Not vocally, anyway. Just settles his chin on the back of his hand, weight pressing gentle against Danny's shoulder and feeling like the reassuring pressure of piece, badge, seatbelt, eyebrows lifting. Inviting Danny to explain himself, even though Danny knows any attempt at explanation will be followed with the faintly amused, knowing look Steve gets when he thinks Danny is talking too much, using unnecessary words.
As if Danny might have missed whatever was going on, over there, just a minute ago. As if he could possibly have overlooked that expression on Steve's face, the lie that everything is fine, the soft singing of tense muscles in his back and shoulders. Drawing himself together. Ready at all times to prove that the best defense is a good offense, even when there's nothing coming after him.
Not in the room, anyway. Not from Danny. Which leaves only one option.
His fingers curl into a loose fist, and he knocks them, gently, against the side of Steve's head. "It's like rats in a maze in there." Always working. Always moving. Finding dead ends and trying to scratch their way through. Steve's head is a miserable place, but that doesn't give it the right to ruin Steve's night.
Rats that can suddenly turn into stampeding buffalo, if Danny steps wrong, but they're in Steve's bed, it's late in the night, the world is as peaceful as it can be in their immediate vicinity, and when has he ever let Steve's unwillingness to be dragged back into sanity keep him from trying?
One day, maybe, Steve will snap and just gag him (least violent of the possibilities, but he's willing to bet he wouldn't be outright murdered -- there would be too many questions and Kono, at least, would miss him), but he doesn't think it's going to be tonight.
no subject
Steve doesn't reply.
Not vocally, anyway. Just settles his chin on the back of his hand, weight pressing gentle against Danny's shoulder and feeling like the reassuring pressure of piece, badge, seatbelt, eyebrows lifting. Inviting Danny to explain himself, even though Danny knows any attempt at explanation will be followed with the faintly amused, knowing look Steve gets when he thinks Danny is talking too much, using unnecessary words.
As if Danny might have missed whatever was going on, over there, just a minute ago. As if he could possibly have overlooked that expression on Steve's face, the lie that everything is fine, the soft singing of tense muscles in his back and shoulders. Drawing himself together. Ready at all times to prove that the best defense is a good offense, even when there's nothing coming after him.
Not in the room, anyway. Not from Danny. Which leaves only one option.
His fingers curl into a loose fist, and he knocks them, gently, against the side of Steve's head. "It's like rats in a maze in there." Always working. Always moving. Finding dead ends and trying to scratch their way through. Steve's head is a miserable place, but that doesn't give it the right to ruin Steve's night.
Rats that can suddenly turn into stampeding buffalo, if Danny steps wrong, but they're in Steve's bed, it's late in the night, the world is as peaceful as it can be in their immediate vicinity, and when has he ever let Steve's unwillingness to be dragged back into sanity keep him from trying?
One day, maybe, Steve will snap and just gag him (least violent of the possibilities, but he's willing to bet he wouldn't be outright murdered -- there would be too many questions and Kono, at least, would miss him), but he doesn't think it's going to be tonight.