Chapter Text
Eyes closed, Danny wills himself to breathe. Just breathe. A screeching control panel blares. The pilot screams that he's got this. Danny's not so sure. At least in the dark, Steve can't see his tears.
Memories assault him in flashes like this. Certain sounds and smells take him back.
It's been five years. He still can't watch a movie like this one without feeling the rush. His chest tightens. His reflux kicks up. And his eyes water.
Steve doesn't know. Danny won't tell him. He's sure Steve has his own nightmares.
Danny grips the armrest and bites the inside of his bottom lip. He opens his eyes and takes a sip of his drink to see where Steve is looking. His next breath cuts off when he realizes Steve is watching him.
Steve covers Danny's cold hand with his warm one. He interlaces their fingers and squeezes. The movie is reflected in his eyes. Danny thinks Steve might be crying too. He squeezes back. Steve lifts his chin toward the door. An implicit message. Danny nods. He can't take much more of the movie.
Steve lets go and grabs his drink and the popcorn they're sharing. He rises and exits the row. Danny follows. They leave the theater. The sudden hush of the hallway discombobulates Danny. His head feels like a wet cotton ball. He leans on Steve because he just knows the wall is sticky.
“I'm sorry,” Steve says.
“For what?” Danny answers. He doesn't mean for his whisper to sound harsh.
“I get it.”
“You get it?”
“The plane.”
Steve doesn't say crash. He doesn't need to. He never says anything about what happened. After he'd declared their debt was settled, he clammed up. It's fine with Danny. Thinking about their undercover op gives him indigestion, if he's lucky. If he's not lucky, he'll spend precious time in his room in the dark warding off a migraine or panic attack. That monumental, terrifying episode in their lives has been reduced to a joke about him not getting any cards. He didn't give a shit about cards or flowers or balloons.
“Danny?”
Steve nudges him and holds onto him at the same time. Danny can only nod, and he lets Steve steer them out of the theater.
The evening is hot. Danny needs the AC. Steve knows this. He pushes Danny into the Camaro and fires it up before Danny even makes a failed protest about Steve being rough with his car. The air is stale at first. Then a glorious stream of cold punches him in the face and he takes a deep breath. He shivers. His hand strikes Steve's when he moves to mess with the temp.
“No. This is good, babe. Thank you.”
Steve grunts and maneuvers through the parking garage. He stays on his side of the car. Danny wishes he wouldn’t. He needs to be touched, but he won’t reach out himself. When he closes his eyes, he’s in the cockpit again. Floating in that in-between space. Crashed, not crashed. Just hanging there listening to the alarms and watching Steve die. Damn movie. He’d agreed to see it because he wanted to test himself. And because Steve had been so excited about the film.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” Steve says.
Danny giggles.
Steve turns and asks, “What?”
“Watch the road,” Danny replies. He swats Steve on the arm.
Steve puts his hands at 10 and 2 with an exaggerated flourish. He gives Danny a sideways glare as he keeps one eye on the road.
“What’s so funny?” Steve asks.
“I already live with you,” Danny says. The words feel flat, and he frowns. He doesn’t add more to the mood that’s settling over them. Instead, he muddles over what Steve means. You’re staying with me tonight. They already live in the same house. Alone. Unless you count Eddie. Steve has his room, and Danny has his room. No more couch since Junior lives with Tani.
Wait.
Turning in his seat, Danny finds he can’t speak. His mouth hangs open. He freezes.
Steve smirks and says, “You finally catch up?”
Danny can’t help himself. He wants to punch Steve in the face, but sits on his hands instead and says, “Some of us don’t move at ninja speed, Steven.”
“Not even sure what that means, Daniel,” Steve replies. He brakes a little hard at the next light.
After bracing himself, Danny waves his hands. He can’t look at Steve. He knows his best friend is revving him up on purpose. He can’t help but babble. “You know, ninja stuff, like leaping without a net. From a tall building.”
“That sounds like a meme.”
Danny shrugs and says, “It probably is.”
“Then stop,” Steve orders. He smacks Danny’s leg.
Danny looks at his thigh. Steve’s fingers are inches away. He wants to grab Steve’s hand and put it back. This is ridiculous. He feels like a damn teenager. He stretches a little and regrets wearing the pants he did. They’re a little snug for this situation. Steve cuts someone off and jerks the Camaro into another lane. Danny’s brain jumps back into the conversation.
“Stop what?” Danny asks.
Steve gives the back of his hand to a pissed off driver and answers Danny, “Stop thinking too much.”
“Let me get this straight, babe, you’ve invited me into your bed.”
“If you want,” Steve replies. He puts his hand back on Danny’s thigh and adds, “I get it if you don’t.”
Danny hears the unfinished thought in his head. If you don’t want me. He hates it that Steve still has so much doubt deep down. He’s still that boy that everyone left.
“Steven, look at me.”
“I’m driving, Daniel.”
Steve squeezes Danny’s leg. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but there’s something about how he follows the curve of Danny’s thigh, stopping just before – Danny takes a slow breath. Both enjoying the sensation and shutting it down. He’s not over the movie and the plane crashing and the alarms blaring. But here they are – taking one hell of a leap. He feels both solid and liquid like he’ll slide down into the footwell and out onto the road. Their bickering is an anchor, giving him something familiar to hold on to, but this new thing between them might just be the end of him.
Danny sighs, “You’re exasperating. Just get us home safely, please.”
Steve smiles and puts both hands on the wheel again. Danny knows the look he sees blossom on Steve’s face. He feels it in his toes. It’s confidence. Happiness. The cocky swagger that drives him insane. He wants more of it, all over him, under him.
Thank God they’re almost home.