Wrong, Danny says, throwing his own single word answer back at him.
Wrong about the fact Danny hadn't been, even then, looking for something like this.
A guy? A guy like Steve? Steve? Except it's been years, and Danny is not someone anyone would feel they needed to give a pity fuck to. Or pity for any kind of attention. With those pants, and those shirts, and, sure, okay, maybe the loafers were still a little much. But it's not like he wouldn't turn heads in those places. But he'd never noticed. Even the first year, when that surfer and Toast both hit on him. Obvious as the sun flashing on the water. While Steve stood there smirking, laughing, chucking comments right along, and it went over Danny's head.
Or it didn't. Steve didn't know now. He did. He knew. He had to have known. He knew Danny. He did. He knew everything about Danny. Apparently, excepting that Danny was claustrophobic and liked men. Had. For who knows how long. That he's wrong. When Danny is throwing more and more words at him, mingling with his thoughts, neither of them giving dominance to the other or managing to cross the other out.
When he should be kissing Danny. Wasn't he just bitching at Danny, and complaining in his head, that this would all be easier if they were already kissing and no longer talking. How is that thought is the only one in his head, too loud and too distant when Steve ignores it all for -- "How long?"
How long has he not known this, too? How long has there been this whole other part of Danny's life that he didn't know? How long ago did Steve become part of it? How long has he missed this, too? Were there times when he could have been there for Danny during this, too? Whenever it started? However? Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't Danny told him? Because he was a cop? Because Steve was his boss, or he thought Steve wouldn't be okay with his choices, or that he'd --
Except he had. He'd said those even. That he expected Steve to punch him, fire him.
But that was today. That was his hands all over his body, and his mouth grafted to Steves.
And as desperate as he was for all of that, he still needed to know, what about every day before this one?
no subject
Wrong, Danny says, throwing his own single word answer back at him.
Wrong about the fact Danny hadn't been, even then, looking for something like this.
A guy? A guy like Steve? Steve? Except it's been years, and Danny is not someone anyone would feel they needed to give a pity fuck to. Or pity for any kind of attention. With those pants, and those shirts, and, sure, okay, maybe the loafers were still a little much. But it's not like he wouldn't turn heads in those places. But he'd never noticed. Even the first year, when that surfer and Toast both hit on him. Obvious as the sun flashing on the water. While Steve stood there smirking, laughing, chucking comments right along, and it went over Danny's head.
Or it didn't. Steve didn't know now. He did. He knew. He had to have known. He knew Danny. He did. He knew everything about Danny. Apparently, excepting that Danny was claustrophobic and liked men. Had. For who knows how long. That he's wrong. When Danny is throwing more and more words at him, mingling with his thoughts, neither of them giving dominance to the other or managing to cross the other out.
When he should be kissing Danny. Wasn't he just bitching at Danny, and complaining in his head, that this would all be easier if they were already kissing and no longer talking. How is that thought is the only one in his head, too loud and too distant when Steve ignores it all for -- "How long?"
How long has he not known this, too? How long has there been this whole other part of Danny's life that he didn't know? How long ago did Steve become part of it? How long has he missed this, too? Were there times when he could have been there for Danny during this, too? Whenever it started? However? Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't Danny told him? Because he was a cop? Because Steve was his boss, or he thought Steve wouldn't be okay with his choices, or that he'd --
Except he had. He'd said those even. That he expected Steve to punch him, fire him.
But that was today. That was his hands all over his body, and his mouth grafted to Steves.
And as desperate as he was for all of that, he still needed to know, what about every day before this one?