Five-0 Fic: BROTHER - S/D, R, Chapter 6/10
Title: Brother
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Characters/Pairing: Danny POV, Steve/Danny
Rating: R
Word Count: ~30,500 Total/This chapter ~3100
Genre: Case fic, Angst, H/C, Team
Spoilers: Through 2.12 for actual spoilers- informed in intent/mood by all episodes through 2.18. 2.19 means there are time stamps in my future, lololol.
Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just commandeering them for a short time and some transformative fiction-
Thank you: very, very much to my thoughtful beta, starlet2367, who read bits out of context for weeks and then read it all over again :-)
A/N: 1) coda for 2.10, missing scenes/coda 2.11- incorporates very minor amount of dialogue from 2.11, written by Melissa Glenn & Jessica Rieder- my intent is that this slides into canon pretty seamlessly. 2) Show drives me crazy for re-naming like real buildings for other real buildings and shit, so although I made an attempt, don't shoot me if you know the actual road names I should be using and I'm not, lolol 3) I only stuck to RL law enforcement/military info as closely as the show does :whistles: 4) If you carry, my opinions aren't necessarily my character's opinions- if you have no idea what I'm talking about, move along, nothing to see here :-)
Summary: Steve's standing right there, but Danny can't reach him.
CHAPTER ONE // CHAPTER TWO // CHAPTER THREE // CHAPTER FOUR // CHAPTER FIVE
*** CHAPTER SIX ***
When all's said and done, there's no paneling left in the cabin and the entire vessel, including the whole stinky hold full of netted fish, has been searched. They've claimed fourteen false bottomed fish crates and one hundred and twelve large bricks full of pretty, pretty pink packaged coke. The DEA's top team leader estimates the street value at maybe $80 million, after being cut. Four HPD officers cart it out after it's inventoried and Steve has signed it into evidence.
Max shows up in person, confirms what's been documented by SIS at the scene, and gives permission for the bodies to be removed. Steve holds a team leaders meeting on the pier before everyone finishes up their duties and starts drifting off. When he comes back to where Danny's standing on the bow with his hands in his pockets, he's talking to the Governor by phone.
“Yes, sir.” He stretches to the side a little, unkinking his back. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I will convey your congratulations to my team.” He nods, chewing on his lower lip, and Danny wonders if he's even aware of the slide of his eyes down Danny's body and back up again. Danny's lips tingle as Steve's gaze catches on them. “Yes, sir.”
He disconnects the call and takes a deep breath, finally meeting Danny's eyes. “The Governor thanks you, Danno.”
Danny can't help but smile back at the easy grin on Steve's face. “You need coffee, babe? You got that Inquiry thing...” He checks his watch. It's ten of seven. “In like two hours.”
“Yeah, I think we're about done here. Let me check with Chin, make sure he's got HPD set with the last of it. Kono and Lori?”
“Finishing up our end at HQ. They should be able to break at noon, get some sleep. We can start plowing through the rest of the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Who's Vargas?”
“Just low level security. HPD took him. I'll make sure there's a copy of his statement on your desk tomorrow.” Pensive, is the word that floats up as Danny watches Steve. “We got the coke, babe. We're done on this one. Let HPD and DEA and CBP hash it out.”
“Okay,” Steve breathes. “Okay.”
“You need coffee, maybe an egg, a shower. You gotta be in uniform, right?”
Steve nods.
Danny dangles his keys. “Give your keys to Chin, babe, and let's go.”
Steve gives him a tight smile and snatches the keys.
***
Danny makes them hard boiled eggs and oatmeal while Steve showers. He pours coffee for Steve when he comes back down, half dressed. They eat standing up and then Danny showers while Steve finishes his spit-polish and makes sure his pins are all on straight.
He looks good. He always looks a little bit different to Danny when he's in uniform. A little taller, a lot more remote. He's a stranger until the laziest, crookedest smile Danny's ever had the privilege to witness breaks like a slow dawn over Steve's face, lighting him up, warming his eyes.
