And the violence created such silence - R - Steve/Danny pre-slash
Title: And the violence created such silence
Author name: delicatale
Artist name: zoronoa ( Link to art)
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Steve/Danny pre-slash
Rating: R
Word count: 5,167
Warnings/Spoilers: a lot of gore and blood and zombies popping everywhere
Summary: The Illikai is a safe haven in Honolulu, and Danny will do anything to get there to be with Grace. Steve will stop at nothing for Danny to get to his daughter, even if it involves killing everything in his wake and blood on Danny's tie (which irritates Danny greatly).
From timing belts to washcloths and soap, without forgetting golf clubs and tennis rackets, Steve has collected all sorts of weapons to make his and Danny's journey down Ala Moana Boulevard as safe as possible. But that doesn't mean it won't be messy.
A/N: I have got the BEST art and I am so excited for you guys to see it, so go ahead to zoronoa's lj and give her all the love about it, okay? Because it's AMAZING.
All the thanks go to tailoredshirt and stjarna1984 for all the help and the betaing and the hand holding (thanks to sirona_gs for that too!).
“What do you have in there?”
Danny points to Steve’s backpack, and gets a shrug in answer.
“Weapons.”
In truth, anything and everything Steve could find on his way to Danny’s and that could be used as a weapon has made its way into Steve’s backpack, cargo pockets, waistband and socks. It’s an impressive collection but it’s not going to be enough either, Steve knows it - staplers only work so far when it comes to killing zombies.
Zombies. Not that his life hasn’t been a little crazy this past year, but this, this is definitely taking the cake. They’re in the middle of the freaking Apocalypse, Hawai’i quarantined away from the rest of the world. It took a few hours, maybe, maybe it took a day, at the very most, for everything to fall apart. An unidentified, mutating virus, Steve had been told before the phone lines stopped working, infecting the Queen’s Medical Center and then, the rest of the island.
The Illikai has been declared a safe zone, surrounded by military and kept clean of any infected - any zombies, fuck, Steve needs to get used to saying that. So that’s his goal, and it’s Danny’s, too, which is why they’re both here, now, because Grace is over there and Steve will get Danny to his daughter, even if it costs him his life. Steve also needs to make sure that Kono and Chin are okay in the Illikai - Chin sent a text that they were on their way there earlier, but they’ve had no news since.
And the Camaro had been smashed by - in truth, Steve doesn’t know. Angry zombies? Teenage thugs? Who knew, and most of the cars they’d tried to hotwire had been running out of gas, or broken down, so that was that, and now, they’re walking.
“Weapons, he says. Weapons like what? Because you do realize guns won’t help in this situation, Steven, we’re dealing with zombies here - I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, zombies, McGarrett, are not killed by bullets.”
“I know. I didn’t say they were conventional weapons, D, I’m just saying they’re weapons.”
Danny himself is swinging a baseball bat from side to side, changing his stance, holding it like it’s a sword and thrusting and parring with it as if he’s in The Lord of the Rings. It’d be hilarious if there weren’t zombies walking towards them.
“Okay, so what do you have in there?”
Steve reaches back, and grabs the first thing that come to his hands, grinning at Danny as he brandishes it. He has to look ridiculous, but Danny doesn’t even laugh, just cocks his head to the side.
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“This, Steve, this is a morningstar. This looks like it belongs in a museum, what are you doing with this? You know, when you said weapons I thought oh, grenades, knives, maybe a bomb or two, not a freaking morningstar!”
“It was in the office at home! My dad liked nice weapons, okay?”
Danny’s about to reply when a guttural whine makes him turn around, his baseball bat smashing into the side of the zombie’s head, going through like a knife would through butter. The thing falls to the ground with another groan, and for a while it spasms before giving up and going still.
“Well. At least they’re...brittle?”
Danny holds up a hand at Steve’s words, shaking his head. He looks a little sick, and he’s got chunky blood trailing down his fingertips. His grip is going to get slippery soon, but when he sees Steve open his mouth, he holds up his free hand.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Let’s go.”
Danny flicks his wrist, looking straight ahead, at the road they have to walk and all the undead walking towards them. Side by side, they start walking, shoulders straight and eyes on the zombies. It’s not long before Steve is flinging the spiked ball of his morningstar into the skull of an old looking man, his jaw going flying and splattering on the sidewalk, his dead eyes staring straight at Steve, without really seeing him. Another hit and the zombie falls, his head split open, grey matter sticking to the spikes of the morningstar Steve is still flinging around. He spares a look for Danny, seeing him dig his now broken bat right between the eyes of a woman and leave it there. Steve reaches back for another weapon and throws it at Danny.
“Here!”
They don’t have time to stop, they shouldn’t have time to stop, but Danny stills anyway, looking at the instrument in his hand with confusion.
“What is that?”
“Pineapple corer.”
Steve answers before working a 360 degrees spin that sends the morningstar spiked ball crashing into two zombies, one after the other, their faces exploding under the impact, and Steve can feel blood splatters on his face, warm and wet, running down his cheek and temple.
“A pineapple corer, he says. How am I - actually? I don’t even want to know -” Danny dives the pineapple corer into a zombie’s eye, and when he pulls, he takes half of a brain along with him, making the creature fall to the ground with a pitiful groan. “What you would do with this. I’m sure you have a million and one ways to kill people with kitchen utensils, and I’m also sure I don’t want to know what they are. Oh, motherfucker!”
“What?”
“I got blood on my tie!”
Danny turns a mildly sad, mostly annoyed look to Steve, holding up his neckwear between two fingers dripping with blood themselves. The royal blue tie is dotted with crimson, bits of gore drifting down along its length.
“Gracie gave it to me.”
“You have about twenty other ties that Gracie gave to you. You’ll survive.”
“It doesn’t make any of them less important. Fuck, Steve.”
The anguish is obvious in Danny’s eyes, but Steve refuses to acknowledge it, to let either of them think about any of it, anything else than mere survival, getting to the Illikai.
“She’s fine, Danny, come on, we've got to go on.”
They have a while to go yet, and more zombies coming toward them. Steve licks his lips, clenches his jaw, and wedges his weapon in a zombie’s chest, his bloodied grip slipping off the handle when the ghoul staggers backwards with the force of the blow. Steve wipes his hands on his cargoes, terrifying handprints smearing the light fabric, and goes for his pockets, setting his dad’s favorites pens between his knuckles and punching the zombie closest to him, feeling the metal of the pens sink in blood and guts. Steve changes his angle when he pulls back, ripping rotten skin and bits of skull along, the monster falling to the ground. Steve finishes it with his boot, turning to Danny, making sure he’s okay. His partner is cutting holes through every zombie walking close enough to him, streaks of blood over his face, making him look even deadlier than he already is, and so angry Steve can’t see the desperation Danny must be feeling anymore.
