Steve's trying to brush it off, like they didn't somehow lose three whole years. It's true. Now is better than never, and Danny's grateful for it, fucking grateful, or will be, once the dust settles and he's sure it's not some big goof, or a particularly painful dream, but he's not sure he'll be as quick as Steve to say they don't matter.
The years before, when he was so sure, and trying whatever he could to forget it or get past it or just deal, on a daily basis, with it, while Steve pushed him at Gabby and commiserated about Amber (Melissa, right, her name's Melissa, not that it matters anymore) and shacked up with Catherine whenever she was in town.
Catherine, who was on the island, when they ran that first UC op with him and Kono, the first time he wore this suit, and he'd think more about the timing of all this, maybe, if Steve weren't already back-pedaling, pointing out why it wouldn't have mattered, because Danny was busy. Making Danny frown, eyebrows pulling together at the word, because busy is one thing, but unavailable is another, and they were both busy, but they both found time for a personal life.
It's a bad excuse, but Danny can't even refute it before Steve's pushing onward, finding something else, adds that.
Words so inaccurate it's almost blinding, and Danny has to take a second to re-calibrate, because it's Steve's turn to be: "Wrong."
Beyond wrong. So wrong. More wrong than Danny knows how to define, because it's a wrong that goes beyond words and down deep into the marrow of everything Danny is and Steve is and they are, together.
All of it, wrong. The phrasing. Looking for. When Danny was perfectly content not to look for anything at all, and only reacted when the world pushed people into his path. And this, this --
Maybe he wasn't looking for it, but it found him, anyway. Crawled into his head and his chest, curled up there, refused to leave. Took up residence to growl and snap at anything that threatened it.
Which he doesn't know how to put into words, but is about to try, anyway, when Steve stiffens under his hands and against him, with no warning and for no easily discernible reason, leaving Danny to watch him in bemusement and no small amount of concern. "Hey, Steve."
Not because Steve's gone tense, though that's never a good sign. Not even because his sentences are a poor excuse at a smokescreen.
It's his face. Gone tight and blank, and unreadable. Shuttered and dark, and drawn in on himself, on some thought, that makes Danny lift a hand to grip his lapel and shake him, drag his attention back to Danny, make him focus. "Hey, knock it off. When you've got me pushed up against a door and you just finished telling me how much you hate this suit on me is not the time to get lost in your miserable rat-trap of a brain, huh?"
Brash and more than a little hypocritical, but he doesn't care: the point isn't to keep tallies or score, to point is to drag that expression right off Steve's face. "What are you thinking, huh?"
Whatever it is, Danny doesn't like it. Not that face. Not the tension. Not the way it came hard on the heels of Steve talking about how this wasn't something Danny was looking for. When maybe he wasn't looking for it, but it came at him anyway like a meteor from on high, and became the thing he wanted.
Fingers gripping the fabric, eyebrows lifted and challenging. "If you're not gonna talk, then you better be kissing me again, McGarrett."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-25 02:27 am (UTC)Steve's trying to brush it off, like they didn't somehow lose three whole years. It's true. Now is better than never, and Danny's grateful for it, fucking grateful, or will be, once the dust settles and he's sure it's not some big goof, or a particularly painful dream, but he's not sure he'll be as quick as Steve to say they don't matter.
The years before, when he was so sure, and trying whatever he could to forget it or get past it or just deal, on a daily basis, with it, while Steve pushed him at Gabby and commiserated about Amber (Melissa, right, her name's Melissa, not that it matters anymore) and shacked up with Catherine whenever she was in town.
Catherine, who was on the island, when they ran that first UC op with him and Kono, the first time he wore this suit, and he'd think more about the timing of all this, maybe, if Steve weren't already back-pedaling, pointing out why it wouldn't have mattered, because Danny was busy. Making Danny frown, eyebrows pulling together at the word, because busy is one thing, but unavailable is another, and they were both busy, but they both found time for a personal life.
It's a bad excuse, but Danny can't even refute it before Steve's pushing onward, finding something else, adds that.
Words so inaccurate it's almost blinding, and Danny has to take a second to re-calibrate, because it's Steve's turn to be: "Wrong."
Beyond wrong. So wrong. More wrong than Danny knows how to define, because it's a wrong that goes beyond words and down deep into the marrow of everything Danny is and Steve is and they are, together.
All of it, wrong. The phrasing. Looking for. When Danny was perfectly content not to look for anything at all, and only reacted when the world pushed people into his path. And this, this --
Maybe he wasn't looking for it, but it found him, anyway. Crawled into his head and his chest, curled up there, refused to leave. Took up residence to growl and snap at anything that threatened it.
Which he doesn't know how to put into words, but is about to try, anyway, when Steve stiffens under his hands and against him, with no warning and for no easily discernible reason, leaving Danny to watch him in bemusement and no small amount of concern. "Hey, Steve."
Not because Steve's gone tense, though that's never a good sign. Not even because his sentences are a poor excuse at a smokescreen.
It's his face. Gone tight and blank, and unreadable. Shuttered and dark, and drawn in on himself, on some thought, that makes Danny lift a hand to grip his lapel and shake him, drag his attention back to Danny, make him focus. "Hey, knock it off. When you've got me pushed up against a door and you just finished telling me how much you hate this suit on me is not the time to get lost in your miserable rat-trap of a brain, huh?"
Brash and more than a little hypocritical, but he doesn't care: the point isn't to keep tallies or score, to point is to drag that expression right off Steve's face. "What are you thinking, huh?"
Whatever it is, Danny doesn't like it. Not that face. Not the tension. Not the way it came hard on the heels of Steve talking about how this wasn't something Danny was looking for. When maybe he wasn't looking for it, but it came at him anyway like a meteor from on high, and became the thing he wanted.
Fingers gripping the fabric, eyebrows lifted and challenging. "If you're not gonna talk, then you better be kissing me again, McGarrett."