He glances over to check in, rolls his eyes at the way Steve is looking at him now, letting out an exasperated breath. "What is that face, huh?"
He wants to warn him not to start anything, not to get into this with him, but part of him's ramping up for an argument, too, jsut like it had when Girl Number Two started running one manicured finger along the edge of Steve's sleeve. He wants to shove Steve's head into a wall, wants to grab his arm and shake him. His hands are itching to take hold of that cotton t-shirt and drag on it, and it's impossible to say whether he'd rather yell at Steve now or kiss him again.
Like it's his fault. And it is his fault, it's just not something Steve can actually control, this thing that makes people gravitate towards him. It's something he can't switch off, wouldn't, couldn't. The whole team is here because of it. Danny's here because of it, because after the first job was over, and they thought Victor Hesse was dead, Steve just never suggested that Danny go back to HPD, and Danny found that he didn't want to. Found himself already entangled in his brand new, psychotically violent partner, who already would not let a little thing like a nickname go without having to know every last stupid detail about it.
That part, he has no control over, sure. It's the rest that's gotten under Danny's skin, the fact that Steve might not have encouraged any of them, but he definitely didn't send them away, either, and, what is wrong with him that that is even any kind of a big deal? A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.
He should really remind himself of that more often, but it got a little hard to see through the fog of fury clouding his brain earlier.
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He glances over to check in, rolls his eyes at the way Steve is looking at him now, letting out an exasperated breath. "What is that face, huh?"
He wants to warn him not to start anything, not to get into this with him, but part of him's ramping up for an argument, too, jsut like it had when Girl Number Two started running one manicured finger along the edge of Steve's sleeve. He wants to shove Steve's head into a wall, wants to grab his arm and shake him. His hands are itching to take hold of that cotton t-shirt and drag on it, and it's impossible to say whether he'd rather yell at Steve now or kiss him again.
Like it's his fault. And it is his fault, it's just not something Steve can actually control, this thing that makes people gravitate towards him. It's something he can't switch off, wouldn't, couldn't. The whole team is here because of it. Danny's here because of it, because after the first job was over, and they thought Victor Hesse was dead, Steve just never suggested that Danny go back to HPD, and Danny found that he didn't want to. Found himself already entangled in his brand new, psychotically violent partner, who already would not let a little thing like a nickname go without having to know every last stupid detail about it.
That part, he has no control over, sure. It's the rest that's gotten under Danny's skin, the fact that Steve might not have encouraged any of them, but he definitely didn't send them away, either, and, what is wrong with him that that is even any kind of a big deal? A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.
He should really remind himself of that more often, but it got a little hard to see through the fog of fury clouding his brain earlier.