He's not ready for it. Either. The way Steve looks at him, like a mask just peeled away and burnt up before hitting the ground, like a meteor, and said that. No. Stopping up everything in Danny's chest, setting a match to the gas bubble in his head. I want you.
Refusing to go along with the jokes, even when he's the one who started them -- except then he'd been groaning into Danny's mouth, and threatening him with not being able to wait, with right here, right now, because somehow, impossibly, that is a thing that is true. That Steve wants Danny so much it's an effort not to have him right here, against the door. On the floor. Even the couch, less than ten steps away, too far.
Three words that maybe shouldn't mean anything, that are tossed around every day. Want such a nebulous, tame thing. He wants coffee. Wants to see Grace. Wants to do a good job. Wants to make it through another day without taking a bullet or wrecking the car. There are a lot of things both of them want.
But Danny's never heard Steve say it like this. Like how he said Danny's name, earlier. Like the word itself is a match striking, or the tick-tick-tick of a cartoon time bomb. He knows Steve is dangerous. He just never thought, could have imagined, he'd see it like this.
When Steve's crushing him into a kiss, and destroying Danny's air, and then stepping back, with that growled, snapped order, like Danny's pissing him off. Maybe he is. Stumbling forward, releasing the cuff of his fingers to find Steve's side, instead, someplace he can grip to try and keep his balance as Steve drags him, them, both, towards the stairs. Through this room he's walked across so many times.
Hauling Danny bodily across it like Danny is not a grown man and doesn't know where the goddamn stairs are. "Hey!"
When he can catch a breath, smacking at Steve's shoulder even as they're stumbling towards the stairs, his shoes catching on carpet and hardwood and making him consider just how much harder it is to try and get to a place when a six foot something SEAL is both in his way and refusing to let go. "Traditionally, stairs are meant to be walked up, not crashed into, Steven. You want me to break my neck, tripping over your stupid giant feet, or do you want to get up there in one piece, huh?"
no subject
He's not ready for it. Either. The way Steve looks at him, like a mask just peeled away and burnt up before hitting the ground, like a meteor, and said that. No. Stopping up everything in Danny's chest, setting a match to the gas bubble in his head. I want you.
Refusing to go along with the jokes, even when he's the one who started them -- except then he'd been groaning into Danny's mouth, and threatening him with not being able to wait, with right here, right now, because somehow, impossibly, that is a thing that is true. That Steve wants Danny so much it's an effort not to have him right here, against the door. On the floor. Even the couch, less than ten steps away, too far.
Three words that maybe shouldn't mean anything, that are tossed around every day. Want such a nebulous, tame thing. He wants coffee. Wants to see Grace. Wants to do a good job. Wants to make it through another day without taking a bullet or wrecking the car. There are a lot of things both of them want.
But Danny's never heard Steve say it like this. Like how he said Danny's name, earlier. Like the word itself is a match striking, or the tick-tick-tick of a cartoon time bomb. He knows Steve is dangerous. He just never thought, could have imagined, he'd see it like this.
When Steve's crushing him into a kiss, and destroying Danny's air, and then stepping back, with that growled, snapped order, like Danny's pissing him off. Maybe he is. Stumbling forward, releasing the cuff of his fingers to find Steve's side, instead, someplace he can grip to try and keep his balance as Steve drags him, them, both, towards the stairs. Through this room he's walked across so many times.
Hauling Danny bodily across it like Danny is not a grown man and doesn't know where the goddamn stairs are. "Hey!"
When he can catch a breath, smacking at Steve's shoulder even as they're stumbling towards the stairs, his shoes catching on carpet and hardwood and making him consider just how much harder it is to try and get to a place when a six foot something SEAL is both in his way and refusing to let go. "Traditionally, stairs are meant to be walked up, not crashed into, Steven. You want me to break my neck, tripping over your stupid giant feet, or do you want to get up there in one piece, huh?"