After a final swell of dramatic music, the credits began rolling. Without the light of the TV screen, Steve's living room felt much darker: he'd insisted on turning all the lights off at the start of the movie, and night had long since fallen.

Danny yawned as he stood to turn on some lights. He flicked on a lamp before he thought to wonder why Steve was being so quiet. Steve was one of those shmucks who thought it perfectly acceptable to supply commentary while a movie was playing. Steve had been quiet for more than half an hour, which had to be a record. Danny turned on his heel and squinted at the still body on the couch.

Steve was asleep.

Danny crept back to the sofa, hovering over his partner. Steve's neck was curved awkwardly to make contact with the back of the couch, and his mouth was hanging half-open. He'd pulled one leg onto the sofa, as if trying to curl up. He was kinda . . . adorable.

Danny briefly considered waking Steve up, then decided against it. They'd had a long work week, and Steve deserved his sleep. Danny should just slip out and head home.

But he found himself reluctant to leave. He just wanted to make sure Steve was comfortable, that was all. If he slept like that for the whole night, he'd wake up with an awful crick in his neck. But how to reposition Steve without waking him?

Stumped, Danny sat down on the sofa again. He hadn't noticed before how close they'd been sitting. The thought sent a rush of warmth through him. He must have been sleepy himself, because an image appeared in his mind: waking up in the soft sunlight, with Steve's arms wrapped around him.

Danny shook his head. What was wrong with him? Steve was his friend – his best friend – and that was all. He didn't want anything more. Danny sighed and shifted on the couch. He'd just adjust Steve's head and be on his merry way.

He gently slid his hands onto either side of Steve's neck. His skin radiated warmth and shot sparks into Danny's palms. He began to move Steve's neck and realized his head was heavier than Danny had thought it would be. On second thought, maybe that wasn't so surprising; Steven's skull was rather dense.

Danny had moved Steve approximately three-quarters of an inch before his partner's eyes flew open. Oh shit.

"Danny?" Steve whispered, bleary-eyed. Danny was fully expecting him to start complaining about being woken, but several seconds passed with only silence.

Steve was still looking at him, though his eyes were barely open. He gave a little sigh, then fell forward into Danny. Before he could move away, Steve was kissing him, slowly, tenderly, as though he'd done so hundreds of times before.

Danny jerked back in surprise, eyes wide and face hot. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Steve frowned, and understanding slowly bloomed across his face. "This isn't a dream, is it," he mumbled, his eyes flitting to the wall behind Danny's head. His cheeks turned an endearing shade of pink. Danny remembered he was still holding Steve's neck and hastily dropped his hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, still not looking at him. "I, um, I wasn't thinking clearly. I thought you were someone else."

"You said my name," Danny argued, feeling the insane urge to smile.

"I –" Steve gulped, clearly fishing for a believable lie.

Danny put his hand on Steve's thigh and the SEAL froze, finally looking at Danny. The detective decided to put him out of his misery.

He kissed Steve and heat blossomed in his chest, trickled down to this stomach. After a stunned heartbeat, Steve enthusiastically kissed him back. Danny placed his other hand on Steve's chest, felt his heart galloping.

Suddenly Steve pulled away, and Danny ran his tongue over his lips. "Is this real?" Steve asked. He looked so unsure and vulnerable, and Danny had a flash of insight. He loves me.

Danny finally smiled. "I can pinch you, if you wanna be sure."

Steve's eyes fell to Danny's mouth. "How 'bout a kiss instead?"

How could Danny say no?