"What is that?"
"This? This is a suit, what do you think it is?"
"Yeah, I see that it's a suit, it's your good suit. What do you need it for? We're not going UC on this case."
Danny cleared his throat as he draped the plastic-covered suit over the chair facing his desk. "I have a date."
The slick plastic started to slip off the chair and Danny grabbed it, repositioning it higher on the back and giving it a smoothing stroke before turning to Steve, who was tilting his head as he frowned at Danny.
"I'm sorry, you have a what?" He couldn't have heard right—in the months they'd known each other, he'd never heard anything from Danny about his private life beyond the time he spent with Grace.
"A date. You know, a social engagement you have with someone in order to get to know them better."
"Yeah, but, Danny, you don't—I mean, you aren't—"
"Aren't what? Human? A guy who occasionally likes to spend time with someone other than dirtbag criminals or his co-workers? Someone who may enjoy having a conversation that doesn't revolve around weapons, kidnappings, severed heads, or any combination thereof? Yeah, actually, I am that guy. Now, have we got something work related to discuss? Because if not," he waved his hand in Steve's direction, then pointed toward the door, "you can go stomp around in your own—and, might I add, considerably larger—office."
"Kono, did you know that Danny has a date tonight?"
Kono looked up from her computer screen as Steve leaned against her door frame in what he hoped was a nonchalant, totally-uninterested-in-Danny's-love-life slouch. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the fact that Danny and Chin were busy in the command center, so he turned his attention back to Kono.
"No, I didn't." She leaned back in her chair and grinned at Steve as if he'd just given her great news. He tried not to scowl back. "Really? A date? With who?"
Steve stared at her. Why hadn't he thought to ask? Maybe if Danny hadn't rushed him out of his office—if Steve hadn't been so blindsided—
"Steve?"
"Uh, yeah, sorry, he didn't say."
"Hmm." Kono tapped the end of her pen against her bottom lip. "I wonder if it's that prosecuting attorney from Hilo, she would've said yes in a second. Or maybe it's that lab tech that worked on the Makani case, there was a lot of flirting going on—"
"Lab tech?" Steve searched his memory for any lab tech they'd met recently and couldn't remember anyone—at least not anyone he'd consider date material for Danny, if there was such a person not named Steve McGarrett.
"Yeah," Kono continued, "what was his name. Brad? Brian? That's it, Brian. Nice guy. Tall, dark, pretty green eyes. Now that I think about it, he could be your younger brother."
For the second time that day, Steve felt as though someone had punched him in the gut.
"Wait, what?" he stuttered. "A guy?"
"Well, yeah, but—hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good. So you really think it could be this Brian clown?"
Kono arched an eyebrow. "I'm just saying they were, you know, flirting, talking about food and local restaurants. Danny said something about being unable to find a decent steak house,—" Steve thought of three right off the bat but Danny had never asked him—"and Brian mentioned that ritzy new place at the top of the First Hawaiian Center. I had a feeling he wanted to ask Danny to dinner, but I had to step out of the lab and take a call, so I don't know what happened."
Running his palm over his mouth, Steve fought back a rising tide of panic. "But we're talking about Danny here, right? He's not into guys, I'd know if he was into guys." The words came out more harshly than he'd intended, and Kono raised her hands in surrender.
"I'm just telling you what I saw, boss. Sorry I brought it up. I'm sure Danny's whatever you think he is."
There was something off in her tone, but Steve was too distracted to question her about it. He gave her a nod and headed back toward his office, pausing when he came even with Danny's door. Danny was back at his desk, but had swiveled his chair away so that all Steve could see was the top of his head and his right hand as he waved it around to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make to his caller. The suit was now hanging from one of the wall sconces, the same way Danny hung his laundered shirts in his tiny apartment, and the sight of it made Steve's hands curl into fists.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that they were half an hour from quitting time, so that gave him thirty minutes to find out more about Danny's date. He was just about to move on to his office to do a little investigating when he heard Danny laugh—a very carefree, very un-Danny-like laugh—as he swung his chair around to face his desk. Seeing Steve, he held up his hand, inviting Steve to wait until he finished his call.
"All right," he said into the receiver, "sounds good. See you tonight." He hung up the phone, looking at Steve with bright eyes and the happy smirk of a man who was contemplating having sex in the very near future.
Steve wanted to kiss that damn smirk right off his face or punch a wall—or both.
"You need something?" Danny asked.
Yeah, Steve thought, I need you, you idiot.
"Nah. What time are you checking out tonight?"
Danny raised his hands and tucked them behind his head, lacing his fingers at the base of his neck. "Dinner reservation isn't until six-thirty, so I thought I'd hang out here until I'm ready to go."
"Ah." Steve nodded like he didn't really care. "Where are you two—sorry, what was her name again?"
"Whose name?"
"Your date's name, Danny, who else?"
"Ah, right. Yeah, to answer your first question, we're going to that new place on top of the First Hawaiian Center. I'm told they have a ribeye that's out of this world."
Steve shrugged. "Yeah, so I've heard. I like Hart's over on Kuhio myself."
"Yeah? Maybe we'll try that next."
