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delicataleI'm sorry, I really feel like I write way too much (another co-written one was finished yesterday so should be around soon). I cannot help myself, it's absolutely terrible. Anyway.
Post-finale so spoilers. Unbeta'ed. One of these 5 things fic.
4 things about Steve that changed after prison, and 1 that didn't.
I. His eyes.
It’s late when Danny wakes up on the first Tuesday after the Friday when Steve gets out of jail. They’ve all taken some time off because Chin, Jenna and Danny have been killing themselves clearing both Steve and Kono for the past two months and the whole status of Five-0 is still shaky with the new Governor in place. Danny spends his first night just looking at Steve sleep like the dead, and the next day getting fucked into the mattress, which suits him just fine. They fall back into old habits and bickering surprisingly fast, even if Steve thinks he can hide the dark shadows in his eyes. Two months in solitary, Danny dreads to think, fuck.
So he wakes up late the Tuesday after the Friday Steve gets out. When he pads downstairs in his underwear, the smell of coffee is not even lingering around the kitchen anymore. He goes in and turns the coffee maker back on, scratching his bare stomach lightly when he wanders out to the lanai, undoubtedly finding Steve there. He’s reading Jane Austen - A Life, while wearing black-rimmed glasses that make his cheekbones stand out and Danny swallows, all the mocking words he had about the book dying on the tip of his tongue.
His breakfast coffee completely forgotten, Danny walks closer, taking the book from Steve’s hands and settling himself on his lap, straddling him and squirming until Steve groans and Danny is comfortable. He runs his thumb along the left arm of the glasses, eyes diving into Steve’s, so blue and intense, soft this morning.
“Jane Austen, really?”
“Started it in jail,” Danny ignores the way his chest clenches painfully; it worries him how easily Steve talks about it. “The library in lock-up isn’t big on police procedure manuals.”
Danny has about ten witty and snarky comebacks assaulting but he pushes them away, and instead of talking he noses at the glasses, closing his eyes when Steve kisses his neck lightly.
“These are new, too.”
“Got my eyes checked when I was in, too. I think your coffee is ready now.”
“How did you – you know what? Don’t answer this. Do you want one?”
“Splash of milk –“
“No sugar, I know, McGarrett.”
Danny kisses him before moving away, Steve’s hands lingering on his thighs. Danny points his thumb to the book on the book, a silly grin appearing on his lips.
“You’ll have to let me read that when you’re finished.”
“In the meantime, I’ve got Little Women if you want.”
II. His hair.
Danny curls around Steve, watching his fingers when he runs them over Steve’s head, his newly cropped hair still unbelievable soft. Danny misses the longer hair, the curls Steve used to have at the nape of his neck, but he also finds a strange satisfaction in rubbing his cheek against Steve’s new haircut.
So he does exactly that, his muscles trembling a little from the aftermath of the orgasm Steve’s mouth and cock just bestowed on him, he curls up and presses the side of his face to Steve’s head and nuzzles, his eyes closing contently. It’s the first Sunday since the Friday Steve was released and they’re still in that rediscovery phase, where fucking and cuddling surpasses any other need besides food.
Danny holds Steve through his nightmares and doesn’t force him to talk about them, just eases him back into his embrace and kisses him all over, until Steve’s breathing returns to normal. And then his fingers caressing Steve’s buzz cut are a lullaby to the two of them. And sometimes, in the morning, when Danny wakes up with Steve’s head over his chest and his arm flung over his middle, fingers tickling the fine hairs of his upper thigh, he’ll wake Steve up with kisses and a head massage and Steve will talk about the nightmares - some of them still too full of classified memories he can’t share, and some new ones, about loneliness and darkness and damp cold that seeped through his veins.
Danny, nowadays, finds all sorts of reasons to touch Steve’s head. To say that Danny is a little obsessed with Steve’s new hair would be an understatement.
“Are you going to start purring?”
