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Chapter Text

Danny sat down on a plastic bucket, looking around at the interior of the restaurant. It was a crazy idea. The place was on the market because it had gone out of business three months ago. And it had been on the market this long because no one else wanted to take a chance on a location that had failed three times in six years.

Apparently it was possible for Chinatown to have too many Chinese restaurants to sustain.

But they'd all tried to horn in on the market that already existed. An Italian restaurant, a real, old-world one with great food, though, that might actually work. Especially one that looked like this. It was reminiscent of John's Pizzeria in Time's Square. Which was kitschy and full of tourists, yeah, but Hawaii was full of tourists, and if they could balance the tourist crowds who'd had their fill of island food with locals looking for something new or ex-patriated mainlanders looking to get a taste of home, then they might have something.

'They.' The one roadblock Danny kept coming back to, the missing link that was the real reason he hadn't snapped this place up yet, was that somewhere along the way—probably about ten seconds after Steve had said 'radiation poisoning'—Danny had stopped thinking of the restaurant as his, and started thinking of it as theirs.

He wasn't sure exactly how his retirement dream had shoehorned Steve in, or what that said about his sanity, but there was no escaping it. He'd sat here four times in the last two weeks, trying to picture this without Steve, and he hadn't been able to manage it.

He'd thought it was the job that made him reluctant to retire, and he wasn't entirely wrong. That sense of satisfaction of making people safe, of bring criminals down had been part of his life for so long he wasn't sure how he'd fare without it.

But he already knew how he'd fare without Steve, without that partnership, the feeling of working together, of knowing exactly what Steve was going to do and that he'd be there no matter what to make things work, however dire things got. If anyone could make their restaurant succeed through sheer force of will, could keep Danny from failing, it was Steve.

And if there was one thing on Earth, after his kids, that Danny didn't want to leave, it was Steve.

It wasn't getting shot at—that he could live without, just as he could having to roll out of bed some mornings, more to avoid the muscle strain of putting his feet down and standing up than from any sense of excitement. He could absolutely live without that.

But Steve...that was another story.

Danny's partner in Jersey, Chris, had been great. They'd been good friends, in each other's pockets 14 hours a day or more at times. And when Danny had left, they'd vowed to stay in touch.

They hadn't even spoken in over two years.

He'd like to think that Steve would never let it go that long. Suspected, in fact, that Steve would commandeer a satellite and track Danny down if he didn't hear from him for a week. But it still wouldn't be the same.

If Danny retired, Steve would have a new partner. He'd be out there without Danny to watch his back and attempt to keep him from doing the craziest of his crazy shit. And one way or another, the likelihood that Danny would lose him was high.

Very high.

So the only solution was for Steve to come with him. It was logical—neither of them was getting any younger, and Steve, however much he liked to ignore it, had very real medical reasons to at least consider the idea of backing off field work. At the very least.

This was a good option for them both. They could still work together, build something together, and without getting shot at.

Or at least shot at much, given how many times they'd been to Chinatown for crimes.

Maybe Danny should lead with that when he approached the idea with Steve. Maybe if he could use the excuse of being embedded in Chinatown to help lower the crime rate, Steve could be more accepting.

Or maybe Danny was fighting a battle that had been lost before he'd ever even met Steve.

Only one way to find out.

***

"I think you're a little bit crazy," Danny said, giving Tani a smile to show he was joking. Mostly. "But I'm glad you decided to come work with us."

"It's not like a better offer is knocking down my door," Tani said.

Danny looked around. "Well, you could wait for the eight-year-olds to show up here and harass you, but...."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, pushing up off the porch. Danny admired the ease with which she got to her feet. He'd taken a lot of Advil just to get moving this morning. "Careful, or I might change my mind."

"That's my cue," Danny said, taking a few steps backwards toward the car. "See you in the morning."

"See you," Tani said.

Danny got into the car and started it up, waving as he drove off. He saw the message light blinking on his phone, tapped the screen to see it was from Steve, and hit play.

"Hey, Danny." The stereo speakers of the car amplified the raspy quality to Steve's voice, how soft and scratchy it was from all the smoke he'd inhaled. His lungs probably hated him as much as Danny's liver—the part of it that was hanging out in Steve's body—did on a bad day.

Because for all his handicaps—not that Danny would ever call them that to Steve's face—Steve still got the job done. He still ran out into danger ahead of everyone and insisted on being the one to take on the craziest of the jobs they had to do. And he was still always right there when they needed him, even if he nearly gave Danny a heart attack in the process.

"I've got something for you," Steve said in the voicemail, pausing to clear his throat. "Meet me at the restaurant?"

Well if he was calling it the restaurant then maybe he'd changed his mind? Then again, he hadn't said 'our restaurant.' So maybe not.

It was crazy to want to start a restaurant with a guy that attracted danger like dogs attracted fleas anyway. But then again, it was crazy not to want to open a restaurant with a guy who was always there every single time Danny really needed him.

Like it or not, Danny was convinced it was a job for both of them. Now he just had to convince Steve.

***

"Man, where did you learn to use chopsticks?" Steve asked, looking mildly offended—not the easiest thing to do sitting on the floor of a dusty, empty restaurant, slouched against a pillar. The whole posture was too relaxed to be offended, but Steve was a freak of nature.

"I'm sorry," Danny said, around a bite of Kung Pao Chicken. "Is there some special Hawaiian way to eat with chopsticks that I have missed before now? Is there a reason you never mentioned that until today?"

Steve shook his head. "Just always wondered," he said, taking advantage of Danny's distraction to snatch a piece of chicken out of Danny's box.

"For your information," Danny said, "I learned at Mr. Chen's House of Asian Delight in Hoboken." At Steve's laugh, Danny rolled his eyes, snatching a piece of shrimp from Steve's box. "What?"

"Nothing," Steve said, holding up his hands, the gesture somehow more conciliatory with a Chinese food box in one and chopsticks in the other. "I'm just glad to know that it's not only Hawaiian culture you don't mind abusing."

Danny shook his head, but his mood was too good to be pulled too far into any argument that wasn't just their normal surface banter. "Once we get this place going," he said, waving chopsticks around the room, "we can eat real Italian instead. Every night."

"I've been doing that a lot anyway, the way you're always testing recipes on me," Steve said. He stood his chopsticks in his box and raised his shirt, patting his perfectly flat stomach. "And it shows."

Never let it be said Danny gave up an open invitation to freely study Steve's body. He let his eyes travel leisurely down Steve's chest to his abdomen, admiring the muscles even as he swallowed in automatic reaction to the large scar down the middle.

He'd come that close to losing Steve.

But he had no intention of getting that close again, not if he could help it. "Yeah," Danny said, clearing his throat, "I can see where you're going to have to start swimming three times as much. Maybe we should install a swimming pool in the basement of this place, just to make sure you don't lose your girlish figure."

Steve laughed as he shoveled some shrimp and rice into his mouth—and maybe his method of using chopsticks was better than Danny's. Not that Danny would ever admit it out loud. Steve might offer to teach him.

Which led to thoughts that Danny quickly pushed away for later. Much later. Like, never.

"It's going to be a lot of work," Steve said, not for the first time. "But I think we're up to the challenge."

The light in his eyes, sitting on the floor eating Chinese—the whole thing was familiar, but not with Steve and not in Hawaii. Danny couldn't help remembering a similar scene, the first night he and Rachel spent in their apartment in Weehawken. They hadn't even bought furniture yet, so they'd sat on the floor and shared boxes of Chinese food as they discussed their plans for decorating.

"Danny?"

Danny blinked at Steve. "Sorry, what?"

Steve licked his lips, taking a deep breath before he asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Danny said, ignoring the way Steve's voice had already made it clear he knew it was a lie before Danny said it. "Why?"

Another deep breath, then Steve relaxed again, shrugging with an attempt at bonelessness that didn't quite work. "Nothing," he said, also a lie. "Just...you looked miles away there for a few seconds."

Miles and years. But the past was the past, and if there was one thing Steve had going for him, he wasn't Rachel. He was honest, he was faithful, and he was never, ever going to leave Danny. At least not willingly.

As for the unwilling part, given everything they'd been through, he seemed to be fairly good at managing to avoid that so far, too. Radiation poisoning and any lingering side effects had nothing on Steve McGarrett's will of steel.

Danny would just keep reminding himself of that fact until it stuck.

***

Chapter Text

Steve hung up the phone with Jerry and headed for the truck, already dialing Danny's number. Steve motioned to Lou to get in the truck as the phone rang.

"Find something?" Danny answered as Steve started the truck.

"Yeah, a ditched van." Steve whipped the truck around and headed for the street. "But, we think we have a location on the drugs."

"Where?"

"We're gonna rendezvous with SWAT and go in together. Jerry will send you the coordinates. Lou and I gotta make a stop first."

Steve could picture the look on Danny's face just from the way Danny exhaled. "A stop?"

He could also tell Danny knew what Steve was going to do. "Yeah, a stop."

"Steven, do not tell me you're going to get that dog out of the hospital for a drug bust."

"Okay, I won't tell you. I'll see you at the rendezvous point."

Steve hung up, ignored the look he knew Lou was giving him, and stepped on the gas.

***

Danny was in full rant from the second Steve opened the truck door. "You do realize," Danny said, voice tight, even as he helped Steve get Eddie out of the truck, "that just because you consider it part of your recovery to get out of a hospital bed and immediately go chasing down criminals on the way home, that maybe, just maybe some people, and definitely dogs, like to take an hour or so to recover first, right?"

Steve grabbed the vest someone held out for Eddie, carefully strapping it around the dog. "The place is huge, Danny, and we need a dog. What do you want me to do?"

"I can think of quite a few things that would help that don't involve taking a dog that just had a bullet removed from it into a bust."

Steve finished with the vest and stood up, grabbing his own. "Look," Steve said, leaning in to Danny, voice low, "he deserves a chance to go after the son of a bitch who murdered his best friend."

He pulled back, eyes still on Danny. After a second, Danny nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah."

Steve put a hand on Danny's shoulder, because he got it. Putting Eddie in danger wasn't high on his list of things to do. But he knew Danny got why it was important, too. Probably more than anyone, on more than one level.

"Okay," Danny said. "Let's go do this."

Steve gave Danny's shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand.

***

Steve hopped out of the truck and headed straight for the grave. He could see Eddie lying beside the grave as he approached, the sight a relief as Steve reached the grave and sat down beside the dog. "It's okay," Steve said, even as he knew it wasn't. The dog had lost the person he relied upon, the one person he could count on to take care of him.

It was like being fifteen all over again, and opening the door to a cop with the news about his mother. The fact it had been a lie, that she hadn't actually been dead, had done nothing to diminish the memory of that crushing pain, of how it had felt like he wouldn't breathe again, and then it had felt like a betrayal of her memory when he did.

He'd have probably slept at her grave after the funeral, too, if he'd been given a choice.

Eddie needed someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who could help him come back from it and make sure he had not only a purpose, but a life.

But since Danny didn't need a dog, that person for Eddie would just have to be Steve.

Steve scratched Eddie's neck, mind made up. "Everything's gonna be okay, buddy."

***

Chapter Text

"It'll be great to see Harry again, yeah?" Steve said.

"Yeah," Danny said. "I just hope he's not bringing an entire terrorist cell with him or something."

Danny stared out the window, his mind on the shirt Kamekona had shown them. The name was ridiculous. 'Danno's' by itself could be okay, but 'McDanno's' only made it sound like an Irish Pub, even before you put 'Bar and Grill' after it. If Kamekona really knew anything about marketing, he'd know that would never work for an Italian restaurant.

And then there was the picture. Grace had made Danny watch Lady and the Tramp too many times to not see the reference there. And even though dogs were wonderful, Danny drew the line at being a stand in for one.

As for how that scene progressed in the movie, he was absolutely not thinking about that. At all.

"Earth to Danny."

"Hm?" Danny said, focusing his attention back on Steve, who had Worried Steve face on, the one that was giving him lines on his forehead that Steve adamantly refused to admit were there.

"I said, 'you okay?'"

"Fine," Danny said. "Why?"

Steve studied him for a long moment, his brow turning into a full on V before he finally shook his head. "Okay."

Danny knew that tone, and that wasn't agreement, that was a retreat. But as long as he stopped asking, Danny was fine with it.

Steve didn't need to know every random thought that went through Danny's mind.

***

Steve watched Danny the rest of the drive. He'd been acting strange since they got into the car, but his 'Okay,' had been anything but okay. There was nothing Steve could do but ask, though, and if Danny didn't want to answer, Steve couldn't exactly tie him up in the rendition room and demand answers.

Steering clear of that thought, Steve pulled off the main road onto the Hilton property. By the time he'd parked and they got out of the car, Danny seemed to have shaken off his mood enough that he was semi-normal, at least by Danny standards.

By the time they were on the beach, Danny was normal enough to be making jokes about Harry's shorts—though Steve didn't think they were all that short. Definitely not Magnum short, at any rate. Harry's hug for Danny was also not that short, or at least not short enough, leaving Danny soaking wet all down his front.

Steve moved to stop Harry before he could drench Steve as well, going for a handshake before asking what MI6 was up to so far from England. At the mention of the word retirement, Steve groaned inwardly. Just what Danny needed, someone showing up to make retirement look even more glamorous than being a spy looked.

Never mind that being a spy wasn't anywhere near as glamorous as it appeared, and Steve was betting retirement wasn't either.

Still, if Harry could retire from the life of a spy...maybe retirement wasn't that bad after all. Veronique certainly looked like a nice perk—Danny certainly seemed to think so, and out loud, a little louder, really, than appropriate.

Which was absolutely the only reason it was annoying.

Still, it would be nice to catch up with Harry, and maybe seeing him and Veronique happy would make Danny stop salivating over her.

***

Harry showing up at HQ was a surprise. Danny wasn't quite buying that retirement was anywhere near as bad as Harry thought, especially with such a lavish lifestyle, but then maybe the guy was as crazy as Steve and didn't have a low adrenaline bone in his body.

At least his timing was good, as were his skills, and they got a lot farther on their case a lot faster than they might've—whatever doubts Danny might've had at first.

By the time they were on their way to find Annie Hughes, Danny was glad for the help, even if Harry couldn't quite help his running commentary from the back seat.

"I've been in two fights," Harry said, "had a near-death experience, and ruined a four-thousand dollar suit, all before teatime."

Retirement was probably looking pretty good, but before Danny could say that, Steve said, "I apologize for all of that, but you did ask to tag along."

"No, no," Harry said, "I'm having a lovely time."

Seriously, this guy was the British McGarrett. "What do you mean, you're having a lovely time?" Danny asked. "What is the matter with you? I can't wait to retire, okay, and I don't care if it's running a restaurant, or spending time with my kids, anything but car chases and bullets whizzing past my head, anything that doesn't involve those things will be a giant improvement to my quality of life."

"Oh, my dear Danny," Harry's tone was a little patronizing, "I used to think the same thing, but you don't appreciate how much you need the buzz of the job until it's gone. Besides, you blokes don't have it so bad. Driving around from witness to witness, collecting evidence, getting into some fisticuffs, a little bit of argy-bargy along the way—it's all quite quaint, really."

Before Danny could ask, Steve said, "Argy-bargy?"

"You know, an argument." Harry had gone from patronizing to smug now. "The constant bickering you two engage in. Don't get me wrong, it's clearly coming from a place of love, that's why you're going into the restaurant trade together," he added. "Can't bear to be apart, right?"

It took Danny a moment to even process the comment, which was ridiculous. Of course he could bear to be apart from Steve. He spent days apart from Steve when he went back to Jersey. Okay, sure, they were texting or on the phone more than he was with Melissa, but Steve never missed a chance to bug the crap out of Danny, no matter where he was.

Danny stared straight ahead just a little too hard as he told himself if Steve thought anything different, well, that was his problem.

***

"Will you stop running into me?"

Danny's words, in a hiss he probably didn't mean for Harry and Veronique to hear in the next room, were still loud enough to carry, and Steve stepped back, holding his hands up in the air. "By all means," Steve said, voice dripping with exaggerated courtesy, "please, be my guest. I'll just get out of your way."

"Thank you," Danny said, as he moved between the refrigerator and stove with a practiced ease. Steve admired it, even as part of his brain was still focused on Harry's comments in the car earlier that day.

"It's clearly coming from a place of love, that's why you're going into the restaurant trade together. Can't bear to be apart, right?"

Obviously he loved Danny. They were as close as any two people could be—they shared a vital organ, for crying out loud. But they could absolutely bear to be apart. Steve had spent the better part of the last seven years waiting for Danny to say he was leaving Honolulu, and even when Danny had said he was staying, part of Steve had still braced for it anytime something as little as sand in Danny's shoes set him off.

Okay, so maybe he might have a slight case of separation anxiety where Danny was concerned.

But seriously, Danny went back to Jersey more often than he used to, and Steve didn't shrivel up and die. Granted, they talked all day long, between texts and phone calls, but they were still five thousand miles apart. That counted, didn't it?

Okay, so maybe Steve had Danny's return flight information memorized before he took off, but it was only because he had to make sure he'd remember to pick Danny up.

Of course, that didn't explain why Steve generally had Danny's entire itinerary memorized as well, and knew where he was pretty much the entire time he was gone.

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, Harry might have a point.

At least his point made that hug this morning a little less...something, despite the fact that Steve had noticed the slight water stains long after they'd dried all day long. Not that there was anything to it. Not at all. After all, Harry had Veronique. And Steve had Lynn, and Danny had Melissa. And that was that.

"Steven, are you deaf?"

Steve blinked, focusing on Danny, who'd clearly said something a few times, if his annoyed tone was an indicator. "Sorry, what?"

Danny's face shifted, something Steve couldn't quite figure out behind his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, taking a few steps forward. "What can I do to help?"

***

Danny watched the lights go by on the nearly deserted streets of Honolulu. He'd gotten used to the way the streets seemed to roll up this late in downtown, even liked the quiet when he let himself enjoy it. But tonight he wished there was a little more to distract him.

"It's clearly coming from a place of love, that's why you're going into the restaurant trade together. Can't bear to be apart, right?"

When he'd decided to drag Steve into this restaurant with him, he'd thought it was because he was going to miss their partnership, how they were so perfectly in sync out in the field, or in HQ, questioning a suspect, every move, every word like a choreographed dance without a hitch. But tonight they couldn't work in the same kitchen for three minutes without bumbling into each other like buffoons.

Instead of disappointment, though, he was excited—God help him— at the idea of learning to work together all over again in this new partnership where they still had to find their harmony, in more ways than one.

If the synchronicity wasn't there, though, why was he still so hell bent on Steve as a partner?

"It's clearly coming from a place of love...Can't bear to be apart, right?"

It was possible, maybe, if Danny squinted and tilted his head the right way, that Harry might have a point.

***

Chapter Text

For all that the temperature was supposedly in the fifties, Danny pulled his jacket more closely around himself as he headed for his rental car. The wind was biting cold, nothing like the warm winds he'd grown used to in Hawaii.

Which was a thought he was never, ever even going to think anywhere near Steve.

Danny found his Ford Focus and jumped in, turning it on and finding the heat and blasting it before he tuned the radio to 104.3, buckled up, and put the car in gear.

Driving to his parents' house from Newark airport was like breathing. If pressed, Danny could probably draw a map in his sleep. But for all the roads hadn't changed, they seemed slightly off, like someone had snuck in and redrawn them an inch to the left since he'd learned to drive on them.

Or maybe jetlag was just fucking with his eyesight.

The house he'd grown up in hadn't changed either. A little more worn in, maybe, but still more or less the same. He still knew where the mugs were to get some much needed coffee, after ditching his coat and distributing hugs to about ten of his family who were apparently there for a heretofore unheard of tradition of the Night Before the Christening party.

He also knew, from more recent experience, the optimal seat in the family room where he could look like he was involved while still being able to check his phone without anyone giving him shit about it. If anyone mentioned it, Danny had the perfect excuse—Grace. Which was true enough, since he talked to her on and off all day. But it was his ongoing text conversation with Steve since the airport in Honolulu that, as usual, was taking up the majority of his attention.

Not that he didn't miss Grace and Charlie—of course he did. He missed them all the time. Spent way too much time looking at pictures on his phone, particularly his wallpaper. It was his new favorite picture of the three of them, all smiling and happy on the beach, and sporting similar red noses that no amount of sunscreen on Danny's part seemed to be able to prevent.

But his own expression had been his focus today. Something in that look was familiar, and he hadn't been able to place it, and it was starting to get annoying.

"You know," Bridget said, from somewhere above Danny's head, "you could just call the kids."

Danny looked up at her. "They're at school."

"They'll be home soon and you can talk to them." She nudged his thigh with her knee. "Cheer up. This is supposed to be a happy time."

Yeah, happy. The exact opposite of the family gathering that still stuck in Danny's mind first and foremost—the one after Matt's funeral. But then the rest of the family been together more often since then. Matt's absence probably felt less like a hole and more like a fact to them. They were used to it, had had daily reminders that he wasn't there.

Danny hadn't really had that, tucked away in paradise, able to forget for weeks on end that Matt wasn't going to call or show up.

"Hey," Bridget said, her voice softer. "You okay?"

Danny glanced at his wallpaper, then up at her. "Yeah, I'm fine."

***

He wasn't fine. He'd learned how to excel at faking it, though, and only a few people could see through it when he did. A Skype call from Grace and Charlie helped his mood, though, and he was able to laugh and smile through dinner so that no one really noticed his mood.

Or almost no one. He could feel Bridget watching him, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he ignored it.

They moved back into the family room after dinner, alcohol replacing the coffee and tea from before. Danny nursed one beer, in between texting with Steve. The conversation had turned to ovens, and how if Steve thought Danny was going to be cooking in any substandard oven, then he had several other thinks coming.

Danny closed the text and looked at the wallpaper again, still trying to figure out what the deal was. He was happy, that much was obvious. Maybe it was just down to having two happy, healthy kids right there with him, more happiness than his pessimistic self usually managed. But he didn't think that was it—or at least not all of it.

A beer bottle blocked his view of the screen. Danny looked up, unsurprised to see Bridget holding the bottle out. "I've got one, thanks."

"No," she said, shaking the bottle. "It's empty."

"Why are you giving me an empty beer bottle?"

She shook her head, the exaggerated movement underscoring the fact that she'd had at least three so far. "We're out."

"Of beer?"

Her nod was just as exaggerated. "We need more."

"Okay...."

"You need to take me to the store."

Right. Because she would have noticed that he'd had almost none of his one beer. "Fine," he said, pushing out of the chair. "Come on."

***

The streets still seemed a little off, but Danny had no trouble finding the one supermarket nearby that he knew actually sold beer. Bridget was unusually silent, but Danny didn't think it was the alcohol, not from the way she was watching him.

Maybe the weird alignment of the streets was doing something to his face.

He dutifully carried most of the beer up to the register, focusing on not dropping the beer until the woman behind the register said, "Danny Williams?"

Danny blinked up. "Heather," he said, smiling as he recognized her. "Long time no see."

"Fifteenth class reunion," she said. "Heard you left town."

He nodded. "I thought you were working at Kramer's real estate place?"

"During the day, yeah. Two kids in college isn't cheap, though."

"Great," Danny said, "something to look forward to."

She finished ringing up the beer, and Danny paid, saying his goodbyes as he loaded the cases up into his arms again and headed for the car.

"So," Bridget said, as Danny pulled out of the parking lot, "Heather Macuso."

Danny turned left towards his parents' house, hoping he didn't hit any lights and could keep the inquisition short. "Yes."

"Didn't you have the hots for her all throughout tenth grade?"

Danny nodded. "Yes. Yes, I did, and thank you very much for not bringing that up while we were standing in front of her."

He glanced over at Bridget, who was watching him carefully, until he couldn't take it anymore. "What?" he said.

"Danny...who took the picture on your phone?"

The conversational whiplash took him a second to process. "Why?" he asked after a moment.

"Because if it wasn't important," she said slowly, "you would've told me who it was without questioning it." She took a breath before adding, "And because your face in that picture looks like every time you saw Heather Macuso sophomore year."

Oh.

Danny shifted in his seat, the seatbelt rubbing against the scar on his abdomen, the constant reminder that, but for the luck of the right blood type, he might have lost Steve forever. So, yeah, maybe he did look happier to see Steve when he remembered things like that. Maybe he was aware that they were lucky. Maybe that's all it was.

"Danny—"

"Bridget, just don't, okay?"

Maybe that really was all it was. And maybe he just didn't want to go into business alone and Steve was just the most likely person he could rope into a restaurant.

And maybe if he just kept thinking that way, everything would be fine.

***

Chapter Text

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Honolulu International Airport, where the local time is 7:38 pm. If you have your mobile phones handy, you may use them at this time, however, please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened until the captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. We'll be at the gate shortly. Mahalo."

Danny switched his phone out of airplane mode to find various texts from family and friends. He replied to Grace, and to Charlie via Grace, texted Bridget that he'd landed, and then looked at the three messages from Steve since Danny had switched the phone off at Newark.

9:18 am: Have a safe flight

12:21 pm: Got a new ladder for the restaurant

4:43 pm: Call if you wanna have dinner when you land

He did want to have dinner when he landed, but he just wasn't sure he was good company. Not that Steve minded when he wasn't good company. Sure, Steve bitched about it, but Danny knew he didn't really mean it. Besides, Danny also knew he only really sought Steve out so he'd tell Danny to snap out of whatever was bothering him.

It was impossible not to have at least a little self-awareness after seven years.

He'd go home and get cleaned up first, then text Steve and see if he'd eaten, and let fate decide if he was having dinner with Steve or alone.

The restaurant wasn't on the most direct route home, but Danny had discovered that, since investing in a business, he couldn't resist driving by if he was 'in the neighborhood' (and his definition of neighborhood had expanded drastically).

The streets of Chinatown were busy, thankfully—empty streets around dinnertime didn't bode well for the restaurant. Danny was half a block from the restaurant when he saw Steve's truck parked in a spot. Given that there was no crime scene, Steve must be at the restaurant.

"Guess that's fate's answer," Danny muttered as he took the next spot he found.

Danny could hear the sander running when he got to the door. He went inside, closing the door carefully behind him. Steve was at the bar, smoothing it again. Danny didn't think the bar could get any smoother, but Steve seemed to be fond of trying, usually when something was bothering him.

What Steve was going to do when they finally had to stain the bar and he couldn't sand it anymore Danny had no idea.

Eddie was curled up in a corner , but when he saw Danny he barked and came running. Steve looked up at the sound and spotted Danny. "Hey," Steve said with a smile, turning off the machine.

The sudden silence made the room seem smaller. Even the muted sounds from the street outside couldn't dampen the effect. "Hey," Danny said, crossing the room until he was a few feet away from Steve. "You know that wood will eventually disappear if you keep that up, right?"

Steve's laugh relaxed something inside Danny's chest. There was genuine warmth and amusement in his eyes. There was sadness, too, but not enough to worry about. "Then that would mean the wood isn't good enough for Steve's and we need better wood."

"Mm-hmm." Danny wasn't even going for that argument tonight.

"Did you come by to have dinner?"

Danny looked around. "I didn't realize the restaurant was open."

"Funny," Steve said, tapping him on the shoulder as he moved past. "You got my text?"

"I did." Danny watched as Steve took off the protective glasses on the way to the kitchen. "I haven't even been home yet, though. I just drove by here on the way and saw your truck."

Steve washed his hands and dried them, using the towel to dry his face and neck, too. "Couldn't stay away?"

"Nope. What about you?" Danny asked, even though he had a good idea. "What brings you here?"

Steve shrugged as he walked back into the main area. "I needed to get away."

"Yeah, I can imagine having a stranger suddenly living in your house would be an adjustment."

"You could say that, yeah." Steve leaned against the bar. "There's something...I don't know," he said finally. "The kid's going through something. I'm just hoping maybe being at my place will help him open up."

"Steve McGarrett, the world's foremost example at encasing emotions in cement and throwing them to the bottom of the ocean talks about opening up!" Danny laughed a little through the end of his own sentence. "Alert the media."

Steve rolled his eyes, but the sadness was retreating more as they joked around. "Yeah, well, maybe someone got me to realize that shutting up isn't always the healthiest thing."

The admission robbed Danny of words for a few seconds. "About time you realized that," he said finally, his voice tight.

"Yeah." Steve cleared his throat. "Now if I could just get him to realize that sometimes shutting up isn't a bad thing...."

Danny gave Steve his most unimpressed look. "Well I was going to offer to go next door for Chinese, but maybe I should just shut up instead."

"Not at all, partner," Steve said, deadpan. "Talk away. You know I love the sound of your voice."

Of course. Steve was all for Danny talking if he was buying—didn't matter if it was food or alcohol. "The usual?" Danny asked. At Steve's nod, Danny headed for the door.

***

While Danny was gone, Steve cleaned up their usual dinner spot on the floor so they could eat without sawdust getting into the food. When he'd texted Danny about going to dinner, he'd thought maybe Side Street, where there'd be more distraction from thoughts about the last few days.

