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It's the only thing that Danny can think to do to make up for it.
“Sit still,” Danny snaps, irritated. Steve stops squirming instantly, and the sight would be hilarious if Danny wasn’t still so twisted up inside. Steve is perched on the edge of the counter in his master bathroom, shaving foam all over his face but for a few razor-width strips of skin peeking through. There’s some in one of his eyebrows, and Danny can’t help the tiny, hysterical bubble of laughter that breaks out of him as he swipes at it with his thumb.