making mountains out of molehills (1/1)
Title: making mountains out of molehills
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 4,231
Rating: NC-17 but just barely, which, how is hookerfic the least porny thing I've written for this?
Notes: For kink_bingo 2011: prostitution/sex work. You have been warned.
Summary: Danny has to make some choices that he's not exactly proud of, and Steve just wants to help.
The thing is - Hawaii, it’s an expensive goddamn place, okay, and now that things with Rachel have fallen spectacularly to hell again and she’s moved Grace and the baby back there, Danny’s got almost nothing left with which to follow. He gets in contact with his old landlord, manages to sweet-talk his way into a unit in an even worse building than he’d been in before, but it costs a little less a month. Steve is only too happy to give him his old job back, so he’s got income even if he doesn’t have savings, but he sits there at the end of the first week and looks at what’s coming in and what’s going out, a detective’s salary against rent and utilities and baby clothing and child support, and the columns don’t match up, not even close.
Danny reviews his options yet again. Even if he were up for a hike in salary, his pay grade means that it would still be a stretch to cover everything. He’s nowhere near that, anyway, even though there’s a little voice in the back of his head telling him that if he goes to Steve with the issue, it’ll get pushed through anyway. Danny isn’t that guy, though, the one who uses his friendships for personal gain, so he firmly tells that voice to shut the fuck up and goes on to Plan B.
The problem is, there is no Plan B - at least, not one that isn’t immediately rejected for one reason or another. A second job is pretty much out of the question; he needs to be available at a moment’s notice for Five-0, so having regular hours as a clerk at the Walgreens isn’t really an option. There’s also the fact that he has to catch sleep when he can, so something really time-intensive won’t be good, either. He’s thinking about his sister Lindsey, how she’d helped put her way through grad school by selling scarves and whatever that she knitted to order, while he’s rummaging in his bedstand for another sheet of paper. He glances down when he flicks his fingers across the box in there, and tries to banish the idea it gives him as soon as he thinks it, but.
But.
Danny takes the condom box from the bedstand slowly, turning it over and over in his hands and thinking about the idea. He doesn’t like it - he fucking hates it, actually - but the pay would be good, he could make his own hours, and he can defend himself against the guys out there who might think it’s fun to smack a guy around a little. He can talk to a guy he knows in Vice, too, figure out where to be if he doesn’t want to be arrested in some sort of bust.
By the time he realizes he’s talked himself into it, his alarm is going off, and Danny swears and tosses the condoms back into the bedstand and makes his way into the bathroom to start the day.
-0-
It’s five weeks before he gets caught.
He’s out where he usually is, leaning against the side of a building in one of the lesser-travelled areas of the island. Selchins in Vice had leered when Danny had asked, as offhandedly as he could manage, where he might go looking discreetly; he’s sure that Selchins thinks he’s paying for it, but the man had promised to give Danny a heads-up when Vice was planning something in the area, so Danny lets him think whatever he will. He’s been picked up more than a few times, by men and women alike, and like he’d thought, it’s enough to make ends meet. That’s all he needs from it, anyway, and Danny knows if he manages to pick up one more client this week, he’ll be able to make the month with a little to spare.
Client. It’s easier that way, even though his teeth grit every time he lies to himself.
But it’s a Thursday night and he’s set up where he usually sets up, jeans a little too tight and shirt a little threadbare, and he’s only sort of paying attention to his surroundings. It’s why he startles so badly when a horn blares from the street. He’s sauntered halfway to the truck before he freezes, recognizing Steve’s Silverado, and wondering dully if there’s anything he can say to make this seem like anything other than what it is. Probably not, he decides, forcing himself to walk the rest of the way to the truck and tap on the window.
“I think we need to talk,” Steve says when he rolls the window down, and Danny - Danny doesn’t have a name for this face, somewhere between Kicked Puppy and You’re Lying To Me and something else, something thin and dangerous. Danny takes a breath and shakes his head.
“It’s not something I really want to talk about,” he replies. “So unless you’re buying, I’ve got a stoop to warm-”
“How much?” Steve cuts in, and okay, shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go, not at all. Some of whatever he’s feeling is showing on his face, Danny’s sure, because Steve reddens right the fuck up and stares out the windshield. “The night, Danny, what am I going to have to give you to get you to open the door and get in and not come back out here?”
“Paying for the night,” Danny informs him, “doesn’t mean I’m not coming back out here, Steve.” But he climbs into the truck anyway, rolls the window up and buckles his belt, and Steve lets out a breath and drives away.
There’s no sound as they drive towards Steve’s house, none at all. Danny half-wants to explain and half-wants Steve to ask, but neither has happened by the time Steve parks the truck in his driveway. He doesn’t make a move to loosen his belt, though, so Danny waits him out. It takes longer than he figured it might for Steve to turn to him and say, “What the hell, Danny?”
“Look,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “It’s not like I’m proud of myself, okay? It’s just - it helps the ends meet, rent and child support and shit, because what I make with Five-0 was enough when Rachel had Stan and I was paying child support for one kid, but now that it’s two kids and alimony I just don’t make enough. It’s not like I could get a second job,” he points out, and Steve blinks at him for a minute.
