Hope this is okay with the artist
Steve wakes up slowly, awareness coming in layers—the warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains, the scent of coffee in the air, the weight of something familiar and new all at once. Danny.
The memories hit next, a slow, steady tide rolling in—Danny’s hands on him, the sound of his voice, the way he had fit so perfectly against him. The way they had moved together, like they had been waiting for this all along.
Steve exhales, dragging a hand over his face as reality settles in. He should be panicking. Maybe a part of him is. But mostly, what he feels is right. Like something in him has finally clicked into place.
The sound of movement draws him out of bed, and he finds Danny in the kitchen, mug in hand, his free hand rubbing absently at his stomach.
Steve leans against the doorframe for a second, taking in the sight before him.
Danny, standing there in his T-shirt—too big, hanging loose, exposing just enough of his stomach to make Steve’s mouth go dry. His hair is a mess, his skin is still marked with faint traces of Steve’s hands, and damn, if that isn’t the best thing Steve has ever seen.
A slow, smug grin spreads across his face.
Danny hasn’t noticed him yet, which is fine, because Steve is more than happy to just stand here and enjoy the view. The way Danny’s fingers curl around the coffee mug, the way he shifts his weight slightly, the way his lips purse after he takes a sip—like he’s already irritated about something. Perfect.
And Steve—well, Steve is feeling very good this morning.
He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room, moving with purpose.
Danny startles slightly when Steve’s hands find his waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of the shirt, sliding against warm skin like he belongs there.
“Morning to you too,” Danny mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it.
Steve hums against his neck, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the spot just beneath his ear. “You look good in my shirt,” he murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, thick with something else.
Danny lets out a breath, his body relaxing against Steve’s, tilting his head slightly, just enough to give him more access.
“That so?” Danny says, and Steve can hear the smirk in his voice.
Steve grins, dragging his hands over Danny’s stomach, his fingers teasing at the hem of the shirt, slipping just a little lower, just to feel him squirm.
Danny huffs, takes another sip of coffee like he’s not affected, but his breath catches when Steve’s hands move again, fingers pressing just hard enough to make his point.
“You sleep okay?” Steve asks, his voice deceptively casual as he nudges Danny’s hair aside and brushes his lips against the sensitive skin behind his ear.
Danny makes a noise, low and pleased, like maybe this is what he wanted from the start.
“Didn’t get much sleep,” Danny mutters, though there’s no real complaint in it.
Steve chuckles, hands tightening just slightly, just enough to remind Danny exactly why he didn’t get much sleep. “You saying I kept you up?”
Danny sighs dramatically, leaning back against him fully now, one hand coming up to rest over Steve’s on his stomach. “I’m saying I was manhandled.”
Steve smirks, pressing his hips just a little closer. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
Danny huffs but tilts his head back, eyes meeting Steve’s, warm and full of something real.
“You gonna let me drink my coffee or what?”
Steve grins, nudging Danny’s ear with his nose, pressing one last slow, teasing kiss to the side of his neck before pulling back slightly—just enough to let Danny breathe, but not nearly enough to let go.
His hands keep moving, slow and lazy, tracing every inch of skin they can reach. Because he can. Because he’s never letting this go.
Danny exhales, shifting in his grip just enough to face him fully. “You okay?”
Danny huffs, shaking his head. “Right. Because that was convincing.”
Steve exhales, his hands still moving in slow, lazy circles over Danny’s skin, like stopping would mean losing this, losing him. And he can’t—he won’t.
So he just says it. Not with fanfare, not with some dramatic declaration, but with the simple, quiet truth of it.
“I’m gonna make this last forever.”
Danny stills for a second, then sets his coffee down, eyes locked onto Steve’s.
Steve holds his gaze. Doesn’t flinch.
“Don’t tell me it’s impossible.”
Danny’s throat bobs. His hands slide up, gripping Steve’s wrists, like he needs something to hold onto.
Steve shakes his head, voice steady.
Danny lets out a breath—shaky, almost a laugh.
“I love you for infinity.”
He tugs Steve forward, pressing their foreheads together, his hands gripping him like he’s afraid to let go.
“You really need to stop listening to sappy music,” Danny mutters, voice rough.
Steve grins, relief flooding through him like a tide. “Not a chance.”
Danny tilts his chin up, presses his mouth to Steve’s—soft and lingering, but with just enough teeth to promise more.
“Good,” Danny murmurs, lips brushing against Steve’s. “Because I love you for infinity, too.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/63827116
