![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delicataleTitle: This Darkness Would Turn To Light
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Steve loses his sight in an accident, during a case. Who knows if he'll ever learn to cope.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Word count: 5595
Author's note:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kapoosh_kapow has generously looked this over so if there is any errors/brit words left in, it's all my fault. Ahhh, the happy days of a new relationship with a new fandom. My Muse is on overload, I do apologize if you want me gone already. Wrote this at work...I like to hurt my favourite characters, just so you know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, comments are amazing and I love them a lot.
Steve wouldn't mind the constant darkness if he could see shapes and forms from time to time. It wouldn't be as bad as it is right now, he wouldn't feel quite as fucking hopeless as he does right now. The doctors said he might regain some of his vision, but the burn to his retinas had been too bad for him to have a chance to properly see again.
He's always thought, if something like this ever happened to him, he'd rely on his other senses and be fine with it. He'd been trained under extreme conditions that required him to use his nose and ears more than his eyes, but this was not it. This was waking up in the morning and wondering if the warmth he could feel on his face was actual daylight or just an illusion. This was walking down the stairs and missing one step and ending up crying at the bottom of the staircase. This was gripping the handle of the fridge and giving up on having any food before even opening it. This was his own fingers pressing around his eyes to check there was still something in the cavities. This was Steve, refusing to leave his house, more stubborn than anyone else, even Danny, that Steve managed to break after a few weeks. Now Danny brings him groceries, too, cooks him dinner, but it's all strained, between them, a line of soot and blood traced between them caused by Steve's depression.
Not that there was any reason for things to be different with Danny than with the rest of his world, Chin, Kono, Catherine, Mary Ann, hell, even the Governor. Only there was. There was a myriad of reasons why Steve pushed Danny away harder and why it hurt even more when he heard the dejected tone of Danny's voice. All the reasons were tiny, bright stars in Steve's dark landscape - Danny's smile, his jokes, his ability to put Steve back in his place, his willingness to make a life in Hawaii after Steve told him he might have more here than he thought, his stocky, strong body, his touches, subtle or not. These and so many more reasons made Steve want Danny to turn away and leave, leave the two of them behind, so he wouldn't have the burden of a disabled Steve on his shoulders, so he could move on, find another partner, one that won't almost get him killed every day, one that won't lose his eyesight by being careless. One that isn't Steve.
*
He gets nightmares. He remembers it all way too vividly and he remembers the pain way too much. It's a bright flash in his eyes and it burns, it burns so fucking much and he's whimpering and holding his forearm against his eyes and he's crying blood, or maybe he just bit his tongue or his lip and that's what he tastes he doesn't know, but it hurts, it hurts. And Danny is there, somewhere around, yelling, screaming at someone to call 911, he's busy cuffing a suspect, fuck, someone call 911 now. It's all a blur of hurt and Steve's heart is about to implode.
When he passes out in his dream, he wakes up, and the darkness seems to condemn him when he opens his eyes to absolutely nothing.
*
It takes 3 months for Danny to explode. He yells, he vociferates, he chokes on his words, he stutters. Steve can see his hands flailing in his mind's eye, can feel the air moving about when Danny does. He has nothing to answer, no way to explain himself. He doesn't want Danny to go, but he can't stop pushing him away. He's too afraid he's going to become dependent on him, on his help and his stories and his pleas for Steve's opinion as if it still matters.
Steve just holds his ground as Danny storms around him, angry, upset, tears slipping through his voice from time to time. Steve just keeps on saying it. I don't want you to come any more. I don't want to see you anymore. Go back to your life, Danny. It'd hurt like a motherfucker to let the words out without allowing his voice to crack or his knees to give out. Almost harder than waking up every morning and not seeing the sun.
So Danny goes, after all the fight has been drained from him and he keeps on repeating I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, his arms drawn tight around Steve's waist, Steve answering to the hug as fiercely as he can allow. Steve falls asleep on the couch that night, crying himself to sleep. Crying is the only thing that his eyes are still good for, and he never used to cry like this.
*
"You're an idiot, and I hope you know that."
Kono's voice startles Steve, he wasn't focused on anything else than the sound of the waves crashing and he didn't hear her come inside the house and out to the lanai. He doesn't really move, just tiptoes for his beer bottle, finds the puddle of water on the table and then his beer, grabs it, takes a sip. He hears Kono move around, smells her perfume wafting past him. Chair scraping on the ground.
"You are such, such an idiot, Steve."