Danny nods against Steve’s head, the silky salt and pepper hair scratching perfectly against his own rough, unshaven skin. Steve laughs, reaching out and tucking his thumb under Danny’s hipbone, his hand wrapped, large and big and burning Danny’s skin, around Danny’s hip. His skin is tacky with sweat but Danny wouldn’t want to move in a million years. He’s comfy, warm, Steve’s fingers are drawing idle patterns over his hip, and he’s kissing wherever he can reach, and Danny feels like he belongs.
“I’d have cut my hair ages ago if I’d known it’d make you so pliant and easy, Danno.”
“I’m not like that because of the hair, you goof. If you hadn’t noticed before, I tend to turn pliant and easy after I shoot my brains out of my cock.”
“Such a romantic.”
Danny just purrs in answer.
III. His tattoos.
Danny knows, he just knows that if Steve hadn’t been in solitary for the whole time he was in prison, he would have got work done when he was in, probably by some burly murderer that would have butchered the delicate work Steve currently has with crude inks and needles, and Danny can’t even think about infections, or worse.
So in a way he’s glad that Steve hasn’t had the chance. But he books an appointment to get some more ink done with his old mate from high school, Kaimana, who is now a tattoo artist in Honolulu, on the second Monday after the Friday he gets out. He goes alone, gently refuses Danny’s offer to come along but kisses him with all the promises in the world, making Danny’s knees a little weak.
He doesn’t come back until about 7 hours later, and then Danny sits him on the couch and peels his shirt off, turns Steve this way and that until he finds the new ink. It’s on the back of his neck and it’s mostly the same green tones as his shoulder ones, and Steve relaxes as Danny touches around the tattoo, his head lolling down, his chin resting on his chest.
The tattoo is a birdcage with its door open and a broken clock face hanging from a hook inside it and flowers weaved around the bars of the cage and Danny’s stomach knots hard as he licks his lips. His fingers ghost over the tattoo, but he doesn’t dare touching.
“Sore?”
“Bit. I was supposed to keep the wrapping a while longer but it fell off.”
The implications of the design are more literal than anything else Steve ever had done and it makes Danny wonder if he’ll ever regret it, when the shock and trauma wears off. Danny doesn’t want to think it won’t. He’ll tend the wounds for the rest of his life if he has to, but he doesn’t want to.
Danny sighs softly, leaning close and grazing his nose along the curve of Steve’s shoulder. His skin smells like the sun, and Danny presses his fingers into Steve’s ribs, smiling when Steve squirms a little, slotting his fingers in between Danny’s.
“You like it?”
“Hmm, yeah. It’s not enticing me to get one, though.”
“And I thought you got off on pain.”
“Have I started looking like you? No, I don’t think so, I am still me and you are still you,” the words come out in a rush, but Danny believes them so hard it’s threatening to make his chest explode. “We have not exchanged bodies yet, so what are you talking about, freak, I’m the normal one in this relationship.”
“Warped definition of normal that is.”
“Shut it, you love me.”
IV. His work out regime
Danny is used to a certain way Steve works out. When this whole Thing started, the Thing They’re Doing, as Steve calls it with fondness and stupidity, sometime after Meka’s funeral and before Danny thought that maybe he had a shot at having a family again - that whole idea tanked pretty quickly after it became obvious that the baby wasn’t his own, and that he was completely, hopelessly in love with Steve - Steve got Danny used to morning alone, breakfast alone while he was swimming his numerous laps in the great big ocean.
But now his working out regime has changed. He sleeps in later, as if trying to get all the hours he didn’t have while in jail, and often enough, Danny wakes up with Steve still wrapped around him, sleep-warm and heavy and his skin smelling of fabric softener. He goes for a swim later on, after Danny kisses him awake, and comes back inside the house afterwards to seek Danny out, shake himself like a wet puppy as close to Danny as he can, if only to laugh at the outraged way Danny protests.
The way he laughs makes it worth it to Danny, even when Steve curls around him afterwards, all damp and his skin cold, because it’s Steve, laughing, and it’s even rarer now than it used to be before.
So that part of his work out hasn’t changed much. The new things he does, though - push-ups, pull-ups, two series of 20 every day, Danny’s surprised for the first few days and then forget Steve didn’t use to do them. No, what really gets him to stop and stare and blink, it’s the yoga.
