[For a moment, there's no sign of a reaction. Not in Steve's expression, not in his body. Even the hand that holds the keys to the apartment doesn't go anywhere, not until he lowers his gaze with parted lips, like he knew exactly what he was going to say before it just left him completely.
Steve wishes he could help. Both James and Steph, each for their own reasons. He loves her, and - once upon a time he loved him too, still believes he does now, even if he doesn't allow himself to think he could ever look at him the same way. (Then what happened that day, when he had to wash James' come from his hand while he heard him showering in the other room?) To think that anything could come between him and what he has with Steph seems so strange even though it was inevitable, knowing she has her own home she has to return to, no matter what happens here, and yet - he doesn't think it interfered, not exactly. It didn't change what he felt. If anything, it just... placed itself next to it, like a presence he can no longer ignore.
But this isn't about him. He wants to make it okay for James and he wants to make it stop hurting for Steph, wants her to have the chance he's getting, the blessing of knowing a friend you thought you'd lost isn't so far gone after all, even if there is so much they have to piece back together. He can see it hurts her, he can see the sadness in her smiles and reassurances because they're just like his, just like looking in a mirror.
Just like he's doing now.
He nods when he looks down and away, but he doesn't know why. It's a light, idle gesture. Then he turns and shuts the door, then he walks on over to the table to set the bags down.
Of course Steph would kiss him. He knows exactly how she feels because it's how he felt, and that needs no further explanation. And... of course James would kiss her in return. Of course it wouldn't have meant anything because it was Steve. It was a gesture, it was the pleasure of his hand between his legs - and whatever meaning it had for James was entirely physical and his responses came from nowhere emotional. Maybe he just craved the touch from someone who wanted him to have something... good. God knows he was denied that for too long. He sees that now.
With a sigh, he settles his hands heavily on the back of a chair, eyes down before they're up again, back on the couple that he's sure doesn't want to know what he's thinking.]
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thousandyard2014-08-05 12:05 am
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Steve wishes he could help. Both James and Steph, each for their own reasons. He loves her, and - once upon a time he loved him too, still believes he does now, even if he doesn't allow himself to think he could ever look at him the same way. (Then what happened that day, when he had to wash James' come from his hand while he heard him showering in the other room?) To think that anything could come between him and what he has with Steph seems so strange even though it was inevitable, knowing she has her own home she has to return to, no matter what happens here, and yet - he doesn't think it interfered, not exactly. It didn't change what he felt. If anything, it just... placed itself next to it, like a presence he can no longer ignore.
But this isn't about him. He wants to make it okay for James and he wants to make it stop hurting for Steph, wants her to have the chance he's getting, the blessing of knowing a friend you thought you'd lost isn't so far gone after all, even if there is so much they have to piece back together. He can see it hurts her, he can see the sadness in her smiles and reassurances because they're just like his, just like looking in a mirror.
Just like he's doing now.
He nods when he looks down and away, but he doesn't know why. It's a light, idle gesture. Then he turns and shuts the door, then he walks on over to the table to set the bags down.
Of course Steph would kiss him. He knows exactly how she feels because it's how he felt, and that needs no further explanation. And... of course James would kiss her in return. Of course it wouldn't have meant anything because it was Steve. It was a gesture, it was the pleasure of his hand between his legs - and whatever meaning it had for James was entirely physical and his responses came from nowhere emotional. Maybe he just craved the touch from someone who wanted him to have something... good. God knows he was denied that for too long. He sees that now.
With a sigh, he settles his hands heavily on the back of a chair, eyes down before they're up again, back on the couple that he's sure doesn't want to know what he's thinking.]
Who wants a smoothie.