But this was better. Danny was always a good distraction, and an even better buffer against between whatever shit was going on in Steve's head, something that Steve tried not to look at too closely. He had a somewhat thin definition of family from his experiences growing up; apparently this was what it was like when you had a more normal one.

Not that being friends or family with Steve didn't come with hazards, a fact that had been driven home hard the last few days.

Danny breezed back in, bags from the restaurant next door in his arms. "I think Mr. Li next door is starting to worry about us as competition," he said, putting the bags on the floor and dropping down next to them. "The whole time I was over there he was telling me he hoped I owned my house, in case the restaurant went bust."

Steve grabbed a couple of waters from the fridge and sat down a few feet from Danny. "What did you tell him?" Steve asked, as he pulled his food out of the bag.

"That I didn't, but if we went bust, I'd just move in with you, since it would be your fault."

The idea of Danny living at the house gave Steve a feeling in his stomach he was in no shape to deal with right now. "I still have one spare room left," Steve said. "But then you prefer the couch, don't you?"

Danny shrugged as he dug into his pork. "I've kind of gotten used to the ocean."

For Danny, that was some kind of admission. "Really?" Steve asked, around a bite of shrimp. "Have you become at one with the sand, now, too?"

"No way." Danny took a long drink, and Steve looked away from the way Danny's neck worked as he swallowed. "Some things will never be okay."

Considering Steve shared the frustration with sand occasionally, and the ocean was far more important anyway, he'd take the win.

They ate while Danny filled Steve in on everything from his trip he hadn't already heard, and a few things he had. "How's Bridget?" Steve asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Annoying," he said.

"Bridget? That's impossible."

He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, you spend two days with her watching you like a hawk, trying to psychoanalyze everything you do."

Steve tilted his head, studying Danny. "So what'd she figure out that you don't want to own up to?"

"Nothing," Danny said, so quickly that it was obviously a lie, even before the flush creeped up his neck to his face. "Absolutely nothing."

Steve took a drink of water and wondered if maybe he should give Bridget a call.

***

"Okay," Danny said, stuffing his empty box into the paper bag and wiping his mouth and hands on a napkin. "What can we do around here before we go home?"

Steve helped pick up the trash and put it in the trash can. "Are you sure you want to do anything tonight?" he asked. "Aren't you tired?"

Danny shook his head. "I'm fine. Unless you want to go to bed."

Steve pushed aside the images his brain tried to give him at that statement. He'd been ignoring those thoughts quite well since Harry had put them there in the first place with his little comment. "No." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm not—I mean, I haven't been sleeping all that well."

He felt the force of that Detective Williams stare that any halfway intelligent perp knew to fear. "Why?"

"I just...." Danny was still staring, and Steve knew he wasn't going to get out of this without at least some of the truth. "I try to fall asleep," Steve said slowly, "and I see Toast's face, just before Nolani covered him up with a sheet."

"You know," Danny said, the words just as deliberate, "if I hadn't kept him out of jail all those years ago—"

"Then he might've been dead in prison, or worse," Steve interrupted. "But if I hadn't brought Aaron Wright down on us by the whole thing with Wo Fat—"

"Then Ian Wright would've likely killed Lou's daughter," Danny said.

Steve took a long breath, letting it out slowly. "I guess we don't have a time machine," he said softly, "do we?"

"No, we do not." Danny dusted his hands off. "Which means we can't go back in time and start this work earlier." He pulled a ladder over to the pillar, where he'd been working on removing the horrible 1980s style wallpaper the old owners had seemed to think should go around the top of each pillar.

"Be careful with that ladder," Steve said.

Danny looked over his shoulder. "Please, Steven," he said, hands on both sides of the ladder, one foot on the first rung. "I know how to use a ladder."

***

Steve stood in the corner of the examination cubicle in the ER, watching carefully as the nurse fitted Danny with a brace that covered the majority of his arm. Danny's hisses were accompanied by looks at Steve that made him feel even guiltier for the lack of anger in them.

Of course, some of that was probably down to the drugs that they'd given Danny for the pain before the x-rays, so there was still time for Danny to lay into him when it wore off.

Danny's forearm had been in at a really awkward angle from his elbow when Steve had helped him up from the floor. Any attempt to touch it had been met with a yell, followed by curses about the cheap ladder Steve had bought.

Never mind that it had been one of the nicer ones the store had—if it made Danny feel better to complain about that, who was Steve to stop him? What he should have stopped was Danny from climbing it in the first place, knowing he was fresh off a plane and had likely been up on very little sleep for around 20 hours.

Dr. Rask came back in as the nurse was adjusting the last strap on the brace. "So, doc," Danny said, and wow, he sounded high as a kite, "did this guy's ladder break my arm in five places?" he finished, nodding at Steve.

"I think it was your fall off the ladder that did that," Steve said.

"It's not broken in five places," Rask said, sliding the x-ray into a light panel and switching it on. "You suffered a dislocated elbow and a non-displaced fracture of your ulna." He pointed at the thin line on the x-ray, about two inches from Danny's wrist. "It was a clean break, and with the brace we've put you in, it should heal nicely, provided you actually wear it."

Rask gave Steve a look that he interpreted as an order to make sure Danny did as he was told. As if Danny was the rulebreaker in this relationship. "Can he take it off at all?" Steve asked.

"To shower and change clothes, and to clean it occasionally—though," the doctor added, looking at Danny, "you'll need to be very careful when it's off. The last thing you want with a non-displaced fracture is for it to become displaced, and your elbow is going to have a tendency to want to slide out of joint again for a bit. I'd recommend help doing much of anything with it the first couple of days."

The doctor picked up Danny's chart and signed it. "You're free to head home," he said, "with the instructions the nurse gave you." The doctor nodded at the papers lying on the bed beside Danny, and Steve picked them up quickly. "Please see that you follow them."

It was like he'd heard about Five-0. "Thanks, doc," Steve said. "I'll make sure he does."

The look on Rask's face said he'd definitely heard of Five-0, or at least Steve, but he just nodded as he left.

"Come on," Steve said, hand on Danny's good arm. "Let's get you home."

He led Danny out to the Camaro, helped him into the passenger seat and buckled him in before running around to the driver's side. He hoped that Junior had managed to get to Chinatown and get his truck back quickly. Leaving the truck parked outside while he was inside was one thing, but he wasn't keen on the idea of leaving it there overnight unattended.

Danny dozed on the drive, which left Steve too much time to think without distraction. He wouldn't have said before that he had missed Danny while he was in New Jersey. He'd talked to him throughout every day he'd been gone.

He wouldn't even say that he'd felt weird, driving around in his truck, partnering with others from the team. Both were common enough occurrences.

But this, driving down the road, Danny in the passenger seat, this was right. Like he'd had a fracture of his own, and his body had been compensating, but now it was whole again.

Or like he was home.

"Are we there yet?" Danny mumbled thickly.

"Almost. Wake up—I'm not carrying you over the threshold."

Danny snuffled what Steve assumed was supposed to be some kind of laugh. "You're a horrible husband, Steven."

Steve's laugh felt hollow as he turned into Danny's driveway. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty," Steve said softly. "Up and at 'em."

He got out and went around to help Danny out of the Camaro, wondering what drugs they'd given him. It was rare Steve saw him this pliant, or this uncoordinated—ladder fall aside.

Danny was steadier by the time they got into the house. Steve led him straight through to his room, where Danny sat down on the bed and just looked at him.

"Is Melissa coming over?" Steve asked.

Danny shook his head. "She's off island until Monday."

Which left Steve to help. "Do you want a shower?" Steve asked, ignoring any and all alternate implications of his questions with every fiber of his being. "Or just bed?"

Danny sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. "Shower," he said. "I smell like hospital."

"Well, stop falling off ladders and you won't smell like hospital."

Danny's laugh was stronger than the one in the car. "Usually I smell like hospital because you did something stupid."

Steve couldn't argue with that. He sat down next to Danny on the bed, ignoring the intimacy of it. They'd spent weeks in a hospital room side by side. They'd slept on a couch in a stake out. Hell, they'd cuddled on a couch.

So why was just sitting side by side on Danny's bed suddenly so intimidating?

This was all Harry's fault.

Steve shoved all that out of his mind to deal with later and started undoing the brace, glad he'd watched the nurse so carefully in the ER. When it was done, he slid it carefully off, watching how Danny paled, just a little, at the pain, despite the drugs.

"Come on," Steve said, helping Danny up so he didn't accidentally try to push with his left hand, and into the bathroom. He helped Danny get out of his t-shirt, then said, "I'll go find you something to sleep in," and left the room before Danny could get any more undressed.

There were only so many things Steve could lock away and pretend weren't there.

He heard the water start, but only once he heard the shower door close did Steve go back into the bathroom, ignoring the shadowy figure of naked Danny behind the opaque glass as he left the sweatpants on the toilet and left the room again.

By the time Danny came back into the room, thankfully in the sweatpants, his hair wet, Steve had pulled down the covers, and brought Danny's painkillers and an open bottle of water in to the night stand.

"You want a shirt?" Steve asked, his eyes straying to the scar on Danny's abdomen. It was thinner, now, barely visible at first glance, but Steve would always know exactly where to look. He saw its twin on his own body every day.

"I'm good," Danny said, brushing against Steve as he went by, before he lowered himself carefully onto bed, sitting up so Steve could put the brace on.

Being that close to a freshly showered Danny, the heat of the shower coming off him, his smell so clear and strong, was an exercise in torture, but Steve managed, his voice only a little horse as he straightened and asked, "Do you want another pain killer?"

Danny shook his head. "It hurts, but it's not that bad yet."

"They're on the nightstand with water if you want them."

"Thanks." Danny laid back on the bed, pulling the covers up with his good hand. "Man, this feels amazing," he said, closing his eyes, his words slurred. "I feel like I've been up for twenty-four hours."

Steve checked his watch. "Twenty-eight, actually," he said.

"That explains it." Danny opened his eyes, smiling up at Steve. "Thanks for taking care of me."

"I thought I was the reason you were hurt in the first place."

"Mmm, well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it," Danny said, but there was no heat to it. "Anyone asks, it was all your fault."

"Isn't it always?"

Danny nodded, his eyes slipping closed. "Always," he said.

"Yeah, yeah. Night, Danno."

Danny's reply sounded like maybe it was goodnight, but it was so mumbled Steve wasn't sure. He stood there for a long moment, watching Danny sleep, before he turned around and left.

***

Chapter Text

Danny flopped over in bed for the millionth time. He punched the pillow and looked up at the clock, the 3:14 on its face mocking his inability to ignore it and go to sleep.

He turned over again, putting the clock behind him, but it didn't matter. It was as if he could hear it ticking. Impossible—it was electric and didn't make any noise—but he could hear the little tick, tick, tick in his head all the same.

He closed his eyes, but all he saw were the crime scene photos from Toast's murder. Maybe he shouldn't have looked. But he was a cop. He could handle crime scenes.

Just not one where he'd been somewhat responsible, apparently.

Steve had been right. It was possible Toast would have been dead long before now if Danny hadn't saved him from doing serious time. And Danny didn't have a time machine. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he could've done. If Steve couldn't get there, no one could.

None of that stopped Toast's bloody face from appearing in neon every time Danny closed his eyes. Nor did it do anything to make the elephant stop standing on Danny's chest. He thought he'd finally killed that elephant when he'd made peace with Matt's death, but apparently its kid was back for revenge.

Danny almost missed the days right after he'd hurt his arm, when painkillers had at least given him a few hours of sleep. He could still take one now, but he didn't need it, and he'd seen more than one cop go down that road in the past. He wouldn't do that to the people he cared about.

He'd already done enough to the people he cared about. Or they'd done enough to themselves because they cared for him. After all, Steve had only opened the uranium to keep Danny from doing it. For that matter, he'd taken the bullets that cost him his liver while being a buffer that kept Danny from getting shot. Okay, the last one was a coincidence, but still, the facts were irrefutable.

People Danny cared about, the people he invested in, they either got hurt or they left.

Everything he'd loved, everything that had mattered most, one by one they went away. Rachel left. Matt...well, that was a clusterfuck if ever there was one. Grace and Charlie would leave for their own lives one day, and while Danny wouldn't stop them for a second, and he'd be proud of everything, it still wouldn't be the same.

The biggest thing Danny would have left at this rate would be Steve. But that was only if Steve was still around. Oh Steve's not willingly going anywhere—Danny has the imaginary restraining orders from the early days in the back of his head to remind himself of that.

But Steve wasn't exactly following prescribed guidelines for...well, for anything that had ever happened to him. Jumping across buildings about five seconds after he'd had a liver transplant, and not caring that a doctor had said he'd absolutely, one hundred percent have cancer and die one day...yeah, Steve wasn't exactly someone Danny could count on to be around forever, no matter how much Steve might want to stay.

He'd spent several of these nights trying to figure out how to make Steve stay. How to get him to take better care of himself, to realize doing things like jumping off overpasses onto moving trucks was not conducive to a long life.

So far he had nothing.

He rolled over and looked at the clock. 3:18.

Fuck it.

Danny pushed himself up off the bed and shoved the covers aside. He reached for the laptop he'd dropped down beside the bed before attempting to sleep and opened it, the low light revealing the same Web MD page he'd been clicking through.

Maybe if he came up with a plan, at least he'd be able to sleep.

***

Chapter Text

Steve wasn't sure how he'd ended up on the bench. He remembered the doctor calling a time of death, but everything after that was hazy. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when Lou came up behind him.

"You mind if I sit down with you?" Lou asked. Steve ignored him, but Lou being Lou, he sat down anyway. "It was dark down there, man," Lou said. "There was no way you could've known."

It was no excuse. He was a trained SEAL. And he'd had plenty of muzzle flash to see in his barrage of shooting. But he hadn't been able to make the guy out. And he'd kept shooting. "No, man. I messed up."

"Don't do that."

Don't do what, mess up? Too late. "I didn't have a visual."

"Steve, listen, man. It was an accident. The guy was trained. He should've identified himself as a cop."

Should've, was, all past tense. Because the guy was still dead. "Lou," Steve said. "I didn't have a visual."

Facts were facts, and all the excuses in the world weren't going to make the dead cop in the ER get up and start breathing again.

Steve pushed off the bench, feeling about a hundred years old as he walked away.

***

Steve made it to his truck and got in. He put his hands on the wheel before he realized his keys were still in his pocket.

Also, his hands were covered in blood. As were his arms, and probably a lot of other places. He checked the mirror, and saw it. So much blood—cop blood, but he couldn't think about that, not yet. He had a job to do first.

He pulled the wet wipes out of the console and started cleaning his hands. He was working on cleaning under his nails when his phone rang. Steve glanced at the screen, unsurprised to see Danny's name.

Of course. The only question was who had called Danny first.

He could just not answer it. He didn't deserve Danny right now. He already knew what Danny was going to say, and how it was going to be aimed at making Steve feel better, and he didn't deserve any of it.

But he also couldn't ignore Danny.

Steve accepted the call with a, "Yeah," that he hoped maybe, just maybe, Danny would take as Steve being busy and then he could cut the call short.

"Hey, partner, how ya doing?"

God, that tone. Soft and careful, and that, that right there was what Steve didn't deserve right now. "Better than the other guy," Steve said, the words like sandpaper all the way up through his throat.

"Don't do that."

What? Tell the truth? "I couldn't see him, Danny."

"In the dark?" Steve could picture the 'I can't believe I left Jersey for this' face that went with the tone. "Imagine that!"

Funny how it wasn't until Danny that Steve had finally understood why they called it 'pointed sarcasm.' Not that all the points in the world made a difference. "I didn't have a visual," Steve said. Why was no one getting it? "I shouldn't have shot."

"Oh, really? Let me ask you something—did he identify himself?"

"No, but—"

"And was he shooting at you?" Danny pressed.

"Someone was, yeah, but—"

"And what do we do when we're being shot at, Steve?" Danny asked, in a tone Steve recognized from years of hearing Danny teach his kids right and wrong. "We shoot back."

"Danny, that's not the—"

"It is the point, Steve. We go over stuff like this. We do drills. We plan for situations like this. And why do we do all that training?"

"Danny, I—"

"Ah ah ah! We do it so that when someone is shooting at us we don't die. And I, for one, would like to say I approve of your heretofore unheard of self-preservation instincts. That you are actively trying to not die is a step in the right direction."

Steve heard the concern under the tone. Danny wasn't making light of the situation. Danny was doing what Danny did best—trying to argue Steve into a better frame of mind.

But Steve didn't deserve it.

"Danny," Steve said, firmly. "He was a cop."

"I know," Danny said, after a moment, the words soft now. It was like iodine on a cut, meant to heal, but burning Steve's wounds all the same. "And so are you."

Steve pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Maybe by the time he was done he'd find the words he needed.

"Let me ask you something," Danny said, still in that same tone. "Was he behind you or ahead of you?"

"Ahead."

"Then what was he doing shooting behind him?"

"I don't know—maybe he came in the way the robbers got out and thought they were still down there."

"And you had time to sit down and make that deduction when bullets were flying by aimed at your head?"

"No."

"Then what reasonable cop would think that a guy shooting at him without saying a word, from the direction where the criminals went, was anything other than one of the criminals?"

Steve didn't want logic, not now. He didn't deserve to feel better, not when he could picture the cop's funeral, his family taking a flag and a badge home instead of a son, or a husband, or a father.

"Steve."

"Danny, I got a call on the other line. I gotta go."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later, but stop it, okay? Just stop."

"I gotta go."

Steve hung up, dropping the phone on the seat beside him. He leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. Danny had been right about one thing—Steve was a cop. And he didn't get the luxury of sitting here while the people who'd set this whole thing in motion got away. He could take his punishment, whatever that might be, later.

Right now, it was time to get cleaned up and do the job.

***

Steve took his holster and gun off his hip and laid it on his desk. Outside, he could hear the sounds of the scene being cleaned up—though he was sure some of the money had blown away to be found by some lucky people on the street with no idea where it came from.

Oh well. It wasn't like the impound locker would miss a few dollars gathering dust.

He sat down, closing his eyes. God he was tired. Not just physically—that he'd gotten used to, particularly in the last year or so. But this was a bone tired, like his individual cells had been on a three-day, no-sleep, caffeine-infused rampage.

His phone rang. He didn't even have to glance at the screen to know who it was, but he did anyway, just in case. "Hey," he answered.

"So I hear it's raining money," Danny said. "Wanna go grab some for Grace and Charlie's tuition funds?"

Laughter felt weird, like he hadn't done it in days instead of mere hours. But it felt good. "I'm pretty sure that would be illegal."

"Oh, well, it was a thought," Danny said, his voice turning softer at the end of the sentence. "How are you doing now that you know he wasn't a cop?"

Damn. Either Danny had Steve bugged, or their entire team did nothing but call Danny every time anything happened when he wasn't there. "Better," Steve said.

"Yeah? 'Cause it's funny how you don't sound better."

The laughter felt a little more normal this time. "I am, Danny, I am. I'm just tired."

"You're not having any other symptoms, are you?"

Of course that was the first place Danny's brain would go, and Steve felt like shit for making it happen. He'd tried to be so careful since Danny had admitted just how worried he was about Steve getting sick. Steve had been making a conscious effort to show Danny he was not going to just roll over and die, not from an invading liver, and not from invading cancer cells.

"No, Nurse Nan, I am not having any other symptoms. I'm just tired. It's been a day."

"Nurse Nan?" Danny's voice conjured up the matching face, complete with raised eyebrows and a frown that no one's face should be able to make. "Tell me that wasn't a Soapdish reference."

Steve relaxed into his chair. "It was on TV the other day," he said. "And the fact that you actually knew what it was says more about you than me."

"Whatever." Steve could almost hear the dismissive handwave. "Seriously, though" Danny said, his tone matching the word, "you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Danny. I promise," Steve said. "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't have ten phone calls in under a minute if I wasn't. What did you do, offer them rewards for being the first one to call?"

"Strangely enough, I didn't have to offer them anything," Danny said. "Or even ask. They just worry about you."

And they know you're the one who can talk me down. Which was something he'd learned to be grateful for and yet not examine too closely. "Yeah, well, you can all stop worrying about me. I'm fine."

"If you say so."

He could tell Danny wasn't completely convinced, but he was at least appeased. For now.

Adam stopped at the door, hand on the glass before he saw Steve was on the phone and turned around. "Look, I gotta go," Steve said. "I think Adam's a few hours overdue for his ride home."

"Yeah, I can't wait to hear how he and Junior ended up tagging along."

"I'll tell you about it later, okay?"

"Yeah," Danny said. "Talk to you later."

"Hey, Danny?"

"Hm?"

Steve swallowed carefully. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Danny's voice was gruff. "Later."

Steve hung up, pocketing his phone as he got up and went to find the others.

***

Chapter Text

Danny wasn't sure which sunk faster—his heart, or the plane. Fucking Steve McGarrett, more worried about his fucking competitive streak than his life, as usual, and now he was going to die a fiery death in front of Danny's eyes when all he had to do was put the plane in the air, fly it nice and smooth, and put it down.

But no, he'd had to showboat. And now? Now he really was going to die, and not with some long, drawn out illness where at least Danny had time to say...well, he didn't know what he'd say, and now he never would because Steve was a fucking maniac.

After what had to be at least a year, the plane leveled off, and Danny remembered how to breathe. When he remembered how to speak, he asked Steve how he was doing.

"That was almost unpleasant," was Steve's response.

Almost unpleasant? If Danny wasn't so relieved to hear Steve's voice, he'd be planning how hard he was going to punch Steve in the face when he landed. "That was definitely almost unpleasant, yes," Danny said instead.

"Wait a minute, were you worried about me, Danny?"

Then again, maybe he'd punch the asshole in the face after all. "Just put the plane on the ground, please," Danny said. "You maniac."

"Hey, I'm sorry," Steve said, "did you just call me Maverick? Because if you did, that's, like, the greatest compliment you've ever given me. Thank you. I love you."

"Land the plane, you idiot."

"Copy that," Steve said. "Permission to buzz the tower?"

Danny was going to buzz him. With his fist. Before he could plan any further, Steve flew low over their heads and Danny ducked out of instinct, his heart pounding with the very real memory of slamming a plane into the beach.

Asshole.

***

Danny hung back as the others met Steve as he got out of the plane. He'd let them give Steve the bad news about his placement, then Danny could join in to mock.

Except he couldn't. Not in the face of Steve's bewilderment that he could come in last at anything. Which...to be fair, this was probably the first time in his life Steve had come in last at anything. Ever.

So Danny babbled something about these pilots doing this for a living, and threw in a 'Maverick' just to make Steve feel better as he guided Steve towards the cars. He even went along with Steve's assertion that the whole thing felt fast, when to Danny it had seemed longer than his last flight home. And back.

Time was relative when your heart was in your throat.

***

It wasn't until Danny had left Steve at his house and was headed home that he let himself think about the near miss, and Steve's words after.

"Did you just call me Maverick? Because if you did, that's, like, the greatest compliment you've ever given me. Thank you. I love you."

'I love you.' Three words Steve tossed around so casually where Danny was concerned. For a while it had been like their own private joke, saying it to each other. The words had come easily, an automatic response. Every time Steve had tossed them at Danny, he'd lobbed them back without thinking.

He wasn't sure when he'd stopped saying it back.

Not that Steve had called him on it, not once, despite the number of times Danny now realized it had gone unanswered. He wasn't sure if Steve was just being nice, or he didn't want to know why.

Or maybe he did know, because sometimes he knew Danny better than Danny knew himself.

Danny wasn't even sure which was the worst case scenario. He was just grateful Steve hadn't mentioned it.

So long as they didn't have to be cooped up together anytime soon, maybe he wouldn't need to look too closely at why he suddenly couldn't say it back.

***

Chapter Text

"I'll be back," Steve said, hating how difficult it was to push himself up off the deck of the boat. He made it to his feet, though, and stumbled only a little as he headed for the cabin.

The darkness inside helped his headache, but he couldn't stay put, had to keep moving. The others could sit there and wait for fate to take them, but Steve always thought better if he kept moving, and he needed to think.

About what, though? It wasn't as if he could fix things. They were stuck on that boat, their lives in other people's hands, and while Steve trusted Lou and Adam with his life, that didn't negate the fact that he preferred to be the one out there doing the work.

Instead of stuck here, watching his team get sicker by the minute. A team that wasn't even fully a team yet—Tani, who was an amazing addition in a short time, and Junior, who was showing every sign of being just as good, if Steve could figure out what was going on with him.

And then there was Danny.

Danny, who was more than just a team member, more than family, more than...Steve didn't have the words for what they were. He had nothing else that had even come close in his life to compare it to.

"You can't bear to be apart."

Steve had mostly dismissed Harry's words at the time, or at least tried to. But no matter how many times he told himself that he would lose Danny one day, he couldn't delude himself anymore. The thought of a life without Danny was scarier than diffusing a dirty bomb.

Which was why he kept that thought so far buried he had no idea it had been lurking under the surface, waiting for him to see it.

The way his heart had practically stopped when Danny had fallen off the ladder even though he'd seen Danny come through so much worse. Hell, the way he checked on Danny first every single time they were in trouble. Steve had always thought it was for Grace, then for Grace and Charlie. And it was.

He just hadn't realized it was for himself, too.

The drive back from the hospital after Danny had fallen off the ladder, that feeling of home that just having Danny back on island, back in the passenger seat gave him. Or, going back further, how he'd wanted to pry Harry off Danny on the beach. How it had felt watching Dannny sign the restaurant lease, something tying the two them together, for better or for worse.

How far back could he go? Or, rather, how far did he want to, given their current situation? Because this felt like a revelation he should've had a long time ago, not now, not when their chances were growing slimmer by the minute.

He couldn't think that way, though. He had to stop thinking about this emotionally right now. Feelings clouded your judgement, and he already had a virus doing that. He didn't need to make it worse.

When this was over, when they were safe and on land, then Steve could think about what, if anything, he should do about this.

Until then, he had to keep moving.

***

Several circuits around the boat later, Steve found Danny kicked back in a deck chair, glass of wine in hand, listening to Jimmy Buffet. Steve lowered himself carefully into the chair beside Danny, looking out at the water.

It was almost like they were home, sitting in the chairs behind Steve's house, drinking and watching the ocean. Except for the rocking of the boat. And the virus that was currently killing them, cell by cell.

Steve blamed that fault for not contradicting Danny when he said he'd be dead before the hangover kicked in. He might be a SEAL, but even he was finding it hard to keep up the positive attitude right now. Even if he needed to, for Danny's sake if nothing else.

They were vastly different, the two of them. It was what made them work so well together, in all aspects of their lives. Common beliefs, with different personalities and strengths, the two of them stronger together.

Soulmates.

Steve barely let himself think the word, pushed it back down before he could even hint at it. And when Danny started nagging, Steve gave back as good as he got. Because Danny needed to see things as normal so he didn't give up.

"You know," Danny said, "I've been doing some thinking. And I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to talk to you about something—"

"Don't," Steve interrupted, because he knew Danny. Knew if Danny got to the point of saying how he felt, then that would mean Danny had stopped fighting. "Let's not, okay? I know."

"Know what?" Danny asked. "I haven't said anything."

"I know what you're gonna say," Steve said. "I feel the same way, all right, Danny? Let's not do that. I don't wanna do that." Couldn't do that, because it would only increase the chance that Danny would die.

"You feel the same way about the waiting room in our restaurant?"

About the... "What?"

Danny went into his idea for a waiting room, a crazy idea, in Steve's book, but if Danny was still planning for the restaurant, then he wasn't planning his funeral, and Steve would go along.

***

Danny flipped over on the bed, looking at his picture of Grace and Charlie. He missed them, but every time he felt their absence, he reminded himself of what would have likely happened to them if things hadn't gone down the way they did.

Still, that didn't mean he was exactly enjoying quarantine. "The next time I wax poetic about the idea of hiding away somewhere," Danny said, glancing across the nightstand at Steve, "shoot me."

"Happily," Steve said, putting his book down on the nightstand.

"You don't have to sound so happy about—wait." Danny picked up Steve's book, eyes widening as he looked at the cover. "This is what you decided to read?"

Steve shrugged. "I'm running out of books," he said, but there was something about his words that didn't quite ring true.

Danny grabbed the book before Steve could snatch it out of the way. "'Sworn to Protect,'" he read the title out loud, snickering as he read the description on the back. "'He won't stop until he finds the assailant and arrests him. Or puts him in the ground….'"

"Give me that!"

Steve made a grab for the book, but Danny jumped out of the way, moving across the room as he flipped through the pages, stopping on a passage to read out loud again. "'She didn't want to see Sundance as anything other than the annoying big brother of her best friend who lived to antagonize her. The fact that she'd begun to see him as a man'--oh, not just a 'man' but a man,, thanks for the clarification—"

"Says the guy who actually speaks in italics?" Steve interjected.

Danny ignored him in favor of continuing to read out loud, while walking backwards through the connecting room into the living area. "'--had disconcerted her to the point of irrationality.'" Danny looked up, exaggerated frown firmly in place. "'Disconcerted her to the point of irrationality'? Seriously?"

