Fic: Into The Enemy's Country
Title: Into The Enemy's Country
Author: verasteine
Summary: on the bad days, Steve turns away from him, and on the good days, Danny still feels like his heart is being trampled on.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Length: ~6,392 words
Spoilers: none specific
Disclaimer: characters belong to CBS, no infringement intended. The quote inspiring the title belongs to Agatha Christie.
Prompt: 51. (Steve, optional Steve/Danny) How has Don't Ask Don't Tell (DADT) affected Steve? It could be in the past - at the Naval Academy or his time in the SEALs - or in the present - how DADT affects his ability to be in a relationship with Danny, or if established relationship, his behavior in the relationship.
A/N: This story went through a record seven drafts before it came full circle to my original idea for it. My gratitude to kilawater, smirnoffmule, and citrinesunset, who in various stages of this project allowed me to flail at them about it, and to eumelia, who held my hand via email and chat throughout the writing process and provided that critical cheerleading I needed to finish this, in the week she herself was finishing her degree (above and beyond, bb!) Lastly, I'm indebted to perspi, for the fabulous beta job, and alba17, for providing the prompt.
--
"My eyes can't keep secrets like his, but they can carry the war into the enemy's country."
--
There's a mug of coffee on the nightstand, steam still gently drifting over the top, visible in the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Danny manages to struggle awake enough to lift his head from the pillow, scoot up a little, and reach for it as he smoothes his hair down.
The coffee is the only sign that someone was in bed with him last night, the only sign of any other presence in the silent house, and Danny takes a sip, gauging from the temperature how long ago Steve left.
It's still hot, so he has some time to enjoy it and let the caffeine do its job, before Steve will drip his way back into the house and force Danny out of bed.
It's been three months since they started this thing, since Danny let a combination of sheer exhaustion and utter frustration get the better of him, and told Steve to either fuck him or stop sending him mixed signals.
For a moment, he had worried that Steve would never look him in the eye again, and then Steve pushed him against a wall and kissed him, and the rest was history.
The sound of the door opening brings him back to the present, then there are footsteps on the stairs, and Steve appears in the doorway. "Hey."
"Hey," Danny replies, smiling over the rim of his mug. Steve looks at him, assessing, that quiet, collected gaze that is one of Steve's rare, truly unreadable expressions. Danny keeps smiling into the face of it, and Steve looks away.
"I'm going to hit the shower."
"Sure." Danny takes another sip of his coffee, enjoys the sight of Steve, damp and tanned, as he moves across the room in only his board shorts. His cock stirs and Danny palms it, content not to do more than that, and his eyes lock with Steve's.
Steve stands frozen by the closet, watching Danny and swallowing hard. He drops the t-shirt he's holding to the floor, and comes to the bed. "Shit, Danny."
"Hmm?" Danny looks up at him, all six feet of him, until he gets to the beautiful frustration that mars Steve's face. "Come here, babe."
Steve reaches down, tugs the covers out of the way, and straddles him, wet board shorts making Danny wince. Steve leans in and kisses down Danny's chest, and Danny slides a hand into the wet strands of his hair, giving himself up to the feel of Steve's warm mouth on his skin.
Steve hums softly as he peels off Danny's boxers, and Danny can't help shuddering at the first touch of Steve's mouth to his hard cock. He tries to say Steve's name, needs two tries to make his vocal chords work. "Babe..."
Steve makes an unintelligible noise and doesn't break his rhythm, doesn't even look up, and Danny curls a loose hand over the back of Steve's head, and lets Steve carry him over.
He's catching his breath, and when he opens his eyes, it's to see Steve take himself in hand and finish off, quickly and efficiently, robbing Danny of the chance. He flaps a frustrated hand at Steve, who raises both eyebrows at him. "What?"
"You--" Danny says, and searches for words. "You're a goof," he says finally, and Steve grins.
"I'm going to hit the shower."
"You mentioned that," Danny replies thoughtlessly, and watches as Steve gets up and retrieves the t-shirt he dropped by the closet. He gathers additional clothes and wanders from the room, and Danny feels a stab of longing in his chest, just under his ribs, and curls onto his side, burying his face in the pillow.
--
Of all the things Danny expected when he started sleeping with Steve, the goofy grins are the most surprising. He's always loved that expression on Steve's face, partly because it's so rare, but the more he is around Steve in their off hours, the more he catches sight of it, and it's making his insides do crazy things.
Steve is humming along to what is a truly atrocious pop song on the radio, slicing vegetables for dinner, and Danny is half-heartedly making an effort at stir frying potatoes while stealing glances.
Steve looks happy, uncomplicatedly happy, and it makes Danny's heart swell.
"What?"
Danny shrugs with the spatula still in his hand. "Nothing, babe."
Steve frowns. "Then quit looking at me."
"What, I can't look now?"
Steve ducks his head, and Danny stifles the sudden impulse to go over there and force him to face up. "Whatever."
"You are so bad at this," Danny replies.
"Oh yeah?" Steve comes over, plate of vegetables in his hand. "Look at you, you're nearly burning the food. Move over."
Danny lets himself be shouldered out of the way, puts a hand on Steve's back and feels him lean into it without thinking, and watches as Steve cooks.
"I swear, I don't know how you survived all these years."
"Take out," Danny says blissfully, "is a very good way to avoid cooking. You pay other people to cook your food for you, it's called a service, it's--"
"That's why you live in that dump, because you spent all your money on--"
"Shut up," Danny shoots back, "I do not live in a dump, what is it with you and my place, huh, you like it that little, what's it ever done to you?"
Steve raises an eyebrow. "You're never there, Danny, don't tell me you're in love with the place."
Danny lets Steve goad him, feels something warm and fuzzy spread through his chest at the sparkle in Steve's eyes. "Just because I prefer present company doesn't mean I hate it; it's a perfectly acceptable place to live."
"It's a dump," Steve replies, because he has to have the last word in everything.
Danny pokes him in the side, and Steve moves out of the way, slaps at Danny's hand.
"What are you, twelve years old?"
Danny sticks his tongue out, and Steve rolls his eyes.
"Twelve," he says, smile wide and proud like he invented the concept.
Danny grins.
--
When Danny wakes, it's out of a deep sleep and to an empty bed. For a confused moment he thinks it's morning and doesn't understand why the room is dark, then his fuzzy mind realises it's still night.
He rolls over and checks the clock. Two a.m., not a time he should wake up alone.
He lies in silence for a few seconds, doing inventory of the sounds he can hear, the soft rustling of the waves, the wind blowing faintly outside, but no noise in the house.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, carefully struggles into a standing position, waits for the sleep fog to clear from his head before he moves across the room on touch and what is increasingly becoming sense memory.
There's a light on in the study, shining faintly across the stairs as he makes his way down, and he lets it draw him in like a moth, carrying him through the living room and to the back of the house.
Steve is leaning against the window, staring out at the impenetrable dark, still clad in the boxers and t-shirt he went to sleep in. He glances over his shoulder at Danny.
"Couldn't sleep?" Danny clears his throat at the sound of his own rough voice. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Steve stares back outside again, then turns to face him. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Hey, you didn't." Danny goes over and leans against the desk, facing him. "Just got a little lonely up there."
Steve's mouth twitches into something that isn't quite a smile, and Danny's heart clenches. "I couldn't sleep," Steve says needlessly.
"Okay." Danny stares at his feet, at his toes on the carpet, before looking back up. "Something interesting to see out there?"
More interesting than in here, he thinks, not lost to the fact that it's Jack McGarrett's desk he's leaning against. Steve shrugs.
"Hey." Danny reaches out and runs a hand over Steve's arm, sliding it down until he can tangle his fingers with Steve's, and squeezes softly. "I'm okay with leaving you here if you want me to. I'm also okay with staying."
Steve looks down at their joined hands. "I..." he begins, and his voice falters.
Danny lifts Steve's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "What's up, babe?"
Steve looks away, out at the ocean they can only hear, not see. "I... It's nothing."
"Yeah?" Danny wonders what he sees out there, and if he'd ask, if Steve would tell him. "You want to come back upstairs?"