He has the cheekiness to grin at her.
"Cheers."
She sighs. She doesn't sound impressed.
"I'm not having a laugh, Boss. He loves you. You do know that, don't you?"
Steve closes his eyes behind his sunglasses, even if he knows it's completely useless. It seems to help him focus his thoughts. But right now he can't think about anything else than Danny, and Kono's words. He knows.
"Yeah, I know."
"And you - you love him too."
"That's not the point, Kono."
"Then tell me what's the point? Is it your misplaced pride? Because I will kick your pride in the ass if it's what made you push him away like that. He just wants to help!"
"I don't - I don't want to be a burden to him. It's better that way."
Kono snorts, and reaches out, steals his beer from his fingers.
"You are just full of shit, and I'm not letting this happen, Boss. Just letting you know."
*
His therapist's name is Mark. He sounds big, a little gritty, not like Steve imagines a therapist is supposed to sound like. He doesn't coddle Steve, either, pushes him out of his boundaries, forces him to talk about all these things Steve have repressed - emotions. Steve hates Mark with a fiery passion.
*
It's been two months since he last saw Danny, when Chin reports to him that in their latest case got Danny shot.
*
The hospital room is warm, despite the breeze that Steve can feel coming from the window, but at least it's not too stuffy and it doesn't smell of chemicals and blood and pain. He can hear the beeps of the machines surrounding Danny - he knows it's Danny because Chin guided him to the room, left him alone in there, though - can hear his steady breathing, too. That's good, that's fucking reassuring, and Steve's ribs hurt a little less when he breathes in.
"S-Steve?"
"Hey, brah. How you doing?"
Steve wishes he could just take the sunglasses off and see Danny. See him and not have to imagine that Danny is pale under his tan, his eyes bright and angry. Not have to guess where the wound is, see the bandage. Just see him alive again, not just hear, smell, feel. See.
"What are you doing here?"
"Chin told me what happened. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Not to throw in my face that see, Danny, it's not my fault you get shot; even when you get another partner you get into trouble? Because let me tell you, I have not found myself in this position half as often as I used to when I was partnered with you."
Steve hurts, and at the same time, the animated tone makes him laugh with relief. He steps closer, finds the edges of the plastic chair by the bed, drops in it. Shakes his head.
"No, I wasn't going to say that. I'm glad you're fine."
Danny sighs, and Steve wonders, is he looking back at him, or looking away? Then he feels fingers, on his cheek, big and callused and he wants to lean into it, he wants to purr, to cry. The sudden, unexpected touch makes his heart sing and bleed at the same time, filling up Steve's insides with all sorts of shit.
"I miss you."
Steve licks his lips, grabs Danny's hand in his own, pulling it away from his face, just holding it for a while, his knee bouncing hard. All these sessions with Mark better be worth the time and effort now.
"I miss you too."
*
The pills are ridiculously small and it makes it even harder to take them. Steve does, only because they numb him enough that he can sleep at night and wake up without wanting to break open his own skull and extract all the memories of what used to be, what isn't any more. If he could take all the images out, forget how he could once see and can't any more, he would, in a heartbeat.
But the pills help. They make the headaches lessen and they make his limbs heavier. Between two takes he hates them, contemplates flushing them down the toilet. But then he takes them and welcomes the numbness when it sets in.
He sleeps more than he ever has before, and he's idle and his muscles are screaming at him to do things, to go out and kick some ass, because he can't see but he's still a fucking Navy SEAL. Once he goes running out on the beach because at least he knows nobody will be there, but when he trips and falls head first he spits saliva and sand and hates how he wants to cry again. So fucking weak and so fucking useless. He could have a M-16 in his hands, he'd know how to use it, he'd know exactly where to put his hands and what kind of recoil to expect and how many bullets it sends flying through the air a second, but he could miss his target by a mile. The thought angers him so much he punches a wall, feels the plaster crack underneath his knuckles, and he channels the pain into even more anger, because that's what he's been taught to do.
He doesn't feel like he's getting any better.
*
"I think you should consider not doing this anymore."
Steve lets out a grunt as he feels Danny's hands holding his own, and he can see it, in his head, Danny looking at the damage with a pinched, annoyed look on his face. It would be amused, hell, it'd be cute if they didn't know why Steve does this, time and time again.
He's broken through the kitchen wall already, and the French doors leaning to the lanai are missing a glass panel. Steve has a pretty good idea of how his hands look, but he can't stop, won't stop. The pain makes him feel alive, through the anguish and anger and fear and all these fucking feelings Mark keeps on digging up.