"Yeah, Danny, I can't imagine how someone who lived to antagonize a person could make them irrational."

"No, 'disconcerted her to the point of irrationality,' Danny said again, shaking his head. "When we get out of here, I'm going to go find this woman and arrest her for abuse of the English language."

Tani looked up from her bowl of cereal. "You're going to complain about someone abusing English?" she said.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"You know that rule about people in glass houses, right?" Tani asked.

"I know English," Danny said. "I graduated college."

"Really?" Tani ate the last bite of cereal. "So you were, what, absent the day they taught 'John and I' vs. "John and me'?"

Danny was momentarily distracted by Steve swiping the book back. "I'm going to go finish reading," Steve said, shooting Tani a look that was far more delighted than warranted before he left the room.

"You have a problem with the way I talk, rookie?" Danny asked, all false politeness.

Tani shrugged as she put her bowl in the sink. "I'm just saying, you should probably learn all the rules of English." She padded across to the sofa and sat down, pulling one leg up to rest her chin on her knee, "You know, before you go arresting others."

"What's wrong with my English?"

"You say things like, 'There is nothing wrong with Steve and I.'"

"And?"

Tani shook her head. "It's 'me,' not 'I,'" she said. "'Steve and me.'"

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. You say the same word you'd use if the other person wasn't there. 'There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with Steve and me.'"

Danny dropped down on the couch, thinking about that for a moment. "That actually makes sense," he said.

"Yeah, well, I did get an A in English." Her smile dimmed a little. "And most of my classes, actually."

Danny studied her for a moment. "So why'd you become a cop then?"

"That's a long story," she said, drawing out the words. "And they won't let us have alcohol in here, so you're gonna have to wait to hear it."

"Fair enough." Danny had a lot of stories of his own he wouldn't tell with less than four beers in him. "Assuming you haven't changed your mind about working here after all the fun we've had the last few days."

Tani shook her head, still looking thoughtful. "I've been thinking," she said slowly, "about the day you talked me into this."

"Yeah?" Danny prompted.

She nodded. "You said that Steve would always be there, no matter what. I thought I knew what that meant, but I didn't. Not until we were on that boat. But I get it now." She looked up at him. "Maybe better than you."

"Trust me, you haven't been here long enough to get it half as well as me."

"Ah, but I have a different viewpoint."

Danny rolled his eyes. "What, because of your female intuition?"

"Nope. Not that." She leaned in a little, and Danny felt like he was under a magnifying glass. "Because I," she said carefully, "am not you."

"Sorry?"

"You said that Steve was always there, no matter what. But I don't think you get your own part in it."

Danny shrugged. "I'm part of the team. We're always there for each other."

"No, I mean Steve is always there, yeah, I see that. But now I see why."

"Because that's who he is," Danny said.

"Yeah, that's part of it—and I swear it has to be some kind of SEAL thing, because Junior is like an overeager lab puppy with sickening Hallmark cards for every occasion."

Her tone made it clear she didn't mind that nearly as much as the words would indicate, and Danny filed that away to tease her about some other time. "I wonder if they use Labradors to train SEALs," Danny said, because the description fit Steve as well.

"Maybe they breed them in a secret lab." She snorted. "No pun intended."

Danny laughed. When she didn't go back to her thought, though, he prompted, "You said 'that's part of it.'"

"Right." For the first time she looked uncertain. "It's just...."

"Spit it out. First rule of team—honesty."

"Steve is Steve—he's always going to be there for people. But I'm not sure if it's just Steve. I think it's Steve and you."

"Steve and I?" At her look, he made an impatient noise and waved a hand. "Steve and me?"

Tani smiled. "Yeah, Steve and you. You were pretty out of it there at the end on the boat. So I don't know if you realized how many times he was in there checking on you. How much he was watching over you." She took a deep breath. "I'm not saying he wouldn't have fought to the end. But I think he fights harder so you'll be safe."

"But that's just Steve," Danny said. "Trust me, I've seen the aftermath of Steve in danger on his own—even after the last two months, you still wouldn't believe half of it. He fights to the last breath," Danny said, memories of North Korea and Afghanistan mingling with too many others. "And he always, always manages to fight his way out and come home."

"Yeah, but that doesn't remove you from the equation, Danny."

He frowned. "I don't get it."

"You said he comes home. What does he fight to come home to?"

"I...."

Tani's eyebrows shot up. "Shouldn't that be 'me'?"

She was new. That had to be the only reason for her view of things. Once she'd been around for a while she'd see that it was just Steve. Danny wasn't stupid—he knew he was important to Steve, just like Steve was important to him. But that didn't make either of them who they were.

Did it?

"Am I interrupting something?" Junior asked from the entrance.

Danny didn't miss the way Tani's eyes lit up as she looked at Junior. Then again, it was hard to miss, seeing as it happened every time the two of them were in the same room.

"I think it's time for me to leave you to your glass house," Danny said.

Tani blinked up at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Nothing," Danny said. If she wasn't ready to see it, who was he to push her. It was easier to see things like that from the outside.

Which had kind of been Tani's point...but this was different.

"I'm just gonna go see if I can mock McGarrett's book some more," Danny said, leaving his seat free for Junior.

***

Danny pushed his face into his pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep, but it was no good. Something was different about the room, and he wasn't falling back asleep until he woke up enough to figure out what it was.

It didn't take long.

He opened his eyes to see Steve's bed empty, covers pushed back like Steve wasn't planning to be gone long. Except there was no sound from the bathroom, and Danny could just make out the faint bit of extra light from the living area.

He yawned into his pillow once before shoving the covers back. Junior didn't stir as Danny walked carefully past his bed, and there was no sound from the short hallway to Tani's room either.

There was also no sound from the living area, but when Danny reached the entrance, he saw Steve sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. His bare feet were up on the couch as well, one knee bent up, the other lying on its side.

It didn't look comfortable to Danny, with his ACL that ached if he even bent it that much for more than a minute, but Steve seemed relaxed enough, at least until he saw Danny.

"Hey," Steve said, his voice sleep rough, doing things to Danny's stomach. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Danny said, though he realized now Steve's absence was the only thing that had been different about the room. "I must be getting better, because I can't take anymore sleep."

He shuffled across the room to sit down, just close enough that he could feel the warmth that radiated off Steve, but just far enough away that they weren't touching. "What about you?" Danny asked.

"Nightmares." Steve shrugged as if that was normal. Which...your basic, run of the mill nightmares were normal enough, but Danny knew Steve's brand of nightmares were far from normal.

Danny nodded. "The last few days would be enough to give anyone nightmares."

Steve took a long breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah," he said finally. "You, too?"

"Not this time, but yeah, I've had more than a few in the last couple days." When they'd first been brought in, he'd been too sick remember more than the dark emotions from his dreams, but once he'd come through the worst of the virus, he'd had a few ugly dreams about the boat. About what could've happened.

And a few awake nightmares over the story Junior and Tani had told about the water rescue of the antidote. It had been all too easy for Danny to picture his best friend jumping into dangerous waters to save him.

"You wanna play chess?" Steve asked.

"Uh, no, because I don't want to wake the kids with our yelling."

Steve huffed a laugh. "They do seem so young, don't they?"

"And yet wise for their years," Danny said.

Steve nodded, studying Danny for a long moment. "You're really feeling better?"

The worry in Steve's voice, in his eyes, wrapped around Danny like a warm blanket. "Yeah. A lot better."

"Good." Steve swallowed carefully. "You were pretty bad there at the end," he said, his voice scratchier than before. "I mean, we were all really sick, but you...."

Yeah, Danny had an idea. Thankfully only an idea. "Yeah, but you managed to jump into roaring ocean and save me," he said, using his foot to nudge Steve in the calf. "My hero."

Steve rolled his eyes, but they were even brighter when he fixed them on Danny again. "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you," he said. "Gracie and Charlie need their dad."

Of course, that made sense. Steve didn't want Grace and Charlie to go through what he'd gone through. He fought for Danny, yeah, but to protect Danny's kids from losing their father. That was what Tani saw, no matter what she thought it was.

And if Danny had wanted it to be anything else, well, it was better for everyone that it wasn't.

***

Chapter Text

It was nice, sitting behind Steve's house, listening to the ocean. Even after so many decades, there was something peaceful about it, especially with Steve beside him. Steve, who despite all Danny's worries, was still alive, still right there by Danny's side, a presence Danny could feel even with his eyes closed.

Danny shifted, his shoulder stabbing at him when he moved. That wasn't right, though. Nothing was painful here. It never was. Only peaceful.

He shifted again, and it hurt worse, causing him to open his eyes. The sound of the ocean vanished, replaced by the faint beeping of machines, that distinct smell of medicine and antiseptic, and the low background murmur of noises that never seemed to fully quiet in a hospital.

There was one consistency with Danny's dream—he could feel Steve's presence to his left. He looked over to find Steve asleep in a chair beside the bed. The stiffness of his shoulders suggested he'd been there for some time.

Danny moved, trying to find a position that didn't hurt his shoulder quite so much. It didn't work, but the motion was enough to wake Steve, who blinked sleepily at Danny.

"Hey," Steve said, sitting up, and that smile...that smile did things that Danny had no defense against in his current state. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot." Danny shifted again, wincing. "What happened?"

"You got shot."

He wanted to make a joke, but there was something in Steve's voice that said maybe it was a little too soon to make light of it. "That much I remember. What happened after?"

"We had to improvise a little," Steve said. "But we got you out, and the doctors think you're gonna be okay."

Danny looked around and realized he was in a regular room. "I guess we're not going to die of the virus, either?"

"Nope," Steve said. "We're all clear."

"Oh good." Danny shifted again, wincing at the pull near his shoulder. "If we're all clear, then you should go home and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired. I'll go home in a bit."

Not tired my ass—Danny knew what tired looked like on Steve McGarrett, and this was edging towards exhaustion.

But Danny got it. After the transplant, Danny had been impatient to get into the same room with Steve, just to make sure he kept breathing. You watch someone bleeding out, feel their blood spilling all over your hands, you kind of need to see that they're still alive for a while before it sticks.

"It was just me that got hit, right?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. He was there for you," Steve said. "You still don't know who he was?"

Danny shook his head, the move causing more pain. "I have no idea. I'm guessing you don't, either? "

"We're still looking into it." Steve had his game face on, the one that said he wasn't going to lose. "We'll figure it out."

"I don't get it," Danny said. The memory of what happened was hazy, but he remembered seeing the guy's lifeless eyes. "He killed himself right after, didn't he?"

Steve nodded. "Only two bullets in the gun, too. Whatever this guy thinks you did, he was pretty pissed about it."

"So I'm guessing I didn't steal his girlfriend in the eighth grade, then?"

"Probably not."

Danny shifted a little too much, his breath catching at the sharpest pain yet. "Fuck."

"You want me to get the nurse?" Steve asked, out of the chair before he finished the question.

"Nah, just push the button on the magic medicine for me, maybe?" He'd had far too much experience with this in his life.

"Sure." Steve pushed the button.

"Thanks," Danny said. "You should go home."

Steve sat back down in the chair. "In a bit."

"Seriously," Danny said, his words already slurring from the drugs. "I'm going to be out for a few hours, at least."

"Then I'll be here when you wake up."

Danny didn't have it in him to argue any further, not when he didn't really want Steve to go anyway.

***

Danny stared out the window, watching the patterns the clouds made on the ground as they moved over the sun. He recognized the speed of the clouds and the growing darkness on the horizon—Honolulu was in for a downpour sometime in the next half hour.

A light knock at the open door to his hospital room got his attention. He turned as Tani walked in, a bag in her hands. "Feeling better?" she asked.

"If I say yes, you think they'll let me go home?"

"It's only been two days," she said. "Give it a couple more."

"Easy for you to say—you got your freedom from this place."

"Yeah, but you don't have to deal with the boss being cranky."

Danny gave her a look. "Welcome to the last seven years of my life."

"Believe me, he's a lot more cranky when you're not there."

"Only because he doesn't have me to bother."

Tani sat down beside the bed. "Or something," she said.

"Or something?"

She looked at him for a few seconds. "How much do you remember about after you were shot?"

"Not much." Mostly weird dreams, and the fear he could hear in Steve's voice. Always that fear, and Steve's hands, anchors on Danny's shoulders, keeping him there, not letting him drift away.

But he wasn't admitting any of that to Tani.

"I gotta tell you, I've seen McGarrett in some scary situations in the past couple months, but I've never seen him like that."

She was going to be a persistent detective, if this was any indication, because she clearly wasn't letting this go. "He was just worried about losing all the money he has invested in my restaurant."

"You can joke all you want," Tani said, "but I have eyes. I thought he might shoot me because I couldn't find a way out of the room fast enough to get you help."

"You're exaggerating."

"Not by much." She sat back, her eyes narrowing as she studied Danny. "Why are you working so hard to convince me otherwise, hm?"

Danny shrugged, wincing at the pain it caused. "Clearly you need more honing of your instincts if you're this wrong," he said. "I'm just trying to help."

"No," she said, after a moment. "It's not that. You want to know what I think?"

"No."

"I think," she said, "that you know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it."

"I think," Danny said, "that you should drop it."

She studied him a moment longer before she shrugged. "Okay," she said, "for now." She sat up, putting the bag on his lap. "Here, I brought you a get well gift."

"Thank you." Danny opened the bag and pulled out a book. "'Words into Type?'"

"It's the definitive resource for grammar. I figured since you're laid up in here you could learn all those rules you skipped in school."

"You know, I could get Steve to send you back to being a lifeguard."

She just laughed. "You could," she said, smiling at him. "But you won't."

***

"Seriously, Danny," Steve said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen. "How do you let our restaurant run out of salt?"

"Excuse me?" Danny said, heedless of an entire kitchen full of staff hanging on every word. "How do I let it run out? Who does the ordering, huh?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I've been busy picking up the slack while you laid around in a hospital bed."

Danny woke up, looking around. There was no kitchen, only a hospital room with the same view he'd had for several days.

The dream might've been different this time, but they'd all had the same theme since he'd been shot. Not that he remembered all of them, but the common thread was difficult to ignore.

Steve.

Even when it was Grace's wedding day, the wedding was at Steve's. When they were old and gray, they were sitting behind Steve's. Everything in every dream somehow had to do with Steve.

Clearly Danny's subconscious was sending him a message.

Not that it was exactly news that he wanted to grow old with Steve at this point. He'd just been doing a really good job of ignoring a lot of things about it until now. Besides, there were a lot of ways to grow old with Steve without doing anything else Danny may or may not want to do with Steve. And Danny had gotten really good at taking what he can get and not thinking about the rest.

"I gotta tell you, I've seen McGarrett in some scary situations in the past couple months, but I've never seen him like that."

Tani's words about Steve when Danny had been shot came back to him. Of course, anyone who'd been a scared kid when his mom had died, who'd heard the shot that killed his father over the phone, would freak out at the thought of kids he loved losing their dad.

That was all it was.

***

Danny stared at Steve, who was watching the road with a heretofore unknown level of caution. A quick glance at the speedometer showed that Steve was going only four miles over the speed limit. And when a light turned yellow have a block away, Steve carefully slowed down.

"Okay," Danny said, "I only dreamed they let me out and I'm still in the hospital, aren't I?"

Steve blinked at him. "What?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of for your driving."

"I'm driving like a normal person."

"Exactly," Danny said. "You are driving like a normal person and not you, ergo, I must be either under the influence of some really good pain killers or back on the operating table."

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again. He'd gone two more blocks before he said, eyes on the road, "I thought maybe you might not want to hit a lot of bumps and be in pain. But if you'd prefer, I could go 90 and cut all the corners by driving over the curb."

"It would at least be normal for you."

Steve took his head, but he stepped on the gas a little harder. "That's more like it," Danny said.

It was still almost sedate driving, by Steve's standards, but they got to Danny's house fast enough. Steve hovered as Danny got out of the car, walking slowly beside him as if he was going to break, without managing to make Danny feel like an invalid.

By the time Danny got into the living room, he was tired. He sat down on the couch, closing his eyes, listening as Steve put Danny's stuff away. The water ran in the kitchen, and a moment later Danny heard his name, soft and low, beside him.

He opened his eyes to see Steve holding out a glass of water. Danny took it, then the pills that Steve held out as well. "I thought I was tired of sleeping," Danny said, before he downed the painkillers and chased them with half the glass of water, "but I think I need a nap already."

"Come on," Steve said. "I'll help you to your room."

"I can make it," Danny said. He managed to push himself to his feet, but only barely, and shuffled his way to his room, Steve still hovering nearby. Danny didn't have it in him to snap, even if part of him hated being treated like that. Steve was, deep down, a badass SEAL version of a mother hen, and Danny couldn't change that about him without changing half the stuff Danny loved about the guy.

Which was a thought he didn't need to have with Steve right there in the room.

Danny laid down in bed, also something he didn't need to think too much about with Steve right there, looking down at him. "Can I get you anything?" Steve asked.

Danny shook his head, wincing a little as his stitches pulled. "Go home," Danny said. "Get some rest. You look like shit."

He did, in fact, look exhausted, but he did not look like shit. Still, Danny couldn't admit that. Steve might think something was up.

"I'll stick around. Make sure you don't need anything later."

"Steven—"

"Danny, I have some paperwork to do anyway. I can do it as easily here as at HQ or at home."

"You're doing paperwork? Seriously, I'm dying on the operating table right now, aren't I?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but Danny knew that fond smile trying to break through on Steve's face. "You're not dying."

Steve's tone was almost normal, just a hint of what Tani had likely seen when Danny had been shot coming through. "Oh, good. Then let me get some sleep so I can get on with that living thing soon."

"Okay. I'll be in the living room. Give me a yell if you need anything."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Danny didn't hear Steve leave before he fell asleep.

***

Chapter Text

A loud beeping woke Steve up. He sat up in the chair and looked at Danny, lying still in the hospital bed, while machines around him screamed.

Before Steve could do anything, people started pouring in to work on Danny. Steve backed away, standing in a corner, arms tightly around himself as he watched the doctors and nurses work for what felt like hours until they stopped.

"Call it," a doctor said, looking at his watch.

Steve jerked awake, looking around. No hospital, no doctors, and no Danny. Only Steve's living room and Eddie, asleep on the floor beside the couch. Steve looked up at the TV to see A Christmas Story was still playing. Great for accidental napping, unhelpful if you wanted to tell any kind of time when they were having a 24 hour marathon.

He checked his watch. Just after 9:30. Charlie would be going to sleep soon, but Danny would be up putting out Santa presents for a while yet, especially since he still got winded easily.

Maybe he could use some help.

Before he could change his mind, Steve got up, grabbed his keys, and headed for the truck.

***

The light was still on in Charlie's room when Steve pulled up to Danny's house. Steve knocked quietly, but there was no answer, so he took the key out from its super-secret hiding place that a five-year-old could find and unlocked the door. He put the key back and let himself in, locking the door behind him.

He could just hear Danny's voice in Charlie's room, too low to hear actual words, but enough to tell by the tone that Danny was telling a story. Steve moved a little closer to hear better.

Which was when he smelled the cookies.

He picked one up, and it smelled even better up close. The smell was nothing compared to the taste though. If they sold these at the restaurant, people would come just for dessert. The only thing that would make them better was milk. Which Danny surely had in the kitchen.

By the time Steve made his way back in with milk, Danny was there.

"Yo, why you gotta hold out on me with these cookies?" Steve asked. "Why wouldn't you tell me about these? These shockingly good. You don't tell me about these?"

Danny didn't look amused. "I don't know why that's shocking. I'm a fantastic baker."

"Did you bake these?

"Yeah, I baked those," Danny said, voice annoyed. "Do me a favor, next time you steal—"

"Wait, wait, wait, what'd you just say?" Steve asked. "'Steal'? I didn't steal anything."

"You didn't?"

Was there anything Danny couldn't overreact to? "They're sitting right there."

"For Santa Claus. They're sitting right there for Santa Claus, not for you. Okay?" Danny held the plate out, clearly wanting Steve to put the cookies back. "I hope you're proud of yourself. You stole cookies from Santa Claus. Animal."

"Let me explain something to you," Steve said. He sat down, but he put the rest cookies back on the plate.

"All right. Explain things to me. Because I need things explained things to me."

"If Santa Claus got his big, fat sausage fingers on these cookies, that means he would be guilty of a home invasion. You ever think about that?"

"What about you?" Danny asked. "You just broke into my house. Did you think about that?"

"I didn't break into your house."

"Yes, you did."

"I used the key that's behind the rock," Steve said, looking for a good explanation as to why as he stalled, "that you leave outside behind the rock, that you put there for emergencies." He took a drink and hoped Danny didn't ask what kind of emergency.

"What's the emergency?"

So much for that hope. Steve took a drink. "I needed some cookies."

He didn't need to look at Danny to know the exact expression on his face. "Uh-huh," Danny said at last.

"Now I'm eating cookies," Steve said. Danny reaches for a cookie and Steve's like "What are you doing?"

"I can't have one of my cookies?"

"Yes, you can, you can have the top cookie."

"No, now that you touched it—"

"I didn't touch it. I'm touching the bottom cookie." Though, really, Steve's finger had literally been poking around inside Danny's chest not all that long ago, and part of Danny's liver now resided inside Steve, so that whole line of argument was more than a little stupid.

"Your finger is on a piece of this—"

Seriously? "It literally—"

"It doesn't even matter. The truth of the matter is I have a whole tray of cookies that I can have for myself with my own milk."

"Where are they?"

"In the kitchen."

"Go get 'em." Because Steve was almost done with these and needed some more.

"I'm gonna."

"Good, Grinch."

"I'm...I'm a Grinch?"

"You're kind of Grinchy."

Danny glared at him. "You're a gorilla."

Steve made noises like a gorilla, with a mouth full of cookie for extra effect.

"That's disgusting," Danny said. "But it does confirm that you are, in fact, an animal."

"Technically all humans are animals, Danny."

"Yes, but they are not all as in touch with their animal side as you are."

Steve shook his head as he finished off the last cookie. "Tell you what," Steve said. "I'm going to be civilized and offer to help you put out all the presents from Santa."

"I'd have thought you'd have had your fill of Santa Claus for the year."

"I have, but for you, buddy, I will get past it."

Danny rolled his eyes. "You mean for more cookies you'll get past it."

Steve shrugged. "I mean, if you don't want the help...."

"Fine," Danny said, his sigh very long suffering. "Stuff's in the closet. I'm sure you can find the key, since you broke into the house."

Steve just raised an eyebrow at Danny, while finishing the last of his milk, before he got up, found the key that Danny kept in a vase on the shelf closest to the closet so Charlie didn't accidentally find any presents, and opened the door.

"Okay, seriously, do you have a camera in here somewhere?" Danny asked. "Because how else would you know where that was?"

"Are you saying I'm not a good detective?" Steve asked, as he started pulling out what looked like half of Toys R Us. "Is that what you're telling me? That I could not possibly have detected the location of that key?"

"Well, I suppose seven years of working with me has maybe rubbed off on you a little."

Steve took a hockey jersey off a shelf in the closet and laid it carefully under the tree. "Well, in answer to your first question, no, I do not have a camera in here." Not that he would exactly argue if Danny were to put one in to monitor the house, because then Steve could check in when he got worried, but he thought Danny might have an issue with that. "And to the second question, it was the logical spot to hide a key near the door, and you looked at the vase as you were talking about finding the key."

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did—"

"Okay," Danny said. "In the interest of us not still sitting having this argument when Charlie wakes up in the morning, let's just assume you are a good detective and move on."

Steve beamed at him. "Why, Danno, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Jerk."

Steve let him have that one. "Okay," he said, surveying the toys lying around his feet, "what needs to be put together?"

He put together the various toys with a lot of instruction and not a small amount of grumbling from Danny, but Danny didn't jump in and take any of the tools away, and he didn't sound any more annoyed than a normal day, so Steve figured he wasn't doing it too badly.

Also, given the dream Steve had been trying to forget for the last hour, he didn't mind Danny grumbling so much, not in comparison to the still, lifeless dream-Danny that Steve could still see if he closed his eyes.

Danny's last order was to go get the rest of the cookies from the kitchen, along with two glasses of milk. Steve came back to the living room to find A Christmas Story on the TV, and Danny looking somewhat boneless and tempting on the couch.

"I should probably head home, I guess," Steve said, looking at the coffee table a little too carefully as he sat the cookies and milk down.

"Now?" Danny said. "Ralphie hasn't even decoded the secret message yet."

Figures that Danny would narrow in on the moment of deepest disappointment for the main character. "Maybe just for a little while," Steve said, dropping back down onto the couch. He picked up another cookie, focused on the TV, and let the fact that Danny was still there, alive and more or less well, just seep into his subconscious.

Maybe then he wouldn't dream otherwise.

***

"You'll shoot your eye out."

Steve fought to stay asleep, stretching comfortably. He was warm, pressed up against someone who smelled and felt wonderful, legs tangled, the other person's breath warm on Steve's neck.

Other person?

Steve opened his eyes to find Danny, snug up against Steve, cheek resting on Steve's shoulder. One of Danny's legs was slotted between both of Steve's, and Danny's arms were around Steve's waist.

A Christmas Story was playing on the TV. Right. They must have fallen asleep watching the movie and ended up curling into each other on the couch. Either that, or Steve was having the best dream he'd had in a while.

Danny's eyes blinked open, confusion giving way to a smile, that then shifted into something else. He leaned in, and Steve did the same, as natural as breathing. Their lips met, soft and easy. Steve threaded his hand through Danny's hair, holding him in place as Steve tasted the inside of Danny's mouth, finding the faint taste of chocolate chip cookies.

Definitely not a dream, then.

Steve pulled back at last, just far enough to see Danny's eyes, clear and awake. They narrowed after a moment, Danny's nose wrinkling before he said, "Was that weird?"

It didn't sound like it was weird to Danny—if anything, it sounded more like it was weird that it wasn't weird. Steve didn't think it was weird. But he couldn't quite say it. "It's Christmas," he said finally, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Danny seemed to accept it. He also made no move to get off the couch, searching Steve's face until Steve said, "I should probably go home."

"It's the middle of the night," Danny said. "Charlie will be up in a couple of hours, and Grace will be here soon after. Just stay."

Danny got up, leaving Steve to feel cold there on the couch alone. "Okay," Steve said.

He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and started laying it over his legs, but Danny shook his head. "You can't sleep on the couch. Charlie will never believe Santa came in and you didn't hear him. Come on. I have a big enough bed."

Danny held out a hand. Steve wondered what Charlie would believe if Steve slept in Danny's bed. But if Danny wasn't worried...

Steve took Danny's hand and used it to pull himself off the couch before he followed Danny down the hall to his room.

***

Charlie's high-pitched shriek jolted Danny out of sleep. He wondered if all kids had that almost-dog-whistle-pitch ability, or if it was something that was just genetic to the Williams family.

Danny pushed the covers back, looking over to the other side of the bed. The imprint of Steve's head on the pillow, along with the wrinkled sheets, proved that it had not, in fact, been a very realistic dream. He had actually kissed Steve on the couch and then invited him to bed.

Only to sleep, as it turned out, but still, he'd invited his partner into his bed. After kissing him.

Not to be lost in any of it was the fact that Steve had definitely kissed him back. He'd been very thorough about it. And when Danny had asked if it had been weird, Steve had only shrugged and said it was Christmas.

Yeah, thanks, that helped.

Was that a 'weird things happen at Christmas' kind of answer? Or a 'we get presents at Christmas' kind of answer? Had it been something more than a spur of the moment thing, or was Steve just going with the flow? And what did it mean that Steve was already gone when Danny woke up?

Also, at what point in the night had Danny turned into an insecure teenage girl?

No time to write in his diary and circle it with hearts, though. He could hear Charlie headed down the hall, louder than a herd of elephants.

Danny got up, shoving his hair back out of his face, but not bothering with a brush. He got into the living room just in time to see Charlie diving under the tree and pulling out all the things Santa had supposedly brought. Danny watched, still a little in awe to see his son playing there, totally healthy and happy.

"Hey."

Steve's voice in Danny's ear sent a little shiver down his spine. Danny turned, a smile firmly in place, one that became more real as he saw the mug of coffee Steve held out. "This is the best Christmas present ever," Danny said, taking a long drink.

"Really?" Steve asked. "I could think of a few others."

Was that a reference to their kissing last night? Or was Steve just being Steve and being arbitrary?

Also, was Danny going to have to go out and buy a diary? Because seriously.

"Uncle Steve!" Charlie called out from the middle of his toys, his hockey jersey on backwards and inside out. "You're here!"

"Yeah, I got a call that there was a break in over here and came to check it out, but it was just Santa."

"Did you see him?" Charlie asked.

Steve knelt down to pick up a toy Charlie had knocked over. "I did," Steve said. "He said to tell you hi, and thanks for being a good boy most of the year."

Charlie's eyes got huge. "Most of the year?"