“I’ll give you a raise,” he says, and Danny had known it would be that easy, except for the part where, no, it actually isn’t.
“I’m not up for one, and anyway, if you pay me what I need, that means two officers in HPD don’t get their raises this year,” Danny counters.
“Move out of that shithole. I’ve got room here.”
“See, no,” Danny says. “I’m taking care of things, okay? I’m making my rent and giving Rachel what we agreed on, I’m still clean and everything I do is safe, so I really don’t see how this-”
“Damn it, Danny!” And there’s the anger Danny’s been half-expecting this whole time. “This isn’t - why the fuck didn’t you come to me, huh? You have to know that I’d help - make Rachel back off, or find you something with Mamo-”
“And that’s why I didn’t,” Danny replies sharply, his own voice rising. “I don’t need pity, Steve. I can handle myself, and okay, this is not a shining moment in my life, I realize that, but I am managing on my own, all right? I do not need your charity.”
“Charity.” Steve’s mouth is working, like he’s got a lot more to say and is fighting to keep from shouting it at the top of his lungs. “Danny, it’s not charity. You need help, I can help-”
“You want to help,” Danny bites out, “either pay me or drive me back to where I was.”
Steve reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, opening it up and pulling out the wad of cash he keeps tucked inside. It’s probably twice what Danny might expect to make in a night, so he peels off what he’d charge anyone else and hands the rest back to Steve, who glares at him.
“I don’t need your charity,” Danny repeats, and Steve takes the cash from him, shoves it back in his wallet. There’s another tense moment of staring before Steve opens his door and slides out, stalking his way up to the house.
Danny takes a long breath and holds it before letting it out slowly. This? This is a disaster.
-0-
So he’s got enough, right, enough to make it through the month and enough to put a little away, even, but he feels like he cheated somehow. He makes a face at himself in his mirror the next night, tugging the corner of his shirt down and trying not to poke another hole in it. Steve had made him sit on the couch and watch football until he’d fallen asleep, and he’d woken in the morning when Steve shook his foot and told him to step to. They’d stopped at Danny’s place, he’d changed, and they’d gone in to work, acting as if nothing unusual had happened.
Danny doesn’t have to go out tonight, but yeah, there’s that cheating feeling, like the night before had been some sort of freebie that meant he’d lose something somewhere along the line. So as soon as he gets home and eats - cereal tonight, no milk - he changes into his jeans and shirt again and heads for his usual place.
He’s talking to a guy he’s blown a few times, telling him yet again that yeah, he’s really going to have to wear a condom if he wants to stick his dick in Danny’s mouth, when the horn blares from the curb. Danny’s shoulders tense automatically, and he resolutely doesn’t look towards the street. The guy he’s talking to notices and frowns.
“Someone giving you trouble, baby?” he asks, and great, either the guy is feeling proprietary or he’s got some weird noble streak. Neither is a great option, so Danny just shakes his hand.
“He’ll go away,” Danny replies, and of course that’s when Steve gets out of the truck and walks right up to Danny and his client, making with the crazy eyes like he’s trying to medal in it.
“Take off,” Steve advises the guy, who narrows his eyes and casts a quick look at Danny before slinking away. Steve’s attention is on Danny in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t say anything else, though, just opens his wallet and takes out the same amount of cash he’d given Danny the night before, and he holds it out until Danny takes it. Then Steve turns, heading back to the truck, and Danny sighs and follows him.
-0-
It becomes routine. Danny doesn’t go out every night, but every time he does, Steve shows up within an hour and picks him up. They never do anything; mostly they just go back to Steve’s and find something to watch on the television until they both pass out. They don’t have sex, and they definitely don’t talk about what’s going on.
-0-
It’s almost three months before the situation changes, and when it does, it changes in a spectacular fashion.
“I’ve been thinking,” Steve says as Danny slides into the truck, and Danny startles. Steve never says anything until they get back to his house, until they can both pretend that it’s just about pizza and beer and Danny crashing at Steve’s for the night.
“What about?” Danny asks cautiously when it becomes apparent that he’s supposed to reply. He’s got the distinct feeling that he’s not going to like where this ends.
“This,” Steve says simply, tilting his head a little in Danny’s direction. “The whole… thing.”
“The whole thing,” Danny repeats. “All of it, not a specific part.”
“Yeah.”
“This whole thing, the thing where I have to sell myself to make my child support payments while I hide what I’m doing from my ex so she lets me see the kids I’m trying to support in the first place, that thing, Steven, is that the thing you’ve been thinking about-”
“Danny,” Steve breaks in, and he sounds weird, strangled and hoarse. “Please, I’m trying to-”
“Help,” Danny sighs. “Look, I know that, okay? I am well aware that you are trying to help me. It’s why you drive past my place every night - don’t give me that face, I’m well aware that you check in on me - and why you show up every time I’m out.”
