His hand doesn't lift off Steve's hip, exactly -- his fingers do, arching loosely, and it shifts a little, a muted gesture, but it doesn't actually go anywhere. "You know, contrary to what she believes, that woman has no actual say in my social life."

He could point out that Steve didn't seem to care what Kono thought the day after he left Danny covered in bruises, visible enough that her scarily sharp eyes caught the one at his neck a mile away. It's true that Kono would hound him for weeks if she thought he was just being difficult, but Kono still thinks he's seeing someone on the sly, which he has not, exactly, argued with.

He just hasn't used any names, or even insinuated that it's a woman. Still, he's glad there haven't been any more, uh. Incidents, regarding his neck and any marks she might be able to see.

He doesn't add it, though, because Steve's gone still. Not relaxed, still, like he's just had some sort of second thought, and when Danny blinks his open to half-mast and looks, there he is, watching him, looking too serious and too -- what is that? Wary? For what? Where would that even come from right now, when the room is close and the dark is soft and warm and weariness is blurring the edges of all Danny's muscles and thoughts.

Making Danny's eyebrows dip, slightly, drawing loosely together before lifting. Fingers settling back on Steve's skin, uncertain what might be causing that slightly stilted tone, but it's not a warning or a complaint, so he's not letting go.

Possibly wouldn't, even if it were.

"I think she thinks I'm doing okay for myself recently, anyhow."