Steve's voice is rough when he replies, and he doesn't look at Danny. "I'll be up in a minute."
Danny knows a request for solitude when he hears one. He presses one last kiss to Steve's palm and drops his hand. "Okay, babe. Contemplate away."
Steve looks over his shoulder at that, and the storm of emotion in his eyes makes Danny's breath catch a little. Steve's mouth twitches into a smile, and Danny returns it before pushing off and heading back up the stairs.
--
A week later, and it's one of those days when they spend more hours at work than they do at home. By the time Steve unlocks the front door, it's well past eleven and they're both exhausted. Danny stumbles up the stairs without thought, letting routine carry him into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
When he's rinsing his mouth, he senses movement in the corner of his eye and catches Steve in the doorway, looking at him with a face Danny can't place, something that's trapped between terror and happiness.
He straightens carefully, holding Steve's gaze. Steve tears his eyes away and steps past him, and Danny watches the stilted, tired way he moves, Steve's natural grace sacrificed to the fatigue wearing him down. When Steve stops at the sink, Danny puts a hand on his hip, leans in to kiss the back of Steve's neck, and meets his eyes in the mirror. "We did good today."
"Yeah." Steve leans back a little, and Danny nuzzles at his hair.
He pulls back reluctantly, heading to the bedroom. He can feel exhaustion pull at his own muscles when he undresses and is glad to finally slide between the sheets.
When Steve comes in and flicks off the overhead light, Danny automatically reaches over to switch the light on the nightstand on, giving Steve light to manoeuvre by, and Danny a chance to watch him do it.
Steve is untying his shoes, kicking off his trousers, and strips off his t-shirt. Danny clears his throat when he sees Steve reach for the soft shirt he always sleeps in. "Come here."
Steve blinks at him, caught mid-motion.
Danny jerks his head. "Come on."
"Okay." He drops the shirt and comes over, slides in between the sheets and turns onto his side, looking at Danny in the faint light. "What do you--"
Danny cuts him off by pulling him in for a kiss, tasting peppermint and feeling Steve shift closer. Steve's arm comes up around him, fingers sliding into Danny's hair, and he smiles into the kiss. Steve pulls back for a moment, frowning at him, before he kisses Danny's lower lip until Danny teases him with his tongue.
It's sloppy, uncoordinated, but Danny doesn't care; he lets Steve push him back into the mattress and pin him with one leg. "Neanderthal," he says affectionately when they come apart, and Steve frowns again.
Danny can feel him half-hard against him, lifts his hips to watch Steve's eyes widen, pulls him back in for another kiss. Steve wanders away, licking at a spot on Danny's jaw. Danny slides a hand up his chest, enjoys the feeling of skin and muscle under his touch, letting it feed his desire.
"Danny..."
"Hmm?" He strokes fingers through Steve's hair, the slow burn making him float between exhaustion and the pleasant warmth of arousal.
"Danny, fuck." Steve is hardening against his skin and he pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down at Danny's chest, and Danny reaches out to pull him back in, but Steve resists. "Danny," he says again.
"I'm here, hey."
Steve reaches between them, curls a hand around Danny's cock, and Danny squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling of Steve's callused fingers. Steve knows how to touch him, they've done this often enough that Danny lost count, and Steve gets him to the brink in fast, efficient moves.
Danny finds the presence of mind to return the favour, to wrap his fingers around Steve and slide his hand up and down. Steve hisses at his touch, the arm keeping him up trembling, and Danny wants him closer. "Hey, slow down," he says softly, using his free hand to touch inked skin, feeling muscles shiver under his touch. He slides his fingers up over Steve's shoulder, cups the back of his head and makes Steve face him. "Hey. Steve."
His eyes are wide and shuttered; in the sparse light Danny can see the same expression he caught on Steve's face in the bathroom, the dark fear that's hiding behind his gaze. He's torn between that look and the feelings Steve's hand are wrenching from him, and his orgasm takes him unawares; he goes over before he has a chance to say something.
His own hand stills as he floats for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and Steve makes an impatient noise at him, fingers curling around Danny's. "Okay," Danny manages, starts moving his hand, watches as Steve closes his eyes and bites his lip, and he's beautiful, even now, even like this.
When he comes, it's with a quiet grunt, his forehead pressed into Danny's chest, and Danny feels like gathering him up and pushing him away, like being near and like not wanting to see him at all.
Steve solves the dilemma for him by rolling away, reaching for tissues on the night stand and handing a handful off to Danny while cleaning himself up. Danny wipes at his skin, ignores everything else, even the way Steve turns onto his side, away from him.
--
On the days Steve wakes with the shadows already in his eyes, there is no coffee on the nightstand. Danny watches him go, alerted by some sixth sense to Steve leaving the bed, and he only needs to catch Steve's gaze to know it's not a good day.
He showers and shaves while Steve is out frolicking in the sea, and draws up a battle plan as he waits for the coffee to finish.
Steve stands dripping in the doorway to the kitchen, towel still half over his head, board shorts clinging to his hip bones, and Danny's mouth goes dry and the plans leach from his head.
He swallows drily. "Morning."
"Hey." Steve moves past him, reaching for a mug. Danny stops him with a hand over his.
"Let me."
Steve frowns. "Okay."
Danny lines up two mugs, fills them both with coffee, adds sugar to his own and cream to Steve's, and hands it over.
"Thanks."
"Yeah." Danny sips his coffee, enjoys the feeling of the caffeine hitting his system. He reaches out and uses a tip of the towel to wipe away a drop of water on Steve's forehead, and Steve ducks his head. "Go get dressed before you catch your death."
"Yes, dad."
"And don't call me that."
Steve grins, and Danny can't help leaning in and brushing his mouth against Steve's, tasting coffee and salt water. The combination makes him wince, but Steve is smiling and it's a good sight.
--
Steve comes down after he showered and dressed, and heads straight for the garage. Danny listens to the sounds of an engine turning over and failing to catch. He channel surfs and watches a baseball game, until the increasing pitch of tools slamming into surfaces forces him out to the garage.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
Steve wipes a hand over his forehead. Today might be a relatively cool day, but Hawaii's weather is still insane and the garage is sweltering. "Maybe you should give it a rest," Danny suggests.
Steve glares, the force of his eyes making Danny lock his knees in place. "I want to get it to run today."
"Yeah, well," Danny makes an empty gesture, "maybe it doesn't want to run today, you ever think about that, Steven?"
"It doesn't want anything, Danny, it's an inanimate object."
Danny shrugs. "You're not, and you look like you could use a break."
"In a minute."
Steve ducks back under the hood, and Danny can't help admiring the way his cargo pants hug his ass. He pulls up a seat and settles in to admire it properly, and Steve surfaces again.
"You just gonna sit there, Danno?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna sit here. I'm gonna sit here till you take a break."
"What, you're my mother now?"
Danny rolls his eyes. "Just take a break, Steve. Come on."
Steve straightens himself up to his full height. "Don't tell me what to do, Danny."
Danny sighs. "This is what you'll pick a fight over?"
"Who says anything about picking a fight?"
Danny gestures between them. "This isn't a fight? Okay, it's an argument, you're starting an argument over this. Fine."
"Semantics," Steve says dismissively.
"Yeah, you know big words, whatever. You gonna leave that car alone and come inside for some food, hmm?"
"I said, in a minute. Leave me alone, Danny."
"Steve..." Danny slides off the seat. "Look, just leave this, yeah? You can get back to it later, what's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? I am trying to get this thing fixed, I don't want you to get in the way every five minutes, okay?"
Danny throws up his hands. "I have left you alone out here all morning! Excuse me for wanting to get you away from your dad's ghost for a few seconds so maybe you'll stop looking like someone ran over your puppy!"
In the deadly silence that follows, Danny knows he's fucked up, can see it in the horrifying expression Steve tries to hide as soon as it surfaces. Anger takes its place. "What did you just say?"
