Months and miles from dreams - 3/7 - NC-17 - AU
Chapter 3, let me know allllll your thoughts. My love to the people that helped me ♥.
Part One
Part Two
May 2007
Steve isn’t sure if he should be relieved or scared that there is light coming from inside Williams’ at eleven at night on a Saturday. He fingers the new scar on the side of his jaw as he contemplates turning on his heel now and going back to the airport, going back to California, pretending he wasn’t granted leave, pretending he never came here.
No. Fuck, no, he won’t be a coward again. He’s back in New Jersey, drawn by a lot of unsaid things and hidden feelings that he just has a few days to act on. It’s stupid and Danny has probably moved on, maybe he’s in a relationship now, maybe that’s why there are lights inside, he’s with him, with her, having dinner in the middle of the boxing ring. Maybe. But if Steve hasn’t managed to move on, maybe Danny hasn’t either, and the sliver of possibility is what makes Steve step inside the gym.
Of all the things he expects to see, this isn’t it, the scene in front of him is so far away from it he can barely believe he’s not dreaming, or maybe he’s stumbled upon some kind of parallel universe - there were a lot of Doctor Who episodes to watch on the plane. This looks too real, though, it looks way too much like Danny sitting in on a meeting between two men exchanging what seems to be guns against money.
He’s frozen in place, listening to the conversation, and it’s one of those deals he has seen way too many times, but never, never in a million years did he think it could happen here, in Danny’s gym. Steve never thought Danny would let it happen.
The door slams behind Steve and he drops his duffel in surprise, the loud sounds echoing in the silence of the gym, and all three men turn to him, the one with the money only needing a second to recover before he’s pointing a gun at Steve. Steve’s eyes go from the two strangers to the gun to Danny, who’s looking at him with his mouth hanging open.
“What the -” the first guy, the one with the bag of apparently police standard guns at his feet speaks first, his eyes widening behind his thick-rimmed glasses. The other guy points the gun he’s holding at him for a second before cutting him off.
“Did you call the cops on me? You fuckin’ bastard, you’re going down with me!”
The guy with the gun seems alarmed, but Steve feels suddenly much calmer than he did five minutes ago. This is a situation he knows, that he can deal with. And there is plenty of cover in the gym if the man decides to shoot. The fact that Steve is alone and virtually unarmed should tell him a lot about whether or not he’s police, but Steve guesses he’s not the smartest crayon in the box. The man turns back to Steve, the hand holding the gun trembling a little - he’s not using a secondary support, either. He’s not used to firearms.
“Who are you?”
Steve holds up his hands, looking over at Danny, hoping for something from him, but he’s still looking perfectly taken aback, a cigarette burning away at his feet. He must have dropped it when Steve walked in.
“I’m not a cop, I swear, I’m just - I was hoping to see Danny. Hi.”
Danny seems to shake himself out of his trance when Steve says his name, and he reaches over, curling a hand around the man’s wrist, the one holding the gun, and he lowers it slowly, shaking his head.
“Louie, don’t. He’s - he’s right. I mean, I know him.”
“Danny, we can’t have witnesses -”
“But we can have dead bodies? Louie, come on. I’ll take care of it, okay? You two, go finish this deal out back.”
Louie narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment before the other guy stalks away and he follows, grabbing the bag at his feet.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Steve feels a smile come over his lips as Danny gives him a critical look, but he sobers up when Danny suddenly walks up to him.
“Danny, I -”
Danny cuts him off with a right hook, straight to the jaw, his knuckles hitting Steve’s jawbone just right, making the whole side of his face hurt. Steve cups his jaw as Danny pushes him backward, making him stumble a little.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare tell me you’re sorry, Steve. I don’t want to hear it,” Danny looks ready to punch Steve again, hand closed in a fist, his face a picture of frustration. “What I would like to hear, though, is why? Why do you even come back? Are you going to tell me you didn’t handle it right again? Fuck’s sake, Steve, I don’t get it. I thought - we had fun. And then you fuck off and disappear for months and now what, huh? Now what?”
“I can explain.”
Fuck, Steve’s jaw hurts. He guesses he deserved that one.
“Yeah? You can explain, really? I’m listening. I reserve the right to punch you again if it’s not satisfying, though.”
Steve’s eyes move to the door the two guys from earlier went through, his lips twisted in a grimace. He knows he’s given himself no choice now, coming back again, he has to own up and tell Danny who he is, what he does. He knew when he got on the plane already, but no amount of pep talk to himself could prepare him enough.
“Maybe we should - go somewhere else?”
“They’re gone already. Back door. If you think they’d stick around then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”
Steve clenches his jaw at the jab, making the pain flare up. He doesn’t want to be angry, not when he understands exactly why Danny is furious at him. It doesn’t make any of this easier, though, as Steve tries his best to contain his own feelings against the onslaught of Danny’s.
“So? You said you can explain.”
“I - I’m in the Navy, Danny.”
“You’re in the Navy,” Danny stops and blinks, eyes moving from Steve’s face to his duffel and back. He looks absolutely bewildered. “You’re military. Is that what you’ve not been telling me? Is that your big, bad secret? That you’re in the Navy? I thought. I thought, I don’t know, maybe he’s got this terrible illness that forces him to leave every now and again, or maybe, maybe he’s like, an outlaw that can’t stay in one place too long, has to move to avoid getting arrested by Interpol or something. Maybe you could be fucking James Bond. I’d understand that. But your reason is that you’re a soldier?”
Steve nods, taking a step back when he sees Danny’s fists clench. He doesn’t want to be punched again. And despite Danny’s words sounding ridiculous, Steve can’t help but feel like an idiot.
“I’m a Navy SEAL. And I haven’t told you because the first time, I didn’t think I would be coming back so it didn’t matter, and the second time, well - the less you knew the better, considering what happened between us.”
“What do you mean, the less I knew the better? Am I in danger for knowing you? Have you got the Russian mob running after you and they’ll kidnap me to get to you?”
“No, no, God, you’re overdramatic. If you don’t know what I am and what I do, then you can’t tell anyone you’re fucking a soldier. And said soldier won’t get kicked out.”
“Oh, I see. So it wasn’t to protect me, it was to protect you. Nice, very nice. I’m impressed.”
Danny crosses his arms over his chest, making Steve want to fall on his knees and beg, beg for forgiveness. And he would, he most definitely would, but then Danny speaks up again.
“Are you here to arrest me and my uncle?”
Steve blinks, opening his mouth in surprise. Of all the things Danny could have said about this - Steve had been selfish and arrogant and just a plain bastard really - he did not think that would come out.
“What? No! God, no, if there is anything going on there it’s NJPD’s business, not mine. I’m on leave. I came to see you because I’ve got time off. Like the last two times.”
Against all odds, Danny chuckles at that. Steve feels tension bleed out of him a little, but he knows he’s far from being forgiven. He allows his eyes to travel around Danny’s face, taking in the little changes since the last time he was here. Danny’s got some facial hair that he used to shave and his hair is longer, curling at the back of his head, gelled in place, and Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and mess it all up.
“So what, I’m your little bit of rough on the side?”
Steve huffs out a laugh, looking down and scratching the back of his neck, feeling a little sheepish. Danny is a lot more things that Steve can’t really talk about, even here and now, especially here and now. Maybe later. He has a hard time believing Danny would be forgiving this easily.
“You could say that.”
It takes Danny a while to reply, but when he does, he looks serious again.
“I’m glad you think I’m worth spending time in New Jersey for when you’ve got leave, Steve, really, I’m flattered. But you know what? I’m not going through this again. So go ahead and go find someone else to fuck and leave.”
“Danny, please.”
“No. You should go, before I punch you again. And I really will, you have no idea how much I want to.”
Steve holds his hands up again, taking a step back.
“Fine. I’m staying at the Sheraton, room 809. If you ever, I don’t know. Change your mind, or want to talk. I’m here a week.”
“Just go, Steve.”
Steve goes.
---
Steve is absolutely not dancing in the shower when there’s a banging on the door, certainly not, he has gone through torture and nothing would make him admit that he was. What he most certainly does, though, upon hearing someone at the door, is rush out of the shower, not even bothering to turn it off, or to grab a towel to protect his dignity.
Because the thing is, there can only be one person on the other side. Steve hasn’t ordered any room service, there is the ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle, and only one person knows where he’s staying this time around.
So it can only be Danny. And indeed, when Steve opens the door, shampoo sliding in his eyes and making him wince, it is Danny there, wearing jeans and a white baseball shirt and looking stupidly gorgeous without even making an effort. Plus, Steve can smell him from where he stands on the other side of the door, the wooden pane the only thing protecting Steve from indecently flashing the whole corridor. It’s just past 10am, which means it took nine hours for Danny to change his mind.
Steve bites the inside of his lip as Danny lets his eyes travel over what he can see of Steve’s body, dripping wet and slippery with soap and shampoo. Steve is not beyond using his body to help himself when needed.
“Hi, Danny. Do you want to come in?”
“I’m not sure.”
Steve opens the door a fraction wider, trying hard not to smirk when he watches Danny blink a few times rapidly. He leans on the doorframe with one arm, the other still holding onto the door handle, meaning that if Danny does decide he wants to come in, he’s going to have to slide close to Steve to get past him. Steve’s already getting hard at having Danny just this far away from him.
“Danny, I really don’t feel like flashing the entire hallway. So, come in, and say whatever it is you gotta say.”
And then we can move on - into bed, he adds silently. Danny seems to hesitate, brushing a finger along his cheek before looking up, the tip of his ears turning red. He was shamelessly staring at Steve, but to be honest Steve is ready to just open his arms and allow Danny to get his fill if that gets him to forget about how angry he is at Steve.
Finally, Danny takes one, two, three steps forward, right into Steve’s space, before he plasters himself to the wall, allowing Steve to push the door close. He lifts an angry finger at Steve, his eyes narrowed.
“You, you are a menace. I came here because I want answers, because I need answers, and because I want you to apologize the fuck out, too, I want you to grovel and beg, and what are you doing? Opening the door, all naked and wet? What the hell is the matter with you, do you not have any manners, were you raised by apes?”
Steve shrugs, wiping shampoo out of his left eye and ignoring the burning sting as manfully as he can. He can feel the soap suds running down his back, collecting in the curve of his ass, and now he’s trying to think of an excuse to turn around and show Danny.
“I grew up on Hawai’i.”