“Like what you see, Danny?”
“My god, you are such an arrogant ass,” Danny says, with an emphasis on 'such'. That just makes Steve actually grin. And god, Danny has to bite his tongue to stop from saying, 'there you are, thank god, I've missed you so much'. “But how is it that you're living with me and not some knockout and ten kids on the ground all ready, anyway?”
His grin only fades a bit, though Danny could kick himself anyway. He opens the door and waves Danny through. “'Cause gun oil and sweat don't carry quite the same appeal as the clean uniform?”
“Ah,“ Danny says as they walk out to the Camaro. “That's the reason? Not, say, the long months when you can't say where you are, or what you're doing, and the stitches and bruises when you show up again?”
Steve shrugs. “Girls dig stitches.”
“Women don't.”
Clutching his chest, Steve collapses into the driver's seat. “Ouch, Danno, that hurt.”
“You goof.”
Steve smiles at him and starts the car. Danny's head hits the seat back when the Camaro fishtails pulling out of the sand onto the pavement and Steve laughs. “You ass,” Danny mutters and reaches for the suicide handle.
He doesn't say anything, just lets Steve blow off steam and his nervousness, weaving in and out of traffic, gunning the RPM's when the lights turn green until he hits ten over the limit and cruises to the next intersection. On the highway, he opens the Camaro up and airs her out. When Danny first saw the tiny wireless radar detector just above the dash where it crouches, barely visible, he had laughed. He still wonders if any other cop with HPD can claim to have such a rigged out personal vehicle.
But there's lines they don't cross. Squiggly lines, sometimes, but still. They don't expect favors if they're speeding off-duty and they don't hit their lights or siren if they aren't on the way to a scene or in pursuit. Danny actually pulls the team's personal ticket histories, both parking and speeding, every quarter and leaves them on Steve's desk. The third quarter, the detectors showed up. Chin's bike's the most sophisticated and the only one with a jammer.
Danny sometimes can't believe his good fortune in ending up in this God-forsaken place a whole universe away from where he kind of thought he'd always live. He's never had wanderlust. He's happy to listen to Steve talk about Bangkok and Chin regale them with stories from his odd summer spent in Moscow and Poland, and Kono's dreamy soliloquies about surfing the Great Barrier Reef, but listening doesn't inspire him to go see for himself. He guesses he's just not built that way.
Steve's uniform has been in way more countries than Danny ever pretends he'll see in his entire lifetime. His glimpses of Seoul were all he needed to ever know of Korea. It was hot and sticky. At least Honolulu has the good grace of location to catch a breeze off the ocean.
Downshifting hard onto the off ramp, Steve's hands are sure on the wheel and the gear shift. He eases them out onto Punchbowl. The traffic's pretty heavy. They doddle along behind an old Daytona for a few minutes before turning onto King Street and the Palace comes into view.
“You gonna be okay?” Danny asks.
He doesn't think he's going to respond, but then Steve flicks a glance over, lets it bounce back to the road. “Yeah, Danny. I'll be fine. Just put out whatever paperwork fires you have to today and then take off, okay?”
Th truck's parked in front of HQ and Danny notices Steve's shoulders drop incrementally when he sees it. The chicks are all in the barn and accounted for; their role in the case is done; it's Friday and after the Inquiry wraps up, it looks like they might have a free weekend. Danny resolves to cancel his date with Gabby and have steaks and cold beer waiting for Steve when he gets home.
“Keep the car, I'll take your truck,” he says.
Steve pulls up in front to let Danny out, but Danny can see he's worried about something. He doesn't open his door, just waits to see what Steve's working up to saying.
“I've never lied before, Danny.”
Danny's breath catches in his throat and he has to think to finish breathing in. He lets it back out slow, not sure what to say.
“I've omitted certain circumstances, even a person or two. But I've never lied in a debriefing when asked a direct question. They've asked me three times now about SEAL Team Nine, about Wade Gutches. They know we were in Seoul at the same time. Gutches did a good job with the R and R cover, got them noticed, they all used their credit cards. But...” He closes his eyes, presses the heel of his hand to his forehead.