"Steve--"
Steve holds up a hand. "No. Just no. I don't want to hear it." He pushes past Danny and out of the garage, and Danny hears the sound of the Silverado starting up, the tires crunching on the gravel, and he kicks the workbench. "Fuck."
--
When Steve reappears, he's wary, staying by the door and holding his car keys in his hand as if he's thinking about walking out again any minute. Danny knows that look too well on him, hates it, hates himself for putting it there.
"Steve."
"Yeah."
"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."
Steve gives him a curt nod. "Not everything is about my dad, Danny."
"I know." Danny sighs, stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from gesturing. "I know, okay, I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
"It's just--" Danny cuts himself off, can't decide whether to speak or stay silent, finally pushes himself. "When you get like that, I can't just watch, you know?"
"Danny, I'm not--" Steve breaks off, scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'm not going crazy."
"I know you're not. Steve, I know." He goes over, fingers itching for touch, but Steve is still giving him that shuttered, distrustful look, and Danny holds back. "Did you eat?"
Steve frowns. "No."
Danny heads off to the kitchen, collects the makings of a sandwich while Steve leans against the doorway.
"Danny, I don't want--"
He glances over his shoulder. "What?" Steve shrugs helplessly, finally drops the car keys on the kitchen counter. Danny smiles and turns to him. "Come here, babe."
Steve comes into his arms without hesitation, and Danny allows himself a deep breath. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Apology accepted." Steve ducks his head as they come apart. Danny can't stop himself, he reaches out and tips Steve's chin up, kisses him softly.
--
Contrary to what Steve seems to think, subtle he is not. After dinner, Danny catches him shifting on his end of the couch, a nervous energy radiating from him that keeps the atmosphere in the room tense, in spite of the way they are sagged out on the couch with beers in their hand.
"Hey."
Steve glances at him. "What?"
Danny raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."
"I want to be here," Steve replies defensively. "What makes you say that?"
Danny keeps looking at him incredulously, and gestures at Steve's general presence. "The way the air vibrates around you, babe. You seriously think I wouldn't notice?"
Steve ducks his head. "I'm a little antsy."
"So take a lap around the block. I don't mind." Somehow, he knows, this ties back to what happened this afternoon, but trying to drag anything out of Steve, even on his better days, is precise work and Danny is too tired to try today.
Some days, it feels like he does all the hard work in their relationship. He shakes the thought off.
"Okay," Steve says, and stands, glancing at the tv and then at Danny. "I'll, uh, I'll be back later."
Sometimes he also wins the awkward of the year award, and it is endearing. Danny smiles up at him. "Take your time."
Steve nods, gives him one last searching look that makes Danny wonder, makes him want to ask what's behind those eyes, and he bites his lip to keep from blurting it out.
He hears Steve open the door, but it closes again too quickly, and Danny twists on the couch to watch Steve stand there, hand still on the knob, looking at him.
"This," Danny says, gesturing, "is not you taking a lap around the block. What's up? You wanna talk about it?"
Steve stalks back, kneels up on the couch next to Danny and says, "No," before looming over Danny and kissing him.
Kissing Steve is nice, and Danny likes doing it; this is how this whole show began. He kisses back without thought, can feel Steve's nervous energy through the onslaught, the fireball that is Steve McGarrett, and he tries to slow it down. "Hey," he says, but his words are lost in Steve's mouth, swallowed up.
Steve makes a noise, soft and heavy, shifts closer, forcing Danny back into the cushions. It's giving him a crick in his neck, but he'll take that if Steve keeps kissing him. He starts at the feeling of Steve's hand on his belt, sliding lower, Steve's palm pressing against Danny's barely hard dick.
He finds himself pulling away from the contact, breaking away from Steve. "Hey, come on, slow down, hmm?"
Steve ducks his head, kisses Danny's neck, pushing his t-shirt out of the way. Danny can see where this is going, goes from halfway interested to dispirited at it, and puts a hand to Steve's chest, pushing him away.
"No."
Steve frowns, cocks his head as if trying to puzzle Danny out. "What?"
"No." Danny sighs. "I'm not in the mood, babe."
He can see the utter confusion the moment it hits Steve, realises with abject sadness that he can't name any of the other emotions that are playing across Steve's expression, doesn't know him well enough. It makes him feel like they're miles apart, makes him question what they're doing even as he knows he wants to be here very, very much.
Steve sits back. "Uh, okay." He runs his hand through his hair. "I'll just..." He makes a vague gesture, and Danny nods.
Steve gets up off the sofa and goes out the door.
Danny leans his head against the back of the couch and blinks away tears.
--
They move around each other gingerly the next morning, and Danny can't help watching Steve from the corners of his eyes. He knows this, knows how Steve is, all that careful hurt wrapped up in six feet of confused emotions, but he feels like if he says something, he'll only make it worse.
Steve makes the decision for him. "Look, Danny, if you don't want to be with me, just say it."
They're in the kitchen and Danny's glad he's just had his first sip of coffee, because while he should have seen this coming, it still hits him hard. "No," he says, leaning against the refrigerator, "that's not it. At least..." He gestures towards Steve. "Unless you want to quit."
Steve shakes his head and swallows hard.. "No."
"Okay." Danny blows out a breath. "Good. We have that out of the way."
Steve looks at him. "I don't understand what's going on, Danny. If you want to be here, then why..."
Danny narrows his eyes. "It was one time, babe, not a sign that I find you repulsive, jesus. Can a guy just not be into it sometimes, huh?"
Steve ducks his head, runs a hand over his mouth. "Yeah, okay, I guess."
"You guess?" Danny raises both eyebrows at him and shakes his head, smiling. "You are so clueless, I swear."
--
The problem of Steve, Danny decides, is that he's just too damn attractive for his own good. Danny has eyes, and a functioning dick, and the other night notwithstanding, he usually likes sex as much as the next guy.
Steve is standing on the lanai, beer in his hand, tattoos peeking out from under shirt sleeves, and Danny can't stop looking. Steve doesn't know he's here, hasn't caught on yet that he's being watched, and it feels almost illicit. The t-shirt is tight enough that Danny can see the muscles in his back work as he lifts his arm to take a drink from the beer bottle, and Danny's memory can provide an image of what Steve looks like without his clothes on.
He's half hard in his slacks and wants to act on it, wants to take Steve upstairs and to the bedroom, unwrap him and make him fall apart. He moves without thinking about it, and it alerts Steve to his presence, makes him turn with a frown. He spots Danny and his expression changes, something fond and private and a little bit scared, and Danny hates that.
"Hey," he says, and reaches out, cups the back of Steve's head and kisses him fondly.
"Danny," Steve says as they come apart, and then he moves in, kisses Danny open-mouthed and intent, walking him back until Danny hits the wall.
The sun is setting in the cove and the rays frame Steve's face, and Danny loves him, loves him so much his heart is bursting with it. He pulls him in, enjoys the simple closeness, the way Steve moves up against him, like he's ensuring nothing can come between them. "Let's make it an early night," Danny suggests, and Steve grins.
"Okay," he says, kissing Danny's jaw.
"The comfort of a bed," Danny muses, "taking our time--"
He feels Steve's hands on his belt, at his shirt. "Come on," Steve says, voice low, "we can do that later."
He's got urgent fingers in Danny's waistband, impatient fingers tugging on Danny's tie, and Danny snaps. He shoves him away with one hand on Steve's chest, doesn't miss the flash of irritation on Steve's face. "What's the matter with you, huh?"
"What?" Irritation mixes with confusion, turns to anger. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This, Steven." Danny gestures between them. "This constant I-have-to-get-us-off-now shit that you pull. Whatever happened to sharing? Whatever happened to lazy, huh? What kind of a Neanderthal are you?"
"I'm not--" Steve breaks off. "What the fuck?"
Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Sometimes, I'd like to take my time, okay? I'd like to actually get you in a bed and spend time, like actual time on doing things that don't immediately get us off. You, you just seem to think this is a race, like if we don't get there in five minutes it doesn't count." Steve looks so utterly baffled Danny can't decide to laugh or cry. Then something occurs to him. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"
"Of course I do."
