Fic: Bury My Heart
Title: Bury My Heart
Author: shao-fu
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: PG
Words: 1700
Spoilers: None
Originally posted to kissemdanno
Danny was sitting on the exam table waiting for the roof to fall in. The doctor had tutted and frowned over his knee and Danny knew there was yet another lecture in the offing. He had no defense - unless you could call having Steve McGarrett as a partner some sort of excuse for the havoc being wreaked on his knee on a regular basis - and he waited for the inevitable as patiently as he could. Even he could tell the knee appeared in really bad shape and he did not need to look at it to see the swelling because he could damn well feel it throbbing. Still, he stared at it, refusing to look up when the doctor left. He did not want to get off the table and put weight on his leg because the throbbing would then evolve into the grinding pain again and he was tired of it. He heard footsteps approaching but still did not take his eyes from the soccer ball that was once his knee joint. Instead, he launched into a mini rant, hoping to avert the lecture after all.
“I know, I know,” he started. “Rest, ice, painkillers, no unnecessary exertion, use the cane for at least a week, two if possible. I know you won’t believe me but it’s not my fault! How do you expect me to rest when I have a crazy partner who thinks nothing of jumping off cliffs or pursuing suspects on foot even when there are other, faster, more convenient ways to catch them, huh? The man is insane and I have the misfortune to be his partner; I have to have his back when he goes off half-cocked and that entails following him through terrain even an armored vehicle would have trouble with. If you can answer this dilemma for me, then you can lecture me; otherwise, can you just give me a prescription and let me out of here? Please?”
“Um - Danno?” Danny looked up and saw Steve leaning in the doorway; there was no sign of the doctor and Danny felt the heat of an ugly red flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. Steve looked stunned, his shocked eyes dropping from Danny’s face to his knee. He winced and said, “That doesn’t look good.”
“It’s not good, genius,” Danny snapped back, embarrassment making him sharper than usual. He did’t care about ranting at Steve or even in front of him, but to rant about him to someone else when he wasn’t in the room, that was embarrassing. “It is as far from good as it could possibly be and I am holding you personally responsible for the damage to my mobility, not to mention the pain and suffering!”
“Pain and suf - what? Aw, c’mon, Danno, you tripped; it wasn’t my fault!”
“And how do you reckon that? Would I have tripped if we had stayed in the car like normal, sensible human beings instead of leaping around like mountain goats? Would I be contemplating spending my old age as a cripple in a wheelchair if you could just for once follow normal procedure and not always have to behave like a comic superhero?”
“I don’t; I wouldn’t! And I don’t think it’s funny, Danny.”
“Funny? Funny? Who said anything about it being funny?” Danny’s voice was getting louder.
“You just did,” Steve said and Danny groaned and clutched at his head in desperation.
“I. Did. Not. Why, how could you possibly imagine I would think any of this was funny?”
Steve was rescued by the doctor’s return and Danny had to listen to the lecture after all, made even more galling by the doctor requesting Steve to keep an eye on him to make sure he did not over exert himself.
“That’s like asking - oh, I dunno - I cannot think of a suitable simile right now - but it is the worst idea ever!”
“I’ll take care of him, doc,” Steve said quietly, ignoring Danny’s spluttering. The doctor smiled, handed Steve a scrip and left.
“Stay there,” Steve said urgently . “I’m going to the pharmacy and then I will be right back to drive you home. Promise me you will stay put.” Danny was somewhat taken aback by Steve’s intensity.
“I’ll be here,” he said, more gently than he intended, but recovered and added, “It’s not like I can walk anywhere!” Steve grinned and ducked his head to hide it, turned and left at great speed. Danny heard a crash and a muttered apology and groaned loudly. He decided to lie down on the exam table and wait for death, the apocalypse, or Steve’s return, whichever disaster happened first.