“You've done good, Steve. They weren't SEALS that day. They weren't working for the government. They were just guys on vacation and they did us, you and me, and Chin, and Kono, and Lori, a favor. They repaid a debt they felt they owed you. You are not lying when you say we had no active duty military back-up. All we had were friends with skills and contacts. They are our friends and they helped us get you back.”
“That's just semantics.”
“Se... semantics? Now you know what semantics means? You are the king of semantics! You and I both know that no matter how much I jerk your chain you only break the rules because you know them inside and out! C'mon, Steve, are you kidding me? How is this any different than blowing that pawn shop door with a grenade due to imminent destruction of evidence or reporting reasonable use of psychological persuasion without physical or lasting mental harm to protect innocent life or well-being when we dangle someone off a roof or tie them to a car hood? For Christ's sake, how is it different than stealing ten million dollars to save Chin's life?”
“Nobody ever asked me directly if I stole that money. Not the governor, not IA.”
“You're missing the point here, babe.”
Steve sighs and lifts his head to look out his window, away from Danny. Above the crisp collar of his uniform jacket, the long line of his throat is taut when he swallows hard. The double gold leaves of Steve's rank draws Danny's attention. He forgets how long Steve served at others' command. He has no doubt men died under Steve's command and that Steve entered every deadly conflict knowing he might die under command, that there were situations and people deemed more important than himself.
“Your life, Steven, is worth the same as every innocent life you've ever saved.”
“I'm not an innocent, Danny.”
“You're not. You're a goddamn hero. Your friends and your ohana think you're worth risking their necks and freedom for; Joe thinks you're worth losing his military career. You're not lying, Steve, when you keep SEAL Team Nine out of it, you're protecting them from Wo Fat.” And holy shit, he so does not know why he just said that, but it's kind of true. Without any written report of their involvement, Wo Fat has no way of knowing who helped Five-0 strip Steve away from him. There's no audio or video in existence to help him.
Steve straightens in his seat, his jaw firming, and finally faces Danny. “That's true. We've managed to slow him down a little, but I have no doubt he'll eventually get access to the Inquiry Board reports, maybe even the NCIS statements.”
“But the investigation into SEALs on R and R won't be linked without corroboration from any of us.”
Steve nods. “Thanks, Danny.”
Danny pulls the door handle and shoves the passenger door open. “See you later?” Like it's a question, but Danny doesn't seem to have a thought process right now.
“Yeah, see you later.”
Hands in his pockets, Danny watches him pull away, only becoming aware of Chin standing next to him once Steve's out of the lot and accelerating down King.
“He'll do fine, brah,” Chin says.
“I know. Feel like coffee?”
Chin grins at him. “Just where I was going. Paperwork's elbow deep up there. Want to come?”
“Love to.”
***
After sending Lori and Kono home at noon, Danny picks at Cheetos and and a stale sandwich from the multi-agency leftovers in the break room while he reviews their paperwork and writes his initial reports. He finishes the follow-up on the raids at Ackers Machine and the drug house in Kaimuki and checks in on where HPD is at with Curtis Maywood. He strolls down with Chin to Holding on their way out around three to put eyes on Kamiya, their little sniper friend. Lori discovered his connection to a case they wrapped eight months ago. His auntie lives in the condos and it was pure coincidence he noticed Steve walking in. For now, there's enough to hold him through the weekend without bail. All Danny really wants is two days of quiet.
He shares a fist bump with Chin in the parking lot, kind of wishing he could steal Chin's bike instead of clambering up into Steve's truck. He wants to drive fast, with all the windows down, but settles for trundling along, the fan on the AC turned all the way up. Catching sight of two kids on bikes, he glances at his watch. Grace's tennis lesson starts at three-thirty, and he can catch the last twenty minutes if he goes straight there.
“Danno!” Grace yelps when she spots him beyond the chain link.
“Hey, Monkey!” he calls back.