“Danny!”
Steve throws him the golf club he had slung over his back, grinning a little madly when Danny catches it and cackles, somewhat manically, dropping the pineapple corer, heavy with zombie bits dripping from it.
“You got more where that comes from?”
“A lot. See, I knew you’d appreciate me getting weapons.”
“No, Steve, I’m sorry, but these are still not weapons. They are means of surviving, fair enough.” Danny smacks a zombie full in the face with the gold club, the swing sending the monster’s nose flying off into the air. “But they are not weapons. They won’t help when all of this is over, let me assure you. Well, maybe the golf club could, but I doubt you’ll go far with living perps using pens. What else do you got in there, a stapler?”
“Actually, yes. I thought, maybe.”
Steve knows he looks sheepish, and Danny makes a face that looks almost fond, through the blood and the sweat and the grime. Steve doesn’t have time to dwell on it, a zombie falling over him, and he has to push him - her - away before driving the pens in her eyes, crunching her head with his boot when she hits the ground.They keep on going, him and Danny, a few feet separating them, zombie parts sticking to their clothes and hands.
“What, that you could staple zombie’s faces together? Won’t kill them, babe.”
“Could slow them down enough to kill them.”
“Don’t use the stapler, Steve.”
“Fine, I won’t.”
Steve bites his lip when he feels himself pouting a little, grabbing the tennis racket he found in Danny’s flat - Grace’s - and rolling his wrist while holding it, assuring his grip. They have about 30 seconds of walking in peace before a new wave of zombies come from the buildings on either side of them, almost enough to overwhelm them, but not quite. Steve smashes the racket in a creature’s face, feeling the chords dig in the rotting flesh. The zombie goes flying with the strength of the blow, crashing into another one, and they turn on each other right away, leaving Steve stunned. Then, he grins.
“Advantage McGarrett.”
An indignant snort comes from Steve’s side, and he turns, crashing the tennis racket on a zombie’s head.
“You -” the golf club smashes a skull. “Did not,” another swing, this time Danny uses the club as a hammer, driving the clubhead in the back of a zombie’s neck. “Just say that.”
“What? I thought it was witty!”
Steve abandons the broken racket, going for the next thing in his backpack, smiling when his fingers close around it. He pulls out the timing belt he yanked from the Marquis in the morning and lets it hang from his hand, before he loops it around a zombie’s neck and tightens the hold, crossing his hands, letting the dents and the pressure do the job. He grimaces when the monster’s eyes bulge in his head, right before his head pops up, like a Poptart out of the toaster, landing a few feet away from them. He can’t help the snicker that escapes him as he wipes gore and a bit of decayed skin off his forehead.
“Seriously, you need help, Steve. is this a game to you, really? Do you think it’s fun?”
“Well, don’t you?”
Danny gives him the most aggravated look Steve has ever seen. There are specks of blood all over his shirt and tie, that he’s still wearing. Steve would be almost impressed if he didn’t think it was ridiculous.
“I’ll admit it’s a good workout, but I wouldn’t say it’s fun, no. Those were people, you know? And now, now they’re all rotten and they smell, seriously, how can they smell that bad, I don’t understand, it’s unnatural.”
“Unnatural is putting it mildly.”
Danny makes a sound, something close to a strangled groan, and then he swings the golf club into the face of an incoming zombie, sending him stumbling in a bin. The used-to-be man falls over himself with a guttural noise, falling backwards in the bin, his legs flailing helplessly in the air. Steve has to chuckle.
“You’re going to tell me this is not funny?”
“There’s a difference between fun, and funny, Steve, do you need me to explain it to you? Because I will, you know I will. I don’t even care if you want to swing your - timing belt - at me while I do so. How is this a weapon?”
“It’s sharp and dented, how is it not a weapon? Danny, they take your laces off in prison. Everything is a weapon.”
“I know that, you think I don’t know that? I’ve been in prison before, babe, okay, you do not have the monopoly of having been in prison. Also, I am a detective, I know how it works, okay. However, we are not in prison right now.”
“No, just in the middle of a freaking zombie apocalypse.”
“Please, don’t remind me.”
Steve rolls his eyes - Danny has a tendency for the melodramatic. They go on Ala Moana Boulevard, taking in their deserted surroundings, the fire lapping up the sides of some buildings, the cars abandoned in the middle of the road, the low, horrible moans and groans coming from the zombies coming their way.
“Hey, if we find oranges and soap somewhere, we can make explosives, it could be useful.”
“I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore. Can you explain to me, how would you go on and do that, while we’re on our way to the Illikai? Because last time I checked, making explosives was dangerous business, playing with unstable elements, never mind needing utensils we definitely don’t have at hand. Oh, wait, you have your Mary Poppins backpack, maybe you do have all we need at hand!”
Steve blows out a breath, twirling his timing belt over two of his fingers. There are three zombies coming their way, walking closely together, and Steve reaches down to his pants pocket, the deep one along his thigh, and pulls out the bottle of whiskey he’s stashed there. Biting on his shirt sleeve, he rips enough of it to stuff in the neck of the bottle, setting it on fire quickly.
“Why are you so angry, Danno?”
Steve throws the bottle, which explodes at the zombies’ feet, fire lapping up their frayed clothes.
“I have blood on my tie!”
Never mind the blood all over the rest of him, Danny is still looking dejectedly at his tie, the knot loose and crooked. Steve can’t help himself, he reaches out and puts the tie back in order, his fingers sticking with blood as he rights the knot. Danny lets out a shaky breath as he looks down at Steve’s fingers over his chest. His hair is matted with blood and gunk, blond streaked with red and black.
“We’ll get the best dry cleaner in the island to get this blood out of it when this is over, Danny.”
For once he’s talking softly, his fingers trailing down the tie, and Danny nods, looking lost for all of three seconds, before he steps away, just enough to swing at a zombie coming to their side, the strength of the blow cutting the monster in half in the middle, guts spilling out and tangling around the golf club. Danny lets out a curse, shaking them off with a disgusted look on his face, and Steve feels like killing after this zombie has decided to break the Moment he and Danny were having.