The antiseptic stings but Steve represses the wince, letting Danny take care of him, once again. He would lash out and push Danny away again if he didn't know it was completely worthless to even try. Danny's here to stay.
"Don't think I haven't seen you wince, babe."
"I didn't."
"Right, no, of course you didn't, the big bad Navy SEAL would never wince, now, would he? What a blow to his ego to wince because he's got broken glass in his knuckles."
The tone is acid, angry. Steve bites the inside of his lip, where the flesh is already torn because he keeps on doing it.
"Fuck sakes, Steve. What happens when you break your hand and I'm not around to drive you to the hospital, huh? You gotta quit doing this, I'm serious. Not playing games or being funny here, McGarrett. I get that you're working through some awful shit, but this, this is not helping."
Steve feels some flesh give under the assault of his teeth. He can't explain to Danny how it is helping, but it is, in a way.
"Will you spar with me?"
"Wha - Steven, are you out of your mind?"
"No, I mean it. I don't want to lose my reflexes."
Danny sighs, and Steve expects another fight. Instead he just gets his hands cradled in Danny's, feels Danny's forehead press against his thumb for a moment.
"I'll ask Kono if she wants to help you out."
*
Steve always hides his bandaged hands from Mark. He doesn't want to have to talk about it, so he keeps them under his thighs as they sit, and it hurts, the pressure on his bruises, but it's better than being forced to express himself about it. Even if Mark unlocked some things, made it easier for Steve to depend on people and tell them he's grateful - which he hasn't done yet but he's building up the courage - they've got a long way to go before Steve will want to talk about everything that rips his heart into shreds.
*
It's been 7 months since Steve lost his sight. In some ways, he's better. He leaves the house, goes groceries shopping with Danny and Kono and Chin, attends Gracie's birthday party, learns how to read Braille. He even started taking care of his old surfboards and Kono's, too, fingers scooting for cracks and dings and waxing them all better. He uses his other senses better, can always tell when someone is sneaking up on him, and that's helped by his weekly sparring sessions with Kono.
In other ways, he's worse than ever. He hates that he can't help Five-0 anymore and he hates when Danny asks him his opinion about a case. He still gets violent outbursts and his hands still have to be tended to - it's always Danny doing it. He still hasn't gone back into the sea, and his working out schedule seems flimsy to him - crunches, pull-ups, they're not enough at all. He still feels idle and useless and hopeless. He's still depressed.
The best thing in all of this is Danny, and Steve is not stupid enough to deny this fact to himself. Since he's got Danny back in his life, Steve has realized just how ridiculously in love he is with the tiny, angry man. He has realized just how much he relies on Danny, too, and he doesn't want to, he doesn't want Danny to feel forced to stay, but when he dares say the words, it doesn't change a thing and Danny comes back anyway.
The best thing in his life before was Danny already, but Steve didn't really see it as much as he does now, now that he can't see it any more. But he has no idea how to tell Danny that.
*
"I got you something."
"You have? It's not my birthday."
Steve refrains from asking if Danny got him something like that last time, where he just picked up a package on his porch. Memories of how it was before are still as painful as shards of glass and steel tearing through his flesh, and he doesn't want to feel that way when Danny's around.
"I know that, you think I don't know that? Still. Come here."
Steve follows Danny's voice, his fingers brushing along the table top before his wrist is encircled by Danny's fingers, and Steve lets himself be led through the house, and a door opens, a breeze hits him in the face. Okay, they're outside, and considering the way they've taken, they're just on his terrace.
"Here."
Danny pulls Steve's hand up a little, until he touches cool leather, solid. Danny lets go and Steve makes out the contours of the gift, realizing after just a moment that it's a big, bulky punching bag, seemingly hanging from the wooden beam overhead, because it sways a little when Steve pushes at it.
"I got you gloves, too. The small ones, martial arts one, not actual boxing gloves, you'd sweat too much in those."
Steve feels his words stuck in his throat. They're choking him but he can't cough them out. It dawns on him that he's not a burden to Danny, never has been. Danny cares, and Danny loves him, and Steve's been pushing him away time and time again, as if he refused to understand.
"Thank - Thank you."
Steve forces the words out, his voice unsteady, and he wants to say so much more, because this means a fucking hell of a lot to him, and he wants Danny to know it, he wants to thank Danny for understanding, even when Steve doesn't say the words out loud. Gritting his teeth, Steve holds the punching bag, his breathing labored and his eyes, his hollow eyes spilling tears until Danny pushes his way between Steve and the bag and holds Steve.
