Pulling Down the Trees - Steve/Danny - NC-17

[h50exchangemod]

Author: thegrrrl2002
Recipient: pollitt
Title: Pulling Down the Trees
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Danny
Summary: Steve's compartments are spilling over into each other.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: No warnings apply.
Word Count: 10,468
Disclaimer: All Hawaii Five-0 characters herein are the property of CBS. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Notes: A big thank you to I for the read though, it's very much appreciated!


*****

"What do you mean, 'not bad'?" Danny asks as he follows Steve into the house. "On what planet was that 'not bad'? Huh?"

Steve shrugs. "Just calling it like I see it, Danny." He fights back a grin as Danny pushes past and spins around to face him.

"I was damn good out there and you know it." Danny waggles a finger in the air, clearly pleased with himself. "I was shredding."

"Oh." Steve nods knowingly. "Shredding."

"Stop it, with the face, right now." Danny bounds into the kitchen and opens the fridge. "I know it would kill you to admit I'm actually good at something, but--hey, are these the leftovers from last night?" He holds up a food container. "They're mine now, okay? I'm starving. Want a beer?"

Steve follows Danny into the kitchen and he's grinning now. He can't help himself. Because Danny is actually pretty okay on that surfboard. And because Danny's in board shorts and a tight t-shirt, barefoot, hair sweeping in messy waves back from his forehead as he rummages around in Steve's fridge like he owns it.

Danny glances up and catches Steve looking. "What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me? I'm funny?" Danny frowns. "I'm hungry, trying to find some lunch here, and that's funny to you?"

"I'm just thinking about the guy who used to wear the tie," Steve makes a cinching motion up by his neck, "with the buttoned-up shirt and the patent leather shoes."

"You don't see me going to work like this, do you?" Danny plucks at his tee-shirt. "I still look like a professional on the job."

"Uh huh." Steve leans back against the counter, gazing at Danny steadily.

"And even like this, I still look more like a professional than you do," Danny insists. He pulls the food container from the fridge and heads for the microwave, which is directly behind Steve. "Excuse me. Please."

"A professional what?" Steve asks.

"A professional person who looks like a professional and who needs to eat lunch, so if you don't mind?" Danny waves his hand impatiently, trying to shoo Steve aside.

"Nah." Steve crosses his arms over his chest, pondering. "You know what you look like?"

"No. Please tell me so I can get on with my life. And my lunch."

"You look like you belong."

Danny truly does look like he belongs. In Hawaii. And in Steve's house, puttering around the kitchen like he owns it. The thought is intriguing and yet vaguely disturbing.

Danny stops, head tilted to one side. "Oh, great. You really know how to hurt a guy." He thumps the back of his hand against Steve's chest but despite his words, he looks pleased.

"It's a good look for you," Steve adds. "It really is."

"Are you trying to make me cry?" Danny thumps Steve's chest again. He's closer now and his hand lingers warmly on Steve's chest

Without thinking, Steve reaches out to squeeze Danny's shoulder. "Sorry, buddy. Just calling it like I see it."

"Yeah, you look sorry, you big jerk." Danny grins.

He's leaning into Steve, looking up at him and for an instant, Steve thinks that Danny is going to kiss him. Which is ridiculous, of course. Danny doesn't kiss guys, but he's standing way too close for anything else. He should have moved away by now but instead he's gazing up at Steve, eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile genuine and amused. All Steve would have to do is duck his head and their lips would meet.

A sudden rush of panic and Steve steps aside, dropping his arm. "Eat your lunch," he says, a little too sharply.

"That's what I was trying to do." Danny is watching him, a curious expression on his face and Steve wonders, not for the first time, if he's reading way too much into Danny's easy affection.

Danny waves the container in Steve's direction. "You want some?"

Steve swallows. Yeah. He wants. "Nah, I'm good. There's some pineapple left."

"Suit yourself."

Steve opens the fridge and even though he knows exactly where the container of pineapple is, he lingers for a moment, leaning in and letting the cool air wash over his face.

It's not that Steve hasn't been with guys before--he used to do that sort of thing, in the past, before his military career became too important to screw up. But that was all about getting off, all about the quick and dirty. Danny's a friend. His partner, for god's sake. Not fodder for a furtive hand job in a dark alley, no matter how good he looks in his boardies.

He and Danny can't, and won't, ever happen.

Problem is, he's spending far too much time with Danny. Their lives are too closely intertwined, and while it's fun having Danny around all the time--listening to him ramble on about everything and anything, watching him get all excited over riding the waves, and the added bonus of being able to admire Danny's ass in his board shorts, it could never lead to anything, especially since Danny has Gabby.

Or especially since it's not the kind of thing Steve does anymore.

Whatever.

Steve firmly pushes the thought from his mind as he pulls out the sliced pineapple. He's not going to contemplate it any further. He's good at compartmentalizing. It's what helped him succeed in the military, helped him reach the elite levels that so few make it to. His mind is as finely honed and trained as his body.

"Yo, Steven, you moving in?" Danny asks.

Steve pulls back from the fridge, pineapple in hand. "What?"

"Taking up residence in the fridge?"

Steve straightens up. "Just looking for the pineapple."

Danny rolls his eyes, then waves his phone at Steve. "Got a text from Kono. Tonight's the thing with her cousin's band. She wants to know if we're going. Are we going?"

"Sure," Steve says. He doesn't want to disappoint Kono. But after that, he's definitely going to make a point of spending less time with Danny. Give himself a little breathing space. Maybe spend Sunday working on the Marquis. There are plenty of things he could do that don't involve Danny.

*****

The bar is growing more and more crowded. Steve checks his watch--the band should be starting up any minute now. He leans against the bar and nurses his beer. Danny is beside him, watching the crowd disinterestedly, his nose a bit pink from the sun this morning despite the application of copious amounts of sunscreen.

"Hey," Steve asks, "Why don't you call Gabby and have her meet us here? I haven't seen her in a while."

Danny shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand.

"What?" Steve leans close, trying to hear Danny over the din. He has a sinking feeling--Danny hasn't mentioned Gabby in a couple of weeks. "Something happen between you two?"

"No, no, nothing happened. Other than the fact that we're not a thing. Not anymore."

"And you didn't tell me?" Steve asks, momentarily indignant. They had spent the entire morning together.

"What, do I have to tell you everything about my life?" Danny snaps. "While you are so very not forthcoming with yours?"

"Okay. Okay." Maybe Danny has a point. "When did this happen?"

"Couple weeks ago."

