Steve can't stop, because if Steve stops, one of them might start thinking, and Danny knows what will happen if he thinks about any of this too hard.
About what it will mean, past tonight. How it will change everything. Affect their partnership. Work. All the weekends, that somehow just became the norm, when he and Grace would come hang out with Steve, here at the house, ending with grease on Grace's nose from the engine of the Marquis, and Steve laughing as he steals Danny's beer, and all of them winding up out on the lanai, the grill going hot and slow and Grace swinging in the hammock or down by the water, while they relax.
It's a good life. Danny's not sure how it came about. The cookouts and holidays with the team. People at his back, who he would do anything for, die for. Who would do anything for him, in return. A house of his own. Grace, still never enough, but so much more than he ever thought he would get. Even Matt -- terrible as that ordeal was, terrible as it still is -- but home, found, safe.
And this. This thing he can't lose, and went into this house, tonight, sure that he would, desperate to do anything to keep it in one piece. Those weekends. The wild rides in the car. Bickering at each other over pancakes at some diner while the waitress looks on, amused.
So Danny can't think, because if he did, he might tell Steve to stop. Would need to talk about it, because Danny is a worrier and sensitive and everything Steve mocks him for being, and he'd give this up, in a second, if having it meant he lost all the rest.
He thinks he would. If he could think.
But Steve's fingers are in his hair, driving his head back, and Steve's mouth is on his, and instead of thinking, Danny's hands are at the lapels of Steve's coat, first gripping, and then pushing, and he's not thinking. He's not thinking about losing this. He's not thinking about losing Steve. He's not thinking about how lonely and empty those weekends would suddenly become, on the weeks when Grace is with Rachel. Isn't thinking about his job, and how he would have to find a new one.
Except how he's thinking about all of them at once, desperate and fearful, while Steve's hands run across his skin and Danny can't help thinking about how easily all of this could be destroyed. Anyway.
And how often both of them have stood and watched everything around them fall apart. How often is happens. And doesn't stop happening.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-28 12:58 am (UTC)Steve can't stop, because if Steve stops, one of them might start thinking, and Danny knows what will happen if he thinks about any of this too hard.
About what it will mean, past tonight. How it will change everything. Affect their partnership. Work. All the weekends, that somehow just became the norm, when he and Grace would come hang out with Steve, here at the house, ending with grease on Grace's nose from the engine of the Marquis, and Steve laughing as he steals Danny's beer, and all of them winding up out on the lanai, the grill going hot and slow and Grace swinging in the hammock or down by the water, while they relax.
It's a good life. Danny's not sure how it came about. The cookouts and holidays with the team. People at his back, who he would do anything for, die for. Who would do anything for him, in return. A house of his own. Grace, still never enough, but so much more than he ever thought he would get. Even Matt -- terrible as that ordeal was, terrible as it still is -- but home, found, safe.
And this. This thing he can't lose, and went into this house, tonight, sure that he would, desperate to do anything to keep it in one piece. Those weekends. The wild rides in the car. Bickering at each other over pancakes at some diner while the waitress looks on, amused.
So Danny can't think, because if he did, he might tell Steve to stop. Would need to talk about it, because Danny is a worrier and sensitive and everything Steve mocks him for being, and he'd give this up, in a second, if having it meant he lost all the rest.
He thinks he would. If he could think.
But Steve's fingers are in his hair, driving his head back, and Steve's mouth is on his, and instead of thinking, Danny's hands are at the lapels of Steve's coat, first gripping, and then pushing, and he's not thinking. He's not thinking about losing this. He's not thinking about losing Steve. He's not thinking about how lonely and empty those weekends would suddenly become, on the weeks when Grace is with Rachel. Isn't thinking about his job, and how he would have to find a new one.
Except how he's thinking about all of them at once, desperate and fearful, while Steve's hands run across his skin and Danny can't help thinking about how easily all of this could be destroyed. Anyway.
And how often both of them have stood and watched everything around them fall apart. How often is happens. And doesn't stop happening.