The instructor is a kid named Kye. Danny ran a background check on him and knows that although he looks twelve, he's actually twenty-six, married with child, pays his bills and mortgage on time, and has not so much as a speeding ticket to his name. “Aloha, Detective Williams,” he says.
“Kye.”
“We have a few minutes left in Grace's lesson.”
“Is it all right if I watch?”
Kye defers to Grace and she nods eagerly.
Danny parks his butt on the bench built into the rock retaining wall that runs along the courts. He's never played tennis, but Gracie likes it and he can see how much she's improved in the couple of months since he and Steve stopped in last. He can feel Rachel before he looks up and sees her hesitating on the stairs above him. He smiles at her and she tilts her head before saying his name in that soft way that pinches his heart.
“Is everything all right?” she continues, coming to sit beside him. Her belly proceeds her, larger than just last week, he's sure. She's carrying low and he wants to lay his hand on her, feel the firm roundness he can see, knowing there's life stirring just under her skin, wanting to feel it shift against his palm, but he resists, fisting his hand instead.
His lips twist and he fights to make it a crooked smile instead of a grimace. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out low and weak, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Just tired. Long night.”
Her wide, dark eyes scrutinize his face. He turns his head and concentrates on Grace.
“She's getting better,” he comments and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Hmmm,” Rachel responds. “She enjoys it. She's started playing matches on Thursdays. The Club team.”
“That's good,” Danny murmurs. He's glad Grace has plans with friends tonight. He swallows hard when it occurs to him he needs tonight alone with Steve. Needs it like he needs food or sleep.
They sit companionably in silence until Gracie's done and then he tucks them both into Rachel's car and waves them off. He fails at trying not to think of them laughing with Stan over dinner, Stan and Grace taking the dog out to play while Rachel goes up to draw a bath. How if he were there, he'd scoop ice cream for Grace when they came back in and then slip upstairs to soak in the sight of Rachel in the tub. Kneel beside her and fill the pitcher she keeps there with warm water and spill it over the curves of her back and breasts and belly. Run his hands over her rounded skin, that tiny beating heart below.
***
Dusk has set in by the time Danny hears his car in the drive. He doesn't shift from his chair in the sand, but his stomach swirls over on itself. He wants to ignore it, but it's like his body hones in on the anticipation of Steve's arrival, which just strikes him as ridiculous and stupid. Gulls are fighting over a scrap of something down the beach and a breeze has kicked up, licking the dampness from his heated skin.
It takes longer than he expects for Steve to make his way outside. When he finally hears the screen door and Steve's step on the tiles of the lanai, he takes a long swallow of his warm beer and then dips a cold bottle out of the bucket between the chairs and holds it up.
Steve takes it, but doesn't open it. “Come running with me.”
Danny grunts without thinking; it bursts from the back of his throat. Running? Really? Steve's thrumming with pent-up energy, but exhaustion is hollowing his cheeks and eyes and he's staring down at the sand, like he already knows what Danny's going to say. And he can feel those words forming, backing up in his mouth, pressing against his lips. He swallows them down, but doesn't trust himself, so he just nods. He's standing before he manages to wrangle his traitor voice into submission. “Give me a sec.”
Steve closes his eyes, pathetically grateful, and Danny knows he chose the best path. He goes inside and changes into shorts and laces on his sneakers. At least this way, he can control the length of the run, get Steve back before he kills any appetite he might have after his long day. The steaks are marinating in a tried and true concoction that Danny hasn't bothered making since he left Jersey. He wants to watch Steve's face when he tastes it. Shit, he just wants Steve to eat it, period. But he'll like it, Danny knows he will.
Steve's standing in the same spot when he gets back to him, but he's drained his beer and set the bottle down next to Danny's half-empty. They are leaning in the sand, propping each other up and Danny shakes his head at the irony.
“C'mon, Superman, let's tire you out,” he says, striding past Steve without stopping.