"Well, he knew about the thing with the bike, but he decided to forgive you."

His eyes got even bigger. "How did he know?" Charlie asked in a near whisper.

"Santa knows everything." Steve ruffled Charlie's hair and sat down, crossing his legs, asking Charlie about the presents, as if Steve hadn't put them together himself.

He spared a glance for Danny, though, eyes bright, a full smile in place, before going back to paying attention to Charlie. Danny sat down on the couch and watched, drinking his coffee as fast as he could without burning his mouth.

Because of course, why should anything be weird? They'd only kissed. It wasn't like it was that big a deal. Clearly Steve didn't think it was.

And if he didn't, then Danny wouldn't either.

***

Chapter Text

Steve walked Adam out, calling to Eddie to follow along as they left the Five-0 offices. "Thank you," Steve told Adam again, as they reached the parking lot.

"I'm not doing it for you," Adam said.

"I know." Steve said goodbye and let Eddie into the truck before climbing in himself. He waited for Adam to pull away before leaving the lot, pointing his truck in the direction of Danny's house.

The porch light was on—whatever Danny might say about these almost nightly visits since he'd been hurt, he couldn't be too annoyed if he left the light on until Steve got there. Steve let himself in to find Danny kicked back on the couch, his feet on the coffee table.

He barely even winced as he looked over his shoulder at Steve, and just that little sign of normalcy in Danny's movement was enough to loosen a little of the rock-solid tension in Steve's shoulders. "Hey," Danny said, his attention shifting to his other side, where Eddie had rounded the couch to say hello.

Danny scratched behind Eddie's ears as Steve locked the door behind him. When Danny let go, Eddie padded down the hallway, where Steve knew he would find the dog in bed with Charlie when he was ready to leave.

Not that they'd exactly established a pattern. Eddie just knew where to find the warmest, most comfortable pile of human-heated blankets in any house. Well, at least he did in Steve and Danny's houses.

Steve felt Danny's gaze on him as he sat down, but Danny let him get comfortable before asking, "What did Adam say?"

"He said yes." Steve shifted on the couch to look at Danny a little easier without twisting his neck to the side.

"You must've been pretty convincing."

Steve shook his head. "I didn't even have to go into my whole speech. He agreed right away."

Danny nodded in that way that meant more that he was surprised than that he was agreeing with anything. "I would've thought he'd at least have some reservations about anything that would keep him from going to see Kono anytime he wants."

"I think it was partly because of her that he agreed so fast," Steve said. "A mission to match hers, maybe?"

"Or maybe he thinks if she gets wind of what he's doing she'll come back to protect him."

Which had also crossed Steve's mind. But he couldn't fix Adam and Kono, anymore than he could fix anything else out of his control. Something he had a harder time with some days than others.

"You get anything else on the shooters?" Danny asked.

Steve shook his head. "Nothing new. And I doubt I will."

"Yeah, doesn't sound like it." Danny was watching him carefully. "I know how you love loose ends."

Steve shifted again, sinking back into the couch and focusing on the TV. "You know what I don't love?" Steve said. "House Hunters."

For a moment he thought Danny might call him on the change of topic, but then Danny let out a long breath. "Yeah, well, then go back to your own house and watch your own TV."

Steve spotted the cookies on the table, leaning forward to grab two. "My house doesn't have cookies," he said, before he took a big bite.

"I would give you a doggie bag," Danny said, "but Eddie has better table manners, so I'm not sure you'd be allowed to have any."

The banter was warm and familiar, and Steve sunk into it the same way he did the couch, as he tried to ignore how the taste of the cookies always reminded him of how Danny's mouth had tasted when they'd kissed.

That was a dangerous road at any time, and much more so on the very same couch where it had happened.

Not that it made the cookies any less awesome.

"Hey, maybe we should make Eddie the mascot for the restaurant," Steve said, his mouth half full of cookies. "We could give out 'Eddie bags.'"

"You want to make a dog the mascot of a restaurant?" Danny's tone already said all the ways he wasn't having it, but he went on to explain them at length anyway. Steve joined in between cookies—he was going to have to up his exercise if Danny kept making them—not even sure which he was enjoying more.

Because this, this was how Danny made things better. This was why he missed Danny when he wasn't in the field. This was why he followed Danny into the restaurant business. This was why he'd kissed Danny that night.

Because he couldn't not do any of it.

Danny wasn't the first guy Steve had checked out. He wasn't even the first one Steve had fantasized about.

He was just the first one Steve had actually acted on.

He had no idea what that meant. And he was far too tired to figure it out right now. Right now he just wanted to soak in the warmth that was Danny's house, and Danny's cookies, and Danny, there beside him, giving him shit and taking none in return.

"I realize," Danny said, "that you're like a giraffe and an octopus rolled into one, but do you have to take up the whole couch?" Danny asked, poking at Steve's leg with his foot.

Steve shifted, managing to take up a little more space than before. "Better?"

Danny's sigh was long suffering, and Steve smothered a grin behind another cookie. They kept going into the next episode of House Hunters, when all the cookies were gone and the sound of cars going by outside was few and far between.

Danny's words were slurring a little, and Steve was starting to get a little too comfortable, when he finally shook himself and started to add some tension back into his body in preparation for getting up and going home. "I should get going."

"You can stay if you want," Danny said.

Steve still hadn't figured out why Danny made the offer every night when every night Steve declined. Not that he left because he didn't want to stay. No, he left because of how much he did want to stay.

"I should get home," Steve said, wondering if the cookies had already started causing him to gain weight, given how difficult it was to get off the couch. After all, Junior might wonder where Steve spent his nights. And Steve had a feeling the moment Junior mentioned it to Tani, she'd know. And she'd never let it go.

Steve pushed himself all the way to his feet. "I promised Junior an early morning race."

"Running in the morning." Danny's voice was very good at expressing his disgust at the thought.

"Nope, swimming."

"Even worse," Danny said with a small shudder.

Steve looked down at Danny for a long moment. "You okay?" he asked, nodding in the general direction of the wound he had far too vivid nightmares about.

"Yeah, barely even hurts anymore."

Steve had too much experience to believe that, but if Danny wanted him to think that, then fine. "Good." Steve snapped his fingers a few times and called for Eddie in a low voice. A moment later Eddie appeared from Charlie's room. "You should go to bed," Steve said as he rounded the couch.

"Yeah, I'm going to need my rest when I come back in a couple of days, I can already tell."

Steve couldn't deny that, so he just shrugged. "Night, Danno," he said, his hand on the door.

"Night."

***

Chapter Text

Danny pulled up to Steve's house and shut off the engine. The sudden silence made the inside of the car feel smaller. Danny grabbed the six pack off the passenger seat and got out, jogging to the front door. He didn't knock—Steve never did, even if the door was locked, so why should he?

Steve was on the couch, a basketball game muted on the TV. He looked up as Danny closed the door, though, a smile at the ready. "I didn't know Kona delivered," Steve said, nodding at the Longboards in Danny's hand.

"Only on certain days." Danny put the beer down on Steve's coffee table, then sat down beside him. "Did you eat?"

Steve nodded. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you want them. Junior went to visit a friend on the North Shore and won't be back until tomorrow, so there's plenty."

Danny shook his head. "I'm good." He'd have ordered takeout if Steve hadn't eaten, but since he had, Danny didn't have to pretend to be hungry.

Steve raised an eyebrow as he opened a Longboard. "You didn't come to eat my food or drink my beer?"

"Nope." Danny opened a beer. "There was nothing on TV, and I needed beer anyway, so when I went out to get some, I decided to come over here."

He left out the part where something about the way today's case had seemed to take more out of Steve than usual had bugged him to the point of needing to check up on Steve—not to mention that Danny kept seeing Tracy's father firing right at Steve every time he did more than blink.

It was clear Steve knew there was more to it than Danny was telling, but he didn't push. "Never let it be said I ever complained about free beer." Steve took a long drink and sat back, watching the game.

Except he wasn't. Danny could tell his attention was elsewhere. Probably the same place Danny's had been before he'd decided to come over. "Did you hear from Grover?" Danny asked.

Steve nodded, eyes still on the TV. "Brad has been checked into a hospital for observation."

"What about Grover?"

"He's home. With his family."

Which was the best place Grover could be, all things considered. Danny wasn't sure he'd want to leave home for a few days himself if his tale about the lowest point of his life, had been broadcast to half of HPD and SWAT.

But then Grover was much better about sharing that kind of thing to help others. Maybe that case was the reason why.

"This job is weird," Danny said, watching the Knicks turnover the ball.

Steve took another drink. "It's weird in a lot of ways. You're gonna need to be more specific."

"You talk to any cop for more than a few minutes and you're going to have your wild stories, and your similar cases," Danny said. "But you get to know one, and you'll eventually find out about the case. The one that changed them forever, and that either broke them, or made them a better cop." Danny took a drink. "Or both."

Steve shifted a little, his focus on Danny instead of the TV. "Grace was yours, yeah?"

Danny nodded, taking a long drink. "Losing her because of my stupidity, only surviving myself because of the horror at the Trade Center...that which doesn't kill us," he said, downing more of the beer.

Steve studied him for a long moment before he said, "You could say that, yeah."

"What about you?" Danny asked. "Hesse?" he guessed, when Steve didn't answer right away. He knew the bigger answer was probably his mother's non-murder, but that didn't really count. If it did, Danny's real one would be Billy Selway. But what made you, and what changed you as an adult, were two different things.

Steve tapped his index finger on the bottle for a moment, then took a drink before he answered. "Yeah. Though I think it was Freddie that was really the turning point, if I had to pick one."

He drained the rest of his bottle, placed the empty on the table and pulled another one from the pack. "The rules that forced me to leave him there, and the fact that I'd lost the closest thing I had to real family...everything about my reasons for driving myself so hard for the Navy didn't seem to matter as much anymore."

The look on his face was one Danny didn't quite recognize. "If I hadn't lost him before I chased Victor to Hawaii," Steve said, "my reaction the day I met you in the garage might have been a little different."

"You mean you might've actually shot me?"

Steve huffed a laugh, the small smile on his face disappearing quickly. "Dad's death changed a lot of things for me," he said slowly. "But I could've investigated it as part of the Hesse case without taking on Five-0. Would've had the resources and connections to manage it."

He studied the label on his beer bottle. "But Freddie had been there through everything. We didn't have partners in the SEALs, but he was the closest thing I had to one. And to a brother." Steve looked up at Danny. "And he was gone."

"So you picked the first guy you thought you could bully into helping you?" Danny asked.

Steve's laugh was stronger this time, the smile not fading completely. "I picked the one person I'd found that I knew could keep up," he said, his eyes holding Danny's as he took a drink.

The words warmed Danny. He took another drink and turned the conversation to the massacre happening on the basketball court on TV.

***

Consciousness pushed at the edges of sleep, and Danny pushed back, wanting a few more minutes feeling warm and safe in a world that was anything but. He shifted, frowning as he felt the pillow shift back.

The warm, six-foot plus, breathing pillow.

Danny opened his eyes to see Steve sleeping next to him, arms around Danny's waist, their legs tangled together, just like they had been at Christmas.

And really, it wasn't as if Danny hadn't had a few dreams about this, hadn't been inviting Steve to stay every time he'd been at the house since. He just hadn't really thought about what he might do if it happened. Maybe if he moved slowly and carefully, he could extricate himself before Steve woke up.

Right. Because that totally wouldn't be enough to wake the Navy SEAL trained to wake up if a flea fell off a dog a mile away, Danny realized, as his first attempt to pull his leg out from between Steve's earned him a frown and Steve's arms tightening around him, and his second had Steve opening his eyes, blinking rapidly, as if his computer brain needed a few seconds to come online.

The smile that crept onto Steve's face as he woke had Danny leaning in again, leg slotting back between Steve's as their lips met, warm and amazing as it had been at Christmas. Apparently the taste of beer was just as good as the taste of cookies when it came from kissing Steve.

Danny leaned back at last, just enough to break the kiss as he searched Steve's face. "Still not weird?"

Steve shook his head, nose barely brushing against Danny's. "Not weird," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

They exchanged a few more kisses before Danny needed to breathe, resting his forehead against Steve's collarbone as he caught his breath. He searched for something else to say, but before he could find it, he felt Steve slip back into sleep, his arms still tight around Danny, even as the rest of him relaxed.

Okay then.

***

Danny pulled the blanket around himself as he woke, frowning as he realized the blanket was nowhere near as warm as Steve had been. He opened his eyes, not surprised to find himself alone. The brightness of the sun, a cup of coffee on the table, and the sound of Steve's shower running in his room told him that Steve had already gotten up and had his morning swim, and it was probably close to time to go to work.

Danny sat up, still smelling Steve everywhere as he reached for the coffee. He took a few gulps, grateful that it was just the right temperature to drink fast without being too cold. He took the mug with him out to the car to get his spare clothes and made sure he was in Steve's guest shower before Steve came back downstairs.

By the time Danny came out of the bathroom, he could smell toast. He went into the kitchen to find Steve with a bowl of cereal. Another bowl was sitting on the island next to a plate of toast. "Sorry," Steve said, around his last spoonful of Cheerios, "we overslept. Not enough time for real food."

So much for worrying about things being awkward. Again.

Danny picked up a bowl, looking up at Steve to see a strange expression on his face, Steve's eyes focused on Danny's mouth. "Steve?" Danny prompted after a second.

"Sorry," Steve said, "you've got toothpaste...." He nodded, but instead of pointing it out, he reached out, his palm lightly pressed against Danny's cheek, as one thumb wiped at the corner of Danny's mouth.

Danny leaned into the touch, hypnotized by this...whatever it was, his mouth falling open just a little, cheek grazing against Steve's palm.

Steve stepped back, breaking the contact. The hum of the refrigerator suddenly seemed loud in Danny's ears, as did his own throat when he swallowed.

"Thanks," Danny said. He cleared his throat as he poured the first cereal his hands landed on. Steve cleaned up while Danny wolfed down his food, and then they were heading for their cars.

Danny could still feel the phantom touch of Steve's hand on his cheek as he drove off.

***

Chapter Text

Steve tilted his head to the side and leaned in, cheek almost pressing against the wood of the bar. The line was nearly perfect, but it still wasn't quite the finish he wanted, so he straightened, reaching to turn the sander on again.

A touch on his arm stopped him, and he turned to see Danny standing close enough that Steve could feel the warmth he seemed to radiate like a heater. "Are you going to be here all night?" Danny asked.

"At least a little while longer."

Danny studied him for a second. "You know you really are gonna wear the wood down to nothing one day."

Steve shook his head. "I'll finish before it's gone completely, I promise."

"Good, because that's not cheap wood, and I'm not paying to replace it if you sand it to death."

"Duly noted."

Danny was still giving him that sharp look, and Steve forced himself not to squirm under the scrutiny. "Sure you don't want to come have a beer instead of sanding that thing into submission?"

He did, in fact, want very much to go have a beer, and everything else that had every chance of happening after.

Which was why he was going to stay there and sand the bar.

"Maybe tomorrow," Steve said. Because he didn't want Danny thinking that he didn't want...well, any of it. Just not tonight.

Still with that look. "Okay," Danny said, finally, "but seriously, don't stay here all night."

"I won't." Steve looked at his watch. "I'll head out in about half an hour."

"Okay." Danny's hand slid across Steve's bicep as he turned to go. "See you in the morning, Sandman."

Steve gave him the expected laugh, watching Danny leave, not really hearing whatever he said, and absolutely not staring at his ass, or how good it looked in those jeans.

Okay, maybe he was staring a bit.

Which was part of the problem.

That Danny was attractive was old news—about seven years or so old. But since Christmas, Steve had been hyper aware of it. The handful of times they'd woken up on each other's couches and all the kissing and touching that had ensued had only underscored it. It should be weird. He should be freaked out by the kissing, and the way he feels this constant need to reach out and touch Danny.

Except he'd always had that almost constant need to reach out and touch Danny. And the kissing didn't really freak him out at all.

No, the only thing that freaked him out was how it didn't freak him out.

If it freaked him out, he could find reasons to avoid it. He could shove it all down and forget about it, because it was a giant, complicated mess that no one in their right mind would want to touch with a ten foot pole.

But then, no one had ever really accused Steve of being in his right mind.

And it wasn't freaking him out. He kept letting himself walk right into situations he knew would end that way, and he didn't even try to stop. Which was insane.

They hadn't discussed it, not once. Steve had no idea if Danny had done this before with other guys—and really, considering the sharp stab of jealousy that even the thought caused, he was probably better off not knowing. For all he knew, maybe to Danny this was normal, to just fall asleep with your best friend, wake up, make out, then pretend like nothing had changed. Like it was just something they did now.

Like it made no difference that they both had perfectly nice girlfriends they actually cared about.

Clearly it wasn't bothering Danny, because he kept offering. And Steve kept finding reasons to be okay with accepting, because for all that it was the strangest habit he'd ever fallen into, it wasn't the least bit strange.

And it wasn't a habit he really wanted to break.

***

"I think maybe we need to talk a little bit about some stuff."

Steve wasn't even sure what he'd said right after that. Most of his brain had frozen at the suggestion of talking about 'stuff.'

Because 'stuff' covered a lot, and there was a lot they weren't talking about.

He tuned back in quickly, though, only to realize that Danny was talking about bringing in another partner. Which...just...no. They were partners. They had a team with Five-0, people that they trusted. Ohana.

But the partnership was theirs alone, whether it was in the field or in the kitchen.

After all, you might have lots of friends and family, but you didn't invite a third person into your marriage.

He talked Danny down quickly enough and finished eating. They went over the list of tools they needed to replace, and then decided to call it a night.

"I'm gonna go home and watch the Devils' game," Danny said. "You want to come over and watch? I have beer in the fridge and everything."

"Sure," Steve said, the word coming easily, even as he knew full well where that would end up. "Do you want to lock the door on the way out this time, or should we just leave it open for someone to take what's left?"

"Keep it up and you won't get any of my beer."

Steve just rolled his eyes as he followed Danny out of the restaurant.

***

"The New Jersey Devils snapped a four-game losing streak with their 3-1 win over the Sabres Tuesday..."

Steve tuned out Scott Braun's voice, focusing instead on the way Danny fit so perfectly against Steve. They had no trouble getting comfortable on the couch—or as comfortable as a couch that was made for someone several inches shorter than Steve could be.

Still, there was something about the way the two of them fit together, the same way they'd just instantly clicked working together in the field.

Danny shifted, eyes opening slowly, that smile that always followed a few seconds behind one of the things Steve had trouble pushing to the back of his mind these days. Steve leaned in without having to think about it, kissing that smile off Danny's lips until Danny had Steve pressed back against the couch, his tongue thoroughly tasting the inside of Steve's mouth.

They separated at last, Danny's forehead warm and a little damp as it rested against Steve's throat. "I should get home," Steve said after a moment.

"It's the middle of the night." Danny's words tickled Steve's collar bone. "You should stay."

"I'm getting a crick in my neck from this couch."

"I have a bed." Danny tilted his head back to look at Steve. "It has two pillows and everything."

Which Steve knew, since he'd woken up in it Christmas morning. But they hadn't moved this to a bed since, only couches, and he wasn't really sure what that would mean. If anything.

Maybe it didn't have to mean anything at all.

"Okay," Steve said, because it was late, and he was tired, and the prospect of sleeping wrapped up in Danny was much more inviting than a late night drive home to sleep in his bed alone.

Danny turned off the TV as they got up. Steve followed him down to the bedroom, where Danny didn't even bother to turn on the lights. He just pulled the covers back and more or less fell into bed.

Steve laid down beside him, not quite sure how they should fit together when they had so much space, and there wasn't actually a physical space need requiring them to fit together as perfectly as they did on the couch.

Apparently Danny had no such issues. He rolled over, sliding back into Steve the same way they had been on the couch, his breath evening out quickly into sleep.

Steve wasn't far behind.

***

Bright sunlight poked at Steve's eyelids. He shifted, but Danny had him pretty firmly stuck in his current position, so Steve ducked his head, trying to shield his eyes from the light.

Danny stirred, and there was that smile again before their lips met. The taste and feel of Danny's lips was familiar now, but Steve still wanted more. More of Danny's mouth and more of the rest of him, as his hands drifted under Danny's shirt to map the hot skin across his back, dipping down until Steve's fingers dipped into the waistband of Danny's sweatpants.

Steve stopped before his hands could go any further, but Danny pressed even closer, his own hands moving their way down Steve's back. Steve let his hands slide down slowly, his knuckles brushing the waistband as he reached to palm that perfect ass he'd spent so much time checking out.

Danny's phone had Steve pulling his hands back, rolling onto his back and breaking the kiss, along with all contact with Danny's body. Danny rolled over to the other side to grab the phone, and Steve shivered a little with the sudden loss of warmth.

"Hey, Monkey," Danny said, rolling onto his back, that voice that sounded like pure affection that he used whenever Grace called. "How's it going?"

As Grace, and apparently Charlie, judging by Danny's end of the conversation, told Danny about their evening the night before, Steve got up, straightening his clothes until he felt like he was more or less presentable. He motioned toward the door and mouthed the word 'Later' in an exaggerated way so Danny would get the idea.

Danny frowned for a second, but he nodded, and Steve turned and walked out. His dick wasn't exactly on board with the idea of walking out, but his brain might be a little too happy for the excuse. He might've chosen this, but that didn't mean he had any idea what the hell he wanted.

And Grace and Charlie were an excellent reminder that he needed to be a little clearer on that before anything went too far.

***

Chapter Text

“I don’t know, Charlie.” Danny sat up on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his hair. “I’ll ask Uncle Steve if it’s okay.”

“He said we could come over anytime and swim.”

Danny switched the phone to his other hand. “I know. I’ll ask, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We have to go,” Grace said. “Mom is yelling up the stairs.”

Danny could hear that, but he kept his thoughts about that to himself. “Okay, be good for Mom. I’ll talk to you guys tonight, okay?”

They hung up in a chorus of “Love you, Danno!” that never failed to make Danny smile.

Danny dropped the phone on the bed beside him and went into the living room, and through to the kitchen, but as he’d figured, Steve was gone.

And Danny probably needed to get a move on if he wanted to get a shower in before work.

***

To look at Steve, sitting in his office, cool as a cucumber, you’d have thought he’d had a solid night’s sleep alone. Danny knew better, but if Steve wasn’t going to let on, neither was he.

After all, who knew what happened on those boats for months at a time with nothing but guys? Maybe this was normal for Steve. Maybe he didn’t think anything about it.

Maybe Danny shouldn’t either.

***

A knock on Danny’s office door was a welcome distraction from paperwork. Tani walked in without waiting for an invitation, wearing a look that told Danny nothing good was going to come of this conversation.

“So,” Tani said, as she dropped into the seat in front of Danny’s desk. “Junior mentioned McGarrett didn’t sleep at home last night.”

Shit. Danny gave her the blankest look in his repertoire. “And?”

She leaned forward a little, clearly catching the hint of a lead. “Any idea where he was?”

Danny shrugged. “Ask Lynn?”

Tani shook her head. “Lynn’s off island until next week.”

Dammit. Danny had known that. He’d really need to do better than this if he couldn’t even fool the rookie. Because he could tell he wasn’t fooling her. And it was too late to play the ‘he slept on my couch’ card. “Then ask McGarrett,” he said finally. Because she wouldn’t dare.

“Ha! I like my job, thanks.” She studied him, and he stared back unflinchingly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to get anything out of him. I mean, the guy is trained to withstand torture.”

Yeah, Danny was well aware of that, thanks. Had too many memories of what the aftermath of it looked like, too. “And you think you’re going to get something out of me?”

Too late, he realized he’d just given something up. She leaned back, smiling as she continued to stare at him. “That depends,” she said. “What is there to get out of you?”

“Nothing.” Because it was true. What happened was nothing. That much was clear.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not buying it.”

“Buying what?” Steve asked from the door.

Tani stood up. “Nothing,” she said quickly.

Steve looked at Danny, who shrugged. “I already forgot,” Danny said.

After a couple of looks between the two of them, Steve shook his head. “If I’m not interrupting anything, we have a case.”

Danny silently thanked the criminals of Honolulu and made a note not to get sent anywhere with Tani during the case.

***

“Will you put that thing over there?” Danny growled, resisting the urge to throw a screwdriver at Steve.

Steve gave him a look as he moved the sander. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing.” Absolutely nothing. Certainly not the fact that Danny couldn’t seem to stop inviting Steve over, or the way that Steve kept accepting more often than not. And it absolutely wasn’t the kissing. It wasn’t like Danny was both addicted to it and annoyed by it at the same time.

After all, it was all nothing, right? That was why they kept doing it, because it was nothing. It was also why Danny kept avoiding Tani’s knowing looks, because it was nothing.

“You’re cranky when you don’t sleep well,” Steve said. “You know that?”

“And whose fault is that?” Danny snapped. “You try fitting on a couch with a giant Cro-Magnon man. It’s a wonder you don’t suffocate me.”

“You know,” Vito said, from the doorway, “you two sound just like Eddie and Clara when they were moving into their house.”

Danny glared at Steve, but didn’t give Vito anything else to work with. Maybe if Danny kept his mouth shut, Vito wouldn’t think anything else of it.

***

Vito said nothing else about it, though he was a little quieter than usual as Steve and Danny drove him to the hotel. He seemed normal as he said goodnight, so Danny tried not to think about it as he jumped into the passenger seat and Steve headed off for Danny’s house.

“You want to come in and go over the list of what we need to get tomorrow?” Danny asked, as Steve pulled into Danny’s driveway.

Steve put the car in park and turned it off. “Sure.”

The living room seemed quieter than usual as Steve closed the door behind them. Danny dropped tiredly onto the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

The couch dipped, and Danny leaned into Steve’s warmth. “Give me a second,” Danny said. “I’ll get the list out.”

“You should get some sleep,” Steve said.

The warmth in Steve’s voice was every bit as good as the heat from his body, and Danny didn’t want to let him go. “No, I’m good. Just give me a minute.”

“Danny.” Steve put a hand on Danny’s shoulder, and Danny leaned into that, too. “We should both get some sleep before we pass out on the couch again and you’re even crankier tomorrow.”

Danny did, in fact, want sleep. He just didn’t want Steve to go. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, maybe I won’t,” Steve said.

Danny knew that was a lie—Steve fed off sleep deprivation like some people fed off sugar. Still, if he was saying it, then it meant he really was worried about Danny not getting enough sleep.

“Okay,” Danny said. “Sleep now, list in the morning?”

“At last he sees sense.”

Steve’s words were obnoxious, but the fondness in his voice matched the look on his face as Danny looked at him at last. “Shut up,” Danny said as he stood, pulling Steve off the couch with him. They rounded the couch, and Steve veered toward the front door, but a sharp tug by Danny on his hand pulled him toward Danny’s room instead.

Steve tugged on Danny’s hand, forcing Danny to stop in the hallway. “What?” Danny asked.

It wasn’t often he saw Steve at a loss for words. “I….” Steve cleared his throat. “I should go home.”

He was probably right. They were entering uncharted territory, intentionally going to sleep together, in Danny’s bed. But Danny was tired of dancing around this, and more than that, he was just tired. He just wanted to curl into Steve in a nice, comfortable bed and pass out for a while.

“We have to go through the list and go to the store in the morning before work,” Danny said. “It’ll be easier if you just stay here.”

It was thin logic, at best. But after a second, Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re right.”

Danny led Steve the rest of the way to the room, pausing long enough to strip down to his boxers before he fell into bed. After the thud of boots, and the more muted thud of some clothes, Steve laid down beside him.

Without a pause, Danny rolled over, pressed his nose to Steve’s collar bone, and fell asleep.

***

Danny fought consciousness, snuggling deeper into Steve’s arms and inhaling his scent. He might have an issue or two with Steve driving his car all the time, but he didn’t really mind getting into the driver’s seat at night and having that smell enveloping him.

As long as it wasn’t a day when Steve had managed to fall into a sewer or something, at least.

Steve’s arms tightened, and Danny looked up, watching as Steve’s eyes blinked open. That slow smile was pure magic, and Danny couldn’t help kissing it off of Steve’s lips.

It should have been awkward, waking up together after intentionally going to bed together instead of just falling asleep. But, like the kissing, it didn’t seem awkward at all.

Danny wondered if this was how Steve and Catherine had ended up together. Had they just started falling into bed until they were a thing without either one of them saying anything at all? Was the lack of talking about any of it why they didn’t make it in the end?

“Okay,” Steve said, between kisses, “you are thinking way too hard for this time of day.”

“Says the guy who likes to go for a five mile swim this time of day?”

Steve’s shrug felt fantastic when his arms were wrapped around Danny. “Swimming doesn’t require thought.”

Neither did kissing, apparently, so Danny went back to it, sliding a leg between both of Steve’s. The feel of Steve’s cock, hard and poking at Danny’s thigh, sent a shiver down Danny’s body, one that echoed through Steve’s.