Steve is irritated, even though he knows he has no right to be. "And it took you this long to tell me?"

"I didn't want to talk about it, okay?" Danny says. "I had some things I needed to work out in my head."

"What kind of things?" Steve immediately asks.

"Whoa." Danny raises a hand, shutting Steve down. "Just--stuff, okay? The kind of stuff you don't need to know about."

Steve is puzzled, but he nods in acquiescence. "All right. Sorry it didn't work out between you two." He pats Danny's back, and feels genuinely sad--he liked Gabby. He liked how happy she made Danny. "I'm sorry, man."

Danny drains his beer. "Nah, I'm good." He signals the bartender for another.

"What happened?"

"It was mutual. It just wasn't working out, we didn't have that much in common." Danny shakes his head. "Plus with my crazy schedule, getting called out on cases all the time. It's hard, you know? So we decided to call it quits. We parted as friends."

"You okay?"

Danny shrugs. "I've been better."

"You want to talk about it?" Steve asks, because he's a friend, and that's what friends do.

"No. I don't want to talk about it." Danny accepts the fresh beer from the bartender and Steve hurries to pay for it. "Oh, okay, if you're buying, I'll take a shot too. Whiskey, please."

Steve shoots Danny a look, but pulls the extra bills from his wallet to cover the shot and Danny grins. Which is a good thing. Grinning Danny is always good.

The bartender lines up the beer and the shot, pouring out a generous amount of whiskey. Danny leans in, elbows on the bar as he contemplates his choices for a moment, then selects the shot.

"I mean, now that I think about it," Danny says, pausing to taste the whiskey. "I was so scared to take that first step, to start dating again. And even though it didn't work out, I'm okay. I'm not thrilled, but I'm not crushed."

"Not crushed is always good," Steve agrees. He wonders if Danny is still protecting himself, that maybe he didn't put his heart into the relationship with Gabby, just in case things went wrong.

"The worst happened, and it wasn't so bad." Danny downs the shot. "But you know what was nice? Just having someone around. To talk to, to go to the grocery store with, to share things with. Even though we didn't always connect, felt good to have that again."

Danny's looking sad now, mouth drooping, eyes downcast so Steve nudges him with an elbow. "You still got me."

Danny snorts. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Uh huh." Steve sips his beer, making it last. He suspects he'll be driving tonight.

Danny eyes Steve speculatively. He says something else that Steve can't quite hear, but when Steve leans closer Danny just shakes his head and drains half his beer in one swallow.

"How is Gracie taking it?" Steve asks, remembering what a huge deal it was for Danny to introduce them.

"She was disappointed, which killed me, because you know how I hate to disappoint my little girl," Danny takes another swallow of his beer. "But she has tennis, and she's in the school play, and she's starting gymnastics. She's moved on. Probably forgotten all about it by now."

"Kids are pretty resilient." It sounds trite coming out of his mouth, but Steve can't think of anything else to say.

Danny drains his beer. "As am I. I just need to get a little bit drunk tonight. And then I will be fine."

Steve buys him another beer, and then there's motion on stage--the musicians are setting up. "So which one is Kono's cousin?" he asks.

"All of them?"

Steve laughs as he turns toward the stage, leaning back against the bar. He catches sight of Kono in the crowd and waves her over. She's wearing a short little black dress and low boots and looks fabulous, a standout in a crowd full of young, pretty people.

"Hi boss, hey Danny," she says, greeting them with a sparkling smile.

"Hey hey yourself," Danny says. "Look at you, all gorgeous and everything."

Her smile grows wider. "Glad you both are here. You're going to love these guys. Hey, Danny, where's Gabby?"

Steve winces, but Danny just shakes his head. "We broke up."

Kono raises her eyebrows. "Oh no, Danny, I'm so sorry. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Danny says. "It wasn't working out."

She gives Danny a brief hug, patting him on the back. "That sucks, man."

"It's all right. I still have Steve," Danny says, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Steve's.

Steve nods. "He still has me."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Kono asks.

"That," Danny says, raising a finger. "Remains to be seen. Although he does keep buying me beers."

"I'd say that's a good thing, brah." She signals to the bartender and flashes a cheeky smile at Steve. "So you're buying tonight?"

Steve buys Kono a beer, rolling his eyes as if terribly put out by it. He's then forced to buy Danny another shot and another beer and now he's curious and a bit worried. He's never seen Danny really drunk.

They chat some more, and then the band begins to play, making further conversation impossible. The music is loud and the bar grows even more crowded and noisy. The band is pretty good, he's enjoying the music and a quick glance shows that Danny seems to be enjoying it too, tapping his foot on the barstool and watching the crowd on the dance floor.

The set lasts about an hour, and Steve buys Danny one more beer. As the musicians finish up, Danny taps Steve's thigh to get his attention, then leans over and shouts, "Going outside for some air."

Steve nods and slides off the barstool to follow him. Danny doesn't seem terribly drunk but he's not going to let Danny wander about the dock all by himself. Plus the noise and the crowd is starting to get to him--shit, he must be getting old.

It's a relief to step out into the cool, quiet night.

"There were a lot of nice young ladies in there," Steve says as they dodge patrons smoking and chatting out on the sidewalk. "Maybe you need to chat some of them up, get back into the swing of things."

He's not sure if he's suggesting this for Danny's sake or his own.

"Oh yes, they were very cute, and very twenty one years old," Danny says. "I don't want to be one of those guys, you know?"

"Yeah. I hear you," Steve agrees, although he's sure there were women in the crowd closer to their own ages.

"What about you?" Danny asks. He spins around to face Steve. "Ever since you and Catherine--what was the word you used? Fizzled. Fizzled out. You haven't exactly been tearing up the dating scene." He takes a step back and stumbles. "Whoa, I think I may be a bit tipsy."

Steve grabs hold of Danny's arm and points him toward the parking lot. "Wasn't that the plan?"

"Yes, yes, it was. I have been successful in executing my plan, thanks to you."

"You're welcome." With a hand to Danny's back, Steve tries to steer him toward the car but Danny veers off to the right, toward the docks.

"Just need a little air," Danny explains. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you have not answered my question. Because I have. Noticed. Your lack of answering. That's the thing with you. You're evasive. Why so evasive, Steven?"

Apparently whiskey makes Danny even more voluble than usual.

"What was the question?" Steve asks, glancing about for a distraction.

It's even quieter by the docks. There is only the sound of water lapping at the hull of the boats, clanking halyards, the creak of wood. Peaceful. But not very distracting.