Steve shakes himself, reminding Danny vividly of Mrs. Lapkowski's lanky Irish Setter mix, and follows him down to the firmer sand of the tide line.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Characters/Pairing: Danny POV, Steve/Danny
Rating: R
Word Count: ~30,500 Total/This chapter ~3100
Genre: Case fic, Angst, H/C, Team
Spoilers: Through 2.12 for actual spoilers- informed in intent/mood by all episodes through 2.18. 2.19 means there are time stamps in my future, lololol.
Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just commandeering them for a short time and some transformative fiction-
Thank you: very, very much to my thoughtful beta, starlet2367, who read bits out of context for weeks and then read it all over again :-)
A/N: 1) coda for 2.10, missing scenes/coda 2.11- incorporates very minor amount of dialogue from 2.11, written by Melissa Glenn & Jessica Rieder- my intent is that this slides into canon pretty seamlessly. 2) Show drives me crazy for re-naming like real buildings for other real buildings and shit, so although I made an attempt, don't shoot me if you know the actual road names I should be using and I'm not, lolol 3) I only stuck to RL law enforcement/military info as closely as the show does :whistles: 4) If you carry, my opinions aren't necessarily my character's opinions- if you have no idea what I'm talking about, move along, nothing to see here :-)
Summary: Steve's standing right there, but Danny can't reach him.
CHAPTER ONE // CHAPTER TWO // CHAPTER THREE // CHAPTER FOUR // CHAPTER FIVE
*** CHAPTER SIX ***
When all's said and done, there's no paneling left in the cabin and the entire vessel, including the whole stinky hold full of netted fish, has been searched. They've claimed fourteen false bottomed fish crates and one hundred and twelve large bricks full of pretty, pretty pink packaged coke. The DEA's top team leader estimates the street value at maybe $80 million, after being cut. Four HPD officers cart it out after it's inventoried and Steve has signed it into evidence.
Max shows up in person, confirms what's been documented by SIS at the scene, and gives permission for the bodies to be removed. Steve holds a team leaders meeting on the pier before everyone finishes up their duties and starts drifting off. When he comes back to where Danny's standing on the bow with his hands in his pockets, he's talking to the Governor by phone.
“Yes, sir.” He stretches to the side a little, unkinking his back. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I will convey your congratulations to my team.” He nods, chewing on his lower lip, and Danny wonders if he's even aware of the slide of his eyes down Danny's body and back up again. Danny's lips tingle as Steve's gaze catches on them. “Yes, sir.”
He disconnects the call and takes a deep breath, finally meeting Danny's eyes. “The Governor thanks you, Danno.”
Danny can't help but smile back at the easy grin on Steve's face. “You need coffee, babe? You got that Inquiry thing...” He checks his watch. It's ten of seven. “In like two hours.”
“Yeah, I think we're about done here. Let me check with Chin, make sure he's got HPD set with the last of it. Kono and Lori?”
“Finishing up our end at HQ. They should be able to break at noon, get some sleep. We can start plowing through the rest of the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Who's Vargas?”
“Just low level security. HPD took him. I'll make sure there's a copy of his statement on your desk tomorrow.” Pensive, is the word that floats up as Danny watches Steve. “We got the coke, babe. We're done on this one. Let HPD and DEA and CBP hash it out.”
“Okay,” Steve breathes. “Okay.”
“You need coffee, maybe an egg, a shower. You gotta be in uniform, right?”
Steve nods.
Danny dangles his keys. “Give your keys to Chin, babe, and let's go.”
Steve gives him a tight smile and snatches the keys.
***
Danny makes them hard boiled eggs and oatmeal while Steve showers. He pours coffee for Steve when he comes back down, half dressed. They eat standing up and then Danny showers while Steve finishes his spit-polish and makes sure his pins are all on straight.
He looks good. He always looks a little bit different to Danny when he's in uniform. A little taller, a lot more remote. He's a stranger until the laziest, crookedest smile Danny's ever had the privilege to witness breaks like a slow dawn over Steve's face, lighting him up, warming his eyes.
“Like what you see, Danny?”