“I don’t want you to have to do this,” Steve tells him as they pull into his driveway. “It drives me crazy, Danny.”
“It drives you crazy?” Danny snorts. “You, my friend, are not the one who has to worry about this. You don’t have to think about what other sorts of humiliating things you’ll have to do next if this falls through. You don’t have to worry about what happens if this sleazeball’s condom rips, or the one after him, or after that. You haven’t had to decide lately, hey, dinner or paying the electric bill, which is more important-”
“I worry about all of that,” Steve says, and it’s quiet and it drains the fight right out of Danny. “I wish you’d let me help you.”
“You’re helping,” Danny sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, you’re - thank you, okay? Thank you for not holding it over my head or being a dick about it or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Steve replies, and there’s this stretch of awkward silence like Steve wants to say something else but isn’t sure if he should. Danny is getting ready to tell him to spit it out, already, when Steve opens the door and gets out of the truck.
Danny follows.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Steve says when they’re settled on the lanai, beers in hand. “I don’t get why this was your choice for… supplemental income.”
Danny shrugs. “Thought we went over that. With the cases we pull in, I can’t get an overnight shift.”
“What about, I don’t know,” Steve fumbles. “Making something, selling what you make?”
Danny spreads his hands. “What, do I suddenly look like a guy who whittles in his spare time? I sell what I have, McGarrett, and yeah, it makes me a little sleazy, it makes me feel like I have to scrub my skin off before I hug my kids, but at the end of the day, I still get to hug my kids. It’s not a trade I’m thrilled with, believe me, but it’s one that I am willing to make.”
Steve sighs again, like Danny’s not getting the point, which kind of makes Danny see red. “Look, it’s not like I’m proud of the fact that I have to suck cock in an alley to get through the month,” he says sharply, and Steve flinches like the words hurt. “And yeah, I’m thankful that you apparently want to pay for my company instead of my services, but the fact remains that I need the extra cash, and if you decide to stop picking me up, it’s not going to stop me from going out there and going back on my knees and letting guys fuck my face.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t do that,” Steve says, voice low. “What if - what if HPD catches you out there, huh? What’s going to happen then?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Steve, but I spend most of my nights here, drinking your beer and following you around your house,” Danny snaps. “What, HPD’s going to arrest me for hanging out with my partner, in the privacy of his home, while we both keep our clothes on?”
“Danny-” Steve starts, but that’s it, enough of this shit.
“No,” Danny snarls, slamming his bottle down on the side table. “No, babe, you know what? You pick up a hooker for the night, you’re at least getting something out of it.” And with that, he sinks to his knees in front of Steve, reaching for the zipper on those ridiculous pants.
Steve catches his hands before Danny can grab at him, and when Danny looks up, Steve’s face is totally open, raw and vulnerable, hiding nothing. There are a lot of things there that Danny’s long suspected but never acted upon, but now it’s right in front of him, impossible to ignore. Danny feels the anger thrumming through him soften, ebb, turn into something more gentle and fond and affectionate, and he smiles up at Steve after a minute.
“Oh, babe,” he says softly, pulling one of his hands free and cupping Steve’s face. “Let me, okay?”
Steve just keeps looking at him, his lips slightly parted, wearing his heart right there for the world to see. Danny leans up and kisses him, just a brush of his lips over Steve’s, and then he’s settling between Steve’s thighs, pulling Steve’s pants open, tugging them down, pulling Steve’s cock out through the slit in his boxers. He keeps his eyes locked with Steve’s as he runs his fingers along the length, half-hard in his hand, and smiles when Steve pulls in a shaky breath.
“Danny,” he says hesitantly, “I didn’t - you don’t-”
Danny turns his head and presses a kiss to Steve’s knee. “Let me,” he repeats, and then he leans in and pulls the tip of Steve’s cock into his mouth, still keeping his eyes focused on Steve’s.
“Oh,” Steve breathes out, and Danny watches as his eyes go wide and dark. Steve half-reaches for Danny but stops, letting his hands fall to his thighs, so Danny reaches up with his free hand and threads their fingers together. Steve lifts his other hand after a moment and slides it gently into Danny’s hair - not pulling or guiding or holding him down, just there, as if Steve’s trying to ground himself.
Danny goes all out, running his tongue up Steve’s cock, sucking at the head, diving down as far as he’s able to get. All the while, he keeps looking up, watching as Steve slowly falls to pieces. Beads of sweat gather at his temples and slide down his face, and Danny wants to lick at them, gather it all in his mouth and add it to the taste-memory he’s making of Steve. He doesn’t want to stop, though, so he keeps moving his mouth and his hand and his lips, coaxing Steve closer and closer to the edge.
“Danny,” Steve says, almost babbling as he shifts in his seat. “Danny, Danny.”
“Yeah, babe,” Danny says, pulling off and stroking firmly. “Go ahead, Steve, let it go for me.”
Steve looks down, shudders, and does exactly that, coming messily all over Danny’s shirt.
“There you go,” Danny murmurs, words spilling over his lips without even thinking. “That’s it, babe, there you go.”