Danny let his hands dip down into Steve’s shorts. The man’s ass felt even better than it looked, and Danny would’ve sworn that wasn’t possible. As Danny’s hands drifted closer to the middle, fingertips dragging just along the edge of Steve’s crack, Steve broke off the kiss, his lips nipping at Danny’s neck, wordless encouragement that let Danny dip his fingers down into that warmth slowly—

The ringing of Danny’s phone seemed louder than usual. Danny rolled onto his back, sucking in oxygen, his eyes closed for a moment, before he reached for the phone on the nightstand. Danny glanced at the screen and groaned.

“What?” Steve asked.

Danny showed him Bridget’s picture.

“Oh. Tell her I said hi.”

Like hell. There was no way Danny was admitting that Steve was in bed with him, not to Bridget. She’d be on a flight to Honolulu to grill Danny if he did.

“No. Be quiet,” Danny said, as he hit the accept button. “You know,” Danny said to Bridget, “we’re hours ahead of you. It’s the crack of dawn here.”

His voice cracked on the last word, as Steve’s finger traced the edge of Danny’s belly button. Danny smacked the offending hand away, despite wanting nothing more than to hang up and let Steve put his hands anywhere he wanted.

“Something wrong?” Bridget asked.

“No,” Danny said. “Why?”

“You sounded funny there for a second.”

“I don’t know what you—oof,” Danny said, as Steve rolled over him to get out of the bed. Danny watched him go into Danny’s bathroom, admiring that ass that he’d almost had his hands in the way he’d wanted for a while now.

“Danny?”

Right. Bridget. “Sorry, what?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I stubbed my toe.” Danny scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want?”

“Well, I’m calling because it was either me or Mom, so you’re welcome for that.”

Danny sat up. “What?”

“Yeah, I thought that might get your attention. Uncle Vito called Mom this morning to ask her if you and Steve are living together now.”

“What?” Danny took a deep breath and counted to five. “Where…I mean, why…why would he think that?”

“He told her you guys were talking about sleeping together.”

So much for thinking they’d gotten away with those comments. Danny counted to ten this time. “I made a crack at Steve last night,” Danny said, trying to play it off. “Uncle Vito must’ve misunderstood, that’s all.”

“Right.”

Bridget clearly wasn’t buying it, but before Danny could continue, he heard the toilet flush, and Steve came out of the bathroom. “Look—” Danny said.

“Are you talking to me in the john, Danny? Seriously?”

“No.”

Too late he realized his mistake. “Okay, then who just used your bathroom? Because the kids are with Rachel, and I seem to remember you saying Melissa was in Jersey visiting her family for two weeks.”

Steve sat down beside Danny on the bed, tracing the outside of Danny’s kneecap. Danny smacked at his hand—not that he had a problem with what Steve was doing, but Danny needed all the blood going to his brain for this conversation. “I flushed a bug down the toilet, Bridget.”

“Sure you did,” she said. Steve just raised his eyebrows, looking amused. He opened his mouth, but Danny clamped a hand over it before Steve could say anything. “If you’re done interrogating me,” Danny said to Bridget, “you can tell Mom to tell Vito that, while it’s no one’s business, Steve and I live in two completely different houses.”

There was a long pause before Bridget said, “Okay.” He could tell she wasn’t quite buying it, and somehow her contemplative tone was worse than before.

“Now, if you have nothing else to harass me about,” Danny said, “I need to get to work.”

“Sure.” There was definitely something off in her voice, but Danny didn’t have time to worry about it. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, later.” Danny hung up and dropped the phone on the nightstand before falling back onto the bed.

“What was that about?” Steve asked.

Danny sighed. “Uncle Vito called home to ask if you and I were living together.”

Steve snorted. “Are all families this nosy back in Jersey?” Steve asked. “Or just yours?”

“It’s an Italian thing,” Danny said. “Well, and an Irish thing. So I get it twice over.”

“Well, you have about five minutes to mope about it,” Steve said, getting off the bed. “Because that’s when the shower will be free.”

He went back into the bathroom and closed the door, apparently unconcerned that Danny’s entire family was wondering if the two of them were thinking about exchanging rings. Maybe it hadn’t hit Steve yet. Maybe he’d come back out and react.

Danny heard the shower start up.

Okay then, maybe not.

***

Chapter Text

Vito was so quiet on the drive to the hotel that Danny had to check the back seat several times to make sure he was still there. When they pulled up in front of the Hilton, Danny got out to let Vito climb out of the back seat.

Vito stood there for a second before saying, “I’m sorry for leading that guy to you.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You didn’t know.” Danny put his hand on Vito’s shoulder. “You wanna be sorry for something, be sorry for continually telling us this is gonna fail.”

Vito ducked his head. “Well, statistically speaking—”

“Get outta here,” Danny said, taking the joke for what it was—Vito’s attempt at normalcy.

“Night, kiddo.”

“Night.”

Danny got back in the car and Steve drove off. The ride continued to be silent, but when Steve pulled into Danny’s drive, he turned off the car and followed Danny into the house. Danny grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and brought them into the living room.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV, even though it wasn’t on. He took the beer from Danny, but didn’t turn his head as Danny sat down beside him.

“This is the first solid lead we’ve had,” Danny said. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look like someone just stole your favorite gun?”

Steve turned, looking at Danny at last. “What?”

“What’s with the face?”

“I don’t have a face.”

“You do, you have a face, and that face says, ‘I’m going to rip the arms off the next person who so much as looks at me wrong.’”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a moment, he said, “I know you got shot, and that’s way worse than watching it happen, but there’s a tiny part of me that feels like you were the lucky one. You don’t remember any of it. You were this close,” Steve held his thumb and finger almost together, “to dying, and I’ve gotten used to blood on my hands, but this was your blood, Danny, and there was so much of it.”

“I get it,” Danny said quietly. “You think I don’t wake up sometimes in a cold sweat from nightmares about how North Korea could’ve gone differently? Or Afghanistan? Or more times right here on Oahu than I really like to think about. I’ve had your blood on my hands, too, and watched you almost die. I gave you half my liver. So I get it, believe me.”

Danny shifted sideways a little, knee pressed against Steve’s thigh. “Why do you think I want out?” Danny said. “Why do you think I’m trying to take you with me?”

At Steve’s startled look, it was clear that he’d had no idea. It was just as clear that he had no clue what to do with the knowledge, either.

“Come on,” Danny said, as he got up and held out a hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Steve used Danny’s hand to pull himself off the couch, and left his hand in Danny’s as he followed him down the hall to the bedroom.

***

Steve ducked behind a car, bullets whizzing over his head a second later. He waited for a second of silence before rising up and taking out one of the shooters. Another few ducks and shots later and he got the last one.

“Danny!” he called out, but there was no response. “Danny?”

Steve looked over to the car Danny had dove behind when the shooting had started to see Danny lying on the ground on his back. “Danny!” Steve said, running over to see a growing pool blood under him. The source was clear—a gunshot just above his stomach.

“Danny,” Steve said, pulling out his phone to call 911. “Stay with me, all right?”

“Can’t,” Danny said, his voice weak. “Sorry…wanted to….”

The change was obvious. Steve had seen it too many times – someone alive, then suddenly gone. But not Danny. Danny was too full of life for that.

Except he wasn’t. Not now. His eyes were still open, but Steve looked into them, and Danny wasn’t there.

Steve jolted awake, sitting up and looking around. The room was dark, and it took him a second to remember where he was.

Right. Danny’s house. Danny’s bed.

Danny scrunched up his face before his eyes opened. “What’s wrong?” he asked, the words slurred a little, his voice hoarse, the way it was in some of Steve’s better dreams that he really didn’t need to be thinking about right now, in case he did something he couldn’t take back.

“Nothing,” Steve said in a near whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

“’m awake now,” Danny said, as he sat up. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why am I awake?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “You should go back to sleep.” He couldn’t stop looking at Danny, though, checking him over, looking for any sign that he might be about to sprout a spontaneous gunshot from the inside.

Danny frowned at him for a moment before leaning in to study Steve’s face. “You know,” Danny said at last, “I have nightmares, too.”

“I didn’t say anything about a nightmare.”

“Seriously?” Danny laid a hand on Steve’s cheek, using it to turn his head until he had no choice but to meet Danny’s eyes. “After all this you think you can hide from me?”

He should. Or he should at least try. But the dream was still fresh in his mind, and Danny was right there, warm and alive, looking at Steve like he knew every thought going through Steve’s head.

Steve leaned in, and Danny met him halfway, hand still on Steve’s cheek as their lips met. The warmth of Danny’s mouth was slowly chasing away the cold that had gripped Steve when Danny had died in the dream.

The kiss deepened as Steve pressed Danny back down onto the bed, covering Danny’s body with his own. The feel of Danny moving under him, hands on Steve’s ass, fingertips digging into the flesh there, was so different from the way things had seemed in the dream.

Steve wanted more, needed more to drive out the last remnants of the nightmare. He shifted until their cocks brushed against each other through fabric, even that much sensation sending electricity through his whole body with each little thrust.

Danny’s fingers were just this side of painful as they dug into Steve’s ass, and Steve pushed back into it, wanting bruises to feel and remember every time he sat down tomorrow.

The friction between them was getting Steve off faster than he’d like, but he couldn’t stop. He released Danny’s mouth in favor of being able to breathe, ducking his head into the joint of Danny’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the smell of Danny that was as familiar as home.

Danny thrust up hard, fingers digging in even more as he came. It brought Steve over the edge, everything going hazy for a minute as the pleasure subsided and Steve just lay there, breathing in Danny’s scent.

Steve shifted just enough for Danny to roll onto his back again, Steve draping himself over Danny at enough of an angle to avoid crushing him. Steve’s underwear was sticky and uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Didn’t want to let go.

Besides, Danny wasn’t complaining, so why should he?

He tucked his head into Danny’s neck and closed his eyes.

***

Chapter Text

“Yeah, that’s great, Vito,” Danny said. He switched the phone to his other ear and sunk back into the couch, closing his eyes. “We’ll stop by tomorrow morning and check it out, okay?”

“Sounds good, kiddo,” Vito said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Danny shoved the phone back in his pocket, enjoying the quiet for a few seconds until he heard Steve’s footsteps coming back in from the kitchen. He looked up to see Steve holding out a beer as he approached.

“Thanks,” Danny said. He took a long drink of the beer before closing his eyes again, tilting his head back to rest on the couch back.

The cushions beside him dipped, and then Steve’s warmth all along Danny’s side, even better than the beer. “The wiring is good?” Steve asked.

Danny nodded as he opened his eyes. “I told him we’d check it out on the way in tomorrow.” He took another drink, hoping that maybe it would dispel the last of the tightness that had been in his chest ever since they’d come across the gas earlier in the day.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

Danny shook his head, but after a second, he opened his eyes and looked at Steve. “They’re really sure that there’s no way we could be affected by the gas from the house, right?”

“Really?” Steve gave Danny that narrow-eyed look that made Danny’s fist ball up. “You’re fine. What are you worried for?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Steven. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever accidentally stumbled over a chemical weapon that almost killed me. It’s not like I know what it feels like to slowly lose the ability to breathe and think I’m going to die. Oh, wait! I do! I totally know what it’s like!”

Danny put his beer on the table a little harder than necessary, pushing off the couch to stand over Steve. “So excuse me if, after having been through that, and especially after having been almost killed by another biological weapon this year, I’m a little nervous when I find out we were walking around a house where an entire canister of a chemical weapon has been set off!”

He stalked off to his room and slammed the door. Before he’d even thrown himself on the bed, he already regretted the outburst. Well, he regretted it a little, at least. Not that it mattered, as he waited to hear the front door close as Steve left.

Instead of the door, he heard footsteps, followed by a soft knock on the bedroom door. Torn between his lingering annoyance, and feeling a little foolish, Danny didn’t answer. Not that it mattered, as a moment later, the door opened, and Steve took a few steps inside. “Are you done now?” Steve asked calmly.

Danny glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said are you done?”

The annoyance was winning out again. “Am I done?” Danny asked, rolling to his feet and stalking across the room. “Am I done?”

Dammit. He got close enough to see that fond look in Steve’s eyes, but it absolutely wasn’t going to stop Danny’s annoyance. He had every right to be—

“I’m sorry, okay?” Steve said.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny turned one ear towards Steve. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. What?”

"What, do you think the gas got your ears now?"

"No, it's just that I hear those words from you so rarely I like to get them repeated a few times when I do."

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fond look was still there, and it was starting to win Danny over against his will. "I'm sorry," he said again. "All that stuff you were talking about? I was right there with you, okay? You think I wouldn't be the first one to drag you to the hospital if I even thought there was a chance that there was something wrong?"

Well, no, Danny hadn’t actually considered that. “Oh,” Danny said. And maybe Steve was wrong, maybe the gas had affected Danny, because if it hadn’t, then the look on Steve’s face was the only explanation for the sudden tightness in Danny’s chest.

“Oh,” Steve repeated, the slight mockery in the tone mixed with so many other things Danny couldn’t pick them all apart.

They were all good, though, as was Steve’s mouth as it slid over Danny’s, and his hands as they dipped down to grip Danny’s ass, driving him back toward the bed with a singular focus that Danny suddenly appreciated very much.

***

Danny banged on the doors and walls of the van, but it was no use. He was trapped, chlorine gas filling his nose, his mouth, his lungs. He tried to cough it out, but he just breathed in more. His vision started to blur, as his chest tightened, no oxygen left to breathe in—

Danny sat up in bed, gasping for air, the phantom burn of the gas still irritating his lungs, even if it wasn’t real.

Steve’s hands were real, though, warm and solid on Danny’s shoulders, anchoring him in a reality where he wasn’t suffocating to death. Where he was safe in his own bed, Steve there beside him. Always there.

Danny had half expected Steve to be gone the morning after they’d finally had sex. Or at least the tame version of sex they sometimes had, which was little more than rubbing one off against each other, and yet so much more complicated than that.

But Steve had been right there, and he’d given Danny a kiss. Then he’d gone and gotten ready for work.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice low and a little rough, the way it always sounded in the middle of the night. Danny had heard it often enough. It wasn’t like their sharing a bed, was an uncommon thing by now. Nor was the sex.

Which, Danny was sure, would come as a surprise to the women they were both still dating.

If Lynne or Melissa had noticed that Steve and Danny were always unavailable on the same nights, they hadn’t said anything. Then again, maybe they’d noticed. Hell, maybe they knew what was going on and just didn’t care.

Maybe Danny was the only one who thought any of it was weird.

“Danny?”

Steve’s voice was louder now, a little more worried, and Danny looked up, barely able to make out Steve’s eyes in the moonlight. “Sorry,” Danny said. He cleared his throat. “Nightmare.”

“I figured.” Steve ran his hands down Danny’s back and arms in slow soothing strokes, the movement making him boneless and hard all at the same time.

It would be so easy just to lie back down, to let Steve keep soothing him with his hands and his mouth, and just make everything else go away for a while. So easy, like it was…well, not like it was nothing, because that wasn’t the right word.

Like it just was.

Danny looked up at Steve. “What are we doing?”

“Well, I was trying to sleep—”

“No, stop. Don’t do that.” Danny shifted, facing Steve. “What are we doing?”

Steve’s hands tightened on Danny’s arms, the difference in pressure so faint that Danny doubted Steve even knew he was doing it. “I don’t know,” Steve said, after a moment. “Do we have to analyze it? Can’t we just figure it out along the way?”

And if they left a trail of collateral damage in their wake? Or worse—if they lost themselves along the way? “I don’t know.”

Steve’s hands tightened a little more. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Danny said immediately, and Steve’s grip loosened a bit. Danny didn’t want to stop. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, exactly, but he knew what he didn’t want, and he didn’t want this to end.

He also didn’t want to push this anymore, not in the middle of the night, and not with Steve’s hands all over, and Danny’s dick already halfway straining towards Steve.

Danny leaned in, mouth finding Steve’s with practiced ease, pulling him down onto the bed, Steve’s body covering Danny’s in heat. Danny pushed his hips up into Steve’s, but after only a few thrusts, Steve broke the kiss, lips trailing down Danny’s neck and torso.

Only when Steve’s mouth reached the waistband of Danny’s boxers did he realize what was going on. Danny squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the sheets to keep from reaching out and gripping Steve instead as Steve pulled Danny’s boxers carefully over Danny’s straining dick.

He waited for Steve’s touch, but there was nothing. After a moment, Danny opened his eyes to see Steve watching him. When Danny met his eyes, the corners of Steve’s mouth turned up. “Just making sure you were with me.”

Like Danny had ever really been anywhere else for years?

He couldn’t stop watching now, though, as Steve bent his head, sliding his lips over Danny’s dick. The first touch of warm, wet heat sent shivers through every muscle in Danny’s body. The sight of his dick disappearing into Steve’s mouth only seemed to amplify the shivers, until Danny thought he might break apart.

Steve lifted his head, the cool air a whole different sensation on Danny’s wet dick, before Steve slid his mouth down again, repeating the slow up and down over and over, eyes darting up to Danny’s face every time, as if Steve wanted to make sure Danny was still with him.

And that, that right there, that was hotter than any practiced tease ever could have been. Danny had had his share of blow jobs, and from girls who’d known their way around a dick. But he was certain he could get one from the best prostitute in the world and it wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as the slow, careful attention Steve was currently paying him.

The tension was building in Danny’s balls, in his legs and up through his stomach, so much building that Danny wasn’t sure he’d be able to take the fallout. Steve kept up his slow, steady rhythm, up and down, eyes on Danny’s as Danny’s dick kept disappearing into that mouth that Danny would never, ever be able to look at and not think about this again.

He was close, and he managed to get out a strangled, “Steve, I’m gonna—” before he thrust up. Steve pulled back just in time, his hand replacing his mouth around Danny’s dick, the only anchor Danny had as he lost himself in a haze of pleasure.

It felt like ages before Danny was able to open his eyes to see Steve, sitting on his knees, stroking himself, eyes still on Danny’s face. A moment later Steve came, his body a long line of hard muscle as he coated Danny’s thigh.

Danny’s dick twitched, but he was well past the age when he could get it up again that fast. Steve slumped over for a moment before lying down on his back beside Danny, the sweaty heat of his body somehow more comfortable than anything where it pressed against Danny’s side.

He didn’t have the words for this. They’d never actually gone so far as to get their clothes off completely, only felt around underneath them like a couple of teenagers, groping and getting off without actually getting naked, and Danny had no idea what to say, or what it meant that they’d gone from about five miles per hour to 90 in one go.

Steve was still, too still, as if he was waiting for some kind of explosion. After a moment, Danny felt around beside him with his hand, finding Steve’s, lacing their fingers together. Steve went even more still for a second before rolling onto his side. He slid one leg over Danny’s and buried his head in the crook of Danny’s neck.

Maybe this didn’t need words, at least not yet.

***

Chapter Text

Danny got halfway down the hall before he turned around to—what? Suggest dinner, maybe? More trips down a memory lane better left forgotten for Brooke, certainly. Maybe for both of them. Most likely for both of them, if he was honest.

But he turned anyway, to find the hallway empty and her door closed. Not that he couldn’t go back and knock, just like he could’ve gone back and suggested dinner all those years ago. But he hadn’t then, and he’d never figured out why.

He looked at the closed door one more time before turning back around and heading for his car.

***

Of course Rachel didn’t have Charlie ready. Everything was always on her terms, including not bothering to look at the clock if she had to pack Charlie’s bag.

He wasn’t going to get annoyed, though. Not in front of Charlie. As long as he had his son there, a welcome, heavy weight on his hip, he wasn’t going to complain.

That he almost missed out on this was one of the many insomnia-inducing thoughts that hit him in the middle of the night. You wake up with the thought that if your son hadn’t almost died, you’d never have known about him, that’s not something that lets you sleep easily.

He’d hated Rachel for that at first. Sometimes he still did. But then, everyone made choices in the moment that they had to live with the rest of their lives. He’d walked away from Brooke years ago and run smack into Rachel. Or, rather, she’d run into him. If he’d stuck around, had one more date with Brooke, maybe they’d have never met. Wouldn’t have Grace or Charlie.

The look on Rachel’s face as she invited him in reminded Danny so much of the day they’d met that it was jarring. One more in the long line of déjà vu experiences that day.

She held out the Pete the Cat book, which suddenly seemed a little less innocent than it had a second ago. “Why don’t you come in and finish it with him?”

He never passed up a chance to read to his kids. And he had to wait for her to pack anyway. So he followed her into the house and settled into the couch with Charlie to read.

They’d just finished the last page when Rachel came back, Charlie’s suitcase in hand. “You know,” she said, as she put the bag on the floor, “you could stay for dinner.”

He could stay for dinner. He could go down that same road he’d taken the last time he’d left Brooke, the same road he’d taken when Matt had run away. One road had brought him Grace, the other Charlie, but neither had brought him happiness with Rachel.

Lies and pain, yes, especially when he’d been there for the birth of his son, thinking the whole time how he’d missed out on this, how it should’ve been his. And she’d kept quiet, even after all that.

“No, we have dinner plans,” Danny lied, as he stood.

Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. “Oh. Some other time, then?”

“Yeah.” Danny picked up the suitcase. “Tell Mom goodbye,” he told Charlie, who hugged his mother, and then took Danny’s hand.

They left Rachel’s house without looking back.

***

Danny took Charlie to Side Street before heading home. Steve’s truck was sitting in front of Danny’s house as he turned the corner. By the time Danny pulled into the drive. Charlie was practically jumping up and down in the seat, and Danny had to remind him to stay put until the car stopped before getting out.

As soon as the car shut off, Charlie jumped out and ran for the house. Danny grabbed Charlie’s suitcase and followed more slowly. By the time he got into the house, Steve was swinging Charlie around the living room.

Danny put the suitcase down by the hallway, watching how carefully Steve put Charlie back on the ground, making sure his feet were solid before letting go. “Hey,” Danny said to Charlie as he nodded at the suitcase. “Take your stuff to your room.”

Charlie grabbed the suitcase and ran down the hall, wheeling it along beside him. “I wish I had a fraction of his energy,” Danny said, as he walked around the couch to drop down onto it.

“Tell me about it.” Steve’s voice was the kind of raspy that Danny recognized from their longer days, though it sounded like that more frequently of late. Steve took the other end of the couch. “How was Brooke?”

“Young,” Danny said. “How is it that she hasn’t aged and I feel fifty years older?”

“Time is relative.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Thanks, that helps a lot,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brings you over here?”

“I promised Charlie I’d help him put together his model ship, remember?”

“Right, sorry.” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the headache he could feel coming by sheer force of will.

Steve’s hand was warm on Danny’s arm as he said, “You okay?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Charlie’s footsteps pounded down the hall a moment before he appeared, the model box in hand. “Can we put it together now, Uncle Steve?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Steve asked. He joined Charlie on the floor, and a moment later they were sorting through parts.

There were dishes to put away, and Charlie’s clothes probably should be taken out of the suitcase, and since Steve was there, Charlie was safe. There was no need to stay and watch.

Danny settled into the couch and watched the model ship take shape.

***

Charlie insisted that Steve tuck him in, the new model now proudly displayed on the bedside table in Charlie’s room. Danny watched from the doorway, getting his own goodnight in before they turned off the light and went back to the couch in the living room.

“Anything interesting happen today?” Danny asked.

“You could say that. Adam got arrested for murder.”

“What?” Danny winced, glancing down the hall and lowering his voice before he continued. “You could’ve called me—I could’ve helped.”

Steve waved a hand. “He was framed. We got him out of it. He’s home now.”

“Who framed him?”

“Well,” Steve said, “that’s the interesting part. Apparently he has a half-sister.”

Danny blinked at him. “One day,” he said. “I’m gone one day and Adam gets arrested for murder and finds a half-sister?”

“We haven’t found her yet,” Steve said. “Adam had no clue, so we’ve got nothing to go on.”

Danny knew that tone, and he knew Steve would be searching with that single-minded focus of his until they did have something to go on. “But we will,” Danny said.

“Yeah.” Steve shifted on the couch to face Danny, their knees bumping in the process. “So what happened with Brooke?” Steve asked. “Other than the fact that she still looks young.”

“We…dealt with Ray,” Danny said. “And I don’t think I’ll be going swimming in that part of the ocean for a few days, at least.”

“You dumped a body and didn’t call me to help?”

Danny laughed at how put out Steve sounded. “Ashes,” Danny said. “Just ashes.”

“Oh.” He only sounded slightly less put out. “That all that happened?”

“We just talked,” Danny said. “It was…I don’t know. You make choices in your life, you know? And you don’t really think about what they might mean later, but then you look back and you realize how much different your life would be if you’d made a different choice.”

“Different doesn’t mean it would be better,” Steve said. “You don’t know what it would have been like.” He leaned back into the corner of the couch, a move most would think meant he was getting comfortable, but Danny knew better. That move was classic Steve making sure there was a solid defense at his back. “If my mother hadn’t faked her death, if Dad hadn’t sent me and Mary away…I don’t know who I’d be. Am I supposed to wish all the people I’ve helped dead or their lives ruined so I could be an accountant in Kansas or something?”

As if Steve would be anything but a superhero. It was in his DNA. But then again, he was who he’d been made by his influences as much as anything.

“Life isn’t a choose your own adventure book, Danny,” Steve added. “You don’t get to read the endings first and you don’t get do-overs. You do the best you can as you go along and you make the best of the circumstances you have. If you’re lucky, you end up not hating yourself. If you’re really lucky, you end up with people who care as much about you as you do about them.”

Danny cleared his throat. “That’s, uh…that’s beautiful,” he said dryly. “You read that on a motivational poster somewhere?”

Steve laughed softly. “Jerk.”

Danny gave him a small smile as he stood. “Come on,” Danny said, pulling Steve to his feet. “Charlie will be up at the crack of dawn and I’m too old for coffee to be enough to deal with his energy without some sleep.”

The easiest decision he’d made all day was pulling Steve down the hallway to bed.

***

Chapter Text

Steve was halfway home from Nolani’s office when Danny called. “Hey,” Steve said. “Everything okay with the fire inspector?”

“I don’t know yet,” Danny said. “What happened with the guy? I heard there were bodies or something?”

Steve took a long breath and blew it out slowly. “I’ll tell you at my house over beer and steaks,” he said finally.

After a second, Danny said, “Okay. See you there in a few?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

***

The house seemed quieter than usual when Steve got home. He left his shoes by the door and made a detour through the kitchen for some beers before heading out to the beach. The sun was falling rapidly, painting everything in shades of orange and gold as Steve stared out at the horizon.

He’d barely made it through half a beer when he heard the door to the lanai open and shut. Danny dropped down in the other chair a moment later, accepting the beer Steve held out wordlessly.

“Where’s Junior?” Danny asked.

“North Shore.” Steve took a drink. “Apparently he lost a bet to Tani and had to take her to Haleiwa Joe’s.”

“That’s one way to get a date, I guess.”

Steve smiled a little as he took another drink.

“So what happened with the guy?” Danny asked after a moment. “How’d he know your dad?”

Steve took a longer drink. “He was a hit man,” Steve said, turning his head to look at Danny.

“For who, the senior mafia?”

Steve shook his head. “No, years ago. Dad knew the guy killed a cop. Wasn’t ever able to prove it, but he hounded that guy for years.”

“So what did he want with you?”

“To confess.” Steve finished off the beer and opened a new one, turning his attention back to where the sun was disappearing into the sea. “Apparently one McGarrett was as good as another to him.”

“So, what, he just named all his victims?”

“Better,” Steve said. “He took me to every grave.”

Danny was silent for a long moment. “Let me guess,” he said eventually. “He’s dying.”

“He is,” Steve said. “And I’m sure he got some kind of closure out of this, which pisses me off.” Steve took another drink. “But it was worth it,” he said. “It was worth the whole thing.”

He turned back to Danny. “Noalani managed to notify most of the families by the time I got to her office,” Steve said. “They were there when I left. They thanked me for the closure.”

“That’s good, right?” Danny asked.

Steve nodded. “When I was in the Navy,” he said slowly, “I went in and out of places as quietly as possible. Most of the time no one knew who I was or what I did, let alone thanked me. I opened more wounds for people than I ever really closed. This job...I mean, today was special because it was almost like working with Dad, but even on a normal day, this job, what we do for people…how can you give that up?”

Danny seemed to consider his words for a moment before he said, “Because I don’t ever want to be that case some other cop has to give my family closure for. I don’t want to be a file my kids look at, or a picture they remember me by. I don’t want to be the empty seat at a table that gets toasted at Grace’s wedding. And every day I do this, I get one step closer to that possibility.”

It made sense. Steve had known that deep down, had let it drive him into the business with Danny. Because he wanted to be there for Danny, no matter if it was out in the field or back in the kitchen. And if that meant leaving the job for a restaurant, he was willing to do it.

He would protect Danny to his dying breath. But he would rather live, see Danny’s kids grow up, watch Danny be a success at the restaurant business, and have a hand in all of it.

What that meant…was something he didn’t need to figure out right now. Not when Danny was there, with that look on his face, the one that made Steve think that maybe, just maybe, there were things other than duty in life.

