All of Danny words. He can tick them off. From the face on yesterday morning. Things he knew, even if he hadn't known Danny would come back right away. Hadn't ever consider we would, wanted to, might. But it's the last sentence that sticks like a burr into the space where his shoulders had almost dropping a little for Danny's first words.

"Yeah, Danny," Is annoyed, and it actually comes out slightly patronized, without any hedging moment to even consider or think about the question, or the answer. "I think you do. Especially if it takes all of -- what? two seconds? -- for it to vanish."

Which is unfair, and he's knows its unfair when it's left his mouth.

Because Danny was on the walk, when Steve had gotten the door open, but he wasn't leaving. He didn't even look like he had it in him to figure out how to leave. Like it had taken everything out of him to grab the door, vanish through it, and let it slam shut behind him. Before everything else in his will fled him for parts unknown.

But it's really no more unfair that walking into his house and fleeing without letting Steve even get a word out, without asking, without anything but assuming the very worst of him, like that was what Danny knew to expect from him. After all of these years. And. Fine. Fine.

He might not have some comfortable record for Danny to hold up in his hands, or esteem. But he wasn't that either.