he's never been able to keep his feelings either stifled or concealed. Which meant they pushed out in strange, obvious ways that he was always sure Steve would see and finally understand: jealousy about Cath, annoyance with the United States Navy and their penchant for plucking Steve up and sending him away without notice. His fury with Steve, every time Steve left without saying anything or asking for backup, or did something deadly and stupid, or was reckless to get the job done, like there wasn't anyone who might miss him once he was gone.
Flying halfway around the world to be there at his hospital bedside. Being here to listen to his worries and suspicions about Doris, about Cath, about Wo Fat. Not leaving the hospital for that whole first, terrible night and day, after they found him in that room, with Wo Fat's body at his side.
His mouth is working, but it's soundless. So flummoxed even his trusty words have failed him, because it's too big to try and hold, too big to try and break into bite-sized pieces, even.
Steve's wanted him for years. Including, probably, most of, or all of, the years Danny spent so much time and energy making sure Steve never knew that Danny wanted any of this, because Danny wasn't supposed to, and it was never going to happen.
Except not never. Except it was there, and he missed it.
It'll hit soon enough, he knows: the regret and the guilt and the anger and sick disgust at himself, for having wasted time that he had no idea was even an option, but for now, all he can do is stare at Steve, and want to swear he won't miss another second.
Not a single one. If Steve wants this. Him. Still. "And here I was, trying to make sure you never had to know about this. When that whole time --"
Shaking his head. Feeling like a mat that needs to be peeled up off the floor. "Jesus Christ, I can't believe I missed it."
He can't believe they could have been here, years ago. Years ago. How much would have changed. If it might have worked out. If there's even the slightest chance that three years ago could have seen them still here, today. "When we could have --"
If he lets himself think about it, those years are going to swallow him whole with all their unknowable possibilities. And it's not even true, maybe. If he'd told Steve back then, it still might not have ended like this. It might have blown up on their faces. It might have been the worst decision they ever made.
But. They could have tried it, at the very least. He wouldn't have had to wait those years since.
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Steve doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to: it's written on his face like someone pulled down a chalkboard across it and scrawled letters there. That it's both been years, and that Danny wasn't supposed to know.
Which. Well. Explains why he didn't. And he knows why, even if his brain keeps restarting every time he tries to wrap it around the concept of Steve wanted him for years.
Because he didn't say anything, either. Did absolutely everything in his power to make sure Steve never knew, when lying is anathema to his whole being and he's never been able to keep his feelings either stifled or concealed. Which meant they pushed out in strange, obvious ways that he was always sure Steve would see and finally understand: jealousy about Cath, annoyance with the United States Navy and their penchant for plucking Steve up and sending him away without notice. His fury with Steve, every time Steve left without saying anything or asking for backup, or did something deadly and stupid, or was reckless to get the job done, like there wasn't anyone who might miss him once he was gone.
Flying halfway around the world to be there at his hospital bedside. Being here to listen to his worries and suspicions about Doris, about Cath, about Wo Fat. Not leaving the hospital for that whole first, terrible night and day, after they found him in that room, with Wo Fat's body at his side.
His mouth is working, but it's soundless. So flummoxed even his trusty words have failed him, because it's too big to try and hold, too big to try and break into bite-sized pieces, even.
Steve's wanted him for years. Including, probably, most of, or all of, the years Danny spent so much time and energy making sure Steve never knew that Danny wanted any of this, because Danny wasn't supposed to, and it was never going to happen.
Except not never. Except it was there, and he missed it.
It'll hit soon enough, he knows: the regret and the guilt and the anger and sick disgust at himself, for having wasted time that he had no idea was even an option, but for now, all he can do is stare at Steve, and want to swear he won't miss another second.
Not a single one. If Steve wants this. Him. Still. "And here I was, trying to make sure you never had to know about this. When that whole time --"
Shaking his head. Feeling like a mat that needs to be peeled up off the floor. "Jesus Christ, I can't believe I missed it."
He can't believe they could have been here, years ago. Years ago. How much would have changed. If it might have worked out. If there's even the slightest chance that three years ago could have seen them still here, today. "When we could have --"
If he lets himself think about it, those years are going to swallow him whole with all their unknowable possibilities. And it's not even true, maybe. If he'd told Steve back then, it still might not have ended like this. It might have blown up on their faces. It might have been the worst decision they ever made.
But. They could have tried it, at the very least. He wouldn't have had to wait those years since.
And, apparently, neither would Steve.