He makes a disgusted face and brushes at his own sleeve, after Steve's hand lifts, like he might be able to bat away the moisture wiped there, taking refuge in motion and reaction to quell the sudden lurch of his stomach that's got nothing to do with the fact that he's on his third beer in what is probably less than an hour. "Do I look like a napkin to you?"
On purpose, naturally. Danny didn't miss that little shift towards the hip of Steve's cargoes, so now he's just doing it to piss Danny off. So, business as usual, then, with the added bonus of a willing audience to grin every time Steve does something ridiculous, and for a second, all he wants is to warn her off, for her own sake and not his, because Steve is a nightmare, honestly, behind stupid goofy smiles that shine across the room like the sun rose early, behind dark blue eyes that crinkle when he's pleased, like now.
Even when Danny can hear the disinterest in his voice that's she's either ignoring or not getting, pressing her question while Steve slides around the table, eying shots
"Believe me," he says, "it's better not to know. Sometimes I think it's just a bad dream, myself."
A dirty lie. They've done too much good, taken out too many bad guys, saved too many people for him to think that's true, and that's not even counting the ways in which Five-0's become his family, the little, sometimes fragile, always fiercely loyal one he can depend on for anything, anytime, anywhere.
Even if his partner is systematically driving him crazy, tonight.
She shrugs, leans to take a shot, black hair falling over one shoulder in glossy waves. "Fair enough," she says, and the back of Danny;s neck prickles at the tilting smile she shoots at Steve. "Can't say a girl doesn't appreciate a little mystery."
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He makes a disgusted face and brushes at his own sleeve, after Steve's hand lifts, like he might be able to bat away the moisture wiped there, taking refuge in motion and reaction to quell the sudden lurch of his stomach that's got nothing to do with the fact that he's on his third beer in what is probably less than an hour. "Do I look like a napkin to you?"
On purpose, naturally. Danny didn't miss that little shift towards the hip of Steve's cargoes, so now he's just doing it to piss Danny off. So, business as usual, then, with the added bonus of a willing audience to grin every time Steve does something ridiculous, and for a second, all he wants is to warn her off, for her own sake and not his, because Steve is a nightmare, honestly, behind stupid goofy smiles that shine across the room like the sun rose early, behind dark blue eyes that crinkle when he's pleased, like now.
Even when Danny can hear the disinterest in his voice that's she's either ignoring or not getting, pressing her question while Steve slides around the table, eying shots
"Believe me," he says, "it's better not to know. Sometimes I think it's just a bad dream, myself."
A dirty lie. They've done too much good, taken out too many bad guys, saved too many people for him to think that's true, and that's not even counting the ways in which Five-0's become his family, the little, sometimes fragile, always fiercely loyal one he can depend on for anything, anytime, anywhere.
Even if his partner is systematically driving him crazy, tonight.
She shrugs, leans to take a shot, black hair falling over one shoulder in glossy waves. "Fair enough," she says, and the back of Danny;s neck prickles at the tilting smile she shoots at Steve. "Can't say a girl doesn't appreciate a little mystery."