"Thank you, Danny."
"Hey, hey, it's nothing. Better that than having you break your hands over and over again and destroying your house. Am I allowed to cover the hole you made in your kitchen wall now?"
Steve laughs, presses his cheek against the top of Danny's head, his fingers fisted tight in the soft material of Danny's shirt.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're allowed."
*
"So, you love him."
"That's not new."
"But you never told me before. That's a step."
Steve shrugs. The fact that he can't put features on Mark's voice is unnerving, especially now they know each other better. Or, well, Mark knows Steve better, because Steve doesn't know much about Mark, besides the stuff that he asked Chin to look up, standard check up.
"Great. Am I free to go now?"
"Are you going to tell him?"
"Huh. Yeah. I guess."
"Okay."
Steve picks up on the scribbling happening next, wondering what Mark is writing down.
"I'm going to lower your dosage, Steven. I don't think you need the anti-depressants as much anymore. Not cutting you off."
Steve wouldn't mind being cut off, taking the pills is harder than anything else, even if they do help in the course of the day when he's got no one visiting, when Five-0's on a big case. He's glad they're weaning him off. He's tired of being numb, tired of being tired. He wants to smile and mean it. And he doesn't feel the need to discuss Mark has decided he's not needing the pills as much as before.
"Okay."
"Okay."
*
Steve walks back inside the house to the smell of pancakes tickling his noise. He hasn't heard anyone walk inside the house, too focused on the sound of his own fists hitting the punching bag, too focused on the tension leaving his shoulders, on the sweat burning in his eyes.
He pushes the sunglasses up over his nose as he realizes someone's around - he's not ready for anyone to see his eyes, even now, 10 months after the accident.
The smell makes him hungry, his stomach rumbling loudly, and he tiptoes to the kitchen, listening to the sounds, trying to determine who exactly is in his kitchen, even if he's got a good idea already. And, yeah, okay, only Danny would happily cook while humming some random song he must have heard on the radio on his way over. Steve finds himself smiling, leaning into the kitchen table, imagining the scene in his mind's eyes.
"What's that song?"
Danny yelps, and there's a squelching sound, and something tells Steve Danny has just dropped an half-cooked pancake somewhere it doesn't belong.
"Shit, shit! Fuck, McGarrett, has no one ever told you sneaking up on people can be super dangerous?"
"Hey, you're the one who walked inside my house without my permission, didn't announce yourself."
"I knocked."
Steve snorts.
"You always said that."
"Well I did. And I'm making pancakes, you said you liked pancakes, right?"
"Yes, yeah, I like pancakes. And I'm starving."
"Hm. Would you go and put on a shirt? You're distracting, I don't think you realize that."
Steve raises an eyebrow, and to be honest, he'd kill to see Danny's expression right now, and not just for his own amusement. He wants to see if the blue of Danny's eyes is as bright as he remembers, and if there are the same kind of feelings Steve feels in them.
"I'll go shower. Don't throw pancakes all over my kitchen."
"You know, I really don't like you."
Steve turns around with a chuckle, his heart filling up in his chest.
*
On the first anniversary, Steve gets rip-roaringly drunk after refusing that anyone come around and keep him company. He calls Danny after drinking two bottles of wine and half a bottle of whiskey, tells him he loves him, hangs up before Danny can say anything, and falls asleep on the grass in his garden.
*
"You needed to get drunk off your ass to tell me this? Really, Steve, really? I can't believe this. I can't believe you. You're such a dick, an emotionally-impaired dick, with a monstrous chip on your shoulder, and I don't even understand why I love you too, because really, really, Steve? You couldn't tell me like a normal, civilized human being, you Neanderthal? I'll have you know I'm pretty fucking partial to being given chocolates and deep-fried pieces of dough, if you plan on winning me over after this terrible, terrible -"
Steve's answering message bleeps, the message too long, and Steve, despite the raging headache storming under his scalp, starts grinning like an idiot.
*
The next case Five-0 is on is hard and tiring and takes Danny a lot of time, drains him from most of his energy, so he holds off from seeing Steve until it's finished and he can focus on something else. Steve accepts it, he gets it - it was his job too, but it doesn't make him feel any less idle, or cranky.
Maybe he should find a new job.