He knows Steve is lying, well, maybe not lying outright but not really there with him. "Who the hell taught you this shit?"
"No one taught me how to have sex, Danny."
Danny flaps a hand at him. "Not what I'm talking about. This," he gestures between them, "relationships, Steven, how to be with other people."
Steve's face slides from confused briefly into an expression Danny can only call wrecked, and Danny's heart misses a beat. He clenches his jaw to keep from speaking, lets his mind race through what he knows of Steve, and then freezes in place.
Steve is shaking his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and he says, "Of course I know how to have a relationship, Danny, I know you like pretending that I'm not actually human but I have done this before."
He sounds like he's babbling and Danny, Danny is trying to think around the clenching of his heart. "Who with?" he says slowly.
"What?"
"Who with?" Danny repeats. "Who did you have relationships with, Steve?"
Steve shrugs. "Couple of people."
He's deliberately vague, making Danny work for it, but Danny is ahead of him now, or at least thinks he is, and understands why Steve doesn't want to talk. "I know about Catherine," he says, trying a gentle smile to see if it'll soften Steve up, "and I'm presuming there were other guys because I didn't teach you some of the things you do."
"Yeah," Steve says, "there were other guys."
"Where? In port? On ships?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it matters. I read the papers, babe, I just never-- I never thought about it and you, you know?"
"It's not a big deal. We just ignored it."
Danny shakes his head. "You just ignored it? No, see, now I know you're lying, because you and the Navy, you are like this--" he holds up two fingers together "--and you wouldn't risk that."
"Okay, fine." Steve stares at him, eyes boring into Danny's as if he's willing him to understand. "We hid, I hid, that's what you want to hear? That I was in the closet or whatever? Fuck you."
"Steve, hey." He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and Steve pulls away, turns sideways to lean his fists on the railing. "You don't have to hide any more."
Steve looks at him, laughs bitterly, and the sound knifes through Danny's heart. "You read the papers? Then you know it's not off the books yet."
"But soon, right?"
"Yeah, soon." Steve's bitter frown and wide, dark eyes are almost too much to face. "So I won't get fired. You think that makes a difference? You don't understand, Danny."
Danny is beginning to understand, though. He rubs at his eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry, that was stupid of me."
"Yeah." Steve sighs. "So now that you know my dirty secrets, what else?"
"What else?" Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, just this. Listen to me for a moment."
Steve looks at him, eyes narrow and shuttered.
Danny takes a deep breath. "You don't have to hide from me." He holds up a hand when Steve starts to open his mouth. "I mean it. Whatever else, we're not on board a ship any more and out here, it's just the two of us. No one's gonna walk in. I want you to remember that sometimes."
Steve turns away, his back to Danny, and Danny wants badly to make him turn around, but he lets him have his privacy.
"I love you," he says. "I don't care if you say it back, this isn't about that, Steve, I just-- I can't do this if you're not with me, if you don't talk to me, okay, babe? Sometimes, fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this, but when we fuck I want to feel like it means something."
Steve turns at that, eyes red rimmed and wide. "Danny--"
Danny tries a smile. "Okay, so, now you know I'm a ridiculous sap and you can make fun of me. Please, feel free."
Steve laughs, the sound raw. "Danny," he says, "come here."
And Danny goes, wraps his arms around Steve and feels the way Steve's heart beats in his chest. "You're a goof," he says as they come apart, and Steve looks almost insulted. "So what do you say we take this upstairs?"
Steve frowns, and oh, Danny recognises that flash of terror for what it is now.
"Hey, hey."
Steve blinks. "Yeah, okay."
"Yeah? You're not just saying that?"
"Danny, it's just sex, I'm not--"
"Ah, no, no, stop." Danny puts a hand flat on his chest, making Steve stop moving. "If we're going to be in bed together, I want you to be there because you want to be there, because you're hot for me or whatever. Not because I asked, not because I've told you stuff, not because you think it's the only way to be with me. You hear me?"
"Yeah, Danny, I hear you."
In his heart, Danny knows Steve's never thought about this, probably has never even considered how it feels. "Okay. So, I ask again, do you want to take this upstairs?"
"Yes, Danny, I want to have sex with you. Happy now?"
Danny smiles widely. "Very happy. Come on."
He turns into the house and Steve follows, trailing behind him like he's not quite sure what to do with himself, and Danny thinks it's adorable, but refrains from telling him for fear of freaking him out. When they arrive at the bedroom, Danny takes a moment to look around; it's true he spends more time here than at his apartment, and the signs of his presence are everywhere. His clothes mingled with Steve's, his watch on the bedside table, and when he looks at Steve, he knows Steve is seeing it, too.
Steve stays awkwardly by the door, and Danny loosens his tie, unties it and pulls it out of his shirt, and Steve's eyes are suddenly glued to him, and Danny can't help laughing.
"If you want to be the one to take my clothes off, you gotta come over here and do it, babe."
Steve moves quickly, crowds him against the wall, one hand on the back of Danny's head to gentle the impact and yeah, Danny's nerve endings come alive under Steve's touch, Steve's mouth. Steve unbuttons his shirt and slides his hands over Danny's bared skin, makes a noise low in his throat, and Danny can feel his fingers shake against his skin.
"You're a model of restraint, Steven," he says, and takes the sting out of his words by kissing Steve, then tugging his shirt over his head.
Steve's face is a predictable mask of annoyance, and Danny basks in it, grins like an idiot as he starts on Steve's belt. Steve drops his head forward, leans against the closet, kisses behind Danny's ear. He's breathing hard and Danny can feel the way he's holding himself tense. Danny ignores it and focuses on getting them both naked, stripping first Steve's pants and then his own off, and pulls Steve along to the bed. When they slide in between the sheets, Danny has to ask.
"Have you done this before?"
"I've had sex in a bed before, Danny."
"Oy." Danny pokes him with a finger. "Stop being obtuse."
Steve slaps his hand away. "Stop asking me questions then."
"Okay, okay." Danny trails a finger over Steve's chest, watches as Steve looks at it, can't help grinning at the frown on Steve's face. He leans in to follow it up with his mouth, hears Steve's breath catch. Steve's hands are pulling him up and Danny lifts his head, says, "This good for you, babe?" and Steve honest to god blushes, making Danny grin.
"I'll give you good," Steve says, and flips them over until Danny is underneath, and Danny rolls his eyes at him. Steve leans in and kisses him, hands already roaming, and Danny knows where this is going, catches the travelling fingers before they get there.
"Slow down, Steve, hey." He watches as Steve swallows, sees the moment that it hits home, pulls him in and kisses him through it. "I love nothing more than your hands on me," Danny says, "only tonight I have something more in mind, yeah?"
"Yeah." Steve's voice is rough. "Yeah, okay, Danny."
Danny pushes up on one elbow. "So how do you want to do this?"
Steve shrugs. "Same as last time?"
"You like fucking me, huh? Okay, I'm good with that." He feels a thrill of anticipation, can feel it mirrored as Steve shifts against him, feels Steve's hard on against his hip.
"We need--" Steve is twisting away, already reaching for the nightstand, and Danny puts a hand on his flank, making Steve look back. Steve holds his eyes for a second, his mouth twists into a wry smile and he drops his head to the mattress. "Okay, sorry."
Danny smiles, rewards him by sliding his hand down and palming his ass, and Steve groans, the sound going straight to Danny's cock. "Come here," Danny says, and now his voice is rough, too. Steve shifts back, rolls his hips against Danny's until Danny has to close his eyes.
He blinks them open, fights the wave of desire, points a finger at Steve's face. "I know what you're doing and I'm saying you'll pay for it one way or the other."
"Bring it on, Danno."
"I hate you," Danny replies. "I really, really do."
"Oh, yeah," Steve agrees merrily, running a thumb over a hard nipple. "You do."
Danny considers the merits of biting him. "We're going to take our time. If it kills us."
"Okay, Danny." Steve's expression turns serious. "All right. We have all the time in the world." The words sound experimental coming off his tongue.
"Oh, fuck," Danny says, and pulls him down for a kiss.