Danny finds Steve on the balcony the afternoon of the second Friday after the Friday Steve gets out of jail, with his legs spread in front of him and his upper body bending over them, his head touching his knees. Danny just stands back and watch for a while, the one little drop of sweat unmoving, as if standing on the edge of something great, right in the middle of Steve’s back. And when Steve uncurls himself, the drop falls to his yoga mat and Danny takes a deep, loud breath.
Steve turns his head, smiles at Danny when he strides forward and sits down on one of the chairs lying around. He leans forwards, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Steve is looking out again, this time sitting cross-legged, his back straight as in inhales and exhales slowly, his chest expanding, and fuck, Danny’s fingers itch to reach out and touch, his three days old beard and his beating heart.
“Meditation helped. In prison.”
Danny bites the inside of his lip to keep himself from telling Steve that he looks beautiful, this serene. But he’s bursting at the seams with all those things that he won’t say, not unless very drunk, so he leaves Steve to it, leaning over him and kissing the top of his head lightly before padding back inside the house.
V. His spirit
The third Wednesday after Steve is released starts with Danny being angry. Someone drove into his car, okay, his lovely, amazing Camaro that went through so many days of being driven by crazy fucking Super SEAL and never broke down, it got driven into by a stupid doofus of a drunk driver and Danny is fuming. He comes home and rants for about half an hour, during which Steve offers him beer and makes a start on dinner, until, at least, he sees the blood staining Danny’s sleeve.
Giving up pots and pans, Steve stalks close to Danny, rolling up his shirt, his face expressionless for a second before Danny recognizes the sudden crazy, unstoppable glint in his eyes. His fingers graze the bruise and the small cut that Danny sustained during the accident.
“It’s nothing, Steve, sit yourself down, it’s just a graze -”
“Where is he, Danny? ”
So meditation only works so well on Navy trained killing machines, apparently. Danny’s stomach goes topsy-turvy as he knows exactly what Steve is not saying, the I will find him and I will destroy him, and Danny stands up, finding himself suddenly smiling as he slides his arms around Steve’s waist, arching himself into the curve of Steve’s body, and it takes Steve a second but then he’s hugging back, the anger seeping out of him as quickly as it appeared.
Danny just hangs on with as much strength as he can muster, because for a while he thought he may have lost this Steve - this part of him that is always on the edge and ready to jump at any sign of danger when it comes to those he loves. Danny thought he’d lost that reckless animal forever, that part of Steve that drove Danny crazy and the one that made Danny fall so stupidly, helplessly in love.
“Oh, Steven, you are such an idiot. You are to stay here, cook me dinner, and fuck me either on this very table, or in bed, possibly in the shower. If we are up to it, all three, because we get Grace tomorrow and thus will not get to do it until she’s back at Rachel’s. You are not to go after a stupid drunk driver who broke my car. Understood?”
Steve sighs, because of course he’s put upon and his life is so fucking hard, Danny is awfully bossy, but when he pulls back, his smile is large and bright and goofy, the kind of smile that tells Danny all that he needs to know about Steve.
“If you insist.”
It all started because of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
their_darkness's Steve in glasses comment meme, so blame her.
Post-finale so spoilers. Unbeta'ed. One of these 5 things fic.
4 things about Steve that changed after prison, and 1 that didn't.
I. His eyes.
It’s late when Danny wakes up on the first Tuesday after the Friday when Steve gets out of jail. They’ve all taken some time off because Chin, Jenna and Danny have been killing themselves clearing both Steve and Kono for the past two months and the whole status of Five-0 is still shaky with the new Governor in place. Danny spends his first night just looking at Steve sleep like the dead, and the next day getting fucked into the mattress, which suits him just fine. They fall back into old habits and bickering surprisingly fast, even if Steve thinks he can hide the dark shadows in his eyes. Two months in solitary, Danny dreads to think, fuck.