"Cool. Maybe if tomorrow isn't crazy, you and I can—"
"I, uh, meant me and my date, actually, but thank you for the recommendation."
"Wow, already planning the next date," Steve said between clenched teeth. "She must be someone pretty special."
"Something wrong with your mouth?"
"No, why?'
Danny circled a finger around his own jaw. "Your cheek, it's all ripply-looking. Maybe you should see someone, because you really can't grind your teeth like that, you'll wear out the enamel and then all you'll have are these little stubs and you'll have to gum your food—"
"I'm not grinding my teeth, all right? Forget it, I'm going back to work."
"I know this guy, he's a dentist, you could—"
"Just drop it."
Steve McGarrett was a man who was comfortable with his feelings. He knew when he wanted something, why he wanted it, and on rare occasions, why he couldn't have it. He'd needed Danny Williams to be his partner and he'd gotten him; he'd wanted Danny to be his friend and after a rough start, he'd gotten that, too.
But then he realized he wanted more, hell, he wanted everything with Danny—but he also knew he couldn't have what he wanted. Couldn't have all of Danny, since Danny had never given the slightest hint that he was open to dating men, because that meant that Danny might be open to dating him. Yeah, okay, only him, if Steve had anything to say about it. Which he most definitely did—just not out loud.
So Steve had to know. He had to find out who Danny was seeing tonight. If it was a woman—which he fully expected it to be—then okay. Steve would call Catherine and sleep with her and pretend once more that he didn't care that it was her in his bed instead of Danny. But if it was this Brian character—hell, that wasn't just a game-changer, that was a billboard announcing fucking open season on Danny Williams' heart.
He found Brian Tate on the city's personnel website and took an immediate dislike to him. Yeah, maybe he could be called good-looking, but whatever—Steve still couldn't get his head around Danny dating a man, so it didn't matter what he looked like. Dating someone usually led to sleeping with them, and if Danny was going to sleep with a guy—that's when Steve's throat went dry. He had a hell of an imagination, and that was a place he didn't want to go—not if he wasn't in the picture.
So now he knew the when, where, and maybe the who of Danny's date. The problem was what to do with that information. It's not like he could stalk Danny, that would be—okay, yeah, he could totally stalk Danny.
His plan was to wait until Danny left to change, then take up a spot near the bank of elevators on the main floor of the First Hawaiian building. That way he could see who Danny was having dinner with, without being seen himself. It was a doable plan, at least until the governor called him at five-fifty and told him to join her in a meeting immediately.
There wasn't anything he could do or say to get out of it, short of making up some dire, state-wide emergency that she'd have to be informed about anyway, so he let Chin know he was gone for the day and took off, but not before seeing Danny sauntering toward the locker room with his suit slung over his shoulder.
The governor's meeting went later than Steve had anticipated, and by the time he trotted out of her office and flew down the stairs, it was almost eight. He'd thought he was going to have time to go home and change into something nicer himself, but the meeting made that impossible. As he pulled his truck into the underground parking at the First Hawaiian building, he glanced down at his shirt and sighed. Yeah, chinos, a plain green t-shirt, and a denim button-down that may or may not have a gun oil stain on it wasn't exactly proper attire for a fancy steak house, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. He'd have to improvise—and he was pretty sure that Danny loved it when he improvised, no matter how much he yelled about it afterward.
He rode the elevator up to the top floor of the building with a couple in their fifties who appeared to be deeply in love. They held hands the entire way, sharing little glances and smiles that put Steve's teeth on edge. Being around happy people in love wasn't the mindset he needed for this mission—he needed to be sharp, to assess the situation, and to think fast on his feet, just like any other op.
He let the couple precede him into the lobby, which was suitably dark and intimate, like the rest of this obviously overpriced restaurant. Waiting while the hostess seated them, he took the time to scan the dining room behind the podium, looking for Danny's gleaming blond head and finding it almost immediately, the soft lighting—or Steve's personal Danny-radar—allowing Steve to zero in on him easily.
Steve took a moment to let his gaze rest on Danny, feeling proud, possessive, and completely unsure of himself at the same time. In his black suit and white shirt, Danny stood out, not because he was in a room of more casually dressed men, but because he was Danny. Even from across the room, Steve could feel the contained energy he put off as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, the knuckle of one finger idly stroking down the condensation on an almost empty glass of beer. For once his tie was flush against the fully buttoned collar of his shirt, and he was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning, actually smiling at the person beside him, the person Steve could no longer ignore. It was time to assess his opponent, seek out his weak spots, and exploit them—so he turned his attention to Danny's dining companion to do just that.
Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Steve attempted to assess Brian Tate as analytically as possible. First of all, he was better looking in person than in his city ID picture, pissing Steve off and sending cold analysis flying out the window. He couldn't tell how tall he was, but he had brown, close-cut hair and that reminded Steve of Kono's admiring description—tall, dark, with green eyes. His own eyes narrowing, Steve wondered if that defined Danny's type—Rachel could slot into some of that description as well as this Tate guy, so maybe tall and dark—
Wait a minute. If tall and dark was Danny's type, then why hadn't he—why weren't they—aw, fuck.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest and refocused on Brian, instantly getting irritated all over again, this time because Brian was looking at Danny like Danny was the death-by-chocolate choice on the dessert tray. His shoulders canted forward, his hand dangerously close to Danny's sleeve, and a smile that was a little too predatory for Steve's peace of mind convinced Steve that this pretty-boy loser was all wrong for Danny—but then that wasn't ever really in doubt, in Steve's mind, anyway. He had a feeling that Danny was going to require some convincing.
