They dance, pure and simple.
A dance which is reminiscent of Brazilian capoeira ; acrobatic and sinuous with dips and feints, moves and counter moves.
Danny moves this way, Steve moves that way, never touching, or at least, never really touching, but never outside each other's personal sphere, either. It's like they are two magnets, one minute the opposing poles pulling them close, the next minute the like poles pushing them apart.
Sure, there are accidental bumps and flicks and brushes and even grasps - as in being hauled back by the straps of a tactical vest, or hanging on to the wrist of a partner dangling off the side of a cliff or a building - but nothing in the sense of purposeful touching.
Nothing close to resembling the gentle stroke along a stubbled jawline, a thumb smoothing out a worried and tired brow. No fingers that slowly drift and twirl through curls on a broad chest; no hands that slide along muscular, heaving flanks; no lips that catch and still an ecstatic gasp coming from curved, trembling lips.
Instead, they dance, their movements and near-hits creating an atmosphere of static electricity, an aura of spiked vibes which seemingly becomes a living entity of its own and pushes and pulls at them, leaving them breathless.
After weeks, months, years of having danced like this, it's pulling them apart at the seams, making them weary, grating on their nerves. They're exhausted.
So one day, one night, they stop dancing.
"Thanks for dropping me off."
Tired, barely able to take the step towards the door, trembling hand lifting the key to slide it home into a lock which doesn't unlock his real home, doesn't open the door to the place he really wants to be.
"Danno ..."
The whisper stays his hand, freezes his breath, speeds up his heart.
A sudden warm hand on his back, long fingers splayed out and moving, curving around his side, slowly pivoting him around to stare into a face mirroring his own exhaustion. Blinking, he sees the question in the darkening, blue-green eyes, feels the words on the soft lips gently touching his before they escape the mouth and his ears catch them.
"Come home with me?"
Home. With Steve.
Yes!
They dance.
A slow dance, merging bodies, hearts, desires, souls.
Oh, how they dance!