Steve stood and held out his hand. Danny had a small frown as he took it, but it cleared as Steve pulled him to his feet and close against Steve, their lips meeting, easy in a way nothing else had been all day.

Steve broke the kiss, lifting his head just enough to meet Danny’s eyes. “You want dinner?” he asked.

Even in the moonlight, the light in Danny’s eyes was bright and warm, and Steve leaned into it as Danny said, “Maybe later,” and pulled Steve back into the kiss.

He wasn’t sure which one of them started moving up to the house, he only knew that it was difficult to get up the stairs while kissing. They made it to the bed, though, the rest of their clothes dropping beside the bed until they were naked and on the bed, pressed tightly against each other, as if they could get even closer if they just pushed hard enough.

Steve broke the kiss to trail his lips and tongue down Danny’s body, mapping the different textures and tastes as he went. Smooth hair combined with the goose bumps that covered Danny’s skin giving way to the sharp edge of bone at Danny’s hips that lead to the one place Steve wanted to be right now.

Danny wasn’t the first guy Steve had been with, but the list was short, and Steve hadn’t had the time or the inclination to make a study of the best ways to get any of the others off. Danny, though…Steve wanted to spend a lot more time than was probably sane learning all the different noises he could coax out of Danny.

He’d watched carefully that first time, caught between needing to reassure himself it was real, that it was really Danny under him, and wanting to know every single move he could find that would bring Danny to the edge and beyond. And it had been amazing.

This time, though, Steve wanted to memorize the taste and feel of it all, to store it up in case he needed it someday. He still watched Danny’s face, though, as Steve slowly slipped his mouth down over Danny’s dick. Danny’s expression was something Steve never wanted to forget.

The taste of Danny like this was another memory Steve locked away to keep, as was the smooth hardness of Danny’s dick under Steve’s tongue, the way it jumped when Steve hit just the right spot under the head. And the way Danny’s breath caught, how Steve could practically hear the sheets straining under the grip Danny had on them, those were sounds he wanted to hear more often. A lot more often. Like all the time.

The realization should’ve been a surprise, but instead it felt like something he should’ve known a long time ago. Had known a long time ago, on some level. Steve waited for the fear, that thing that had kept him from going too far down a path with Catherine for so long, to claw at his stomach, but clearly it was sleeping or something, because it didn’t come.

Danny, though, Danny was close to coming, his hips moving in and out of Steve’s mouth, breaths coming in short gasps that held words that almost sounded like Steve’s name, if Steve listened closely enough.

“Fuck, Steve,” Danny’s hand flopped onto Steve’s head, “I’m gonna…”

Steve didn’t move, ignored the warning as Danny thrust up a few more times and came, the taste a much stronger version of what Steve had sought out in the first place. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, and Steve coughed a little as he let Danny go, wiping his hand across his mouth as he looked down at Danny, uncertain for the first time in all of this what he should do next.

“Come here,” Danny said, tugging on Steve’s hand to pull him down to the bed. Steve fell onto the bed on his side, and Danny rolled over to face him, leaning in for a long, deep kiss. “You are something else,” Danny said against Steve’s lips, using one leg to pull Steve closer as they kissed again.

Steve’s dick was trapped between them, the sweat and heat combined with the friction and the taste of Danny still on his tongue getting Steve off in a hurry.

They lay there for a long time after, pressed together, trying to remember how to breathe. Unbidden, Danny’s question from weeks ago came to mind.

What are we doing?

Steve had yet to come up with a good answer—partly because he avoided it, if he was honest. But mostly because he didn’t have words for any of this. Only feelings—like colors and emotions, vague shapes that he couldn’t quite define. Words hadn’t seemed important, not when Danny seemed to read Steve’s mind most of the time anyway.

But maybe, just maybe, he should try looking for a few of those words.

***

Chapter Text

Steve hung up the phone, still looking at Adam, who looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. It could just be because he was going to see his wife soon. Maybe that was all it was.

Or maybe he knew his family was safe now because he’d been the one to kill Nariko.

And if he had, could Steve blame him? Nariko had threatened all of Adam’s family—who happened to be some of Steve’s closest family, too. When Reyes threatened Grace, Danny had put a bullet between his eyes. And if he hadn’t, Steve would have.

How could he fault Adam if he’d done the same?

Steve was halfway to the table when his phone buzzed with a text message from Danny.

Just dropped Charlie and Grace off. On my way over.

Steve shoved his phone back in his pocket as he reached the side of the table. “Sorry to eat and run,” he said, “but something just came up.”

“Is it a case?” Tani asked, already putting down her drink, but Steve shook his head.

“Nope, stay put. Enjoy the food. I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.” He leaned down to give Cath a hug. “Thanks for dinner.”

She nodded, even as he could see the faint frown she couldn’t quite hide. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Anytime.” And he meant that. Even if they weren’t a thing anymore, he was always happy to help on a case. He just had more important things to do now that the case was over.

As he turned to go, Steve caught the expression on Junior’s face. The morning after Danny stayed at Steve’s, Steve had come out of his room to find his and Danny’s shirts hanging neatly over the bannister. Junior had, predictably, said nothing, not to Steve, and not to Tani—or Tani would’ve been all over it.

But Steve couldn’t help noticing how Junior watched both of them now.

It wasn’t as if Steve hadn’t known Junior would be home that night. And he might’ve been focused on getting Danny into bed, but he hadn’t been so far gone that he hadn’t considered it on some level.

Maybe he was just tired of caring.

Catherine’s comments on their relationship had hit home. They had been better friends than lovers, and becoming lovers had slowly eroded their friendship, even before they’d broken things off. They were still friends, but the trust they’d had before would never truly be whole again.

The last few months with Danny…they were closer than ever. Stronger than ever. Danny challenged him in ways Catherine never would have considered, but had his back every single time. He never, ever had to wonder if Danny was being honest, and he never had to worry that Danny would desert him.

And maybe once Steve figured out what all that meant, he’d know what words to use to talk to Danny about it.

***

Danny paced the length of Steve’s living room for the twentieth time. When he’d gotten Grover’s text that Catherine was back, he’d been tempted for just a moment to take Charlie and Grace back early and get his ass to HQ.

He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. His kids came first. But the urge had been there nonetheless. He’d wanted to protect Steve from whatever damage she was there to inflict this time. Silly, really—Steve wasn’t just a grown man, he was a Navy SEAL. He could protect himself from anything.

When the next text from Grover said Steve and Catherine had gone to that island to find depleted uranium, the urge to drag Catherine into the rendition room and keep her there until she understood a few things nearly drove Danny to crush his phone. She had the whole CIA to call on, and she had to take the guy with radiation poison on a hunt for uranium?

Yeah, okay, maybe he’d still like to take her into the rendition room for a few strong words.

When he’d finally gotten the text that Steve was back safe and more or less sound, Danny just wanted Catherine to go before she could cause any more damage. He’d ignored the text from Steve about dinner because he still hadn’t gotten over that urge to have a little talk with her.

They’d already given Junior enough ammunition about what they were up to—he didn’t need everyone else figuring out yet, especially when he and Steve hadn’t actually figured anything out. And if he went to that dinner, someone would figure it out.

There were drawbacks to most of your friends being detectives.

The door opened, and Steve walked in, alone—thank God. “Hey,” he said, dropping his keys next to the door. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Danny folded his arms over his chest. “’What’s up?’ he says. Oh, I don’t know, Steve. Let’s see. Charlie wants to be an astronaut. Grace wants a tattoo. Oh, and you went out to some remote island to add to your radiation poisoning.”

“Danny—”

“Don’t ‘Danny’ me! I wonder what your doctor would think of you running around playing with uranium.”

“Depleted uranium is 60% less radioactive than—”

“Ahahah!” Danny held up a finger. “You do not get to speak until I am done. And, by the way, since you did speak, I would like to point out that 60% less radioactive is still radioactive, Steve.” Danny moved closer. “Radioactive,” he repeated. “As in a really bad thing for anyone, but especially to those people who already have radiation sickness. And I can’t even—”

He stopped cold, spotting the marks on Steve’s neck. “What the hell?” Danny reached up to drift a finger over the bruising, swallowing as Steve shivered at the touch. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, Danny.”

The softer raspy quality to Steve’s voice had a more sinister tone now that Danny knew it was due in part to this. “Tell. Me.”

“One of the guys got the jump on me. He’s dead now. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

So then what looked like the imprint of a thumb actually was one. Danny dropped his hands before he did something rash, clenching them into fists by his sides. “What else?”

“I’m fine, Danny.”

“What else?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m a little banged up, that’s all. But I’m fine.”

He did, in fact, look pretty good, considering the shape they’d been in after some cases in the past. But it didn’t matter how he looked. It mattered how he was. “Banged up?”

“Some bruises.”

“Show me.”

Steve took a deep breath before he nodded this time. “Okay. But upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

Steve nodded again, heading for the stairs. Danny followed to Steve’s room, closing the door behind them. Steve turned around and started unbuttoning his shirt. The sight of Steve’s collarbones distracted Danny for a second, until he got a good look at the bruise blossoming across the top of Steve’s transplant scar.

No. Just no. Those scars were theirs and no one else’s. No one was allowed to mark them.

Danny took a few deep breaths before meeting Steve’s gaze, worried and raw, like he was waiting for Danny to scold him. Like it was Steve’s fault he was so noble and selfless and always wanted to go on every case, no matter what the personal cost.

It wasn’t Steve’s fault. It was who he was, and accepting that was part of loving him, even if it sometimes drove Danny crazy.

Like now, when he looked at the bruises marring something that had become a symbol of who he and Steve were to each other. Danny reached out, fingers tracing the edge of the bruise, feeling the goose bumps rise on Steve’s chest.

“What happened?” Danny asked.

“One of them hit me with the butt of a gun.” Steve’s voice was even more hoarse now. Danny’s eyes flicked up to the bruises on Steve’s neck, before returning to the larger one on his chest. “I’m fine,” Steve said. “Barely even hurts.”

From the guy whose pain tolerance was so off the charts that a severed limb might merit a six. On a bad day.

Right.

Steve shivered as Danny drew his finger over the top of the long scar that ran down the middle of Steve’s chest. Danny let his finger drift down the length of the scar, glancing up to find Steve watching its progress intently.

Danny leaned in, kissing the top of the scar, claiming it back from the bruise with his tongue slowly, inch by inch. Steve’s abdomen contracted sharply as Danny continued tasting below the scar, dropping to his knees as he reached for Steve’s fly.

The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet room, as was the catch in Steve’s breath, as Danny shoved Steve’s pants down. He lowered Steve’s underwear a little more carefully, mindful of the hardness inside. Steve’s dick curved up, just a few inches from Danny’s mouth. Unable to resist the invitation, Danny let his lips slide around the head, taking the tip inside before letting it go.

Steve swayed a little, and Danny put his hands on Steve’s hips, looking up to make sure Steve was okay. Steve’s eyes were dark, his mouth slightly parted, with the tantalizing view of his tongue as it snaked out to wet his lips. That laser focus Danny was so familiar with was one hundred percent zeroed in on Danny, and hey, look, there was a turn on he didn’t even know he’d had.

Danny circled the head of Steve’s dick with his tongue, watching Steve’s face go slack. Steve’s hands were anything but, though, finding their way into Danny’s hair and gripping just on the right side of painful.

Taking the encouragement, Danny slid his mouth down over Steve’s dick again, taking him a little deeper. He could swear he heard Steve’s fingers creak with the tightly clenched fists in Danny’s hair, as a low moan rumbled out of Steve’s chest.

Steve’s hips were rock solid under Danny’s hands, the muscles straining with the effort to stay still. That wouldn’t do—he wanted that loss of control, wanted to see what Steve was like when he completely let go. Danny reached around, caressing Steve’s ass before tugging it forward.

For a moment, Steve went even impossibly more still, and Danny pulled him in again, lowering his mouth further, the invitation as clear as it was going to get. Then Steve got with the program, rolling his hips in a way that felt amazing, from the slide of his skin against Danny’s hands, to the way his dick felt gliding across Danny’s tongue.

Danny hollowed his cheeks, providing more pressure, and was rewarded with a faster pace, Steve’s hips jerking in and out now, but still controlled, still taking too much care not to go too far.

Fuck that. Danny didn’t want control. Wanted the complete opposite, in fact, wanted Steve to trust him enough to completely let go and know that Danny could take whatever came as a result. His hand drifted to the middle of Steve’s ass, fingers probing until they found their target, one finger slipping inside Steve’s ass.

Steve’s hiss was accompanied by a jerk forward so hard it almost knocked Danny over. Almost. Danny steadied himself, sliding his finger in and out as Steve’s hips thrust with no control whatsoever, completely lost under Danny’s mouth and hands until Steve came hard, dick straining inside Danny’s mouth, far enough down that Danny got the feel more than the taste of Steve’s come on his tongue.

Danny swallowed, his own dick throbbing painfully as Steve’s slipped out of Danny’s mouth and out of his grip, and Steve’s knees buckled. He sat on the bed, hands gripping Danny’s shoulders for stability at first, then to pull Danny forward into a kiss.

It was hot and wet, and it was doing nothing to quell the way Danny’s dick strained against his pants now. But Steve was unbuttoning Danny’s shirt—and seriously, the ability to handle buttons was almost insulting after that, but Danny would let it go, because the shirt was out of the way, and Danny needed to help Steve get him out of his pants, to get them both naked and on the bed together.

He thrust against Steve as they kissed, but only for a moment before Steve broke the kiss, his palm lingering on Danny’s cheek as he gave Danny a look that made his stomach flip like the first time he rode a roller coaster.

“Here,” Steve said, “let me just….” He guided Danny onto his back, then his side, so that Steve was snug up behind him. Before Danny could protest the loss of contact between his dick and Steve’s body, Steve’s hand was on Danny’s dick, wet somehow, a tight, warm tunnel that was rapidly removing what little control Danny had himself.

He could feel Steve’s dick, soft now, but still pressed up against Danny’s ass, slipping into the crevasse there, a pale imitation of what Danny suddenly wanted more than anything.

Next time. Next time he would get Steve to fuck him until neither one of them remembered their own names.

Now, though, he was about to lose it, hands gripping at Steve’s hips behind him, Steve’s lips on Danny’s neck, his hand hard and tight around Danny’s dick, words spilling out of Steve’s mouth that Danny couldn’t even comprehend, just the basic idea of them getting through the haze in his head.

Steve’s embrace was the only thing that kept Danny from falling apart as he came, everything else whiting out momentarily. His body was heavy as he became aware of his surroundings once again, of the cool air on his overheated skin, and of Steve’s arms around him, Steve’s lips pressed to the back of his neck, and Steve’s leg slung over both of Danny’s, keeping him firmly in place.

Danny was fine with that. There was nowhere else he wanted to be.

***

Chapter Text

The beer at Kamekona’s truck was cold, and the shrimp smelled amazing, though that might be in part because Steve really hadn’t eaten much all day. Danny didn’t even sit at the table, though, holding up his phone and wandering over to the side of Kamekona’s truck. He didn’t say who he was calling—didn’t have to. Steve knew even before the way Danny’s face seemed to glow when the call started that it was the kids.

Who else would Danny want to talk to after the day they’d had?

Steve turned to see Harry studying him like the astute spy he was. “What?” Steve asked.

Harry pressed his lips together for a second before responding. “You know,” he said slowly, “I sometimes wonder what things would have been like if I’d fought for Helen. If we’d stayed together, and I’d been the one to….”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, my profession doesn’t tend to lend itself to a family, so I suppose things turned out for the best.” He took a drink. “Of course, if I’d found someone in the same line of work, it might’ve been different. It’s not the same if you’re taking the same risks.”

Steve looked over at Danny again, the joy on his face from just talking to Grace and Charlie doing things to Steve’s stomach. “Maybe it’s harder,” Steve said. “Caring that much and watching them get hurt.”

“Or maybe it’s easier being right there to prevent it,” Harry countered.

Danny hung up, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he headed back to the table, and Steve turned his attention back to Harry and the knowing look on his face. Steve didn’t have any words to combat that look, so he said nothing as Danny stopped before sitting down, looking at both of them.

“What?” Danny said.

Steve gave him a blank look and a shrug. “How are the kids?”

“Fine,” Danny said as he sat down. “Charlie’s looking forward to swimming at your house on Sunday. He said he’s going to wear his bathing suit when I pick him up so we can go straight there.”

Steve smiled in spite of himself. “Sounds good,” he said, taking another drink of his beer and resolutely ignoring Harry’s scrutiny.

***

“Can I get you guys anything else?”

“You can,” Harry said to Kamekona. “I’ll have another beer. Danny?”

Danny’s nod was a little exaggerated. “I’ll have another one.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. “Steve?”

Steve shook his head, holding up his water. “I’m good, thanks.” He’d switched to water after a couple of beers because he figured one of them should be sober, and after Harry had seen his daughter’s kidnapping end up with her calling another man ‘Daddy,’ he probably needed more than a few beers.

And Danny inevitably needed a few, at the very least, after seeing one of the worst experiences of his life play out in front of him.

His talk with Grace and Charlie had helped, but Steve knew it would be a rough night. Because of course, in this case, it hadn’t just been another kidnapped kid—not that that wasn’t bad enough. No, this time Danny had gotten a full-on reminder. Harry mentioning he’d been there when Sophie was born, how Helen had decided to go back to her husband. It was all a little too on the nose.

So, yeah, Danny could have as many beers as he wanted.

***

Danny played with the label on his Longboard, flipping the worn corner up and putting it back down again. The bottle was still half full, but Danny was just on the pleasant side of almost drunk, and he didn’t want to make it to the other side.

Harry apparently felt the same, as he stood up. “Sorry, gents,” he said. “Sophie texted to ask if I’d join them for breakfast tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”

Yeah, Danny would need a little sleep to deal with that, too. And maybe a little alcohol.

Once Harry had promised not to leave town without saying goodbye, and paid the check, they let him go. Danny followed Steve to the Hilton parking garage, thinking about Harry’s situation. The thought of knowing Charlie was his and watching him call Stan “Dad” for years made Danny feel like throwing up.

“It sucks,” Danny said.

Steve glanced at him a few times before asking. “What?”

“Harry, the whole thing with Sophie. I mean, it was bad enough for me finding out about Charlie, and finding out that way, but if I hadn’t insisted that Rachel tell him the truth…that could be me in another 10 years, watching Charlie call Stan, ‘Dad’ and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“But it’s not.”

Danny nodded. “I know. It’s just….” He didn’t know how to explain the odd sense of something like déjà vu, except it hadn’t actually happened to him.

He couldn’t explain it, so he didn’t. And Steve didn’t ask. That was the thing about Steve—he knew when to push and when to let it be. It was one of the reasons, one of the many reasons, Danny was finding it increasingly difficult to return Melissa’s calls, to find time to spend with her, and to wish for a convenient bank robbery on the (admittedly rare) occasions lately when Steve was with Lynn.

Another reason was how Steve spent more time in Danny’s bed than anyone else’s. Danny was okay with that. More than okay. He wanted Steve there as much as possible. Wanted a lot of things, actually, up to and including Steve to make good on his tease (possibly unintended, but that was irrelevant) from the other night and actually fuck Danny.

Danny had had a few dreams about it in the past, but since the other night he hadn’t been able to keep it out of his dreams. Had had more than a few waking thoughts about it, too. But he hadn’t quite had the guts to ask.

Now, though…now he might just have had enough alcohol to ask.

Steve turned onto Danny’s street, and Danny took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted without asking for it, that much he knew. Steve would only go so far without an outright invitation.

So he’d get Steve inside, and then he’d ask.

***

Danny didn’t invite Steve in. There was no need; Steve followed him in like there was no question anymore where he was sleeping when they were both free. Or on quite a few nights when they weren’t entirely free.

The kids hadn’t noticed, or if they had, they hadn’t said anything. Junior still watched them both carefully, but he clearly hadn’t said anything to anyone else. As for the others, well, Danny hadn’t spent a couple decades as a detective without knowing how to hide things.

There was an advantage to spending all that time learning how criminals think.

Danny didn’t bother with the lights—both of them could make it to Danny’s room in the dark, and he didn’t want to stop for anything. He needed to get his question out before he chickened out.

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind Steve, Danny was on him, pinning him to the door with a long kiss. If Steve was surprised, he didn’t show it. He just went with it, giving as good as he got, pulling at Danny’s clothes just as much as Danny was pulling at his.

Danny managed to get Steve’s shirt him off by the time they made it to the bed. Steve’s Ninja skills were the only explanation how Steve got Danny both on the bed and shirtless in one move, then got Danny’s shoes and pants off before Danny knew what happened.

He wasn’t complaining about that, though. No, his only complaint was that Steve’s pants were still on, but Danny took care of that quickly, in between kissing whatever skin he could find along the way.

That first feel of Steve’s skin all along Danny’s never failed to make Danny’s breath catch, just for a second. He kept expecting it to become familiar, but there was always that one sharp moment of…relief, for lack of a better word. Like he’d been thirsty for hours and had just downed his first gulp of water.

He could just go with this, knew from experience how good it would be. But he’d been thinking about more for a while, and he wanted it now, when they didn’t have anywhere to be or anyone to answer to all night.

“Steve,” Danny muttered against Steve’s lips, even as his hands were trying to pull Steve closer. “Hey,” Danny said, leaning back, but Steve chased him, his mouth capturing Danny’s again. “Wait,” Danny mumbled into the kiss.

The words penetrated Steve’s brain at last, and he froze, still as a statue for a second before leaning back just enough for Danny to see the concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just…I mean, I’ve been thinking….”

They were pressed against each other, so Danny could feel how Steve all but stopped breathing for a second. “About?” he asked, after a moment.

A great question, and now that Danny had started, he had no idea how to ask. “I was thinking,” Danny said, “that maybe there are a few things we haven’t done, and we should.”

Steve’s brow furrowed so deep it gave Danny a headache to look at it. “I’m not following.”

Of course this would be the one time Steve couldn’t read Danny’s mind. “I was thinking,” Danny said, frustration making it easier somehow, “that maybe we could try something…new.”

“New?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Danny might love the guy, but he could be obtuse at the worst moments. “I was thinking maybe you could fuck me,” Danny said.

Steve’s dick jumped against Danny’s leg, but Steve’s brow didn’t lose its deep frown. “Danny…you’ve had a few beers…are you sure?”

“Steven, I’ve been thinking about this for days. Kind of hard not to think about it, actually.”

“Right….”

Really, the disbelief would be insulting if Danny didn’t know Steve was probably just trying to be all noble. Danny rolled onto his back, stretching in a way he knew would hurt later to reach the condoms and lube in the nightstand. He dropped them on the bed in the small space between his stomach and Steve’s. “Is that enough proof for you?”

Steve looked at the small pile before focusing on Danny’s face. “Danny….”

“Never mind,” Danny said, picking up the stuff and starting to roll backwards again. “It’s okay if you don’t want—”

Steve grabbed Danny’s arm and pulled him in close again before he could get very far, capturing Danny’s lips in a kiss. “I want,” Steve said, his lips moving against Danny’s. “I do, I want, it’s just….”

He pulled back just enough that his eyes weren’t a blur to Danny. “I had to be sure it wasn’t just the beer, or all the….”

“All the what?”

Steve took a deep breath. “All the reminders of what happened with Rachel.”

“Yes, Steven,” Danny deadpanned, “Rachel is totally the reason I want your dick in my ass.”

The words made Steve’s dick jump again, but he took another deep breath, searching Danny’s eyes for a moment before giving a little nod. “You’re sure?” Steve asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m sure,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve lost sleep thinking about it, but if you want I will give you a signed affidavit. We can even have it notarized, though that might cause some gossip when we—”

Steve kissed him, probably to shut him up, but Danny wasn’t going to complain. “I’ve never—” Steve broke off, reaching for the lube, not meeting Danny’s eyes. “I mean, I’ve seen…but….”

Danny picked up the condom. “I’m pretty sure it’s not all that different,” he said with a forced lightness. Because really, Steve being unsure about anything was rare, and Danny wanted him to be sure about this. “But I can go download a manual of some kind if it’ll make your SEAL brain feel better about it.”

Steve met Danny’s eyes at last, the warmth there enough to have Danny pressing in against him for a kiss. There was nothing uncertain in that kiss, and nothing uncertain in the way Steve’s hands slid down Danny’s back, one finger sliding in between Danny’s cheeks to tease at Danny’s hole.

Danny pressed back against that finger, the move ending in a full body shiver as Steve slipped it inside just a little before sliding it out again.

“Tease,” Danny muttered against Steve’s mouth.

“Yeah, well,” Steve said between kisses down Danny’s neck. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure being careful is a rule.”

He bit right at the juncture of Danny’s neck and shoulder, and it took Danny a second to remember English. “Right. Careful,” he said, his hands gripping at whatever skin they could find.

Steve’s finger slipped inside Danny a little more this time, teasing in and out, making Danny push back, trying to get more of that finger while leaning into Steve’s mouth as it worked down the back of Danny’s arm. He rolled Danny onto his stomach, but when Danny would’ve gotten up on his knees, Steve kept him rolling until Steve was behind him.

The first faint edges of uncertainty hit. Not about doing this—he had no qualms about that. But wanting it and actually doing it were two different things, and for all that he’d watched a little porn, he had zero first-hand experience, just as Steve had already admitted.

Steve seemed to have an idea what he was doing, though, despite his admission, and the slight shake in his hands. Danny heard the sound of the tube he’d forgotten he’d tossed on the bed being opened and closed, and a second later Steve’s finger slid into Danny again, slick this time.

The move seemed almost scripted, as did Steve’s careful, “Here, let me…” as he moved Danny’s top leg forward a little, giving Steve better access. Both seemed practically textbook, as if—

Danny rolled over, pulling Steve’s hands off him as Danny rolled until he was facing Steve. “You’ve totally researched this, haven’t you?” Steve winced. “You have!”

“Uh…I might have a little…um…I mean, I just wanted to be prepared in case we—”

Danny cut him off with a kiss, glad that at least one of them had gone a little farther than watching bad porn. “Okay, Boy Scout,” Danny said, dragging out the last word with his teeth nipping at Steve’s lower lip, “how do you want me?”

Steve’s grin was the best kind of reckless, the kind that gave Danny heart attacks in the field, but made his heart flip in this situation. “Here,” Steve said, that dark, husky tone to his voice sending a little jolt through Danny’s dick. “Roll over.”

Danny went back to his position on his side with Steve behind him, eerily reminiscent of the moment he’d decided he wanted this in the first place. Maybe that had been Steve’s motivation to research, too. Maybe he’d been thinking of it since then and hadn’t known how to ask for it.

Maybe if they ever started talking about whatever this was instead of just doing it, Danny would find the guts to ask if that was the case.

He heard the tube open and close again, and then Steve’s finger was back, pushing inside further this time. It was…a little weird, a little nice, something about the intimacy of it making it feel more than it actually was physically. Turning your back on a guy as dangerous as Steve could be deadly in the wrong circumstances—trusting him enough to do this was something Danny hadn’t really given thought to until just now.

“Okay?” Steve breathed across Danny’s ear, making him shiver.

“Yeah.” Danny pushed back onto that finger, loving the way Steve’s breath caught at that one little move. A moment later, though, Steve pulled his finger out, and Danny pushed his ass back, looking for that contact.

“Patience,” Steve said, earning him a growl from Danny. The tube opened and closed gain, and a moment later Steve’s finger was back, slicker than before. It slid in easier and easier, a comfortable rhythm that broke when Steve took his finger out again.

“Hey.”

Danny glared over his shoulder, but the glare didn’t last long when he saw Steve’s face, somewhere between lust and shellshock. “Seriously,” Steve said, “you have no patience at all, do you?”

“No.” Danny shoved his ass back, feeling Steve’s whole body start at the contact of Danny’s ass with Steve’s very hard dick. Danny glared over his shoulder. “Hurry it up.”

Steve shook his head sadly, though the effect was ruined by that face. “I should’ve known you’d be bossy in bed.”

“Do you want to get laid, or not?”

Steve looked amused. “Oh, so you’re going to stop me?”

“Damn right,” Danny said. “I will just—” Steve’s finger slid back in, bringing a second one with it, robbing Danny of breath for a second. “I will…” Danny bit at his lip, those fingers almost too much. Almost.

“Yeah.” Steve’s lips moved against the back of Danny’s neck. “I can see how you’re ready to just get up and walk away.”

“Less talking,” Danny said, as Steve pushed his fingers in deeper while nipping at the back of Danny’s neck. “More of…fuck!” Danny said, as something inside him flared into white hot awesomeness. “More of that.” He pushed back onto those fingers, looking for that feeling again. “Definitely more of that.”

He felt it again, and for all he’d read or seen, it was nothing like he’d expected. He wanted more of it now, though, wanted to know if it would be stronger if he had all of Steve inside him. “Steven,” Danny said, “you need to fuck me. Now.”

