Work Text:
Every time Danny reaches into your personal space, carelessly whispering little nonsensical facts in your ear, you are briefly tempted to just drop the fucking pretence, grab him by the tie and pull him in closer to your body. Closer and closer, desperately seeking out his warmth, until you’re breathing his air, smelling his skin and —almost, always almost— tasting his lips.
You decided a while ago to stop kidding yourself by accepting that a man is not just a colleague anymore when you can’t stop staring at his lips as they slightly part, giving you a brief, but oh so tempting glimpse of what you have desired for so long--
Red. Wet. Heat.
You realised then, that a man ceases to be just a friend when, every damn time you close your eyes –and ohgod you close them a lot more than you used to these days— you can see yourself closing the gap and lick your way into that beautiful mouth, not really caring who might see.
But, in the end, you don’t. You just stare some more and wait for him to pull away. And when he finally does –‘cause he always does—, the sounds from the people surrounding you in the office come crashing in again, hurting your ears.
And as he walks away, your eyes linger on his back. Even if this is the millionth time you’ve seen him leave, your eyes never waver.
It’s in those moments that you accept the truth for what it is, because there’s nowhere left to run.
You want him.
You need him.
You might just even love him.
But you are Martin and he is Danny. And somewhere, up there –wherever there is— someone decided that MartinandDanny are just--
Not. Meant. To. Be.