[ficlet] Past the Red Lights (H50, Steve/Danny, PG)
Title: Past the Red Lights
Author: tiptoe39
Fandom: Hawaii 5-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: PG
Summary: Danny figures that Rachel has a type. This is a coda to episode 1x16. If you have never seen Steve in camo makeup, you haven't seen this ep yet.
So it turns out Stan is a good guy. A decent guy. He wanted to do the right thing. And he shot his mouth off, and it got him in trouble. Sounds familiar.
Danny guesses, that means Rachel has a type.
But he knew that already. He knew that from the moment they met. That's who they were together, making reckless decisions, running all the red lights in their pursuit of something that was always just over the horizon. But Danny could live like that, always wanting, always chasing the latest case. Rachel couldn't. Rachel got pregnant. Rachel started seeing a life that stood still, a place with roots for a little girl to grow. And Danny started becoming the dangerous one.
It's a goddamn irony, is what it is. He spends so much of his life trying to talk Steve off cliffs, he's forgotten that to some people, he's not the safe alternative. That's what happens when you live day in and day out with a freaking Navy SEAL. You forget that to normal people, you're still kind of a hothead.
But even Steve knew that, didn't he? He said Danny had a tone. And he was right. Steve has a face, Danny has a tone. How weird. It seems the top-speed partnership that Danny had with Rachel, back in the day, is now what he shares with Steve. They launch each other forward; they hold each other back.
Danny suddenly needs to see him more than anything.
Steve's showered, but he's still scrubbing the grime off his face when Danny walks in. Danny takes one look and snorts. "Look at you, all half-assed Rambo."
"Door," Steve says between scrubs of his jaw. "Knock."
Danny rolls his eyes and knocks on the doorframe. "We're going to do this every time, aren't we?"
"Till you get it, yeah." Steve groans as he straightens up and turns away from the mirror. "What's going on?"
Danny shakes his head, shrugs. "Nothing."
"You're here."
"What, can't I just come over to say hi?"
"No."
Danny rubs a thumb across his cheek, walks the length of the room. "I don't know. I'm all--" He doesn't know what he's all, he doesn't even know what he's some. He frowns and does a 180, stomping back in the other direction.
Steve watches him pace. "You're disappointed," he says. "You thought you could pin something on Stan."
"No! No, of course not." Danny waves away the possibility. Then he tilts his head. "Well, I won't deny there's a little bit of a lingering fantasy there, but... you know."
Steve grabs a towel, rubs it across his face, frowns at the grime that collects on the cloth. "I don't know. Tell me."
Danny stops pacing. "It's like this," he says. "In the end, it's all about my kid, right? It's about Grace. And if I seriously thought that Stan was bad news, I mean seriously, there's no way I would have let him anywhere near her."
"It wasn't your choice."
"But it was. You know me, I would have done something stupid. Massively, colossally stupid. And I didn't." He rubs his chin again and meets Steve's eyes. "Cause I knew. Stupid fantasy or not, I could tell Stan was a decent guy, and he's a good husband to Rachel. And a good st--" His lips curl around the word. "A good stepfather to Grace. I just, I've got nothing to complain about. Everything's good. They're all... they're all good." He wrings his hands helplessly.
Steve takes a deep breath. He steps forward, narrowing the gap between them. "And how are you?" he asks.
Danny looks up at him and the thing that has been throbbing in his heart suddenly clenches into acute pain, like a muscle seizing up. He thinks he's going to double over.
"You know, it's weird," he says softly. "I can't remember the last time someone asked me that."
Steve nods. His hand comes up and clasps Danny's shoulder. For a moment the warmth flows through that moment of contact, live and loose. The thing convulsing in Danny's heart relaxes, shudders, and sits there smarting, not gone but no longer taking him over. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks.
He nods. "I'm good," he says. "I'm good."
"Good," says Steve.
The next moments pass in a slow-motion fog. There's silence, acceptance. Steve smiling through his still half-grimy face. Danny chuckling, shrugging. Steve stepping forward, Danny starting to move, and then a moment of miscalculation that brings them into each other's way.
"Oh," says Danny.
"Oops," Steve says at the same time.
And then a motion, a dip of a head, the brush of a scruff of hair against forehead --
Somehow Steve's hand slips into Danny's. Time slows further, from rolling fog to dark molasses. Nothing is clear.
Danny knows that now is the moment to stop, to pull back, but Steve's eyes are burning coals, and they launch him forward instead. Past the red lights blaring in his mind, past the unspoken barriers, into Steve's space. His breath. His lips, parting, inviting.
His heart beats. His breath catches. Steve's mouth curls around his lower lip and holds there for an infinite second.
A bright, sharp noise from somewhere between them signals the end. Danny pulls back and inhales as though he'd forgotten to breathe.
Steve tries to speak, and his voice catches around the second word. "Are y--"
Danny is weirdly relieved to hear the fumble.
Steve tries again. "Are you sure you're OK?"
The thing inside his heart is a motor, and it's revving. It wants to accelerate, to burn past another string of red lights. But this time Danny can hold back.
"Yeah," he says, licking his lips and stepping back. "Yeah. I'm actually... I'm good."
Steve pauses. Then, dumbly, again: "Good."
It makes Danny smile. Steve's trying to keep his head, but he might not be able to. Knowing Steve, he might decide they have to talk about it, to clear things up. Or he may just bottle it up until he freaks out. That's all right. Danny will hold the line for him. He's the safe one, isn't he? He'll keep Steve grounded until the time comes for Steve to hold him back, instead. And when neither of them have to hold back, that's when things will get interesting.
That's just how they are together.