So he wakes up late the Tuesday after the Friday Steve gets out. When he pads downstairs in his underwear, the smell of coffee is not even lingering around the kitchen anymore. He goes in and turns the coffee maker back on, scratching his bare stomach lightly when he wanders out to the lanai, undoubtedly finding Steve there. He’s reading Jane Austen - A Life, while wearing black-rimmed glasses that make his cheekbones stand out and Danny swallows, all the mocking words he had about the book dying on the tip of his tongue.
His breakfast coffee completely forgotten, Danny walks closer, taking the book from Steve’s hands and settling himself on his lap, straddling him and squirming until Steve groans and Danny is comfortable. He runs his thumb along the left arm of the glasses, eyes diving into Steve’s, so blue and intense, soft this morning.
“Jane Austen, really?”
“Started it in jail,” Danny ignores the way his chest clenches painfully; it worries him how easily Steve talks about it. “The library in lock-up isn’t big on police procedure manuals.”
Danny has about ten witty and snarky comebacks assaulting but he pushes them away, and instead of talking he noses at the glasses, closing his eyes when Steve kisses his neck lightly.
“These are new, too.”
“Got my eyes checked when I was in, too. I think your coffee is ready now.”
“How did you – you know what? Don’t answer this. Do you want one?”
“Splash of milk –“
“No sugar, I know, McGarrett.”
Danny kisses him before moving away, Steve’s hands lingering on his thighs. Danny points his thumb to the book on the book, a silly grin appearing on his lips.
“You’ll have to let me read that when you’re finished.”
“In the meantime, I’ve got Little Women if you want.”
II. His hair.
Danny curls around Steve, watching his fingers when he runs them over Steve’s head, his newly cropped hair still unbelievable soft. Danny misses the longer hair, the curls Steve used to have at the nape of his neck, but he also finds a strange satisfaction in rubbing his cheek against Steve’s new haircut.
So he does exactly that, his muscles trembling a little from the aftermath of the orgasm Steve’s mouth and cock just bestowed on him, he curls up and presses the side of his face to Steve’s head and nuzzles, his eyes closing contently. It’s the first Sunday since the Friday Steve was released and they’re still in that rediscovery phase, where fucking and cuddling surpasses any other need besides food.
Danny holds Steve through his nightmares and doesn’t force him to talk about them, just eases him back into his embrace and kisses him all over, until Steve’s breathing returns to normal. And then his fingers caressing Steve’s buzz cut are a lullaby to the two of them. And sometimes, in the morning, when Danny wakes up with Steve’s head over his chest and his arm flung over his middle, fingers tickling the fine hairs of his upper thigh, he’ll wake Steve up with kisses and a head massage and Steve will talk about the nightmares - some of them still too full of classified memories he can’t share, and some new ones, about loneliness and darkness and damp cold that seeped through his veins.
Danny, nowadays, finds all sorts of reasons to touch Steve’s head. To say that Danny is a little obsessed with Steve’s new hair would be an understatement.
“Are you going to start purring?”
Danny nods against Steve’s head, the silky salt and pepper hair scratching perfectly against his own rough, unshaven skin. Steve laughs, reaching out and tucking his thumb under Danny’s hipbone, his hand wrapped, large and big and burning Danny’s skin, around Danny’s hip. His skin is tacky with sweat but Danny wouldn’t want to move in a million years. He’s comfy, warm, Steve’s fingers are drawing idle patterns over his hip, and he’s kissing wherever he can reach, and Danny feels like he belongs.
“I’d have cut my hair ages ago if I’d known it’d make you so pliant and easy, Danno.”
“I’m not like that because of the hair, you goof. If you hadn’t noticed before, I tend to turn pliant and easy after I shoot my brains out of my cock.”
“Such a romantic.”
Danny just purrs in answer.
III. His tattoos.
Danny knows, he just knows that if Steve hadn’t been in solitary for the whole time he was in prison, he would have got work done when he was in, probably by some burly murderer that would have butchered the delicate work Steve currently has with crude inks and needles, and Danny can’t even think about infections, or worse.