“Is that supposed to be an explanation? Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter, I don’t care, I really don’t, I did not drive here through morning rush hour traffic, which by the way I hate, to be confronted by a naked, wet, Navy fucking SEAL who could probably kill me with his little finger in about eight different ways - seriously, you were never going to tell me? I thought you had a disease, Steven. I thought you had a freaking wife and three kids hidden away somewhere. You know bigamy is illegal in the United States, I looked that up as well.”
“I don’t have a wife and three kids, Danny. Just you.”
Danny’s mouth flaps open and shut a few times, his hands frozen in mid-air, just for a second, before his arms start flailing wildly again.
“Just me? Just me! Jesus Christ, that’s not fair! You’re not allowed to say stuff like that when you’re all - and I can’t - fuck.”
Steve kinks an eyebrow up as he puts his hands on his hips, waiting for Danny to continue. He watches Danny look him up and down again, lips curled into a half snarl, hands closing into fists before two warm, dry palms are pressing into his chest, pushing him back toward the bathroom.
“You’re so infuriating, you know that? Of course you know that, you get off on knowing that, what you do to me, I swear to God. I oughta leave, get out, leave you the fuck alone, but God knows I can’t.”
The music Steve was listening to is still blaring in the bathroom, from the CD player the hotel provided him with, but Steve barely hears it when Danny pushes him back inside the shower stall, inserting himself in the small space, right against Steve, his shirt turning translucent in two seconds, dark nipples poking through that Steve grazes his thumbs against. Danny lets out a small keening noise as he forces Steve to turn around, pulls his head back and run his fingers through his hair, rinsing the shampoo out of Steve’s hair with gentle touches.
Steve has to brace his hands on the tiled wall of the shower, feeling his knees tremble a little, his cock already aching, just through a single, simple touch from Danny. He’s denied himself the touch of anyone else but himself for the past nine months and now, now Danny’s plastered against his back, fully clothed but drenched to the bone anyway, and Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to take any step towards Danny or if he has to wait.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this with a man that listens to Otis Redding in his spare time, apparently completely unironically.”
“He’s the king of soul, Danny. Have some respect.”
Steve’s voice sounds rough and heavy already, rumbling up from his chest as he hears Danny snort behind him. He opens his mouth to the spray, swallowing some and spitting the rest, unable to stop from arching back into Danny’s chest when he feels Danny’s hand slide down from the back of his head to his shoulder-blades, rubbing away the soap suds.
“Respect? Oh, I got respect; I got respect for The Boss, but this guy? Honestly, Steve, if you’re so worried about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, you should maybe not be listening to Try A Little Tenderness.”
There’s no steam or anger behind the words and Danny’s hands are still sliding over his skin, fingers pressing and massaging all his sore points, as if drawn by magnets. Steve lets out a groan, forming a fist against the tiles as he resists reaching down and touching himself. He wants Danny’s hands, not his own anymore.
“Hey, help me get this shirt off.”
Steve is barely holding himself together when he turns around, his fingers closing around the hem of Danny’s shirt, his eyes roaming all over Danny’s face, his messy hair falling over his forehead and eyes. Danny’s quiet and obedient when Steve pulls at his shirt, letting it fall to the bottom of the shower, and fuck; Steve wants to kiss Danny so fucking much he has to look away.
These Arms Of Mine is the next song on the Otis Redding CD playing in the background and Steve would chuckle at how cliché this all is, the music, the shower, the reunion, but then he’s actually burning inside out, all of Danny’s touches setting his skin on fire. Steve looks at Danny’s fingers trailing from his ribs up to his collarbone and then back down, stopping at his nipple. Steve’s visibly restraining himself from pulling Danny to him.
“I think you’re all clean now.”
Steve swallows, looking along Danny’s arms and back to his broad, solid chest. He’s got even more hair than last time, golden and curling in the damp heat of the shower, and Steve aches all over again to press his face into it, to wake up and roll over and bury his nose between Danny’s pecs, inhale his scent, taste him. He lets his gaze wander downwards, that big chest tapering off into that tiny waist, hipbones that disappear beneath clinging wet jeans. Steve bites his lip again at the prominent bulge between Danny’s legs, eyes darting back up to Danny’s face, hoping he can see the silent begging for permission.
It feels like a game, which one of them will manage to hold out the longest, which one of them will give in and kiss the other first. After all, Steve is completely naked, and so hard his cock could cut through steel, and he’s opening Danny’s jeans now, so it’s not like the two of them are really dancing around the issue right now, but they’ve yet to kiss and Steve is going to lose his mind.
Steve can’t help but laugh when Danny steps out of his sneakers, leaving them by his feet as he toes off his drenched socks as well. Steve makes a frustrated noise, Danny’s jeans buttons resisting his assault on them.
“Stay still for a second.”
Steve growls right into Danny’s ear, resisting the urge to bite at his earlobe but not resisting brushing his nose along the outside of it, burying it into Danny’s wet hair, smelling of citrus and watermelon. Finally he gets Danny’s jeans open but he barely manages to peel them down to mid-thighs before they resist, sticking to Danny’s skin, the small space all but inappropriate for this.
“We need to -”
“Oh, leave it, for a super soldier you’re such a klutz.”
Danny gets rid of his jeans with hands and feet in a few easy, efficient moves, letting the material pool at his ankles. He’s still wearing underwear, but the boxers are white and soaked through, clinging to the outline of Danny’s hard cock, making Steve groan when he looks down between their bodies. Still no kiss yet but Steve is dying to get on his knees and press his face against it, peel Danny’s underwear off and take him in his mouth, his throat. He wants to swallow him down; he wants his head bouncing off the tiles as Danny fucks his face.
He looks back up into Danny’s eyes, blinking water from his eyelashes once before Danny’s crowding him further into the shower, nudging the pile of his clothes to one side with his foot. He grabs each of Steve’s wrists and presses his arms back against the wall, pinning him there as he stretches up on his toes and bites at Steve’s lips, holding the bottom one between his teeth as he lowers himself again, pulling Steve’s head down with him. Steve wants to say Danny could’ve just asked him to bend his neck, but the words die in his throat, forced back by Danny’s tongue as finally, finally they’re kissing.
His head spins as he takes control of the kiss, growling against Danny’s lips and pushing against his hands, wanting to touch him so badly he doesn’t even care about playing rough anymore. But Danny gives back just as hard, flexing his arms and tightening his fingers around Steve’s wrists, biting Steve’s lip again before pulling back, panting into Steve’s mouth.
“Gonna let go, Danny?”
“Hm, dunno, not sure you deserve it. Can’t you use some ninja SEAL skills to get me to let go anyway?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“You tell me, it’s not my day job.”
“Why are we talking?”
Danny shrugs, but doesn’t loosen his grip, sucking a kiss on the edge of Steve’s jaw and then moving down his neck, biting his collar bone. Steve writhes a little, trying to pull away and press closer at the same time, wanting his hands on Danny yet enjoying the restraint, the demonstration of Danny’s strength. He cants his hips forward, rubbing the head of his cock against Danny’s through the wet fabric, and it wouldn’t take much more than this to get him off, but he wants more, so much more.
Danny groans, and with that he’s releasing Steve’s wrists, moving his hands along Steve’s chest, up to his nipples and then down along his ribs, around his hips, groping at his ass for a moment. Steve’s eyes fall closed and fuck it, a second later he’s on his knees and there’s a sneaker digging in his calf and not enough space at all but the way Danny moans makes it all worth it when Steve mouths at his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He can feel Danny’s muscles tighten under his palm as he flattens it against Danny’s stomach, pushing him against the tiles when he bites into the waistband of Danny’s underwear and uses both teeth and his free hand to pull it down.
“Fuck, Steve, Jesus, wasn’t -”
Steve stops, letting go of the boxers when they’re rolled down mid-thigh.
“Wasn’t what?”
His voice is rough and growly, and it almost hurts to talk. Danny’s eyes are so fucking dark they almost don’t look blue anymore when Steve looks up.
“Wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Supposed to make you lose control.”
“You can fuck me later. How’s that for losing control?”
He licks at the head of Danny’s cock, unable to stop himself from groaning at Danny’s taste. Fuck, he’s missed it. Danny lets out a choked sound above him, hands falling to Steve’s shoulders while Steve takes more of him into his mouth, tugging Danny’s underwear down to his ankles as he goes. Steve bobs his head back and forth a couple of times then pulls off, licking his lips and looking up at Danny, watching him pant open-mouthed, water running down his chest, running along the lines of his hipbones. He looks glorious.
“Who says I’m in control anyway?”
Steve runs his hands up the backs of Danny’s legs, splaying his fingers out over Danny’s butt cheeks and pulling him in as he gets Danny back in his mouth. He shivers when Danny hits the back of his throat, swallowing reflexively and tightening his grip on Danny’s ass when he tries to pull back.
“Steve, fuck.”
Steve just swallows again, ignoring the way his eyes sting at the corners, breathing hard through his nose, buried in the curls at the base of Danny’s cock. The timely, tiny thrusts that Danny is obviously trying to reign in make Steve start to move again, using long, slow moves to allow him to curl his tongue around Danny’s erection, flicking the tip of it on the upstroke.
Danny lets out a guttural noise, coming from his stomach, Steve can feel it, and his cock slips out of Steve’s mouth when he falls on his knees as well, not wasting a minute grabbing Steve by the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss, his free hand wrapping around both their dicks. Steve lets out a high-pitched keening noise he’s never heard come out of his mouth before, the silky hot feel of Danny against him and the tight hold he’s keeping them both in sending Steve’s mind reeling.
He bites at Danny’s neck, unconcerned about leaving marks and bruises and scars, wanting to see himself all over Danny’s body when they’re finished. He digs his fingers into Danny’s shoulder muscle, wanting bruises so deep he can take a fingerprint off Danny’s skin later, in the morning, when he no doubt wakes up before Danny and gets to watch him sleep for a while. He’s missed it; he’s missed it so fucking much.
Danny grunts and pants and moans and makes all those little noises that Steve keeps on a loop in his head when he jerks off, the ones that make his stomach clench and his dick harder than anyone’s ever made him. Steve shivers when Danny swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, hips bucking forward to chase more of that feeling, imagining himself buried deep in Danny’s ass, how tight and hot he is around him.
“Close, babe?”
Steve can only nod frantically, almost head-butting Danny in the process. His knees are going numb from the hard floor of the shower and the water falling over them is quickly turning colder, but none of it matters, because Danny’s lips are searing hot over Steve’s collarbones and neck, his hand is burning through Steve where it’s sliding up and down both their cocks with a steady rhythm, and the lukewarm water is a welcome contrast against Steve’s feverishly hot skin.