As he's pulling out of Steve's driveway later that night, it suddenly occurs to Danny that he might just have a type, too.
Author: tiptoe39
Fandom: Hawaii 5-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: PG
Summary: Danny figures that Rachel has a type. This is a coda to episode 1x16. If you have never seen Steve in camo makeup, you haven't seen this ep yet.
So it turns out Stan is a good guy. A decent guy. He wanted to do the right thing. And he shot his mouth off, and it got him in trouble. Sounds familiar.
Danny guesses, that means Rachel has a type.
But he knew that already. He knew that from the moment they met. That's who they were together, making reckless decisions, running all the red lights in their pursuit of something that was always just over the horizon. But Danny could live like that, always wanting, always chasing the latest case. Rachel couldn't. Rachel got pregnant. Rachel started seeing a life that stood still, a place with roots for a little girl to grow. And Danny started becoming the dangerous one.
It's a goddamn irony, is what it is. He spends so much of his life trying to talk Steve off cliffs, he's forgotten that to some people, he's not the safe alternative. That's what happens when you live day in and day out with a freaking Navy SEAL. You forget that to normal people, you're still kind of a hothead.
But even Steve knew that, didn't he? He said Danny had a tone. And he was right. Steve has a face, Danny has a tone. How weird. It seems the top-speed partnership that Danny had with Rachel, back in the day, is now what he shares with Steve. They launch each other forward; they hold each other back.
Danny suddenly needs to see him more than anything.
Steve's showered, but he's still scrubbing the grime off his face when Danny walks in. Danny takes one look and snorts. "Look at you, all half-assed Rambo."
"Door," Steve says between scrubs of his jaw. "Knock."
Danny rolls his eyes and knocks on the doorframe. "We're going to do this every time, aren't we?"
"Till you get it, yeah." Steve groans as he straightens up and turns away from the mirror. "What's going on?"
Danny shakes his head, shrugs. "Nothing."
"You're here."
"What, can't I just come over to say hi?"
"No."
Danny rubs a thumb across his cheek, walks the length of the room. "I don't know. I'm all--" He doesn't know what he's all, he doesn't even know what he's some. He frowns and does a 180, stomping back in the other direction.
Steve watches him pace. "You're disappointed," he says. "You thought you could pin something on Stan."
"No! No, of course not." Danny waves away the possibility. Then he tilts his head. "Well, I won't deny there's a little bit of a lingering fantasy there, but... you know."
Steve grabs a towel, rubs it across his face, frowns at the grime that collects on the cloth. "I don't know. Tell me."
Danny stops pacing. "It's like this," he says. "In the end, it's all about my kid, right? It's about Grace. And if I seriously thought that Stan was bad news, I mean seriously, there's no way I would have let him anywhere near her."
"It wasn't your choice."
"But it was. You know me, I would have done something stupid. Massively, colossally stupid. And I didn't." He rubs his chin again and meets Steve's eyes. "Cause I knew. Stupid fantasy or not, I could tell Stan was a decent guy, and he's a good husband to Rachel. And a good st--" His lips curl around the word. "A good stepfather to Grace. I just, I've got nothing to complain about. Everything's good. They're all... they're all good." He wrings his hands helplessly.
Steve takes a deep breath. He steps forward, narrowing the gap between them. "And how are you?" he asks.
Danny looks up at him and the thing that has been throbbing in his heart suddenly clenches into acute pain, like a muscle seizing up. He thinks he's going to double over.
"You know, it's weird," he says softly. "I can't remember the last time someone asked me that."
Steve nods. His hand comes up and clasps Danny's shoulder. For a moment the warmth flows through that moment of contact, live and loose. The thing convulsing in Danny's heart relaxes, shudders, and sits there smarting, not gone but no longer taking him over. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks.
He nods. "I'm good," he says. "I'm good."
"Good," says Steve.
The next moments pass in a slow-motion fog. There's silence, acceptance. Steve smiling through his still half-grimy face. Danny chuckling, shrugging. Steve stepping forward, Danny starting to move, and then a moment of miscalculation that brings them into each other's way.
"Oh," says Danny.
"Oops," Steve says at the same time.
And then a motion, a dip of a head, the brush of a scruff of hair against forehead --
Somehow Steve's hand slips into Danny's. Time slows further, from rolling fog to dark molasses. Nothing is clear.
Danny knows that now is the moment to stop, to pull back, but Steve's eyes are burning coals, and they launch him forward instead. Past the red lights blaring in his mind, past the unspoken barriers, into Steve's space. His breath. His lips, parting, inviting.
His heart beats. His breath catches. Steve's mouth curls around his lower lip and holds there for an infinite second.
A bright, sharp noise from somewhere between them signals the end. Danny pulls back and inhales as though he'd forgotten to breathe.
Steve tries to speak, and his voice catches around the second word. "Are y--"
Danny is weirdly relieved to hear the fumble.
Steve tries again. "Are you sure you're OK?"
The thing inside his heart is a motor, and it's revving. It wants to accelerate, to burn past another string of red lights. But this time Danny can hold back.
"Yeah," he says, licking his lips and stepping back. "Yeah. I'm actually... I'm good."
Steve pauses. Then, dumbly, again: "Good."
It makes Danny smile. Steve's trying to keep his head, but he might not be able to. Knowing Steve, he might decide they have to talk about it, to clear things up. Or he may just bottle it up until he freaks out. That's all right. Danny will hold the line for him. He's the safe one, isn't he? He'll keep Steve grounded until the time comes for Steve to hold him back, instead. And when neither of them have to hold back, that's when things will get interesting.
That's just how they are together.
As he's pulling out of Steve's driveway later that night, it suddenly occurs to Danny that he might just have a type, too.