"This is nice, huh?" Danny asks. He runs his hands through his hair and looks up at the sky and laughs a little. "I mean, it's not New Jersey, but it will do." He grins at Steve.

There's a full moon out, and the light catches the highlights in Danny's hair. He's dressed in a worn t-shirt and khakis, his demeanor loose and relaxed and in that moment he looks so young and carefree that it makes Steve's chest ache. He wants Danny to always look this way but he knows it's only an illusion, brought about by beer and whiskey.

"Come on, time to share, Steven. Why haven't you been on a date in the past--what's it been, four months?"

It's a very good question. "I guess my life feels pretty full right now," Steve says with a shrug. "I've got the job. And I've got you." He tries to make it sound like a joke, like he's kidding around with Danny but to his ears his voice sounds painfully earnest.

Danny beams at him. "Aw. Listen to you."

Without warning, Danny hugs him. Wraps his arms around Steve, leaning up on his tiptoes and hugging him close. Steve returns the hug without hesitation, leaning down--there's something incredibly endearing about how far down he has to lean to hug Danny--and wrapping his arms around Danny's shoulders. His heart beats faster and this, right here, is dangerous, but Steve loves it, loves the way Danny's hair smells, loves the play of muscles in Danny's shoulders as Danny squeezes him tight.

Then Danny releases him, and Steve feels a sharp jab of disappointment.

"You, Steve, are a good guy," Danny says as he pulls back, hands lingering on Steve's shoulders. "And that's not just the whiskey talking."

And Steve thinks that this time, Danny might really actually kiss him, he's standing so close and he's a bit drunk and Steve doesn't know what to do, because he's not sure he can back away this time.

"Sure it is," Steve manages, a little bit breathless. "The whiskey talking."

"You're right, it is." A warm smile and Danny squeezes Steve's shoulders before dropping his arms. "You're a royal pain in my ass. But I love you anyway."

Surprised and touched by Danny's admission, Steve ducks his head and laughs, his face growing warm. He wants so very badly to pull Danny in and kiss him, to do all the things to Danny that he refuses to think about. And the scary thing is, with the way Danny is looking at him, the softness around his eyes, the fond smile--he's starting to suspect that Danny would be perfectly willing to let him.

Because Danny had to think about 'things' after he and Gabby split up. Maybe Steve was wrong about Danny not kissing other guys. Maybe Danny is starting to see him as more than just a friend.

Steve doesn't know what the hell to think.

"You ready to listen to the next set? Or do you want to call it night?" Danny asks, gazing back at the bar.

"I think I'm ready to head home," Steve admits. He really needs to get away from tipsy, tempting Danny. "Unless you need another drink?"

"No, I'm feeling good right now. Any more booze and it will put me over the edge into morose," Danny says. "And believe me, I have developed morose into a fine art form."

"What do you say we get you home so you can sleep it off?" Steve rests a hand on Danny's shoulder and steers him back toward the cars.

"It's a very delicate balance, between happily buzzed and morose." Danny's slurring a bit now, swaying as he walks. He sighs heavily. "Gabby's a nice girl. Maybe that was the problem."

"How?" Steve asks. "You don't think you deserve that?"

"No, no, not that. It's--" Danny flutters a hand in the air. "Complicated."

"Uh huh. Relationships usually are."

"Thank you, Dr. Freud." Danny glares at Steve.

"You're welcome." Steve slings an arm over Danny's shoulders. He can't help himself. A glaring Danny is incredibly appealing.

"Want to hit the waves again tomorrow?" Danny asks, bumping against Steve as he walks.

"Sure," Steve says. He can't say no to Danny. It's just surfing, after all. He can't abandon Danny now, post-breakup. He'll work on the giving-himself-some-space business next week.

"Although," Danny says with a sly glance, "two days in a row--aren't you afraid people might get to thinking that we are surf buddies?"

Steve stops and eyes Danny curiously. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope. Oh hey, look at that, it's our car." Danny pats the hood of the Camaro. "Oh my god, did I just say 'our car'"? He looks suitably mortified.

"Yes Danny, you did." Steve is getting that worried feeling all over again.

Steve drives Danny home, then follows him into his apartment just to make sure he's okay. He makes Danny drink a big glass of water and take aspirin before going to bed to help ward off any hangover. He leaves Danny stretched out on his bed, sleepy and relaxed and all too appealing. And Steve starts thinking about things all over again.

He wonders what the hell happened to all his nice neat compartments.

*****

They do indeed go surfing the following morning, Danny seemingly unscathed by the drinks the night before. They spend Sunday afternoon watching a ball game together, and things seem perfectly normal between them and Steve starts to wonder once again if he misread Danny's affection for him as something entirely different than what it was.

Danny's an affectionate kind of guy. And Steve is sure once again that he's reading far too much into it.

And then they are back at work and things are crazy as usual. They've taken on a big case--bank robbery--and it keeps them busy. Danny seems fine, seems to be taking the break-up with Gabby in stride, so Steve decides that once this case is wrapped up, he is going to spend his time off by himself, working on the Marquis and getting things done around the house. And regain his equilibrium in the process. Neaten up all those compartments.

*****

Wrapping up the case seems like it will be a fairly simple process, once they've located a witness. Steve heads out with Danny to conduct the interview. Danny's good with witnesses, seems to know just the thing to say to calm them down.

"This is it," Danny says as they stand in front of the boat slip, eyeing the yacht rocking gently in the bay. "Bachten should be expecting us."

Danny sounds uneasy and Steve nods in agreement. It's too quiet and there's no sign of their witness, no one out on the boat to greet them. Steve draws his weapon as Danny does the same. Chin and Kono are on their way, but Steve doesn't want to wait--this guy could be in trouble and their case depends on him. "Come on," he says, motioning to Danny.

Danny sighs and Steve knows he'd rather wait for backup. But he's not protesting, indicating he's just as concerned as Steve. They board the yacht, creeping carefully up the plank, tense and focused. Steve catches a glimpse of movement inside the cabin. Maybe. He can't be sure--could be the sun flashing off the windows. He motions to Danny and they separate, Danny heading to the bow, Steve rounding the stern. He's listening intently, but all he hears is the creaking of the boat and the sea lapping against the hull.

He hopes there's not a body waiting for them inside the cabin. Rounding the turn, he sees the flicker of a shadow and spins around. It's too late. Blinding white pain on the side of his head, stunning him, a hard blow to his side and then he's in the air, falling--

Water rushes up to engulf him, cool and welcoming. Through the haze of pain he instinctively holds his breath as he sinks further and further. He needs to find the surface, he needs to move. He needs to breathe. Finally, despite his disorientation, his training kicks in and he forces his arms to move, ignoring the surge of nausea.