Steve’s sharp intake of breath, and the way cock jumped against Danny’s ass cheek, were indicators of how ready Steve was for that, but Danny could practically feel the hesitation, nonetheless. “Slow,” Danny,” Steve said, all but panting against Danny’s back now. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m going to hurt you if you don’t pick up the pace.”

“God, you are so demanding,” Steve said, but he pulled his fingers out again, and a moment later three fingers invaded Danny’s body, slick and fast. The slight burn would’ve been unpleasant under different circumstances, but combined with everything else, and the way it felt when Steve slid in just right, it was anything but unpleasant.

“Danny…” Steve mouthed at Danny’s shoulder. “Are you…can I…?”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been saying for the last five minutes of torture, Steven. Your dick. My ass. Now.”

The strangled sound behind him would probably be funny later, but right now it was just one more indicator of how much Steve wanted this. Steve pulled his fingers out, and Danny felt some fumbling around behind him before Steve cursed.

“What is the problem?” Danny demanded.

“I, uh…”

Danny growled. “Why the hell are you not fucking me yet?”

“I can’t get the damn condom open,” Steve said, sounding like he’d just lost a perp. “My hands are too slick.”

Danny reached in the drawer for a new one and ripped the package. “Here,” said, handing Steve the condom. “Can we please get on with this now?”

“If you insist.”

The words were obnoxious, but the tone was hungry, and it sent a shiver through Danny that left him with goose bumps. After what felt like an eternity, Danny felt the blunt, wide head of Steve’s dick pressing against him. But not in.

“Steven.”

“Dammit, Danny, just give me a second to figure out how this works.”

Danny pushed back, but Steve’s dick just slipped down into the crevasse below Danny’s hole. “Oh for the love of—”

“Hold on.” He felt Steve’s dick pressed against its target once more, one of Steve’s hands against Danny’s ass, the other guiding Danny’s leg up over Steve’s before landing on Danny’s hip.

Steve pressed in, his hand steadying Danny’s hips, and then he was inside, so much bigger than even three fingers. It felt…invasive, but not. The lube helped with the slide, but it was still a tight fit, and Danny breathed through the entry, doing his best to relax.

Inch by inch Steve slid in, Danny’s body opening slowly, but opening, until Steve was pressed against Danny’s ass, his dick as far in as it could go.

Steve shivered, and Danny felt it all along his back and then inside. “Jesus,” Danny whispered, reaching back and caressing Steve’s ass just to feel that shiver again. “That…that’s, um…yeah.”

“God, Danny.” Steve’s voice was raw. “You feel….”

“Yeah?” Danny could get used to this, could get used to being the reason for that particular tone. He rocked forward just a little, then back, and Steve gasped, biting down on Danny’s shoulder and sending shockwaves through him.

Danny rocked again, a little further this time, and was rewarded with that feeling inside again that lit him up. “Why have we not been doing this for years?” Danny asked, as he rocked some more, the slow glide of Steve’s dick in and out of Danny’s body quickly becoming addictive.

“We’re idiots,” Steve said. He gripped Danny’s hip to the point that Danny thought he might have bruises tomorrow, but he didn’t care, as Steve started pushing in more, taking control. Each of his thrusts was met by a harder one from Danny, that made Steve push further, until they were practically slamming into each other.

Steve’s hand lost its grip on Danny’s hip, moving so his whole arm could press against Danny’s chest, trapping him closer, limiting Danny’s movement so Steve was deep inside him, less force but more deep thrusts, hitting that spot every time.

If the feel of Steve’s dick in him had been addictive, the white-hot bursts of pleasure every time Steve glided over just the right spot was instant addiction. Danny could stay here all day doing this, but the short, thrusting jabs over that spot were sending him through the roof.

His orgasm was still almost a surprise, hitting on a particularly deep thrust by Steve that left Danny gripping at the arm around his chest and having no idea about anything else on the planet. After a long moment, he realized Steve was still pushing into him, could feel as much as hear the ragged breathing that said Steve had been on the edge way too long.

“Come on,” Danny said, stroking Steve’s arm where it still held Danny close. “Come on. Give it to me.”

Steve whimpered and went still as he thrust hard one more time. Danny could feel Steve’s cock shaking inside him as he came, that sensation alone enough to make him wish he could go all over again right that second.

He couldn’t though, and neither could Steve. When Steve’s breathing began to get more even, his dick slipped out, the sudden lack of it there now more foreign than the initial penetration had seemed at the time.

“Danny,” Steve said, the word as much a feeling across the sweaty skin on the back of Danny’s neck as an actual sound.

Danny’s arms tightened on Steve’s as Danny twisted around for a kiss before settling back into Steve’s embrace to take a nap.

***

Chapter Text

Steve watched the way Danny’s hands slid over the bar, careful and smooth, and wondered if it was irrational to be jealous of wood. The way that caress felt was familiar now, and Steve was less inclined than he had been in the past to share it.

Of course, if he was going to be jealous, a piece of wood would have to get in line behind Melissa, but he wasn’t thinking about that. Not one bit. After all, it wasn’t like Danny had even seen her in over a week.

Not that Steve was counting.

Danny stood back to admire his handiwork, the move backing him up against Steve. Steve shivered at the contact, the small of Danny’s back brushing against Steve’s dick, which was rapidly getting on board with the idea in his head.

A fact that Danny, ever the observant detective, didn’t miss.

“Seriously?” Danny said, turning around, but not moving out of Steve’s personal space. “Are you serious with that right now?” He nodded down below Steve’s belt, but for all his words were meant to be annoyed, his tone and that light in his eyes said he was anything but.

Steve shrugged, managing to get a little closer with the motion, his dick brushing Danny’s stomach. “What can I say, Danno? You’re good with your hands.”

Danny’s laughter was warm, and Steve leaned into it, his thigh brushing Danny’s dick and discovering that yeah, Danny had no problems with this.

“That is the lamest come on ever, even by your standards, Smooth Dog.”

“But did it work?” Steve took a step closer, forcing Danny back a little, eyeing the bar.

Danny followed Steve’s gaze, head swiveling back around. “No, no, no.”

Steve stopped, frowning. “No?”

“No, I mean, yes, but not on the bar, Steven. We just finished that thing. You are not messing it up with whatever caveman fantasy you have about bending me over it, even if that would give you more quality time with the sander.”

He’d actually been thinking about Danny on his back on top of it, his ankles on Steve’s shoulders, but bending him over it held a certain appeal, too. Though he might need a step stool…and yeah, that thought was never, ever passing Steve’s lips.

Danny had a point—though, really, a few smudge marks to look at on stressful nights once they opened wouldn’t be the worst thing. Still, it wasn’t like he couldn’t indulge himself in that idea another night, and who needed smudge marks when he had memories?

“Okay,” Steve said, changing direction, guiding Danny off to the side until his back was up against the wall. Steve leaned in for a long kiss, which led to another and another until they were both shirtless and his memories of how that happened, exactly, weren’t quite clear.

Danny looked just as dazed, and that look, combined with his apparent amusement, was one Steve really wanted to see a lot more often. “Okay, caveman,” Danny said, his hands on Steve’s hips, thumbs teasing their way between the leather and Steve’s pants. “Just what did you have in mind up against this wall?”

“Well,” Steve said, his hands finding their way to Danny’s fly, undoing the button deftly, “I could get on my knees and blow you.”

Danny swallowed, the sound loud in the silence around them. “You could,” he said, the words slightly strangled.

“But is that really the proper way to christen Steve’s?”

“I’d go on record saying I think it’s a great idea,” Danny said, using Steve’s belt loops to pull him a little closer.

Steve tilted his head, as if he was considering it, as he lowered Danny’s zipper. “I’m not saying it doesn’t have its merits,” Steve said. “But I think, if it’s okay with you, I’d much rather fuck you.”

Danny’s hips surged forward, giving Steve the space he needed to shove Danny’s pants and underwear down. “I would say that’s one of the best ideas you’ve had,” Danny said, fingers working quickly on Steve’s belt and fly.

When Danny would have shoved Steve’s clothes out of the way, Steve stopped him, one hand on both of Danny’s. “Hang on,” Steve said, reaching into the pocket on his leg and pulling out two packets. “Okay,” Steve said, letting Danny go.

Danny shoved the clothes down, his hands sliding over Steve’s ass on the way back up, giving a quick squeeze that made Steve thrust his hips forward, as Danny leaned in to taste Steve’s collarbone. “No, wait,” Steve said, pushing Danny back.

“You tell me you’re gonna fuck me and then you say wait?” Danny said, sounding indignant.

“Only for a second.” Steve held up the packets he’d pulled from his pocket. “I am not making the same mistake twice,” he said, as he ripped the condom packet open.

He pulled the condom out, but before he could put it on, Danny took it from him. “Here, let me.”

Watching Danny roll the condom on was the hottest thing Steve had ever seen, hotter even than the feel of Danny’s fingers as they traced the latex back up the length of Steve’s dick.

“There,” Danny said. “All covered up now, so can we get on with it?”

Steve shook his head sadly, even as he was opening the lube packet. “The romance is dead.”

Danny snorted, rolling his eyes as he pushed Steve back. “Here,” Danny said, turning around to face the wall, bracing his hands on it before he looked over his shoulder. “Do I need to paint a target, or will this do?” he asked, wiggling his ass.

Steve almost dropped the lube, but managed to keep it in his hands. “No,” he said, his voice a little rough, “that’ll do.”

He slicked up his fingers and opened Danny up, not sure if it really took less time this time around, or if the first time had just felt like an eternity, between wanting to do it just right and wanting to finally do it. But then he was inside Danny at last, one arm wrapped around Danny’s chest, the other bracing on the wall just above Danny’s. He was every bit as tight as Steve remembered, and even better than the first time. Whether that was because he knew what to do this time and didn’t have to focus as much, or if it was because it was there, in their restaurant, their future was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at too closely right now.

Not when he had Danny against him and around him, taking Steve in like he was built for it, and pushing back like it was the best thing he’d ever done. Those sounds were something Steve would remember for years any time he was at the bar, and he resigned himself to a lifetime of hard-ons while getting drinks.

Steve lowered his head, lips and teeth working at the back of Danny’s neck, just below his t-shirt line, where anyone who looked close enough would wonder, but not be sure what they saw, and where Danny’s collar on his dress shirts would bug him for a day or two.

“I can’t believe you were walking around with that in your pocket all day,” Danny said, his voice breathy now, his head bowed down like a cat if you rubbed at its neck as Steve finished making his mark.

He lifted his head, satisfied with his handiwork. “You would, too,” Steve said, thrusting in harder, pulling Danny back flush against him, loving the way Danny’s head just fell back onto Steve’s chest.

“Would what?” Danny asked.

“Be carrying that around if you knew how good this felt.”

Danny laughed, but Steve was distracted as he realized that Danny had his hand wrapped around his dick, getting himself off. Steve put his hand around Danny’s, matching his motion as he stroked himself, wringing a choked sound out of Danny’s throat.

Danny was holding them both up, strong arms showing those muscles that Steve didn’t get to see enough of. He mouthed his way down Danny’s tricep and back up, loving the feel of the muscle moving under his lips.

“Steve….” Danny pushed back harder, and Steve braced himself, steadying them both. “Fuck, I…fuck…”

“Come on,” Steve said, hand gripping tighter as Danny sped up his pace. A moment later he was rewarded as Danny came, spasming around Steve’s dick and bringing him over a few seconds later.

They sagged against the wall for a moment before Steve pulled out and they collapsed onto the floor, their clothes at least a little of a barrier between their bare asses and the tile.

Danny’s head was against Steve’s chest again. Steve turned his head to press a kiss to Danny’s hair, earning him a squeeze of his thigh. The side of his head resting against Danny’s, Steve looked around the restaurant. Somewhere along the line it had become as much home as his own house, snuck in when he hadn’t noticed.

Much like Danny.

Which was problematic if Danny wasn’t quite on the same page. After all, he was still seeing Melissa last Steve had heard. Not that Steve had asked in a while. Not that he could, not in those words.

But he could toss Danny’s words back at him and see what happened.

“What are we doing?” Steve asked.

“Hm?”

Steve leaned to the side a little to look at Danny, who, after a second, turned his head to meet Steve’s gaze. “What are we doing?” Steve asked again.

He knew Danny too well, could see him discarding a couple of answers before he opened his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “But maybe we should figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We probably should.”

***

Chapter Text

Danny checked his watch. Steve had been in the back for at least ten minutes, for what was supposed to be a five-minute check of Eddie’s progress.

Not that it was a big deal. No, apparently the check up was such a small deal that Danny had been forbidden to go back with them.

“You’re just gonna ask a bunch of unnecessary questions that will make it three times longer,” Steve had said.

Like Danny ever asked unnecessary questions? Like the questions he continually asked—mostly to himself—about Steve’s condition and how whatever way he’d managed to get injured this week affected it weren’t crucial? At least to Danny.

But not to Steve. No, apparently there were zero conversations that were important to Steve as evidenced by the fact that this time he’d been the one to bring up the question of just what the two of them were doing, only to be interrupted by a case.

And then he’d never brought it up again.

Danny picked up a magazine and flipped to a random page. “’How to Speak Cat?’ What, like ‘meow’ is hard?”

A woman two seats away cleared her throat. Danny glanced over to see her frown as she pulled her cat closer on her lap. He nodded and tried to smile reassuringly as he put the magazine back on the table.

Then again, maybe he should read the article. Maybe, since Steve was a former cat person, he would be more likely to talk if Danny spoke to him in cat.

And maybe Danny should find something else to distract himself so he didn’t snap too hard at Steve when he came out.

Danny pulled up solitaire on his phone, but before he could even clear one row, Tani called with a case. “Thank God,” he muttered as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

Now he had a legitimate reason to interrupt Steve.

***

“I spent my life living in the shadow of my father’s decisions, good and bad. I don’t expect that to change now that he’s dead.”

Danny turned Connor’s words over in his head on the way to Cammy’s apartment. It was true for everyone, to an extent—even someone who grew up without a father still had the lack of one looming over them in the eyes of some.

He glanced at Steve, who’d grown up with a father who was a decorated war veteran and cop, with a grandfather—Steve’s namesake—who had laid down his life at sea at the most momentous American battle of the last century.

As shadows went, those were pretty huge.

Add in a healthy dose of abandonment issues from a mother who faked her death and a father who sent him away…it was a lot for anyone to handle. And it was a lot of influence to make a guy think that no one would keep him around.

“What?” Steve asked.

Danny blanked his face quickly. “What what?”

“What was that look?”

“What look?”

“That look,” Steve said, pointing at Danny’s face.

“Oh, that look,” Danny said. “I think that was probably my, ‘you’re going to get us killed if you don’t slow down to under a hundred’ look.”

Steve frowned at him for a moment. “Okay,” he said, as he pulled into the parking lot, “I’m gonna let that go, but only because we’re here.”

Danny kept quiet as he got out of the car and followed Steve up the steps.

***

”If it’s any consolation, I’d rather it was me that was gonna take this beating, all right? But he chose you.”

The words were so very Steve to his core that the only thing odd about them were that they were stuck in Danny’s brain over and over. Of course he’d rather take a beating than see someone he cared about take it. Anyone who knew anything about Steve knew the way to make him suffer wasn’t by hurting him—it was by hurting the people he loved.

But Danny hadn’t had to take a beating. Seeing as how Steve would have let that kid beat him up, it was for the best that Danny had been chosen to fight. No harm, no foul, and they got the info they needed.

So why did Steve have ‘constipated with a side of guilt’ face on?

“What?” Danny asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What what?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “What’s with the face?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Look,” Danny said, “we’re almost to HQ, so why don’t you pretend we played the ‘I don’t know what you mean’ game for five minutes already and talk?”

Steve glanced at him, then focused back on the road. After two more glances, Steve said, “I read the situation wrong.” The words sounded like he’d had to drag them out, but he continued anyway. “I read it wrong, and if you’d listened to me, you’d have taken a beating.”

“What?” Danny shifted in his seat, staring at Steve with wide eyes. “You mean the great Commander McGarrett can be wrong?” Danny put his hand over his chest in exaggerated shock. “I think I might need a minute to incorporate this into my world view.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he looked a lot less tense than he had before. “Okay, okay,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Of course, if I had been right, then we would’ve been running out of there under gunfire.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you were wrong.”

“Yeah,” Steve looked at Danny, something in his eyes sending a little shiver through Danny’s body. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

***

Danny laid on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark, listening to the weird synchronization that Steve’s breathing seemed to always have with the ocean. If the similarity between the two had anything to do with why the ocean had somehow become less scary and more comforting over the years, Danny sure as hell wasn’t admitting to it.

Kind of like he wasn’t admitting that he could just as easily have brought the conversation about what they were doing up himself. There’d been at least half a dozen moments since the restaurant that night that he could have said, “Hey, so, about that question of what we’re doing….”

But he hadn’t.

Maybe this was how Steve and Catherine had ended up where they did. Maybe they’d both just coasted along in a limbo of a relationship that wasn’t really a relationship, even though it absolutely was. Maybe they’d let it go without talking about it until it was long past the point where talking about it would have worked. Long past the point where they would have worked.

Maybe if Danny just let it slide, he and Steve would end up the same way.

Danny turned onto his side. He saw Steve’s profile every day in the car as they drove from place to place. Before he’d met Steve, he would’ve sworn that it was impossible to tell someone’s every emotion just from a side view. But he could read Steve’s profile like a book, knew every little difference that spoke of a different mood, a different thought.

There was something about it when he slept though, like what it should’ve been if Steve hadn’t gone through everything he’d gone through. Relaxed and younger.

At peace.

The idea was at odds with everything that was Steve McGarrett, but it still fit. Danny had seen hints of that profile during the day, lately. Few and far between, but they were there. And Danny wanted to see it more often.

Steve wrinkled his nose and sniffed, a sure sign he was waking up. Danny watched, not bothering to pretend to be asleep, as Steve’s eyes opened and he turned his head, seeking out Danny in the moonlight.

“What time is it?” Steve asked, that middle of the night voice sending a jolt through Danny’s dick.

“A little after three, I think.”

Steve frowned. “What are you doing awake?”

Contemplating the universe? Trying to figure out how to talk about whatever this is? Trying to figure out what this is in the first place? Danny shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Steve said, rolling onto his side and reaching for Danny. “Let me keep your company.”

Danny rolled into the kiss, putting the question of what was going on away for now.

He’d need to answer it soon enough.

***

Chapter Text

Danny tilted his head in the direction of Grace’s room, the tell-tale sound of rapid digital clicks making it obvious she was still texting instead of doing her homework. “Grace Williams! Do not make me come take that thing away from you, because if I do, you won’t see it for a week!”

“I’m putting it away now!”

He listened, but didn’t hear the sound again. Given that he’d done everything he could to make it impossible to turn that sound off, he relaxed. He started to slouch back against the couch, but a buzz in his pocket made him pull out his phone to see a text from Tani.

Junior’s been deployed - pretty sure McGarrett’s gone out to Pearl hell bent on going with

Danny sat up, sliding to the edge of his seat as he read the text again. Before he could text back, his phone rang, the screen displaying Steve’s goofiest expression in a picture that Grace had taken and Danny couldn’t bring himself to change.

Danny stabbed at the accept button. “Please tell me you are not on your way to Afghanistan,” Danny said.

“I see Tani can text faster than I can dial a phone,” Steve said.

“Yeah, well, maybe she figured you’d send me a letter instead of calling so she wanted to give me a heads up.”

“Funny,” Steve said. “You’re so funny. And no, I’m not on my way to Afghanistan.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure I can’t get frequent flier miles if I go there a second time to bring your ass home.”

Steve’s laughter held a hint of something else that did nothing to ease Danny’s concern. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to Afghanistan.” Steve cleared his throat. “But, uh…I’m going to Nigeria.”

He didn’t sound one hundred percent sure. “Come again?”

“I’m going to Nigeria.” This time he sounded more certain.

Danny counted to three. “Look, Steve,” he said carefully, “I know Junior is one of ours now, but I’m pretty sure he can handle himself. Not to take a page from your book or anything, but he is trained for this.”

“He can. But it’s not about Junior.” Steve’s deep breath was clear over the phone line, despite the road noise. “It’s about Joe.”

“Joe? Joe White?”

“Yeah. They think he’s being held hostage in the compound they’re going after. And considering the target, Joe would be acceptable collateral damage if it meant killing this guy.”

Danny still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of acceptable collateral damage, and it was clear that Steve didn’t agree with it anymore, if he ever had. To say he didn’t would be to bad mouth the Navy, and Steve wouldn’t go that far. But his actions said that he didn’t buy into the concept any more than Danny did.

That did not, however, mean he should throw himself in the ring as another potential piece of collateral damage.

“Look, Steve….” Danny searched for the right words to talk him out of it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because there was no point. The same honor and loyalty that Danny loved about the man meant he wouldn’t budge. “You need some back up?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’ll be covered.”

Because there was no doubt he would get himself on that plane with the SEAL team. Anyone who thought differently didn’t know Steve McGarrett. “Okay. How long until you get to Pearl?”

“About five minutes.” Which should’ve been more like ten, but, Steve. “Hey, guess what. Right before he left, Junior told me he was apartment hunting.”

“He did?” Danny refused to think about the possibilities that Steve no longer having a roommate might provide right now. “That’s great. Sounds like he’s settling in.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty interested in one, but it was small, so he’s gonna keep looking.”

Danny knew that tone. “Steven. Did he say it was small, or did you point that out?”

“I, uh…I might’ve pointed out there really wasn’t a lot of room for Eddie to come visit.”

Which was Steve for ‘I did everything I could to make him decide to stay.’ Danny was well familiar with those tactics after all these years. “Steven.”

“Yes, Daniel?”

“Did it occur to you that he could come visit Eddie at your house?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Well, yeah, but I mean….” He cleared his throat a second time, which was Steve speak for ‘I’m about to admit to something I don’t really want to admit to’. “I’ve gotten used to having someone around the house,” he said finally. “It’s…nice.”

One little admission, but one that put big ideas in Danny’s head about possibilities he wasn’t about to mention right now, not with Steve going off on some SEAL mission. “Figures,” Danny said. “You’re about the right age for empty nest syndrome.”

“Fuck you.”

Apparently not tonight. “Of course,” Danny said, “I didn’t expect you to go through it before me, but hey, I guess we all age at different rates.”

Danny counted Steve’s laughter as a win. “Yeah,” Steve said, “we’ll see if you find that as funny when Grace goes to college in about 24 months.”

“Hey! Why you gotta do that?”

“Turnabout is fair play, partner.”

“Yeah, well, you wait until you get back,” Danny said. “I’ll show you fair play.”

Steve’s laugh was a little darker this time, a sound that had Danny telling his dick to stand down, it wasn’t getting anything tonight. “I look forward to that,” Steve said, that promise in his tone leading Danny’s dick to ignore Danny’s order.

Danny glanced over his shoulder down the hall, then lowered his voice. “Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to think about that while I’m having some quality time with my left hand tonight.”

The comment was met with momentary silence before Steve said, his voice a little hoarse, “Left hand, huh? Funny, I would’ve guessed the right.”

“Yeah, well, come home safely and I’ll show you why I use my left.”

This time the pause was longer. “That’s certainly some good incentive,” Steve said at last.

“Glad to hear it.”

The road noise changed as the truck slowed, and Danny braced himself for Steve’s next words. “I’m almost to the base. I should go.”

“Yeah, okay, uh…look. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I never do.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Please, I know you. You make bad decisions more often than Grace sends texts.”

“I’ll be fine, Danny.”

“You’d better. I don’t know how to get to Nigeria, so you’re on your own.”

It was a lie—if he got word Steve was in trouble he’d fly a fucking plane there himself. But he’d rather Steve just get home safe on his own this time.

“Good to know. When I get back, I’ll buy you an atlas.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t break anything.”

“Roger that.”

Danny groaned. “Already with the military speak. Clearly it’s time to go.”

“Yeah. I’m about to pull up to the gate.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

“You’re not. But do it this time,” Danny said. For me. But he couldn’t get that part out. “Just…be careful.”

“I will. I’ll contact you, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“See you soon,” Steve said.

“Yeah.”

He hung up, and after a moment, Danny put his phone back in his pocket and slouched into the couch.

***

Danny flipped through the channels on the TV, unable to settle on anything. He’d gotten a text when Steve had landed at Hickham, but who knew how long it would take him to get deprogrammed, or whatever the hell they did with SEALs before letting them back out into the world after a mission.

He’d flipped around long enough to see the nightly news come to an end when Steve’s truck rumbled into the driveway and stopped. A moment later, Steve came through the door. He leaned back against it for a second once he was inside, looking tired.

His smile was real, though, as he moved around the couch to sit down rather gingerly on the couch beside Danny. Definitely tired, now that Danny could see him up close. The lines around his eyes that always got deeper when Steve was in need of sleep were pronounced, and that slight blur was in his eyes.

Tired or not, though, he looked good. No huge bruises or cuts on his face, and no marks on his neck that indicated anyone had tried to strangle him this time. The need to even look for that was something Danny tried not to think too much about.

“You want a beer?” Danny asked.

At Steve’s nod, Danny got up and grabbed two beers from the kitchen. He opened them before taking them back out to the living room. Steve’s eyes were closed, but they opened as Danny sat down. Steve took the beer, downing a long drink before sinking back into the couch again.

“So how was Nigeria?” Danny asked.

“Sorry, that’s classified.”

Steve’s smirk told Danny it was a joke, but he gave Steve the expected glare anyway. “Ass.”

Steve huffed a laugh, his hand going to his abdomen on the move, causing Danny to frown. “Well,” Steve said, “we got Joe out without dying in an airstrike, so that’s a plus.”

Danny already knew they’d gotten Joe out from a brief call from Steve while he was in Germany. The airstrike information, however, was new. “Well,” Danny said, through a suddenly constricted throat, “that’s good.”

Understatement of the year.

Steve was brief on the details as he told the story, in between drinks. He told enough for Danny to know he probably didn’t want to know more, though. The hoarseness in Steve’s voice that Danny had put down to exhaustion in Germany was still pronounced. It was also clearly more than just tiredness.

What it was, given the lack of visible marks from the shoulders up, was a question that Danny wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

Steve finished the story with the flight to Germany, then finished his beer, leaning forward to put his empty bottle on the coffee table. His hand went to his abdomen again, and Danny wanted to rip off Steve’s shirt just to see what the damage was.

“When I was over there, though,” Steve said, picking at the hem of his shirt, “we found some soldiers.” He glanced up at Danny before focusing on his shirt again. “They’d been killed and stripped of all their effects, then just laid out as a trap for anyone else who came along.”

Danny could imagine the scene well enough that he wanted to reach out and hug Steve. But Steve didn’t need a hug, he needed to finish what he was trying to say, so Danny stayed put.

“We got their stuff back,” Steve said. “But…I couldn’t stop thinking about it all the way home.”

He met Danny’s gaze at last. “What you said before, about not wanting to be that case where someone has to give your family closure? I get it. Before, when I was active, I didn’t really have anyone. I mean, I had dad, sure, but he would’ve been proud of my service if anything had happened. Just like he’d been proud of a father he never met. Mary…well….” Steve shrugged. “Who knows what she’d have thought back then?”

Steve took a deep breath, his hand going to his abdomen again, but Danny’s need to hear the rest of what Steve had to say was stronger than the need to check him for damage this time. “There was nobody then that I’d have hated come back to like that. Not if it meant saving others or serving my country,” Steve said. “But now…I wouldn’t want to be that, not if I can do anything to avoid it.”

His smile was rueful as he continued, “I owed Joe that mission. I owed it to him to save him like he saved me. But I was careful this time, or as careful as I could be given everything.”

Steve lifted his shirt, and Danny swallowed at the sight of the large bruise spreading several colors out across his abdomen. In the center was something that looked like a burn. The transplant scar stood out, pale in the middle of all that damage.

No wonder he’d been protective of that area.

“This is only a bruise because I took extra precautions,” Steve said. “I sacrificed a little speed for extra weight of the plates that stopped a bullet just to be a little more careful. To come home alive.”

Of course, he’d also clearly gotten himself shot center mass point blank, but in McGarrett-land, that was still caution. When Danny had first met him, the guy would’ve sacrificed shoes to run across fire if he’d thought he’d be a fraction of a second faster.

Danny tore his eyes away from the bruise to find Steve watching. “Why?” Danny asked.

“Because you asked me to.”

What the hell was Danny supposed to do with honesty like that? He wanted to jump the guy, kiss him senseless, and have some spectacularly creative sex. But with that bruise and the way Steve was protecting it…Danny wasn’t going to risk making the pain worse, not when all he really wanted was to take the pain away.

Danny bent his head, pressing his lips to the bruise. Steve’s gasp was a good one, his hand resting lightly on Danny’s back as Danny kissed his way around the edges of the mark.

“Danny.”

The word was a near whisper, as Steve’s hand tugged on Danny’s shoulder, pulling him up until he looked at Steve. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” Danny asked.

