Steve pushes like a cat, reluctant to admit it wants to be petted, but purring none the less, and Danny's fingers rub a little against his scalp. He knows that tone, even if he can't really see that face, and it makes him grin, too, a pale flash of teeth in the darkness. "It's good to have priorities."
It's true that sleep isn't always, or even often, the top of those, here, even on those days when he feels like he's been standing there being pummeled by the world, unable to throw a single punch back, even on the ones that leave him dragging and exhausted. Not that there haven't been a few times, when they've been too tired, when the day's been too long, when the case hits them in the worst and weakest spots and multiplies every thought about Rachel and Grace, Vegas, Doris, Malia. Reminds them, as if they needed it, that Wo Fat is at large again.
And sometimes, it's nice just to relax and let sleep carry them away. Even if Steve sleeps like shit, even if Danny's only gotten him to stay in bed past dawn a couple of times after that first Sunday.
But not often. They're not really at the stage where just sleeping together is the point; it's all still new and he can't get enough of Steve's skin, touch, body, mouth.
And who knows if they'll ever get to that point past it, once this burns out and settles into either a heap of ashes or the sort of smoldering coals that can keep going, indefinitely. The whole idea of this turning over into the kind of complacency that he suspects would bore Steve is one he doesn't especially want to consider right now, so he doesn't, just admits that, yeah, there are, definitely, things he prefers to sleep.
This is pushing the top of that list, honestly. Lying relaxed in the dark, fingers in Steve's hair, on his skin, feeling him breathe, listening to him joke around.
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It's true that sleep isn't always, or even often, the top of those, here, even on those days when he feels like he's been standing there being pummeled by the world, unable to throw a single punch back, even on the ones that leave him dragging and exhausted. Not that there haven't been a few times, when they've been too tired, when the day's been too long, when the case hits them in the worst and weakest spots and multiplies every thought about Rachel and Grace, Vegas, Doris, Malia. Reminds them, as if they needed it, that Wo Fat is at large again.
And sometimes, it's nice just to relax and let sleep carry them away. Even if Steve sleeps like shit, even if Danny's only gotten him to stay in bed past dawn a couple of times after that first Sunday.
But not often. They're not really at the stage where just sleeping together is the point; it's all still new and he can't get enough of Steve's skin, touch, body, mouth.
And who knows if they'll ever get to that point past it, once this burns out and settles into either a heap of ashes or the sort of smoldering coals that can keep going, indefinitely. The whole idea of this turning over into the kind of complacency that he suspects would bore Steve is one he doesn't especially want to consider right now, so he doesn't, just admits that, yeah, there are, definitely, things he prefers to sleep.
This is pushing the top of that list, honestly. Lying relaxed in the dark, fingers in Steve's hair, on his skin, feeling him breathe, listening to him joke around.
There are worse things.