He breaks through the surface and gasps for breath, trying to clear his head. The boat is behind him and he hears gunshots being fired on deck. Steve wants to help but he can't. He can't see what's happening. He needs to get to the boat, he needs to get to Danny and god damn it, he should have never let these assholes get the drop on him. He sees a dock just up ahead and swims toward it, ignoring the pain thudding through his head, the nausea surging through his stomach. Instead he focuses on making stroke after stroke, cutting cleanly through the water.

When he reaches the dock, he gets a hand around the support post, gripping it tight and giving himself a moment to breathe. In and out, drawing welcome air into his lungs and exhaling it slow and steady, until the roiling in his stomach begins to ease and his vision clears.

There are flashing lights just up ahead, reflecting off of the water. Squad cars. He can't hear any more shots being fired and maybe the situation is under control. Even so, he's going to go over and help, in just a minute, he's going to pull himself up out of the water and arrest the son of a bitch who whacked him in the head.

Any minute now.

He's resting his forehead against his arm when the water splashes up into his face and he coughs, setting off the throbbing in his head and increasing the pain. His hand begins to slip so he kicks up and gets a better grip on the wood, hugging the post closer and he needs to get his ass out of the water, he needs to get to his team, right now.

Someone's coming.

Steve can feel the vibration of footsteps on the dock, someone running fast and Steve wishes he had his weapon--he dropped it on deck, or maybe in the water, he can't recall. But when he lifts his head, he sees that it's Danny, thank god, Danny sliding down onto his knees and leaning down over the edge of the dock, his face creased with worry.

"Come on, Steve, come on, come on, let's get out of the water," Danny says, soft and breathless, his words running together as if talking to himself. "No time to go swimming, okay?"

He wraps a hand around Steve's wrist and Steve gets a second hand on the dock, channeling his remaining energy into a good strong kick. Danny hauls him up out of the water, hooking a hand under Steve's armpit as he pulls Steve in. They land in a sprawl on the dock, Steve slumped against Danny's chest with Danny's arm around him, holding him steady.

"Okay, okay, I got you. Are you all right, huh?" Danny cups Steve's chin, lifting his head. "Huh? You with me, Steve?"

Everything's gone a bit fuzzy from the exertion and now Steve's cold, the wind cooling his wet skin. He shivers, pressing up against Danny, who wraps both arms around him and holds him close, fingers digging in, betraying his anxiety.

"I'm good," Steve finally manages.

"Yeah. Yeah. You look real good, you goof."

A huff of laughter and Steve pulls back, finally forcing his eyes open. "Bit of a headache."

Danny nods, carefully running his fingers over Steve's scalp. "I saw you get hit. You went into the water but I couldn't get to you. I just--I couldn't get to you." He's still talking too fast, his voice tight and Steve knows Danny's more than a little freaked out.

Steve pats Danny's chest. "It's okay, buddy. I'm good." Danny's fingers brush over the bruise on his head and he winces. "Ow. Except for that." Still he leans closer, because it feels really good, being tucked up against Danny. It's sort of like a hug.

"Nice bump." Danny cups the side of Steve's face, tilting his head up. "Come here, look at me, let me check your eyes."

Steve blinks up into Danny's worried blue eyes, just inches away. And Danny's mouth, right there, close to his own. Danny looks like he needs a kiss, some reassurance. More footsteps, and any further thoughts are interrupted by Chin, thank god, kneeling down beside him. Steve is very glad to see him.

"How you feeling, Steve?"

"He's woozy," Danny says, before Steve can answer. "Got a nice bump on his head, but so far his pupils aren't dilated or uneven." He releases Steve, hand curling briefly, affectionately around the back of Steve's neck as he pulls away.

"I'm okay, just have a hell of a headache," Steve assures Chin. "What about Bachten?"

"Bound and gagged inside the cabin, but basically all right," Chin says.

"Bachten identified the attackers as the guys he saw committing the robbery," Danny says. "The big guy who hit you is Robinson."

"I like when the bad guys come to us," Steve says, running his hand over his head. He does have a heck of a bump. "Case closed?"

Chin nods. "Looks like. One of Robinson's henchmen is already talking a blue streak."

"Nice," Danny says. "Gotta love the loyalty.

"Can't get good henchmen these days," Chin agrees. "These guys are amateurs. Another five minutes with Kono and we'll know where they're hiding the money."

"You sound almost disappointed," Danny tells him.

Chin laughs, then looks up, gazing back at the road. "Ambulance is here. I'll send them this way." He rises to his feet and heads toward the parking area.

"I can walk," Steve insists.

Danny pats him on the back. "I know you can. But right now you're going to wait right here for the paramedics."

Steve is finding it hard to keep his eyes open, so he decides against arguing, just this once. When the paramedics arrive with the stretcher, they poke and prod him, and shine that annoying light in his eyes, and Steve knows he's in for tests and x-rays and observations and damn it, this is not how he wanted to spend his weekend.

*****

"No, you are not driving," Danny says as Steve heads toward the driver's side door, more out of habit than a desire to actually drive.

"Why not?" Steve asks. His head hurts and he's feeling cranky.

"Because you just got whacked in the head, genius. Because you have a concussion." Danny cuts in front of Steve and stands resolutely between Steve and the driver's side door.

"Danny--"

"Sorry buddy, but it's not happening," Danny says. "I know you're a control freak, but sometimes you just have to let go, just a little bit." He makes a flinging motion with his hands. "Let it go."

Steve sighs a heavy, put-upon sigh and makes the turn to the passenger side door. He slides into the car carefully, his head still aching, but he's glad to be done with the hospital, glad that the doctor didn't insist on an overnight stay.

"So," Danny says, brandishing a sheet of instructions as they settle into the car. "No heavy activities, plenty of rest, take only--"

"--Tylenol, not aspirin or ibuprofen, wake every three to four hours," Steve says, talking over Danny.

Danny puts the paper down and stares at Steve. "Do I want to know how you know all this so well?"

"No, probably not."

"Could explain a lot about you," Danny grimaces as he opens the pharmacy bag. "So, do you want the regular or the heavy duty painkillers?"

Steve leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes as he thinks it over. "I should take the regular. The prescription stuff makes me kind of spacey."