He comes with a cry, Danny’s teeth sinking into his neck as he tilts his head back and feels himself spinning completely out of control, shaking into Danny’s arms. He could cry at the relief of having Danny like this, of having Danny make him come like this. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears he can’t even hear the music anymore, and he doesn’t really care about it as he trails kisses along Danny’s shoulder, biting his earlobe lightly.
“C’mon, Danny, come on, come on come on c’mon!”
Steve whispers the words like a chant in Danny’s ear, bringing his own hand up and closing it tight around Danny’s, quickening the pace as Danny whimpers and groans and bites until he goes still and comes all over their joined hands, loud pants heaving out of his chest. He falls over, leaning on Steve heavily, who feels all too happy about wrapping his arms around Danny, fingers tracing patterns like the drops of water over Danny’s back.
“Jesus.”
“Mhhmm.”
“Water’s cold.”
Steve reaches up and turns it off but keeps the shower stall closed for now, not willing to let go of the steam inside just yet. He’s not quite sure he’s able to stand up.
“You said yesterday - you got a week.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I got a week and then it’s back to base.”
“Okay. You good with plans? Because I have a few.”
Steve brushes hair off Danny’s forehead, looking down into his eyes with warmth he’s barely ever shown anyone outside his family. Danny looks comfy here, fitting right in Steve’s arms, in a way that should be alarming but that, right now, is only reassuring.
“I’m good with plans.”
“Good. First part of first plan is for us to get out of here and straight into bed. I hear the Sheraton’s beds are extremely comfy.”
---
Monday morning sees Steve wandering around Danny’s small apartment’s kitchen barefoot and his hair still sleep-mussed, wearing only sweatpants that still smell like Danny, the ones Danny borrowed after all his clothes got drenched in the shower the day before.
Head in the fridge, Steve grabs the eggs and puts them aside on the counter, all the while thinking he hasn’t planned on this happening at all. He thought most of Danny’s plans revolved around the two of them in bed, but Steve hadn’t thought it’d be Danny’s bed, only to find himself and his duffel dragged out of his hotel room late Sunday evening, straight into Danny’s car and to his apartment.
Danny, apparently, sleeps much better in his own bed than anywhere else. He also snores less, with is a bonus point for Steve, he will not deny it.
This is how Steve ends up in Danny’s apartment on Monday morning, going through cupboards as quietly as he can, collecting the ingredients for the only breakfast food he can produce fairly successfully. He works up a batter quickly once he gets everything he needs, still keeping an ear out for any noise shaped like a grumpy, sleepy small blond.
Steve sets himself to work, whistling Respect out of tune as he waits for the pan to heat up before lobbing some pancake batter on it, and, okay, Steve’s not an artist or anything but this one looks amazingly like the Venus de Milo. He starts trying to associate paintings and sculptures with every one of the pancakes he makes, all the while keeping them as golden and fluffy as he can - just like his mother used to make them.
Steve has time to cook half the batter and prepare a strong coffee before Danny wanders in, though, his hair sticking out in the most ridiculous, endearing way, and Steve licks sugar off his finger before pushing strands away from Danny’s forehead, who seems to be following the smell of coffee on auto-pilot. He pours himself a cup and wraps his hands around it, leaning his hip against the counter, narrowing his eyes for a second before pressing his cheek against Steve’s arm, looking at the pan.
“You’re making pancakes.”
“Um, yes. You don’t like pancakes?”
“Oh, I love pancakes, I just can’t remember when we managed to get to Vegas and get hitched. We have to be married, right? Because you’re making pancakes. For breakfast. Fuck, they smell nice.”
Steve motions for the plate by his other side, a smile playing on his lips at the slightly tickly feeling of Danny’s stubble against his bare skin.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember our wedding. It was beautiful, Danny.”
Danny chuckles as he pulls away, grabbing a plate for himself and loading a few pancakes onto it, stealing the maple syrup from the counter along with it.
“Wait, was it that time you wore that blue ruffled shirt? It matched my eyes perfectly!”
Danny talks around a mouthful of pancakes, and Steve turns around when he’s done cooking the last one, popping it on top of the pile before putting the pan and the spatula in the sink for future washing.
“Now you’re making it sound like we got married in the 70’s. I was born in the 70’s, Danny.”
“So was I, so what? If you can’t recognize the fashion excellence that is the ruffled shirt, babe, I might have to file for divorce.”
Steve just sighs dramatically as he grabs a stack of pancakes for himself, covering them with just enough sugar not to make him feel guilty. They eat in silence for a while, exchanging smiles over their food and coffees, Steve refraining from saying all those stupid things he’s having a hard time allowing himself to feel, how he feels comfortable and safe and like he belongs, when he’s with Danny. Because it’s ridiculous to feel this way, it’s stupid and crazy when technically they’ve only spent a week and a half together.
But the stretches of time between each meeting makes seeing Danny again more interesting and investing and powerful, in a way Steve cannot explain. Danny’s like a drug, an addiction that is in no way healthier than coke, but somehow easier to hide.
“So. I’m impressed. I just thought I’d say that, because you might think my silence means I’m ungrateful. I thought soldiers only ate ration packs and couldn’t cook for shit?”
“One, you have terrible misconceptions about soldiers. Two, you do realize I wasn’t born a Navy SEAL, right? My mom taught me how to cook these.”
“You’ll have to congratulate her for me, they’re really nice. No, they’re better than nice; they’re actual little pieces of Heaven, in my mouth.”
Steve smiles, a little too quick and a little too fake, because Danny picks up on it right away, his fork midway to his mouth.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just. She died when I was fifteen.”
Danny’s face falls into a grimace, one of those that tells Steve family, for Danny, is a lot more of a unit and a lot more important than it’s ever been for the McGarretts after Steve’s mother died. After all, his father had been all too eager to ship him and Mary-Ann away.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Danny.”
Danny nods, and Steve can only be thankful that Danny’s not one of those kind of contrite, trying to be compassionate people, like those family members that came for the funeral and that Steve had never met before. No, Danny just finishes his pancakes and then brings his empty plate to the sink, before wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, kissing the back of Steve’s neck with sticky lips.
“Thanks for the pancakes.”
---
Steve wakes up in the middle of Wednesday night with a start, the sheets cold next to him. He’s alone in bed but he can hear someone else breathing in the room, and he’s not sure whether to feel worried or relieved by this fact, his brain sleep-muddled. He sits up, looks around, only to find Danny there, wearing boxers, sitting on the ground under the window and looking at something that looks suspiciously like Steve’s passport. The official one.
“Steve J. McGarrett. What does the J. stand for?”
Danny doesn’t look up as he speaks, his eyes still fixated on the passport in his hands, looking small, almost fragile, and Steve wonders why he’s scared Danny will rip it to pieces.
“James.”
“You realize I didn’t know your last name before now? McGarrett.”
Steve likes the way his name sounds on Danny’s tongue, rough and his accent curling around the vowels.
“Danny, come back to bed.”
“Tell me everything. Tell me everything you’ve not been telling me this past year and a half. Tell me where you’ve been, Steve.”
“I - it’s classified. I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me, Steve.”
Danny sounds angry, tired, and Steve wonders if he had any sleep at all. It’s like he’s been containing his anger for a few days, too busy rediscovering Steve’s body and being comfortable, but it’s all rushing back now. Steve takes a deep, harsh breath, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t have the same amount of guilt he used to feel oppressing him right now but as he sifts through what he can and can’t say, he can feel it weigh on his shoulders a little.
“Lieutenant Steven James McGarrett, Team SEAL 7, stationed at Coronado, operating worldwide. I’m a weapons specialist and I can pilot planes and helicopters, I am a professional swimmer, diver, and free diver. I can also operate a tank if needed. Look, really, if you want to know what I can do, you can just look it up online. It’s not a secret.”
“Funny that, I’d have thought otherwise considering how long it took you to tell me it’s not a secret,” Danny sighs, closing the passport and leaving it by his side before crawling back to the bed, sitting cross-legged on it, in front of Steve. “I just. I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything before.”
“I told you why.”
“Oh, yeah, because you’re a fucking coward and you thought I didn’t know about DADT. Because you were too scared that I was going to go on and blab about this hot Navy guy I’m fucking when he’s in town. I’m sorry to bruise your ego, babe, but I’ve not been exactly beaming with pride about this.”
Steve frowns a little - not hurt, just confused.
“You’re in the closet?”
“No, fuck, that’s not my point, could you be more obtuse? No, I mean, how proud can I be that I’ve let myself be fucked over by some random guy that ran off without saying goodbye when he was done with me? How gullible and stupid am I to let this happen willingly? And now I know why you left but it doesn’t make anything better, does it? I’m still here and I still let you in my life again, which makes me even more stupid than before, because now I know that this leads nowhere and I know you’ll leave again and so I know I’m just setting myself up for - for something that will not be pleasant.”
Steve tries to think of a good reply to this, Danny’s words, accusations and thoughts wrapping themselves around him and making him feel cold, desperate, the guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks again. He wants to ask - he’s got a million questions at the tip of his tongue but there’s only one that comes out.
“Why did you come to my hotel room, Danny?”
Danny sighs, looking down at his hands, fingers spreads over the bed sheets between the two of them.
“I don’t know. I guess as long as there’s nothing better for me, as long as I’ve got no relationship or anything keeping me away from you, you’ll do.”
“I’ll do?”
Steve’s stomach twists at the words, how dismissive they are but he can hear much more meaning behind them, he can hear just how much of an addiction he is to Danny as well. He can see it in Danny’s eyes, sharply glinting in the moonlit room.
“Yeah. You’ll do.”
Steve takes a deep breath again, reaching out a curling his fingers around Danny’s left wrist.
“Good enough for me.”
He pulls Danny forward by tugging on his wrist, kissing him hard and deep, falling backwards on the bed and taking Danny with him. Danny’s giving back just as good as he’s getting, the kiss this side of violent and bruising but conveying exactly the way they’re feeling, their feelings way too similar in this exact moment. Steve is not about to talk about it as easily as Danny, but he knows he’s in for exactly the same thing as Danny is by coming back to New Jersey again, by seeking Danny again, one more hit before he has to go cold turkey for months.
They’re both setting themselves up for heartbreak, and they both know it.
---
They spend Thursday in the gym, Friday in New York. Danny seems unwilling to let go of Steve now that he knows just how long he’s got, that Steve will have to say goodbye, sooner rather than later. Steve doesn’t mind, he hangs on to Danny and every one of his laughs and smiles, every one of his moans and words. They don’t talk about that night, when Danny’s anger flowed over the two of them, when realizations made the sex rough and hard and full of bites.