*
Swimming is fucking scary at first. It's a bad day, he hasn't seen Danny in days and barely got to talk to him, too, and he's been alone for ages, and he feels himself slipping back into the darkness, not just in his eyes, but all over him. He refuses, though, he won't let it happen, and that's when he decides to go for a swim. It always managed to calm him before, make him feel serene, quiet inside.
At first the water around his ankles feels foreign, weird. But the deeper he goes in the better he feels, and when he dives in it feels right and easy. He doesn't even think about worrying not to get too exhausted to come back, once he starts, he just swims and swims and swims, the movements easy, his breathing controlled, expanding his chest rhythmically. There's a burn in his muscles after a while but it's a good one, one that he can control and one that he enjoys, one that he knows. And the ocean is roaring in his ears in this fucking perfect way, nature at its best, taking no prisoners if Steve isn't careful enough.
He gets back to shore before his legs hurt too much and he can't do it anymore, and then sits in the sand, dripping wet, head tilted towards the sun, wanting to see it in his eyes more than feel it on his skin. He's okay, though, better. Calm inside, a cease-fire pronounced between his eyes and his heart. He can do this.
*
The first time they kiss, Steve traces Danny's features with his fingers to remember him in another way than just memories. He catalogues the way Danny tastes, beer and chocolate and something a little bitter, definitely male, and particularly arousing. Danny makes a sound at the back of his throat when Steve presses him against the wall near the staircase, and Steve catalogues that, too, sticks a little note to the sound in his head, something that says fucking hot, to hear again.
Danny kisses like he talks, urgent, fast, passionate, and Steve sticks little note after little note in his head, covering the walls of the empty space where his eyes should be with details he wants to keep in. And Danny's enthusiasm is only matched by Steve's, who forgets about his sunglasses and tears at Danny's shirt, hearing buttons pop. Steve gives just as good as he gets, and really right now he doesn't need to see, because he can smell and feel and taste and hear Danny all over him and it's more than enough, it's overwhelming already.
They get naked upstairs and Steve takes a minute or ten to run his hands over the whole of Danny's body, spread out on the bed next to him. Danny doesn't say anything and lets Steve do it, but Steve feels him suck his stomach in when he licks at a nipple, and he can taste his groan when one of Steve's hands wraps around his cock, wanting to feel the weight, the size, everything.
The roles are reversed when Danny pushes down at Steve's shoulders, forcing him down on the bed. Steve opens his mouth to protest, runs his hands down Danny's arms, but Danny tuts him, bumping his nose against Steve.
"Just stay still, will you? You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course, it-"
"Then stop. Let me."
Steve feels the fight leave him, and he relaxes, nodding. His hands are fisted in the bed covers when Danny runs his tongue down his chest, the sensations eliciting a million fires all over his skin, and he's never been this sensitive before but he definitely is now, the hairs all over his body standing on end as he lets Danny explore him back.
He gasps when he feels Danny straddling him, Steve's cock snug against his ass. Steve swallows, running his hands over Danny's thighs, up his chest, all the way to his face, and Danny kisses the tips of his fingers before sucking one between his lips, making Steve buck up and curse. Then Danny is leaning closer, his scent stronger, and Steve tries to guess where he is, completely unfocused right now, unable to know. Danny helps out, meets Steve halfway, and the kiss is nothing sweet, it's desperate and full of moans - and Steve notes that Danny has a whole array of little mewling noises that he wants to hear over and over again.
"Wanna fuck me, McGarrett?"
"Fuck, yes."
Danny guides him, helps him - it's not that Steve has never done it before, but he's glad of the help anyway, because he doesn't want to have to tiptoe around Danny's body when he's not merely exploring, he wants to get his fingers inside Danny without having to suffer through the shame of missing the mark. So he's thankful when Danny holds his wrist loosely and guides him, he's thankful that Danny's quite vocal, too, because he can know exactly what he's doing right and what he's not, and it's also so fucking hot he's losing his mind. He can see it in his head, it's enough, he can see the golden hairs on Danny's chest when he touches them with his free hand, he can see Danny's lips, parted and kissed red and raw, he can see his hips, narrow, rolling over Steve's fingers.
And then Danny takes control - Steve would complain and take the lead if he didn't feel like his blood had been replaced by liquid fire and his limbs weren't shaking with every move - and anyway he hasn't been in control in months, hell, in more than a year now, but right now the loss of it doesn't feel so fucking wrong and misplaced. Right now it feel amazing and ohfuckyeahDanny and again, do that again, and Danny moving over him, sitting on his cock and then reaching up until there's only the head of Steve's erection inside him, only to slam back down, going faster and faster and louder and louder.