"And why is that a problem? I'm driving you home, I'm going to get you dinner, then stay overnight to keep an eye on you. It says so, right here in the instructions." Danny waves the papers at Steve. "I've got my bag packed and in the trunk."

Steve takes a breath, then opens his eyes. "Danny, you don't have to--"

"Of course I don't have to. Nobody's holding a gun to my head. I want to. Let me do this, okay? If you're really hurting, take the damn pills and zone out for a while. I promise you, the world will not come to an end. God, must you be such a pain in the ass?" Danny flops back in the car seat. "Oh, wait, you're Steve McGarrett. Of course you must."

Danny's waiting patiently, pill bottle in hand. Steve doesn't know how to explain to Danny that the world might indeed come to an end, because if he takes the pills and lets his defenses down, his compartments might all spill over into each other.

It scares the hell out of him. And makes the throbbing pain in his head even worse.

"Come on, look at your face. I can tell you are in pain." Danny is speaking softly now, coaxing.

Steve relents. His head really does hurt. "Yeah. Okay."

He can do this. He's trained and experienced in dangerous situations. He can handle being around Danny.

He takes the pills from Danny, finds the water bottle and swallows them down as Danny starts up the car. Closing his eyes against the sun, he listens as Danny talks about the case they've just wrapped up, filling him in on the details. There's a fair amount of traffic, and by time they get home, the pain in his head is beginning to ease.

"All right, we're here," Danny announces.

Steve opens his eyes. "Took you long enough. You drive so slow, Danno."

"It's called a speed limit, Steven." Danny's already getting out of the car.

It takes a moment for Steve to unlatch the seat belt, and another for him to pull the door handle. By the time he pushes it open, Danny is there, watching with a bemused expression as Steve struggles to get his unruly legs out of the car and onto the driveway.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Danny says, grinning. He extends a hand. "Come on, or else we'll be here all night."

Steve scowls. It's not funny, not funny at all. Still, he reaches out a hand and allows Danny to pull him out of the car.

"Come on." Danny guides him toward the house with a hand to the small of his back. "How's the headache?"

"Better," Steve says. His brain feels sluggish and his mouth is unpleasantly dry, making it hard to speak. "Only hurts a little."

"Good." Danny ushers him inside, bringing him into the living room and getting him settled on the couch. He sits on the edge of the coffee table, facing Steve. "Can I get you anything?"

Steve leans back on the couch. "A new head."

"Believe me," Danny says. "I would if I could."

"Okay, how about a cup of tea?"

"Tea? Seriously?" Danny makes a face, as if drinking tea is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"Yes, Danny," Steve says evenly. "Tea."

"All right." Danny sighs. "Tea it is."

He slides off of the table and disappears into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, not that he's watching Danny's ass, because that would involve thinking about things he's vowed not to think about. He just...wants to watch. He listens as Danny bangs around in the kitchen, filling the kettle, setting it on the stove--Steve's sure he's going to leave a mess behind. Danny always does. Still, the sound of someone in his kitchen is surprisingly comforting.

A cabinet opens. "Uh, Steve, what color tea do you want?"

Steve thinks it over. "Green," he calls out.

A rustle of boxes, then, "You have like, five green teas here."

"Jasmine green," Steve decides, then winces. Shouting is not good for the head. He closes his eyes again and hates how useless he feels. He should also hate that he's going to end up spending the entire weekend with Danny. Except that he's sort of glad Danny's here with him. It feels good, having Danny around. It feels right.

He slides further down on the couch, resting his aching head against a pillow.

"Hey. Hey Steve--"

Danny's voice, soft and low. Steve opens his eyes to find Danny placing a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table. He must have dozed. Slow and careful not to jostle his head, Steve pushes himself back up into a sitting position.

"You want to go upstairs and get some sleep?" Danny asks, looking far too concerned.

"No, no I don't. It's the damn pills." Irritated, Steve picks up his tea and sips carefully. It's strong and hot and a bit sweet, just the way he likes it. And for some reason, that makes him even more irritated, because he can't even justify complaining about his damn cup of tea.

"Yeah, I don't like the way they make me feel, either," Danny admits, surprisingly sympathetic. "Took something similar when I first injured my knee. But it beats being in pain."

Danny takes his own tea and settles into the leather club chair. Which annoys Steve even further. There's plenty of room on the couch, there's no reason for Danny to be sitting all the way over there, in his button-down blue striped shirt stretched so tightly across his chest that it looks like it's about to lose a button.

"Know what you need right now?" Danny asks.

"I need a lot of things," Steve snaps. Better compartments, for one.

"What you need right now is a movie." Danny picks up the remote. "Something with lots of shooting and explosions. Am I right?"

It turns out Danny is right. Steve's not even sure what the name of the movie is that they settle on, but there's car chases and explosions and it's pretty awesome, if somewhat improbable. Although not quite as improbable as Danny seems to think, and he takes great pleasure in arguing various points with Danny throughout the movie.

When the movie is over Steve is indeed feeling much better, even though his head still hurts, and there's still a lingering fuzziness from the painkillers.

"Hungry?" Danny asks.

"I could eat."

"I'll get some take-out. Your choice even.” Danny rises from the chair and sits beside Steve on the couch. "Come on, let me see your eyes."

"Is this really necessary, Danny?" Steve knows all about the risks of brain swelling and intracranial pressure but he's fine, Danny's being ridiculous about it.

"Would you just look at me? Or do I have to read your after-care instructions to you again? Because I will. Word for word."

Steve sits up and turns to Danny, who immediately curls a hand around Steve's jaw, positioning him just so and once again Steve is treated to Danny's bright blue eyes, up close and far too personal. He wonders just what exactly Danny sees.

"Looking good, babe." Danny releases Steve's jaw and pats his leg.

Steve pulls back, and he can still feel the warmth of Danny's hand on his face. So much touching. So easy for Danny.

Danny checks his watch. "Almost time for another pill."

"I don't need--"

Raising a hand, Danny gets up and goes to the front window, pulls the curtains back and gazes out at the street. "I just would like to point out that the world has indeed not come to an end, due to your temporary incapacitation."

Steve scowls. "Give it time."

Danny shakes his head and laughs. After a moment, Steve laughs too. "Okay," Steve admits. "So I'm a little cranky."

"A little?"

"Just remember, I had to listen to you bitch about your knee for two weeks," Steve points out.

"That's because it was all your fault, you animal." Danny scrubs a hand over his head. "Although, I'm pretty sure this is my fault. I should have been able to warn you, Steve. I'm supposed to have your back and I didn't see them until they hit you. I'm sorry."