They walk past the burning zombies and Steve wishes he had more alcohol to make molotovs with. It’s proven useful but he doesn’t have any other, and he’s not quite willing to walk into one of the stores to get some more alcohol. So many have been looted already, windows smashed, and yet, Steve doesn’t want to make it worse. They’re not so far away from the Illikai anymore, they can do this with what they’ve got.
“Why did you stop? Come on, Steve, we can’t stop now.” Danny sounds a little scared, but mostly tired, a breathless fluctuation to his voice that tells Steve they need to move faster, or Danny’s going to give up - not necessarily because of physical exhaustion.
“Was just thinking of molotovs cocktails. Nevermind, Danny. How’s the golf club holding up? Is it good?”
“It’s good. It’s ridiculously primitive for a weapon, but it’s good. It’s doing the job. I wish I had a shotgun.”
“A shotgun wouldn’t kill them.”
“Wanna bet? I wouldn’t shoot them in the knees, Steve, I would shoot them in the face!” The words are vicious because Danny says them as he drives his golf club through a zombie’s skull, pulling it out, along with half a brain, with a few sharp tugs. Steve grimaces at how wonderfully obscene it is, the whole of it; they’ve left a trail of corpses behind them, bloody footprints all over a deserted Ala Moana Boulevard, like they’re the only two remaining living souls in the whole city. It’d be almost romantic, if it wasn’t so fucked up.
“Hey, Danny?”
“Yeah?”
Steve throws the timing belt right in a zombie’s face, cutting it in two efficiently. The sides of the creature’s head fall each to one side, exposing his insides as he falls to his knees. grey matter dripping to the ground.
“It’s like you’re taking pleasure in killing them as messily as possible. We are not in a video game, Steve, you are not getting bonus points for style. What were you going to ask me?”
“When this is all over, we should go out.”
“What, go out for beers and steak?”
“Yeah, but like, on a date.” Steve feels himself reddening like a fucking blushing virgin, and he’s not that ridiculous, okay, he’s had sex before, what the hell is wrong with him? It’s not like it’s not obvious to the two of them that they’re heading this way anyway. They’ve been dancing around the issue for ages now, using every chance they get to touch and tease each other.
And right now, they’re so close to dying, the two of them, fighting zombies with car parts and sports equipment, it feels stupid not to risk it.
“Steve, how long have we known each other now?”
“Um, about two and a half years.”
“Right. And for all this time, you choose now to ask me out? Not that I would say yes, it’s not even my point right now, I just can’t believe you’d wait for us to be in the middle of the freaking end of humanity to ask me out on a date!”
Steve feels dread fill him, a frown settling itself on his face as his timing belt gets stuck in a zombie’s skull, dents digging hard in the bone, and he has to leave it behind.
“You wouldn’t say yes?”
“Of course I’d say yes, but what did I say? Not the point, McGarrett! The point is, we have no idea if this will ever be over, it might be over when we get eaten by zombies! And then, what good will it do that I said yes, huh? No good, that’s what. No good at all. Because we’ll be dead. Or undead, I don’t know which one’s worst.”
Steve grins, reaching into his backpack for his next weapon - he’s collected everything and anything on his way, but, okay, he did not expect what he finds under his fingers. He must have left it in the bottom of his bag before all of this started.
“Well, if we’re both zombies, we can eat each other. It could be considered amorous, no?”
Danny closes his eyes for a second, looking split between wanting to laugh hysterically and run for the hills, his lips a thin white line, trembling at the corners. The moment it takes him to reach his inner peace, Steve uses to throw the bar of soap he found in the bottom of his bag at an upcoming zombie, making it stumble. He quickly douses the washcloth he found wrapped around the soap with the mouthwash that made up his quick fix cleaning kit, and sets it on fire, throwing it at the zombie, who lets out a long cry of agony as its face melts in the heat.
“Did you just kill a zombie with a bar of soap and a washcloth?”
“And mouthwash.”
“I didn’t know mouthwash was flammable.”
“It was a gamble, but mouthwash usually contains alcohol, so I thought I’d risk it.”
“I don’t whether to be impressed or really terrified. Oh, look, a spade, perfect, my club is starting to get lopsided.”
Steve gives it a look, and indeed, the clubhead and handle are fine, but the long, fine body is curved from the multitude of impacts against zombies, distorted into a unwieldy shape. Danny drops it and grabs the spade lying at the front of a gardening store, and rolls it between his hands a few times.
“Heavy, but it’ll do.”
Steve listens to Danny protest when he shows him his next weapon. He’s been expecting it.
“Can’t you find something with a handle and that can get them from afar? Like, I don’t know, a katana or maybe a Magnum? Do you really think it’s necessary for you to use pens and soap and, now, knuckledusters? We are not fighting a street gang - albeit I’ll give you it’s possible some of these zombies were part of one before.”
“Albeit?”
“What? It’s a word!”
“A word nobody uses. And I didn’t have time to think about it, okay, I just grabbed what I could, I’m sorry if it’s not up to your standards!”
“Please, seriously, grab something else, you’re going to break your hands attacking them with just that, or they’ll bite you, and then you’ll never buy me a steak.”
Steve sighs, reaching into his backpack again, his fingers closing around something Danny would approve of. He brandishes the blow torch with a grin, thanking the heavens his father liked baking enough to get himself one of these.
“That is what I’m talking about!”
Danny grins back, and Steve feels his insides flutter stupidly, like they’re on that date they’ve talked about and not about to face five zombies coming towards them. They brace themselves for it, Danny striking first, beheading one with a swift move, the sharp edge of the spade going through the zombie’s neck smoothly, the head going flying, a sickening splattering sound resonating around them when it hits the ground, spitting blood as it bounces around.
They don’t watch the show for long, the rest of the pack advancing on them. Steve burns two and Danny sends the other two knocking into each other, the zombies ferociously attacking each other, ripping rotten flesh off of each other’s faces. Danny makes a face as he jogs around them, slipping on a patch of black guts and gripping Steve’s arm to keep steady.
“These two are trying to eat each other, and it’s not amorous, babe. So we need to get to the Illikai alive, okay? I know I pissed off some karma god or something a while ago, maybe because of that graffiti-and-pot phase, I’m sorry really, I was a teenager,” Danny yells at the sky, before starting to walk again, putting distance between them and the zombies at their back. “But even though, I think I deserve it, Steve. I’ve been working my ass off putting people in jail, and I’ve suffered you for a while now, and I’m playing nice with my ex-wife, and I’m being as good a dad as I can be. So really, I deserve to stay alive long enough to watch you pay for a meal for me.”
