I'll Walk On Water; PG-13; Steve/Danny
My h50_holidayswap fic! My recipient was alamo_girl80, who wanted first kisses and first times and make it H/C if possible and Danny whumping and angst and things. I tried to mix it all in, it is probably not as angsty as I'd want it to be, but. Here we are. Looked after by tailoredshirt, anything left is my own fault.
Danny's father dies. A storm hits Hawai'i. These events are not related, but they bring Steve and Danny together.
The rain will not stop, and it’s just fitting, in a way, that it’d be raining this hard while he’s here, while he’s not where he should be, where he’s supposed to be - by Danny’s side, a friend if he can’t be more, if Danny won’t let him be more.
But he’s here, in an apocalyptical-looking storm in Hawai’i, and Danny is somewhere, over the Pacific, back to the mainland, over the clouds, unaware.
;;;
The phone call comes on a Tuesday. They’re in the Camaro, Steve driving as always, as Danny picks up, the ringtone the one Steve has learned to recognize as ‘family members that are not Grace’.
“Hello?”
Steve tries his best not to listen in too closely, keeping his eyes on the road as he strains to hear while not appearing to do so. He can feel the air shifting, though, and when he darts a look towards Danny’s face, he sees him pale, paler than usual, his eyes wide and his lips parted open.
“Yes, yeah, Ma. Thanks. I’ll - I’m sorry.” And with that, he hangs up, and doesn’t say anything. For more than 30 seconds, which leads Steve to think he’s entitled to worry.
“Danny?”
“Steve?” Danny sounds tense, angry, hurt, and Steve’s worry increases tenfold. Screw this - Steve takes a sharp left in a small forest path and kills the engine, as Danny turns to him. “What the hell, Steve?”
Steve doesn’t back down, keeping his voice calm, steady, despite the feelings he’s not quite willing to pinpoint thrumming under his skin.
“What just happened?”
Danny gives him an incredulous look. “Excuse me? How is whatever my mother called me for any of your business? Just drive, Steve.”
It could have been a misunderstanding, a lack of attention, Steve could have thought the call was work-related, it could have been any of these reasons, only it wasn’t, and they both knew it. Steve is curious, to the point of uncomfortably nosy sometimes, and he is working on it, but whenever Danny is concerned, he just can’t help himself. He has to know.
“Danny -”
Danny punches the passenger side glove box, his fist hitting the plastic hard, but he doesn’t even wince as Steve jumps, turning angry eyes brimming with tears to Steve.
“My Dad’s dead, Steve,” Danny says, defeated, so obviously sad Steve doesn’t know what to do.
The wave of grief that flows over Steve threatens to drown him, but something in Danny’s eyes tells him not to act on it, not to anything that could destroy them forever. He turns his eyes back to the road, and guns the engine.
“I’m sorry, Danny,” is all he says, his mouth dry and his heart breaking once more.
;;
“So, I’ll be off tomorrow morning. Funeral’s Friday.” Danny drops a vacation request on top of the papers on Steve’s desk, avoiding his eyes as he crosses his arms, as if he’s worried Steve is going to tell him he can’t go.
Steve swallows hard, looks down at the sheet of paper, Danny’s messy scrawl all over it, and he nods absent-mindedly.
“Of course, Danny. You take as long as you need.”
“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” Steve flicks his eyes up, meeting Danny’s for a split second, something like understanding passing between the two of them. Steve gets it, gets it more than anyone else they know, and Danny is aware of it.
“Do you want me to,” Steve pauses, unsure of how to phrase this right. Biting the bullet always tends to make Danny defensive, and Steve doesn’t want him to think it’s pity, either. “I can come along. If you want.”
Danny parts his lips, looking for all he’s worth, honestly surprised. Of all his amazing detective skills, Danny can be the most oblivious when it comes to himself, and to Steve. It’s nothing new, and yet Danny hasn’t caught on, hasn’t told Steve to back off, hasn’t done anything.
“Thanks. I’ll be okay, though.”
Steve’s not actually taken aback by this answer, even if it still makes his stomach bottom out. He lifts his chin and nods curtly, and Danny steps out of Steve’s office without another word, leaving too many hanging in the air.
