Danny is becoming more and more small restless movements, that keep pushing at Steve like a proof that he should have moved. Yet now that every sign that Danny is giving off is the need to move, to be away, walk around, use the full range of mountain from his hands to his shoulders, Steve doesn't want to let go or move at all. He doesn't want Danny to have woken up enough to suddenly be the one who needs Steve to move away and off of him.
Danny even rolls back his head, leaving it dead weight on the mattress, and just stares up, beyond all of this. At the ceiling that Steve knows too well. That there is nothing worth looking at up there, but that it doesn't stop it from happening. There being absolutely nothing else to do, because everything else is out of reach, elsewhere, or just not a capable, applicable happenstance for any of the several situations it slides through his head. Cath. Doris. Even, Danny.
But he doesn't want Danny anywhere else. Up there. Away from right here. Him. For right here where he's talking about.
Making Steve have to go bolder. More pointedly specific in his actions and his words. He leans into the space left open from Danny leaning his head back. Lets his lips follow the shoulder right below his face to the wide of expanse of Danny's throat left bare and wide open right next to his head while Danny flicked his hands and looked at the ceiling.
Steve saying the only thing that was absolutely true, first and last in mouth and thoughts. "You're always here."
Always. All the time. Like. If it weren't Danny the person would be invasively underfoot and need to die a very painful death just so Steve could breathe and catch sight of his own shadow ever always. When it was so much more than just letting himself in Steve's door, and having his own key. Or even the parties he holds for the whole of Five-0 when it seems right.
There were the games and movies on the couch, and chairs on the back. Beers in and out. Grace here on weekends, where she gets her own tiny personal beach and whatever she asks for with those puppy eyes. Dragged out to her events, and him to theirs. Danny sleeping on the couch when they get in so late it's early morning from a case, because he'd stayed on that couch for so long years ago that the option just stayed. In the car. HQ. Steve even had more job mandated therapy with Danny than he had about his own case management.
There wasn't a place Danny wasn't. Maybe a year ago, two. When Cath and Doris were both still here. But they weren't. They were gone, and Danny was everywhere, unchecked. Including his bed, in his head, and warm against his mouth now.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-11-16 02:08 am (UTC)Danny is becoming more and more small restless movements, that keep pushing at Steve like a proof that he should have moved. Yet now that every sign that Danny is giving off is the need to move, to be away, walk around, use the full range of mountain from his hands to his shoulders, Steve doesn't want to let go or move at all. He doesn't want Danny to have woken up enough to suddenly be the one who needs Steve to move away and off of him.
Danny even rolls back his head, leaving it dead weight on the mattress, and just stares up, beyond all of this. At the ceiling that Steve knows too well. That there is nothing worth looking at up there, but that it doesn't stop it from happening. There being absolutely nothing else to do, because everything else is out of reach, elsewhere, or just not a capable, applicable happenstance for any of the several situations it slides through his head. Cath. Doris. Even, Danny.
But he doesn't want Danny anywhere else. Up there. Away from right here. Him. For right here where he's talking about.
Making Steve have to go bolder. More pointedly specific in his actions and his words. He leans into the space left open from Danny leaning his head back. Lets his lips follow the shoulder right below his face to the wide of expanse of Danny's throat left bare and wide open right next to his head while Danny flicked his hands and looked at the ceiling.
Steve saying the only thing that was absolutely true, first and last in mouth and thoughts. "You're always here."
Always. All the time. Like. If it weren't Danny the person would be invasively underfoot and need to die a very painful death just so Steve could breathe and catch sight of his own shadow ever always. When it was so much more than just letting himself in Steve's door, and having his own key. Or even the parties he holds for the whole of Five-0 when it seems right.
There were the games and movies on the couch, and chairs on the back. Beers in and out. Grace here on weekends, where she gets her own tiny personal beach and whatever she asks for with those puppy eyes. Dragged out to her events, and him to theirs. Danny sleeping on the couch when they get in so late it's early morning from a case, because he'd stayed on that couch for so long years ago that the option just stayed. In the car. HQ. Steve even had more job mandated therapy with Danny than he had about his own case management.
There wasn't a place Danny wasn't. Maybe a year ago, two. When Cath and Doris were both still here. But they weren't.
They were gone, and Danny was everywhere, unchecked. Including his bed, in his head, and warm against his mouth now.