--
finis.
Author: verasteine
Summary: on the bad days, Steve turns away from him, and on the good days, Danny still feels like his heart is being trampled on.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Length: ~6,392 words
Spoilers: none specific
Disclaimer: characters belong to CBS, no infringement intended. The quote inspiring the title belongs to Agatha Christie.
Prompt: 51. (Steve, optional Steve/Danny) How has Don't Ask Don't Tell (DADT) affected Steve? It could be in the past - at the Naval Academy or his time in the SEALs - or in the present - how DADT affects his ability to be in a relationship with Danny, or if established relationship, his behavior in the relationship.
A/N: This story went through a record seven drafts before it came full circle to my original idea for it. My gratitude to kilawater, smirnoffmule, and citrinesunset, who in various stages of this project allowed me to flail at them about it, and to eumelia, who held my hand via email and chat throughout the writing process and provided that critical cheerleading I needed to finish this, in the week she herself was finishing her degree (above and beyond, bb!) Lastly, I'm indebted to perspi, for the fabulous beta job, and alba17, for providing the prompt.
--
"My eyes can't keep secrets like his, but they can carry the war into the enemy's country."
--
There's a mug of coffee on the nightstand, steam still gently drifting over the top, visible in the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Danny manages to struggle awake enough to lift his head from the pillow, scoot up a little, and reach for it as he smoothes his hair down.
The coffee is the only sign that someone was in bed with him last night, the only sign of any other presence in the silent house, and Danny takes a sip, gauging from the temperature how long ago Steve left.
It's still hot, so he has some time to enjoy it and let the caffeine do its job, before Steve will drip his way back into the house and force Danny out of bed.
It's been three months since they started this thing, since Danny let a combination of sheer exhaustion and utter frustration get the better of him, and told Steve to either fuck him or stop sending him mixed signals.
For a moment, he had worried that Steve would never look him in the eye again, and then Steve pushed him against a wall and kissed him, and the rest was history.
The sound of the door opening brings him back to the present, then there are footsteps on the stairs, and Steve appears in the doorway. "Hey."
"Hey," Danny replies, smiling over the rim of his mug. Steve looks at him, assessing, that quiet, collected gaze that is one of Steve's rare, truly unreadable expressions. Danny keeps smiling into the face of it, and Steve looks away.
"I'm going to hit the shower."
"Sure." Danny takes another sip of his coffee, enjoys the sight of Steve, damp and tanned, as he moves across the room in only his board shorts. His cock stirs and Danny palms it, content not to do more than that, and his eyes lock with Steve's.
Steve stands frozen by the closet, watching Danny and swallowing hard. He drops the t-shirt he's holding to the floor, and comes to the bed. "Shit, Danny."
"Hmm?" Danny looks up at him, all six feet of him, until he gets to the beautiful frustration that mars Steve's face. "Come here, babe."
Steve reaches down, tugs the covers out of the way, and straddles him, wet board shorts making Danny wince. Steve leans in and kisses down Danny's chest, and Danny slides a hand into the wet strands of his hair, giving himself up to the feel of Steve's warm mouth on his skin.
Steve hums softly as he peels off Danny's boxers, and Danny can't help shuddering at the first touch of Steve's mouth to his hard cock. He tries to say Steve's name, needs two tries to make his vocal chords work. "Babe..."
Steve makes an unintelligible noise and doesn't break his rhythm, doesn't even look up, and Danny curls a loose hand over the back of Steve's head, and lets Steve carry him over.
He's catching his breath, and when he opens his eyes, it's to see Steve take himself in hand and finish off, quickly and efficiently, robbing Danny of the chance. He flaps a frustrated hand at Steve, who raises both eyebrows at him. "What?"
"You--" Danny says, and searches for words. "You're a goof," he says finally, and Steve grins.
"I'm going to hit the shower."
"You mentioned that," Danny replies thoughtlessly, and watches as Steve gets up and retrieves the t-shirt he dropped by the closet. He gathers additional clothes and wanders from the room, and Danny feels a stab of longing in his chest, just under his ribs, and curls onto his side, burying his face in the pillow.
--
Of all the things Danny expected when he started sleeping with Steve, the goofy grins are the most surprising. He's always loved that expression on Steve's face, partly because it's so rare, but the more he is around Steve in their off hours, the more he catches sight of it, and it's making his insides do crazy things.
Steve is humming along to what is a truly atrocious pop song on the radio, slicing vegetables for dinner, and Danny is half-heartedly making an effort at stir frying potatoes while stealing glances.
Steve looks happy, uncomplicatedly happy, and it makes Danny's heart swell.
"What?"
Danny shrugs with the spatula still in his hand. "Nothing, babe."
Steve frowns. "Then quit looking at me."
"What, I can't look now?"
Steve ducks his head, and Danny stifles the sudden impulse to go over there and force him to face up. "Whatever."
"You are so bad at this," Danny replies.
"Oh yeah?" Steve comes over, plate of vegetables in his hand. "Look at you, you're nearly burning the food. Move over."
Danny lets himself be shouldered out of the way, puts a hand on Steve's back and feels him lean into it without thinking, and watches as Steve cooks.
"I swear, I don't know how you survived all these years."
"Take out," Danny says blissfully, "is a very good way to avoid cooking. You pay other people to cook your food for you, it's called a service, it's--"
"That's why you live in that dump, because you spent all your money on--"
"Shut up," Danny shoots back, "I do not live in a dump, what is it with you and my place, huh, you like it that little, what's it ever done to you?"
Steve raises an eyebrow. "You're never there, Danny, don't tell me you're in love with the place."
Danny lets Steve goad him, feels something warm and fuzzy spread through his chest at the sparkle in Steve's eyes. "Just because I prefer present company doesn't mean I hate it; it's a perfectly acceptable place to live."
"It's a dump," Steve replies, because he has to have the last word in everything.
Danny pokes him in the side, and Steve moves out of the way, slaps at Danny's hand.
"What are you, twelve years old?"
Danny sticks his tongue out, and Steve rolls his eyes.
"Twelve," he says, smile wide and proud like he invented the concept.
Danny grins.
--
When Danny wakes, it's out of a deep sleep and to an empty bed. For a confused moment he thinks it's morning and doesn't understand why the room is dark, then his fuzzy mind realises it's still night.
He rolls over and checks the clock. Two a.m., not a time he should wake up alone.
He lies in silence for a few seconds, doing inventory of the sounds he can hear, the soft rustling of the waves, the wind blowing faintly outside, but no noise in the house.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, carefully struggles into a standing position, waits for the sleep fog to clear from his head before he moves across the room on touch and what is increasingly becoming sense memory.
There's a light on in the study, shining faintly across the stairs as he makes his way down, and he lets it draw him in like a moth, carrying him through the living room and to the back of the house.
Steve is leaning against the window, staring out at the impenetrable dark, still clad in the boxers and t-shirt he went to sleep in. He glances over his shoulder at Danny.
"Couldn't sleep?" Danny clears his throat at the sound of his own rough voice. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Steve stares back outside again, then turns to face him. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Hey, you didn't." Danny goes over and leans against the desk, facing him. "Just got a little lonely up there."
Steve's mouth twitches into something that isn't quite a smile, and Danny's heart clenches. "I couldn't sleep," Steve says needlessly.
"Okay." Danny stares at his feet, at his toes on the carpet, before looking back up. "Something interesting to see out there?"
More interesting than in here, he thinks, not lost to the fact that it's Jack McGarrett's desk he's leaning against. Steve shrugs.
"Hey." Danny reaches out and runs a hand over Steve's arm, sliding it down until he can tangle his fingers with Steve's, and squeezes softly. "I'm okay with leaving you here if you want me to. I'm also okay with staying."
Steve looks down at their joined hands. "I..." he begins, and his voice falters.
Danny lifts Steve's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "What's up, babe?"
Steve looks away, out at the ocean they can only hear, not see. "I... It's nothing."
"Yeah?" Danny wonders what he sees out there, and if he'd ask, if Steve would tell him. "You want to come back upstairs?"