“My god, you are such an arrogant ass,” Danny says, with an emphasis on 'such'. That just makes Steve actually grin. And god, Danny has to bite his tongue to stop from saying, 'there you are, thank god, I've missed you so much'. “But how is it that you're living with me and not some knockout and ten kids on the ground all ready, anyway?”
His grin only fades a bit, though Danny could kick himself anyway. He opens the door and waves Danny through. “'Cause gun oil and sweat don't carry quite the same appeal as the clean uniform?”
“Ah,“ Danny says as they walk out to the Camaro. “That's the reason? Not, say, the long months when you can't say where you are, or what you're doing, and the stitches and bruises when you show up again?”
Steve shrugs. “Girls dig stitches.”
“Women don't.”
Clutching his chest, Steve collapses into the driver's seat. “Ouch, Danno, that hurt.”
“You goof.”
Steve smiles at him and starts the car. Danny's head hits the seat back when the Camaro fishtails pulling out of the sand onto the pavement and Steve laughs. “You ass,” Danny mutters and reaches for the suicide handle.
He doesn't say anything, just lets Steve blow off steam and his nervousness, weaving in and out of traffic, gunning the RPM's when the lights turn green until he hits ten over the limit and cruises to the next intersection. On the highway, he opens the Camaro up and airs her out. When Danny first saw the tiny wireless radar detector just above the dash where it crouches, barely visible, he had laughed. He still wonders if any other cop with HPD can claim to have such a rigged out personal vehicle.
But there's lines they don't cross. Squiggly lines, sometimes, but still. They don't expect favors if they're speeding off-duty and they don't hit their lights or siren if they aren't on the way to a scene or in pursuit. Danny actually pulls the team's personal ticket histories, both parking and speeding, every quarter and leaves them on Steve's desk. The third quarter, the detectors showed up. Chin's bike's the most sophisticated and the only one with a jammer.
Danny sometimes can't believe his good fortune in ending up in this God-forsaken place a whole universe away from where he kind of thought he'd always live. He's never had wanderlust. He's happy to listen to Steve talk about Bangkok and Chin regale them with stories from his odd summer spent in Moscow and Poland, and Kono's dreamy soliloquies about surfing the Great Barrier Reef, but listening doesn't inspire him to go see for himself. He guesses he's just not built that way.
Steve's uniform has been in way more countries than Danny ever pretends he'll see in his entire lifetime. His glimpses of Seoul were all he needed to ever know of Korea. It was hot and sticky. At least Honolulu has the good grace of location to catch a breeze off the ocean.
Downshifting hard onto the off ramp, Steve's hands are sure on the wheel and the gear shift. He eases them out onto Punchbowl. The traffic's pretty heavy. They doddle along behind an old Daytona for a few minutes before turning onto King Street and the Palace comes into view.
“You gonna be okay?” Danny asks.
He doesn't think he's going to respond, but then Steve flicks a glance over, lets it bounce back to the road. “Yeah, Danny. I'll be fine. Just put out whatever paperwork fires you have to today and then take off, okay?”
Th truck's parked in front of HQ and Danny notices Steve's shoulders drop incrementally when he sees it. The chicks are all in the barn and accounted for; their role in the case is done; it's Friday and after the Inquiry wraps up, it looks like they might have a free weekend. Danny resolves to cancel his date with Gabby and have steaks and cold beer waiting for Steve when he gets home.
“Keep the car, I'll take your truck,” he says.
Steve pulls up in front to let Danny out, but Danny can see he's worried about something. He doesn't open his door, just waits to see what Steve's working up to saying.
“I've never lied before, Danny.”
Danny's breath catches in his throat and he has to think to finish breathing in. He lets it back out slow, not sure what to say.
“I've omitted certain circumstances, even a person or two. But I've never lied in a debriefing when asked a direct question. They've asked me three times now about SEAL Team Nine, about Wade Gutches. They know we were in Seoul at the same time. Gutches did a good job with the R and R cover, got them noticed, they all used their credit cards. But...” He closes his eyes, presses the heel of his hand to his forehead.
