It's an impressive feat to feel five inches tall when you are over six feet, but it's there. A feeling he hasn't had in years. Ungainly and gangly with its limbs, but it doesn't make him shrink back. It makes him want to move now. To push off of Danny and put too much space between them, enough to stop Danny from shoving his fingers into what Steve knows he's not going to drop. Saying her name again, and how long ago that was. Like he didn't know.
"I do know how to count." Steve's words a little sharper, almost warily weary at some implication he'd missed his own life.
He knew. Of course, he knew then. It wasn't as clear when Danny went down in the doorway, unable to breathe, and he found himself shouting Danny's name, flashing back instantly to Freddie with the blood on his hands, and the promise he never kept, and the idea of having to do that for Grace now. He hadn't know what it was then. Fear, panic, necessity, focus. The rush of the moment. The relief too broad and overwhelming a feeling to quantify when Danny was out of the woods.
He hadn't really known entirely until that moment. When he walked in, honestly and entirely just to check on Danny, and found him, there, Rachel curled under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, fast asleep and then Danny turned and looked at him, smiling that smile. The one Steve had never seen before, or ever seen since. Like it wasn't designed to make every part of Steve suddenly nauseous and frozen. Stalling like an engine that ran out of fuel, even the idea of fuel, maybe never even had an engine installed, and only figured those things out thousands of feet above the ground.
Knowing was too easy then, even if easy was the wrong word. He knew it was more than it should have been by the try he managed to get out of the door to Danny's room, fast as possible, without tripping over his own feet, and out of the hospital. Like his worst demons and slain monsters were on his heels, instead of a grossly misplaced set of feelings about his partner that maybe he spent too much time with, that time proved weren't just the events of the day or their friendship overcasting it all. Knowing when wasn't a problem.
It wasn't like Danny tried to die every day. Even if it seemed more things of that magnitude found their way to him now, too.
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It's an impressive feat to feel five inches tall when you are over six feet, but it's there. A feeling he hasn't had in years. Ungainly and gangly with its limbs, but it doesn't make him shrink back. It makes him want to move now. To push off of Danny and put too much space between them, enough to stop Danny from shoving his fingers into what Steve knows he's not going to drop. Saying her name again, and how long ago that was. Like he didn't know.
"I do know how to count." Steve's words a little sharper, almost warily weary at some implication he'd missed his own life.
He knew. Of course, he knew then. It wasn't as clear when Danny went down in the doorway, unable to breathe, and he found himself shouting Danny's name, flashing back instantly to Freddie with the blood on his hands, and the promise he never kept, and the idea of having to do that for Grace now. He hadn't know what it was then. Fear, panic, necessity, focus. The rush of the moment. The relief too broad and overwhelming a feeling to quantify when Danny was out of the woods.
He hadn't really known entirely until that moment. When he walked in, honestly and entirely just to check on Danny, and found him, there, Rachel curled under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, fast asleep and then Danny turned and looked at him, smiling that smile. The one Steve had never seen before, or ever seen since. Like it wasn't designed to make every part of Steve suddenly nauseous and frozen. Stalling like an engine that ran out of fuel, even the idea of fuel, maybe never even had an engine installed, and only figured those things out thousands of feet above the ground.
Knowing was too easy then, even if easy was the wrong word. He knew it was more than it should have been by the try he managed to get out of the door to Danny's room, fast as possible, without tripping over his own feet, and out of the hospital. Like his worst demons and slain monsters were on his heels, instead of a grossly misplaced set of feelings about his partner that maybe he spent too much time with, that time proved weren't just the events of the day or their friendship overcasting it all. Knowing when wasn't a problem.
It wasn't like Danny tried to die every day. Even if it seemed more things of that magnitude found their way to him now, too.