It's still low, and still intent, but it's grinding less in his chest, painting his vision with something other than glassy red, because Steve looks like he's tearing himself apart.
Not that he's moving. He isn't. He's standing stock still and regimental, leaning slightly towards Danny and the hand circling his wrist, eyes on Danny's face, jaw clenched so tight Danny can watch the muscle jumping in it like a fish flipping underwater.
It's enough to make him back off, if not back down, because Steve's motionless, but that doesn't mean there's nothing going on, under the tense thrum of muscle, like Steve's not quite sure if he's going to try and break Danny's grip or not. Blue eyes stuck on Danny's face, and there's something in them that reminds Danny of someone clinging to a window ledge, knowing they're going to have to let go any second -- the desolation and resignation. Some twisted idea of duty that has Steve so tangled up in himself that he can't even move.
Making Danny's fingers tighten, but not to hold, this time. Not because Steve is still not listening, but because Steve looks like he needs that, someone to pull him back up. "You can't what?"
When it's still gruff, but almost gentle, because he needs to know, okay. He needs to know what it is, so he can fix it, and Steve can drop this whole we shouldn't do this idea.
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It's still low, and still intent, but it's grinding less in his chest, painting his vision with something other than glassy red, because Steve looks like he's tearing himself apart.
Not that he's moving. He isn't. He's standing stock still and regimental, leaning slightly towards Danny and the hand circling his wrist, eyes on Danny's face, jaw clenched so tight Danny can watch the muscle jumping in it like a fish flipping underwater.
It's enough to make him back off, if not back down, because Steve's motionless, but that doesn't mean there's nothing going on, under the tense thrum of muscle, like Steve's not quite sure if he's going to try and break Danny's grip or not. Blue eyes stuck on Danny's face, and there's something in them that reminds Danny of someone clinging to a window ledge, knowing they're going to have to let go any second -- the desolation and resignation. Some twisted idea of duty that has Steve so tangled up in himself that he can't even move.
Making Danny's fingers tighten, but not to hold, this time. Not because Steve is still not listening, but because Steve looks like he needs that, someone to pull him back up. "You can't what?"
When it's still gruff, but almost gentle, because he needs to know, okay. He needs to know what it is, so he can fix it, and Steve can drop this whole we shouldn't do this idea.