And now Steve has his hands all over Danny, touching everywhere he can to create the most perfect image in his mind, combining everything, the taste of Danny's lips on his own, the moans ripped out of Danny's throat every time Steve brushes his nipples, the feelings of the short hairs on his thick, muscular thighs, the smell of their sweat mixing on their skin, all of it and more, more. Danny's tight, so fucking tight and he keeps on squeezing his muscles around Steve's cock and Steve chokes on his breaths, utterly gone.
Steve comes first and he's not really surprised, but he knows he surprises Danny by not going completely limp and boneless, instead rolling them over and kissing Danny all over until he's got Danny's cock in his mouth, sucking him off with enthusiasm and something close to delirium. It takes three seconds for Danny to come, and Steve swallows around him, his eyes closed tight.
When he lays next to Danny on the bed, spent in the best way possible, his body humming pleasantly, he feels Danny curl up next to him, breathe into his neck. Steve grins, thinking for a second about the pills in his nightstand that he won't take in the morning. Unnecessary.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just fine."
"Good."
"Did I make up for telling you I love you in a stupid way?"
"I guess. You did get me malasadas and chocolates."
"And beer."
"And beer. You're a true romantic, babe."
"Mmm."
He can feel Danny's smile against his skin, and it makes him smile, too. So he knows it won't be easy, because they're both so fucking hot-headed they'll still get into fights every day, but it's worth it, it's most definitely worth it.
"You okay if I bring Gracie over for the weekend? She misses you."
"Yeah, of course. I missed her, too. We can go swimming."
Another smile, a soft kiss dropped on his shoulder.
"She'll be over the moon."
*
So being a teacher is a little weird and Steve has to lean on not so usual methods to get his point across sometimes, but he manages. Training military officers is easy enough, he doesn't have to try and be someone else. It all comes back to him, and he can even strip and clean an AK-47 like the best of them, without his eyes. He's not really a diplomatic kind of guy but that's not what they need anyway, they're not college kids needing to be coddled by their professors. And Steve likes it - he gets the bus to the airbase every morning and comes back home early enough that he can go for a swim before Danny makes it back from Five-0, and then they swap stories. It's obvious that Danny's relieved, too. He doesn't say a thing but Steve is no idiot and he knows that Danny was starting to get worried, because Steve has never been a guy to do nothing for such a long period of time.
Steve's not resigned, he's just used to it now. But he won't give up on his life. Even if it's different, even if all the things he used to do, he can't do the same, he still has his friends and his habits and his working out and his memories and it's enough. It's good enough. And one evening, just like that, out on the lanai with Danny and a beer they're sharing, Steve realizes - he's happy.
*
They have this big barbecue on Danny's birthday, and Gracie comes, Rachel comes, even Step-Stan comes. Chin takes care of the tuna steak but Steve looms around, ready to scream bloody murder if he smells anything burning. They all give him presents, and Danny describes them for Steve, until he gets to the one Steve got for him. It's a watch - so maybe it's stupid and not romantic but Danny has been complaining his got broken by a perp on a case, so Steve made the most of it. Kono helped him choose, too, so he knows it's a nice looking one, with a thick leather bracelet like Danny likes. He got it engraved with the date he lost his sight, the date he said to Danny that he loved him, but nothing else. Still, Danny presses a smile into his cheek and a kiss on his lips, right there in front of everybody, and Steve laughs, poking Danny in the ribs for being such a sap.
When everybody has cleared out it's incredibly late and they're both drunk and full of fresh fish cooked on the barbecue, but they still have sex against the kitchen table, Danny bent over it and Steve pounding into him from behind, lips trailing kisses all over Danny's shoulder blades. They go to sleep without clearing everything up.
*
Steve wakes up one morning and when he opens his eyes, he's sure he can see contours and shapes.
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Steve loses his sight in an accident, during a case. Who knows if he'll ever learn to cope.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Word count: 5595
Author's note:
kapoosh_kapow has generously looked this over so if there is any errors/brit words left in, it's all my fault. Ahhh, the happy days of a new relationship with a new fandom. My Muse is on overload, I do apologize if you want me gone already. Wrote this at work...I like to hurt my favourite characters, just so you know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, comments are amazing and I love them a lot. Steve wouldn't mind the constant darkness if he could see shapes and forms from time to time. It wouldn't be as bad as it is right now, he wouldn't feel quite as fucking hopeless as he does right now. The doctors said he might regain some of his vision, but the burn to his retinas had been too bad for him to have a chance to properly see again.
