Chapter Text
There were many things about himself that Steve prided himself on. He could hit a moving target several hundred yards away. He could tread water longer than any test ever needed him to tread water for. He could play several songs on the guitar. He could tell you the first and last name of every kid in his graduating class from the Academy.
He was a pitiful drunk.
He never knew where the line was either. Sometimes he was such a lightweight and sometimes he could go all night. Being drunk always snuck up on him, like one second he was fine and the next he was plowed by a steamroller and laughing about it. Six beers? Seven shots? Four glasses of wine? He never knew where the line was for him, (unless it was Jager, and then if it was Jager, he could never remember how much he had the next day anyway,) and that was impressive considering he spent his entire legal-drinking life in the Navy among sailors who all seemed to know where their lines were. Intimately. It always snuck up on Steve and Steve never lived it down.
Freddie decided to make it an experiment on particular leave to find exactly what Steve needed to drink in order to be drunk, but Steve really can’t count those two weeks of drinking because he couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t pleasantly drunk anyway so all experimentation had to go out the window.
(That hangover was spectacular. If ‘spectacular’ was a word that meant ‘excruciating, embarrassing, with a new appreciation for people that don’t comment when you wear sunglasses indoors, and existing in an air of ‘kill me now dear god and while you’re at it make birds go extinct because they are too loud.’)
Sometimes Steve could have a whole pack of beers by himself and be fine. Other times all it would take was a glass of wine. He never quite knew what it would take to get him feeling good.
He did, however, pride himself on his stealth abilities. He was like a cat. Even while completely hammered, he could walk across a field with bells tied to yarn and not make a single one of them go off. He knew this because this is actually something he has attempted. He knew how to be quiet and he knew how to avoid obstacles and he knew sometimes your best offence is to not walk through a field of bells while completely sloshed.
Danny, however, Danny was a bull in a china shop. Who liked hearing things shatter. And then wanted to see if maybe he could get the pieces to vibrate if he turned the volume on the subwoofer up loud enough.
“You’re going to wake everyone up!” Steve whispered quickly. “Shh!”
Danny giggled as he ran into another door frame.
“You’re going to be covered in bruises!” Steve couldn’t help but giggle back, his face was tight with delight and red with too much to drink.
Danny hummed, smiling wide, “You can just kiss them and make them better.”
“Sap,” Steve said instantly.
Danny giggled again and it turned into full out laughter and Steve grabbed his face to kiss him quiet before one of the kids woke up and “Shh.”
“No one is home, Steve,” Danny giggled again, talking louder. “It’s just us and the taxi driver,” He pointed back towards the front of the house. “But he’s gone-oh. We left the door open.”
Steve laughed, but not because he forgot that all the kids were someplace else for the evening, and not because Danny’s wild hand movements towards the front door, but at the image that the taxi driver walked them to the door. Full service indeed. His laughter turned to a giggle, wondering what Danny would think about where his mind went.
“It’s a good thing the kids aren’t here,” Danny giggled while he went through the motions of shutting the door, falling around over his feet. Steve wondered briefly where his cane was. He was supposed to walk with it for another month, but here he was walking around like he didn’t feel the pain in his leg.
He would in the morning.
He’d tell Steve all about it in the morning. Complain loudly, and often and
And then Steve would get to kiss him better while Danny complained underneath him and oh, how delicious the morning was already tasting and they hadn’t even gotten through the night yet. Steve licked his lips, his eyes stuck on Danny’s pants button. It was so far away or maybe it was really close and in Steve’s hands already open but then
“Wow, we don’t need to have sex right now,” Danny said. “We are very drunk.”
“Yeah, but we’re both drunk,” Steve said, kissing him.
“We’re not having sex,” Danny said seriously. Then he pointed at him, “We have… to have... to conversation while not inebriated.”
Steve laughed at the sentence, but followed along. Too drunk; no sex. That was easy enough to follow. He leaned forward and kissed him again, because why not?
“I’m seriously, Steve,” Danny said against his mouth, pulling at Steve's shirt, slipping his tongue past his lips. “We’re not… sex.”
“‘Kay,” Steve said simply, running his hand down Danny’s back simply because he could. He groaned, “‘You’re seriously?’”
“Yes. I’m very seriously.”
Steve lost it again as he sat down on the bed. “Don’t you mean ‘I’m serious?’”
“That’s what I said!” He pointed at Steve again, “I’m seriously about this.”
Steve laughed again, “You said it wrong again!”
Danny stopped, visibly thinking over his words carefully. Then he rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”
Steve could only laugh, “You’re cute.”
“‘Cute?’” Danny asked, outraged.
Steve nodded, pulling on his legs until he was sitting criss cross on the bed, smiling up at Danny.
“No!” Then he pointed to Steve, seriously, and Steve laughed again. “I’m manly as hell!”
Steve couldn’t respond because Danny had grabbed him by the ears and into a pretty spectacular kiss.
(If ‘spectacular’ was a word that meant ‘breathtaking, toe-curling, ‘why the hell did we think getting this drunk on a night when the kids aren’t home was a good idea,’ and “We can still make out right?” “Yeah, we can still make out.” “Seriously?” "Shut up and kiss me." "Sir, yes sir.")