Steve slumps into the chair and tilts his head back, and Danny can tell he’s gathering himself together. He stands and heads into the kitchen, stripping out of his shirt and washing his hands. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls for a cab, then sticks his head back out the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says softly, but even though he’s sure Steve hears him, Steve doesn’t move a muscle.
-0-
Danny goes home like he always does after work, immediately shedding his clothes and heading straight for the bathroom. It had been one of those days - the ones where everything seems to go ten kinds of wrong and then gets a little worse besides. He’s tired and kind of just wants to drop, but Steve had been treating him with kid gloves all day, and, well, Chin and Kono are good at what they do. They’d noticed that something as up but hadn’t said anything - Chin had opted for the mildly disapproving scowl, and Kono had flat-out frowned and looked pointedly back and forth between them.
And really, Danny knows what the issue is. It’s kind of an issue for him, too, except that he’s apparently better at compartmentalizing, can keep one job separate from the other. He’d thought that Steve would be able to do the same, but he’d realized the error in that thought as soon as he’d walked into the office in the morning.
He sighs as he rinses his hair and turns the water off. He throws on another pair of khakis, another button-down, and hesitates before putting a tie on as well. He’s going to talk to Steve on equal footing here, so he’s damn well going to look like himself while doing it.
Steve isn’t there when Danny arrives, but he lets himself in with the key he’d never managed to give back and shuts the alarm off with the same code that he’d helped Steve choose. He wonders, now, why he hadn’t just connected the dots earlier, maybe made this whole thing easier on the both of them.
He’s halfway through his second beer when the front door opens and slams, and Danny can hear Steve talking, voice low, before he steps into Danny’s line of sight. Steve catches sight of him through the door to the lanai and goes stock-still, holding his phone to his ear, and Danny gives a little wave of his bottle.
“Never mind,” Steve says into the phone before hanging up on whomever he’d called. He stays in the kitchen, staring at Danny, until Danny sighs and gestures towards the other chair on the lanai.
“I think we need to talk,” Danny says when Steve walks out and sits down.
“You weren’t there,” Steve says, and Danny takes a minute to really look at Steve. He looks half-crazy, hair mussed like he’s been running his hand through it, eyes darting all over Danny’s body, like he’s looking for hidden injuries. “You weren’t at your apartment and then you weren’t where you’ve been, and I kept thinking, you moved somewhere else where I won’t be able to find you…” His voice trails off, and Danny can see the strain in his jaw, the way his fingers are trembling minutely against his thighs.
“I’ve been here,” Danny tells him. “You could have just called.”
“I was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer,” Steve replies. “I thought you were-”
And then his eyes drop, and he won’t look up to meet Danny’s eyes.
“Hey,” Danny says, “hey, none of that. Steve. Look at me.”
Danny waits patiently until Steve finally glances up. He holds out the envelope that has been resting on the table beside him since he arrived, and keeps looking Steve in the eye as Steve takes it from him. Steve drops his eyes to peek in the envelope, and Danny watches as Steve’s eyes widen. “Danny-”
“Last night,” Danny cuts him off, “wasn’t about you paying me for it, Steve. Last night was because I wanted to.”
Steve looks lost, like he thinks he’s not hearing correctly. “But I paid you.”
“Payment not accepted,” Danny replies, gesturing towards the envelope. “Look, I was mad, okay? This whole situation sucks, and not like that, don’t even,” he warns, and is rewarded with a flicker of a smile across Steve’s face. “And then you swoop in, Mr. White Knight, and you know how well I deal with pity.”
“I don’t pity you.” Steve’s voice is quiet but firm.
“I know that now,” Danny says softly. “All I had to do was look at your face last night to know that, babe.”
Steve flushes and looks away, but Danny reaches out and grabs his chin, gently tugging until Steve is facing him again.
“Goof,” Danny says, absurdly fond, and then he leans across the space between them and kisses Steve.
Steve moans a little in the back of his throat, low and needy, and his hands are running up and down Danny’s arms before Danny has the chance to pull back. “Let me help you,” Steve says, like he’s said before, except now Danny gets it. “Come stay with me so you can stop paying rent on that shitty place. It doesn’t even have to be - just stop, Danny, stop going out there.”
“I’ll stop,” Danny promises. “I’ll move my six boxes in tomorrow, okay?”
Steve lets out a breath and slumps into Danny, clutching at him like Danny’s the only thing keeping him upright. It’s as if all the tension has bled out of Steve’s frame, and Danny has to wonder just how long he was holding that breath. It seems like it could have been months.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.
“No,” Steve says, stubborn. “It was - I should have said something earlier, Danny. I hated that you thought you had to, that you kind of did have to, but saying something?” He sighs. “If I was wrong, if you didn’t - I couldn’t-”
“You weren’t wrong,” Danny points out, tilting Steve’s head up and brushing their mouths together again.
“I wasn’t,” Steve agrees, kissing Danny back briefly before tucking his head back into Danny’s shoulder. “I’m pretty happy about that.”