He's always thought, if something like this ever happened to him, he'd rely on his other senses and be fine with it. He'd been trained under extreme conditions that required him to use his nose and ears more than his eyes, but this was not it. This was waking up in the morning and wondering if the warmth he could feel on his face was actual daylight or just an illusion. This was walking down the stairs and missing one step and ending up crying at the bottom of the staircase. This was gripping the handle of the fridge and giving up on having any food before even opening it. This was his own fingers pressing around his eyes to check there was still something in the cavities. This was Steve, refusing to leave his house, more stubborn than anyone else, even Danny, that Steve managed to break after a few weeks. Now Danny brings him groceries, too, cooks him dinner, but it's all strained, between them, a line of soot and blood traced between them caused by Steve's depression.
Not that there was any reason for things to be different with Danny than with the rest of his world, Chin, Kono, Catherine, Mary Ann, hell, even the Governor. Only there was. There was a myriad of reasons why Steve pushed Danny away harder and why it hurt even more when he heard the dejected tone of Danny's voice. All the reasons were tiny, bright stars in Steve's dark landscape - Danny's smile, his jokes, his ability to put Steve back in his place, his willingness to make a life in Hawaii after Steve told him he might have more here than he thought, his stocky, strong body, his touches, subtle or not. These and so many more reasons made Steve want Danny to turn away and leave, leave the two of them behind, so he wouldn't have the burden of a disabled Steve on his shoulders, so he could move on, find another partner, one that won't almost get him killed every day, one that won't lose his eyesight by being careless. One that isn't Steve.
*
He gets nightmares. He remembers it all way too vividly and he remembers the pain way too much. It's a bright flash in his eyes and it burns, it burns so fucking much and he's whimpering and holding his forearm against his eyes and he's crying blood, or maybe he just bit his tongue or his lip and that's what he tastes he doesn't know, but it hurts, it hurts. And Danny is there, somewhere around, yelling, screaming at someone to call 911, he's busy cuffing a suspect, fuck, someone call 911 now. It's all a blur of hurt and Steve's heart is about to implode.
When he passes out in his dream, he wakes up, and the darkness seems to condemn him when he opens his eyes to absolutely nothing.
*
It takes 3 months for Danny to explode. He yells, he vociferates, he chokes on his words, he stutters. Steve can see his hands flailing in his mind's eye, can feel the air moving about when Danny does. He has nothing to answer, no way to explain himself. He doesn't want Danny to go, but he can't stop pushing him away. He's too afraid he's going to become dependent on him, on his help and his stories and his pleas for Steve's opinion as if it still matters.
Steve just holds his ground as Danny storms around him, angry, upset, tears slipping through his voice from time to time. Steve just keeps on saying it. I don't want you to come any more. I don't want to see you anymore. Go back to your life, Danny. It'd hurt like a motherfucker to let the words out without allowing his voice to crack or his knees to give out. Almost harder than waking up every morning and not seeing the sun.
So Danny goes, after all the fight has been drained from him and he keeps on repeating I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, his arms drawn tight around Steve's waist, Steve answering to the hug as fiercely as he can allow. Steve falls asleep on the couch that night, crying himself to sleep. Crying is the only thing that his eyes are still good for, and he never used to cry like this.
*
"You're an idiot, and I hope you know that."
Kono's voice startles Steve, he wasn't focused on anything else than the sound of the waves crashing and he didn't hear her come inside the house and out to the lanai. He doesn't really move, just tiptoes for his beer bottle, finds the puddle of water on the table and then his beer, grabs it, takes a sip. He hears Kono move around, smells her perfume wafting past him. Chair scraping on the ground.
"You are such, such an idiot, Steve."
He has the cheekiness to grin at her.
"Cheers."
She sighs. She doesn't sound impressed.
"I'm not having a laugh, Boss. He loves you. You do know that, don't you?"
Steve closes his eyes behind his sunglasses, even if he knows it's completely useless. It seems to help him focus his thoughts. But right now he can't think about anything else than Danny, and Kono's words. He knows.
"Yeah, I know."
"And you - you love him too."
"That's not the point, Kono."
"Then tell me what's the point? Is it your misplaced pride? Because I will kick your pride in the ass if it's what made you push him away like that. He just wants to help!"