;;
The storm breaks out an hour before Danny’s plane is scheduled to leave. Steve doesn’t think much of it at first, another rainstorm that will die down quickly, leaving a freshness in the air in its wake. Steve doesn’t allow himself to worry too much about Danny, alone in the airport.
Or, well. He tries not to allow himself to worry too much, but he can’t help it. It’s a curse, Danny under his skin in this way, from day one, from the very moment they met, he’s crawled his way inside Steve, took hold, and since then has refused to let go.
And this feels too much like Danny tearing himself away from Steve. It’s stupid, because Steve understands the need for some space for Danny to clear his head, he understands better than anyone else, but he still wants to be there for Danny like Danny was there for him.
And the rain, the rain doesn’t let up, fits his mood, fits his thoughts, and probably Danny’s, too.
;;
Steve’s phone rings a few hours later, the ringtone particular, and making him almost crawl out of his skin.
“Danny?” He asks when he picks up, suddenly worried.
“I’m on my way to yours.”
Danny sounds ten sorts of broken, and Steve’s heart breaks all over again. “What happened?”
“A storm happened, Steven, did you not realize, or is it localized on Honolulu Airport, because that would be just my luck.”
“No, the storm is everywhere. Was your flight cancelled?” Steve feels like an idiot. of course Danny’s flight was cancelled, otherwise he’d be on his way to Newark, wouldn’t he? Danny sighs, sounding lost.
“Yes. Steve -”
Steve cuts him off before he can say anything else. “We’ll talk when you get here, Danny, okay? I’m sorry your flight got cancelled.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Danny doesn’t add anything else, hanging up then, and Steve imagines him throwing his phone on the passenger seat of the Camaro, imagines his white-knuckled fingers curling around the steering wheel as he fights against the elements on his way to Steve’s.
Steve keeps on thinking about this, about Danny driving safely under the rain, and he settles under his porch, letting the salty, wet wind roll past him as he crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing his upper arms. Hawai’i, in a rainstorm, is cold, but Steve is unwilling to go back inside, miss Danny coming in.
He’s a mess, Danny is, and Steve is more than ready to take some of the burden and the pain, carry it along with his own, because Danny has been taking so much of his own burden, it only seems fair for him to do this, to be there for Danny, a solid as he can be. He doubts it’ll ever be enough, but that’s all he can do.
He stays there until the Camaro shows up into his driveway, the rain battering it hard. Danny parks but doesn’t move, a faint shape behind the wheel. Steve takes a step forward, his toes getting wet in his flip-flops. Danny still doesn’t move, and Steve wants to see his expression, if he’s feeling dejected, sad, angry, frustrated. Steve has no idea what to do.
When Danny opens the car door and step out, he still stays close to the Camaro, looking at Steve as rain soaks him through, making his hair go limp over his forehead, into his eyes. He looks so beautiful, right in that moment, that Steve doesn’t know if he’s still breathing.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Danny yells into the rain, shrugging against it, looking at Steve with all the pain in the world.
Steve can’t take it any more, and he’s going down the steps and crossing the space between the house and Danny in a second, suddenly drenched to the bone just like Danny who’s got hair in his eyes and visible tear tracks down his cheeks despite the rain. And Steve closes the gap, frames Danny’s face with cold hands, fingers digging in the skin as he leans in and kisses Danny, putting all his words in the action, moaning when Danny surges up against him, like electrified, kissing back with his fingers in Steve’s hair and desperate sounds escaping him.
They kiss into the rain, hot and cold, entirely insane and unavoidable, and Steve presses Danny into the side of the car, holds him there as one of his hands travels along Danny’s side, his rain-soaked shirt clinging to his skin. He pulls away when he feels like he’s got no other choice and rests his forehead against Danny’s, who’s looking back at him with hooded, sad eyes.
“You know what? I won’t even ask. Because, seriously, fucking finally.”
Steve could laugh. Something hysterical bubbles up his throat, but he forces it down, keeping it as tame as a smile. “You got to work on the signals you send, in that case.”
Danny lets out a shaky breath, like he wants to laugh, but then he closes his eyes, looks away. “I can’t - I can’t miss my Dad’s funeral, Steve.”
“You won’t. The rain will let up, and we can get tickets in the morning.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’m coming with you.”
