H50 fic: Dream Warrior
Title: Dream Warrior (sequel to Night Terrors)
Author: grimcognito
Rating: PG-13 (barely, just a few bad words)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Steve/Danny
Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of H/C
Warning: uh, Danny not ranting?
Spoilers: Hmm, not really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and I make no profit from this.
Author Notes: I blame this on iguanamom and her comment that Steve should give Danny a Hawaiian version of a dream catcher. :D
Summary: Steve gives Danny a gift.
Word Count: 1561
Unbeta-ed, so feel free to point out any errors/misspellings. :D
It’s been a month and Danny’s had three more night terrors. It’s like reliving all of his worst cases, but this time, the good guys don’t win, and Danny’s left with all the broken pieces of his life dying around him. It’s the worst he’s been in years, not since he’d still been new on the force and before he’d been able to look at a crime scene without feeling sick.
It has a lot to do with the string of bad case after bad case, each one with more losses then anyone could really stand, running them ragged only to find another twist and another mangled body. Four cases in a row later, and everyone had just about shut down from it all. Danny felt bad for calling and taking away from Steve’s few hours of rest, but it had become his tie back to sanity, hearing Steve’s voice, letting it push away the images floating under his eyelids.
Steve always comes over when he calls, sometimes just to be there with Danny, others to drag him back to Steve’s house. They share a bed on those nights, just holding each other. Steve lets Danny use him as an anchor, and Danny will forever be grateful for the quiet support. Sometimes, Steve shows up when Danny doesn’t call, tapping at the door and looking far too lost for Danny’s comfort. On those nights, Danny gets to be the one to hold Steve together.
They haven’t talked about what’s between them, what it means that it’s their first reaction to find each other, that they don’t mind holding each other close late at night. But they’ve made a silent acknowledgement and they know they’ll have to bring it up sooner or later. Danny had been waiting until they weren’t neck deep in a murder investigation or five before putting himself out in the open, and now, they have their first free night in far too long.
Chin and Kono have gone home, no one feeling the least bit celebratory from their last catch, too late again and hurting too much to feel like they won. Steve leans against the doorway of Danny’s office, waiting for him to finish up the last of his report and watches him carefully, the way he has been all week. Danny knows he looks terrible, he feels terrible, and he’s not sure he wants to find out if his mind wants to play nice tonight.
He gathers up his things and follows Steve out with a soft sigh. They don’t talk as Steve drives, Danny because he’s so tired of it all that he might say something he regrets, like asking Steve to stay with him, not for night terrors, but just to have him close. When Steve passes the turn for Danny’s apartment he figures it’s time to remind Steve that he is, indeed, still in the car. “Hey, that was my turn. If you’re that tired, trade with me because I am not dying in a car going the speed limit when I’ve lived through your insane version of traffic weaving.”
Steve snorts, the corner of his lip curling up the slightest bit. “I didn’t miss it, Danny. I’m taking you to my place. And my driving is not that bad.”
“It is when you’re driving in the opposite lane!”
The response is automatic, a good thing because Danny is currently distracted by the sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach. He stomps it out, because he’s probably getting his hopes up, reading too much into things too soon. “So, you’re kidnapping me.”
Steve looks at him with a raised eyebrow, grinning as Danny points out the windshield, “Eyes on the road, buddy!”
“I’m not kidnapping you, and you’re hardly trying to escape. I just didn’t-I wanted,” he pauses, and Danny watches his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel tightly, struggling for the right words. Huffing a frustrated breath, he seems to give up on it and starts over, “I have something for you.”
Now Danny’s just confused. “Like a gift? What for?”
This time Steve manages a full smile as he pulls into his driveway and parks the car, “You’ll see.”
With that, he’s out the door and halfway up the walk before Danny’s brain can reboot from being caught full force by the fond look on Steve’s face. “You’ll see, he says. It’s too damned late for this nonsense.” But he’s feeling more awake now, following Steve into the house and to the kitchen where Steve’s holding a box and waiting for Danny.