Steve waves him off. "Not your fault. It happens." He wants Danny to stop looking so worried. "How about Thai for dinner?"

That distracts Danny, who grabs menus from the kitchen drawer and sorts through them. Even better is when Grace calls, and Steve is treated to Danny's unabashed delight in talking with his daughter, watching the warm smile spread across his face.

After that there's dinner out on the lanai, and quiet conversation and despite the throbbing in his head, Steve feels oddly content by the time he drags himself off for a shower--a quick shower--and bed.

*****

There's something pressing on his shoulder. Steve grabs it, his fingers closing around a wrist and as he struggles toward wakefulness, he hears Danny gently calling out his name.

"Huh?" Steve asks, puzzled. He blinks his eyes open. It's nighttime, he's in bed and he still has a headache.

"Question and answer time, my friend." Danny is leaning over him, voice muzzy with sleep. The red plaid blanket from the sofa downstairs is wrapped around his shoulders. He squeezes Steve's arm. "You with me?"

Steve nods, carefully.

"What's my name?" Danny asks, his voice soft and gentle. Almost intimate.

"Danno."

Danny rolls his eyes. "Who is the president of the United States?"

"Abraham Lincoln." Steve is more fully awake, and realizes his hand is still wrapped around Danny's wrist, resting on his chest now. He doesn't let go. Danny's not pulling it away.

"What's your favorite color?"

Steve thinks it over. "Camouflage."

Danny laughs, low and throaty. "It would be." He sits on the edge of the bed, blanket falling to his waist. His hair is rumpled, his tee-shirt soft and worn and Steve feels an all too familiar rush of longing. Danny raises his other hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Steve answers, squinting at them in the moonlight.

Danny drops his hand. "Okay." He yawns and rubs a hand over his eyes. "You pass. How do you feel?"

"Headache's still there," Steve admits.

"Come on, take some more painkillers." Danny finally slips his hand from Steve's grasp and reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand, scooping up the pills.

Steve pushes himself up, wincing at the pain in his head. He takes the pills from Danny and pops them into his mouth, then takes the water and swallows them down with a big gulp.

"Okay?" Danny asks, and Steve nods, handing the water back to Danny.

"'S nice."

Danny raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"You," Steve clarifies.

"Of course I'm nice." Danny sounds amused, his grin warm and affectionate. He leans over Steve, his weight making the mattress dip as he pulls the sheet up over Steve's chest. "Go back to sleep now, big guy."

Steve wants to bask in that warmth a little bit longer. "Stay," he says before he can stop himself. He reaches for Danny, hand falling on Danny's waist.

Danny blinks. Then pats Steve gently on the chest. "Of course I'm staying, Steve, I'm sleeping right downstairs, remember?"

"No," Steve insists. He's tired, his head hurts and he doesn't want Danny to go away. "Stay here."

His compartments are a mess but he doesn't care anymore.

Danny looks at the space in the bed, then back at Steve, bemused. "Oookay."

Despite his dubious response, Danny stretches out on the bed beside Steve, pulling the red blanket up over himself. Steve reaches out, resting a hand on Danny's chest. He's pretty sure he's crossing a line, but it feels so right to touch Danny, to feel the warmth of Danny's body beneath his hand. He closes his eyes and begins to drift off to sleep, reassured by Danny's presence.

A rustle of blankets and Danny rolls toward him. "You make me crazy, Steven," he whispers, then presses his lips to Steve's forehead.

Steve slides a hand around Danny's neck and pulls him down for a kiss, just a brief brush of his lips over Danny's. It's so easy, feels so natural and Steve doesn't know why he's waited so long.

"Go to sleep," Danny whispers, nose bumping Steve's cheek.

And so Steve does.

*****

Steve wakes with a start. The morning sun fills the room with a soft light, birds are singing outside his window and he's not alone.

Danny.

Danny is in his bed, curled up and wrapped in a blanket, his face mashed into the pillow, sound asleep. Steve frowns, trying to figure out how Danny got there. And then he remembers all in a rush--asking Danny to stay, touching Danny, kissing Danny--fuck, he kissed Danny.

He slides out of bed, carefully, slowly, wincing against the pain in his head, the throbbing starting up anew with the movement. Feet on the floor, he rises up, takes a deep breath and it's actually not too bad, his head feels much better than the day before. He can get by on regular painkillers.

Danny shifts, but doesn't open his eyes, so Steve creeps out of the room, feeling like a complete jerk but he's not ready to face Danny, not yet.

He heads down the stairs and into the kitchen, pausing to grab a glass of orange juice and a couple of Tylenol. He drinks it out on the lanai, wondering where things went wrong, how his life had gotten so entirely out of control. Or rather, how he had gotten so out of control.

Yet somehow, it doesn't feel like such a bad thing, after all. Maybe Danny's right. He's got to learn how to let go. He needs to let go of his past, but he's not so sure he can. He needs to figure this all out, figure out what exactly is going on but there's a sound from upstairs--the bathroom door, and the creak of floorboards--Danny's up.

Steve slips back into the kitchen and puts on a pot of coffee, slides a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, and is retrieving the butter from the fridge when Danny pads into the kitchen. His shirt is wrinkled, his cheeks darkened by day-old scruff and his hair is smoothed back into only a vague semblance of order. He looks fantastic.

Steve's heart beats faster as he butters his toast. "Good morning, Danny," he manages in a gruff voice.

"Good morning, Steven." Danny yawns, then runs a hand over his head. "Oooh, coffee." He pours himself a cup, adds a splash of milk, then helps himself to a slice of Steve's toast.

"How're you feeling?" Danny asks, taking a bite of the freshly buttered toast.

"Much better than yesterday. No need to play twenty questions," Steve says quickly. He pours himself a cup of coffee. "Eggs?"

"You making?"

"I'm not letting you make them," Steve says. "It's a crime, Danny, what you do to eggs."

"Okay then. Scrambled please." Danny sits at the table and watches as Steve retrieves the carton of eggs, setting them on the counter before pulling the frying pan from the cabinet. "So, last night--"

"Cheese," Steve says sharply without turning around. "Danny, do you want cheese in your eggs?" He pulls a plate down from the upper cabinet.

"So, we're not talking about it. Why am I not surprised?"

Steve takes a steadying breath, then turns to face Danny, who is sitting at the table, hands folded, his expression turning soft and sympathetic as he reads Steve.

And that is exactly what he's doing, reading Steve, just like he's always done.

