He realizes, as Steve's following him, finally, that Steve's tie is gone. Making him think back to standing at the bar, wrapping his fingers around the silk, and tugging, and how he knew he'd pay for it.
Like he is, now. This moment. Potentially for the rest of the night, the weekend, the week, forever. Maybe he finally found the thing Steve wouldn't forgive.
It's not until he's turning to open the passenger seat door, and Steve's finally holding up his hands for the keys and saying Danny's in too much of a rush (of course he'd say that, it's not like he wants to be stuck in a tiny space with Danny after the shit Danny pulled, but they don't have an option, exactly) that he realizes his own outfit isn't exactly as precise as it was when he walked through the door: the vest is hanging loose, and his shirt is rumpled.
Buttons Steve undid, while pressing him against the wall, that Danny dragged him into. Before hauling him down the hallway. With that smile. Those promises.
All the things Steve did, to make this op work. To be the best. To make it look good. Convincing. To make a guy with a syringe and a knife follow them into the dark and make a mistake.
He never meant to catch Danny in it, too, but that's Danny's mistake. His problem. He can't blame Steve for not wanting to deal with it, but they'll have to. They're partners, and they need to be able to work together, which isn't something Danny's had to question in almost five years.
Five years he's just smashed, maybe irreparably. "You know I hate being out late," he says, finally sticking his hand in his pocket to find the keys, toss them over the roof to Steve in a motion that feels mechanical, for all he's done it a thousand times. "What, you want to stick around?"
Something catches his eye, some sixth sense tickling the hairs at the back of his neck, and he half-turns, fingers already fixing the buttons on his vest, hand lifting to comb his hair back into place, to see the guy from the bar -- the one who thought he could have Steve -- glaring at him, as a uniform eases him into a cruiser.
Well, it's not like either of them are going to be having a great night, after all.
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He realizes, as Steve's following him, finally, that Steve's tie is gone. Making him think back to standing at the bar, wrapping his fingers around the silk, and tugging, and how he knew he'd pay for it.
Like he is, now. This moment. Potentially for the rest of the night, the weekend, the week, forever. Maybe he finally found the thing Steve wouldn't forgive.
It's not until he's turning to open the passenger seat door, and Steve's finally holding up his hands for the keys and saying Danny's in too much of a rush (of course he'd say that, it's not like he wants to be stuck in a tiny space with Danny after the shit Danny pulled, but they don't have an option, exactly) that he realizes his own outfit isn't exactly as precise as it was when he walked through the door: the vest is hanging loose, and his shirt is rumpled.
Buttons Steve undid, while pressing him against the wall, that Danny dragged him into. Before hauling him down the hallway. With that smile. Those promises.
All the things Steve did, to make this op work. To be the best. To make it look good. Convincing. To make a guy with a syringe and a knife follow them into the dark and make a mistake.
He never meant to catch Danny in it, too, but that's Danny's mistake. His problem. He can't blame Steve for not wanting to deal with it, but they'll have to. They're partners, and they need to be able to work together, which isn't something Danny's had to question in almost five years.
Five years he's just smashed, maybe irreparably. "You know I hate being out late," he says, finally sticking his hand in his pocket to find the keys, toss them over the roof to Steve in a motion that feels mechanical, for all he's done it a thousand times. "What, you want to stick around?"
Something catches his eye, some sixth sense tickling the hairs at the back of his neck, and he half-turns, fingers already fixing the buttons on his vest, hand lifting to comb his hair back into place, to see the guy from the bar -- the one who thought he could have Steve -- glaring at him, as a uniform eases him into a cruiser.
Well, it's not like either of them are going to be having a great night, after all.