Steve doesn't answer, but he doesn't pull away, either. He just stands there, listing slightly into the hand at his neck, the one wrapping around his wrist, watching Danny like a kid staring at a movie screen hoping for a happy ending to the movie, and it slides a quiet knife into the pat of melting butter that his heart has become.
But if Steve doesn't argue, he doesn't seem to get it, either, that Danny's not going to go anywhere unless he's pushed, and even then, he'd push right the hell back, because this is too good, it's the only good thing he's got right now, aside from the job and Grace, and the job is exhausting and damaging, and Grace is already gone for another eleven days. It's not like Steve is wrong. He knows that. They've been over it before, know that this is crazy, that there are rules, that they should be following those rules, but they're not. Steve said he just wants him. He hasn't said anything about wanting the rules.
The hand at Steve's neck tightens, and Danny tugs, gently, but consistently, because Steve is tall and too far away, looming even when it's only inches to spare, and Steve has a thick head, but he's trying to do the right thing, and Danny can get that, even if Steve has it all wrong.
He can't lose Steve, too.
"Come here."
Pulling at him. Lifting his own face to bump his forehead gently against Steve's, eyes closing, trying to sort it all out. All of this. The things exploding in sudden painful spangles in his chest, swelling and fading into a compressing ache.
"Just -- don't, okay? You don't need to do that. Don't leave, alright." He's breathing deep, the world curling in around him, Steve, right now, this precipice he's tottering on. "Please."
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But if Steve doesn't argue, he doesn't seem to get it, either, that Danny's not going to go anywhere unless he's pushed, and even then, he'd push right the hell back, because this is too good, it's the only good thing he's got right now, aside from the job and Grace, and the job is exhausting and damaging, and Grace is already gone for another eleven days. It's not like Steve is wrong. He knows that. They've been over it before, know that this is crazy, that there are rules, that they should be following those rules, but they're not. Steve said he just wants him. He hasn't said anything about wanting the rules.
The hand at Steve's neck tightens, and Danny tugs, gently, but consistently, because Steve is tall and too far away, looming even when it's only inches to spare, and Steve has a thick head, but he's trying to do the right thing, and Danny can get that, even if Steve has it all wrong.
He can't lose Steve, too.
"Come here."
Pulling at him. Lifting his own face to bump his forehead gently against Steve's, eyes closing, trying to sort it all out. All of this. The things exploding in sudden painful spangles in his chest, swelling and fading into a compressing ache.
"Just -- don't, okay? You don't need to do that. Don't leave, alright." He's breathing deep, the world curling in around him, Steve, right now, this precipice he's tottering on. "Please."