Saturday’s a nice day, sunny and bright, and Steve wakes up to the steady sound of punches against bag, low grunts that make him pad to the guest room. He leans against the doorway as he watches Danny exercise - it’s still as enthralling and beautiful as it was the first time around, the first time Steve met Danny. Danny’s not wearing a shirt and sweat is rolling down his back, disappearing in the waistband of his oversized shorts as he punches the bag, precise and quick, a work-out routine he gives classes on at the gym.
Watching Danny like this reminds him of watching Danny with kids around him, mimicking his movements and laughing along with him when they don’t manage something, bowing at the sound of Danny’s clapping when they do manage. Danny’s a natural, with kids, something Steve has never thought he’d be even contemplating in his life, not this young anyway. He can’t help it, though, imagining Danny with kids of his own, imagining Danny with a life that doesn’t include Steve.
He shakes the thoughts away when he realizes Danny is staring at him, an indulgent smile on his lips, his head slightly cocked.
“Are you okay?”
Steve nods, striding forward before sitting on the edge of the single bed.
“Why don’t you turn this room into an actual gym?”
“Because I’ve got enough at work as it is. And I’ll be moving soon anyway, I’m bored of being here.”
“Yeah? Still in Weehawken, or?”
Danny shrugs, biting into the Velcro of his red bag gloves to pull them off, wiping his brow with them once they’re off. He rolls his shoulders and Steve doesn’t miss the wince there, making him narrow his eyes.
“I don’t know. I’d move to New York if I could afford it, but I can’t, so it’s probably going to be here or around here. I’ve not even started looking, I’m just saying, you know? I’d like something else. Maybe something by the water.”
“You should go travel.” When Danny winces again, Steve makes a motion with his index finger to beckon Danny closer. “C’mere, let me see that.”
Danny comes more willingly than Steve expects him to, and when he sits down in between Steve’s calves, with his back to Steve, he’s obviously not trying to pretend he has no idea what’s going on and Steve guesses maybe his shoulder hurts more than his wincing let on. Steve doesn’t have to ask before Danny’s turning slightly, his shoulder inching closer to Steve. It’s that thing they do, that understanding they have. It’d be freaking Steve out if he didn’t enjoy it as much as he does.
“Describe the pain?”
“It’s just a trapped nerve. Where would I go travel?”
Steve moves his fingers along Danny’s skin, pressing in places and noting Danny’s reactions until he’s mapped out the muscles and the tense areas to focus on. He applies pressure on the point that makes Danny hiss and move his shoulder away reflexively, but he relaxes into Steve’s hands after a moment.
“You could go to Asia. You said you’ve never been. Thailand is beautiful. You want to see those Buddhist temples, I promise you. Breathtaking. Vietnam is amazing too. The north of China. Take a backpack and go, you know? It’d be worth it.”
Danny snorts disbelievingly and Steve presses a little harder against the tangle of knotted muscles and nerves in retaliation. Danny howls and Steve grins, feeling only a little sheepish when Danny throws him a dark look.
“Not everybody can just pick up and leave, you know.”
“I’m not talking about forever, Danny. A few weeks, a month maybe? I’m sure your family can survive without you for so long.”
“Hey, let’s not do this, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Talk about my family. Louie. Let’s just not. Please?”
Steve nods, humming softly. He can do that, he can not ask anything further, if only because Danny has not pressed him to reveal anything about his classified memories and knowledge. Danny’s hand curls around his calf, digging in when Steve presses his fingers into Danny’s skin to relieve the pain. He’s still sweaty and Steve’s fingers keep on slipping, but he doesn’t stop, feeling Danny slowly relax.
“You were saying, China. Is there anything else to see in China besides that wall thing, and the food?”
“That wall thing? Thing?”
“What? What do you expect me to say, I’ve never seen the fucking Great Wall, I wouldn’t know if it’s actually as exceptional as people say, for all I know it is three rocks put together!”
“It’s one of the most, if not the most amazing thing ever built by mankind, Danny.”
“Fine, fair enough. So China, tell me more about China then. Don’t - you don’t have to talk about your classified shit, I don’t even want to know. Just. Tell me about it.”
“I’ve been in the province of Hsingan, up north, close to Mongolia. There was this tiny village there, we set up base close to it, and we kinda got friendly with the people? God, Danny, they were so amazing, taught me so much. It doesn’t even make sense, you know, that these people would be so open to us, offer us food and knowledge and smiles and I couldn’t believe it, I was so humbled. They live in this beautiful place and they take such care of it, I felt sick back in California.”
Steve is still massaging Danny’s shoulder lightly as he talks, remembering those men and women and kids, the landscape of mountains and valleys. He’s about lost in the memory of a sunrise tinting the world pink and blue when he feels Danny’s head against his knee and he smiles, halting the movement of his hands.
“Don’t stop. I’m not sleeping.”
“Right. In a minute you’ll be snoring against my leg. How’s the shoulder?”
“Good. I have this ache, though, in the small of my back...”
“Greedy bastard.”
“Hey, blame the Chinese guy who taught you how to give massages. And your impressively long fingers, too. Anyone would be greedy.”
“It wasn’t a Chinese guy, actually, it was an Uzbek, as surprising as that sounds. He was a certified physiotherapist.”
“Hey, you hear that?”
“What?”
“That, that’s the sound of me not caring where the guy who taught you that came from, babe; I just want you to keep doing it.”
Steve smiles at the way Danny’s words are a little slurred, and Steve can see how Danny’s eyes keep on fluttering closed.
“Okay, fine. Shuffle forward a little for me.”
Danny does and Steve slides off the bed, wedging himself in between Danny and the bed, both palms flat on Danny’s shoulders and sliding lower, pressing his thumbs on either side of Danny’s spine, feeling the supple skin and the muscles underneath shift. Danny groan lightly, making Steve’s stomach topple over itself, heat pooling deep in his gut when he pushes the pads of his fingers around the dimples on Danny’s lower back. He doesn’t put too much pressure as he moves his fingers around, his eyes drawn to Danny’s hand by his side, slowly curling into a fist.
Steve leans closer, trapping his hands between their bodies as he opens his mouth over the back of Danny’s shoulder, not quite kissing and not quite biting either, dragging his lips along to Danny’s neck.
“How’s that?” he whispers the words into Danny’s skin, feeling it hot and soft under his fingers and lips, and Danny groans again in answer. “Does it feel good?”
Danny lets out a noise between a growl and the beginning of a sentence that got garbled in his throat, and Steve grins, biting the side of Danny’s neck lightly, sliding his hands around to Danny’s stomach, thumbing Danny’s nipples, dipping his pinkie in Danny’s bellybutton.
“Fucking tease. Now I can’t decide if I want breakfast or sex.”
“Your life is full of tough decisions, Danny.”
Danny arches into Steve, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as he rolls his hips upwards, seeking friction that Steve’s not giving him right now.
“I know, it’s terrible. Fuck. Sex now, food later.”
Steve’s smile grows even bigger as he slips a hand inside Danny’s shorts.
“Good choice, Williams.”
---
“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”
“I’m sure.”
“So when is your next leave?”
“In six to eight months. Depends on where I’m sent and the mission.”
“Okay. Should I expect you to come back, or are you saying goodbye this time because you’re not setting foot in New Jersey ever again?”
Steve almost looks away from Danny there, from the intense look in Danny’s way too blue eyes, but then he squares up to it.
“I can’t -”
“Never mind.”
Danny just nods once, simply, and then looks around his living-room, that room that looks a little too small and a little too big right now, in Steve’s opinion.
“I know this is a stupid question, but. You sure you can’t stay any longer?”
Steve clenches his jaw, looking down at his duffel bag at his feet. He doesn’t want to leave, but it’s not like he’s got a choice. He has a job to do; it’s his duty to protect people, to protect his country.
“Danny, don’t.” Steve wants to sound stronger than he does, his voice breaking a little, and fuck, fuck this. “See, this is why I didn’t say goodbye the other times.”
Steve expects a lot of things in answer to this, but not the punch to his stomach that cuts the air from him as he reels backwards, closer to the bed. Danny looks absolutely fuming.
“You do not get to say that, Steve. You just don’t, okay, you fucking asshole, I can’t believe you’d say something like that. You’re so tough and cold, huh? Good for you, Steve, seriously, good for you.”
Danny grits his teeth and turns around, his hands flailing around him as he keeps on talking, and Steve has to look away from the way Danny’s back looks in the wifebeater he’s wearing.
“How fucking unfair can you be, huh? You come in and out like my life is a bit of property you can visit when you’re off work, and I, like the fucking schmuck I am, let you, and then you say things like that and oh, Jesus, Steve, do you have any idea how much I want to punch you right now?”
“You - already did.”
Danny turns around, pointing a finger in Steve’s face, that Steve has the hardest time not to grab and twist Danny’s hand away from him.
“You deserve much worse. My God, how can someone be so emotionally impaired? Did they train you to be this cold in the army?”
“Navy.”
“Seriously, I will punch you again.”
Steve takes a deep breath, looking into Danny’s eyes, understanding the confusion there but not really getting the other shadows that are swirling in Danny’s eyes. He’s not certain what Danny wants from him.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Danny.”
“I would’ve thought that’s pretty obvious by now, Steve. But if you need me to spell it out for you, then I guess I should just forget it, right?”
Steve opens his hands; helpless and unsure, feeling like the ground is too unstable for him right now, like it’s going to swallow him up. Danny’s eyes are looking straight into his, an anchor Steve isn’t sure he deserves.
“I. I gotta go.”
Steve shoulders his bag and takes one, two steps before Danny grabs his arm and throws him against the wall, plastering himself to Steve’s front. The kiss is forceful and a little violent, the sound of Steve’s duffel hitting the ground next to them wrapping itself around the groan that escapes Steve. He grips Danny’s hips, pulling him closer, impossibly close when he bites on Danny’s lower lip to keep him from pulling away. He pushes feelings in his actions, encircling Danny’s shoulders and waist with his arms, the grabbing turning into hugging, the kissing turning into shared breaths as they rest their foreheads against each other’s.
“I’m sorry, Danny, I don’t -”
“No. Don’t apologize.”
“Okay.”
Steve got more words on the tip of his tongue, things he wants to say, stupid things that would make him feel like a sap and that would resonate wrong through his head. He leans in and kisses Danny again instead of saying anything, this time gently, a goodbye without the words.
Danny pulls away reluctantly, his eyes everywhere but on Steve as Steve grabs his bag again and this time there isn’t anything or anyone to stop him until he’s at the door. He looks back, but Danny’s got his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Steve leaves as silently as he can make it.
