Ficlet/Missing Scene: Intermission
In my head, this totally happened. Directly related to this post.
Steve/Danny UST: A missing scene of 1x17. Kind of. Maybe just an interpretation.
(PG-13, 452 words)
Intermission
Okay. So, Steve has a grenade. In fact, no, Steve doesn’t just have a grenade; Steve has a grenade that he stored in Danny’s car for an undetermined extent of time, and that? That, right there, should be the problem. It should be, but it isn’t. It’s problematic, yes, so many levels of wrong packed into just a few seconds of Danny’s life, but the real problem? Well, the real problem is that when they rush out of the shop with barely enough time to find shelter from the blast, the real problem is that Steve chooses to find shelter against Danny.
No, scratch that. It isn’t Steve seeking shelter; it’s Steve winding himself around Danny, body curved over Danny’s as if physical proximity might protect Danny from harm, as if their closeness might allow Danny to benefit from Steve’s considerable ability to come out alive even when things are blowing up all around him. Most of the time, the blowing up is Steve’s fault, but that’s a different matter.
The blast is deafening.
Danny flinches at the sharp scrunch of bursting metal from inside the shop and glances up to find Steve watching him closely. Steve's eyes are bright, fixed on Danny’s face. When their gazes meet, Steve smiles very suddenly, and Danny hates to think of him as breathtaking, hates to fall into the same trap as half-drunken clubbers who need only a brief look at Steve to throw themselves at him. But. Most of the time, Steve isn’t even trying, so when he is? Danny doesn’t stand a chance.
And that, okay, that is Danny’s real, actual, number one problem. Because Steve is trying, right now. With the grenade blast still ringing in Danny’s ears, Steve is looking down at him as if he’s going to bend his head to kiss Danny and Jesus, Steve is an asshole, a motherfucking asshole because no, adrenaline or some vague idea about acting inconspicuously are not a fucking reason for a kiss.
Not when it would mean more than it should.
At least to Danny.
Danny ducks down and covers his ears against the noise of overturning furniture. After a blink of an eye, Steve shrinks back, twisting his body away.
As soon as everything quiets around them, Danny turns on Steve, his chest tight, his heart high in his throat even as he lashes out. It’s possible Steve looks at him for slightly longer than necessary, oddly quiet, before he simply walks past Danny and back into the shop. He doesn’t say even one word.
Danny sits down heavily, allowing himself just a moment to breathe, recuperate. He tells himself that nothing happened. He tells himself he’s grateful for it.
Fuck.
=== .finis. ===
Steve/Danny UST: A missing scene of 1x17. Kind of. Maybe just an interpretation.
(PG-13, 452 words)
Intermission
Okay. So, Steve has a grenade. In fact, no, Steve doesn’t just have a grenade; Steve has a grenade that he stored in Danny’s car for an undetermined extent of time, and that? That, right there, should be the problem. It should be, but it isn’t. It’s problematic, yes, so many levels of wrong packed into just a few seconds of Danny’s life, but the real problem? Well, the real problem is that when they rush out of the shop with barely enough time to find shelter from the blast, the real problem is that Steve chooses to find shelter against Danny.
No, scratch that. It isn’t Steve seeking shelter; it’s Steve winding himself around Danny, body curved over Danny’s as if physical proximity might protect Danny from harm, as if their closeness might allow Danny to benefit from Steve’s considerable ability to come out alive even when things are blowing up all around him. Most of the time, the blowing up is Steve’s fault, but that’s a different matter.
The blast is deafening.
Danny flinches at the sharp scrunch of bursting metal from inside the shop and glances up to find Steve watching him closely. Steve's eyes are bright, fixed on Danny’s face. When their gazes meet, Steve smiles very suddenly, and Danny hates to think of him as breathtaking, hates to fall into the same trap as half-drunken clubbers who need only a brief look at Steve to throw themselves at him. But. Most of the time, Steve isn’t even trying, so when he is? Danny doesn’t stand a chance.
And that, okay, that is Danny’s real, actual, number one problem. Because Steve is trying, right now. With the grenade blast still ringing in Danny’s ears, Steve is looking down at him as if he’s going to bend his head to kiss Danny and Jesus, Steve is an asshole, a motherfucking asshole because no, adrenaline or some vague idea about acting inconspicuously are not a fucking reason for a kiss.
Not when it would mean more than it should.
At least to Danny.
Danny ducks down and covers his ears against the noise of overturning furniture. After a blink of an eye, Steve shrinks back, twisting his body away.
As soon as everything quiets around them, Danny turns on Steve, his chest tight, his heart high in his throat even as he lashes out. It’s possible Steve looks at him for slightly longer than necessary, oddly quiet, before he simply walks past Danny and back into the shop. He doesn’t say even one word.
Danny sits down heavily, allowing himself just a moment to breathe, recuperate. He tells himself that nothing happened. He tells himself he’s grateful for it.
Fuck.
=== .finis. ===