***
Steve drove Danny to his house. Danny opened his mouth to protest loudly and vociferously but Steve held up a hand and said quickly,
“Hear me out before you say no. You need decent rest, not on that terrible pull-out bed in your apartment, which is on the second floor, which means stairs and you shouldn’t be climbing stairs all the time. We can either get you upstairs to the guestroom one time and you can stay there, or I can make up the couch for you. It’s really, really comfortable, Danny, much better than your bed. And I’ll be around to take care of you until the swelling goes down and you can manage a bit better.” He had that look on his face, the half-determined, half-pleading expression that Danny had only seen twice before; with Mary when he was trying to persuade her to leave for her own safety and with Gracie when he wanted to tag along with them one Saturday for some absurd reason. Danny rolled his eyes.
“Oh, God, what’s with the face? You’re giving me that face, McGarrett and I just want you to know that I am impervious to it and to all your blandishments. You cannot reasonably expect me to stay here with you until my knee heals; that’s what, two weeks at best, probably more!”
“Why not?” Steve demanded, his mouth turning down until he was almost pouting. “It’s a better idea than you trying to manage on your own.” Inspiration struck. “And besides,” Steve delivered the coup de grace with the beginnings of a smirk, “the doctor asked me to take care of you.”
“He had no idea what he was asking,” Danny spluttered. “Or should I say whom? If he had any clue just how dangerous you are . . .”
Steve got out of the car and walked round to open the passenger door.
“. . . not to mention getting shot at on a regular basis!”
“You finished?” Steve asked, holding out a hand to help Danny out of the car. Danny automatically grasped it and struggled to his feet.
“And what about the grenades?” Danny continued as they headed towards the house.
“What about the grenades?” Steve asked, opening the door and helping Danny up the step and into the living room.
“The grenades you keep handy in the glove compartment of my car.” Danny let Steve ease him down onto the couch and sat back with a sigh of relief, allowing his eyes to close briefly until his knee stopped throbbing. When he reopened them, Steve was standing over him with a glass of water in one hand and two white pills in the other. Danny took them without a word, washing the pills down and draining the glass while Steve produced a couple of pillows, apparently out of thin air. They looked very inviting and Danny swiveled around so that his head could take advantage of their downy softness. His left leg tucked itself along the back of the couch cushions with ease but his right one stayed stubbornly bent, his foot still on the floor at an uncomfortable angle as his knee locked, excruciating pain radiating in all directions.
“Shit,” Danny groaned softly and Steve immediately dropped to his knees, lifted Danny’s leg gently and positioned it on the couch. Danny took a couple of shallow breaths and then realised Steve was still on the floor beside him, watching him intently.
“Stop showing off,” Danny muttered. “There is absolutely no reason for you to be kneeling on the floor right now and I don’t need to be reminded that I might never be able to do that again with any degree of comfort.” Steve’s face was very close to his.
“Oh, for God’s sake, McGarrett, will you please get up and stop hovering! I’m okay, I’m fine, really I am.” Steve’s eyes were so close that Danny saw the tiny flicker of hurt when he snapped at him. He was finding it hard to focus so he looked down but now all he could see were Steve’s lips. They looked a little dry, chapped by the constant exposure to sun, wind and water, and then Steve’s tongue slid over them, leaving them moist and inviting. Danny groaned but this time it had nothing to do with his knee. His hand slipped around the back of Steve’s neck. He made a valiant effort and declared,
“I want you to understand that I am under the influence of drugs.” Steve just smiled at him; the rare, open, beautiful smile that made Danny catch his breath. He pulled Steve closer, his fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
“When did you let your hair grow?” Danny asked. “How come I never noticed?”
“Danno,” Steve said, so close now that Danny could feel his breath tickling the corners of his mouth.
“What?” he whispered, too close to speak any louder.
“Shut up.”
Steve leaned in closer and his lips moved gently over Danny’s. Someone sighed, maybe both of them, and Danny’s fingers curled tighter as he opened up and pulled Steve in and then there was only moist heat, a hint of coffee and an indefinable something that tasted oh so good. When Steve finally pulled back a little, Danny held on. He could feel Steve smile because his eyes were closed and he felt himself drifting hazily.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere,” Steve murmured and Danny let himself give in.
“Stupid knee,” he slurred, almost asleep. “Very good drugs, though. Nice dream, best kiss ever . . .”
