Steve rolled his eyes, again. But his smile turned sideways from rejectingly, fondly, amused this time. Like he was humoring her to admit it. Or maybe admitting that she was all the more appreciated or loved for humoring him in a deprecation few people would understand. The differences between responsibility, ownership and credit where credit was due.
The kind that blurred a lot more when you were the face of something as noticeable as Five-0, and it was as different as night and day. When everything could be traced and tracked exactly back, and people knew your face, or reported on what you did specifically. The kinds of things ground into his skin for decades that he did not do his job for, because they would never be happening.
The kinds of work where even Cath, who'd been here all these years, knew more of what he did now than any of the details he could have ever revealed then. Bits of cloudy allusion. The length's of missions, new scars, and freely given opinions on countries, or even types of food, they'd never talked about previously.
When he can settle for the exasperated fondness that spreads slow, but warm in his chest at her expression and teasing. And understanding that she's come to had over a lot of time. Enough to know what to poke and what not to. For the fact she's still smiling, even after the earlier severe expressions of earlier that could come out as easily, too.
That maybe this is some kind of impasse on that at least. So he gives her the goofy, proud, slightly fond smile, but leaves it at that. Pushing his plate toward the center of the table, as he lifted his beer. "Want the last one?"
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The kind that blurred a lot more when you were the face of something as noticeable as Five-0, and it was as different as night and day. When everything could be traced and tracked exactly back, and people knew your face, or reported on what you did specifically. The kinds of things ground into his skin for decades that he did not do his job for, because they would never be happening.
The kinds of work where even Cath, who'd been here all these years, knew more of what he did now than any of the details he could have ever revealed then. Bits of cloudy allusion. The length's of missions, new scars, and freely given opinions on countries, or even types of food, they'd never talked about previously.
When he can settle for the exasperated fondness that spreads slow, but warm in his chest at her expression and teasing. And understanding that she's come to had over a lot of time. Enough to know what to poke and what not to. For the fact she's still smiling, even after the earlier severe expressions of earlier that could come out as easily, too.
That maybe this is some kind of impasse on that at least. So he gives her the goofy, proud, slightly fond smile, but leaves it at that. Pushing his plate toward the center of the table, as he lifted his beer. "Want the last one?"