Steve shook his head, something in his eyes that made Danny feel a little short of breath. “No, but I wouldn’t mind doing this in a bed, where I can stretch out a little and not be quite so bent over this thing.” Steve waved a hand at the bruising.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Danny got up, offering Steve a hand, letting him use it to brace himself for the least strain on his abdomen as he stood. He kept Steve’s hand in his as they went into Danny’s room and closed the door out of habit, even though the kids were at Rachel’s.

Once they were in the room, Steve pulled Danny in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Danny surprisingly tight, considering the damage to his abdomen. “I missed you,” Steve said into Danny’s hair.

“I missed you, too,” Danny said as he leaned back, pulling Steve’s head down for a kiss while making quick work of Steve’s buttons.

Steve ditched the shirt, tugging at Danny’s t-shirt so he could pull it up over Danny’s head. “It was weird,” Steve said, pausing to pull his own shirt carefully over his head.

Danny toed off his shoes, trying not to look at the bruise just yet. “What, being with SEALs? You did that for years."

“I know,” Steve said. “And it was like riding a bike.” He undid his fly and shoved his pants down. “But it wasn’t the same.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said as he got rid of his pants and underwear in one go, “you weren’t in charge—though somehow I doubt that stopped you from calling the shots.”

Steve’s grin answered that question. He went to step out of his pants, only to realize his shoes were still on. He sighed as he dropped down to get rid of them, looking up at Danny as he dealt with the laces. “Maybe I don’t like bikes as much as I used to,” he said.

There was something in his tone Danny couldn’t quite place. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Steve finished with the boots and socks and stood up, pulling Danny against him. “Maybe I like Camaros better.”

Danny gave a long-suffering sigh, even as the admission made his stomach flop a little. “I knew it,” Danny said sadly. “You’re only after me for my car.”

Steve’s laugh felt amazing with Steve pressed against him. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Danny pulled him into a kiss as he guided both of them over to the bed. He gave Steve a second to lay down before Danny joined him. Danny slid a leg across both of Steve’s, straddling his thighs, trying to read that look in Steve’s eyes. The warmth he knew, had seen it so many times over the year, but that something extra was harder to place, even as something inside him seemed to echo it.

Danny traced the outer edges of the bruise lightly, watching the muscle beneath the skin twitch in response. Steve’s hands gripped Danny’s thighs a little tighter at the move, but a quick look at Steve’s face said it was a good reaction, as did the way Steve’s dick got that much harder.

The bruise was fascinating, in a kind of morbid way, beautiful in how the colors changed on the edge but were so vivid near the center, but ugly in how it meant Steve had been that close to death. “What happened?” Danny asked.

“I got shot.”

The tone in Steve’s voice said he didn’t particularly want to talk about it, which just made Danny want to know that much more. He glanced up to see Steve’s face was shuttered, and wasn’t so sure he wanted to know anymore.

But maybe he needed to.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Danny said. “How?”

“We were pinned down by some Nigerian pirates,” Steve said after a moment. “I faked a surrender, then when they were all out in the open, we shot them.”

“But one got you?”

Steve nodded. “Only on his way down after I shot him with a hidden gun.”

“How very John McClane of you,” Danny said, studiously not thinking about Steve making himself a target. He’d done it knowing he had a good chance with the precautions he’d taken; for Steve, that was progress.

Danny leaned down to trace the bruise with his tongue, loving the way Steve rolled up into it, muscles moving under Danny’s tongue and hands as he reclaimed what was his.

When he felt he’d been thorough enough, Danny tasted his way up Steve’s chest to capture his lips, warm and as responsive as the rest of Steve’s body had been. Always was. After a long kiss, Danny sat up and reached over into the night stand, pulling out lube and a condom.

Steve reached for them, but Danny held them over his head. “Ahahah. Mine.”

"And it's my dick."

“You know, most people who are about to get laid aren’t this argumentative.”

Steve’s eyes bugged out. “Have you met you? You’d argue with six porn stars who laid themselves naked at their feet.”

“Good thing I don’t need any porn stars then, isn’t it?” Danny said, giving Steve a sunny smile as he rolled the condom onto Steve’s dick. “I’ve got you.”

The smile Steve wore in response to that rang vague bells in Danny’s head, but he was too focused on opening himself up for Steve to fuck him to place it. When he was done, he tossed the bottle off to the side and rose up onto his knees, placing himself over Steve’s dick.

Steve’s eyes were dark and intent as Danny slid himself down onto Steve’s dick, the slow glide made even better by the changes in Steve’s expression. Danny had never had the chance to watch Steve’s face like this, the way his mouth parted, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, how his neck muscles moved as he swallowed, the slight narrowing of his eyes as Danny slid down that last little bit until he was flush against Steve’s body.

He definitely appreciated the way Steve met his gaze when it was done. The sheer force of that look, whatever that was behind it that Danny couldn’t quite place, felt like it should be enough to get Danny off all on its own.

It wasn’t, of course. Danny lifted up and slid back down again, careful not to put his hands on Steve’s bruises, but sliding them up and down Steve’s sides, along his arms, anywhere he could find skin to touch. He moved slowly at first, enjoying the rhythm and feel of Steve under him and in him, no rush to end this, not when he had everything he wanted laid out in front of him like this.

Endless moments later, Steve shifted, drawing his knees up and changing his angle so he could pick up the pace. He met Danny thrust for thrust, driving them both on harder until Danny bent down, supporting himself on his elbows to avoid laying on Steve’s bruise, hands sliding under Steve’s shoulders as he captured Steve’s lips.

The angle was even better, despite losing the view, lighting Danny up inside and leaving him breathless. He was close, so close, pushing back into Steve’s thrusts, harder and harder until Steve pushed hard one last time and shook.

The move took Danny over the edge, too, bright pinpoints of lights flashing behind his eyelids as he forgot how to breathe. He must have remembered at some point, though, because when he came down, he was just off to the side, mostly sprawled over Steve, but not enough that he’d hurt Steve’s injury.

At a quiet laugh from Steve, Danny managed to get his head to move enough to meet Steve’s eyes. “What’s funny?’ Danny asked.

“I just realized we never got the covers pulled back,” Steve said. “And I’m too boneless to even try.”

Danny shrugged as he reached down and pulled up the blanket that sat folded on the end of the bed, covering them both with it. “It’s Hawaii,” Danny said, settling his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Not like we really need a down comforter or something.”

“I definitely don’t when I’m sleeping with someone who radiates heat like a furnace,” Steve said, but since it didn’t sound like a complaint, Danny decided to let it slide.

He was drifting off a little when Steve said, “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you. I’m going apartment hunting with Junior tomorrow.”

Danny lifted his head to look at Steve. “Good for you,” he said. “I applaud your ability to let the baby bird leave the nest.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for him. And I still have Eddie to keep me company, right?”

“Right,” Danny said, but he couldn’t quite kill the idea in the back of his mind now. Steve’s house was built for a family. Maybe, just maybe, it might be time for it to have one again.

It was too soon to have thoughts like that. They weren’t even officially dating yet. They hadn’t officially stopped seeing other people. Though, really, Danny needed to have a talk with Melissa, and soon. Maybe he’d see how Steve reacted to that, whether or not it spooked him.

Or maybe he should just get the conversation with Steve out of the way now.

“Hey…” Danny said, looking up, only to see that Steve was out cold.

That conversation could wait. Steve needed sleep.

Danny snuggled back into place and closed his eyes.

***

Chapter Text

The water was running in the showers as Danny dropped his bag on a bench outside. Steve’s fight had taken five years off Danny’s life just in the time it took to walk up to the window to see if Steve was alive. But after that, they’d gone and arrested two spies from the Russian ring, and one of them had tried to run from Steve. Through mud.

Danny stepped into the showers to see Steve standing under the spray of one. The steam around him spoke of the heat of the water, and Steve’s relaxed stance said the heat was doing Steve’s sore muscles some good.

The way Steve was braced against the wall gave Danny so many ideas about what he could do right then and there, ideas he couldn’t really follow through on, no matter how much he wanted to.

Danny silently told his dick to stand down. “You okay?” Danny asked, as he stepped up behind Steve.

Steve’s slow nod knocked the shower spray around a little as it bounced off the back of his head. “I’m fine.”

He was definitely that--Danny couldn’t help but admire the way the water slid down his back and across his ass. Danny also couldn’t help but notice the number of bruises it had to cross to get there. There was still mud in various places, which meant Steve had just been standing under the spray and hadn’t bothered to actually wash.

At least Danny could help with that. He used the dispenser on the wall to lather his hands with shower gel, the familiarity of the scent reminding him just how many times they’d had to get cleaned up down here before going home.

He may or may not have spent a few of those showers fantasizing about his partner. If he had, a few of those fantasies might have started like this, Danny’s soapy hands gliding across Steve’s back, fingers digging into the muscles that weren’t bruised to loosen them up. Steve sighed into Danny’s touch, pushing back just a little, and all the mental lectures in the world weren’t enough to get Danny’s dick to stand down now.

They still hadn’t had that conversation about what they were doing. Danny could’ve started it a dozen times by now, so it wasn’t like he could entirely blame Steve. This wasn’t really the setting for that, though, even if Danny wanted to know, wanted a legitimate reason for being pissed for the five years of his life that had disappeared in the seconds it took today for him to walk up to that window, look down, and see that Steve wasn’t dead.

This also wasn’t the setting for everything Danny was wanting to do now that he had his hands on a wet, naked Steve. He focused on cleaning Steve up, getting rid of the mud, but then found his hands wandering back to Steve’s back, feeling the muscle move as Steve shifted, watching Steve’s legs spread just a little more, like an invitation, one that Danny wanted to—

The door to the locker room banged open, and Danny jumped back. Steve straightened, turning around to let the spray have full access to his back. Danny looked down and saw that Steve had the same problem Danny was having, and both of them were about to be really obvious to whoever was on their way into the shower if they didn’t cover up from the waist down. Fast.

Danny grabbed a couple of towels, tossing one to Steve as he stepped out of the water. They’d both just managed to tie them around their waists when Junior walked into the showers. He took one look at them, shook his head, and went over to a shower on the other side, ignoring them.

Danny met Steve’s eyes before jerking his head towards the door. Steve nodded, so Danny turned and walked out without looking back.

***

Steve’s body was screaming in a way it would not have if he’d had that fight at 20. Or even 30. One more reminder that he was a long way from either of those ages.

He wasn’t about to give in, though.

Before Junior could finish his shower and come out with any more knowing looks, Steve got Danny into the car and on the road to the restaurant to check in on Kamekona. What they found was proof that they’d made the right decision, even if it had been a tough one.

Though really, they were going to have to talk about the name.

The sign and the picture made this feel real for the first time on this whole journey, though. Steve got Kamekona to send him a copy before they got down to work, helping where they could until they called it a night.

Steve pulled the Camaro out into traffic, managing to make it two whole blocks before Danny started talking. “I have to say,” Danny said, “I am impressed.”

“Yeah, Kamekona turned things around pretty quickly, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Danny agreed. “But I was referring to you.”

Steve glanced at him. “Hm?”

“For someone who was so against us having another partner in the restaurant not so long ago, you’re handling this exceptionally well.”

Steve shrugged. “I mean…it’s not like I was against it.” At Danny’s look, Steve said, “I just wasn’t sure yet.”

“Okay.”

Clearly Danny had other thoughts, but he kept them to himself. It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t had the same thought when he’d first considered asking Kamekona. When Danny had mentioned the idea months ago, Steve’s initial reaction had been a hard no. Steve’s was theirs. No one else’s.

You didn’t bring a third person into your marriage.

Now…it didn’t feel like they were bringing someone else into their marriage. It felt more like when they added to their team at 5-0. Bringing in expertise to help, shoring up weaknesses where they needed it. Back then, Steve had seen Steve’s more as his and Danny’s tie to each other; now it was their business.

The ties they had to each other went far beyond business at this point. The shift had been so subtle, so natural, that Steve couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but it had. Sharing the restaurant with people other than Danny didn’t bother him anymore.

Now he just had to figure out what that meant, and how to explain it to Danny.

***

He was no closer to figuring that out when he pulled into the driveway at Danny’s and killed the engine. Steve followed Danny into the house, through the living room and down to Danny’s room. Before Steve could even make a move, Danny had turned around and was pulling Steve’s shirt off him.

“Danny—”

“Shhh,” Danny said, fingers tracing the bruises on Steve’s torso, the touch light and somehow soothing, even as it raised goose bumps on Steve’s skin. He was used to this now, Danny’s need to examine Steve’s injuries after a particularly bad encounter. It even helped—though Steve knew there was absolutely no scientific reason why it should.

Didn’t stop it from lessening the pain, despite the science.

Danny moved around Steve to get to the bruises on his back. Danny’s hands on Steve’s back reminded him of back in the showers at HQ. He’d been ready to throw caution to the wind and have sex right then and there, at least until Junior had accidentally reminded them they were in public.

Thank God he’d made noise before he’d walked in.

Danny’s hands landed on Steve’s waist, his lips on Steve’s back, working their way across the largest of the bruises there. Steve knew from experience his shoulder was going to be stiff from the inflammation alone tomorrow, but right now it wasn’t even hurting, not with Danny giving it such loving attention.

Because there really was no other word for it than loving, even if they’d both stopped saying that exact word somewhere along the way. Almost as if the more truth there was to it, the harder it had been to get the words out.

Maybe that was the way to start the conversation they’d been avoiding. After all, Steve had used his words after he’d come home from Nigeria, and the world hadn’t ended. The sky was still up above, and Danny was still there, his hands and lips mapping Steve’s back like he was going for a Ph.D. in the musculature of Steven McGarrett.

Maybe it was safe to say even more. Maybe he should start by telling Danny he stopped seeing Lynn weeks ago.

Danny moved around to stand in front of Steve again, that fond look sending what little blood was left in Steve’s body straight to his dick. “What’s with the face?” Danny asked.

“Face?”

“Yeah. You.” Danny pointed at Steve’s nose. “With the face?”

Steve shrugged. “Just enjoying the attention.”

The honesty was worth the delighted smile he received in return. Yeah, definitely time to start using words. Or it would be, after this.

Because Danny was guiding Steve over to the bed, helping him onto his back, like he was precious cargo that needed to be protected. Like he couldn’t kill someone twelve different ways with a pen.

Danny was the only one who could get away with that. The only one that Steve didn’t mind, that he enjoyed it from, at least under circumstances like these.

It didn’t hurt that Danny looked down at him like it was Christmas and Steve was the present he’d most wanted, just waiting to be unwrapped. Danny made quick work of the rest of Steve’s clothes, effectively unwrapping him, before getting rid of his own clothing as well.

The feel of Danny’s naked ass on Steve’s thighs never failed to make Steve’s dick jump with the first contact. Danny gave him no time to savor the feeling, though, going straight for the lube and condoms, like he was afraid that maybe Steve would disappear if he didn’t get down to it quickly.

As if there was anywhere Steve could go?

He’d hidden from this for years—hidden it from himself, more accurately. But he was done running. Danny just didn’t know that yet.

Steve would never tire of the way Danny’s body opened up for him, the way it felt as Danny slid down, taking Steve in inch by inch until there was nowhere left for Steve to go, no inch of his dick that wasn’t invading Danny, claiming him inside and out. The way Danny’s face looked as he rode Steve, there was a whole new turn on he didn’t even know he’d had.

He missed the closeness of their bodies pressed against each other, though, the way he could feel Danny’s skin from shoulders to feet when Steve took him other ways. Steve pulled himself up for a kiss, settling into a sitting position on the bed, arms wrapping around Danny’s back, pulling him in until their chests were pressed tightly together.

The angle was different this way. Better, hotter, and better for Danny, too, apparently, if his gasp was any indication. Danny’s slow, restricted movements on Steve’s dick was a new kind of heavenly torment that Steve could get addicted to. Instantly.

It was almost too much, pushing Steve over the edge in no time. Danny spilled out between them, warm and sticky and perfect as Steve fell onto his back, taking Danny with him, holding him tightly as he remembered how to breathe.

He absolutely had to use his words. Had to tell Danny all the things he’d figured out, and hope that he was right in thinking Danny would be glad to hear it.

And he would absolutely do that. Tomorrow.

***

Danny watched, perplexed, as Steve pulled onto the parking lot that was the H1 at 8 a.m. “What are you doing?” Danny asked, as Steve merged in behind another car and stopped.

Steve frowned at him. “I’m stopping because there’s a car in front of me?”

“No, I mean taking the H1. In rush hour.”

“It’s rush hour everywhere, Danny. What’s the difference?”

“Really? You’re going to sit there and pretend like you don’t take sixteen surface streets and several back alleys that only insane people think are roads every morning if it means you’re not sitting on the H1?”

That slight flush of guilt was all Danny needed to know he was right, but Steve wasn’t giving in that easily. “It’s not like we have a case we have to get to.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

They moved forward a few inches before stopping again, and Danny vowed never to be seriously annoyed by Steve’s need to avoid the H1 in rush hour again. Oh he’d bitch about it, but he’d never be seriously annoyed. Because this was torture.

“Okay, seriously,” Danny said. “What gives?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Said in that same voice that used to question the existence of things like Miranda rights. “Right,” Danny said, turning his head to look at the scenery that wasn’t moving. He could bide his time. They were on the H1 in rush hour. He had forever to get Steve to spill.

“So I was thinking,” Steve said after a moment. “You want to have dinner tonight?”

Danny turned to study Steve, who was watching the road like he was in a high speed chase. What the hell? “Don’t we usually have dinner?”

“Yeah, but, you know, actually plan to have dinner. Like at a restaurant.”

Oh for the love of…seriously. This guy. Danny needed his head examined for the unreasonable amount of affection he had for him, especially right now. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Um….” Steve checked his rearview mirror, then over his left shoulder, before pulling into the next lane, which was barely moving, but at least not stopped. “I mean, definitions are so….”

“So then did you make reservations and Lynn backed out on you?”

Steve swerved over into the next lane, which had suddenly started moving. “Um. No.” He scratched the back of his neck, a sure sign that something was up in McGarrett speak. “We actually, uh…we stopped seeing each other.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We decided to be friends.”

Danny counted to three. “When did this happen?”

“A couple weeks ago.”

Weeks? “And you didn’t say anything?”

Steve shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road at the breathtaking speed of 6 miles per hour that required total attention. “It was casual. It’s not like it was a big deal or something, not like you and Melissa. I mean, how long you guys been together?”

“Um…yeah. About that….”

Steve’s attention swerved to Danny faster than he’d switched lanes. “What?”

“We kind of stopped seeing each other last week.” And the things she’d said when he’d broken it off had made a lot more sense, knowing she and Lynn were friends.

Steve did that rapid robot processor blinking thing before just seeming to settle into his seat, for lack of a better way of putting it. “Oh,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face, as he turned his attention back to the road.

“Oh?” Because Danny was going to need a little more than that.

Steve nodded. “Oh.” He glanced at Danny. “So, dinner then?”

“Yeah,” Danny said, because, okay, the H1 probably wasn’t the place to finish this conversation. “Dinner.”

“Great.” Steve shoved the Camaro over onto the shoulder and flipped on the lights and sirens.

Danny grabbed the door. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us off the H1,” Steve said. “This thing is a menace during rush hour.”

Danny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He needed to have his head examined for all the thoughts of relationships it was having right now about someone who was so clearly insane.

Steve gave him a reckless grin and pushed harder on the gas pedal.

Fuck it. Danny gripped the door tighter and held on for the ride.

***

Steve combed through the budget carefully, looking for places to cut. The governor had been adamant about a two percent cut, and he didn’t put it past her to make good on her threat to arbitrarily pick things to remove if he didn’t figure out how to do it.

Normally he’d hand that over to Danny, who was much better at it, but he was currently avoiding any more stares from Danny after the conversation in the car that morning. Because Danny could see right through him, and Steve didn’t want to give him any hints as to what Steve had planned that night.

A knock gave him a welcome distraction. He looked up to see Junior hovering just inside the door. “Sir, do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course.” Steve waved a hand at the chairs across the desk. “Take a seat.”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d come with me. I think I found an apartment.”

Which he didn’t need Steve’s approval for, but Steve approved of him following through on the offer to help him look.

Plus it got him away from Danny for a while.

“Sure,” Steve said, closing down his tablet. “Let’s go.”

***

The neighborhood was a decent one, and the apartment, while not huge, definitely had room for Eddie to hang out without being in the way. There was even a grill by the pool. “This is nice,” Steve said, as he checked out the rooms.

“They just renovated,” Junior said. “And I can get a great deal if I move in today.” Junior’s excitement dimmed as he said, “I’m sorry. I know your house is going to be a little quiet.”

“Yeah, but it’s a great apartment. You’d be crazy to lose it.”

“But here’s the thing about your house, sir. Detective Williams has just the right number of people in his family for the number of rooms in your house.” When Steve didn’t reply right away, Junior backpedaled. “I mean, it’s just a coincidence that he has the same number of people that you have space for, and—”

“Junior.” Steve tried hard not to laugh. “It’s okay.” Because the same thought had been in the back of Steve’s mind a lot longer than he’d realized. It might be possible that half his reason for not wanting Junior to leave was because Steve would have to face that thought. “What do you say we go sign that lease, and then take the rest of the afternoon off and get you moved in?”

“I’d like that, sir. Thank you.”

“Junior, if you really want to thank me? Stop calling me sir all the time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve just shook his head and started out the door.

***

Steve could feel Danny watching him the whole way home from Junior’s new place, but Danny didn’t ask about dinner, and Steve didn’t give any hints. When Steve pulled in front of his house, he left the car running as he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face Danny. “See you back here in an hour?”

“I’m picking you up for the date you asked me out on?” Danny said, voice laced with amusement that took any sting out of the words.

“Maybe.” Steve opened the car door. “If you want to find out, you have to show up.”

He got out before Danny could ask anything else.

***

Fifty-six minutes later, Steve heard the Camaro pull up. He was at the door when Danny knocked, but gave it a second before opening it and ushering Danny in.

Danny stopped inside the door to look Steve up and down. “Nice suit. But no tie?”

Steve nodded at Danny’s neck, which was peeking out between the shirt unbuttoned a couple of buttons. “You’re not wearing one either.”

“Well, I know you like the no tie look,” Danny said, some hint of promise in his voice that made Steve shiver just a little. “So where are you taking me for dinner?”

Steve waved a hand towards the dining room. “Here.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Not exactly the fancy restaurant I imagined,” he said, crossing over to the dining room. He eyed the candles and place settings before turning around with a warm smile. “But I suppose it’ll do.”

His tone said it was fine, and Steve felt his shoulders slip down just a little from their tight spot up near his ears. “Anyone can go to a restaurant, right?”

Danny laughed. “Right. What do you say we make that our slogan?”

“Fair point.” Steve pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at the classic gentleman move, but took the seat without a word. Steve poured wine in both their glasses before sitting down. “To…beginnings,” Steve said, holding his glass out.

Danny tipped his glass against Steve’s and took a sip before saying, “That sounds ominous.”

“Ominous? No, it’s just—”

A loud beeping from the kitchen stopped him. “Hold that thought,” Steve said, as he jumped up. He went into the kitchen and pulled the smoked pork from the oven. Ancient Hawaiians were probably rolling over in their graves at the use of liquid smoke, but since the amount of time he spent protecting the island really cut down on the time it took to build and tend an imu, he thought maybe they’d cut him some slack.

The pork needed time to cool, so he took the salad back into the dining room. Danny looked him up and down again as he walked in, the heat in his gaze enough to make Steve have to adjust himself as he sat down.

No. Focus. Talk first, then dinner, then sex.

Steve handed the salad to Danny, who took some before handing it back. “You know,” Steve said, as he put some salad on his plate, “I was thinking.”

“That’s new.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Very funny. I was thinking that Grace is going to college in a couple years, right?”

“I try very hard not to think about that,” Danny said.

“I know.” He hoped almost as much as Danny did that Grace decided to go to school in Hawaii, but neither one of them would want to deny her the chance to go anywhere she wanted. “But college is expensive, right?”

Danny put his fork down, frown deepening. “Are you trying to depress me here?”

No, he was trying the most compelling of his arguments as to why it made sense for Danny to move in. But clearly this wasn’t the right approach to start with. “I’m just saying…okay, look, we’re together almost all the time, right?”

Danny’s frown was epic now. “You’re not making any sense.”

Fantastic. This was a great approach to getting Danny to move in with him—make him think Steve was insane. “Danny, I—“

Both their phones rang at once. Steve sighed as he pulled his out to see the governor’s name. “Governor,” he answered, as Danny got up and went into the living room to answer his.

“Commander, we have a hostage situation at the Surfrider. I need you and your team down there at once. HPD will brief you on scene.”

“On our way.”

He hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket as Danny walked back in. “That was HPD. We got a thing.”

“Yeah, that was the governor about the thing,” Steve said. “Let me go put dinner in the fridge and we can change and go.”

***

Steve looked down at the ruined leg of his cargo pants, grateful that he’d at least changed out of his suit before they left for the scene. The six inch cut in the pants could have been repaired, but he was pretty sure the blood stains were not coming out.

It was irrelevant anyway. The doctor had cut the pantleg open to make it easier to get to the wound, since pulling them off would’ve only made him bleed worse, or so she’d said. He really hadn’t been paying that much attention—he’d been too busy watching Danny, who was hovering in the corner, eyes fixed on the injury like it was going to open up and devour the rest of Steve’s body or something.

He’d paid attention when the stitches started, though. So had Danny, tensing up at Steve’s hiss he’d never been able to hide at the first poke of the needle when getting stitches. The doctor was six stitches in, and Steve had relaxed, but Danny still looked like each one was stabbing him in the eye.

“Thanks, by the way,” Steve said to Danny, trying to distract him.

“For what?”

“Shooting that guy. If you hadn’t, Doctor Akala here might be stitching up my gut.”

Danny didn’t look calmed by that. “Yeah, well, if you hadn’t charged the guy with the machete, you wouldn’t be getting stitches at all.”

“Okay, a, Danny, it wasn’t a machete, it was a ka-bar. They’re only 7 inches long. Hardly a machete.”

“And yet it left a ten inch cut on your leg.”

Steve rolled his eyes, checking to see the doctor making her tenth stitch, clearly undisturbed by their discussion. “It’s four inches, Danny, if that. Really.”

“Oh, well, that’s so much better.”

Dr. Akala’s mouth twitched as Steve said, “Well, okay, maybe if you’d been a better shot you’d have gotten him at an angle where his knife wouldn’t have cut my leg when he fell.

Danny’s expression said Steve had hit the nail on the head and that was the true issue, but it wasn’t like shining a spotlight on it was going to help. “Well, maybe if you’d been a little faster with whatever you’d been saying before we got the call I wouldn’t have been distracted.”

Distracted my ass. Danny had been laser focused. If he hadn’t, the guy would’ve done his best to gut Steve. But Danny would get to that realization on his own once Steve was on the mend. “Oh? So, what, you want me to rush my question, Danny? I mean, I had bullet points to support the question. I was going to get out a flip chart if I needed to, all to show the long list of reasons why it only makes sense that you move in with me.”

The doctor clearly had some steady hands, because she snorted at that, but managed to finish the last stitch as smoothly as the first thirteen. “I need to go get your paperwork,” the doctor said as she finished, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Steve watched her go before turning his attention to Danny. “Well, there we go,” Danny said. “It’s going to be all over social media in ninety seconds that half of Hawaii’s elite task force is gay.”

He didn’t exactly sound unhappy about it, but still. “That was going to be obvious once we moved in together anyway, Danny.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself that you think I’m going to say yes.”

“I know you.”

Danny ducked his head and smiled. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess you do.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re sure that you don’t just want me around to change the dressing on your wound?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Danny, I’m totally asking you to move into my house, make rooms for your kids, and completely turn my life upside down even more than you already do so someone can change the dressing on my leg for the next couple days.”

“And so you can drive my car.”

“And so I can drive your car. Yes. You’ve figured out my dastardly plan.”

“Dastardly?”

Steve rolled his eyes again. “Daniel.”

“Yes, Steven?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Okay,” Dr. Akala said, breezing back into the room. “Paperwork is all done. Just sign this and you can go.”

Steve took the pen and signed the document, barely looking at it, all his attention on Danny. “Thanks, doc.”

“No problem. You’re going to want to stay off that leg for a day or two, not that I think you’ll listen.” She glanced at Danny, a hint of a smile on her face. “Of course, maybe you’ll have some company to yell at you if you don’t?”

Steve could feel the blush rising up his shoulders to his neck. “Thank you,” he said again.

She nodded, told him to come back if it started to show signs of infection, and left them alone again.

Danny moved to Steve’s side, putting out his arm. “Come on, Rambo, let’s get you home.”

Steve slid off the bed gingerly, only putting enough weight on his bad leg to not fall over. “Home?” he asked. “So is that a yes, then?”

“Yes,” Danny said, giving Steve a smile. “Of course, I should probably have my head examined for it, but yes.”

Steve pulled him into a hug, then a kiss before turning to face forward, leaning on Danny for support. “Okay, then,” Steve said, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go home.”

---
END