When Brian finally crossed the line by resting his hand on the back of Danny's chair, Steve knew it was time to strike. He slipped his badge out of his pocket and clipped it to his belt, then yanked off his stained shirt and shoved it behind a sofa before turning to the startled hostess, giving her a sharp nod as he strode past her toward Danny's table. Weaving his way through the restaurant, he kept Danny in his sights and his mind on his task, which was to make sure Danny understood he had options other than his current dinner companion.
Those options included letting Steve love him into a happy Danny-puddle in the middle of Steve's bed, then making Danny breakfast—pancakes, if Steve could find a recipe—because Steve was just that stupid in love with his partner.
Danny looked up and saw Steve when he was still twenty feet away. His expression—one of intense dismay—would've been amusing under different circumstances.
"Are you kidding me?" he said as soon as Steve reached their table. "Don't tell me we got called in, I never heard my phone."
"Not exactly." Steve stepped past Danny's chair and held out his hand to Brian. "How you doing, I'm Danny's partner, Steve McGarrett. You mind if I borrow him for a few minutes?"
Brian stood up to shake Steve's hand, proving that Danny did go for tall because this guy was maybe an inch taller than Steve. "No, of course not. It's really nice to meet you, Commander. Daniel's been telling me about some of your cases, and it sounds like—"
"Yeah, that's nice, thanks." Steve looked at Danny and jerked his head. "C'mon, this won't take long."
Danny tossed his napkin on the table and stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned toward a reseated Brian with a sly grin. "Order me some coffee, will ya?"
"Cappuccino?" Brian asked.
Danny slanted a look at Steve. "Yeah, sure, cappuccino sounds good."
That's when Steve changed tactics. He'd originally planned on taking Danny into the elevator lobby to speak with him, but the intimacy of the exchange he'd just witnessed escalated the situation and he knew a more direct approach was now required.
"Let's go." He started walking toward the back of the dining room but stopped when Danny grabbed his arm.
"Go where? Back there? In the kitchen?"
"Yeah. C'mon, follow me."
Leading Danny through the swinging doors and into the harsh neon lights of the kitchen, he paused to look around and not seeing what he was searching for, he stopped a waiter.
"Yeah, excuse me," he said, tapping his badge, "I'm McGarrett, Five-0. Do you have a room, like a manager's office, some place private we can use for a few minutes? I need to consult with my partner."
The waiter nodded and walked them over to a small office with a window that looked out into the kitchen. Steve ushered Danny inside and shut the door behind him, then reached over to turn the rod that closed the blinds.
Danny was looking at him with ill-concealed annoyance, his mouth tight and a frown between his eyes.
Steve attempted a conciliatory smile. "Having a good time?" It sounded lame even to him, and the impatient look in Danny's eyes confirmed it.
"Yes, thank you." The words were bitingly polite, the accompanying scowl telling Steve he was an idiot for asking.
"Right." Steve chewed his bottom lip. "Daniel?"
"What?"
"No, that's what he called you. Daniel."
"Yeah, so what?"
Steve grunted in frustration. How could he explain that only he should be allowed to use an alternative to "Danny"? Maybe Danny's mom called him Daniel, and Rachel had used Daniel but only to give him crap, and sometimes he called him Daniel in retaliation for those cute, exasperated Stephens he got once in a while—so why did this Tate guy get to call him Daniel?
"Never mind."
"Okay. Weird, but okay. So what's the emergency?"
"What emergency?"
"The reason you just interrupted a very nice evening and my first real date since I landed in this sand trap, you barbarian." Danny sighed as he gave Steve a critical once-over. "If this place had a dress code, you just violated it. Not that I'm not saying that half the women and some of the men didn't get all tingly when you marched through the dining room like a freaking superhero, but still—"
"Look, I didn't have time to change, all right?"
"Doesn't make any difference to me," Danny said with a shrug, "because, frankly, if anyone can pull it off, you can. So what are we doing here anyway?"
Steve hesitated, since his plan had only gone as far as getting Danny alone. Now that he'd accomplished that, he found himself at a loss for words. Meanwhile, Danny was looking angry and curious and altogether too invested in whatever Steve had to say, so Steve blurted out the next thing that came to mind.
"Guys, Danny?" Even as he spoke the words, he knew he'd screwed up again, but his frustration and fear made him careless. "Since when do you date guys? You were married, for God's sake!"
The sharp disappointment that flared in Danny's blue eyes pummeled Steve like a physical blow, rocking him back on his heels and making his stomach churn.
"Listen to me, you," Danny said, his lowered voice more dangerous than Steve had ever heard before, "maybe things are different in Steve-world, but the real world it isn't always that black and white, all right? I know who I am and I know what I like, and if that doesn't fit into your narrow-minded view of me, then that's your problem, you got that? Now get the fuck outta my way, I'm going back to my table."
Steve moved quickly to block the door. "No, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that came out all wrong."
"Yeah," Danny muttered, "damn right it did. Now I'll say it again, get out of my way."
Steve held up his hands. "Danny, I'm sorry. Please, just wait and listen to what I have to say."
"You know, of all people, I never took you for a 'phobe." Danny shook his head and looked away, the anger in his eyes giving way to something closer to sorrow. "Jesus, you're breaking my heart here."
"Listen to me, Danny. I'm not homophobic, not even close. I was just, I don't know, caught off guard by something Kono said so I had to see for myself."
Danny jerked back, hunching his shoulders and swinging his hands from side to side. "You had to what? You mean—that's why you're here, to see if I was with a guy tonight? Wow, that's—that's a whole new level of crazy, even for you."
"Tell me about it," Steve muttered.
"So now what?" Danny demanded. "Is your curiosity satisfied enough that I can go back to what I was doing before your little road trip to Nutsville? Because I've got cappuccino and someone who—now, I know you may find this hard to believe—someone who actually finds me charming and attractive and who is waiting for me at my table, in case you've forgotten."
Steve put his hands on his hips and ducked his head, thinking fast. So far all he'd accomplished was to convince Danny that he was both crazy and bigoted and he hadn't even come close to telling Danny the truth.
"No," Steve sighed, "I haven't forgotten a damn thing."
With that, he reached out and flipped off the overhead light, plunging the room into darkness. Before Danny could react, Steve grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in tight. He heard a soft gasp and that was all he needed to find Danny's mouth with his own.
Unsurprisingly, Danny resisted. Body stiffening, he placed his hands on Steve's chest and gave him a shove, but that only gave Steve leverage as he fell back against the door, taking Danny with him. He didn't allow the kiss to end, putting everything he had into it to break down Danny's defenses and get him to feel what Steve was saying with his mouth and his touch.
It took time, but Steve had learned early on that being patient with Danny usually paid off. Of course, he'd never had his tongue in Danny's mouth before, so it wasn't until one of the hands on his chest traveled up over his shoulder to slide into his hair that he realized that Danny wasn't just kissing him back, he was taking over the kiss with the single-mindedness of a man who'd been told a great secret and couldn't wait to share.
Relief poured through Steve, leaving him weak-kneed as he released his grip on Danny's lapels to slip his hands beneath his coat, wrapping his arms around the trim waist and bringing Danny's body flush with his. He forgot all about the fact that they were in a restaurant manager's office and that Danny's dinner companion was probably wondering why his date had disappeared. All he cared about was that Danny was finally in his arms, kissing him with abandon and skill, leading Steve's less-than-coherent chain of thought down a path that included trying to figure the odds that he could give Danny a blow job on the manager's desk before someone knocked on the door.
He got as far as sliding his fingers beneath the buckle on Danny's belt, but then Danny was pushing him away, stepping back until the only part of them that touched was the finger Danny had pressed to the center of Steve's chest. They stood there in the dark, both of them panting and Steve wondering if he'd not only just lost his only chance of telling Danny how he felt, but everything else as well—the friendship, the partnership, everything.
"Danny—"
"Shut up a minute, let me think."
"Okay."
Steve waited, holding his breath and pinned to the door not just by that one finger of Danny's but every fear he had about putting himself out there like this, of being vulnerable to the one person who could hurt him more than anyone else in his life. Casual relationships he could do—hell, he was a master of them—but this connection with Danny had the possibility of becoming so much deeper than anything he'd ever felt before that for the first time in a long time, he felt the unmistakeable burn of pure terror in his chest.
Danny slowly curled his hand into a fist and thumped it against Steve's chest. "What the hell," he growled, punctuating each word with another thump, "is wrong with you?"
"God, Danny." Steve almost laughed, because the answer was so obvious to him. "Where do you want me start?"
"How about—wait, turn on the light, I am not having this conversation in the dark."
Reluctantly, Steve reached over and flipped the switch, flooding the room with harsh, blue-tinged light. He glanced up at Danny through his lashes as he tried to assess the damage he'd just done, praying he'd find the right words to, if not mend the situation, at least prevent Danny from walking out of his life forever.
But damn it, Danny didn't act like he was going anywhere. Instead, he was looking thoughtful as he rubbed his chin with one hand, his head tilted and that sharp blue gaze nailing Steve with an expression giving him fair warning that nothing less than the truth would be tolerated.
"Okay," Danny said, "let's review. Kono said something that led you to believe that my date tonight was with a guy. Right?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Okay. And then, you show up and see it is, indeed, someone of the male persuasion. So, question."
"Danny, I'm—"
"If, say, I'd been with a date who happened to be of a sex opposite from my own, would you have dragged me into this glorified broom closet and kissed me?"
Steve opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut before he could give a less than truthful answer.
"No."
"Okay, fair enough. Why not?"
Steve had gotten pretty good at reading Danny over the months he'd known him, and right now he was picking up on something almost like amusement in Danny's interrogation.
"Okay, detective, let me spell it out for you. If you're with a woman, my assumption, based on that and other evidence, like an ex-wife, would be that you are straight. Ergo, if you're with a guy, then that's pretty strong evidence that you're not all that straight."
Danny's mouth twisted and Steve could tell he was trying not to smile. "Ergo?"
"Hey, I know how to use it, too."
"Yes, you do, thank you. So now that you've made this great discovery, what difference does it make to you? Who said that just because I date guys, I'd let you kiss me?"
"Let me kiss you? Yeah, was that you kissing me back? Because I'm pretty sure it was."
"So what, I happen to like to kiss, and you, by the way, are very good at it. Which comes as no surprise to me, given how you overachieve at everything else in your life, except maybe your driving skills. Those could use some work."
"Yeah, thanks." Steve took a deep breath, suddenly tired of dancing around the situation. "All right, Danny, you want to know what difference it makes that your date is a guy, so here it is. Bottom line, I'd rather you didn't kiss anybody except me, but if you'd been with a woman tonight, I'd've been happy for you, because I want you to be happy here. Yeah, it would've pretty much killed me inside, but if you find someone you love and and want to make a life with in Hawaii instead of being unhappy and homesick, then you wouldn't always be looking for ways to leave me."
That last word hung between them but Steve didn't back down. The time for being coy about his feelings was long gone, blown away by that searing kiss they'd just shared.
Danny's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Whoa, excuse me, leave you? Who said I was leaving you?"
"Look, as much as you complain, I know you won't leave Hawaii as long as Gracie's here, but—"
"I swear to God, are you military types always this literal? Have you no poetry in your soul? I complain because that's what I do! It makes me feel good! Do you know what else makes me feel good? Knowing that you got so bent out of shape about my date tonight that you went all commando and hunted me down in a fancy restaurant, okay? But, thanks to you, now I have a problem."
Steve thought he'd gotten used to these dizzying conversations with Danny, but his head was spinning with the u-turns this one was taking. "What problem?"
"This problem, this issue of you also not being as straight as your recent romantic history would attest. Catherine Rollins is a very beautiful woman, okay, respectfully, and up until ten minutes ago I would've sworn you'd never even looked, not even peeked, at the wild side, let alone walked on it. So now you show up, lay a kiss on me that makes my toenails curl, and I've got to figure out what to do next."
"Yeah, let me help you with that." Steve jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Tell your date goodnight and come home with me."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"No, see, not just like that. I have a decision to make."
"I thought you had a problem."
"Quiet, you. I've got to decide whether you've just gone momentarily insane and tomorrow you're going to ship me home to my mom in a bunch of Fedex envelopes, or, miracle of miracles, you are sincere and that kiss was the Steve McGarrett version of getting my attention, which it most certainly did. In that case, I have another decision to make."
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "And what would that be?"
"Whether or not I can trust you."
"Danny—"
"Hold on, don't give me that face, let me explain. On the street, I trust you, despite the multiple times you've almost gotten us killed, maimed, or otherwise damaged. So, yes, I trust you with my life. By the way, I also trust you with my daughter. God forbid something should happen to me but if it does, I expect you to be part of Grace's life and keep me alive to her, make sure she never needs anything and never forgets me—wait, what is that?"
Steve inhaled sharply, tearing his gaze away and blinking hard. "Jesus, Danny—"
"What is wrong with—"
"Nothing. Something in my eye. So what else, you trust me with Gracie, you trust me with your life, what else is left?"
"What do you think? What have we been talking about here?"
"At this point, I have no idea."
"My heart, Stephen, my heart, or what's left of it." He shoved one hand into his trouser pocket and the other in the general direction of the dining room. "You think this is easy for me? You think after what Rachel did to me I'm ready to risk everything on a relationship with just anyone? Say, perhaps, with a guy who, in the right light, kinda resembles you? Let me answer that—no, I'm not, but until you showed up, I figured the least I could do was enjoy an evening out so's I don't have to sit home alone one more night and think about what I can't have, which, believe it or not, is you." Danny paused, an arrested look in his eyes. "You know," he muttered, twirling a finger near his temple, "that sounded a lot less pathetic in my mind."
"What about this is pathetic? C'mon, seems to me like we're heading in the same direction."
"No, no, we're not, at least not yet. Listen, you want to screw a guy, maybe even a guy from Jersey—and really, who could blame you—go ahead, but it isn't gonna me be. You want something more along the lines of a relationship, something that includes what I like to call a deep emotional attachment, then we can talk."
"Yes, Danny, yes, that is exactly what I want, that's the whole reason I'm here. Do you really think I'd interrupt your evening just because I wanted to sleep with you?"
"Judging by your less than flattering tone, no."
"You're right, I wouldn't. Because I respect you and I respect your choices, and while sleeping with you is something I've been thinking about for months—"
"Months? Seriously?"
"—I never would've said or done anything, not until tonight. So give me a little credit, okay? I'm here because if you're dating a guy, maybe you'd give me a shot, too. And that's all I'm asking for."
"That's asking for quite a lot, actually," Danny stated, and from his flat inflection, Steve could tell that he was dead serious. Risking himself after Rachel ripped him apart had to be tough, and Steve knew that he had somehow convince Danny that hurting him was the last thing Steve wanted to do.
"I get it," Steve sighed, "But this isn't just about you, okay? This isn't easy for me, either."
"Yeah, I know—"
"No, you don't know. You have no idea what it's like, listening to you talk about how much you miss New Jersey all the time. The postcard in the car, the food you can't get here, Christmases without your family, all of that—yeah, it rips me apart, and I figured there's nothing I could do or offer that would make you want to stay here with me, in Hawaii, a place you hate."
"It's not so bad," Danny muttered with a shrug, and Steve almost laughed in relief. If this potentially heartbreaking yet somehow totally typical conversation had reduced Danny to defending Hawaii, then they were definitely making progress.
"Yeah, well, I'm glad you think so, because it's my home and I want to make a life here. And I really need you to be a part of that life, in every way possible. Not just as my partner, not just as my friend. Look, Danny," Steve spread his hands. "I get it if this is all too fast for you. We can go back to what we were before I showed up and ruined your—"
"Shut up." Danny placed his palms on either side of Steve's head, gently guiding him downward. "C'mere."
Steve closed his eyes as Danny's mouth lightly brushed against his lips, a little off-center, with less pressure than a real kiss but a lingering touch more emotionally captivating than any passionate embrace. The depth of affection in the soft caress left Steve aching for more but Danny was already pulling away, straightening his cuffs before running his hands along the sides of his head to smooth back any errant locks of blond hair.
"Okay," Danny said, "I gotta get back. Brian is probably thinking I stiffed him for the tab."
"Yeah, I know." Steve scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, reluctant to let Danny return to his date but unable to think of a reason to delay him any longer. He could kiss him again—always a good choice as far as he was concerned—but that only put off the inevitable. "So where do we go from here?"
"I don't know," Danny admitted, "I need time to think. Go home, I'll call you."
Steve's stomach plummeted. "You'll call me?"
"Yeah, I'll call you—c'mon, don't look that way. When I say I'm gonna call you, I'm gonna call you. As in, I'll call you later tonight after I, you know."
"No, I don't know." Placing his hands on his hips, Steve forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. "After you what, Danny?"
"After Brian and I—wait, are you jealous? You think I'm gonna go park with this guy or something?"
"No, I'm not—"
"Oh yes, yes, you are. Your eyes are doing that Clint Eastwood squinty thing. Oh, and your jaw is all ripply again, it's a total giveaway."
"Yeah, maybe I am, a little." Ducking his head to hide a sheepish grin, Steve decided they could handle one more truth tonight. "Okay, to be honest, I don't know if I want to shake the guy's hand for getting me off my ass about how I feel about you, or toss his ass off Diamond Head. But," he held up his hands, palms outward, surrendering to the inevitable, "I promise to be civil as long as you swear you won't kiss him goodnight."
"Kiss him? What kinda guy do you think I am, kissing someone else when you and me are—" Seeing the barely suppressed laughter in Steve's eyes, Danny threw up his hands. "Never mind, you make me so crazy. Now, speaking of asses, move your sadly under-dressed but still very fine ass outta the way, my coffee's getting cold."
"Wait a minute," Steve placed a detaining hand on Danny's arm, "you said this guy really finds you charming? I mean, I can sort of see the attractive part—"
"Screw you," Danny growled, but the shine in his eyes told Steve he appreciated the return to what passed for them as normal conversation.
Steve pointed his finger at Danny's nose. "Don't start something you can't finish," he warned. He reached behind and found the door handle, giving it a twist to get it open. As he led a grinning Danny out of the office, he was briefly tempted to try and convince Danny to abandon his dinner date and come home with him immediately. But that kind of jerk move wasn't Danny's style, and no matter how much Steve wanted things to be different right now, he wouldn't expect Danny to be anything other than decent when he told Brian to take a hike.
By nine thirty, Steve was convinced that not only was Danny having second thoughts, he'd found Brian to be more of a sure thing than he could pass up. How long did it take to drink a cup of coffee—no, sorry, cappuccino—pay the bill, say good night, and make a phone call? Maybe there was dessert involved, because Danny had a wicked sweet tooth, but still—
To keep himself occupied while he waited for Danny's call, he started doing chores as soon as he got home, right after sending one short but very important text. He cleaned off the work table in the garage, wiped down the kitchen counters, and took out the garbage. When Danny still hadn't called, Steve thought about calling him instead, but decided he'd done enough stalking for one night, so he stripped and remade his bed, then started a load of laundry—doing everything more slowly than usual because he never let his cell out of his left hand unless he absolutely had to.
At nine-forty five, he was reviewing his non-stalking policy, figuring he'd give Danny until ten before he broke down and either make the call or put out an APB. It was that or clean his gun, but with the mood he was in, that wasn't a good idea, since he'd probably put a bullet through a wall. Considering what a bitch of a job it'd been to clean up after the General Pak thing, he decided not to chance it.
That left him wandering around the house, straightening crooked pictures and re-positioning pillows on the couch. He was just about to go back into the kitchen for a paper towel to do some impromptu dusting when he saw a flash of headlights and heard the deep-throated purr of the Camaro's V-8 engine coming up his drive.
He wasn't prepared for this, because he'd been concentrating on everything he could say on the phone to talk Danny off any emotional ledges, ready to counter every weird, elaborate objection Danny could come up with. So having Danny show up wasn't something Steve had expected—but he should have, given this was Danny Williams and Steve had long since learned that anticipating Danny outside of the job wasn't exactly his strength—at least, not yet.
Still, as irritated as he was that Danny had changed the rules on him, he couldn't deny the unmistakeable flutter in his chest at the thought of Danny walking in his front door. Even though he knew that Danny hadn't continued the evening with Tate, there was just enough missing time for Steve to worry that Danny had decided this was all a bad idea and that he needed to break up with Steve in person, which would be totally in line with Danny's internal logic, despite the fact that they'd yet to be together enough to break up in the first place.
Steve took up a strategic position in the center of his living room, waiting for Danny to waltz in without knocking. He'd long ago accepted the fact that Danny treated him like a member of his family and therefore considered it completely within his rights to have the run of Steve's house, so Steve had finally given in and handed Danny a key and the code to his alarm system a couple of days after he'd put Mary on a plane. He wouldn't need them tonight, though—Danny knew that Steve didn't lock up or set the alarm until just before bed, so Danny was free to walk right in and break Steve's heart.
Steve heard the car door slam and braced himself. He was pretty sure by now that he'd convinced Danny that he was ready to take that next step, so in Steve's mind, it was all on Danny and whatever it was he had to say that was so important that he drove out to Steve's house to say it.
Steve heard Danny's quick step on the porch and then Danny opened the door and walked inside, closing the door before noticing Steve was watching him. When he did, he jerked back a little, then dropped his head with an exaggerated sigh, cupping his elbow in one hand and pressing the other to his cheek as he looked up at Steve with mock sorrow.
"You think I'm coming to tell you that I've changed my mind, right?" he said. "Don't lie, I can see it, it's written all over your face."
Steve ignored him for the moment, content to just take in the view. Danny was looking more like the guy Steve had fallen for and less like a guy on a date with someone else, now that he'd lost the coat and pushed up the sleeves of his white shirt. Of course the tie was still in place, but Steve was happy to see the more familiar unbuttoned collar button beneath the loosened knot, and he was suddenly overwhelmingly glad the room was dimly lit so that Danny couldn't see the hearts that had replaced the pupils in his eyes.
Instead, he planted his legs, crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you're standing there like you're about to face a firing squad, that's what makes me say that."
"Fair enough. How was your cappuccino?"
Danny shrugged. "Cold. Truth is, I don't even like cappuccino," he added, shuddering to emphasize his point. "Too frothy, over-priced, not enough caffeine."
"Then why the hell did you order it?"
Rolling his tongue into the side of his mouth, Danny looked at the ceiling. "Well, I may or may not have wanted you to think that I am more sophisticated than the goof I sometimes resemble."
Steve's mouth twitched. "And why would you want to do that?"
"Because," the accompanying sigh was dramatic, "I may or may not have wanted to impress a certain gear head navy SEAL who still manages to look like James Bond while wearing chinos and a t-shirt in a classy restaurant."
Steve had to concentrate on an answer, because Danny had just confessed to trying to impress him, and that image was doing funny things to his insides. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a goof. I mean, yeah, on occasion, you can be a little out there, but I've guess I've gotten used to it. Which, by the way, scares the hell out of me, but whatever. So where've you been?
"What do you mean, where've I been?"
"For, like, the last hour. I'll assume it wasn't with Tate."
"You assume correctly, although an offer was definitely made." Steve's mouth tightened and Danny frowned at him. "Enough already with the glare of death. He made the offer, I declined, we parted ways in the lobby. It was very civilized, so I don't want to hear about any black ops visits to the state's forensic lab to terrorize mild mannered lab technicians, you got that?"
Steve's shrug was non-committal because he was a man who liked to keep his options open. "So, again, where've you been all this time?"
"Driving around, I told you I needed to think. So what's the big deal? I'm here now, right?"
"Phone, Danny." Steve held up his cell. "You were supposed to call me."
"Oh, so," Danny waved his hand over his shoulder, indicating the front door, "you want me to go outside and call you from the Camaro?"
Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back, reaching deep inside for the patience to get through the next five minutes—or, if he was lucky and Danny was just jerking him around as usual—the rest of his life.
"No," he said, opening his eyes, "that won't be necessary." Dropping his arms, Steve took a step forward. "Just say it. Whatever it is you came here to say, just say it."
Danny looked away, rubbing his jawline with the back of his hand, then straightened his shoulders and looked Steve in the eye.
"Okay. I want this. I want you. More specifically, I want us. I want to find out if this insane chemistry we have between us—yes, I noticed, I'm not blind—is more than a comrade-in-arms, brothers-in-blue kinda vibe. Because I gotta be honest here, as close as I've been to my partners and fellow officers, I've never wanted to spend all day in bed with them, eating waffles and making love and watching football, most likely not in that order." He bit his lip and looked down. "Stuff like that," he said, raising his eyes to Steve's, "you can't just say over the phone."
Steve's mouth was hanging open and he knew it. Danny had very nearly described the exact same scenario he'd been dreaming about earlier, and the confirmation that they were so in tune with each other was staggering. "Wow," he breathed. "I mean—wow."
Lines of worry creased Danny's forehead. "Are those good wows or bad wows? I kinda can't tell on account of you've gone a little pale."
"Good," Steve stuttered, "no, those were definitely good wows." He shook his head to get rid of the Danny-speak. "I guess I just didn't expect—"
Danny strolled closer, a knowing smirk on his face. "Expect what?"
Considering that Danny had just handed him everything he'd ever wanted, there was only one thing for Steve to say. "That you were this easy."
That stopped Danny in his tracks. He cocked his head to one side, his expression calculating. "Really? You think I'm easy?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah, I think you're easy. And as long as you're only easy for me, we won't have a problem."
"Oh, and is this your possessive face I'm looking at?"
"Pretty much."
"Okay, I'll deny I ever said this, but I kinda like it. Don't let it get outta hand, you got that?"
"And that would be your bossy tone, right on schedule."
"Oh, you think that was bossy? Try this—haul your ass over here and kiss me, Stephen, because I'm getting tired of standing here all by myself."
Steve did as he was told, which was pretty much SOP where his partner was concerned. He reached out and wrapped his arms around a willing Danny, reeling him in and pausing for the briefest moment to look into those bright eyes before pressing his mouth to Danny's in a kiss that left no doubt that this was the only way it could ever have been between them.
They traded kisses, deep and soft, interspersed with smiles and quiet laughter as they came to terms with this new level of intimacy. Steve learned that Danny kissed like he talked, expressively and with a lot of hand movement. It was that second part that was making Steve crazy, since those creative hands were steadily pulling and disarranging Steve's clothing and burrowing into places with such enthusiasm that Steve was attempting to estimate whether he should try and get Danny upstairs or just give in and make love to him on the couch.
The decision was taken from him when Danny gave his cheek a smacking kiss before leaning back to look in his eyes.
"So," Danny said with sly grin, "we've decided that you're possessive and I'm bossy. D'you know what that means?"
Steve smiled and nuzzled a kiss against Danny's jaw. "Yeah, it means the sex is going to be phenomenal."
"Yes, well," Danny's arms tightened around Steve's hips, "that is a given. But," he gave Steve a little shake, "stop that and look at me." When Steve complied, he continued, "it also means that we gotta be careful in public. I start reminding you it's your turn to change the sheets or you go all ripply-jawed when I'm interviewing a good-looking witness, people will notice. And by people, I mean our partners, who, if I may remind you, are two very bright and intuitive law enforcement officers, trained to know when people are lying to them."
"Then maybe we should just tell them."
"Huh. Yeah, maybe we should. Or, maybe, they're two steps ahead of us and already know."
Steve started to shake his head, but then he remembered Kono's expression when he'd been pumping her for information about Danny's date. Now he knew what that expression was—pure amusement. She may have known all long that he was jealous, which meant he'd probably been transparent for a long time, which in turn meant that Chin probably knew, too. Which meant that as far as family—
"Are you going to tell Grace?"
Danny pulled out of Steve's arms but linked their fingers together to keep them connected. "Am I—of course I'm going to tell Grace, why wouldn't I? I mean, it's not like I'm not gonna call her tomorrow and tell her Daddy has a new boyfriend, but yeah. She already knows you, she already knows we hang together, so we'll take it slow and do it right."
Steve lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb over the arch of Danny's cheekbone. "Do you remember the first day we met, I told you that you were a good father?" Danny nodded. "I didn't know the half of it."
"Thank you," Danny murmured. "That means a lot, coming from you.'
Steve slid his arm around Danny's shoulder and began leading him toward the stairs. "What's Rachel going to say?"
"Rachel? I know what she's gonna say, she's gonna say so friggin' what, or the snooty-nosed equivalent. See, I was straight with her—you'll pardon the expression—before we even got married, so if anything, she'll just be annoyed that you're better looking than Stanley. Which, by the way, I totally appreciate."
"Hey, I do what I can."
Danny stopped Steve by placing his palm against his hip. "Uh, does that include telling old girlfriends and or boyfriends—especially those stationed nearby on very large metal boats with big guns—that you're off the market? Because I have to confess that I too can do the Clint Eastwood squinty eyed thing if necessary. Maybe not as good as you, but I get my point across."
Steve placed his hands on Danny's shoulders. "I sent her a text when I got home, told her we needed to talk."
"Good, because I don't wanna find out if she could beat my ass in a fair fight." Danny clapped his hands together, then grabbed a handful of Steve's t-shirt and yanked him toward the steps.
"So much for the romance," Steve muttered, but he was trying so hard not to grin that his jaw ached.
Danny was a step above him when he turned to Steve, his expression more open and vulnerable than Steve could ever remember seeing outside of when Danny spoke about Grace.
"You want romance?" Danny placed his palm on Steve's cheek. "I'll give you romance. You wanna know what romance means to me? Fifty years from now, when they want to put you in the old SEALs home, I won't let 'em, and you know why? This is for better or for worse, babe. You and me, we're in this for the long haul. What do you say to that?"
"What do I say to that?" Cupping the back of Danny's head in his palm Steve leaned in and pressed his mouth to Danny's in a swift, open-mouthed kiss that left them both a little wide-eyed when they parted. "I say mission accomplished."
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