Author: shao-fu
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: PG
Words: 1700
Spoilers: None
Originally posted to kissemdanno
Danny was sitting on the exam table waiting for the roof to fall in. The doctor had tutted and frowned over his knee and Danny knew there was yet another lecture in the offing. He had no defense - unless you could call having Steve McGarrett as a partner some sort of excuse for the havoc being wreaked on his knee on a regular basis - and he waited for the inevitable as patiently as he could. Even he could tell the knee appeared in really bad shape and he did not need to look at it to see the swelling because he could damn well feel it throbbing. Still, he stared at it, refusing to look up when the doctor left. He did not want to get off the table and put weight on his leg because the throbbing would then evolve into the grinding pain again and he was tired of it. He heard footsteps approaching but still did not take his eyes from the soccer ball that was once his knee joint. Instead, he launched into a mini rant, hoping to avert the lecture after all.
“I know, I know,” he started. “Rest, ice, painkillers, no unnecessary exertion, use the cane for at least a week, two if possible. I know you won’t believe me but it’s not my fault! How do you expect me to rest when I have a crazy partner who thinks nothing of jumping off cliffs or pursuing suspects on foot even when there are other, faster, more convenient ways to catch them, huh? The man is insane and I have the misfortune to be his partner; I have to have his back when he goes off half-cocked and that entails following him through terrain even an armored vehicle would have trouble with. If you can answer this dilemma for me, then you can lecture me; otherwise, can you just give me a prescription and let me out of here? Please?”
“Um - Danno?” Danny looked up and saw Steve leaning in the doorway; there was no sign of the doctor and Danny felt the heat of an ugly red flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. Steve looked stunned, his shocked eyes dropping from Danny’s face to his knee. He winced and said, “That doesn’t look good.”
“It’s not good, genius,” Danny snapped back, embarrassment making him sharper than usual. He did’t care about ranting at Steve or even in front of him, but to rant about him to someone else when he wasn’t in the room, that was embarrassing. “It is as far from good as it could possibly be and I am holding you personally responsible for the damage to my mobility, not to mention the pain and suffering!”
“Pain and suf - what? Aw, c’mon, Danno, you tripped; it wasn’t my fault!”
“And how do you reckon that? Would I have tripped if we had stayed in the car like normal, sensible human beings instead of leaping around like mountain goats? Would I be contemplating spending my old age as a cripple in a wheelchair if you could just for once follow normal procedure and not always have to behave like a comic superhero?”
“I don’t; I wouldn’t! And I don’t think it’s funny, Danny.”
“Funny? Funny? Who said anything about it being funny?” Danny’s voice was getting louder.
“You just did,” Steve said and Danny groaned and clutched at his head in desperation.
“I. Did. Not. Why, how could you possibly imagine I would think any of this was funny?”
Steve was rescued by the doctor’s return and Danny had to listen to the lecture after all, made even more galling by the doctor requesting Steve to keep an eye on him to make sure he did not over exert himself.
“That’s like asking - oh, I dunno - I cannot think of a suitable simile right now - but it is the worst idea ever!”
“I’ll take care of him, doc,” Steve said quietly, ignoring Danny’s spluttering. The doctor smiled, handed Steve a scrip and left.
“Stay there,” Steve said urgently . “I’m going to the pharmacy and then I will be right back to drive you home. Promise me you will stay put.” Danny was somewhat taken aback by Steve’s intensity.
“I’ll be here,” he said, more gently than he intended, but recovered and added, “It’s not like I can walk anywhere!” Steve grinned and ducked his head to hide it, turned and left at great speed. Danny heard a crash and a muttered apology and groaned loudly. He decided to lie down on the exam table and wait for death, the apocalypse, or Steve’s return, whichever disaster happened first.
