Episode 20 coda ficleeeet
Apr. 11th, 2011 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tiptoe39Because I am loving elljay today
There's a moment, somewhere between toasting to articulation and when Chin and Kono return to the table looking subdued, that Steve looks over at Danny. It's just after a firework has exploded, and Steve thinks for a second that he's looking through that night vision sensor again, because Danny's face is lit up in purples. Purple and pink, the soft color of flushed skin, the colors of the clouds against the sky at twilight, It's half lust and half poetry, and Steve doesn't know what to do with it. It takes him another minute to realize he's actually just had a fleeting urge to kiss Danny.
It would have been just an urge to slide his arm around Danny's shoulder, and that might have been permissible. But that arm is out of commission, so he's skipped right to the kissing part.
He makes the sensible choice, which is to have another beer.
After that beer, sensible choices are coming further and further apart in his mind. He manages to hold together long enough to be serious when Chin and Kono bid their goodbyes; he is stupid enough to let Kamekono stay at the table after he's already opened a tab, but the poor guy's finally getting somewhere with his fake cast and genuine smile. So he smiles, nods his head in the direction of one of the fountains that graces the courtyard, raises his eyebrows. Danny's eyebrows lift, too, quicker. Surprise. But he follows. The language of smiles, nodded heads and raised eyebrows has long been a mainstay of their relationship, long before any cheeky sign-language declarations of love.
"So if you really want, I'll let you," Steve says, leaning back against the fountain's edge. The water is misting against the back of his shirt. It feels nice in the sweltering evening air; he leans into it.
Danny cocks his head. "What's that mean?"
"I'll let you." Steve leans in close. Danny starts to sweat. "Sign my cast."
Danny visibly relaxes. "Steven, I ought to smack you," he says in the tone of a world-weary wife.
"But you won't." Steve leers, but Danny's not giving him his eyes; he's rummaging in his pocket for a pen.
He finds one, brings it out, and beckons to Steve to hold out his arm. His fingers curl under the cast, and the lights illuminating the spray of the fountain reflect on his face. Once more, he's pastel purple, the color of night vision, of fireworks.
His eyes are downcast, his brows furrowed as he writes. Steve can feel breath puff against the trail of bare skin where his shirtsleeve is rolled up to accommodate the cast. The weight of Danny's fingers there grounds him.
Just before he's done, Danny purses his lips, then draws his teeth along his bottom lip in a moment of thought. The image crushes Steve then with its intensity - to take them, to taste purple-tinted mouth against his own, to feel the graze of those teeth and the sucking pressure of Danny's mouth, lips opening to his, driving him crazy without even thinking about it, as only Danny can do.
As Danny's already doing to him just by standing there.
Danny finishes with a flourish and Steve tilts his cast up to see. He fails miserably - Danny's managed to write it just below the line of sight. "Hey, that's not fair!"
"True that," Danny says, relaxing, his chin tilting into the spray.
"Well, what does it say?"
Danny looks at him a moment, pensively. Steve's tempted, again, to just crush away he distance between them. But the moment's gone before it begins, and Danny shakes his head. "You're a smart guy," he says, patting Steve's good shoulder. "You'll find a way to read it."
He leans over. And for a lurching moment, Steve thinks Danny's about to kiss him.
"Good night, Steven," Danny says in a low, amused voice. He turns tail, and he walks away.
Five minutes later, Steve is in the restroom. He's standing in front of the mirror, his cast raised in front of him. Gaping.
There's a moment, somewhere between toasting to articulation and when Chin and Kono return to the table looking subdued, that Steve looks over at Danny. It's just after a firework has exploded, and Steve thinks for a second that he's looking through that night vision sensor again, because Danny's face is lit up in purples. Purple and pink, the soft color of flushed skin, the colors of the clouds against the sky at twilight, It's half lust and half poetry, and Steve doesn't know what to do with it. It takes him another minute to realize he's actually just had a fleeting urge to kiss Danny.
It would have been just an urge to slide his arm around Danny's shoulder, and that might have been permissible. But that arm is out of commission, so he's skipped right to the kissing part.
He makes the sensible choice, which is to have another beer.
After that beer, sensible choices are coming further and further apart in his mind. He manages to hold together long enough to be serious when Chin and Kono bid their goodbyes; he is stupid enough to let Kamekono stay at the table after he's already opened a tab, but the poor guy's finally getting somewhere with his fake cast and genuine smile. So he smiles, nods his head in the direction of one of the fountains that graces the courtyard, raises his eyebrows. Danny's eyebrows lift, too, quicker. Surprise. But he follows. The language of smiles, nodded heads and raised eyebrows has long been a mainstay of their relationship, long before any cheeky sign-language declarations of love.
"So if you really want, I'll let you," Steve says, leaning back against the fountain's edge. The water is misting against the back of his shirt. It feels nice in the sweltering evening air; he leans into it.
Danny cocks his head. "What's that mean?"
"I'll let you." Steve leans in close. Danny starts to sweat. "Sign my cast."
Danny visibly relaxes. "Steven, I ought to smack you," he says in the tone of a world-weary wife.
"But you won't." Steve leers, but Danny's not giving him his eyes; he's rummaging in his pocket for a pen.
He finds one, brings it out, and beckons to Steve to hold out his arm. His fingers curl under the cast, and the lights illuminating the spray of the fountain reflect on his face. Once more, he's pastel purple, the color of night vision, of fireworks.
His eyes are downcast, his brows furrowed as he writes. Steve can feel breath puff against the trail of bare skin where his shirtsleeve is rolled up to accommodate the cast. The weight of Danny's fingers there grounds him.
Just before he's done, Danny purses his lips, then draws his teeth along his bottom lip in a moment of thought. The image crushes Steve then with its intensity - to take them, to taste purple-tinted mouth against his own, to feel the graze of those teeth and the sucking pressure of Danny's mouth, lips opening to his, driving him crazy without even thinking about it, as only Danny can do.
As Danny's already doing to him just by standing there.
Danny finishes with a flourish and Steve tilts his cast up to see. He fails miserably - Danny's managed to write it just below the line of sight. "Hey, that's not fair!"
"True that," Danny says, relaxing, his chin tilting into the spray.
"Well, what does it say?"
Danny looks at him a moment, pensively. Steve's tempted, again, to just crush away he distance between them. But the moment's gone before it begins, and Danny shakes his head. "You're a smart guy," he says, patting Steve's good shoulder. "You'll find a way to read it."
He leans over. And for a lurching moment, Steve thinks Danny's about to kiss him.
"Good night, Steven," Danny says in a low, amused voice. He turns tail, and he walks away.
Five minutes later, Steve is in the restroom. He's standing in front of the mirror, his cast raised in front of him. Gaping.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-12 03:54 am (UTC)This. Perfect follow-up. *is possibly incoherent with squee at the ep and this coda* ^____^
(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-23 10:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-25 07:23 pm (UTC)