The hands go up and the topic goes out. Hard. Fast. Forceful. Those few words.
For a sleek, small sports car it suddenly has far too much space, seems too big, when everything gets quiet. The engine runs quietly enough and mostly of the lights are green. He might take the posted speed limit as a suggestion, more during work than this, because there's more reason then, but he does at least obey those laws. When he knows it's going to work. He doesn't doubt being right.
At least not at first. Not for a good few miles. Except that Danny is still silent. Still looking out his windows. Still too still. And he has to start wondering if maybe it was the wrong thing. The wrong option. When Danny's spent most of the night shoving comments in edgewise, sharp and angry and demanding to be heard, or standing at an edge quietly. When maybe it was the worst thing he could have pressed now.
When it's the last thing he wants. Okay. Alright. Really. No. He'd rather have Danny read out whatever the newest court case updates he'd gotten for the week were than sit in silence. When they're away from work, from the radio's and their teammates, and the job, as much as Five-0, without their phones on all night, is ever off the job, even when they're off hours.
But. Especially after what he just saw. That horrible travesty charading as subtly. The last thing he wants is silence now. With him. When Danny couldn't manage it for anyone else all night. When it's only adding to it, the slow claws dragging down the solid chamber of stomach, questioning whether maybe the end of the night might come very soon, and he may have to let it.
Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later right?
That house is both too close and not close enough.
Only another minute at best.
Before the tension in his lungs snaps with a side shuffle of nearly painful relief on that side of his chest, and a flood of possessive, reflexive feeling trying to re-choke him, for the tone those words come in. When Danny isn't exactly surrendering, but he's commenting. Oblique to the reference, to the evening.
Steve lets his head tilt, cant on the head rest to look over, as he's turning on to the road that will get them there. There's a faint air of success very subtle around his mostly bare expression, when he is at least regarding Danny with something as wary, not all that interested in planning another such night second free from it, as it is weightedly curious."Yeah?"
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For a sleek, small sports car it suddenly has far too much space, seems too big, when everything gets quiet. The engine runs quietly enough and mostly of the lights are green. He might take the posted speed limit as a suggestion, more during work than this, because there's more reason then, but he does at least obey those laws. When he knows it's going to work. He doesn't doubt being right.
At least not at first. Not for a good few miles. Except that Danny is still silent. Still looking out his windows. Still too still. And he has to start wondering if maybe it was the wrong thing. The wrong option. When Danny's spent most of the night shoving comments in edgewise, sharp and angry and demanding to be heard, or standing at an edge quietly. When maybe it was the worst thing he could have pressed now.
When it's the last thing he wants. Okay. Alright. Really. No. He'd rather have Danny read out whatever the newest court case updates he'd gotten for the week were than sit in silence. When they're away from work, from the radio's and their teammates, and the job, as much as Five-0, without their phones on all night, is ever off the job, even when they're off hours.
But. Especially after what he just saw. That horrible travesty charading as subtly. The last thing he wants is silence now. With him. When Danny couldn't manage it for anyone else all night. When it's only adding to it, the slow claws dragging down the solid chamber of stomach, questioning whether maybe the end of the night might come very soon, and he may have to let it.
Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later right?
That house is both too close and not close enough.
Only another minute at best.
Before the tension in his lungs snaps with a side shuffle of nearly painful relief on that side of his chest, and a flood of possessive, reflexive feeling trying to re-choke him, for the tone those words come in. When Danny isn't exactly surrendering, but he's commenting. Oblique to the reference, to the evening.
Steve lets his head tilt, cant on the head rest to look over, as he's turning on to the road that will get them there. There's a faint air of success very subtle around his mostly bare expression, when he is at least regarding Danny with something as wary, not all that interested in planning another such night second free from it, as it is weightedly curious."Yeah?"