Steve's voice is rough when he replies, and he doesn't look at Danny. "I'll be up in a minute."
Danny knows a request for solitude when he hears one. He presses one last kiss to Steve's palm and drops his hand. "Okay, babe. Contemplate away."
Steve looks over his shoulder at that, and the storm of emotion in his eyes makes Danny's breath catch a little. Steve's mouth twitches into a smile, and Danny returns it before pushing off and heading back up the stairs.
--
A week later, and it's one of those days when they spend more hours at work than they do at home. By the time Steve unlocks the front door, it's well past eleven and they're both exhausted. Danny stumbles up the stairs without thought, letting routine carry him into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
When he's rinsing his mouth, he senses movement in the corner of his eye and catches Steve in the doorway, looking at him with a face Danny can't place, something that's trapped between terror and happiness.
He straightens carefully, holding Steve's gaze. Steve tears his eyes away and steps past him, and Danny watches the stilted, tired way he moves, Steve's natural grace sacrificed to the fatigue wearing him down. When Steve stops at the sink, Danny puts a hand on his hip, leans in to kiss the back of Steve's neck, and meets his eyes in the mirror. "We did good today."
"Yeah." Steve leans back a little, and Danny nuzzles at his hair.
He pulls back reluctantly, heading to the bedroom. He can feel exhaustion pull at his own muscles when he undresses and is glad to finally slide between the sheets.
When Steve comes in and flicks off the overhead light, Danny automatically reaches over to switch the light on the nightstand on, giving Steve light to manoeuvre by, and Danny a chance to watch him do it.
Steve is untying his shoes, kicking off his trousers, and strips off his t-shirt. Danny clears his throat when he sees Steve reach for the soft shirt he always sleeps in. "Come here."
Steve blinks at him, caught mid-motion.
Danny jerks his head. "Come on."
"Okay." He drops the shirt and comes over, slides in between the sheets and turns onto his side, looking at Danny in the faint light. "What do you--"
Danny cuts him off by pulling him in for a kiss, tasting peppermint and feeling Steve shift closer. Steve's arm comes up around him, fingers sliding into Danny's hair, and he smiles into the kiss. Steve pulls back for a moment, frowning at him, before he kisses Danny's lower lip until Danny teases him with his tongue.
It's sloppy, uncoordinated, but Danny doesn't care; he lets Steve push him back into the mattress and pin him with one leg. "Neanderthal," he says affectionately when they come apart, and Steve frowns again.
Danny can feel him half-hard against him, lifts his hips to watch Steve's eyes widen, pulls him back in for another kiss. Steve wanders away, licking at a spot on Danny's jaw. Danny slides a hand up his chest, enjoys the feeling of skin and muscle under his touch, letting it feed his desire.
"Danny..."
"Hmm?" He strokes fingers through Steve's hair, the slow burn making him float between exhaustion and the pleasant warmth of arousal.
"Danny, fuck." Steve is hardening against his skin and he pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down at Danny's chest, and Danny reaches out to pull him back in, but Steve resists. "Danny," he says again.
"I'm here, hey."
Steve reaches between them, curls a hand around Danny's cock, and Danny squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling of Steve's callused fingers. Steve knows how to touch him, they've done this often enough that Danny lost count, and Steve gets him to the brink in fast, efficient moves.
Danny finds the presence of mind to return the favour, to wrap his fingers around Steve and slide his hand up and down. Steve hisses at his touch, the arm keeping him up trembling, and Danny wants him closer. "Hey, slow down," he says softly, using his free hand to touch inked skin, feeling muscles shiver under his touch. He slides his fingers up over Steve's shoulder, cups the back of his head and makes Steve face him. "Hey. Steve."
His eyes are wide and shuttered; in the sparse light Danny can see the same expression he caught on Steve's face in the bathroom, the dark fear that's hiding behind his gaze. He's torn between that look and the feelings Steve's hand are wrenching from him, and his orgasm takes him unawares; he goes over before he has a chance to say something.
His own hand stills as he floats for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and Steve makes an impatient noise at him, fingers curling around Danny's. "Okay," Danny manages, starts moving his hand, watches as Steve closes his eyes and bites his lip, and he's beautiful, even now, even like this.
When he comes, it's with a quiet grunt, his forehead pressed into Danny's chest, and Danny feels like gathering him up and pushing him away, like being near and like not wanting to see him at all.
Steve solves the dilemma for him by rolling away, reaching for tissues on the night stand and handing a handful off to Danny while cleaning himself up. Danny wipes at his skin, ignores everything else, even the way Steve turns onto his side, away from him.
--
On the days Steve wakes with the shadows already in his eyes, there is no coffee on the nightstand. Danny watches him go, alerted by some sixth sense to Steve leaving the bed, and he only needs to catch Steve's gaze to know it's not a good day.
He showers and shaves while Steve is out frolicking in the sea, and draws up a battle plan as he waits for the coffee to finish.
Steve stands dripping in the doorway to the kitchen, towel still half over his head, board shorts clinging to his hip bones, and Danny's mouth goes dry and the plans leach from his head.
He swallows drily. "Morning."
"Hey." Steve moves past him, reaching for a mug. Danny stops him with a hand over his.
"Let me."
Steve frowns. "Okay."
Danny lines up two mugs, fills them both with coffee, adds sugar to his own and cream to Steve's, and hands it over.
"Thanks."
"Yeah." Danny sips his coffee, enjoys the feeling of the caffeine hitting his system. He reaches out and uses a tip of the towel to wipe away a drop of water on Steve's forehead, and Steve ducks his head. "Go get dressed before you catch your death."
"Yes, dad."
"And don't call me that."
Steve grins, and Danny can't help leaning in and brushing his mouth against Steve's, tasting coffee and salt water. The combination makes him wince, but Steve is smiling and it's a good sight.
--
Steve comes down after he showered and dressed, and heads straight for the garage. Danny listens to the sounds of an engine turning over and failing to catch. He channel surfs and watches a baseball game, until the increasing pitch of tools slamming into surfaces forces him out to the garage.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
Steve wipes a hand over his forehead. Today might be a relatively cool day, but Hawaii's weather is still insane and the garage is sweltering. "Maybe you should give it a rest," Danny suggests.
Steve glares, the force of his eyes making Danny lock his knees in place. "I want to get it to run today."
"Yeah, well," Danny makes an empty gesture, "maybe it doesn't want to run today, you ever think about that, Steven?"
"It doesn't want anything, Danny, it's an inanimate object."
Danny shrugs. "You're not, and you look like you could use a break."
"In a minute."
Steve ducks back under the hood, and Danny can't help admiring the way his cargo pants hug his ass. He pulls up a seat and settles in to admire it properly, and Steve surfaces again.
"You just gonna sit there, Danno?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna sit here. I'm gonna sit here till you take a break."
"What, you're my mother now?"
Danny rolls his eyes. "Just take a break, Steve. Come on."
Steve straightens himself up to his full height. "Don't tell me what to do, Danny."
Danny sighs. "This is what you'll pick a fight over?"
"Who says anything about picking a fight?"
Danny gestures between them. "This isn't a fight? Okay, it's an argument, you're starting an argument over this. Fine."
"Semantics," Steve says dismissively.
"Yeah, you know big words, whatever. You gonna leave that car alone and come inside for some food, hmm?"
"I said, in a minute. Leave me alone, Danny."
"Steve..." Danny slides off the seat. "Look, just leave this, yeah? You can get back to it later, what's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? I am trying to get this thing fixed, I don't want you to get in the way every five minutes, okay?"
Danny throws up his hands. "I have left you alone out here all morning! Excuse me for wanting to get you away from your dad's ghost for a few seconds so maybe you'll stop looking like someone ran over your puppy!"
In the deadly silence that follows, Danny knows he's fucked up, can see it in the horrifying expression Steve tries to hide as soon as it surfaces. Anger takes its place. "What did you just say?"