“You've done good, Steve. They weren't SEALS that day. They weren't working for the government. They were just guys on vacation and they did us, you and me, and Chin, and Kono, and Lori, a favor. They repaid a debt they felt they owed you. You are not lying when you say we had no active duty military back-up. All we had were friends with skills and contacts. They are our friends and they helped us get you back.”
“That's just semantics.”
“Se... semantics? Now you know what semantics means? You are the king of semantics! You and I both know that no matter how much I jerk your chain you only break the rules because you know them inside and out! C'mon, Steve, are you kidding me? How is this any different than blowing that pawn shop door with a grenade due to imminent destruction of evidence or reporting reasonable use of psychological persuasion without physical or lasting mental harm to protect innocent life or well-being when we dangle someone off a roof or tie them to a car hood? For Christ's sake, how is it different than stealing ten million dollars to save Chin's life?”
“Nobody ever asked me directly if I stole that money. Not the governor, not IA.”
“You're missing the point here, babe.”
Steve sighs and lifts his head to look out his window, away from Danny. Above the crisp collar of his uniform jacket, the long line of his throat is taut when he swallows hard. The double gold leaves of Steve's rank draws Danny's attention. He forgets how long Steve served at others' command. He has no doubt men died under Steve's command and that Steve entered every deadly conflict knowing he might die under command, that there were situations and people deemed more important than himself.
“Your life, Steven, is worth the same as every innocent life you've ever saved.”
“I'm not an innocent, Danny.”
“You're not. You're a goddamn hero. Your friends and your ohana think you're worth risking their necks and freedom for; Joe thinks you're worth losing his military career. You're not lying, Steve, when you keep SEAL Team Nine out of it, you're protecting them from Wo Fat.” And holy shit, he so does not know why he just said that, but it's kind of true. Without any written report of their involvement, Wo Fat has no way of knowing who helped Five-0 strip Steve away from him. There's no audio or video in existence to help him.
Steve straightens in his seat, his jaw firming, and finally faces Danny. “That's true. We've managed to slow him down a little, but I have no doubt he'll eventually get access to the Inquiry Board reports, maybe even the NCIS statements.”
“But the investigation into SEALs on R and R won't be linked without corroboration from any of us.”
Steve nods. “Thanks, Danny.”
Danny pulls the door handle and shoves the passenger door open. “See you later?” Like it's a question, but Danny doesn't seem to have a thought process right now.
“Yeah, see you later.”
Hands in his pockets, Danny watches him pull away, only becoming aware of Chin standing next to him once Steve's out of the lot and accelerating down King.
“He'll do fine, brah,” Chin says.
“I know. Feel like coffee?”
Chin grins at him. “Just where I was going. Paperwork's elbow deep up there. Want to come?”
“Love to.”
***
After sending Lori and Kono home at noon, Danny picks at Cheetos and and a stale sandwich from the multi-agency leftovers in the break room while he reviews their paperwork and writes his initial reports. He finishes the follow-up on the raids at Ackers Machine and the drug house in Kaimuki and checks in on where HPD is at with Curtis Maywood. He strolls down with Chin to Holding on their way out around three to put eyes on Kamiya, their little sniper friend. Lori discovered his connection to a case they wrapped eight months ago. His auntie lives in the condos and it was pure coincidence he noticed Steve walking in. For now, there's enough to hold him through the weekend without bail. All Danny really wants is two days of quiet.
He shares a fist bump with Chin in the parking lot, kind of wishing he could steal Chin's bike instead of clambering up into Steve's truck. He wants to drive fast, with all the windows down, but settles for trundling along, the fan on the AC turned all the way up. Catching sight of two kids on bikes, he glances at his watch. Grace's tennis lesson starts at three-thirty, and he can catch the last twenty minutes if he goes straight there.
“Danno!” Grace yelps when she spots him beyond the chain link.
“Hey, Monkey!” he calls back.