“I agree.”
“I’m glad.”
Steve smiles at Danny, and Danny ends up chuckling after a moment. The two of them looking worse for fear, covered in blood, walking down Ala Moana with their makeshift weapons, shoulders hunched, muscles aching, faces grim and weary. Somehow, Steve thinks Danny looks proud, too, strong and fierce, fighting his way to his little girl, if it’s the last thing he does.
“Okay, come on, we don’t have much further to go. The Illikai’s just there.”
They can see it better now, closer, tall and the promise of safety and reuniting Danny with Grace. Steve suddenly wants to run, but he can see the zombies on their way and he’s not about to let them go by.
Steve alternates between using the blow torch to boil zombie’s brains and using his close combat skills, watching Danny swing the spade this way and that, sometimes using the edge to behead, sometimes using the flat to crush. At one point, he drives the pointy end of the spade into a fallen zombie’s neck with a cry of triumph, and Steve smirks.
“No bonus points for style, you say? Shame, that move is a good ten.”
“This competition would be skewed, to be fair.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d win with my clothes alone. You and I, we don’t play in the same sandpit when it comes to style. I, for one, know what the word means.”
“You wear ties in Hawai’i and I’m the one with bad clothes?”
“You wear shirts that come in packs of three.”
“You wear underwear that comes in packs of three.”
“Well, at least my underwear is concealed by nice fitting pants. Your shirts are in plain view, and your underwear, that also comes in packs of three when it’s not swimming trunks, by the way, is concealed by cargo pants.”
“They’re comfortable, and the pockets can come in handy. I always wonder if you’re going to rip your pants when we’re chasing after a suspect.”
“We shouldn’t have to chase after suspects so much! And I’m sure you can’t wait for the day my pants do rip, you pervert.”
“Well, I do admit they show a very nice side of you.”
Steve bends back to give Danny’s backside a meaningful look, earning himself a swipe and a murderous glare. Then he yelps. “Steve!”
The spade’s edge burrows itself in a zombie’s head that came leaping from the inside of a car they’re walking past while Steve was distracted by Danny’s ass, and Steve spins, ducking under the spade and punching the zombie with his hand still sporting the knuckledusters, feeling flesh and bone give in under the blow, and Steve finds himself having to shake the zombie’s face off his hand.
“Fucking zombies.”
“Well, if you were a little more focused on the task at hand,” Danny says, pulling his spade from the now unmoving zombie and striding forward again. “Instead of being focused on my ass, maybe this wouldn’t happen.”
“Hey, I’m sure if we do a head count I killed more than you.”
“Oh, my God, are we in fourth grade now? Are we actually ten and making this a competition?”
“No. Hey, you started it!”
Danny doesn’t answer, just stomps forward with this obviously irritated look on his face, and Steve can only follow, his eyes darting everywhere for more zombies, but it’s surprisingly calm, scarily calm. The lack of birds chirping, cars honking and people talking makes the city eerie, like it’s ready to fall in on itself, giving itself up to the apocalypse that hit it. Steve rolls his shoulders and squares himself up, not willing to let Honolulu go down without a fight.
“Once we get to the Illikai, I’ll go out again with a group of soldiers. They must have scientists and people working on this, maybe they have a cure, or have determined a source, and with some heavy weaponry, we can go out.”
“No.”
“What?”
Danny stops, turns to look at Steve, his face looking even angrier with the blood drying in streaks and splatters over his skin.
“I said, no.”
“You don’t get to tell me no, Danny.”
“See, this is where you’re wrong. I can and I am. We’ve been fucking lucky, Steve, okay? We have, I acknowledge that and I am glad, I am seriously glad that we are both still alive right now, and when we get to safety and I get a shower and a hug from my daughter, I’m going to call everyone I know and tell them I love them, because I am thankful to be alive. We are stupidly, incredibly lucky, and I am saying no to you going out again because your luck will run out, and then you’ll get killed before I get my date, before we both get laid, and for that reason alone I am telling you, Steve, no.”
“You mean you’ll put out on the first date?”
“Why do you always focus on the most random parts of what I’m telling you?” Danny sighs. “Does that mean you won’t go back out?”
Steve looks around them, the empty street, and he can see the shadows of soldiers now, as they get closer and closer to the Illikai. Soon they’ll be spotted and surrounded, sent for examination to make sure they weren’t contaminated. The military has all sorts of procedures for these kind of situations, but Steve’s not going to get into this with Danny, he might give his partner an actual, not-a-joke aneurism.
“Okay, I won’t go back out. Not just yet, anyway, because I’d like to get laid.”
“There we go! Baby steps, Steve. I’m willing to try and convince you again not to go out later, as long as you allow yourself to rest for a while. Fuck, I am tired.”
They’re definitely in a clear zone, now, because they haven’t seen the back of a zombie for a good five minutes and that hasn’t happened since this whole thing started. Steve looks down at his blow torch a little forlornly. It’s a really good weapon, he wishes he’d gotten it out earlier. Instead, he’d used soap.
“Okay. Later. So when are we going on our date?”
“Can we order room service, you think? I don’t know if the staff still works. I guess not.”
“We could raid the kitchens, I’m sure they have some steaks.”
“This place will never hold, you realize. What happens when the kitchens are empty?”
“There’s a shopping center not far. Why are you worrying about that stuff? You’re too tired to worry about that stuff.”
“I worry, Steve, it’s what I do. Let me worry, will you?”
Soldiers are coming their way, now, jogging up to them, clad in military khakis and blacks, and Danny drops the spade, swaying and then sagging with relief as he clings to Steve, his grip slippery with blood.
“We did it. We’re alive. I get to see Grace.”
Steve chuckles, feeling some sort of hysterical laugh bubbling up his throat as he runs his hand through Danny’s hair, uncaring that they’re surrounded by soldiers, uncaring that his hand is filthy with grime and soot and blood. He can barely see the blond in Danny’s hair anymore.
“And we get to go on a date.”
Danny bursts out laughing, pulling away from Steve as soldiers ask them to state their name, if they’re okay, step this way please, we have to check you out, do not put up a fight or we’ll shoot you down, no hesitation. Danny gives Steve a lasting look as he lets soldiers lead him to a chemical shower.
“Holding you to that one, McGarrett!”
THE END
Now, there's more art! Click on the images to see them bigger. I urge you to, because, just, BRILLIANT, the details and the work that has been put into this, it deserves all your attention.