Part One
Part Two
May 2007
Steve isn’t sure if he should be relieved or scared that there is light coming from inside Williams’ at eleven at night on a Saturday. He fingers the new scar on the side of his jaw as he contemplates turning on his heel now and going back to the airport, going back to California, pretending he wasn’t granted leave, pretending he never came here.
No. Fuck, no, he won’t be a coward again. He’s back in New Jersey, drawn by a lot of unsaid things and hidden feelings that he just has a few days to act on. It’s stupid and Danny has probably moved on, maybe he’s in a relationship now, maybe that’s why there are lights inside, he’s with him, with her, having dinner in the middle of the boxing ring. Maybe. But if Steve hasn’t managed to move on, maybe Danny hasn’t either, and the sliver of possibility is what makes Steve step inside the gym.
Of all the things he expects to see, this isn’t it, the scene in front of him is so far away from it he can barely believe he’s not dreaming, or maybe he’s stumbled upon some kind of parallel universe - there were a lot of Doctor Who episodes to watch on the plane. This looks too real, though, it looks way too much like Danny sitting in on a meeting between two men exchanging what seems to be guns against money.
He’s frozen in place, listening to the conversation, and it’s one of those deals he has seen way too many times, but never, never in a million years did he think it could happen here, in Danny’s gym. Steve never thought Danny would let it happen.
The door slams behind Steve and he drops his duffel in surprise, the loud sounds echoing in the silence of the gym, and all three men turn to him, the one with the money only needing a second to recover before he’s pointing a gun at Steve. Steve’s eyes go from the two strangers to the gun to Danny, who’s looking at him with his mouth hanging open.
“What the -” the first guy, the one with the bag of apparently police standard guns at his feet speaks first, his eyes widening behind his thick-rimmed glasses. The other guy points the gun he’s holding at him for a second before cutting him off.
“Did you call the cops on me? You fuckin’ bastard, you’re going down with me!”
The guy with the gun seems alarmed, but Steve feels suddenly much calmer than he did five minutes ago. This is a situation he knows, that he can deal with. And there is plenty of cover in the gym if the man decides to shoot. The fact that Steve is alone and virtually unarmed should tell him a lot about whether or not he’s police, but Steve guesses he’s not the smartest crayon in the box. The man turns back to Steve, the hand holding the gun trembling a little - he’s not using a secondary support, either. He’s not used to firearms.
“Who are you?”
Steve holds up his hands, looking over at Danny, hoping for something from him, but he’s still looking perfectly taken aback, a cigarette burning away at his feet. He must have dropped it when Steve walked in.
“I’m not a cop, I swear, I’m just - I was hoping to see Danny. Hi.”
Danny seems to shake himself out of his trance when Steve says his name, and he reaches over, curling a hand around the man’s wrist, the one holding the gun, and he lowers it slowly, shaking his head.
“Louie, don’t. He’s - he’s right. I mean, I know him.”
“Danny, we can’t have witnesses -”
“But we can have dead bodies? Louie, come on. I’ll take care of it, okay? You two, go finish this deal out back.”
Louie narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment before the other guy stalks away and he follows, grabbing the bag at his feet.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Steve feels a smile come over his lips as Danny gives him a critical look, but he sobers up when Danny suddenly walks up to him.
“Danny, I -”
Danny cuts him off with a right hook, straight to the jaw, his knuckles hitting Steve’s jawbone just right, making the whole side of his face hurt. Steve cups his jaw as Danny pushes him backward, making him stumble a little.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare tell me you’re sorry, Steve. I don’t want to hear it,” Danny looks ready to punch Steve again, hand closed in a fist, his face a picture of frustration. “What I would like to hear, though, is why? Why do you even come back? Are you going to tell me you didn’t handle it right again? Fuck’s sake, Steve, I don’t get it. I thought - we had fun. And then you fuck off and disappear for months and now what, huh? Now what?”
“I can explain.”
Fuck, Steve’s jaw hurts. He guesses he deserved that one.
“Yeah? You can explain, really? I’m listening. I reserve the right to punch you again if it’s not satisfying, though.”
Steve’s eyes move to the door the two guys from earlier went through, his lips twisted in a grimace. He knows he’s given himself no choice now, coming back again, he has to own up and tell Danny who he is, what he does. He knew when he got on the plane already, but no amount of pep talk to himself could prepare him enough.
“Maybe we should - go somewhere else?”
“They’re gone already. Back door. If you think they’d stick around then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”
Steve clenches his jaw at the jab, making the pain flare up. He doesn’t want to be angry, not when he understands exactly why Danny is furious at him. It doesn’t make any of this easier, though, as Steve tries his best to contain his own feelings against the onslaught of Danny’s.
“So? You said you can explain.”
“I - I’m in the Navy, Danny.”
“You’re in the Navy,” Danny stops and blinks, eyes moving from Steve’s face to his duffel and back. He looks absolutely bewildered. “You’re military. Is that what you’ve not been telling me? Is that your big, bad secret? That you’re in the Navy? I thought. I thought, I don’t know, maybe he’s got this terrible illness that forces him to leave every now and again, or maybe, maybe he’s like, an outlaw that can’t stay in one place too long, has to move to avoid getting arrested by Interpol or something. Maybe you could be fucking James Bond. I’d understand that. But your reason is that you’re a soldier?”
Steve nods, taking a step back when he sees Danny’s fists clench. He doesn’t want to be punched again. And despite Danny’s words sounding ridiculous, Steve can’t help but feel like an idiot.
“I’m a Navy SEAL. And I haven’t told you because the first time, I didn’t think I would be coming back so it didn’t matter, and the second time, well - the less you knew the better, considering what happened between us.”
“What do you mean, the less I knew the better? Am I in danger for knowing you? Have you got the Russian mob running after you and they’ll kidnap me to get to you?”
“No, no, God, you’re overdramatic. If you don’t know what I am and what I do, then you can’t tell anyone you’re fucking a soldier. And said soldier won’t get kicked out.”
“Oh, I see. So it wasn’t to protect me, it was to protect you. Nice, very nice. I’m impressed.”
Danny crosses his arms over his chest, making Steve want to fall on his knees and beg, beg for forgiveness. And he would, he most definitely would, but then Danny speaks up again.
“Are you here to arrest me and my uncle?”
Steve blinks, opening his mouth in surprise. Of all the things Danny could have said about this - Steve had been selfish and arrogant and just a plain bastard really - he did not think that would come out.
“What? No! God, no, if there is anything going on there it’s NJPD’s business, not mine. I’m on leave. I came to see you because I’ve got time off. Like the last two times.”
Against all odds, Danny chuckles at that. Steve feels tension bleed out of him a little, but he knows he’s far from being forgiven. He allows his eyes to travel around Danny’s face, taking in the little changes since the last time he was here. Danny’s got some facial hair that he used to shave and his hair is longer, curling at the back of his head, gelled in place, and Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and mess it all up.
“So what, I’m your little bit of rough on the side?”
Steve huffs out a laugh, looking down and scratching the back of his neck, feeling a little sheepish. Danny is a lot more things that Steve can’t really talk about, even here and now, especially here and now. Maybe later. He has a hard time believing Danny would be forgiving this easily.
“You could say that.”
It takes Danny a while to reply, but when he does, he looks serious again.
“I’m glad you think I’m worth spending time in New Jersey for when you’ve got leave, Steve, really, I’m flattered. But you know what? I’m not going through this again. So go ahead and go find someone else to fuck and leave.”
“Danny, please.”
“No. You should go, before I punch you again. And I really will, you have no idea how much I want to.”
Steve holds his hands up again, taking a step back.
“Fine. I’m staying at the Sheraton, room 809. If you ever, I don’t know. Change your mind, or want to talk. I’m here a week.”
“Just go, Steve.”
Steve goes.
---
Steve is absolutely not dancing in the shower when there’s a banging on the door, certainly not, he has gone through torture and nothing would make him admit that he was. What he most certainly does, though, upon hearing someone at the door, is rush out of the shower, not even bothering to turn it off, or to grab a towel to protect his dignity.
Because the thing is, there can only be one person on the other side. Steve hasn’t ordered any room service, there is the ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle, and only one person knows where he’s staying this time around.
So it can only be Danny. And indeed, when Steve opens the door, shampoo sliding in his eyes and making him wince, it is Danny there, wearing jeans and a white baseball shirt and looking stupidly gorgeous without even making an effort. Plus, Steve can smell him from where he stands on the other side of the door, the wooden pane the only thing protecting Steve from indecently flashing the whole corridor. It’s just past 10am, which means it took nine hours for Danny to change his mind.
Steve bites the inside of his lip as Danny lets his eyes travel over what he can see of Steve’s body, dripping wet and slippery with soap and shampoo. Steve is not beyond using his body to help himself when needed.
“Hi, Danny. Do you want to come in?”
“I’m not sure.”
Steve opens the door a fraction wider, trying hard not to smirk when he watches Danny blink a few times rapidly. He leans on the doorframe with one arm, the other still holding onto the door handle, meaning that if Danny does decide he wants to come in, he’s going to have to slide close to Steve to get past him. Steve’s already getting hard at having Danny just this far away from him.
“Danny, I really don’t feel like flashing the entire hallway. So, come in, and say whatever it is you gotta say.”
And then we can move on - into bed, he adds silently. Danny seems to hesitate, brushing a finger along his cheek before looking up, the tip of his ears turning red. He was shamelessly staring at Steve, but to be honest Steve is ready to just open his arms and allow Danny to get his fill if that gets him to forget about how angry he is at Steve.
Finally, Danny takes one, two, three steps forward, right into Steve’s space, before he plasters himself to the wall, allowing Steve to push the door close. He lifts an angry finger at Steve, his eyes narrowed.
“You, you are a menace. I came here because I want answers, because I need answers, and because I want you to apologize the fuck out, too, I want you to grovel and beg, and what are you doing? Opening the door, all naked and wet? What the hell is the matter with you, do you not have any manners, were you raised by apes?”
Steve shrugs, wiping shampoo out of his left eye and ignoring the burning sting as manfully as he can. He can feel the soap suds running down his back, collecting in the curve of his ass, and now he’s trying to think of an excuse to turn around and show Danny.
“I grew up on Hawai’i.”
“Is that supposed to be an explanation? Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter, I don’t care, I really don’t, I did not drive here through morning rush hour traffic, which by the way I hate, to be confronted by a naked, wet, Navy fucking SEAL who could probably kill me with his little finger in about eight different ways - seriously, you were never going to tell me? I thought you had a disease, Steven. I thought you had a freaking wife and three kids hidden away somewhere. You know bigamy is illegal in the United States, I looked that up as well.”
