His house is full of momentary standoff's. When his single would plunks down in the middle of the silence like a heavy coin hitting water solidly, before it vanishes entirely, eaten by the same water it hit. That's how it feels at least. Like it came out, sounded for a second, and without an echo even, gotten by the room.
By the look on Danny's face. How his entire reaction is this helpless section of movements. Rubbing at his face again. His eyes, his temple, looking like he has not a single clue in hell what to even say to Steve's stupid one-word greeting. Like he hasn't been here a while already. Like greetings of any kind weren't torched under the flood boards a while back, and Steve's just choosing to ignore it.
Until he does open his mouth, and Danny's voice fills part of that silence everywhere. Skipping any response and going right back to what plastered across his entire expression. Apologizing for Catherine, who could hold her own against sailors, but wasn't much a fan of awkward drama. Or him burning the rulebook he never burned unless it was for saving someone's life. Now.
Steve's eyebrows lifted, sharp and direct in the tired look he's giving Danny, without even making the gesture to get much further form the door than one, two, maybe, three steps. "Which was?"
Because maybe it's cruel. But he thought he knew.
He thought he knew, when Danny stepped in the door, still in a t-shirt and those blue jeans, the ones still on him now, that Steve has not seen Danny anywhere near enough times to fill the count on one hand. That meant he must have come, without even going home, right? When Steve was barely halfway into the surprise of getting to see Danny anytime before tomorrow morning, all the way into forgetting there was anyone sitting by him, before it pulverized by on the look on Danny face and he ran away.
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By the look on Danny's face. How his entire reaction is this helpless section of movements. Rubbing at his face again. His eyes, his temple, looking like he has not a single clue in hell what to even say to Steve's stupid one-word greeting. Like he hasn't been here a while already. Like greetings of any kind weren't torched under the flood boards a while back, and Steve's just choosing to ignore it.
Until he does open his mouth, and Danny's voice fills part of that silence everywhere. Skipping any response and going right back to what plastered across his entire expression. Apologizing for Catherine, who could hold her own against sailors, but wasn't much a fan of awkward drama. Or him burning the rulebook he never burned unless it was for saving someone's life. Now.
Steve's eyebrows lifted, sharp and direct in the tired look he's giving Danny, without even making the gesture to get much further form the door than one, two, maybe, three steps. "Which was?"
Because maybe it's cruel. But he thought he knew.
He thought he knew, when Danny stepped in the door, still in a t-shirt and those blue jeans, the ones still on him now, that Steve has not seen Danny anywhere near enough times to fill the count on one hand. That meant he must have come, without even going home, right? When Steve was barely halfway into the surprise of getting to see Danny anytime before tomorrow morning, all the way into forgetting there was anyone sitting by him, before it pulverized by on the look on Danny face and he ran away.