Author name: delicatale
Artist name: zoronoa ( Link to art)
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Steve/Danny pre-slash
Rating: R
Word count: 5,167
Warnings/Spoilers: a lot of gore and blood and zombies popping everywhere
Summary: The Illikai is a safe haven in Honolulu, and Danny will do anything to get there to be with Grace. Steve will stop at nothing for Danny to get to his daughter, even if it involves killing everything in his wake and blood on Danny's tie (which irritates Danny greatly).
From timing belts to washcloths and soap, without forgetting golf clubs and tennis rackets, Steve has collected all sorts of weapons to make his and Danny's journey down Ala Moana Boulevard as safe as possible. But that doesn't mean it won't be messy.
A/N: I have got the BEST art and I am so excited for you guys to see it, so go ahead to zoronoa's lj and give her all the love about it, okay? Because it's AMAZING.
All the thanks go to tailoredshirt and stjarna1984 for all the help and the betaing and the hand holding (thanks to sirona_gs for that too!).
“What do you have in there?”
Danny points to Steve’s backpack, and gets a shrug in answer.
“Weapons.”
In truth, anything and everything Steve could find on his way to Danny’s and that could be used as a weapon has made its way into Steve’s backpack, cargo pockets, waistband and socks. It’s an impressive collection but it’s not going to be enough either, Steve knows it - staplers only work so far when it comes to killing zombies.
Zombies. Not that his life hasn’t been a little crazy this past year, but this, this is definitely taking the cake. They’re in the middle of the freaking Apocalypse, Hawai’i quarantined away from the rest of the world. It took a few hours, maybe, maybe it took a day, at the very most, for everything to fall apart. An unidentified, mutating virus, Steve had been told before the phone lines stopped working, infecting the Queen’s Medical Center and then, the rest of the island.
The Illikai has been declared a safe zone, surrounded by military and kept clean of any infected - any zombies, fuck, Steve needs to get used to saying that. So that’s his goal, and it’s Danny’s, too, which is why they’re both here, now, because Grace is over there and Steve will get Danny to his daughter, even if it costs him his life. Steve also needs to make sure that Kono and Chin are okay in the Illikai - Chin sent a text that they were on their way there earlier, but they’ve had no news since.
And the Camaro had been smashed by - in truth, Steve doesn’t know. Angry zombies? Teenage thugs? Who knew, and most of the cars they’d tried to hotwire had been running out of gas, or broken down, so that was that, and now, they’re walking.
“Weapons, he says. Weapons like what? Because you do realize guns won’t help in this situation, Steven, we’re dealing with zombies here - I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, zombies, McGarrett, are not killed by bullets.”
“I know. I didn’t say they were conventional weapons, D, I’m just saying they’re weapons.”
Danny himself is swinging a baseball bat from side to side, changing his stance, holding it like it’s a sword and thrusting and parring with it as if he’s in The Lord of the Rings. It’d be hilarious if there weren’t zombies walking towards them.
“Okay, so what do you have in there?”
Steve reaches back, and grabs the first thing that come to his hands, grinning at Danny as he brandishes it. He has to look ridiculous, but Danny doesn’t even laugh, just cocks his head to the side.
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“This, Steve, this is a morningstar. This looks like it belongs in a museum, what are you doing with this? You know, when you said weapons I thought oh, grenades, knives, maybe a bomb or two, not a freaking morningstar!”
“It was in the office at home! My dad liked nice weapons, okay?”
Danny’s about to reply when a guttural whine makes him turn around, his baseball bat smashing into the side of the zombie’s head, going through like a knife would through butter. The thing falls to the ground with another groan, and for a while it spasms before giving up and going still.
“Well. At least they’re...brittle?”
Danny holds up a hand at Steve’s words, shaking his head. He looks a little sick, and he’s got chunky blood trailing down his fingertips. His grip is going to get slippery soon, but when he sees Steve open his mouth, he holds up his free hand.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Let’s go.”
Danny flicks his wrist, looking straight ahead, at the road they have to walk and all the undead walking towards them. Side by side, they start walking, shoulders straight and eyes on the zombies. It’s not long before Steve is flinging the spiked ball of his morningstar into the skull of an old looking man, his jaw going flying and splattering on the sidewalk, his dead eyes staring straight at Steve, without really seeing him. Another hit and the zombie falls, his head split open, grey matter sticking to the spikes of the morningstar Steve is still flinging around. He spares a look for Danny, seeing him dig his now broken bat right between the eyes of a woman and leave it there. Steve reaches back for another weapon and throws it at Danny.
“Here!”
They don’t have time to stop, they shouldn’t have time to stop, but Danny stills anyway, looking at the instrument in his hand with confusion.
“What is that?”
“Pineapple corer.”
Steve answers before working a 360 degrees spin that sends the morningstar spiked ball crashing into two zombies, one after the other, their faces exploding under the impact, and Steve can feel blood splatters on his face, warm and wet, running down his cheek and temple.
“A pineapple corer, he says. How am I - actually? I don’t even want to know -” Danny dives the pineapple corer into a zombie’s eye, and when he pulls, he takes half of a brain along with him, making the creature fall to the ground with a pitiful groan. “What you would do with this. I’m sure you have a million and one ways to kill people with kitchen utensils, and I’m also sure I don’t want to know what they are. Oh, motherfucker!”
“What?”
“I got blood on my tie!”
Danny turns a mildly sad, mostly annoyed look to Steve, holding up his neckwear between two fingers dripping with blood themselves. The royal blue tie is dotted with crimson, bits of gore drifting down along its length.
“Gracie gave it to me.”
“You have about twenty other ties that Gracie gave to you. You’ll survive.”
“It doesn’t make any of them less important. Fuck, Steve.”
The anguish is obvious in Danny’s eyes, but Steve refuses to acknowledge it, to let either of them think about any of it, anything else than mere survival, getting to the Illikai.
“She’s fine, Danny, come on, we've got to go on.”
They have a while to go yet, and more zombies coming toward them. Steve licks his lips, clenches his jaw, and wedges his weapon in a zombie’s chest, his bloodied grip slipping off the handle when the ghoul staggers backwards with the force of the blow. Steve wipes his hands on his cargoes, terrifying handprints smearing the light fabric, and goes for his pockets, setting his dad’s favorites pens between his knuckles and punching the zombie closest to him, feeling the metal of the pens sink in blood and guts. Steve changes his angle when he pulls back, ripping rotten skin and bits of skull along, the monster falling to the ground. Steve finishes it with his boot, turning to Danny, making sure he’s okay. His partner is cutting holes through every zombie walking close enough to him, streaks of blood over his face, making him look even deadlier than he already is, and so angry Steve can’t see the desperation Danny must be feeling anymore.
