Danny's fingers run against his head, trying to pour warm water down his head, shoulders, back, into those knots that know better how to stay taut and grow more solid than how to relax entirely and let go. Even on his best days. The best days. Where nothing has gone wrong even as the sun sets down. The rare ones, that he wasn't built for, but could enjoy even as he itched for the next run, the next pull of a gun, slam of a hand, click of cuffs, shaft of blue light in an interrogation room.
There isn't a wait here though. Danny fingers are warm against his scalp and then Danny is pulling him down toward the bed and himself, doing with absolute ease the thing Steve had only considered. Leaning up, pulling him down, so he's leaning in to kiss Danny's mouth. The soft warm slide of lips, slow this time and everything like the empty, quiet dark around them, and the waves out at the edge of the house and Steve's hearing.
The way it feels good, even when good and slow mean he's still thinking. Maybe too much. About the words that just came out of Danny's mouth. Dopey and drowsy, Danny dropped kicking, with so much ease Steve has no clue how to emulate, as he says the words that he should this time. Like it's not a serious comment, what Steve just said, right on the heels of Danny's, and all the jokes that turned sideways or couldn't be made.
The only thing that comes to his mind, like a personal recrimination, even though he can't entirely tell what his tone is when his forehead rests against Danny's and he says it in the space between one kiss and another, even though he hasn't a clue how many happened before his mouth and the words decided they needed to happen more than be ignored. Or how it sounds. A whisper of something that isn't any of the things it was earlier. So small, and almost, just almost, an apology. Honest. He doesn't know how to blink even with a gun pointed face-blank an inch from his face. "I did."
He doesn't know how he feels about that anymore.
He used to be so proud of it. He's already gotten insulted about anything pricking at it. Poking at the walls that kept their friendship and partnersip in one piece. Supporting Danny, and pushing forward with his own life, with Cath, and even Doris, so long as Danny was at his side. His sounding board and his place where he didn't have to be worried. About where anything was going or who he could never be
But.
There's something else there now. Something dark and uncertain in his gut, especially in the quiet, warmth and Danny kissing him like this. This terrible truth that twists in there. That they both lied to each other this well, for this many years. That neither of them knew. Which hadn't turned out badly by some improbable miracle percentage -- with all they're been through and are to each other already -- but.
This could have happened years ago. So many years, specific every days, that it tangles sore and nearly painful.
With no clue whether to be sickened at how much might have been lost already, or just grateful it managed to happen now.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-11-16 01:12 pm (UTC)Danny's fingers run against his head, trying to pour warm water down his head, shoulders, back, into those knots that know better how to stay taut and grow more solid than how to relax entirely and let go. Even on his best days. The best days. Where nothing has gone wrong even as the sun sets down. The rare ones, that he wasn't built for, but could enjoy even as he itched for the next run, the next pull of a gun, slam of a hand, click of cuffs, shaft of blue light in an interrogation room.
There isn't a wait here though. Danny fingers are warm against his scalp and then Danny is pulling him down toward the bed and himself, doing with absolute ease the thing Steve had only considered. Leaning up, pulling him down, so he's leaning in to kiss Danny's mouth. The soft warm slide of lips, slow this time and everything like the empty, quiet dark around them, and the waves out at the edge of the house and Steve's hearing.
The way it feels good, even when good and slow mean he's still thinking. Maybe too much. About the words that just came out of Danny's mouth. Dopey and drowsy, Danny dropped kicking, with so much ease Steve has no clue how to emulate, as he says the words that he should this time. Like it's not a serious comment, what Steve just said, right on the heels of Danny's, and all the jokes that turned sideways or couldn't be made.
The only thing that comes to his mind, like a personal recrimination, even though he can't entirely tell what his tone is when his forehead rests against Danny's and he says it in the space between one kiss and another, even though he hasn't a clue how many happened before his mouth and the words decided they needed to happen more than be ignored. Or how it sounds. A whisper of something that isn't any of the things it was earlier. So small, and almost, just almost, an apology. Honest. He doesn't know how to blink even with a gun pointed face-blank an inch from his face. "I did."
He doesn't know how he feels about that anymore.
He used to be so proud of it. He's already gotten insulted about anything pricking at it. Poking at the walls that kept their friendship and partnersip in one piece. Supporting Danny, and pushing forward with his own life, with Cath, and even Doris, so long as Danny was at his side. His sounding board and his place where he didn't have to be worried. About where anything was going or who he could never be
But.
There's something else there now. Something dark and uncertain in his gut, especially in the quiet, warmth and Danny kissing him like this. This terrible truth that twists in there. That they both lied to each other this well, for this many years. That neither of them knew. Which hadn't turned out badly by some improbable miracle percentage -- with all they're been through and are to each other already -- but.
This could have happened years ago. So many years, specific every days, that it tangles sore and nearly painful.
With no clue whether to be sickened at how much might have been lost already, or just grateful it managed to happen now.