So in a way he’s glad that Steve hasn’t had the chance. But he books an appointment to get some more ink done with his old mate from high school, Kaimana, who is now a tattoo artist in Honolulu, on the second Monday after the Friday he gets out. He goes alone, gently refuses Danny’s offer to come along but kisses him with all the promises in the world, making Danny’s knees a little weak.
He doesn’t come back until about 7 hours later, and then Danny sits him on the couch and peels his shirt off, turns Steve this way and that until he finds the new ink. It’s on the back of his neck and it’s mostly the same green tones as his shoulder ones, and Steve relaxes as Danny touches around the tattoo, his head lolling down, his chin resting on his chest.
The tattoo is a birdcage with its door open and a broken clock face hanging from a hook inside it and flowers weaved around the bars of the cage and Danny’s stomach knots hard as he licks his lips. His fingers ghost over the tattoo, but he doesn’t dare touching.
“Sore?”
“Bit. I was supposed to keep the wrapping a while longer but it fell off.”
The implications of the design are more literal than anything else Steve ever had done and it makes Danny wonder if he’ll ever regret it, when the shock and trauma wears off. Danny doesn’t want to think it won’t. He’ll tend the wounds for the rest of his life if he has to, but he doesn’t want to.
Danny sighs softly, leaning close and grazing his nose along the curve of Steve’s shoulder. His skin smells like the sun, and Danny presses his fingers into Steve’s ribs, smiling when Steve squirms a little, slotting his fingers in between Danny’s.
“You like it?”
“Hmm, yeah. It’s not enticing me to get one, though.”
“And I thought you got off on pain.”
“Have I started looking like you? No, I don’t think so, I am still me and you are still you,” the words come out in a rush, but Danny believes them so hard it’s threatening to make his chest explode. “We have not exchanged bodies yet, so what are you talking about, freak, I’m the normal one in this relationship.”
“Warped definition of normal that is.”
“Shut it, you love me.”
IV. His work out regime
Danny is used to a certain way Steve works out. When this whole Thing started, the Thing They’re Doing, as Steve calls it with fondness and stupidity, sometime after Meka’s funeral and before Danny thought that maybe he had a shot at having a family again - that whole idea tanked pretty quickly after it became obvious that the baby wasn’t his own, and that he was completely, hopelessly in love with Steve - Steve got Danny used to morning alone, breakfast alone while he was swimming his numerous laps in the great big ocean.
But now his working out regime has changed. He sleeps in later, as if trying to get all the hours he didn’t have while in jail, and often enough, Danny wakes up with Steve still wrapped around him, sleep-warm and heavy and his skin smelling of fabric softener. He goes for a swim later on, after Danny kisses him awake, and comes back inside the house afterwards to seek Danny out, shake himself like a wet puppy as close to Danny as he can, if only to laugh at the outraged way Danny protests.
The way he laughs makes it worth it to Danny, even when Steve curls around him afterwards, all damp and his skin cold, because it’s Steve, laughing, and it’s even rarer now than it used to be before.
So that part of his work out hasn’t changed much. The new things he does, though - push-ups, pull-ups, two series of 20 every day, Danny’s surprised for the first few days and then forget Steve didn’t use to do them. No, what really gets him to stop and stare and blink, it’s the yoga.
Danny finds Steve on the balcony the afternoon of the second Friday after the Friday Steve gets out of jail, with his legs spread in front of him and his upper body bending over them, his head touching his knees. Danny just stands back and watch for a while, the one little drop of sweat unmoving, as if standing on the edge of something great, right in the middle of Steve’s back. And when Steve uncurls himself, the drop falls to his yoga mat and Danny takes a deep, loud breath.
Steve turns his head, smiles at Danny when he strides forward and sits down on one of the chairs lying around. He leans forwards, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Steve is looking out again, this time sitting cross-legged, his back straight as in inhales and exhales slowly, his chest expanding, and fuck, Danny’s fingers itch to reach out and touch, his three days old beard and his beating heart.
“Meditation helped. In prison.”