“Danny!”
Steve throws him the golf club he had slung over his back, grinning a little madly when Danny catches it and cackles, somewhat manically, dropping the pineapple corer, heavy with zombie bits dripping from it.
“You got more where that comes from?”
“A lot. See, I knew you’d appreciate me getting weapons.”
“No, Steve, I’m sorry, but these are still not weapons. They are means of surviving, fair enough.” Danny smacks a zombie full in the face with the gold club, the swing sending the monster’s nose flying off into the air. “But they are not weapons. They won’t help when all of this is over, let me assure you. Well, maybe the golf club could, but I doubt you’ll go far with living perps using pens. What else do you got in there, a stapler?”
“Actually, yes. I thought, maybe.”
Steve knows he looks sheepish, and Danny makes a face that looks almost fond, through the blood and the sweat and the grime. Steve doesn’t have time to dwell on it, a zombie falling over him, and he has to push him - her - away before driving the pens in her eyes, crunching her head with his boot when she hits the ground.They keep on going, him and Danny, a few feet separating them, zombie parts sticking to their clothes and hands.
“What, that you could staple zombie’s faces together? Won’t kill them, babe.”
“Could slow them down enough to kill them.”
“Don’t use the stapler, Steve.”
“Fine, I won’t.”
Steve bites his lip when he feels himself pouting a little, grabbing the tennis racket he found in Danny’s flat - Grace’s - and rolling his wrist while holding it, assuring his grip. They have about 30 seconds of walking in peace before a new wave of zombies come from the buildings on either side of them, almost enough to overwhelm them, but not quite. Steve smashes the racket in a creature’s face, feeling the chords dig in the rotting flesh. The zombie goes flying with the strength of the blow, crashing into another one, and they turn on each other right away, leaving Steve stunned. Then, he grins.
“Advantage McGarrett.”
An indignant snort comes from Steve’s side, and he turns, crashing the tennis racket on a zombie’s head.
“You -” the golf club smashes a skull. “Did not,” another swing, this time Danny uses the club as a hammer, driving the clubhead in the back of a zombie’s neck. “Just say that.”
“What? I thought it was witty!”
Steve abandons the broken racket, going for the next thing in his backpack, smiling when his fingers close around it. He pulls out the timing belt he yanked from the Marquis in the morning and lets it hang from his hand, before he loops it around a zombie’s neck and tightens the hold, crossing his hands, letting the dents and the pressure do the job. He grimaces when the monster’s eyes bulge in his head, right before his head pops up, like a Poptart out of the toaster, landing a few feet away from them. He can’t help the snicker that escapes him as he wipes gore and a bit of decayed skin off his forehead.
“Seriously, you need help, Steve. is this a game to you, really? Do you think it’s fun?”
“Well, don’t you?”
Danny gives him the most aggravated look Steve has ever seen. There are specks of blood all over his shirt and tie, that he’s still wearing. Steve would be almost impressed if he didn’t think it was ridiculous.
“I’ll admit it’s a good workout, but I wouldn’t say it’s fun, no. Those were people, you know? And now, now they’re all rotten and they smell, seriously, how can they smell that bad, I don’t understand, it’s unnatural.”
“Unnatural is putting it mildly.”
Danny makes a sound, something close to a strangled groan, and then he swings the golf club into the face of an incoming zombie, sending him stumbling in a bin. The used-to-be man falls over himself with a guttural noise, falling backwards in the bin, his legs flailing helplessly in the air. Steve has to chuckle.
“You’re going to tell me this is not funny?”
“There’s a difference between fun, and funny, Steve, do you need me to explain it to you? Because I will, you know I will. I don’t even care if you want to swing your - timing belt - at me while I do so. How is this a weapon?”
“It’s sharp and dented, how is it not a weapon? Danny, they take your laces off in prison. Everything is a weapon.”
“I know that, you think I don’t know that? I’ve been in prison before, babe, okay, you do not have the monopoly of having been in prison. Also, I am a detective, I know how it works, okay. However, we are not in prison right now.”
“No, just in the middle of a freaking zombie apocalypse.”
“Please, don’t remind me.”
Steve rolls his eyes - Danny has a tendency for the melodramatic. They go on Ala Moana Boulevard, taking in their deserted surroundings, the fire lapping up the sides of some buildings, the cars abandoned in the middle of the road, the low, horrible moans and groans coming from the zombies coming their way.
“Hey, if we find oranges and soap somewhere, we can make explosives, it could be useful.”
“I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore. Can you explain to me, how would you go on and do that, while we’re on our way to the Illikai? Because last time I checked, making explosives was dangerous business, playing with unstable elements, never mind needing utensils we definitely don’t have at hand. Oh, wait, you have your Mary Poppins backpack, maybe you do have all we need at hand!”
Steve blows out a breath, twirling his timing belt over two of his fingers. There are three zombies coming their way, walking closely together, and Steve reaches down to his pants pocket, the deep one along his thigh, and pulls out the bottle of whiskey he’s stashed there. Biting on his shirt sleeve, he rips enough of it to stuff in the neck of the bottle, setting it on fire quickly.
“Why are you so angry, Danno?”
Steve throws the bottle, which explodes at the zombies’ feet, fire lapping up their frayed clothes.
“I have blood on my tie!”
Never mind the blood all over the rest of him, Danny is still looking dejectedly at his tie, the knot loose and crooked. Steve can’t help himself, he reaches out and puts the tie back in order, his fingers sticking with blood as he rights the knot. Danny lets out a shaky breath as he looks down at Steve’s fingers over his chest. His hair is matted with blood and gunk, blond streaked with red and black.
“We’ll get the best dry cleaner in the island to get this blood out of it when this is over, Danny.”
For once he’s talking softly, his fingers trailing down the tie, and Danny nods, looking lost for all of three seconds, before he steps away, just enough to swing at a zombie coming to their side, the strength of the blow cutting the monster in half in the middle, guts spilling out and tangling around the golf club. Danny lets out a curse, shaking them off with a disgusted look on his face, and Steve feels like killing after this zombie has decided to break the Moment he and Danny were having.