“I don’t have a wife and three kids, Danny. Just you.”
Danny’s mouth flaps open and shut a few times, his hands frozen in mid-air, just for a second, before his arms start flailing wildly again.
“Just me? Just me! Jesus Christ, that’s not fair! You’re not allowed to say stuff like that when you’re all - and I can’t - fuck.”
Steve kinks an eyebrow up as he puts his hands on his hips, waiting for Danny to continue. He watches Danny look him up and down again, lips curled into a half snarl, hands closing into fists before two warm, dry palms are pressing into his chest, pushing him back toward the bathroom.
“You’re so infuriating, you know that? Of course you know that, you get off on knowing that, what you do to me, I swear to God. I oughta leave, get out, leave you the fuck alone, but God knows I can’t.”
The music Steve was listening to is still blaring in the bathroom, from the CD player the hotel provided him with, but Steve barely hears it when Danny pushes him back inside the shower stall, inserting himself in the small space, right against Steve, his shirt turning translucent in two seconds, dark nipples poking through that Steve grazes his thumbs against. Danny lets out a small keening noise as he forces Steve to turn around, pulls his head back and run his fingers through his hair, rinsing the shampoo out of Steve’s hair with gentle touches.
Steve has to brace his hands on the tiled wall of the shower, feeling his knees tremble a little, his cock already aching, just through a single, simple touch from Danny. He’s denied himself the touch of anyone else but himself for the past nine months and now, now Danny’s plastered against his back, fully clothed but drenched to the bone anyway, and Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to take any step towards Danny or if he has to wait.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this with a man that listens to Otis Redding in his spare time, apparently completely unironically.”
“He’s the king of soul, Danny. Have some respect.”
Steve’s voice sounds rough and heavy already, rumbling up from his chest as he hears Danny snort behind him. He opens his mouth to the spray, swallowing some and spitting the rest, unable to stop from arching back into Danny’s chest when he feels Danny’s hand slide down from the back of his head to his shoulder-blades, rubbing away the soap suds.
“Respect? Oh, I got respect; I got respect for The Boss, but this guy? Honestly, Steve, if you’re so worried about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, you should maybe not be listening to Try A Little Tenderness.”
There’s no steam or anger behind the words and Danny’s hands are still sliding over his skin, fingers pressing and massaging all his sore points, as if drawn by magnets. Steve lets out a groan, forming a fist against the tiles as he resists reaching down and touching himself. He wants Danny’s hands, not his own anymore.
“Hey, help me get this shirt off.”
Steve is barely holding himself together when he turns around, his fingers closing around the hem of Danny’s shirt, his eyes roaming all over Danny’s face, his messy hair falling over his forehead and eyes. Danny’s quiet and obedient when Steve pulls at his shirt, letting it fall to the bottom of the shower, and fuck; Steve wants to kiss Danny so fucking much he has to look away.
These Arms Of Mine is the next song on the Otis Redding CD playing in the background and Steve would chuckle at how cliché this all is, the music, the shower, the reunion, but then he’s actually burning inside out, all of Danny’s touches setting his skin on fire. Steve looks at Danny’s fingers trailing from his ribs up to his collarbone and then back down, stopping at his nipple. Steve’s visibly restraining himself from pulling Danny to him.
“I think you’re all clean now.”
Steve swallows, looking along Danny’s arms and back to his broad, solid chest. He’s got even more hair than last time, golden and curling in the damp heat of the shower, and Steve aches all over again to press his face into it, to wake up and roll over and bury his nose between Danny’s pecs, inhale his scent, taste him. He lets his gaze wander downwards, that big chest tapering off into that tiny waist, hipbones that disappear beneath clinging wet jeans. Steve bites his lip again at the prominent bulge between Danny’s legs, eyes darting back up to Danny’s face, hoping he can see the silent begging for permission.
It feels like a game, which one of them will manage to hold out the longest, which one of them will give in and kiss the other first. After all, Steve is completely naked, and so hard his cock could cut through steel, and he’s opening Danny’s jeans now, so it’s not like the two of them are really dancing around the issue right now, but they’ve yet to kiss and Steve is going to lose his mind.
Steve can’t help but laugh when Danny steps out of his sneakers, leaving them by his feet as he toes off his drenched socks as well. Steve makes a frustrated noise, Danny’s jeans buttons resisting his assault on them.
“Stay still for a second.”
Steve growls right into Danny’s ear, resisting the urge to bite at his earlobe but not resisting brushing his nose along the outside of it, burying it into Danny’s wet hair, smelling of citrus and watermelon. Finally he gets Danny’s jeans open but he barely manages to peel them down to mid-thighs before they resist, sticking to Danny’s skin, the small space all but inappropriate for this.
“We need to -”
“Oh, leave it, for a super soldier you’re such a klutz.”
Danny gets rid of his jeans with hands and feet in a few easy, efficient moves, letting the material pool at his ankles. He’s still wearing underwear, but the boxers are white and soaked through, clinging to the outline of Danny’s hard cock, making Steve groan when he looks down between their bodies. Still no kiss yet but Steve is dying to get on his knees and press his face against it, peel Danny’s underwear off and take him in his mouth, his throat. He wants to swallow him down; he wants his head bouncing off the tiles as Danny fucks his face.
He looks back up into Danny’s eyes, blinking water from his eyelashes once before Danny’s crowding him further into the shower, nudging the pile of his clothes to one side with his foot. He grabs each of Steve’s wrists and presses his arms back against the wall, pinning him there as he stretches up on his toes and bites at Steve’s lips, holding the bottom one between his teeth as he lowers himself again, pulling Steve’s head down with him. Steve wants to say Danny could’ve just asked him to bend his neck, but the words die in his throat, forced back by Danny’s tongue as finally, finally they’re kissing.
His head spins as he takes control of the kiss, growling against Danny’s lips and pushing against his hands, wanting to touch him so badly he doesn’t even care about playing rough anymore. But Danny gives back just as hard, flexing his arms and tightening his fingers around Steve’s wrists, biting Steve’s lip again before pulling back, panting into Steve’s mouth.
“Gonna let go, Danny?”
“Hm, dunno, not sure you deserve it. Can’t you use some ninja SEAL skills to get me to let go anyway?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“You tell me, it’s not my day job.”
“Why are we talking?”
Danny shrugs, but doesn’t loosen his grip, sucking a kiss on the edge of Steve’s jaw and then moving down his neck, biting his collar bone. Steve writhes a little, trying to pull away and press closer at the same time, wanting his hands on Danny yet enjoying the restraint, the demonstration of Danny’s strength. He cants his hips forward, rubbing the head of his cock against Danny’s through the wet fabric, and it wouldn’t take much more than this to get him off, but he wants more, so much more.
Danny groans, and with that he’s releasing Steve’s wrists, moving his hands along Steve’s chest, up to his nipples and then down along his ribs, around his hips, groping at his ass for a moment. Steve’s eyes fall closed and fuck it, a second later he’s on his knees and there’s a sneaker digging in his calf and not enough space at all but the way Danny moans makes it all worth it when Steve mouths at his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He can feel Danny’s muscles tighten under his palm as he flattens it against Danny’s stomach, pushing him against the tiles when he bites into the waistband of Danny’s underwear and uses both teeth and his free hand to pull it down.
“Fuck, Steve, Jesus, wasn’t -”
Steve stops, letting go of the boxers when they’re rolled down mid-thigh.
“Wasn’t what?”
His voice is rough and growly, and it almost hurts to talk. Danny’s eyes are so fucking dark they almost don’t look blue anymore when Steve looks up.
“Wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Supposed to make you lose control.”
“You can fuck me later. How’s that for losing control?”
He licks at the head of Danny’s cock, unable to stop himself from groaning at Danny’s taste. Fuck, he’s missed it. Danny lets out a choked sound above him, hands falling to Steve’s shoulders while Steve takes more of him into his mouth, tugging Danny’s underwear down to his ankles as he goes. Steve bobs his head back and forth a couple of times then pulls off, licking his lips and looking up at Danny, watching him pant open-mouthed, water running down his chest, running along the lines of his hipbones. He looks glorious.
“Who says I’m in control anyway?”
Steve runs his hands up the backs of Danny’s legs, splaying his fingers out over Danny’s butt cheeks and pulling him in as he gets Danny back in his mouth. He shivers when Danny hits the back of his throat, swallowing reflexively and tightening his grip on Danny’s ass when he tries to pull back.
“Steve, fuck.”
Steve just swallows again, ignoring the way his eyes sting at the corners, breathing hard through his nose, buried in the curls at the base of Danny’s cock. The timely, tiny thrusts that Danny is obviously trying to reign in make Steve start to move again, using long, slow moves to allow him to curl his tongue around Danny’s erection, flicking the tip of it on the upstroke.
Danny lets out a guttural noise, coming from his stomach, Steve can feel it, and his cock slips out of Steve’s mouth when he falls on his knees as well, not wasting a minute grabbing Steve by the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss, his free hand wrapping around both their dicks. Steve lets out a high-pitched keening noise he’s never heard come out of his mouth before, the silky hot feel of Danny against him and the tight hold he’s keeping them both in sending Steve’s mind reeling.
He bites at Danny’s neck, unconcerned about leaving marks and bruises and scars, wanting to see himself all over Danny’s body when they’re finished. He digs his fingers into Danny’s shoulder muscle, wanting bruises so deep he can take a fingerprint off Danny’s skin later, in the morning, when he no doubt wakes up before Danny and gets to watch him sleep for a while. He’s missed it; he’s missed it so fucking much.
Danny grunts and pants and moans and makes all those little noises that Steve keeps on a loop in his head when he jerks off, the ones that make his stomach clench and his dick harder than anyone’s ever made him. Steve shivers when Danny swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, hips bucking forward to chase more of that feeling, imagining himself buried deep in Danny’s ass, how tight and hot he is around him.
“Close, babe?”
Steve can only nod frantically, almost head-butting Danny in the process. His knees are going numb from the hard floor of the shower and the water falling over them is quickly turning colder, but none of it matters, because Danny’s lips are searing hot over Steve’s collarbones and neck, his hand is burning through Steve where it’s sliding up and down both their cocks with a steady rhythm, and the lukewarm water is a welcome contrast against Steve’s feverishly hot skin.
