There's a bottle pressing against his side, light and insistent, cool glass and heavy liquid, and Steve's fingers, too. Blunt and warm, seeking out his shirt, contact. Him.
Which is maybe the sign that things are turning around, because Steve damn sure hadn't been reaching before, had been completely self-contained, blankly compassionate with no warmth behind it, and he'd stayed so firmly in his own space that even when Danny was gripping his arm it was like he was already gone.
Not this. Hand at his side. Fingers tipping Danny's head in a way that's turned familiar, after four weeks of starting to recognize it, the way Steve pushes, gentle traction, making Danny wet his lip instinctively just before soft lips find his. Soft, in a way that keeps surprising him that Steve can be; soft, gentle, even. Barely a breath of a kiss, that splits his ribcage wide open and exposes the raw interior to potential destruction, because it's so tentative. Like Steve doesn't know what his reaction will be. Like he's trying it again, for the first time.
A kiss that doesn't feel like an apology, but maybe it's backing down, maybe it's Steve agreeing, maybe it's Steve not leaving, and that makes Danny reach up, one hand lifting and the other sliding, to cup Steve's face between them and press forward, lips parting, warm and wet, because if Steve is going to kiss him instead of leaving him flat, then Danny's going to kiss him, and leave no room for doubt that this is worth it. That he couldn't leave Steve for a threat to a case he probably won't win anyway. That there is no losing this, as long as he can stand here and Steve lets him, allows touch and shouting and all of Danny arguments.
Feeling his heart falter back into something approximating a normal pace, from the panicked fluttering of earlier, muscles still twinging with the shaking remains of the instinct to fight, to bear down, to bull his way through, now focused into this, Steve's mouth and breath and the tiny hesitations of them both, the way Steve isn't pulling away, isn't pushing him back, isn't going anywhere, and Danny is so fucking relieved that it rushes in like pouring hot water into a mug, lapping around the walls of his stomach and making him feel almost dizzy with it.
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Which is maybe the sign that things are turning around, because Steve damn sure hadn't been reaching before, had been completely self-contained, blankly compassionate with no warmth behind it, and he'd stayed so firmly in his own space that even when Danny was gripping his arm it was like he was already gone.
Not this. Hand at his side. Fingers tipping Danny's head in a way that's turned familiar, after four weeks of starting to recognize it, the way Steve pushes, gentle traction, making Danny wet his lip instinctively just before soft lips find his. Soft, in a way that keeps surprising him that Steve can be; soft, gentle, even. Barely a breath of a kiss, that splits his ribcage wide open and exposes the raw interior to potential destruction, because it's so tentative. Like Steve doesn't know what his reaction will be. Like he's trying it again, for the first time.
A kiss that doesn't feel like an apology, but maybe it's backing down, maybe it's Steve agreeing, maybe it's Steve not leaving, and that makes Danny reach up, one hand lifting and the other sliding, to cup Steve's face between them and press forward, lips parting, warm and wet, because if Steve is going to kiss him instead of leaving him flat, then Danny's going to kiss him, and leave no room for doubt that this is worth it. That he couldn't leave Steve for a threat to a case he probably won't win anyway. That there is no losing this, as long as he can stand here and Steve lets him, allows touch and shouting and all of Danny arguments.
Feeling his heart falter back into something approximating a normal pace, from the panicked fluttering of earlier, muscles still twinging with the shaking remains of the instinct to fight, to bear down, to bull his way through, now focused into this, Steve's mouth and breath and the tiny hesitations of them both, the way Steve isn't pulling away, isn't pushing him back, isn't going anywhere, and Danny is so fucking relieved that it rushes in like pouring hot water into a mug, lapping around the walls of his stomach and making him feel almost dizzy with it.