They walk past the burning zombies and Steve wishes he had more alcohol to make molotovs with. It’s proven useful but he doesn’t have any other, and he’s not quite willing to walk into one of the stores to get some more alcohol. So many have been looted already, windows smashed, and yet, Steve doesn’t want to make it worse. They’re not so far away from the Illikai anymore, they can do this with what they’ve got.
“Why did you stop? Come on, Steve, we can’t stop now.” Danny sounds a little scared, but mostly tired, a breathless fluctuation to his voice that tells Steve they need to move faster, or Danny’s going to give up - not necessarily because of physical exhaustion.
“Was just thinking of molotovs cocktails. Nevermind, Danny. How’s the golf club holding up? Is it good?”
“It’s good. It’s ridiculously primitive for a weapon, but it’s good. It’s doing the job. I wish I had a shotgun.”
“A shotgun wouldn’t kill them.”
“Wanna bet? I wouldn’t shoot them in the knees, Steve, I would shoot them in the face!” The words are vicious because Danny says them as he drives his golf club through a zombie’s skull, pulling it out, along with half a brain, with a few sharp tugs. Steve grimaces at how wonderfully obscene it is, the whole of it; they’ve left a trail of corpses behind them, bloody footprints all over a deserted Ala Moana Boulevard, like they’re the only two remaining living souls in the whole city. It’d be almost romantic, if it wasn’t so fucked up.
“Hey, Danny?”
“Yeah?”
Steve throws the timing belt right in a zombie’s face, cutting it in two efficiently. The sides of the creature’s head fall each to one side, exposing his insides as he falls to his knees. grey matter dripping to the ground.
“It’s like you’re taking pleasure in killing them as messily as possible. We are not in a video game, Steve, you are not getting bonus points for style. What were you going to ask me?”
“When this is all over, we should go out.”
“What, go out for beers and steak?”
“Yeah, but like, on a date.” Steve feels himself reddening like a fucking blushing virgin, and he’s not that ridiculous, okay, he’s had sex before, what the hell is wrong with him? It’s not like it’s not obvious to the two of them that they’re heading this way anyway. They’ve been dancing around the issue for ages now, using every chance they get to touch and tease each other.
And right now, they’re so close to dying, the two of them, fighting zombies with car parts and sports equipment, it feels stupid not to risk it.
“Steve, how long have we known each other now?”
“Um, about two and a half years.”
“Right. And for all this time, you choose now to ask me out? Not that I would say yes, it’s not even my point right now, I just can’t believe you’d wait for us to be in the middle of the freaking end of humanity to ask me out on a date!”
Steve feels dread fill him, a frown settling itself on his face as his timing belt gets stuck in a zombie’s skull, dents digging hard in the bone, and he has to leave it behind.
“You wouldn’t say yes?”
“Of course I’d say yes, but what did I say? Not the point, McGarrett! The point is, we have no idea if this will ever be over, it might be over when we get eaten by zombies! And then, what good will it do that I said yes, huh? No good, that’s what. No good at all. Because we’ll be dead. Or undead, I don’t know which one’s worst.”
Steve grins, reaching into his backpack for his next weapon - he’s collected everything and anything on his way, but, okay, he did not expect what he finds under his fingers. He must have left it in the bottom of his bag before all of this started.
“Well, if we’re both zombies, we can eat each other. It could be considered amorous, no?”
Danny closes his eyes for a second, looking split between wanting to laugh hysterically and run for the hills, his lips a thin white line, trembling at the corners. The moment it takes him to reach his inner peace, Steve uses to throw the bar of soap he found in the bottom of his bag at an upcoming zombie, making it stumble. He quickly douses the washcloth he found wrapped around the soap with the mouthwash that made up his quick fix cleaning kit, and sets it on fire, throwing it at the zombie, who lets out a long cry of agony as its face melts in the heat.
“Did you just kill a zombie with a bar of soap and a washcloth?”
“And mouthwash.”
“I didn’t know mouthwash was flammable.”
“It was a gamble, but mouthwash usually contains alcohol, so I thought I’d risk it.”
“I don’t whether to be impressed or really terrified. Oh, look, a spade, perfect, my club is starting to get lopsided.”
Steve gives it a look, and indeed, the clubhead and handle are fine, but the long, fine body is curved from the multitude of impacts against zombies, distorted into a unwieldy shape. Danny drops it and grabs the spade lying at the front of a gardening store, and rolls it between his hands a few times.
“Heavy, but it’ll do.”
Steve listens to Danny protest when he shows him his next weapon. He’s been expecting it.
“Can’t you find something with a handle and that can get them from afar? Like, I don’t know, a katana or maybe a Magnum? Do you really think it’s necessary for you to use pens and soap and, now, knuckledusters? We are not fighting a street gang - albeit I’ll give you it’s possible some of these zombies were part of one before.”
“Albeit?”
“What? It’s a word!”
“A word nobody uses. And I didn’t have time to think about it, okay, I just grabbed what I could, I’m sorry if it’s not up to your standards!”
“Please, seriously, grab something else, you’re going to break your hands attacking them with just that, or they’ll bite you, and then you’ll never buy me a steak.”
Steve sighs, reaching into his backpack again, his fingers closing around something Danny would approve of. He brandishes the blow torch with a grin, thanking the heavens his father liked baking enough to get himself one of these.
“That is what I’m talking about!”
Danny grins back, and Steve feels his insides flutter stupidly, like they’re on that date they’ve talked about and not about to face five zombies coming towards them. They brace themselves for it, Danny striking first, beheading one with a swift move, the sharp edge of the spade going through the zombie’s neck smoothly, the head going flying, a sickening splattering sound resonating around them when it hits the ground, spitting blood as it bounces around.
They don’t watch the show for long, the rest of the pack advancing on them. Steve burns two and Danny sends the other two knocking into each other, the zombies ferociously attacking each other, ripping rotten flesh off of each other’s faces. Danny makes a face as he jogs around them, slipping on a patch of black guts and gripping Steve’s arm to keep steady.
“These two are trying to eat each other, and it’s not amorous, babe. So we need to get to the Illikai alive, okay? I know I pissed off some karma god or something a while ago, maybe because of that graffiti-and-pot phase, I’m sorry really, I was a teenager,” Danny yells at the sky, before starting to walk again, putting distance between them and the zombies at their back. “But even though, I think I deserve it, Steve. I’ve been working my ass off putting people in jail, and I’ve suffered you for a while now, and I’m playing nice with my ex-wife, and I’m being as good a dad as I can be. So really, I deserve to stay alive long enough to watch you pay for a meal for me.”