"Danny," Steve sighs. He needs time. He needs to think about this. He needs to figure out just where his head is at. He needs to kiss Danny again. "I--"

"Yes, I would like cheese in my eggs." Danny leans back and stirs his coffee with great focus, as if it's the most important task in the universe.

Steve busies himself with the eggs, breaking them into a bowl before beating them vigorously, pouring them out into the pan--on low heat, something he can never convince Danny of--grating the cheese into it just before they are done. He keeps his back to Danny, it's easier if he doesn't look, easier if he doesn't see Danny's face. As the eggs cook he makes more toast, and when everything is done, he turns to bring it to the table but Danny's already there, right behind him.

"Thanks, babe," Danny says with an airiness that doesn't quite work. He takes the plate to the table.

As Danny eats--far too quietly-- Steve washes the frying pan, and his own coffee cup, then wipes down the stove and countertop. He washes up the few remaining cups in the sink from the night before, then rummages around until he finds a dish towel and begins drying the items in the drainer and putting them away.

He's not sure what he's going to do when he runs out of things to clean.

He hears the clatter of a fork hitting a plate, a chair being pushed back. "Excuse me," Danny says, right behind him, empty plate in hand. Steve steps aside and lets Danny put the plate in the sink.

"You know what? Maybe you don't want to talk," Danny says calmly, "but I do, okay? Apparently this is difficult for you to deal with, maybe for a number a reasons. I'm guessing it has to do with your naval career, despite the change in rules--I know old habits die hard. Or maybe you just don't know what you want. But you are making me crazy Steve, by pulling me close and then pushing me away again."

It all hits too close to home. "Danny--"

But Danny talks over him, getting closer, getting right up in Steve's face, much like he always does and he's not quite so calm anymore. "And maybe you aren't even interested in pursuing a more intimate relationship with me, but I don't think it's too much to ask what the hell is going on inside your head. What do you want from me, Steven? What are you so scared of?"

Steve straightens his shoulders. "Scared? You think I'm scared?"

"See, that's the thing. I don't know--you tell me," Danny demands, arms extended.

Steve hates the look in Danny's eyes--sad and desperate and more than a little weary. That's not what Steve wants. That much, at least, he knows for sure.

So he kisses Danny.

It feels a little bit like jumping out of a plane, the same rush of freedom and exhilaration, his heart pounding against his chest. Danny makes an exasperated sound and grabs Steve by the shoulders, kissing him back with a surprising fierceness.

"Okay, then," Danny whispers in a breathy rush of air against Steve's cheek. He kisses Steve's chin, his neck, then nuzzles Steve's collarbone. "So, we're, uh--"

Steve gets his hands under Danny's shirt and onto Danny's back, sliding over strong muscles and sweaty skin. Danny gasps and presses himself flush against Steve, nipping gently at Steve's neck.

Then he steps back, hands pushing flat against Steve's chest. "Do not toy with me, Steven. Don't do this unless you mean it--because if you wake up tomorrow morning and push me away again--"

Steve tries to hold on but the best he can do is grab onto Danny's t-shirt. He realizes he can lift it up over Danny's head so he does, pulling the shirt off of Danny as Danny mutters and wriggles free, emerging breathless and ruffled and indignant.

"Are you listening to me at all, you, you, animal--"

"I love you, Danny."

It's a relief to say it, to get it off his chest.

His words startle Danny, stopping him in mid sentence, eyes widening in surprise. "What?"

"And yes, I know what you are going to say," Steve continues. "I have issues, Danny. I know it. But I promise you, I will not push you away tomorrow."

"Wow." Danny scratches the back of his neck. "You know, I didn't--I didn't expect that."

Steve spreads his hands. "Me, neither?"

"Okay." Danny nods. Then laughs, a happy, almost goofy little laugh that makes Steve's heart soar.

"Okay?" Steve asks. And then Danny's arms are around him, he's kissing Steve again and god, it feels so good. Steve runs his hands down Danny's naked back, his body warm and wonderful and when he palms Danny's ass, Danny moans and pushes closer, hooking an arm around Steve's neck, his kisses growing sloppy and enthusiastic.

"Listen," Danny murmurs, pulling back enough to look Steve in the eye. "At some point we need to have a discussion about your issues, introduce them to my issues--of which there are plenty, yes--but right now, how about we just go with this?"

"I like that idea." Steve kisses Danny again. It's so much better than talking. And discussing. "Can we go with this upstairs in bed?"

"I was going to suggest taking it slow, but clearly, I forgot who I was talking to." Danny backs away and points to the stairs. "Go."

Steve grins and hustles out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his hand on Danny's shoulder the entire time and maybe Danny has a point about taking it slow. But it feels so good to take action, to make a decision and go with it. He wants Danny naked and in his bed and he wants to do everything he should have done before he crept out of the bed this morning.

When they get to the bedroom Steve runs a hand over Danny's wonderfully hairy chest, it's so good to touch, especially after all those days on the beach, watching Danny in his sagging board shorts, exposing those hipbones, much like Danny's pajama bottoms are doing right now. It's a simple thing to tug them down and Danny eagerly assists, stepping free of them and then slipping off his boxers and then he's naked, naked and hard and there's golden brown hair everywhere and Steve loves it, especially the way Danny is grinning, as if being naked is the best thing ever.

"Come on, come on," Danny says, wiggling his fingers at Steve. "I've shown you mine, now you show me yours."

Steve strips off his clothes as Danny backs up onto the bed and watches, eyes hungry and intense. "That's nice, you know that? You, without the clothes. Very nice."

"Nice? You want nice?" Steve asks as he closes in on Danny.

Danny grins as he scoots back on the bed, then reaches out for Steve. "I want everything you've got."

Steve stretches out over Danny and it's breathtaking--the press of naked skin, the warmth of Danny's body, the way he squirms and pushes his hips up against Steve's as they kiss. Steve gets lost in it, kissing Danny everywhere he can reach, his neck, his chin, his forehead, all the while pressing his cock against Danny's hip. He loves the way Danny gasps beneath him, grabbing at his back, his ass, his shoulders, hands sliding across his neck, up into his hair--

"Ow," Steve winces as Danny's hand hits the still-tender bump on his head.

"Shit, oh, shit, sorry, Steve, I forgot--"

"It's fine," Steve assures him, but it's too late, Danny's pushing him back and shaking his head.

"No strenuous exercise, that's what your instructions said," Danny tells him in a stern voice.

"Danny, do not--we are not stopping."

"Do I look like I'm stopping? No, I just want you to take it easy, here just lay back," Danny insists, "I'm driving, okay?"