The instructor is a kid named Kye. Danny ran a background check on him and knows that although he looks twelve, he's actually twenty-six, married with child, pays his bills and mortgage on time, and has not so much as a speeding ticket to his name. “Aloha, Detective Williams,” he says.
“Kye.”
“We have a few minutes left in Grace's lesson.”
“Is it all right if I watch?”
Kye defers to Grace and she nods eagerly.
Danny parks his butt on the bench built into the rock retaining wall that runs along the courts. He's never played tennis, but Gracie likes it and he can see how much she's improved in the couple of months since he and Steve stopped in last. He can feel Rachel before he looks up and sees her hesitating on the stairs above him. He smiles at her and she tilts her head before saying his name in that soft way that pinches his heart.
“Is everything all right?” she continues, coming to sit beside him. Her belly proceeds her, larger than just last week, he's sure. She's carrying low and he wants to lay his hand on her, feel the firm roundness he can see, knowing there's life stirring just under her skin, wanting to feel it shift against his palm, but he resists, fisting his hand instead.
His lips twist and he fights to make it a crooked smile instead of a grimace. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out low and weak, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Just tired. Long night.”
Her wide, dark eyes scrutinize his face. He turns his head and concentrates on Grace.
“She's getting better,” he comments and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Hmmm,” Rachel responds. “She enjoys it. She's started playing matches on Thursdays. The Club team.”
“That's good,” Danny murmurs. He's glad Grace has plans with friends tonight. He swallows hard when it occurs to him he needs tonight alone with Steve. Needs it like he needs food or sleep.
They sit companionably in silence until Gracie's done and then he tucks them both into Rachel's car and waves them off. He fails at trying not to think of them laughing with Stan over dinner, Stan and Grace taking the dog out to play while Rachel goes up to draw a bath. How if he were there, he'd scoop ice cream for Grace when they came back in and then slip upstairs to soak in the sight of Rachel in the tub. Kneel beside her and fill the pitcher she keeps there with warm water and spill it over the curves of her back and breasts and belly. Run his hands over her rounded skin, that tiny beating heart below.
***
Dusk has set in by the time Danny hears his car in the drive. He doesn't shift from his chair in the sand, but his stomach swirls over on itself. He wants to ignore it, but it's like his body hones in on the anticipation of Steve's arrival, which just strikes him as ridiculous and stupid. Gulls are fighting over a scrap of something down the beach and a breeze has kicked up, licking the dampness from his heated skin.
It takes longer than he expects for Steve to make his way outside. When he finally hears the screen door and Steve's step on the tiles of the lanai, he takes a long swallow of his warm beer and then dips a cold bottle out of the bucket between the chairs and holds it up.
Steve takes it, but doesn't open it. “Come running with me.”
Danny grunts without thinking; it bursts from the back of his throat. Running? Really? Steve's thrumming with pent-up energy, but exhaustion is hollowing his cheeks and eyes and he's staring down at the sand, like he already knows what Danny's going to say. And he can feel those words forming, backing up in his mouth, pressing against his lips. He swallows them down, but doesn't trust himself, so he just nods. He's standing before he manages to wrangle his traitor voice into submission. “Give me a sec.”
Steve closes his eyes, pathetically grateful, and Danny knows he chose the best path. He goes inside and changes into shorts and laces on his sneakers. At least this way, he can control the length of the run, get Steve back before he kills any appetite he might have after his long day. The steaks are marinating in a tried and true concoction that Danny hasn't bothered making since he left Jersey. He wants to watch Steve's face when he tastes it. Shit, he just wants Steve to eat it, period. But he'll like it, Danny knows he will.
Steve's standing in the same spot when he gets back to him, but he's drained his beer and set the bottle down next to Danny's half-empty. They are leaning in the sand, propping each other up and Danny shakes his head at the irony.
“C'mon, Superman, let's tire you out,” he says, striding past Steve without stopping.
Steve shakes himself, reminding Danny vividly of Mrs. Lapkowski's lanky Irish Setter mix, and follows him down to the firmer sand of the tide line.
CHAPTER SEVEN