Danny bites the inside of his lip to keep himself from telling Steve that he looks beautiful, this serene. But he’s bursting at the seams with all those things that he won’t say, not unless very drunk, so he leaves Steve to it, leaning over him and kissing the top of his head lightly before padding back inside the house.
V. His spirit
The third Wednesday after Steve is released starts with Danny being angry. Someone drove into his car, okay, his lovely, amazing Camaro that went through so many days of being driven by crazy fucking Super SEAL and never broke down, it got driven into by a stupid doofus of a drunk driver and Danny is fuming. He comes home and rants for about half an hour, during which Steve offers him beer and makes a start on dinner, until, at least, he sees the blood staining Danny’s sleeve.
Giving up pots and pans, Steve stalks close to Danny, rolling up his shirt, his face expressionless for a second before Danny recognizes the sudden crazy, unstoppable glint in his eyes. His fingers graze the bruise and the small cut that Danny sustained during the accident.
“It’s nothing, Steve, sit yourself down, it’s just a graze -”
“Where is he, Danny? ”
So meditation only works so well on Navy trained killing machines, apparently. Danny’s stomach goes topsy-turvy as he knows exactly what Steve is not saying, the I will find him and I will destroy him, and Danny stands up, finding himself suddenly smiling as he slides his arms around Steve’s waist, arching himself into the curve of Steve’s body, and it takes Steve a second but then he’s hugging back, the anger seeping out of him as quickly as it appeared.
Danny just hangs on with as much strength as he can muster, because for a while he thought he may have lost this Steve - this part of him that is always on the edge and ready to jump at any sign of danger when it comes to those he loves. Danny thought he’d lost that reckless animal forever, that part of Steve that drove Danny crazy and the one that made Danny fall so stupidly, helplessly in love.
“Oh, Steven, you are such an idiot. You are to stay here, cook me dinner, and fuck me either on this very table, or in bed, possibly in the shower. If we are up to it, all three, because we get Grace tomorrow and thus will not get to do it until she’s back at Rachel’s. You are not to go after a stupid drunk driver who broke my car. Understood?”
Steve sighs, because of course he’s put upon and his life is so fucking hard, Danny is awfully bossy, but when he pulls back, his smile is large and bright and goofy, the kind of smile that tells Danny all that he needs to know about Steve.
“If you insist.”
It all started because of
their_darkness's Steve in glasses comment meme, so blame her.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 10:32 pm (UTC)I think the tattoo one is my favorite. Or well, it would be my favorite but possessive!Steve is also a bit of a kink of mine (OH DEAR GOD WHEN DOES IT STOP) so I'm not sure. I LOVE THEM ALL. <3
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 10:31 pm (UTC)Thanks for this!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 10:39 pm (UTC)I love how Danny measures everything from the "Friday when Steve gets out of jail". It's like a whole new beginning for them, so yeah, meaningful.
And the five things you picked to focus on were perfect.
♥♥♥
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 07:56 am (UTC)Thank you so much bb!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 07:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 07:59 am (UTC)I guess the day you'll get bored of it I'll stop!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 12:19 am (UTC).....and the YOGA!! omg Steve :') (lol my yogi-self squealed at that xD)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:22 am (UTC)I'm so so glad you liked it =D.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:11 am (UTC)Another great coda!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 05:11 am (UTC)And what are you talking about? You're not writing too much. There can never be too much quality fic! :)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 06:11 am (UTC)And Alex O'loughlin in glasses, just. Ugh. Yes.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:41 am (UTC)Just. Yes.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 06:52 am (UTC)So glad one became 5 :)
The temporalisation (is it even a word?) with "the ___ after the Friday Steve gets out of jail" is pitch perfect.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:44 am (UTC)I have little stupid things I like to write and repetition is one of them...I like rhythm in stories!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 01:03 pm (UTC)And no matter what personal trauma he's been through, Steve's love and concern for Danny will always ground him.
Great work on this :)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 01:18 pm (UTC)Steve has all the love for Danny and his family - that's what gets him through every day!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 02:49 pm (UTC)Oh my god.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-21 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-22 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-22 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-22 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-23 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-24 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-24 05:36 am (UTC)