He watches Steve look down, study the splay of his fingers over Danny's chest and it makes those muscles tighten in response, contracting under touch and under glance. Still not used to Steve noticing him. Running fingers over Danny's stupid hairy chest, thick muscle that makes him heavier than he looks. That Steve wants to see. Touch. That Steve has run that smart mouth of his over, bitten faint marks into. That Steve somehow has not yet gotten enough of.
When it still blows his mind that Steve wants it at all. That everything Steve is could possibly want Danny. Danny and his temper. Danny and his five million words, most of which are used to insult Steve day in and out. Danny and his hands in the air everywhere.
It's mind-boggling. It's unreal. Steve shouldn't. He wasn't supposed to. But here he is, pressing Danny into his bed. Didn't let Danny leave. Reminded him that it's them. Together. Like always. "I'm just saying, you could maybe keep it below shirt level, huh? Or, better idea, avoid it in the first place."
Steve probably is amused by Kono and her less that subtle hints that Danny needs to tell her what the hell is going on, and, okay. If it weren't about him (if it weren't about Steve), Danny would find it cute. Endearing, even. She's sweet about it, and she's just concerned because they're friends and coworkers and she's in the middle of dealing with the fallout from one hell of a messed-up secret relationship of her own, which reminds Danny of how Steve mentioned she could have found a less complicated bed to fall into.
Which is hilarious, in retrospect. In that way where Danny doesn't want to laugh at all.
Except Steve is busy making all the alarms in Danny's head go off, and he's shaking his head, moving one hand to find Steve's chest, like he could possibly hold him off at all.
"Hey. Hey. No. I know that look. That is the look that says I should invest in some turtlenecks, and Steve, it is way too hot here for those, so, please, restrain yourself."
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When it still blows his mind that Steve wants it at all. That everything Steve is could possibly want Danny. Danny and his temper. Danny and his five million words, most of which are used to insult Steve day in and out. Danny and his hands in the air everywhere.
It's mind-boggling. It's unreal. Steve shouldn't. He wasn't supposed to. But here he is, pressing Danny into his bed. Didn't let Danny leave. Reminded him that it's them. Together. Like always. "I'm just saying, you could maybe keep it below shirt level, huh? Or, better idea, avoid it in the first place."
Steve probably is amused by Kono and her less that subtle hints that Danny needs to tell her what the hell is going on, and, okay. If it weren't about him (if it weren't about Steve), Danny would find it cute. Endearing, even. She's sweet about it, and she's just concerned because they're friends and coworkers and she's in the middle of dealing with the fallout from one hell of a messed-up secret relationship of her own, which reminds Danny of how Steve mentioned she could have found a less complicated bed to fall into.
Which is hilarious, in retrospect. In that way where Danny doesn't want to laugh at all.
Except Steve is busy making all the alarms in Danny's head go off, and he's shaking his head, moving one hand to find Steve's chest, like he could possibly hold him off at all.
"Hey. Hey. No. I know that look. That is the look that says I should invest in some turtlenecks, and Steve, it is way too hot here for those, so, please, restrain yourself."