"It's a scratch," Danny says soothingly.
"It's a scratch," Steve growls. "Who would do that to a classic car?"
Steve clearly needs someone to punch, but the street's depressingly full of innocent bystanders.
"You can fix it."
"Remember how you were gonna drive us home and put some scratches on me? Wild sex, handcuffs, me riding your dick and howling for mercy?"
Steve smiles. "Yeah."
"Let's do it," Danny says firmly.
Not firmly enough. Steve insists on fixing the scratch first. It takes fucking hours.
Next time, Danny's gonna be more careful when he leans against the Marquis.
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