“Me too, babe,” Danny says. “Me too.”
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 4,231
Rating: NC-17 but just barely, which, how is hookerfic the least porny thing I've written for this?
Notes: For kink_bingo 2011: prostitution/sex work. You have been warned.
Summary: Danny has to make some choices that he's not exactly proud of, and Steve just wants to help.
The thing is - Hawaii, it’s an expensive goddamn place, okay, and now that things with Rachel have fallen spectacularly to hell again and she’s moved Grace and the baby back there, Danny’s got almost nothing left with which to follow. He gets in contact with his old landlord, manages to sweet-talk his way into a unit in an even worse building than he’d been in before, but it costs a little less a month. Steve is only too happy to give him his old job back, so he’s got income even if he doesn’t have savings, but he sits there at the end of the first week and looks at what’s coming in and what’s going out, a detective’s salary against rent and utilities and baby clothing and child support, and the columns don’t match up, not even close.
Danny reviews his options yet again. Even if he were up for a hike in salary, his pay grade means that it would still be a stretch to cover everything. He’s nowhere near that, anyway, even though there’s a little voice in the back of his head telling him that if he goes to Steve with the issue, it’ll get pushed through anyway. Danny isn’t that guy, though, the one who uses his friendships for personal gain, so he firmly tells that voice to shut the fuck up and goes on to Plan B.
The problem is, there is no Plan B - at least, not one that isn’t immediately rejected for one reason or another. A second job is pretty much out of the question; he needs to be available at a moment’s notice for Five-0, so having regular hours as a clerk at the Walgreens isn’t really an option. There’s also the fact that he has to catch sleep when he can, so something really time-intensive won’t be good, either. He’s thinking about his sister Lindsey, how she’d helped put her way through grad school by selling scarves and whatever that she knitted to order, while he’s rummaging in his bedstand for another sheet of paper. He glances down when he flicks his fingers across the box in there, and tries to banish the idea it gives him as soon as he thinks it, but.
But.
Danny takes the condom box from the bedstand slowly, turning it over and over in his hands and thinking about the idea. He doesn’t like it - he fucking hates it, actually - but the pay would be good, he could make his own hours, and he can defend himself against the guys out there who might think it’s fun to smack a guy around a little. He can talk to a guy he knows in Vice, too, figure out where to be if he doesn’t want to be arrested in some sort of bust.
By the time he realizes he’s talked himself into it, his alarm is going off, and Danny swears and tosses the condoms back into the bedstand and makes his way into the bathroom to start the day.
-0-
It’s five weeks before he gets caught.
He’s out where he usually is, leaning against the side of a building in one of the lesser-travelled areas of the island. Selchins in Vice had leered when Danny had asked, as offhandedly as he could manage, where he might go looking discreetly; he’s sure that Selchins thinks he’s paying for it, but the man had promised to give Danny a heads-up when Vice was planning something in the area, so Danny lets him think whatever he will. He’s been picked up more than a few times, by men and women alike, and like he’d thought, it’s enough to make ends meet. That’s all he needs from it, anyway, and Danny knows if he manages to pick up one more client this week, he’ll be able to make the month with a little to spare.
Client. It’s easier that way, even though his teeth grit every time he lies to himself.
But it’s a Thursday night and he’s set up where he usually sets up, jeans a little too tight and shirt a little threadbare, and he’s only sort of paying attention to his surroundings. It’s why he startles so badly when a horn blares from the street. He’s sauntered halfway to the truck before he freezes, recognizing Steve’s Silverado, and wondering dully if there’s anything he can say to make this seem like anything other than what it is. Probably not, he decides, forcing himself to walk the rest of the way to the truck and tap on the window.
“I think we need to talk,” Steve says when he rolls the window down, and Danny - Danny doesn’t have a name for this face, somewhere between Kicked Puppy and You’re Lying To Me and something else, something thin and dangerous. Danny takes a breath and shakes his head.
“It’s not something I really want to talk about,” he replies. “So unless you’re buying, I’ve got a stoop to warm-”
“How much?” Steve cuts in, and okay, shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go, not at all. Some of whatever he’s feeling is showing on his face, Danny’s sure, because Steve reddens right the fuck up and stares out the windshield. “The night, Danny, what am I going to have to give you to get you to open the door and get in and not come back out here?”
“Paying for the night,” Danny informs him, “doesn’t mean I’m not coming back out here, Steve.” But he climbs into the truck anyway, rolls the window up and buckles his belt, and Steve lets out a breath and drives away.
There’s no sound as they drive towards Steve’s house, none at all. Danny half-wants to explain and half-wants Steve to ask, but neither has happened by the time Steve parks the truck in his driveway. He doesn’t make a move to loosen his belt, though, so Danny waits him out. It takes longer than he figured it might for Steve to turn to him and say, “What the hell, Danny?”
“Look,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “It’s not like I’m proud of myself, okay? It’s just - it helps the ends meet, rent and child support and shit, because what I make with Five-0 was enough when Rachel had Stan and I was paying child support for one kid, but now that it’s two kids and alimony I just don’t make enough. It’s not like I could get a second job,” he points out, and Steve blinks at him for a minute.
