delicatale | Impulse; PG; ~900 words

Betaed by

stjarna1984 and

tailoredshirt ♥.

Just a little moment, in Steve and Danny's lives.

Danny gives Steve a critical look from where he’s sitting at the edge of the bath, observing silently. Steve’s fingers curl around the white porcelain of the sink, knuckles blanching with the effort, but he’s not saying anything, either. There are too many shadows in the room, too many wrong memories hanging low on their shoulders, and Danny knows already that words would sound distorted, foreign, in the space between them, the blue tiles on the floor.

Steve grabs his razor from the cabinet behind the mirror, and his fingers tremble, and Danny finds himself scared, unsure of exactly what it all means, what can Steve tell him or not. Danny chooses not to push the issue, sits with his index fingers under his thighs and tries not to tap a rhythm against the bathtub ledge.

Danny isn’t sure why he’s here, except that he doesn’t want Steve to be alone. He’s not sure how to deal with the feelings; not grief, not anger, not desperation, just a certain kind of numbness that is reflected in Steve’s lack of smile and blank looks, but Danny’s pretty sure he simply doesn’t want Steve to be alone.

It’s an impulse that makes Danny stand up, his thigh muscle twitching as he steps close to Steve, ignoring the raised eyebrow he gets as an answer to his sudden moves. He grabs the can of shaving foam still inside the cabinet and leaves it on the side of the sink, his thumb skipping against a wayward drop of water when he slides his hand to Steve’s, pulling them off the basin. His fingers are cold, and clasp around Danny’s with frightening force and a briskness that’s surprising, and also reassuring. Steve lets himself be moved, from the sink to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, his lips parting with a question he doesn’t ask and Danny doesn’t answer. He brushes the back of his middle finger against Steve 3-day stubble, thick enough to be wrong, somehow, but not enough to make Steve unrecognizable.

“Let me?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Danny fills up the basin with lukewarm water, grabbing a small towel from the rack on the side and wrapping it around Steve’s shoulders, tucking it in the back of his collar. Steve is surprisingly relaxed under Danny’s hands when he runs them over his shoulders before turning back to the sink and shutting off the faucet, testing the water. Satisfied, Danny curls his left palm and squirts a good amount of shaving foam into it, spreading it over Steve’s stubble with old habit, smiling to himself when Steve tilts his chin, allowing Danny a better access.

If they were any closer, Danny would be straddling Steve. Keeping Steve’s head back with two fingers to Steve’s forehead, Danny grabs the razor and leans in, running the blades up Steve’s throat with care, flicking shaving foam into the water in the sink after each stroke, working slowly but surely.

“You’re good at that,” Steve says when the razor is away from his skin, and Danny shrugs, fingers holding Steve’s jaw, dripping water on the towel around Steve’s shoulders.

“My uncle Johnny had a barber shop. Spent a lot of time there when I was a kid.”

The jaw’s always tricky, the angles to be negotiated with a sharp blade, but Danny doesn’t stop to think about it, the rhythm of the act soothing, and Danny sees Steve’s eyes have drooped to be half-closed, heavy-lidded. Danny allows himself a little smile, running his thumb along the edge of Steve’s newly-shaven jaw, the skin damp and soft, a little red in some places.

Danny’s fingers have trailed shaving foam almost to Steve’s temple, which he promptly ignores as he starts on Steve’s cheeks, his knee between Steve’s legs. He almost jerks when Steve wraps a hand around his hip, hooking knuckles in the waistband of Danny’s pants, staying there, between fabric and fabric. Danny keeps on, not willing to be destabilized by the sudden anchoring move, as though Steve needs the reassurance.

It doesn’t take long to finish, Steve moving his face this way and that in between Danny’s fingers to make sure Danny doesn’t forget any spots before he lets the razor slide in the now grayish water, blobs of shaving foam drifting at the surface. Danny runs a corner of the towel over Steve’s face and watches him blink his eyes open, his hold on Danny’s pants tightening for a second before he lets go. Danny can’t help brushing the back of his fingers over his work.

“Aftershave?”

“No. Thank you.”

Danny shrugs again, a tiny movement as his fingers fold in the crook of Steve’s neck. Stuck in time, if only for a second, things still around them and Danny watches Steve smile, his free hand curling around Danny’s wrist. And then it’s gone again, the world shifting back into motion as a cloud obscures the sun for a second. Danny drops his hand, even though Steve is still holding on to his wrist, and steps back, allowing Steve to stand up.

The kiss is dry and not quite unexpected, but it still makes Danny lick his lips when Steve pulls away. The subtle change in Steve’s demeanor is really not all that subtle to Danny, who’s seen it happen too many times now. Steve hasn’t been for a swim or a run today, and the twitch in his muscles is a telltale sign he’s about to. Danny rolls his eyes.

“Go on. Go get all sweaty.”

Steve, this time, grins, which is a relief of a sight. “I’ll be right back.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thegrrrl2002.livejournal.com

Oh, this is lovely, so achingly intimate and sweet. I love Danny taking care of Steve, and I especially love that Steve just lets Danny do so, without hesitation. Gorgeous!

From:

Impulse; PG; ~900 words

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags