"Hey, Martin, wait up!"
Martin paused on the street corner, slipping on his sunglasses as Danny trotted toward him through the crowded city sidewalk. His heart did that fluttery thing it did every time now when he was around Danny, his skin warming with that little tingle of heightened awareness as Danny drew near. Something was happening between them, something totally unexpected, something good, but neither of them had taken any steps toward putting it into words or actions, the specter of Elena and the heartbreak she'd caused Danny when she'd left still lingering between them. Nevertheless, there was something there, in dopey, shy smiles that lingered too long and silly jokes only they shared.
As Danny came near, Martin grinned at him, then mentally shook his head as he caught himself admiring the firm stride of Danny's long legs. "I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant."
Danny nodded, reaching into his pocket. "Yeah, my meeting ended early. Check this out." He pulled out a new iPhone and held it up so Martin could see it. "Look at what this baby can do."
Martin reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his own phone. "No, wait, let me show you mine. I just got it."
The two men began pressing buttons and fiddling with their phones, their looks of excitement fading to puzzled expressions and then frowns as the phones failed to work the way they expected. Mutters of "no, wait, I got it" and "damn it, that's not right" were ignored until they looked up at each other. There was a brief pause and then they both began to laugh, shaking their heads sheepishly as the phones were put away.
"I just spent an hour with Lucy, showing me how to work this damn thing," Danny confessed. "She made it look so easy."
"That was your important meeting?" Martin crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Danny with a mock scowl. "Man, I told you I was starving!"
Danny nudged Martin's arm, turning him toward their destination. "Martin, when are you not starving? And who taught you how to use the new phone, huh? Looks like you're at as incompetent with that thing as I am."
Martin ducked his head, slanting a glance at Danny. "Lucy," he confessed. "She said I was hopeless."
"Great," Danny said, "so I guess that means if we ever want to actually talk to each other—"
"—we'll have to use tin cans and string, yeah."
"Hey, Martin, speaking of talking, do you think you and I could get together after work tonight?"
Martin dodged a pedestrian as he and Danny stepped off the curb to cross the street. He noticed a change in Danny's tone and wondered what it meant—Danny sounded serious, as though there was something important he wanted to discuss. He thought about asking Danny why he wanted to meet off the clock but dismissed the idea, fear warring with the faint flare of hope in his chest as he told himself to play it cool.
"Sure," he said with a shrug, "I've got nothing going on. You want to meet for dinner somewhere?"
"Dinner?" Danny nudged Martin again, this time hard enough to get him off-stride. "We haven't even had lunch yet!"
Martin started to reply but was drowned out by the sudden, ear-bending howl of screaming brakes, followed by the loud roar of metal colliding with metal. Both men pivoted toward the sound, Martin reaching to grab Danny's arm as they both instinctively ducked away from flying debris that rained down on them. When he looked again, Martin had to peer through a wall of smoke and steam to see a city bus half a block away, its front end staved in by the almost unrecognizable remains of a black Escalade.
"Oh, Jesus," he muttered. Danny pulled out of his grip and started running, Martin right on his heels. They paused on the edge of the accident long enough to exchange a glance and a nod, then they were both on the move again, Danny toward the bus as Martin maneuvered his way to the driver's side of the Cadillac. He didn't bother to call 911—one glance around confirmed that at least three people were already on their cells.
After that, all he knew was smoke and noise and blood—God, so much blood—and the cries of the injured. Both he and Danny had rudimentary first responder's training, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The driver of the Escalade was DOA and after making sure there were no passengers either trapped or injured inside, Martin relegated the horror of the dead driver to a corner of his mind and worked his way over to the bus, forcing his way through the crumpled folding doors to help Danny triage the driver and passengers.
It seemed like hours, but later Martin would realize that less than fifteen minutes had passed before emergency personnel arrived on the scene, at first supplementing the work he and Danny were doing and then finally allowing them to stand aside while they began ferrying the injured to waiting ambulances. By that time they were both filthy and exhausted, their hands scraped raw from tearing at bent metal and molded plastic as they'd struggled to reach victims trapped in their seats.
Finally, they stood shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, both of them breathing heavily in the aftermath of fading adrenaline and intense physical labor. Martin listened as Danny finished his phone call to Jack, letting him know what had happened. His hip was aching and as he glanced down at his hands, he could see bright strips of blood around the edges of nails that had been ripped down to the quick in his haste to free a young girl caught in the twisted wreckage of the bus.
As Danny put his phone away, Martin gave him a tired smile. "Guess you really can use that thing, huh?"
Danny's return grin was just as forced. "Yeah. Jack said we're done for the day, we can go home."
Martin nodded. "Thank God. A shower sounds real good right now." He frowned as Danny lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at his reddened eyes. Danny's hand was covered in blood, both dried and fresh, and something told Martin it wasn't from a stranger. As Danny's torn cuff fell away, Martin saw the deep gouge in Danny's hand, just above the prominent wrist bone.
"Hey," he said, gently guiding Danny's hand down so he could see, "that looks nasty. You should see a doctor."
Danny glanced disinterestedly at the blood welling up from the wound, then clamped his other hand over it. "It's not that bad. Besides, every emergency room within ten miles is going to be swamped. I'll stick a Band-Aid on it at home."
"Listen, I know you live closer, but why don't you come home with me?"
Danny glanced at Martin, then looked down at once-shiny loafers that were now covered with dust and blood. "I need a change of clothes more than anything."
"I've got sweats you can borrow," Martin replied, surprised at the desperate tone in his own voice. The need to keep Danny close was as sudden as it was overwhelming. He'd felt protective toward Danny for a long time, watching helplessly from the sidelines as Danny got hurt time and time again, trying to be there to pick up the pieces but more often than not coming up hard against the wall of Danny's stubborn pride. Martin was aware of his own inability to say or do the right thing, but now, with Danny staring dully at the remains of the accident, blood spreading between the fingers that covered his wound, Martin knew he could at least offer shelter and a hot shower.
Danny slanted a look toward Martin. "Still got that lumpy mess of a leather couch?"
"Hey, I love that couch. Best seat in the house for watching football."
"Yeah, if you don't mind hours of physical therapy the next day, trying to get your neck unkinked."
"So is that a yes or what?"
To Martin's surprise, Danny nodded once. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
Martin tossed the dark blue sweats onto his bed, followed by a pair of thin athletic socks that Danny could wear with his newly cleaned dress shoes. Danny had insisted that Martin take the first shower and Martin had been as quick as possible, barely pausing to dry off before donning an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He'd handed Danny a pile of towels and pointed him toward the bathroom, then hurried off to make a pot of strong coffee, his mind racing over what he had food-wise to throw together for a quick meal.
It hadn't been easy to extricate themselves from the chaos. After giving brief verbal reports to the officer in command of the scene, they'd had to avoid the reporters that had descended like locusts, accosting anyone they suspected of being involved in the hope of extracting a sound bite for the six o'clock news. There'd been one particularly aggressive reporter who had latched onto Danny and Martin had stepped between them to defuse the situation before shepherding Danny back to the underground parking in the FBI building. Danny had been silent on the drive to his apartment, his head turned resolutely toward the passenger side window, and Martin had begun to regret asking Danny to come home.
Hearing the shower turn off, Martin poured coffee into a mug and added a fair amount of sugar, knowing that Danny preferred his coffee strong and sweet. Like Elena, Danny used to say with a fatuous smirk, and Martin would smile dutifully as his heart withstood yet another blow. But that was almost a year in the past, and the Danny Martin knew and loved was coming back to him stronger every day, revealing himself in the constant teasing he and Martin indulged in when the job allowed, and the long, heartfelt talks they shared off duty. If they never advanced past the buddy stage of their relationship, Martin would be thankful to have that part of Danny to call his own, and any hopes beyond the deepening friendship they shared would have to be ignored in favor of cherishing what they had.
Knocking on the bathroom door, Martin waited, eyes on the mug in his hand, hoping that the hot water had made Danny feel better. When the door opened, emitting clouds of steam, he looked up with a smile that faded as he took in a still-damp Danny, a thick green towel riding low on slender hips. The sudden shot of aching desire that ran through his veins was unexpected and he cut his eyes away, hoping that he hadn't revealed anything.
"Here." Martin thrust the mug at Danny, who took it with an appreciative grunt. "I've got some chili on the stove," he continued, "so let me just—"
"Martin, wait." Danny set the mug on the bathroom counter and turned back to Martin with a sheepish smile as he held out his hand. "I still need that Band-Aid."
Martin took Danny's hand in his, frowning at the now-clean wound that was still oozing a fair amount of blood. Bracing himself to ignore a half-naked Danny standing so close, Martin opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink and pulled out a package of bandages, searching through them until he found one large enough to cover Danny's injury.
"Sit." He motioned toward the closed toilet lid and waited until Danny was seated, then grabbed a towel to wipe away the blood that had gathered on the wound. Kneeling beside Danny and working quickly, he daubed it with some Neosporin before covering it in a large, square bandage. Keeping his eyes on his task, Martin gently smoothed down the pale plastic fabric, making sure there were no bubbles or sticky edges.
"There," Martin said, raising his eyes to Danny, "that should do—"
He was cut off mid-sentence when Danny slid his uninjured hand around Martin's neck, pulling him close and pressing their mouths together. Martin jerked back in surprise but Danny held firm, turning his head until their lips found a natural fit. Eyes closed tight, his fingers still gripping Danny's wrist, Martin let himself fall headlong into the kiss and the intoxicating taste of Danny on his tongue. Ignoring the cold tiles beneath his knees, he reached out with his free hand until he found the smooth, warm skin of Danny's waist, just above the fold of damp terrycloth, his palm tingling with the intimate connection.
The kiss broke and Martin had just enough time to draw a quick breath before Danny was kissing him again, pulling his injured hand out of Martin's grip and slipping it beneath the soft fabric of Martin's untucked t-shirt. Rocking back on his heels, Martin pulled Danny onto his lap as the kiss deepened, his mind reeling with stunned pleasure until the tucked corner of the towel covering Danny's hips gave way, keeping him barely covered but exposing his thigh to the waist. When his hand connected with the moist skin of Danny's hip, the fog of lust cleared from Martin's head just enough for him to pull back and stare into Danny's eyes. They were only seconds away from having sex on the floor on Martin's bathroom, and as much as being with Danny was something he'd dreamt about for years, this wasn't the way Martin wanted it to happen.
Danny was looking calmly back at him, his dark eyes warm, his generous mouth lifted in a tender smile. Instead of being put off by Martin's withdrawal, Danny seemed to accept it, even welcome it, as he lifted a hand to Martin's cheek, stroking it lightly with his fingertips.
"Jesus, finally," he murmured. "I've been wanting to do that forever."
"Danny?" Martin whispered. "Uh, what the hell just happened?"
One dark eyebrow rose in amusement. "I know it's been a long time, but do you really need a review?"
Martin blinked, momentarily sidetracked. "What do you mean, you know it's been a long time?"
Danny laughed softly and leaned forward to steal a swift kiss from a still bemused Martin. "I know because I've been paying attention."
"To what? To—to me?"
"Yes, to you, Martin." Danny looped his arms around Martin's neck, apparently oblivious to his nearly naked state. "About nine months ago I finally pulled my head out of my ass and you know what I saw?"
Martin's eyes widened. "What?"
"I saw you," Danny replied simply, "and it was like I'd never really seen you before."
"But—" Martin lowered his eyes, "you, you're not—come on, Danny, it's me. We've known each other for years, you don't just wake up one day and—"
"No, not just one day. A lot of days. A lot of nights, trying to figure out why Elena and I went so wrong at the end. Nights spent wondering what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were alone. Days staring at you when you were sitting at your desk, so serious, hoping you'd look over and smile at me or make one of your lame jokes. So, no, not one day, but nine months of days and nights spent falling in love with you."
Martin's breath flew out of him in a silent sigh, leaving him lightheaded. Danny had just confessed to the impossible and Martin was unsure how to proceed. Part of him wanted to finish what they'd begun, to forever bind the magic of the moment to them both, but he knew that Danny, behind his self-assured smile and knowing expression, was anxiously waiting for his reaction.
Martin cleared his throat and gingerly placed his hands on Danny's waist, shifting them both into a more comfortable position. "Well, all I can say is, you're a little late to the party, bro."
Danny frowned as his fingers played with the short hair that curled over the nape of Martin's neck. "How so?"
"You say you've had nine months to figure this—us—out? Try living with this thing for years."
It took a few seconds for Martin's revelation to sink in, and when it did, Martin's stomach twisted at the regret that dimmed Danny's eyes.
"I never wanted that for you," Danny choked, "I'd never hurt you like that. I just—I swear to God, Martin, I didn't know."
"Shh, it's okay." Martin ran his hand over Danny's wet hair, drawing his head to his shoulder. "It's nothing, it's over. I just can't believe we're here now."
A soft breath of laughter drifted across his throat. "You mean here, in a puddle of cold water on your bathroom floor, or here—"
Martin ducked his head to silence Danny with a kiss. "I mean here, together, you idiot. The cold water is just a bonus."
They kissed again, a gentle, exploratory kiss that ended when Martin's hip twinged. He didn't say anything, but his grunt of discomfort was enough to alert Danny that they needed to move. He disentangled himself from Martin's embrace and rose to his feet, giving Martin a flirtatious wink as he secured the towel around his waist before offering Martin a hand up.
Martin expected this moment of transition to be awkward but it wasn't. Danny turned bossy and playfully shooed him out of the bedroom, telling him to make sure the chili wasn't burning while he got dressed. Martin was happy to do as he was told, his mind still a dazed blank and his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he turned off the burner beneath the chili and set the bubbling pot aside.
By the time he went back into his living room, Danny was already there, sprawled on the couch, dressed in Martin's borrowed sweats. He reached out in welcome but Martin hesitated, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the cushion near Danny's hip instead of giving in to the urge to curl up into the circle of Danny's arms.
"Why now, Danny?" he asked. He wanted to believe so badly that this wasn't a dream, but nothing was ever this simple. "Why today?"
Danny shrugged. "Maybe it wouldn't have been today. Maybe I would've lost my nerve tonight and it'd be just another missed opportunity. But that accident, those people—what if some of them died never telling the most important person in their life that they loved them?" Danny sat up and placed his hand on Martin's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "In the end, does it really matter? Something was going to have to happen sooner or later."
Martin tilted his head. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"I couldn't risk it anymore. There was always a chance I'd be too late, always the fear that there'd be another Kim or another Sam or Luke who'd—"
"Wait a minute. You knew about Luke?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah, I knew. See, that's what made all this so much harder. If I'd known for sure you were straight, I'd never have mentioned anything to you, not one word."
"I don't know what to say, I—"
Danny tugged on his shoulder. "Then don't say anything. You always think too much, Martin. After a day like today, it's okay to just feel."
Martin let himself to be drawn down onto the couch, fitting his limbs into the angular slopes of Danny's body as Danny wrapped his arms around him. Despite the newness of this relationship, it felt perfectly natural to relax into Danny's warmth and to freely offer his own strength and comfort in return. They exchanged lazy kisses, allowing themselves time to settle into this unexplored world they were discovering together, letting desire and love speak equally in their first tentative caresses.
"You're right about today," Martin murmured against Danny's throat. He hitched Danny closer, smiling when Danny spread his fingers beneath the fabric of Martin's t-shirt, warming his back. "That's why I invited you home. After what we saw, I guess I needed to keep you near, make sure you were okay, maybe chase away some bad memories." He lifted up on one elbow until he could see Danny's eyes. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
The smile he received from Danny spread warmth through every part of Martin's soul. It was crazy, he thought, looking into Danny's bright brown eyes, so crazy to feel like this. Out of control, off the charts, and yet, after all the tears and heartache they'd shared between them and even inflicted on each other, it felt absolutely right.
"Just try to get rid of me," Danny teased. "Sorry, but you're stuck with me, like it or not."
"Oh, I like it, believe me. I like it a lot." He winced, his words sounding completely inadequate to his ears but he meant them with all his heart, and he could see by the gleam in Danny's eyes that Danny believed him without question. Years of hurt and misunderstandings, missed connections and compromises, all faded away, leaving them to start anew on Martin's well-worn—and yes, lumpy as hell—leather couch.
For two men who'd just come home together for the first time, it was the best place to be.