Danny turns his head towards Steve again, but Steve is ready for a fight if needs be. He’s not leaving Danny to go on his own, with or without Danny’s consent. But Danny just breathes out and sags against Steve, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.
“Okay.”
Danny's father dies. A storm hits Hawai'i. These events are not related, but they bring Steve and Danny together.
The rain will not stop, and it’s just fitting, in a way, that it’d be raining this hard while he’s here, while he’s not where he should be, where he’s supposed to be - by Danny’s side, a friend if he can’t be more, if Danny won’t let him be more.
But he’s here, in an apocalyptical-looking storm in Hawai’i, and Danny is somewhere, over the Pacific, back to the mainland, over the clouds, unaware.
;;;
The phone call comes on a Tuesday. They’re in the Camaro, Steve driving as always, as Danny picks up, the ringtone the one Steve has learned to recognize as ‘family members that are not Grace’.
“Hello?”
Steve tries his best not to listen in too closely, keeping his eyes on the road as he strains to hear while not appearing to do so. He can feel the air shifting, though, and when he darts a look towards Danny’s face, he sees him pale, paler than usual, his eyes wide and his lips parted open.
“Yes, yeah, Ma. Thanks. I’ll - I’m sorry.” And with that, he hangs up, and doesn’t say anything. For more than 30 seconds, which leads Steve to think he’s entitled to worry.
“Danny?”
“Steve?” Danny sounds tense, angry, hurt, and Steve’s worry increases tenfold. Screw this - Steve takes a sharp left in a small forest path and kills the engine, as Danny turns to him. “What the hell, Steve?”
Steve doesn’t back down, keeping his voice calm, steady, despite the feelings he’s not quite willing to pinpoint thrumming under his skin.
“What just happened?”
Danny gives him an incredulous look. “Excuse me? How is whatever my mother called me for any of your business? Just drive, Steve.”
It could have been a misunderstanding, a lack of attention, Steve could have thought the call was work-related, it could have been any of these reasons, only it wasn’t, and they both knew it. Steve is curious, to the point of uncomfortably nosy sometimes, and he is working on it, but whenever Danny is concerned, he just can’t help himself. He has to know.
“Danny -”
Danny punches the passenger side glove box, his fist hitting the plastic hard, but he doesn’t even wince as Steve jumps, turning angry eyes brimming with tears to Steve.
“My Dad’s dead, Steve,” Danny says, defeated, so obviously sad Steve doesn’t know what to do.
The wave of grief that flows over Steve threatens to drown him, but something in Danny’s eyes tells him not to act on it, not to anything that could destroy them forever. He turns his eyes back to the road, and guns the engine.
“I’m sorry, Danny,” is all he says, his mouth dry and his heart breaking once more.
;;
“So, I’ll be off tomorrow morning. Funeral’s Friday.” Danny drops a vacation request on top of the papers on Steve’s desk, avoiding his eyes as he crosses his arms, as if he’s worried Steve is going to tell him he can’t go.
Steve swallows hard, looks down at the sheet of paper, Danny’s messy scrawl all over it, and he nods absent-mindedly.
“Of course, Danny. You take as long as you need.”
“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” Steve flicks his eyes up, meeting Danny’s for a split second, something like understanding passing between the two of them. Steve gets it, gets it more than anyone else they know, and Danny is aware of it.
“Do you want me to,” Steve pauses, unsure of how to phrase this right. Biting the bullet always tends to make Danny defensive, and Steve doesn’t want him to think it’s pity, either. “I can come along. If you want.”
Danny parts his lips, looking for all he’s worth, honestly surprised. Of all his amazing detective skills, Danny can be the most oblivious when it comes to himself, and to Steve. It’s nothing new, and yet Danny hasn’t caught on, hasn’t told Steve to back off, hasn’t done anything.
“Thanks. I’ll be okay, though.”
Steve’s not actually taken aback by this answer, even if it still makes his stomach bottom out. He lifts his chin and nods curtly, and Danny steps out of Steve’s office without another word, leaving too many hanging in the air.
;;
The storm breaks out an hour before Danny’s plane is scheduled to leave. Steve doesn’t think much of it at first, another rainstorm that will die down quickly, leaving a freshness in the air in its wake. Steve doesn’t allow himself to worry too much about Danny, alone in the airport.
