Steve can't help himself. Danny opens his eyes, dazed even in the darkness, and Steve's laugh is something that is soft, sharp with surprise (and maybe a little too much smugness) more than anything else, but entirely real. When somehow he has this effect on Danny -- and it's the effect Danny wants him to have, use, be doing -- and somehow that means Danny can't even follow along with conversations he was running and that he'd only responded to seconds ago, the same as Steve.
"You know," Steve says, feeling the words roll off his tongue, sparkling, hot amusement. "I think I like you better like this."
He rolled his eyes even though his smile didn't get any less crooked or wide, not even as he leaned a little loosely toward the fingers suddenly massaging his skin. Holding on to the prize of the necessity of needing to clarify for Danny of all people, with his words and his endless conversations, what the topic of his own conversation he'd been just talking about is even about. "Get rid of you."
He hasn't in so many years, and any of the examples he can even come up with in the last few years?
They all boiled down to being about this. Unable to separate what he wanted from who he needed to be.
Danny being always underfoot, and something he could never entirely inundate himself to, until he was gone for a weekend or a few weeks and came back and it was like being gassed. Making it a lot like inundation training each time. Except it wasn't. All there was now was the tension of not leaning in to kiss Danny and his slightly befuddled, curious expression. Before realizing he, again, that he just could. Cross those few inches, of nothing but darkness and breath, and kiss Danny, this face, and the soft confusion Steve'd made with a few seconds work of his own mouth.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-11-16 03:57 am (UTC)Steve can't help himself. Danny opens his eyes, dazed even in the darkness, and Steve's laugh is something that is soft, sharp with surprise (and maybe a little too much smugness) more than anything else, but entirely real. When somehow he has this effect on Danny -- and it's the effect Danny wants him to have, use, be doing -- and somehow that means Danny can't even follow along with conversations he was running and that he'd only responded to seconds ago, the same as Steve.
"You know," Steve says, feeling the words roll off his tongue, sparkling, hot amusement. "I think I like you better like this."
He rolled his eyes even though his smile didn't get any less crooked or wide, not even as he leaned a little loosely toward the fingers suddenly massaging his skin. Holding on to the prize of the necessity of needing to clarify for Danny of all people, with his words and his endless conversations, what the topic of his own conversation he'd been just talking about is even about. "Get rid of you."
He hasn't in so many years, and any of the examples he can even come up with in the last few years?
They all boiled down to being about this. Unable to separate what he wanted from who he needed to be.
Danny being always underfoot, and something he could never entirely inundate himself to, until he was gone for a weekend or a few weeks and came back and it was like being gassed. Making it a lot like inundation training each time. Except it wasn't. All there was now was the tension of not leaning in to kiss Danny and his slightly befuddled, curious expression. Before realizing he, again, that he just could. Cross those few inches, of nothing but darkness and breath, and kiss Danny, this face, and the soft confusion Steve'd made with a few seconds work of his own mouth.