Danny gives it one word, and another kiss, and another, and then he pulls back. Steve's stomach going cold and still, even with the warmth still under his skin and the fingers against his head. Nowhere to look but forward at Danny, as Danny says words that set themselves like bombs on the field around where Steve is. Even here. Ready to trigger at a whisper. That he lied to Danny. Time and time again, if not exactly to his face. Or directly.
About something that wasn't classified. When he knows how much Danny hates that word.
How much of what he's prized in Danny was that Danny had never lied to him or betrayed him. Ever.
That the man wouldn't. Maybe even couldn't. But he hates that inverted question Danny gives next. He's always hated it when anyone actually cut Danny down. In a fashion that wasn't all shooting the shit and mockery, no matter how blunt or barbed. But actually meaning it was right out. He wants to take off fingers and faces for it, and he isn't entirely missing the defensive or guilt-edged reaction to that question.Steve shook his head, too many times, in the dark.
"That's not on you. You were never supposed to see any it." Which sounds worse, suddenly out loud. Like he always meant for Danny to never figure it out. Or was somehow proud of, or took for granted, how easily it would have been to keep even something this big from him. Was working against him the whole time, instead of with him. Instead of being right there, doing whatever he needed.
Trying to understand anything Danny said about Melissa got him stabbed (by, also, lying to him), and when he needed to figure how to both get into and out of Gabby, and everything that was Rachel, because Danny couldn't think straight in any mood about Rachel and then she broke him. When he never would have done a thing to upset their friendship, their partnership, any of the relationships in his life. Because he'd been happy. In all of them, at different points.
He wanted them. Chose them. Cups of coffee and vacation trips. Nearly moving right back to Jersey with Rachel and Grace.
"There wasn't anything to see," Steve tried, feeling like it was an even worse choice of words. Like it didn't matter what he'd felt, and admitting that was worse than it actually being true. A thing he'd reminded himself of so much those first few years. "You had everything going for you with Amber, and Gabby, and Rachel." He tosses that last name, like it's a nail in the coffin. That he's had this for so long, and pushed it aside since nearly when they met.
Not that far back, but in comparison now, it's laughable how little time of all these years wasn't spent like this.
"It's not like either of us were at a lack of other things that were happening." His Dad. Wo Fat. Joe. Doris. Cath. "And you weren't--" But Steve stalls remembering Danny saying it again. "--like you said--" That he'd always been right. That Danny wasn't into men. By his own admission. But it sunk in a fist, trying to hold Danny having said he was the first. The only. When Steve wasn't first, and especially not only, for anything in his own life.
There's a frown, and it skews. "You never even noticed when guys checked you out." Not anywhere. Bars. The beach. Cases.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-11-16 11:02 pm (UTC)Danny gives it one word, and another kiss, and another, and then he pulls back. Steve's stomach going cold and still, even with the warmth still under his skin and the fingers against his head. Nowhere to look but forward at Danny, as Danny says words that set themselves like bombs on the field around where Steve is. Even here. Ready to trigger at a whisper. That he lied to Danny. Time and time again, if not exactly to his face. Or directly.
About something that wasn't classified. When he knows how much Danny hates that word.
How much of what he's prized in Danny was that Danny had never lied to him or betrayed him. Ever.
That the man wouldn't. Maybe even couldn't. But he hates that inverted question Danny gives next. He's always hated it when anyone actually cut Danny down. In a fashion that wasn't all shooting the shit and mockery, no matter how blunt or barbed. But actually meaning it was right out. He wants to take off fingers and faces for it, and he isn't entirely missing the defensive or guilt-edged reaction to that question.Steve shook his head, too many times, in the dark.
"That's not on you. You were never supposed to see any it." Which sounds worse, suddenly out loud. Like he always meant for Danny to never figure it out. Or was somehow proud of, or took for granted, how easily it would have been to keep even something this big from him. Was working against him the whole time, instead of with him. Instead of being right there, doing whatever he needed.
Trying to understand anything Danny said about Melissa got him stabbed (by, also, lying to him), and when he needed to figure how to both get into and out of Gabby, and everything that was Rachel, because Danny couldn't think straight in any mood about Rachel and then she broke him. When he never would have done a thing to upset their friendship, their partnership, any of the relationships in his life. Because he'd been happy. In all of them, at different points.
He wanted them. Chose them. Cups of coffee and vacation trips. Nearly moving right back to Jersey with Rachel and Grace.
"There wasn't anything to see," Steve tried, feeling like it was an even worse choice of words. Like it didn't matter what he'd felt, and admitting that was worse than it actually being true. A thing he'd reminded himself of so much those first few years. "You had everything going for you with Amber, and Gabby, and Rachel." He tosses that last name, like it's a nail in the coffin. That he's had this for so long, and pushed it aside since nearly when they met.
Not that far back, but in comparison now, it's laughable how little time of all these years wasn't spent like this.
"It's not like either of us were at a lack of other things that were happening." His Dad. Wo Fat. Joe. Doris. Cath. "And you weren't--" But Steve stalls remembering Danny saying it again. "--like you said--" That he'd always been right. That Danny wasn't into men. By his own admission. But it sunk in a fist, trying to hold Danny having said he was the first. The only. When Steve wasn't first, and especially not only, for anything in his own life.
There's a frown, and it skews. "You never even noticed when guys checked you out." Not anywhere. Bars. The beach. Cases.