He comes with a cry, Danny’s teeth sinking into his neck as he tilts his head back and feels himself spinning completely out of control, shaking into Danny’s arms. He could cry at the relief of having Danny like this, of having Danny make him come like this. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears he can’t even hear the music anymore, and he doesn’t really care about it as he trails kisses along Danny’s shoulder, biting his earlobe lightly.
“C’mon, Danny, come on, come on come on c’mon!”
Steve whispers the words like a chant in Danny’s ear, bringing his own hand up and closing it tight around Danny’s, quickening the pace as Danny whimpers and groans and bites until he goes still and comes all over their joined hands, loud pants heaving out of his chest. He falls over, leaning on Steve heavily, who feels all too happy about wrapping his arms around Danny, fingers tracing patterns like the drops of water over Danny’s back.
“Jesus.”
“Mhhmm.”
“Water’s cold.”
Steve reaches up and turns it off but keeps the shower stall closed for now, not willing to let go of the steam inside just yet. He’s not quite sure he’s able to stand up.
“You said yesterday - you got a week.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I got a week and then it’s back to base.”
“Okay. You good with plans? Because I have a few.”
Steve brushes hair off Danny’s forehead, looking down into his eyes with warmth he’s barely ever shown anyone outside his family. Danny looks comfy here, fitting right in Steve’s arms, in a way that should be alarming but that, right now, is only reassuring.
“I’m good with plans.”
“Good. First part of first plan is for us to get out of here and straight into bed. I hear the Sheraton’s beds are extremely comfy.”
---
Monday morning sees Steve wandering around Danny’s small apartment’s kitchen barefoot and his hair still sleep-mussed, wearing only sweatpants that still smell like Danny, the ones Danny borrowed after all his clothes got drenched in the shower the day before.
Head in the fridge, Steve grabs the eggs and puts them aside on the counter, all the while thinking he hasn’t planned on this happening at all. He thought most of Danny’s plans revolved around the two of them in bed, but Steve hadn’t thought it’d be Danny’s bed, only to find himself and his duffel dragged out of his hotel room late Sunday evening, straight into Danny’s car and to his apartment.
Danny, apparently, sleeps much better in his own bed than anywhere else. He also snores less, with is a bonus point for Steve, he will not deny it.
This is how Steve ends up in Danny’s apartment on Monday morning, going through cupboards as quietly as he can, collecting the ingredients for the only breakfast food he can produce fairly successfully. He works up a batter quickly once he gets everything he needs, still keeping an ear out for any noise shaped like a grumpy, sleepy small blond.
Steve sets himself to work, whistling Respect out of tune as he waits for the pan to heat up before lobbing some pancake batter on it, and, okay, Steve’s not an artist or anything but this one looks amazingly like the Venus de Milo. He starts trying to associate paintings and sculptures with every one of the pancakes he makes, all the while keeping them as golden and fluffy as he can - just like his mother used to make them.
Steve has time to cook half the batter and prepare a strong coffee before Danny wanders in, though, his hair sticking out in the most ridiculous, endearing way, and Steve licks sugar off his finger before pushing strands away from Danny’s forehead, who seems to be following the smell of coffee on auto-pilot. He pours himself a cup and wraps his hands around it, leaning his hip against the counter, narrowing his eyes for a second before pressing his cheek against Steve’s arm, looking at the pan.
“You’re making pancakes.”
“Um, yes. You don’t like pancakes?”
“Oh, I love pancakes, I just can’t remember when we managed to get to Vegas and get hitched. We have to be married, right? Because you’re making pancakes. For breakfast. Fuck, they smell nice.”
Steve motions for the plate by his other side, a smile playing on his lips at the slightly tickly feeling of Danny’s stubble against his bare skin.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember our wedding. It was beautiful, Danny.”
Danny chuckles as he pulls away, grabbing a plate for himself and loading a few pancakes onto it, stealing the maple syrup from the counter along with it.
“Wait, was it that time you wore that blue ruffled shirt? It matched my eyes perfectly!”
Danny talks around a mouthful of pancakes, and Steve turns around when he’s done cooking the last one, popping it on top of the pile before putting the pan and the spatula in the sink for future washing.
“Now you’re making it sound like we got married in the 70’s. I was born in the 70’s, Danny.”
“So was I, so what? If you can’t recognize the fashion excellence that is the ruffled shirt, babe, I might have to file for divorce.”
Steve just sighs dramatically as he grabs a stack of pancakes for himself, covering them with just enough sugar not to make him feel guilty. They eat in silence for a while, exchanging smiles over their food and coffees, Steve refraining from saying all those stupid things he’s having a hard time allowing himself to feel, how he feels comfortable and safe and like he belongs, when he’s with Danny. Because it’s ridiculous to feel this way, it’s stupid and crazy when technically they’ve only spent a week and a half together.
But the stretches of time between each meeting makes seeing Danny again more interesting and investing and powerful, in a way Steve cannot explain. Danny’s like a drug, an addiction that is in no way healthier than coke, but somehow easier to hide.
“So. I’m impressed. I just thought I’d say that, because you might think my silence means I’m ungrateful. I thought soldiers only ate ration packs and couldn’t cook for shit?”
“One, you have terrible misconceptions about soldiers. Two, you do realize I wasn’t born a Navy SEAL, right? My mom taught me how to cook these.”
“You’ll have to congratulate her for me, they’re really nice. No, they’re better than nice; they’re actual little pieces of Heaven, in my mouth.”
Steve smiles, a little too quick and a little too fake, because Danny picks up on it right away, his fork midway to his mouth.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just. She died when I was fifteen.”
Danny’s face falls into a grimace, one of those that tells Steve family, for Danny, is a lot more of a unit and a lot more important than it’s ever been for the McGarretts after Steve’s mother died. After all, his father had been all too eager to ship him and Mary-Ann away.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Danny.”
Danny nods, and Steve can only be thankful that Danny’s not one of those kind of contrite, trying to be compassionate people, like those family members that came for the funeral and that Steve had never met before. No, Danny just finishes his pancakes and then brings his empty plate to the sink, before wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, kissing the back of Steve’s neck with sticky lips.
“Thanks for the pancakes.”
---
Steve wakes up in the middle of Wednesday night with a start, the sheets cold next to him. He’s alone in bed but he can hear someone else breathing in the room, and he’s not sure whether to feel worried or relieved by this fact, his brain sleep-muddled. He sits up, looks around, only to find Danny there, wearing boxers, sitting on the ground under the window and looking at something that looks suspiciously like Steve’s passport. The official one.
“Steve J. McGarrett. What does the J. stand for?”
Danny doesn’t look up as he speaks, his eyes still fixated on the passport in his hands, looking small, almost fragile, and Steve wonders why he’s scared Danny will rip it to pieces.
“James.”
“You realize I didn’t know your last name before now? McGarrett.”
Steve likes the way his name sounds on Danny’s tongue, rough and his accent curling around the vowels.
“Danny, come back to bed.”
“Tell me everything. Tell me everything you’ve not been telling me this past year and a half. Tell me where you’ve been, Steve.”
“I - it’s classified. I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me, Steve.”
Danny sounds angry, tired, and Steve wonders if he had any sleep at all. It’s like he’s been containing his anger for a few days, too busy rediscovering Steve’s body and being comfortable, but it’s all rushing back now. Steve takes a deep, harsh breath, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t have the same amount of guilt he used to feel oppressing him right now but as he sifts through what he can and can’t say, he can feel it weigh on his shoulders a little.
“Lieutenant Steven James McGarrett, Team SEAL 7, stationed at Coronado, operating worldwide. I’m a weapons specialist and I can pilot planes and helicopters, I am a professional swimmer, diver, and free diver. I can also operate a tank if needed. Look, really, if you want to know what I can do, you can just look it up online. It’s not a secret.”
“Funny that, I’d have thought otherwise considering how long it took you to tell me it’s not a secret,” Danny sighs, closing the passport and leaving it by his side before crawling back to the bed, sitting cross-legged on it, in front of Steve. “I just. I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything before.”
“I told you why.”
“Oh, yeah, because you’re a fucking coward and you thought I didn’t know about DADT. Because you were too scared that I was going to go on and blab about this hot Navy guy I’m fucking when he’s in town. I’m sorry to bruise your ego, babe, but I’ve not been exactly beaming with pride about this.”
Steve frowns a little - not hurt, just confused.
“You’re in the closet?”
“No, fuck, that’s not my point, could you be more obtuse? No, I mean, how proud can I be that I’ve let myself be fucked over by some random guy that ran off without saying goodbye when he was done with me? How gullible and stupid am I to let this happen willingly? And now I know why you left but it doesn’t make anything better, does it? I’m still here and I still let you in my life again, which makes me even more stupid than before, because now I know that this leads nowhere and I know you’ll leave again and so I know I’m just setting myself up for - for something that will not be pleasant.”
Steve tries to think of a good reply to this, Danny’s words, accusations and thoughts wrapping themselves around him and making him feel cold, desperate, the guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks again. He wants to ask - he’s got a million questions at the tip of his tongue but there’s only one that comes out.
“Why did you come to my hotel room, Danny?”
Danny sighs, looking down at his hands, fingers spreads over the bed sheets between the two of them.
“I don’t know. I guess as long as there’s nothing better for me, as long as I’ve got no relationship or anything keeping me away from you, you’ll do.”
“I’ll do?”
Steve’s stomach twists at the words, how dismissive they are but he can hear much more meaning behind them, he can hear just how much of an addiction he is to Danny as well. He can see it in Danny’s eyes, sharply glinting in the moonlit room.
“Yeah. You’ll do.”
Steve takes a deep breath again, reaching out a curling his fingers around Danny’s left wrist.
“Good enough for me.”
He pulls Danny forward by tugging on his wrist, kissing him hard and deep, falling backwards on the bed and taking Danny with him. Danny’s giving back just as good as he’s getting, the kiss this side of violent and bruising but conveying exactly the way they’re feeling, their feelings way too similar in this exact moment. Steve is not about to talk about it as easily as Danny, but he knows he’s in for exactly the same thing as Danny is by coming back to New Jersey again, by seeking Danny again, one more hit before he has to go cold turkey for months.
They’re both setting themselves up for heartbreak, and they both know it.
---
They spend Thursday in the gym, Friday in New York. Danny seems unwilling to let go of Steve now that he knows just how long he’s got, that Steve will have to say goodbye, sooner rather than later. Steve doesn’t mind, he hangs on to Danny and every one of his laughs and smiles, every one of his moans and words. They don’t talk about that night, when Danny’s anger flowed over the two of them, when realizations made the sex rough and hard and full of bites.