"Danny," Steve protests.

Danny pushes harder on Steve's shoulders. "Would you just move?"

Steve reluctantly moves off of Danny. He allows Danny to lay him out on the bed, flat on his back with a pillow carefully tucked beneath his head.

"Seriously, Danny?" Steve asks, frowning. He liked things just fine the way they were. He tries to sit up but Danny leans a hand on his chest and pushes him back down. Then bursts out laughing, much to Steve's chagrin.

"Oh my god, look how petulant you are." Danny rubs a thumb over Steve's nipple. "Did you forget you were about to get laid?"

"I like to drive," Steve says, and okay, maybe Danny does have a point, he's a bit of a control freak.

"Me, too." Danny flashes a grin before ducking down and kissing Steve's chest. "Deal with it, babe." He mouths a nipple, licking it before gently scraping his teeth over sensitive skin.

Steve gasps, arching into Danny's touch and now Danny is rubbing a hand down over Steve's stomach, curling briefly around his hip before sliding over his cock and fuck, it's good. Steve moans, bringing his knees up and planting his feet firmly on the bed, moving into Danny's touch, thrusting gently into Danny's fist.

He can deal with this just fine, he discovers.

As Danny nuzzles his neck, Steve reaches down and finds Danny's cock, hard and stiff and sleek and when he squeezes it Danny makes the most fantastic noise against his skin. He rubs his thumb over the head, spreading the wetness and Danny pushes into Steve's hand, then reaches up to kiss Steve, a desperate kiss with a hint of teeth behind it.

"Okay, okay," Danny murmurs and now he's pulling away, sitting back on his heels and Steve rises up and moves with him, reluctant to let him go.

"Jeeze, look at you." Danny mouths Steve's shoulder, then runs his tongue over the tattoo on Steve's arm before reaching down further, his mouth on Steve's stomach. Steve breathes in sharply, Danny's bristly chin is tickling his skin as his mouth moves further down, kissing his hip. Then Danny lifts Steve's leg and slips underneath, settling himself between Steve's thighs. Steve eases back onto his pillow, breathless with anticipation and god, yes, Danny's mouth is on his cock.

Steve moans against the shock of pleasure, lifting his head so he can see, so he can watch Danny slide up the length of his cock and back down again, blonde hair falling over his forehead. It's amazing, it's all the things Steve never dared think about, and now here Danny is, in his bed, sucking his cock.

Danny curls his fist around the base, and pulls back to lick the head, then grins up at Steve. "Been a while, but I think I still remember how this works."

Steve nods dumbly. When Danny's mouth engulfs him again he falls back on the bed, reaching behind to brace his hands against the headboard, it's so fucking good he can barely stand it. Danny's mouth is wonderful, especially when he pushes Steve's legs apart and sucks gently on his balls. Steve can't stop making noise, small whimpering sounds escaping his throat, he has no control over it and he doesn't want to, he just wants Danny to keep on doing what he's doing. The intensity of the pleasure builds and Steve digs his heels into the mattress, trying to hold on, he doesn't want to let go just yet but he can't help himself. He manages a broken warning just before he comes with a fierce rush of pleasure, surging through his body and leaving him breathless and shaken.

Danny climbs up over him, pushing his cock against Steve's sweaty skin and Steve welcomes him with a hug, holding him close, murmuring encouragement in Danny's ear. Danny tucks his face against Steve's neck and thrusts, one hand gripping Steve's hip tightly, the other firmly wrapped around his shoulder and Steve loves the strength he can feel as Danny moves against him, the tension in his muscles, the way Danny whimpers, low and desperate.

"Come on, here, let me," Steve says, easing a hand down between them.

He gets a hand around Danny's cock and squeezes, letting Danny thrust into his fist. With a soft cry Danny comes, shuddering against him and Steve can feel Danny's orgasm rolling through his body, Danny's fingers digging into his skin and Danny's hot breath on his neck.

"Oh, god," Danny says weakly, his body going limp.

Steve grins against Danny's hair and rubs his sweaty back, listening as Danny's breathing slows and steadies.

With a grunt Danny lifts himself and slides off of Steve, onto the mattress beside him. "Oh man, we need to do this all the time," he says.

"Uh huh." Steve rolls onto his side and kisses Danny. He feels a little unsteady, a bit weird. Or maybe he's just relaxed, and more content than he's felt in a long time. He touches Danny's chest, fingers gliding down over Danny's stomach, and onto his hip.

This is Danny next to him, in bed. Danny Williams, naked and smeared with come.

Steve smiles.

"Does that mean we're good?" Danny asks, running a thumb over Steve's lower lip.

"We're good, Danny. We're very good. Maybe even excellent."

A huff of laughter and Danny kisses him. "You start to freak out, you tell me, okay?"

"I promise," Steve says solemnly. He's sure it's going to happen at some point, but right now, it all feels very right. "What about you, huh? Is this working for you?"

"Oh, babe, I freaked out over you a long time ago." Danny gently bumps his forehead against Steve's and kisses him again. Then grunts, leans back and wipes at his stomach with the edge of the sheet. "I'm a mess."

"What else is new?"

Danny laughs, happy and relaxed and Steve loves it.

"And so are you," Danny points out, wiping Steve's stomach clean. "So," he says, pushing the sheet away and snuggling up close, "what are your thoughts on post-coital napping?"

"Pro," Steve replies without hesitation. "Definitely pro-nap."

To Steve's delight, Danny nestles up against him, closes his eyes and promptly falls asleep. His steady breathing is soothing and soon Steve is dozing too.

*****

Steve wakes to a gentle throb of pain in his head. His headache, sneaking back up on him. He should take something for it. He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming into his bedroom and Danny's in his bed again, just like that very same morning. Only this time he's naked, stretched out on his back, one arm flung over his head, filling the bed like he owns it.

Steve grins. He's sure things are going to get more complicated in the future, especially on the job. They have a lot of things to work out but he's got Danny naked in bed beside him, and right now, he can't think of a single downside to it. He reaches over and presses a kiss to Danny's freckled shoulder.

"Hey," Danny says, shifting. He opens his eyes, blinking muzzily at Steve.

Steve laughs. Sleepy Danny is actually pretty damn cute.

Danny frowns and scrubs a hand over his face. "What's so funny?"

"You," Steve says. "You know what you look like?"

Danny shakes his head, expression turning wary.

Steve leans over and kisses him. "You look like you belong."

"Yeah," Danny says with a bright smile. "I do."