“I’ll give you a raise,” he says, and Danny had known it would be that easy, except for the part where, no, it actually isn’t.
“I’m not up for one, and anyway, if you pay me what I need, that means two officers in HPD don’t get their raises this year,” Danny counters.
“Move out of that shithole. I’ve got room here.”
“See, no,” Danny says. “I’m taking care of things, okay? I’m making my rent and giving Rachel what we agreed on, I’m still clean and everything I do is safe, so I really don’t see how this-”
“Damn it, Danny!” And there’s the anger Danny’s been half-expecting this whole time. “This isn’t - why the fuck didn’t you come to me, huh? You have to know that I’d help - make Rachel back off, or find you something with Mamo-”
“And that’s why I didn’t,” Danny replies sharply, his own voice rising. “I don’t need pity, Steve. I can handle myself, and okay, this is not a shining moment in my life, I realize that, but I am managing on my own, all right? I do not need your charity.”
“Charity.” Steve’s mouth is working, like he’s got a lot more to say and is fighting to keep from shouting it at the top of his lungs. “Danny, it’s not charity. You need help, I can help-”
“You want to help,” Danny bites out, “either pay me or drive me back to where I was.”
Steve reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, opening it up and pulling out the wad of cash he keeps tucked inside. It’s probably twice what Danny might expect to make in a night, so he peels off what he’d charge anyone else and hands the rest back to Steve, who glares at him.
“I don’t need your charity,” Danny repeats, and Steve takes the cash from him, shoves it back in his wallet. There’s another tense moment of staring before Steve opens his door and slides out, stalking his way up to the house.
Danny takes a long breath and holds it before letting it out slowly. This? This is a disaster.
-0-
So he’s got enough, right, enough to make it through the month and enough to put a little away, even, but he feels like he cheated somehow. He makes a face at himself in his mirror the next night, tugging the corner of his shirt down and trying not to poke another hole in it. Steve had made him sit on the couch and watch football until he’d fallen asleep, and he’d woken in the morning when Steve shook his foot and told him to step to. They’d stopped at Danny’s place, he’d changed, and they’d gone in to work, acting as if nothing unusual had happened.
Danny doesn’t have to go out tonight, but yeah, there’s that cheating feeling, like the night before had been some sort of freebie that meant he’d lose something somewhere along the line. So as soon as he gets home and eats - cereal tonight, no milk - he changes into his jeans and shirt again and heads for his usual place.
He’s talking to a guy he’s blown a few times, telling him yet again that yeah, he’s really going to have to wear a condom if he wants to stick his dick in Danny’s mouth, when the horn blares from the curb. Danny’s shoulders tense automatically, and he resolutely doesn’t look towards the street. The guy he’s talking to notices and frowns.
“Someone giving you trouble, baby?” he asks, and great, either the guy is feeling proprietary or he’s got some weird noble streak. Neither is a great option, so Danny just shakes his hand.
“He’ll go away,” Danny replies, and of course that’s when Steve gets out of the truck and walks right up to Danny and his client, making with the crazy eyes like he’s trying to medal in it.
“Take off,” Steve advises the guy, who narrows his eyes and casts a quick look at Danny before slinking away. Steve’s attention is on Danny in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t say anything else, though, just opens his wallet and takes out the same amount of cash he’d given Danny the night before, and he holds it out until Danny takes it. Then Steve turns, heading back to the truck, and Danny sighs and follows him.
-0-
It becomes routine. Danny doesn’t go out every night, but every time he does, Steve shows up within an hour and picks him up. They never do anything; mostly they just go back to Steve’s and find something to watch on the television until they both pass out. They don’t have sex, and they definitely don’t talk about what’s going on.
-0-
It’s almost three months before the situation changes, and when it does, it changes in a spectacular fashion.
“I’ve been thinking,” Steve says as Danny slides into the truck, and Danny startles. Steve never says anything until they get back to his house, until they can both pretend that it’s just about pizza and beer and Danny crashing at Steve’s for the night.
“What about?” Danny asks cautiously when it becomes apparent that he’s supposed to reply. He’s got the distinct feeling that he’s not going to like where this ends.
“This,” Steve says simply, tilting his head a little in Danny’s direction. “The whole… thing.”
“The whole thing,” Danny repeats. “All of it, not a specific part.”
“Yeah.”
“This whole thing, the thing where I have to sell myself to make my child support payments while I hide what I’m doing from my ex so she lets me see the kids I’m trying to support in the first place, that thing, Steven, is that the thing you’ve been thinking about-”
“Danny,” Steve breaks in, and he sounds weird, strangled and hoarse. “Please, I’m trying to-”
“Help,” Danny sighs. “Look, I know that, okay? I am well aware that you are trying to help me. It’s why you drive past my place every night - don’t give me that face, I’m well aware that you check in on me - and why you show up every time I’m out.”
“I don’t want you to have to do this,” Steve tells him as they pull into his driveway. “It drives me crazy, Danny.”
“It drives you crazy?” Danny snorts. “You, my friend, are not the one who has to worry about this. You don’t have to think about what other sorts of humiliating things you’ll have to do next if this falls through. You don’t have to worry about what happens if this sleazeball’s condom rips, or the one after him, or after that. You haven’t had to decide lately, hey, dinner or paying the electric bill, which is more important-”
“I worry about all of that,” Steve says, and it’s quiet and it drains the fight right out of Danny. “I wish you’d let me help you.”
“You’re helping,” Danny sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, you’re - thank you, okay? Thank you for not holding it over my head or being a dick about it or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Steve replies, and there’s this stretch of awkward silence like Steve wants to say something else but isn’t sure if he should. Danny is getting ready to tell him to spit it out, already, when Steve opens the door and gets out of the truck.
Danny follows.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Steve says when they’re settled on the lanai, beers in hand. “I don’t get why this was your choice for… supplemental income.”
Danny shrugs. “Thought we went over that. With the cases we pull in, I can’t get an overnight shift.”
“What about, I don’t know,” Steve fumbles. “Making something, selling what you make?”
Danny spreads his hands. “What, do I suddenly look like a guy who whittles in his spare time? I sell what I have, McGarrett, and yeah, it makes me a little sleazy, it makes me feel like I have to scrub my skin off before I hug my kids, but at the end of the day, I still get to hug my kids. It’s not a trade I’m thrilled with, believe me, but it’s one that I am willing to make.”
Steve sighs again, like Danny’s not getting the point, which kind of makes Danny see red. “Look, it’s not like I’m proud of the fact that I have to suck cock in an alley to get through the month,” he says sharply, and Steve flinches like the words hurt. “And yeah, I’m thankful that you apparently want to pay for my company instead of my services, but the fact remains that I need the extra cash, and if you decide to stop picking me up, it’s not going to stop me from going out there and going back on my knees and letting guys fuck my face.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t do that,” Steve says, voice low. “What if - what if HPD catches you out there, huh? What’s going to happen then?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Steve, but I spend most of my nights here, drinking your beer and following you around your house,” Danny snaps. “What, HPD’s going to arrest me for hanging out with my partner, in the privacy of his home, while we both keep our clothes on?”
“Danny-” Steve starts, but that’s it, enough of this shit.
“No,” Danny snarls, slamming his bottle down on the side table. “No, babe, you know what? You pick up a hooker for the night, you’re at least getting something out of it.” And with that, he sinks to his knees in front of Steve, reaching for the zipper on those ridiculous pants.
Steve catches his hands before Danny can grab at him, and when Danny looks up, Steve’s face is totally open, raw and vulnerable, hiding nothing. There are a lot of things there that Danny’s long suspected but never acted upon, but now it’s right in front of him, impossible to ignore. Danny feels the anger thrumming through him soften, ebb, turn into something more gentle and fond and affectionate, and he smiles up at Steve after a minute.
“Oh, babe,” he says softly, pulling one of his hands free and cupping Steve’s face. “Let me, okay?”
Steve just keeps looking at him, his lips slightly parted, wearing his heart right there for the world to see. Danny leans up and kisses him, just a brush of his lips over Steve’s, and then he’s settling between Steve’s thighs, pulling Steve’s pants open, tugging them down, pulling Steve’s cock out through the slit in his boxers. He keeps his eyes locked with Steve’s as he runs his fingers along the length, half-hard in his hand, and smiles when Steve pulls in a shaky breath.
“Danny,” he says hesitantly, “I didn’t - you don’t-”
Danny turns his head and presses a kiss to Steve’s knee. “Let me,” he repeats, and then he leans in and pulls the tip of Steve’s cock into his mouth, still keeping his eyes focused on Steve’s.
“Oh,” Steve breathes out, and Danny watches as his eyes go wide and dark. Steve half-reaches for Danny but stops, letting his hands fall to his thighs, so Danny reaches up with his free hand and threads their fingers together. Steve lifts his other hand after a moment and slides it gently into Danny’s hair - not pulling or guiding or holding him down, just there, as if Steve’s trying to ground himself.
Danny goes all out, running his tongue up Steve’s cock, sucking at the head, diving down as far as he’s able to get. All the while, he keeps looking up, watching as Steve slowly falls to pieces. Beads of sweat gather at his temples and slide down his face, and Danny wants to lick at them, gather it all in his mouth and add it to the taste-memory he’s making of Steve. He doesn’t want to stop, though, so he keeps moving his mouth and his hand and his lips, coaxing Steve closer and closer to the edge.
“Danny,” Steve says, almost babbling as he shifts in his seat. “Danny, Danny.”
“Yeah, babe,” Danny says, pulling off and stroking firmly. “Go ahead, Steve, let it go for me.”
Steve looks down, shudders, and does exactly that, coming messily all over Danny’s shirt.
“There you go,” Danny murmurs, words spilling over his lips without even thinking. “That’s it, babe, there you go.”
