Promptly prompted prompts? Or, y'know, something.
My brain is struggling with five ideas at the same time and while I kind of want to write all of them, I also don't feel like jumping into a real story right now. The solution, of course, would be drabbling all over the place, which is why your support would be most appreciated. Which is to say:
Prompt me! And others! And yourself! Like so:
Prompt me! And others! And yourself! Like so:
- I queued ( Read more... )
Irritating, irresistible bastard.
Leaning back on his hands, fingers digging into the cool sand, Danny stares into the campfire until the flames dance behind his lids each time he blinks. The night shimmers around them, stars gleaming against a cloudless sky, moonlight glittering on the waves. Danny still can't believe he didn't immediately decline when Kono invited him to her midnight surfing party, couldn't bring himself to say no when Steve glanced up with this strangely hopeful, uncharacteristically hesitant expression that Danny couldn't sort into any of the usual categories he worked out in a vain attempt to gain control over the tangled mess of his emotions.
So Danny said yes. Because he's absolutely useless when it comes to denying Steve anything, and he can only pray Steve hasn't noticed how Danny's voice sounds fond even when berating Steve for his trigger-happy fingers and blatant disregard for anything resembling a backup strategy.
Yeah, Danny's so completely fucked.
“Hey,” Steve mutters softly, and when Danny glances over, the flames dancing behind his lids mingle with the fire reflecting in Steve's irises. It's a little confusing, or maybe that's the four beers, or six, or something. Danny hasn't lost track, not exactly, but somehow he ended up sharing most of his bottles with Steve, and that makes it hard to come up with a clear estimate.
“Hey what?” Danny asks. He straightens a little, just enough to reach for the beer in Steve's hand, Steve holding on a little longer than necessary, his fingers damp from condensation.
“Nothing. Just...” Steve's smile gleams in the darkness and one of Kono's friends is plucking away at a guitar and it's all just so cliché, stars and campfire and beer, that Danny's heart stutters for a stupid moment. His body's kind of unreliable around Steve, just like his resolve.
Danny raises the bottle and pretends its neck is still warm from Steve's mouth. He keeps his voice low. “Just? Just what? Your conversational skills are truly impressive, babe. Does this always happen when you ride a few waves and then get to light a campfire? Is it the adrenaline or the whole playing-with-inflammables, because don't think I didn't see that.”
“Haven't had a lot of time for campfires since I got back, so...” Steve lifts both shoulders and looks away, the flames brightening the line of his profile and glinting on his bare shoulders. Danny is trying very hard not to stare. Mostly, he succeeds. At least he doesn't think Steve caught him when he glances back at Danny, the faintest hint of a smile around his mouth. “Anyway, just wanted to say that Kono did a good job. You're really getting the hang of surfing.”
“No need to sound surprised,” Danny says even though his face feels a little warm, the flames heating his skin, probably. That, and Steve isn't someone who dishes out compliments lightly.
“Not surprised,” Steve says immediately, leaning closer as if this is important. “Just glad to see you're really starting to settle here, you know?”
“Because surfing is what proves I'm settling here, right.” Danny makes it sarcastic, twists his mouth into a lopsided grin, only Steve isn't grinning back.
“It does,” is all he says. His tone is serious, his eyes unreadable in the flickering glow of the fire as he stares at Danny.
Danny can't find the words to argue.
It takes several seconds before Steve starts to smile, sudden and real, the brightest thing around. When Danny holds the beer out for him, Steve takes it only to set the bottle down in the sand and pull Danny forward by the wrist. Danny comes easily.
Up close, Steve's smile is softer, even more beautiful. He tastes of beer and saltwater, and Danny never wants the night to end.
Reply
This is so, so gorgeous! Such a perfect little moment! I'm twitterpated.
Reply
Reply
Reply
The most important point, though: Is there any more on!the!run!fic?!
Reply
How goes your not-quite drabble?
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment