Steve laid back against his seat, as Gracie seemed to meld into him. Just being there, listening to the even in and out of her breathing, was more relaxing and centring than anything they had come up with at the hospital. Even Vincent looked up at him, as if to question whether his own job was usurped, but settled back down when Steve apologized silently with his eyes.
"Got'it. No ice on the brain," he said, his speech a little slurred, as he relaxed properly for the first time in days. His eyes had fluttered closed at some point, but Steve opened them at the feeling of Gracie's hand in his own. Her's seemed so small now, delicate in a way that he had never noticed before.
"You still gonna paint my nails, like you used to?" he asked, smiling.