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“Mom, please don’t let him send me away.” Steve pleads, reaching out to her.
“Oh, Steve.” His mom catches his hand, holding it so gently. “You know there’s no stopping your father once his mind is made up, sweetie.” A heavy smile paints her face. “And besides, there’s nothing I could do, now—don’t you remember, Steve?”
The hand holding his is suddenly wet, blood falling to the floor in a steady drip. Before his eyes his mothers image glitches like an old movie, shifting from hale and whole to the bloodied, ruined personage that he imagined she’d been after the accident, the thought up image that was plaguing his nightmares.
“I’m dead.”
----
Steve startled awake with a choked off gasp, just as he did every time he dreamt of his mother. The more his father pulled away from him and Mary, the worse they became; his subconscious attacking him as if he was responsible for the fallout of his mother’s death. Eyes darting about the room, Steve didn’t truly settle until his eyes stopped on a familiar mop of blond hair.
How Danny knew that he would be here, Steve didn’t know— he hadn’t even been aware of where he was running to until he was suddenly there. However he knew, Steve didn’t question it too hard, too overwhelmed with gratitude that he was there. Steve wasn’t sure how the night would have gone, without his best friend there, and he was relieved he wouldn’t ever have to find out.
Danny started to stir beside him, no doubt feeling the weight of his stare. The fact that he was waking up with such a grumpy look, underneath sleep tousled hair—Steve thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. That, combined with the low grumbling...Danny was more adorable than Steve could take, so early in the morning.
Those bright blue eyes met his, the little furrow in Danny’s brow smoothing for a moment before appearing again. “Mornin’ babe.” He mumbled. “Quit staring at me, you weirdo.”
Steve couldn’t stop the grin if he tried—and after the year he’d had, he didn’t want to. “Morning, Danny.” He reached out a hand, running gentle fingers through soft, untamed hair. “There’s an eighth wonder of the world happening right now, I can’t look away from that.”
Danny huffed and batted his hand away. “Shaddup, quit talkin’ shit.” He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, that furrow in his brow only deepening when it refused to do what he wanted, and continued to defy gravity instead.
Watching his friend, Steve was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he didn’t know when he would be able to see him again, to tease the smaller man and get the joy of seeing him unguarded like this. With the weight of that pressing him down, he sees no reason to hold it back anymore.
Steve sat up as well, shifting so that the length of their legs pressed together. “No talking shit here, Danny.” He waited for his friend to make eye contact before continuing. “I like when your hair is free like this, all soft. It makes me want to run my hands through it.”
Danny sat and stared at him in shock, mouth dropped open when Steve reached out and did just that. “It’s cute, Danny. Just like you are when you’re so grumpy in the morning.” He leaned in, fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Danny’s neck.
“I wish you would see yourself the way that I do.” The words were a murmur, soft and spoken so close they almost shaped themselves on Danny’s lips.
“Steve,” Danny breathed. His heart started to race; it was happening, they were going to finally kiss, it was a moment they had been waiting for—
—and then the stillness of the moment was broken, the loud rumble of his father’s marquis shocking them apart. And then his heart was racing for another reason, as the loud thud of his father’s footsteps announced his presence.
Fuck.