Danny shifts in little waves. The arms that curves around his neck. The muscles where that wrist is resting. The flicker of eyelashes not far from skin. How close he is. Close enough Steve opens his eyes, just enough to focus, before drowsily shutting them, against this slow, soft glide of Danny's mouth brushing his skin.

The brush of warm, smoother than normal skin, causing prickled to rise straight down his neck. Causing his spine to straighten and shoulders to stretch a little, muscles tensing and relaxing like a wave, small pops and pulls, as the fingers in his hair curled gently.

Like somehow, without wiggling closer, without moving toward him at all, it might still not stop too fast.

Like maybe if he doesn't look anywhere else the world will just keep turning on with this. Danny half curled around him. The mess they've made of his blankets again, since they never do get to the bed unmade first. The sea and the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat. The way how anytime during the day he thinks of moments like this, it hurts almost like he's stabbed a pen in his leg.

But right now. Right now, it doesn't hurt. It feels like...breathing. Actually breathing. Actually quiet, heavy, almost peaceful. Even when he knows, he's not ignoring the shit storm that is waiting outside the front door for them tomorrow, and the next day and the next. Because it doesn't wait, and they charge in at it as much as it charges in at them. But right now, it's in it's place. It's tomorrow.

And he doesn't have to do anything else. Be anyone else. Just breathe out and let his head rest.

Court something a little like exhaustion. But a lot more like peace than any other part of his weeks lately.
Safe and quiet, drifting in and out, between consciousness and the temptation to give in to the place beyond it.