The world is a shell of itself. Inverted and decimated. The hollow, white noise, rushing noise that is water flooding in a hole too far down or air escaping one too far up. Steve's head and his body aren't even making that much of one. Not when his body feels like it only narrowly managed to even contain the explosion inside of it. Everything else that hollow screaming white noise. Not screaming. Just layered. Hard and heavy and huge. Between every cell, muscle, and bone.
Thinking is not something his head wants to do. Can't do. Can. He can force it, but it feels gloriously empty and he's not even sure the last time anything, that wasn't the rush of a good rough fight with someone, felt this intense. He doesn't even want to open his eyes, forcing them from their exodus for duty and ability.
Danny shifts, fingers and palms suddenly finding Steve's back, pulling and pushing, some lever, warm and wide, that paints his back into existing, and he makes a noise. Someone to the side of Steve's gead. Both together making Steve have to pry up his eyelids to the flat of a shoulder and Danny's head to his side. Some noise he couldn't entirely remember or piece together, but there were other things he was. Danny made some noise. Danny's hand were on his back.
Because he hadn't thought. He'd. He was an idiot.
Clarity of that fact, smashing into the mirror, even while the clouds clung.
"Oh, hey, sorry-" Steve was pushing up, only catching up with mess that didn't matter when it clashed with not collapsing on Danny by way of having absolutely collapsed on Danny. The way he never would have collapsed on top of Cath. Or anyone. Ever. Not at his height. Not at his weight. That he should have been more careful. Earlier. Should have even thought about Danny's knee, like he hadn't even remembered the man had knees at all until this second, even when he'd had his head next to one, and whatever the hell else he had forgotten, too.
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The world is a shell of itself. Inverted and decimated. The hollow, white noise, rushing noise that is water flooding in a hole too far down or air escaping one too far up. Steve's head and his body aren't even making that much of one. Not when his body feels like it only narrowly managed to even contain the explosion inside of it. Everything else that hollow screaming white noise. Not screaming. Just layered. Hard and heavy and huge. Between every cell, muscle, and bone.
Thinking is not something his head wants to do. Can't do. Can. He can force it, but it feels gloriously empty and he's not even sure the last time anything, that wasn't the rush of a good rough fight with someone, felt this intense. He doesn't even want to open his eyes, forcing them from their exodus for duty and ability.
Danny shifts, fingers and palms suddenly finding Steve's back, pulling and pushing, some lever, warm and wide, that paints his back into existing, and he makes a noise. Someone to the side of Steve's gead. Both together making Steve have to pry up his eyelids to the flat of a shoulder and Danny's head to his side. Some noise he couldn't entirely remember or piece together, but there were other things he was. Danny made some noise. Danny's hand were on his back.
Because he hadn't thought. He'd. He was an idiot.
Clarity of that fact, smashing into the mirror, even while the clouds clung.
"Oh, hey, sorry-" Steve was pushing up, only catching up with mess that didn't matter when it clashed with not collapsing on Danny by way of having absolutely collapsed on Danny. The way he never would have collapsed on top of Cath. Or anyone. Ever. Not at his height. Not at his weight. That he should have been more careful. Earlier. Should have even thought about Danny's knee, like he hadn't even remembered the man had knees at all until this second, even when he'd had his head next to one, and whatever the hell else he had forgotten, too.