Or, well. He tries not to allow himself to worry too much, but he can’t help it. It’s a curse, Danny under his skin in this way, from day one, from the very moment they met, he’s crawled his way inside Steve, took hold, and since then has refused to let go.
And this feels too much like Danny tearing himself away from Steve. It’s stupid, because Steve understands the need for some space for Danny to clear his head, he understands better than anyone else, but he still wants to be there for Danny like Danny was there for him.
And the rain, the rain doesn’t let up, fits his mood, fits his thoughts, and probably Danny’s, too.
;;
Steve’s phone rings a few hours later, the ringtone particular, and making him almost crawl out of his skin.
“Danny?” He asks when he picks up, suddenly worried.
“I’m on my way to yours.”
Danny sounds ten sorts of broken, and Steve’s heart breaks all over again. “What happened?”
“A storm happened, Steven, did you not realize, or is it localized on Honolulu Airport, because that would be just my luck.”
“No, the storm is everywhere. Was your flight cancelled?” Steve feels like an idiot. of course Danny’s flight was cancelled, otherwise he’d be on his way to Newark, wouldn’t he? Danny sighs, sounding lost.
“Yes. Steve -”
Steve cuts him off before he can say anything else. “We’ll talk when you get here, Danny, okay? I’m sorry your flight got cancelled.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Danny doesn’t add anything else, hanging up then, and Steve imagines him throwing his phone on the passenger seat of the Camaro, imagines his white-knuckled fingers curling around the steering wheel as he fights against the elements on his way to Steve’s.
Steve keeps on thinking about this, about Danny driving safely under the rain, and he settles under his porch, letting the salty, wet wind roll past him as he crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing his upper arms. Hawai’i, in a rainstorm, is cold, but Steve is unwilling to go back inside, miss Danny coming in.
He’s a mess, Danny is, and Steve is more than ready to take some of the burden and the pain, carry it along with his own, because Danny has been taking so much of his own burden, it only seems fair for him to do this, to be there for Danny, a solid as he can be. He doubts it’ll ever be enough, but that’s all he can do.
He stays there until the Camaro shows up into his driveway, the rain battering it hard. Danny parks but doesn’t move, a faint shape behind the wheel. Steve takes a step forward, his toes getting wet in his flip-flops. Danny still doesn’t move, and Steve wants to see his expression, if he’s feeling dejected, sad, angry, frustrated. Steve has no idea what to do.
When Danny opens the car door and step out, he still stays close to the Camaro, looking at Steve as rain soaks him through, making his hair go limp over his forehead, into his eyes. He looks so beautiful, right in that moment, that Steve doesn’t know if he’s still breathing.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Danny yells into the rain, shrugging against it, looking at Steve with all the pain in the world.
Steve can’t take it any more, and he’s going down the steps and crossing the space between the house and Danny in a second, suddenly drenched to the bone just like Danny who’s got hair in his eyes and visible tear tracks down his cheeks despite the rain. And Steve closes the gap, frames Danny’s face with cold hands, fingers digging in the skin as he leans in and kisses Danny, putting all his words in the action, moaning when Danny surges up against him, like electrified, kissing back with his fingers in Steve’s hair and desperate sounds escaping him.
They kiss into the rain, hot and cold, entirely insane and unavoidable, and Steve presses Danny into the side of the car, holds him there as one of his hands travels along Danny’s side, his rain-soaked shirt clinging to his skin. He pulls away when he feels like he’s got no other choice and rests his forehead against Danny’s, who’s looking back at him with hooded, sad eyes.
“You know what? I won’t even ask. Because, seriously, fucking finally.”
Steve could laugh. Something hysterical bubbles up his throat, but he forces it down, keeping it as tame as a smile. “You got to work on the signals you send, in that case.”
Danny lets out a shaky breath, like he wants to laugh, but then he closes his eyes, looks away. “I can’t - I can’t miss my Dad’s funeral, Steve.”
“You won’t. The rain will let up, and we can get tickets in the morning.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’m coming with you.”
Danny turns his head towards Steve again, but Steve is ready for a fight if needs be. He’s not leaving Danny to go on his own, with or without Danny’s consent. But Danny just breathes out and sags against Steve, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.
“Okay.”