[I’ve watched a little Doctor Who, but it never grabbed me the same way Torchwood did. I liked some of the episodes, but I was mostly just ambivalent about it, so I didn’t make it past… mid-S2, I think? Which is funny, because I honestly think the acting’s better in Doctor Who than in Torchwood – I just liked the tone of TW better, that blend of darkness and cheesiness and humour. The change in how Torchwood was handled in S3 is the main reason why I went off that, too. =P]
inarticulate
Steve’s been odd all day, and Danny’s not quite sure what to make of it. Nothing particularly earth-shattering had happened recently, and there weren’t any anniversaries he was aware of that might be affecting Steve’s mood. It could, of course, be something related to Steve’s time in service, but if that was the case, there was probably nothing Danny could do about it.
All the same, Steve’s strange mood is bothering Danny more than he cares to admit. Danny also doesn’t have Grace this weekend, so on the presumption that misery loves company, he buys a six-pack and heads over to Steve’s house.
Danny lets himself in and leaves the beer in Steve’s fridge. He doesn’t even bother checking the rest of the house, and heads straight out for the lanai instead. The way Steve’s been the whole day, surely he’ll be out swimming.
Danny’s only half-correct, as it turns out. Steve’s outside and soaking wet, so clearly he’s just been swimming. But right now, he’s just sitting on the beach, well within the wash of the surf. The waves keep rolling up around him and then pulling back, and Steve just sits there and stares out at the water.
Danny finds himself trundling down the sand without even thinking about it.
“I brought beer,” he says, once he’s near enough to talk without shouting.
“Hand it over, then,” Steve says lazily.
“It’s inside,” Danny says. “You gonna go out in there again?”
Steve watches the waves for a few long seconds. “No,” he finally says, and hauls himself to his feet. Danny tries not to stare at the way Steve’s tattoos move as his arms flex. “Let’s go in.”
Subtlety is lost on Steve most of the time, and Danny suspects that now more than ever, he won’t get any answers if he skirts the question. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks bluntly.
“Nothing,” Steve says.
“Bullshit,” Danny says. “Something’s been bothering you all day.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Steve says, and just as Danny’s about to launch into a complaint about Steve brushing him off, he continues. “That’s the thing.”
“What’s the thing?” Danny asks, thrown. “That nothing’s wrong with you? I hate to break it to you, babe, but anything who thinks that grenades are an appropriate answer to a locked door has something severely wrong with them –”
“I can date a guy now,” Steve says, his eyes crinkling in that way that means he’s trying not to laugh. “And the Navy can’t say there’s something wrong with me for wanting to.”
“Oh,” Danny says. And then, just because that’s kind of a huge revelation, he adds, “Oh.”
“Is that a problem?” Steve asks. His voice is casual but his shoulders are tense.
“Nope,” Danny says. Not in the ways Steve’s probably expecting, anyway. It’s a problem in the sense that now Danny’s wondering what Steve’s taste in men is like, and if it can possibly run to short, built blonds with a temper problem and a hatred for all things pineapple.
“Really?” Steve asks, turning and walking backwards so he can look at Danny properly.
“Really,” Danny says. Steve studies his face for a moment, and then stops abruptly.
“Oh,” he says, and a delighted smile slowly starts spreading across his face. Danny considers that for a moment, and then finds himself grinning like an idiot as Steve steps closer and repeats, “Oh!”
“We’re really good with words,” Danny says, and laughs into Steve’s kiss.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-12-26 11:13 am (UTC)inarticulate
Steve’s been odd all day, and Danny’s not quite sure what to make of it. Nothing particularly earth-shattering had happened recently, and there weren’t any anniversaries he was aware of that might be affecting Steve’s mood. It could, of course, be something related to Steve’s time in service, but if that was the case, there was probably nothing Danny could do about it.
All the same, Steve’s strange mood is bothering Danny more than he cares to admit. Danny also doesn’t have Grace this weekend, so on the presumption that misery loves company, he buys a six-pack and heads over to Steve’s house.
Danny lets himself in and leaves the beer in Steve’s fridge. He doesn’t even bother checking the rest of the house, and heads straight out for the lanai instead. The way Steve’s been the whole day, surely he’ll be out swimming.
Danny’s only half-correct, as it turns out. Steve’s outside and soaking wet, so clearly he’s just been swimming. But right now, he’s just sitting on the beach, well within the wash of the surf. The waves keep rolling up around him and then pulling back, and Steve just sits there and stares out at the water.
Danny finds himself trundling down the sand without even thinking about it.
“I brought beer,” he says, once he’s near enough to talk without shouting.
“Hand it over, then,” Steve says lazily.
“It’s inside,” Danny says. “You gonna go out in there again?”
Steve watches the waves for a few long seconds. “No,” he finally says, and hauls himself to his feet. Danny tries not to stare at the way Steve’s tattoos move as his arms flex. “Let’s go in.”
Subtlety is lost on Steve most of the time, and Danny suspects that now more than ever, he won’t get any answers if he skirts the question. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks bluntly.
“Nothing,” Steve says.
“Bullshit,” Danny says. “Something’s been bothering you all day.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Steve says, and just as Danny’s about to launch into a complaint about Steve brushing him off, he continues. “That’s the thing.”
“What’s the thing?” Danny asks, thrown. “That nothing’s wrong with you? I hate to break it to you, babe, but anything who thinks that grenades are an appropriate answer to a locked door has something severely wrong with them –”
“I can date a guy now,” Steve says, his eyes crinkling in that way that means he’s trying not to laugh. “And the Navy can’t say there’s something wrong with me for wanting to.”
“Oh,” Danny says. And then, just because that’s kind of a huge revelation, he adds, “Oh.”
“Is that a problem?” Steve asks. His voice is casual but his shoulders are tense.
“Nope,” Danny says. Not in the ways Steve’s probably expecting, anyway. It’s a problem in the sense that now Danny’s wondering what Steve’s taste in men is like, and if it can possibly run to short, built blonds with a temper problem and a hatred for all things pineapple.
“Really?” Steve asks, turning and walking backwards so he can look at Danny properly.
“Really,” Danny says. Steve studies his face for a moment, and then stops abruptly.
“Oh,” he says, and a delighted smile slowly starts spreading across his face. Danny considers that for a moment, and then finds himself grinning like an idiot as Steve steps closer and repeats, “Oh!”
“We’re really good with words,” Danny says, and laughs into Steve’s kiss.