"Steve--"
Steve holds up a hand. "No. Just no. I don't want to hear it." He pushes past Danny and out of the garage, and Danny hears the sound of the Silverado starting up, the tires crunching on the gravel, and he kicks the workbench. "Fuck."
--
When Steve reappears, he's wary, staying by the door and holding his car keys in his hand as if he's thinking about walking out again any minute. Danny knows that look too well on him, hates it, hates himself for putting it there.
"Steve."
"Yeah."
"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."
Steve gives him a curt nod. "Not everything is about my dad, Danny."
"I know." Danny sighs, stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from gesturing. "I know, okay, I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
"It's just--" Danny cuts himself off, can't decide whether to speak or stay silent, finally pushes himself. "When you get like that, I can't just watch, you know?"
"Danny, I'm not--" Steve breaks off, scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'm not going crazy."
"I know you're not. Steve, I know." He goes over, fingers itching for touch, but Steve is still giving him that shuttered, distrustful look, and Danny holds back. "Did you eat?"
Steve frowns. "No."
Danny heads off to the kitchen, collects the makings of a sandwich while Steve leans against the doorway.
"Danny, I don't want--"
He glances over his shoulder. "What?" Steve shrugs helplessly, finally drops the car keys on the kitchen counter. Danny smiles and turns to him. "Come here, babe."
Steve comes into his arms without hesitation, and Danny allows himself a deep breath. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Apology accepted." Steve ducks his head as they come apart. Danny can't stop himself, he reaches out and tips Steve's chin up, kisses him softly.
--
Contrary to what Steve seems to think, subtle he is not. After dinner, Danny catches him shifting on his end of the couch, a nervous energy radiating from him that keeps the atmosphere in the room tense, in spite of the way they are sagged out on the couch with beers in their hand.
"Hey."
Steve glances at him. "What?"
Danny raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."
"I want to be here," Steve replies defensively. "What makes you say that?"
Danny keeps looking at him incredulously, and gestures at Steve's general presence. "The way the air vibrates around you, babe. You seriously think I wouldn't notice?"
Steve ducks his head. "I'm a little antsy."
"So take a lap around the block. I don't mind." Somehow, he knows, this ties back to what happened this afternoon, but trying to drag anything out of Steve, even on his better days, is precise work and Danny is too tired to try today.
Some days, it feels like he does all the hard work in their relationship. He shakes the thought off.
"Okay," Steve says, and stands, glancing at the tv and then at Danny. "I'll, uh, I'll be back later."
Sometimes he also wins the awkward of the year award, and it is endearing. Danny smiles up at him. "Take your time."
Steve nods, gives him one last searching look that makes Danny wonder, makes him want to ask what's behind those eyes, and he bites his lip to keep from blurting it out.
He hears Steve open the door, but it closes again too quickly, and Danny twists on the couch to watch Steve stand there, hand still on the knob, looking at him.
"This," Danny says, gesturing, "is not you taking a lap around the block. What's up? You wanna talk about it?"
Steve stalks back, kneels up on the couch next to Danny and says, "No," before looming over Danny and kissing him.
Kissing Steve is nice, and Danny likes doing it; this is how this whole show began. He kisses back without thought, can feel Steve's nervous energy through the onslaught, the fireball that is Steve McGarrett, and he tries to slow it down. "Hey," he says, but his words are lost in Steve's mouth, swallowed up.
Steve makes a noise, soft and heavy, shifts closer, forcing Danny back into the cushions. It's giving him a crick in his neck, but he'll take that if Steve keeps kissing him. He starts at the feeling of Steve's hand on his belt, sliding lower, Steve's palm pressing against Danny's barely hard dick.
He finds himself pulling away from the contact, breaking away from Steve. "Hey, come on, slow down, hmm?"
Steve ducks his head, kisses Danny's neck, pushing his t-shirt out of the way. Danny can see where this is going, goes from halfway interested to dispirited at it, and puts a hand to Steve's chest, pushing him away.
"No."
Steve frowns, cocks his head as if trying to puzzle Danny out. "What?"
"No." Danny sighs. "I'm not in the mood, babe."
He can see the utter confusion the moment it hits Steve, realises with abject sadness that he can't name any of the other emotions that are playing across Steve's expression, doesn't know him well enough. It makes him feel like they're miles apart, makes him question what they're doing even as he knows he wants to be here very, very much.
Steve sits back. "Uh, okay." He runs his hand through his hair. "I'll just..." He makes a vague gesture, and Danny nods.
Steve gets up off the sofa and goes out the door.
Danny leans his head against the back of the couch and blinks away tears.
--
They move around each other gingerly the next morning, and Danny can't help watching Steve from the corners of his eyes. He knows this, knows how Steve is, all that careful hurt wrapped up in six feet of confused emotions, but he feels like if he says something, he'll only make it worse.
Steve makes the decision for him. "Look, Danny, if you don't want to be with me, just say it."
They're in the kitchen and Danny's glad he's just had his first sip of coffee, because while he should have seen this coming, it still hits him hard. "No," he says, leaning against the refrigerator, "that's not it. At least..." He gestures towards Steve. "Unless you want to quit."
Steve shakes his head and swallows hard.. "No."
"Okay." Danny blows out a breath. "Good. We have that out of the way."
Steve looks at him. "I don't understand what's going on, Danny. If you want to be here, then why..."
Danny narrows his eyes. "It was one time, babe, not a sign that I find you repulsive, jesus. Can a guy just not be into it sometimes, huh?"
Steve ducks his head, runs a hand over his mouth. "Yeah, okay, I guess."
"You guess?" Danny raises both eyebrows at him and shakes his head, smiling. "You are so clueless, I swear."
--
The problem of Steve, Danny decides, is that he's just too damn attractive for his own good. Danny has eyes, and a functioning dick, and the other night notwithstanding, he usually likes sex as much as the next guy.
Steve is standing on the lanai, beer in his hand, tattoos peeking out from under shirt sleeves, and Danny can't stop looking. Steve doesn't know he's here, hasn't caught on yet that he's being watched, and it feels almost illicit. The t-shirt is tight enough that Danny can see the muscles in his back work as he lifts his arm to take a drink from the beer bottle, and Danny's memory can provide an image of what Steve looks like without his clothes on.
He's half hard in his slacks and wants to act on it, wants to take Steve upstairs and to the bedroom, unwrap him and make him fall apart. He moves without thinking about it, and it alerts Steve to his presence, makes him turn with a frown. He spots Danny and his expression changes, something fond and private and a little bit scared, and Danny hates that.
"Hey," he says, and reaches out, cups the back of Steve's head and kisses him fondly.
"Danny," Steve says as they come apart, and then he moves in, kisses Danny open-mouthed and intent, walking him back until Danny hits the wall.
The sun is setting in the cove and the rays frame Steve's face, and Danny loves him, loves him so much his heart is bursting with it. He pulls him in, enjoys the simple closeness, the way Steve moves up against him, like he's ensuring nothing can come between them. "Let's make it an early night," Danny suggests, and Steve grins.
"Okay," he says, kissing Danny's jaw.
"The comfort of a bed," Danny muses, "taking our time--"
He feels Steve's hands on his belt, at his shirt. "Come on," Steve says, voice low, "we can do that later."
He's got urgent fingers in Danny's waistband, impatient fingers tugging on Danny's tie, and Danny snaps. He shoves him away with one hand on Steve's chest, doesn't miss the flash of irritation on Steve's face. "What's the matter with you, huh?"
"What?" Irritation mixes with confusion, turns to anger. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This, Steven." Danny gestures between them. "This constant I-have-to-get-us-off-now shit that you pull. Whatever happened to sharing? Whatever happened to lazy, huh? What kind of a Neanderthal are you?"
"I'm not--" Steve breaks off. "What the fuck?"
Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Sometimes, I'd like to take my time, okay? I'd like to actually get you in a bed and spend time, like actual time on doing things that don't immediately get us off. You, you just seem to think this is a race, like if we don't get there in five minutes it doesn't count." Steve looks so utterly baffled Danny can't decide to laugh or cry. Then something occurs to him. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"
"Of course I do."
