Steve smirked at the snap of correction alight with fond amusement. And maybe with the way Danny actually doesn't fight having his hand stolen from him, like it's a possession Steve could just waltz off with and not connected to every other part of him. Especially when it's one of the parts that's always moving.

Maybe making it even more compelling. The knowledge that even he can only make it stay still so many seconds, or minutes. That he could hold on to him longer, but the truth is that'd be like the cemented plane museums. There's something wrong about all the stillness in things made to move and fly, fast and sharp through the air. When Danny's, even just his hands, it's like that.

So he knows it'll only last so long, and he knows he'll only hold it so long.

Even when it's a little funny. The way he tips his head, to watch between his thumb sliding in, to brush along the center of Danny's palm as he turns it, and settles it back down between them, and Danny's face through the complaints. Like it's something big, like somehow he hadn't just taken advantage of every single inch of Danny's skin, without much in the way of a request or questioning anywhere in it.

Mouth quirking upward at a corner, when he shoots straight back with, "But you're agreeing with me now."

If only because it was a convenient excuse or example to try and make Steve stay any more still than he ever really did.