He could probably fall asleep, just like this, and live with the mocking Steve would milk for years, falling asleep while Steve plays with his hair, but it feels good, okay? It's one of the side effects of wearing it this way, all slicked back -- getting messed up, having fingers run through it, feels amazing. It always has.
He doesn't, though, because Steve's fingers aren't just. They pause, toy with a piece, rolling it gently between fingerpads, which is a strange sort of idleness, for Steve. He isn't usually given to just touching for touch's sake, even like this, even when his hands never leave Danny's skin. It's like distraction. Like he's hoping Danny not meeting his eyes will mean Danny has hit his head somewhere and forgotten how to read the rest of his face.
And it just doesn't fit. The words, and that expression. Like he's steeling himself. Finding some guardrail, against...what, exactly? "Yeah, maybe."
He's not. Okay. He is sure that's probably better. Right? He's got no idea how any of this would go down with the team. Aside from wreaking havoc with protocol, they've been professional, working together. This hasn't screwed up their partnership the way he thought it might. Nothing's different, it's just...more.
He's not sure Chin and Kono would find that comforting.
But outside work. Outside work brings people like those girls, sharks in sparkly tank-tops with toothpaste-commercial smiles, and he's just not sure he's entirely sold on the prospect of that continuing to happen, while he continues to not be able to stop it one it starts. Or before.
None of which explains why Steve is looking the way he is, toying thoughtlessly with Danny's hair the way he is, except then his fingers tighten and rub hard against Danny's head, making him close his eyes briefly, while his arm tightens in response. Like he's checking in. Making sure Steve is good. That everything is still on the shelves in that head of his, and not mixed up in pieces on the floor.
As much as can be expected, anyway.
And, okay. Maybe, just a little bit, standing his ground the way he wished he could have at the bar. "Everything good over there?"
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He doesn't, though, because Steve's fingers aren't just. They pause, toy with a piece, rolling it gently between fingerpads, which is a strange sort of idleness, for Steve. He isn't usually given to just touching for touch's sake, even like this, even when his hands never leave Danny's skin. It's like distraction. Like he's hoping Danny not meeting his eyes will mean Danny has hit his head somewhere and forgotten how to read the rest of his face.
And it just doesn't fit. The words, and that expression. Like he's steeling himself. Finding some guardrail, against...what, exactly? "Yeah, maybe."
He's not. Okay. He is sure that's probably better. Right? He's got no idea how any of this would go down with the team. Aside from wreaking havoc with protocol, they've been professional, working together. This hasn't screwed up their partnership the way he thought it might. Nothing's different, it's just...more.
He's not sure Chin and Kono would find that comforting.
But outside work. Outside work brings people like those girls, sharks in sparkly tank-tops with toothpaste-commercial smiles, and he's just not sure he's entirely sold on the prospect of that continuing to happen, while he continues to not be able to stop it one it starts. Or before.
None of which explains why Steve is looking the way he is, toying thoughtlessly with Danny's hair the way he is, except then his fingers tighten and rub hard against Danny's head, making him close his eyes briefly, while his arm tightens in response. Like he's checking in. Making sure Steve is good. That everything is still on the shelves in that head of his, and not mixed up in pieces on the floor.
As much as can be expected, anyway.
And, okay. Maybe, just a little bit, standing his ground the way he wished he could have at the bar. "Everything good over there?"