He knows Steve is lying, well, maybe not lying outright but not really there with him. "Who the hell taught you this shit?"
"No one taught me how to have sex, Danny."
Danny flaps a hand at him. "Not what I'm talking about. This," he gestures between them, "relationships, Steven, how to be with other people."
Steve's face slides from confused briefly into an expression Danny can only call wrecked, and Danny's heart misses a beat. He clenches his jaw to keep from speaking, lets his mind race through what he knows of Steve, and then freezes in place.
Steve is shaking his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and he says, "Of course I know how to have a relationship, Danny, I know you like pretending that I'm not actually human but I have done this before."
He sounds like he's babbling and Danny, Danny is trying to think around the clenching of his heart. "Who with?" he says slowly.
"What?"
"Who with?" Danny repeats. "Who did you have relationships with, Steve?"
Steve shrugs. "Couple of people."
He's deliberately vague, making Danny work for it, but Danny is ahead of him now, or at least thinks he is, and understands why Steve doesn't want to talk. "I know about Catherine," he says, trying a gentle smile to see if it'll soften Steve up, "and I'm presuming there were other guys because I didn't teach you some of the things you do."
"Yeah," Steve says, "there were other guys."
"Where? In port? On ships?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it matters. I read the papers, babe, I just never-- I never thought about it and you, you know?"
"It's not a big deal. We just ignored it."
Danny shakes his head. "You just ignored it? No, see, now I know you're lying, because you and the Navy, you are like this--" he holds up two fingers together "--and you wouldn't risk that."
"Okay, fine." Steve stares at him, eyes boring into Danny's as if he's willing him to understand. "We hid, I hid, that's what you want to hear? That I was in the closet or whatever? Fuck you."
"Steve, hey." He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and Steve pulls away, turns sideways to lean his fists on the railing. "You don't have to hide any more."
Steve looks at him, laughs bitterly, and the sound knifes through Danny's heart. "You read the papers? Then you know it's not off the books yet."
"But soon, right?"
"Yeah, soon." Steve's bitter frown and wide, dark eyes are almost too much to face. "So I won't get fired. You think that makes a difference? You don't understand, Danny."
Danny is beginning to understand, though. He rubs at his eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry, that was stupid of me."
"Yeah." Steve sighs. "So now that you know my dirty secrets, what else?"
"What else?" Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, just this. Listen to me for a moment."
Steve looks at him, eyes narrow and shuttered.
Danny takes a deep breath. "You don't have to hide from me." He holds up a hand when Steve starts to open his mouth. "I mean it. Whatever else, we're not on board a ship any more and out here, it's just the two of us. No one's gonna walk in. I want you to remember that sometimes."
Steve turns away, his back to Danny, and Danny wants badly to make him turn around, but he lets him have his privacy.
"I love you," he says. "I don't care if you say it back, this isn't about that, Steve, I just-- I can't do this if you're not with me, if you don't talk to me, okay, babe? Sometimes, fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this, but when we fuck I want to feel like it means something."
Steve turns at that, eyes red rimmed and wide. "Danny--"
Danny tries a smile. "Okay, so, now you know I'm a ridiculous sap and you can make fun of me. Please, feel free."
Steve laughs, the sound raw. "Danny," he says, "come here."
And Danny goes, wraps his arms around Steve and feels the way Steve's heart beats in his chest. "You're a goof," he says as they come apart, and Steve looks almost insulted. "So what do you say we take this upstairs?"
Steve frowns, and oh, Danny recognises that flash of terror for what it is now.
"Hey, hey."
Steve blinks. "Yeah, okay."
"Yeah? You're not just saying that?"
"Danny, it's just sex, I'm not--"
"Ah, no, no, stop." Danny puts a hand flat on his chest, making Steve stop moving. "If we're going to be in bed together, I want you to be there because you want to be there, because you're hot for me or whatever. Not because I asked, not because I've told you stuff, not because you think it's the only way to be with me. You hear me?"
"Yeah, Danny, I hear you."
In his heart, Danny knows Steve's never thought about this, probably has never even considered how it feels. "Okay. So, I ask again, do you want to take this upstairs?"
"Yes, Danny, I want to have sex with you. Happy now?"
Danny smiles widely. "Very happy. Come on."
He turns into the house and Steve follows, trailing behind him like he's not quite sure what to do with himself, and Danny thinks it's adorable, but refrains from telling him for fear of freaking him out. When they arrive at the bedroom, Danny takes a moment to look around; it's true he spends more time here than at his apartment, and the signs of his presence are everywhere. His clothes mingled with Steve's, his watch on the bedside table, and when he looks at Steve, he knows Steve is seeing it, too.
Steve stays awkwardly by the door, and Danny loosens his tie, unties it and pulls it out of his shirt, and Steve's eyes are suddenly glued to him, and Danny can't help laughing.
"If you want to be the one to take my clothes off, you gotta come over here and do it, babe."
Steve moves quickly, crowds him against the wall, one hand on the back of Danny's head to gentle the impact and yeah, Danny's nerve endings come alive under Steve's touch, Steve's mouth. Steve unbuttons his shirt and slides his hands over Danny's bared skin, makes a noise low in his throat, and Danny can feel his fingers shake against his skin.
"You're a model of restraint, Steven," he says, and takes the sting out of his words by kissing Steve, then tugging his shirt over his head.
Steve's face is a predictable mask of annoyance, and Danny basks in it, grins like an idiot as he starts on Steve's belt. Steve drops his head forward, leans against the closet, kisses behind Danny's ear. He's breathing hard and Danny can feel the way he's holding himself tense. Danny ignores it and focuses on getting them both naked, stripping first Steve's pants and then his own off, and pulls Steve along to the bed. When they slide in between the sheets, Danny has to ask.
"Have you done this before?"
"I've had sex in a bed before, Danny."
"Oy." Danny pokes him with a finger. "Stop being obtuse."
Steve slaps his hand away. "Stop asking me questions then."
"Okay, okay." Danny trails a finger over Steve's chest, watches as Steve looks at it, can't help grinning at the frown on Steve's face. He leans in to follow it up with his mouth, hears Steve's breath catch. Steve's hands are pulling him up and Danny lifts his head, says, "This good for you, babe?" and Steve honest to god blushes, making Danny grin.
"I'll give you good," Steve says, and flips them over until Danny is underneath, and Danny rolls his eyes at him. Steve leans in and kisses him, hands already roaming, and Danny knows where this is going, catches the travelling fingers before they get there.
"Slow down, Steve, hey." He watches as Steve swallows, sees the moment that it hits home, pulls him in and kisses him through it. "I love nothing more than your hands on me," Danny says, "only tonight I have something more in mind, yeah?"
"Yeah." Steve's voice is rough. "Yeah, okay, Danny."
Danny pushes up on one elbow. "So how do you want to do this?"
Steve shrugs. "Same as last time?"
"You like fucking me, huh? Okay, I'm good with that." He feels a thrill of anticipation, can feel it mirrored as Steve shifts against him, feels Steve's hard on against his hip.
"We need--" Steve is twisting away, already reaching for the nightstand, and Danny puts a hand on his flank, making Steve look back. Steve holds his eyes for a second, his mouth twists into a wry smile and he drops his head to the mattress. "Okay, sorry."
Danny smiles, rewards him by sliding his hand down and palming his ass, and Steve groans, the sound going straight to Danny's cock. "Come here," Danny says, and now his voice is rough, too. Steve shifts back, rolls his hips against Danny's until Danny has to close his eyes.
He blinks them open, fights the wave of desire, points a finger at Steve's face. "I know what you're doing and I'm saying you'll pay for it one way or the other."
"Bring it on, Danno."
"I hate you," Danny replies. "I really, really do."
"Oh, yeah," Steve agrees merrily, running a thumb over a hard nipple. "You do."
Danny considers the merits of biting him. "We're going to take our time. If it kills us."
"Okay, Danny." Steve's expression turns serious. "All right. We have all the time in the world." The words sound experimental coming off his tongue.
"Oh, fuck," Danny says, and pulls him down for a kiss.
--
finis.