***
Steve drove Danny to his house. Danny opened his mouth to protest loudly and vociferously but Steve held up a hand and said quickly,
“Hear me out before you say no. You need decent rest, not on that terrible pull-out bed in your apartment, which is on the second floor, which means stairs and you shouldn’t be climbing stairs all the time. We can either get you upstairs to the guestroom one time and you can stay there, or I can make up the couch for you. It’s really, really comfortable, Danny, much better than your bed. And I’ll be around to take care of you until the swelling goes down and you can manage a bit better.” He had that look on his face, the half-determined, half-pleading expression that Danny had only seen twice before; with Mary when he was trying to persuade her to leave for her own safety and with Gracie when he wanted to tag along with them one Saturday for some absurd reason. Danny rolled his eyes.
“Oh, God, what’s with the face? You’re giving me that face, McGarrett and I just want you to know that I am impervious to it and to all your blandishments. You cannot reasonably expect me to stay here with you until my knee heals; that’s what, two weeks at best, probably more!”
“Why not?” Steve demanded, his mouth turning down until he was almost pouting. “It’s a better idea than you trying to manage on your own.” Inspiration struck. “And besides,” Steve delivered the coup de grace with the beginnings of a smirk, “the doctor asked me to take care of you.”
“He had no idea what he was asking,” Danny spluttered. “Or should I say whom? If he had any clue just how dangerous you are . . .”
Steve got out of the car and walked round to open the passenger door.
“. . . not to mention getting shot at on a regular basis!”
“You finished?” Steve asked, holding out a hand to help Danny out of the car. Danny automatically grasped it and struggled to his feet.
“And what about the grenades?” Danny continued as they headed towards the house.
“What about the grenades?” Steve asked, opening the door and helping Danny up the step and into the living room.
“The grenades you keep handy in the glove compartment of my car.” Danny let Steve ease him down onto the couch and sat back with a sigh of relief, allowing his eyes to close briefly until his knee stopped throbbing. When he reopened them, Steve was standing over him with a glass of water in one hand and two white pills in the other. Danny took them without a word, washing the pills down and draining the glass while Steve produced a couple of pillows, apparently out of thin air. They looked very inviting and Danny swiveled around so that his head could take advantage of their downy softness. His left leg tucked itself along the back of the couch cushions with ease but his right one stayed stubbornly bent, his foot still on the floor at an uncomfortable angle as his knee locked, excruciating pain radiating in all directions.
“Shit,” Danny groaned softly and Steve immediately dropped to his knees, lifted Danny’s leg gently and positioned it on the couch. Danny took a couple of shallow breaths and then realised Steve was still on the floor beside him, watching him intently.
“Stop showing off,” Danny muttered. “There is absolutely no reason for you to be kneeling on the floor right now and I don’t need to be reminded that I might never be able to do that again with any degree of comfort.” Steve’s face was very close to his.
“Oh, for God’s sake, McGarrett, will you please get up and stop hovering! I’m okay, I’m fine, really I am.” Steve’s eyes were so close that Danny saw the tiny flicker of hurt when he snapped at him. He was finding it hard to focus so he looked down but now all he could see were Steve’s lips. They looked a little dry, chapped by the constant exposure to sun, wind and water, and then Steve’s tongue slid over them, leaving them moist and inviting. Danny groaned but this time it had nothing to do with his knee. His hand slipped around the back of Steve’s neck. He made a valiant effort and declared,
“I want you to understand that I am under the influence of drugs.” Steve just smiled at him; the rare, open, beautiful smile that made Danny catch his breath. He pulled Steve closer, his fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
“When did you let your hair grow?” Danny asked. “How come I never noticed?”
“Danno,” Steve said, so close now that Danny could feel his breath tickling the corners of his mouth.
“What?” he whispered, too close to speak any louder.
“Shut up.”
Steve leaned in closer and his lips moved gently over Danny’s. Someone sighed, maybe both of them, and Danny’s fingers curled tighter as he opened up and pulled Steve in and then there was only moist heat, a hint of coffee and an indefinable something that tasted oh so good. When Steve finally pulled back a little, Danny held on. He could feel Steve smile because his eyes were closed and he felt himself drifting hazily.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere,” Steve murmured and Danny let himself give in.
“Stupid knee,” he slurred, almost asleep. “Very good drugs, though. Nice dream, best kiss ever . . .”