It's some kind of problem he's got, the way his heart lifts on Steve's tone, the lightness in his eyes, the way they've gone heavy-lidded and fond, and he's got that face, where his eyebrows pull up in the middle like he's curious, but it's all just a sham, because he knows what's coming out of his mouth, the things he's saying. Mixed in with the hand that spreads wide fingers over his ribs, nudges a thumb into his hair, Danny is at very serious risk of actually losing his bad mood altogether, in favor of burning this face, moment, feeling into his memory so he can pull it out and look at it any time he wants.

That face. He wants to frame it, hang it on a hook inside his head, because it's one he sees all the time and he can never get enough, can never see it for long enough to define all the subtle little tics and shades that cross Steve's features, while Danny's heart does calisthenics like he's never seen the guy before in his life.

Even while his own mouth twists, wry, as he raises his eyebrows. "Why, are you planning on flirting with me in bars?"

It's a weird thought, but it shouldn't be, because over the last month, he's noticed that not a lot has actually changed in their day to day interactions, and that's...weird, surely. It all feels different, seems like it means something different, when he's lobbing insults at Steve's head and then Steve goes off and does something spectacularly dangerous, but it isn't.

Which leads him to believe that, if this is flirting, they've been doing it for a whole lot longer than he can think about without wanting to turn in his badge on the grounds of being a terrible detective.