Steve slumps into the chair and tilts his head back, and Danny can tell he’s gathering himself together. He stands and heads into the kitchen, stripping out of his shirt and washing his hands. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls for a cab, then sticks his head back out the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says softly, but even though he’s sure Steve hears him, Steve doesn’t move a muscle.
-0-
Danny goes home like he always does after work, immediately shedding his clothes and heading straight for the bathroom. It had been one of those days - the ones where everything seems to go ten kinds of wrong and then gets a little worse besides. He’s tired and kind of just wants to drop, but Steve had been treating him with kid gloves all day, and, well, Chin and Kono are good at what they do. They’d noticed that something as up but hadn’t said anything - Chin had opted for the mildly disapproving scowl, and Kono had flat-out frowned and looked pointedly back and forth between them.
And really, Danny knows what the issue is. It’s kind of an issue for him, too, except that he’s apparently better at compartmentalizing, can keep one job separate from the other. He’d thought that Steve would be able to do the same, but he’d realized the error in that thought as soon as he’d walked into the office in the morning.
He sighs as he rinses his hair and turns the water off. He throws on another pair of khakis, another button-down, and hesitates before putting a tie on as well. He’s going to talk to Steve on equal footing here, so he’s damn well going to look like himself while doing it.
Steve isn’t there when Danny arrives, but he lets himself in with the key he’d never managed to give back and shuts the alarm off with the same code that he’d helped Steve choose. He wonders, now, why he hadn’t just connected the dots earlier, maybe made this whole thing easier on the both of them.
He’s halfway through his second beer when the front door opens and slams, and Danny can hear Steve talking, voice low, before he steps into Danny’s line of sight. Steve catches sight of him through the door to the lanai and goes stock-still, holding his phone to his ear, and Danny gives a little wave of his bottle.
“Never mind,” Steve says into the phone before hanging up on whomever he’d called. He stays in the kitchen, staring at Danny, until Danny sighs and gestures towards the other chair on the lanai.
“I think we need to talk,” Danny says when Steve walks out and sits down.
“You weren’t there,” Steve says, and Danny takes a minute to really look at Steve. He looks half-crazy, hair mussed like he’s been running his hand through it, eyes darting all over Danny’s body, like he’s looking for hidden injuries. “You weren’t at your apartment and then you weren’t where you’ve been, and I kept thinking, you moved somewhere else where I won’t be able to find you…” His voice trails off, and Danny can see the strain in his jaw, the way his fingers are trembling minutely against his thighs.
“I’ve been here,” Danny tells him. “You could have just called.”
“I was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer,” Steve replies. “I thought you were-”
And then his eyes drop, and he won’t look up to meet Danny’s eyes.
“Hey,” Danny says, “hey, none of that. Steve. Look at me.”
Danny waits patiently until Steve finally glances up. He holds out the envelope that has been resting on the table beside him since he arrived, and keeps looking Steve in the eye as Steve takes it from him. Steve drops his eyes to peek in the envelope, and Danny watches as Steve’s eyes widen. “Danny-”
“Last night,” Danny cuts him off, “wasn’t about you paying me for it, Steve. Last night was because I wanted to.”
Steve looks lost, like he thinks he’s not hearing correctly. “But I paid you.”
“Payment not accepted,” Danny replies, gesturing towards the envelope. “Look, I was mad, okay? This whole situation sucks, and not like that, don’t even,” he warns, and is rewarded with a flicker of a smile across Steve’s face. “And then you swoop in, Mr. White Knight, and you know how well I deal with pity.”
“I don’t pity you.” Steve’s voice is quiet but firm.
“I know that now,” Danny says softly. “All I had to do was look at your face last night to know that, babe.”
Steve flushes and looks away, but Danny reaches out and grabs his chin, gently tugging until Steve is facing him again.
“Goof,” Danny says, absurdly fond, and then he leans across the space between them and kisses Steve.
Steve moans a little in the back of his throat, low and needy, and his hands are running up and down Danny’s arms before Danny has the chance to pull back. “Let me help you,” Steve says, like he’s said before, except now Danny gets it. “Come stay with me so you can stop paying rent on that shitty place. It doesn’t even have to be - just stop, Danny, stop going out there.”
“I’ll stop,” Danny promises. “I’ll move my six boxes in tomorrow, okay?”
Steve lets out a breath and slumps into Danny, clutching at him like Danny’s the only thing keeping him upright. It’s as if all the tension has bled out of Steve’s frame, and Danny has to wonder just how long he was holding that breath. It seems like it could have been months.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.
“No,” Steve says, stubborn. “It was - I should have said something earlier, Danny. I hated that you thought you had to, that you kind of did have to, but saying something?” He sighs. “If I was wrong, if you didn’t - I couldn’t-”
“You weren’t wrong,” Danny points out, tilting Steve’s head up and brushing their mouths together again.
“I wasn’t,” Steve agrees, kissing Danny back briefly before tucking his head back into Danny’s shoulder. “I’m pretty happy about that.”
“Me too, babe,” Danny says. “Me too.”