Work Text:
Whoever came up with the adage, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Danny thinks, must have had control issues. It isn’t fair, that in his car, which Steve spends most of the time driving, Danny can’t even control what’s on the radio. Steve doesn’t let him, casting him that smug grin and manipulating the radio controls from buttons on the wheel. Damn Camaro and its stupid high-tech features.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he would just pick a good station. The car has satellite radio, but nooooo, Steve much prefers flipping between a couple FM stations, sometimes leaving them there during radio commercials. Why would anyone willingly listen to radio commercials? Danny’s hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and change the station, but he resists the impulse. It’s this game he and Steve play sometimes—see how long Danny can go without bitching at Steve. Or at least, it’s a game Danny likes to imagine they’re playing.
Steve turns the volume up as a new song comes on.
Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live
Oh, take, take, take it all but you never give
“What is this? Is this R&B?” Danny asks. It’s not bitching if it’s a legitimate question.
“Shhh, I like this song,” Steve says, drumming his hands on the wheel along to the beat.
“I get that, hence the volume change. But why.”
Steve shrugs. “I dunno. Makes me think of you, I guess,” he says, just as the chorus starts playing over the Camaro’s speakers.
I'd catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I'd jump in front of a train for ya
You know I'd do anything for ya
Much to Danny’s horror, Steve begins singing along halfway through.
“Whoa, babe, wait a second. Are you serious? Are you, like, actually meaning this shit? Because catching a grenade? That’s not romantic, that’s suicidal. And if you ever jump in front of a train for me, I will personally beat your ass. I prefer you whole, thank you very much.” The Camaro’s interior is not nearly spacious enough for what Danny’s hands are trying to convey.
Steve’s got the wounded lost-puppy expression out, that confused why-can’t-I-kick-down-doors-or-ride-motorcycles-up-stairs face. And oh god, Danny hopes he hasn’t actually offended Steve, because that might be bad, but come on.
“Are you—really? With the song?”
“Well…yeah,” Steve says. Trust Steve to find a song that would convey his poorly articulated mental state better than he could.
“And is that…that’s why you’re always throwing yourself headlong into dangerous situations, because it’s how you express your feelings for people?”
Steve’s wounded face says it all.
“Oh my god, how do you function in society?” Danny is incredulous, voice going into higher decibels as he gains momentum. “Normal people, and by that I mean almost everyone else in a relationship, do not express their affection by catching grenades. They do nice things for each other, they make breakfast in bed, or maybe cook dinner, they say stuff like ‘I love you, you goof’…how is that so difficult for you?”
“You love me?”
“That’s not what we’re talking about! We’re talking about your inability to communicate!” Danny’s hands punctuate the air between him and the dashboard, making jabbing motions towards the car’s speakers.
“This is how I communicate, Danny,” Steve says, and damn it, the crazy bastard is serious. The chorus of the song comes around again, and Steve shoots him a quick, almost bashful grin before singing along;
“I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby
But you won't do the same”
“That’s because I value my life!” Danny cries. He is not prepared to deal with this, has no frame of reference to compare this to. He pinches a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.
Steve pouts, honest to god pouts, and Danny feels like a heel.
“Sorry, I’m being an asshole,” Danny mutters.
Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the song continues to play.
“I’m not—” Steve begins, then pauses. “I wouldn’t do anything needlessly risky to prove my feelings. But…you have to understand, if someone I care about is in danger…I mean it, I’d do any of that stuff. Wouldn’t you? For Grace?”
And of course, Steve knows the answer to that, knows that Danny would do anything to keep Grace safe. Steve doesn’t add for me? but Danny can hear it in his tone, the words hanging in the air between them.
“Yeah…yeah, I would,” Danny says. And then, because it needs to be said, he adds, “You know what else? If it was you in danger, I’d go in without backup. I mean, I’d call for backup, of course…but I wouldn’t be able to wait for them to get there.”
The look Steve flashes at Danny is so genuine, so fond, that he can’t help but smile in return. Danny hasn’t categorized that face yet, because this is the first time he’s seen it, but I love you, too might be a good name for it.
“Anyway,” Danny says, “This song? Gotta say, I’m a little insulted. ‘Gave you all I had, and you tossed it in the trash’? Would I ever be that callous?”
Steve laughs. “You, callous? Never.”