“I agree.”
“I’m glad.”
Steve smiles at Danny, and Danny ends up chuckling after a moment. The two of them looking worse for fear, covered in blood, walking down Ala Moana with their makeshift weapons, shoulders hunched, muscles aching, faces grim and weary. Somehow, Steve thinks Danny looks proud, too, strong and fierce, fighting his way to his little girl, if it’s the last thing he does.
“Okay, come on, we don’t have much further to go. The Illikai’s just there.”
They can see it better now, closer, tall and the promise of safety and reuniting Danny with Grace. Steve suddenly wants to run, but he can see the zombies on their way and he’s not about to let them go by.
Steve alternates between using the blow torch to boil zombie’s brains and using his close combat skills, watching Danny swing the spade this way and that, sometimes using the edge to behead, sometimes using the flat to crush. At one point, he drives the pointy end of the spade into a fallen zombie’s neck with a cry of triumph, and Steve smirks.
“No bonus points for style, you say? Shame, that move is a good ten.”
“This competition would be skewed, to be fair.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d win with my clothes alone. You and I, we don’t play in the same sandpit when it comes to style. I, for one, know what the word means.”
“You wear ties in Hawai’i and I’m the one with bad clothes?”
“You wear shirts that come in packs of three.”
“You wear underwear that comes in packs of three.”
“Well, at least my underwear is concealed by nice fitting pants. Your shirts are in plain view, and your underwear, that also comes in packs of three when it’s not swimming trunks, by the way, is concealed by cargo pants.”
“They’re comfortable, and the pockets can come in handy. I always wonder if you’re going to rip your pants when we’re chasing after a suspect.”
“We shouldn’t have to chase after suspects so much! And I’m sure you can’t wait for the day my pants do rip, you pervert.”
“Well, I do admit they show a very nice side of you.”
Steve bends back to give Danny’s backside a meaningful look, earning himself a swipe and a murderous glare. Then he yelps. “Steve!”
The spade’s edge burrows itself in a zombie’s head that came leaping from the inside of a car they’re walking past while Steve was distracted by Danny’s ass, and Steve spins, ducking under the spade and punching the zombie with his hand still sporting the knuckledusters, feeling flesh and bone give in under the blow, and Steve finds himself having to shake the zombie’s face off his hand.
“Fucking zombies.”
“Well, if you were a little more focused on the task at hand,” Danny says, pulling his spade from the now unmoving zombie and striding forward again. “Instead of being focused on my ass, maybe this wouldn’t happen.”
“Hey, I’m sure if we do a head count I killed more than you.”
“Oh, my God, are we in fourth grade now? Are we actually ten and making this a competition?”
“No. Hey, you started it!”
Danny doesn’t answer, just stomps forward with this obviously irritated look on his face, and Steve can only follow, his eyes darting everywhere for more zombies, but it’s surprisingly calm, scarily calm. The lack of birds chirping, cars honking and people talking makes the city eerie, like it’s ready to fall in on itself, giving itself up to the apocalypse that hit it. Steve rolls his shoulders and squares himself up, not willing to let Honolulu go down without a fight.
“Once we get to the Illikai, I’ll go out again with a group of soldiers. They must have scientists and people working on this, maybe they have a cure, or have determined a source, and with some heavy weaponry, we can go out.”
“No.”
“What?”
Danny stops, turns to look at Steve, his face looking even angrier with the blood drying in streaks and splatters over his skin.
“I said, no.”
“You don’t get to tell me no, Danny.”
“See, this is where you’re wrong. I can and I am. We’ve been fucking lucky, Steve, okay? We have, I acknowledge that and I am glad, I am seriously glad that we are both still alive right now, and when we get to safety and I get a shower and a hug from my daughter, I’m going to call everyone I know and tell them I love them, because I am thankful to be alive. We are stupidly, incredibly lucky, and I am saying no to you going out again because your luck will run out, and then you’ll get killed before I get my date, before we both get laid, and for that reason alone I am telling you, Steve, no.”
“You mean you’ll put out on the first date?”
“Why do you always focus on the most random parts of what I’m telling you?” Danny sighs. “Does that mean you won’t go back out?”
Steve looks around them, the empty street, and he can see the shadows of soldiers now, as they get closer and closer to the Illikai. Soon they’ll be spotted and surrounded, sent for examination to make sure they weren’t contaminated. The military has all sorts of procedures for these kind of situations, but Steve’s not going to get into this with Danny, he might give his partner an actual, not-a-joke aneurism.
“Okay, I won’t go back out. Not just yet, anyway, because I’d like to get laid.”
“There we go! Baby steps, Steve. I’m willing to try and convince you again not to go out later, as long as you allow yourself to rest for a while. Fuck, I am tired.”
They’re definitely in a clear zone, now, because they haven’t seen the back of a zombie for a good five minutes and that hasn’t happened since this whole thing started. Steve looks down at his blow torch a little forlornly. It’s a really good weapon, he wishes he’d gotten it out earlier. Instead, he’d used soap.
“Okay. Later. So when are we going on our date?”
“Can we order room service, you think? I don’t know if the staff still works. I guess not.”
“We could raid the kitchens, I’m sure they have some steaks.”
“This place will never hold, you realize. What happens when the kitchens are empty?”
“There’s a shopping center not far. Why are you worrying about that stuff? You’re too tired to worry about that stuff.”
“I worry, Steve, it’s what I do. Let me worry, will you?”
Soldiers are coming their way, now, jogging up to them, clad in military khakis and blacks, and Danny drops the spade, swaying and then sagging with relief as he clings to Steve, his grip slippery with blood.
“We did it. We’re alive. I get to see Grace.”
Steve chuckles, feeling some sort of hysterical laugh bubbling up his throat as he runs his hand through Danny’s hair, uncaring that they’re surrounded by soldiers, uncaring that his hand is filthy with grime and soot and blood. He can barely see the blond in Danny’s hair anymore.
“And we get to go on a date.”
Danny bursts out laughing, pulling away from Steve as soldiers ask them to state their name, if they’re okay, step this way please, we have to check you out, do not put up a fight or we’ll shoot you down, no hesitation. Danny gives Steve a lasting look as he lets soldiers lead him to a chemical shower.
“Holding you to that one, McGarrett!”
THE END
Now, there's more art! Click on the images to see them bigger. I urge you to, because, just, BRILLIANT, the details and the work that has been put into this, it deserves all your attention.