Saturday’s a nice day, sunny and bright, and Steve wakes up to the steady sound of punches against bag, low grunts that make him pad to the guest room. He leans against the doorway as he watches Danny exercise - it’s still as enthralling and beautiful as it was the first time around, the first time Steve met Danny. Danny’s not wearing a shirt and sweat is rolling down his back, disappearing in the waistband of his oversized shorts as he punches the bag, precise and quick, a work-out routine he gives classes on at the gym.
Watching Danny like this reminds him of watching Danny with kids around him, mimicking his movements and laughing along with him when they don’t manage something, bowing at the sound of Danny’s clapping when they do manage. Danny’s a natural, with kids, something Steve has never thought he’d be even contemplating in his life, not this young anyway. He can’t help it, though, imagining Danny with kids of his own, imagining Danny with a life that doesn’t include Steve.
He shakes the thoughts away when he realizes Danny is staring at him, an indulgent smile on his lips, his head slightly cocked.
“Are you okay?”
Steve nods, striding forward before sitting on the edge of the single bed.
“Why don’t you turn this room into an actual gym?”
“Because I’ve got enough at work as it is. And I’ll be moving soon anyway, I’m bored of being here.”
“Yeah? Still in Weehawken, or?”
Danny shrugs, biting into the Velcro of his red bag gloves to pull them off, wiping his brow with them once they’re off. He rolls his shoulders and Steve doesn’t miss the wince there, making him narrow his eyes.
“I don’t know. I’d move to New York if I could afford it, but I can’t, so it’s probably going to be here or around here. I’ve not even started looking, I’m just saying, you know? I’d like something else. Maybe something by the water.”
“You should go travel.” When Danny winces again, Steve makes a motion with his index finger to beckon Danny closer. “C’mere, let me see that.”
Danny comes more willingly than Steve expects him to, and when he sits down in between Steve’s calves, with his back to Steve, he’s obviously not trying to pretend he has no idea what’s going on and Steve guesses maybe his shoulder hurts more than his wincing let on. Steve doesn’t have to ask before Danny’s turning slightly, his shoulder inching closer to Steve. It’s that thing they do, that understanding they have. It’d be freaking Steve out if he didn’t enjoy it as much as he does.
“Describe the pain?”
“It’s just a trapped nerve. Where would I go travel?”
Steve moves his fingers along Danny’s skin, pressing in places and noting Danny’s reactions until he’s mapped out the muscles and the tense areas to focus on. He applies pressure on the point that makes Danny hiss and move his shoulder away reflexively, but he relaxes into Steve’s hands after a moment.
“You could go to Asia. You said you’ve never been. Thailand is beautiful. You want to see those Buddhist temples, I promise you. Breathtaking. Vietnam is amazing too. The north of China. Take a backpack and go, you know? It’d be worth it.”
Danny snorts disbelievingly and Steve presses a little harder against the tangle of knotted muscles and nerves in retaliation. Danny howls and Steve grins, feeling only a little sheepish when Danny throws him a dark look.
“Not everybody can just pick up and leave, you know.”
“I’m not talking about forever, Danny. A few weeks, a month maybe? I’m sure your family can survive without you for so long.”
“Hey, let’s not do this, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Talk about my family. Louie. Let’s just not. Please?”
Steve nods, humming softly. He can do that, he can not ask anything further, if only because Danny has not pressed him to reveal anything about his classified memories and knowledge. Danny’s hand curls around his calf, digging in when Steve presses his fingers into Danny’s skin to relieve the pain. He’s still sweaty and Steve’s fingers keep on slipping, but he doesn’t stop, feeling Danny slowly relax.
“You were saying, China. Is there anything else to see in China besides that wall thing, and the food?”
“That wall thing? Thing?”
“What? What do you expect me to say, I’ve never seen the fucking Great Wall, I wouldn’t know if it’s actually as exceptional as people say, for all I know it is three rocks put together!”
“It’s one of the most, if not the most amazing thing ever built by mankind, Danny.”
“Fine, fair enough. So China, tell me more about China then. Don’t - you don’t have to talk about your classified shit, I don’t even want to know. Just. Tell me about it.”
“I’ve been in the province of Hsingan, up north, close to Mongolia. There was this tiny village there, we set up base close to it, and we kinda got friendly with the people? God, Danny, they were so amazing, taught me so much. It doesn’t even make sense, you know, that these people would be so open to us, offer us food and knowledge and smiles and I couldn’t believe it, I was so humbled. They live in this beautiful place and they take such care of it, I felt sick back in California.”
Steve is still massaging Danny’s shoulder lightly as he talks, remembering those men and women and kids, the landscape of mountains and valleys. He’s about lost in the memory of a sunrise tinting the world pink and blue when he feels Danny’s head against his knee and he smiles, halting the movement of his hands.
“Don’t stop. I’m not sleeping.”
“Right. In a minute you’ll be snoring against my leg. How’s the shoulder?”
“Good. I have this ache, though, in the small of my back...”
“Greedy bastard.”
“Hey, blame the Chinese guy who taught you how to give massages. And your impressively long fingers, too. Anyone would be greedy.”
“It wasn’t a Chinese guy, actually, it was an Uzbek, as surprising as that sounds. He was a certified physiotherapist.”
“Hey, you hear that?”
“What?”
“That, that’s the sound of me not caring where the guy who taught you that came from, babe; I just want you to keep doing it.”
Steve smiles at the way Danny’s words are a little slurred, and Steve can see how Danny’s eyes keep on fluttering closed.
“Okay, fine. Shuffle forward a little for me.”
Danny does and Steve slides off the bed, wedging himself in between Danny and the bed, both palms flat on Danny’s shoulders and sliding lower, pressing his thumbs on either side of Danny’s spine, feeling the supple skin and the muscles underneath shift. Danny groan lightly, making Steve’s stomach topple over itself, heat pooling deep in his gut when he pushes the pads of his fingers around the dimples on Danny’s lower back. He doesn’t put too much pressure as he moves his fingers around, his eyes drawn to Danny’s hand by his side, slowly curling into a fist.
Steve leans closer, trapping his hands between their bodies as he opens his mouth over the back of Danny’s shoulder, not quite kissing and not quite biting either, dragging his lips along to Danny’s neck.
“How’s that?” he whispers the words into Danny’s skin, feeling it hot and soft under his fingers and lips, and Danny groans again in answer. “Does it feel good?”
Danny lets out a noise between a growl and the beginning of a sentence that got garbled in his throat, and Steve grins, biting the side of Danny’s neck lightly, sliding his hands around to Danny’s stomach, thumbing Danny’s nipples, dipping his pinkie in Danny’s bellybutton.
“Fucking tease. Now I can’t decide if I want breakfast or sex.”
“Your life is full of tough decisions, Danny.”
Danny arches into Steve, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as he rolls his hips upwards, seeking friction that Steve’s not giving him right now.
“I know, it’s terrible. Fuck. Sex now, food later.”
Steve’s smile grows even bigger as he slips a hand inside Danny’s shorts.
“Good choice, Williams.”
---
“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”
“I’m sure.”
“So when is your next leave?”
“In six to eight months. Depends on where I’m sent and the mission.”
“Okay. Should I expect you to come back, or are you saying goodbye this time because you’re not setting foot in New Jersey ever again?”
Steve almost looks away from Danny there, from the intense look in Danny’s way too blue eyes, but then he squares up to it.
“I can’t -”
“Never mind.”
Danny just nods once, simply, and then looks around his living-room, that room that looks a little too small and a little too big right now, in Steve’s opinion.
“I know this is a stupid question, but. You sure you can’t stay any longer?”
Steve clenches his jaw, looking down at his duffel bag at his feet. He doesn’t want to leave, but it’s not like he’s got a choice. He has a job to do; it’s his duty to protect people, to protect his country.
“Danny, don’t.” Steve wants to sound stronger than he does, his voice breaking a little, and fuck, fuck this. “See, this is why I didn’t say goodbye the other times.”
Steve expects a lot of things in answer to this, but not the punch to his stomach that cuts the air from him as he reels backwards, closer to the bed. Danny looks absolutely fuming.
“You do not get to say that, Steve. You just don’t, okay, you fucking asshole, I can’t believe you’d say something like that. You’re so tough and cold, huh? Good for you, Steve, seriously, good for you.”
Danny grits his teeth and turns around, his hands flailing around him as he keeps on talking, and Steve has to look away from the way Danny’s back looks in the wifebeater he’s wearing.
“How fucking unfair can you be, huh? You come in and out like my life is a bit of property you can visit when you’re off work, and I, like the fucking schmuck I am, let you, and then you say things like that and oh, Jesus, Steve, do you have any idea how much I want to punch you right now?”
“You - already did.”
Danny turns around, pointing a finger in Steve’s face, that Steve has the hardest time not to grab and twist Danny’s hand away from him.
“You deserve much worse. My God, how can someone be so emotionally impaired? Did they train you to be this cold in the army?”
“Navy.”
“Seriously, I will punch you again.”
Steve takes a deep breath, looking into Danny’s eyes, understanding the confusion there but not really getting the other shadows that are swirling in Danny’s eyes. He’s not certain what Danny wants from him.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Danny.”
“I would’ve thought that’s pretty obvious by now, Steve. But if you need me to spell it out for you, then I guess I should just forget it, right?”
Steve opens his hands; helpless and unsure, feeling like the ground is too unstable for him right now, like it’s going to swallow him up. Danny’s eyes are looking straight into his, an anchor Steve isn’t sure he deserves.
“I. I gotta go.”
Steve shoulders his bag and takes one, two steps before Danny grabs his arm and throws him against the wall, plastering himself to Steve’s front. The kiss is forceful and a little violent, the sound of Steve’s duffel hitting the ground next to them wrapping itself around the groan that escapes Steve. He grips Danny’s hips, pulling him closer, impossibly close when he bites on Danny’s lower lip to keep him from pulling away. He pushes feelings in his actions, encircling Danny’s shoulders and waist with his arms, the grabbing turning into hugging, the kissing turning into shared breaths as they rest their foreheads against each other’s.
“I’m sorry, Danny, I don’t -”
“No. Don’t apologize.”
“Okay.”
Steve got more words on the tip of his tongue, things he wants to say, stupid things that would make him feel like a sap and that would resonate wrong through his head. He leans in and kisses Danny again instead of saying anything, this time gently, a goodbye without the words.
Danny pulls away reluctantly, his eyes everywhere but on Steve as Steve grabs his bag again and this time there isn’t anything or anyone to stop him until he’s at the door. He looks back, but Danny’s got his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Steve leaves as silently as he can make it.