Steve had been decompressing from his time in Morocco by avoiding all of the messy, gross emotions that seeing his mother again after years had roiled up and throwing himself into exercise and cleaning instead. The fridge had been reorganized and so had the closets. Windows had been grouted, the furniture on the lanai had been hosed down, and Steve had chosen to take a long, cold swim before coming home immediately after his shift at the station because he still had energy buzzing under his skin.

Avoiding Danny was stupid, though, so he finally headed back to their apartment. He hadn't brought food with him: Danny had worked through his own stress while Steve had been gone by restocking the freezer with more matzo ball soup and spaghetti sauce than the two of them could eat in a year.

"Danno?" he called as he came in.