He’s got a look, but it’s one Danny hasn’t seen before, it’s shy and hopeful with a hint of nerves. Danny plays along, spreading his arms wide, “Alright, so what this mysterious thing I am supposedly getting? Should I be worried?”
Steve rolls his eyes, shoving the box out for Danny to take. “Just open it, you ass.”
Danny grins as he takes the box, pleased and feeling warm all over at the idea that Steve would get him something. The box is plain, white and with a name in Hawaiian stamped on the top. Curiosity suitably peaked, he lifts the lid up and digs past the few sheets of tissue paper. He’s not sure what it is a first, carefully lifting the wooden shape from the box and holding it up for a closer inspection.
It looks like a small, stylized wooden skull. It’s got a thick mohawk of slick, lush feathers, round circles for eyes and strings of dried grass knotted in place where the teeth would have been. The craftsmanship is beautiful and the wood looks high quality. He’s seen these before, or at least the cheap imitations of them, hanging in tourist shops all over the islands. This one doesn’t have generic plastic beads, or fake, colored feathers.
He looks up at Steve, not knowing what to say. Steve takes a second to clear his throat and pulls a business card from the box. “One of Kono’s uncles has a friend, Manai, who makes these by hand. It’s a Makini, a miniature warrior helmet, an authentic one.”
Danny strokes a thumb over the smoothly polished wood, stunned at the idea that Steve would go out of his way to get something like this for him. “Why are you giving it to me? You’re the crazy super-SEAL.”
Steve is closer now, long legs erasing the space between them in one step as he runs his fingers gently over the feathers. “It’s for protection, to keep bad spirits away. I was going to get you a dream-catcher, but it didn’t feel right, so I asked Manai if he could make something similar. Look inside.”
Danny can feel his heart clenching, and he has to push down the urge to ignore Steve’s instruction in favor of dragging him down into a kiss. When he turns the helmet over and peers inside, he can see thin threads of brown string criss-crossing across the space inside of it, and a shark’s tooth suspended in the center.
This time, when Steve speaks, he’s even closer, leaning into Danny’s space to see inside of the helmet as well. “The shark tooth is also for protection, and the string is a web to capture the bad dreams so only the good ones will reach you.”
Danny’s never been at such a loss for words, he’ll have to think up something suitably witty later, but settles for some good old fashioned body language. The kiss is short, barely a brush of lips, but it feels like a promise. For a moment Steve just stares at him, and Danny starts to worry that he’s been reading this all wrong, but then he’s being kissed, much more thoroughly, and he’s sliding his free hand through Steve’s hair to pull him even closer. Steve’s got one hand on Danny’s bicep, the other curled behind his neck, and seems to be intent on memorizing every inch of his mouth.
They’re breathless when they break apart, so close that their lips still brush when Steve speaks. “So I take it that you like the gift?”
Danny can feel the dopey grin spreading across his face and knows he looks like a complete goof, but it’s okay because Steve’s just as bad. “Yeah, I like it. Am I supposed to hang it above my doorway or something?”
His smile slips a bit when Steve pulls away, looking unsure again, each word carefully weighed as if he’s afraid Danny might be upset if he gets them wrong. “I was hoping to hang it above our bed.”
“Our bed?” It should be too fast, too soon, but they’ve been dancing around this thing for months, even before Danny called him after that first night terror, and it feels exactly right.
Maybe he should say something though, because Steve’s starting to look a little crushed, and since when has he even needed to search for words? They usually just pour out without any effort, but they couldn’t seem to get past the damned lump in his throat, probably something to do with the suspiciously warm glow that’s settled in his chest. “Yeah, that sounds like the perfect place.”
Steve’s smile is so stupidly endearing that Danny has to taste it, and it tastes like the start of a very good night.
A/N: That was by far the fastest I've ever written a sequel. Wow! :D
Here's a quick example of a Makini: http://static.zoovy.com/img/tikimaster/W640-H480-B8e7a47/H/h0081_lg.jpg
I have one of these hanging along with my dream-catcher above my bed. They don't have the string and shark tooth, Steve got that custom made.