Chapter Text
"No! Steve, no!" Danny shrieks as he collapses to the ground to get away from the tall goof.
And Steve, because he can't just leave it alone, follows suit and thrusts both hands under Danny's armpit and tickles without restraint.
“Nooo! STEVE!” Danny yells again, this time in between laughs, trying to hold onto Steve’s wrists in vain. “STOP!”
Danny twists and rolls onto his stomach, trying to get away from Steve’s unrelenting tickling. He rolls on his side then, unable to control the weird desperation of being tickled, and in the process, he hits the side table, a flimsy little thing they only bought yesterday. The vase on top of it disagrees with the movement and falls ungraciously over Danny’s head, bounces, and breaks into two clean halves as it hits the floor next to him.
“Wow,” Steve says with a grimace, that vase belonged to his maternal grandmother, and for over forty years, he had managed not to break it. However, on second thought and knowing Doris, this vase was probably bought at a side street vendor as part of her cover.
Not much of a loss in the end, he thinks bitterly.
“I guess you really are that ticklish,” Steve adds, not quite believing how much of a mess less than twenty seconds of tickling just caused. A third piece of the vase skittered all the way under the dinner table, and he can now see a fourth and a fifth piece; they’ll be finding bits of porcelain for weeks.
“You guess I’m that ticklish, Steven?! Really? You think—ow, fuck…” Danny trails off, bracing his head in pain. He’s confounded by the rivalling sensations running through his body, glee over their playfulness, and alarm over the accident, both very hard to reconcile at the moment, though pain wins in the end.
He curls further onto himself, trying to ride the wave, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Oh, Danny, I’m sorry,” Steve says, realising just now what he did. He tries to touch Danny’s forehead, where a good-sized bump is already forming, but Danny moves away, a tiny groan escaping his lips. “C’mon, buddy, let me see.”
“No. Leave me alone,” Danny huffs.
Steve clicks his tongue, remorseful of his actions. “Danno, I’m sorry, please let me help. I’m sorry.”
Danny turns back on his side, facing Steve. He does not look amused in the least, plus, he’s sweaty from the roughhousing and there’s some blood over his eyebrow.
“Ah, shit, you’ll need stitches for that,” says Steve, pointing at Danny’s forehead.
Danny frowns. “You maimed me. For you to say that I need stitches, means the bone is showing. If I die, you’ll have to call my kids and deliver the news, just so you know,” he complains, though there’s no real heat behind it.
Steve smiles, offering a hand to get Danny into a sitting position.
“C’mon, I’ll get you some ice, and if you behave I’ll take you to the hospital so an actual doctor can do the job.”
Danny huffs as he sits up, holding his head and dabbing his fingers in his own blood, looking briefly to the and doing it again.
“What you doing that for? It’s barely bleeding, c’mon, Danno, let me clean you up, maybe some Steri-Strips will do the trick.”
Danny glares from the floor, holding out his hand to be lifted onto his feet now. “Yeah, thanks, I’ll be the judge of that.”
As they both get to their feet, Steve hugs Danny to his side, pressing his forehead to Danny’s temple, on the other side of the bump.
“I’m sorry I maimed you,” Steve whispers to Danny’s ear.
Danny turns his face and drops a quick kiss on Steve’s lips. “I know.”