"I don't - I don't want to be a burden to him. It's better that way."
Kono snorts, and reaches out, steals his beer from his fingers.
"You are just full of shit, and I'm not letting this happen, Boss. Just letting you know."
*
His therapist's name is Mark. He sounds big, a little gritty, not like Steve imagines a therapist is supposed to sound like. He doesn't coddle Steve, either, pushes him out of his boundaries, forces him to talk about all these things Steve have repressed - emotions. Steve hates Mark with a fiery passion.
*
It's been two months since he last saw Danny, when Chin reports to him that in their latest case got Danny shot.
*
The hospital room is warm, despite the breeze that Steve can feel coming from the window, but at least it's not too stuffy and it doesn't smell of chemicals and blood and pain. He can hear the beeps of the machines surrounding Danny - he knows it's Danny because Chin guided him to the room, left him alone in there, though - can hear his steady breathing, too. That's good, that's fucking reassuring, and Steve's ribs hurt a little less when he breathes in.
"S-Steve?"
"Hey, brah. How you doing?"
Steve wishes he could just take the sunglasses off and see Danny. See him and not have to imagine that Danny is pale under his tan, his eyes bright and angry. Not have to guess where the wound is, see the bandage. Just see him alive again, not just hear, smell, feel. See.
"What are you doing here?"
"Chin told me what happened. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Not to throw in my face that see, Danny, it's not my fault you get shot; even when you get another partner you get into trouble? Because let me tell you, I have not found myself in this position half as often as I used to when I was partnered with you."
Steve hurts, and at the same time, the animated tone makes him laugh with relief. He steps closer, finds the edges of the plastic chair by the bed, drops in it. Shakes his head.
"No, I wasn't going to say that. I'm glad you're fine."
Danny sighs, and Steve wonders, is he looking back at him, or looking away? Then he feels fingers, on his cheek, big and callused and he wants to lean into it, he wants to purr, to cry. The sudden, unexpected touch makes his heart sing and bleed at the same time, filling up Steve's insides with all sorts of shit.
"I miss you."
Steve licks his lips, grabs Danny's hand in his own, pulling it away from his face, just holding it for a while, his knee bouncing hard. All these sessions with Mark better be worth the time and effort now.
"I miss you too."
*
The pills are ridiculously small and it makes it even harder to take them. Steve does, only because they numb him enough that he can sleep at night and wake up without wanting to break open his own skull and extract all the memories of what used to be, what isn't any more. If he could take all the images out, forget how he could once see and can't any more, he would, in a heartbeat.
But the pills help. They make the headaches lessen and they make his limbs heavier. Between two takes he hates them, contemplates flushing them down the toilet. But then he takes them and welcomes the numbness when it sets in.
He sleeps more than he ever has before, and he's idle and his muscles are screaming at him to do things, to go out and kick some ass, because he can't see but he's still a fucking Navy SEAL. Once he goes running out on the beach because at least he knows nobody will be there, but when he trips and falls head first he spits saliva and sand and hates how he wants to cry again. So fucking weak and so fucking useless. He could have a M-16 in his hands, he'd know how to use it, he'd know exactly where to put his hands and what kind of recoil to expect and how many bullets it sends flying through the air a second, but he could miss his target by a mile. The thought angers him so much he punches a wall, feels the plaster crack underneath his knuckles, and he channels the pain into even more anger, because that's what he's been taught to do.
He doesn't feel like he's getting any better.
*
"I think you should consider not doing this anymore."
Steve lets out a grunt as he feels Danny's hands holding his own, and he can see it, in his head, Danny looking at the damage with a pinched, annoyed look on his face. It would be amused, hell, it'd be cute if they didn't know why Steve does this, time and time again.
He's broken through the kitchen wall already, and the French doors leaning to the lanai are missing a glass panel. Steve has a pretty good idea of how his hands look, but he can't stop, won't stop. The pain makes him feel alive, through the anguish and anger and fear and all these fucking feelings Mark keeps on digging up.
The antiseptic stings but Steve represses the wince, letting Danny take care of him, once again. He would lash out and push Danny away again if he didn't know it was completely worthless to even try. Danny's here to stay.
"Don't think I haven't seen you wince, babe."
"I didn't."
"Right, no, of course you didn't, the big bad Navy SEAL would never wince, now, would he? What a blow to his ego to wince because he's got broken glass in his knuckles."
The tone is acid, angry. Steve bites the inside of his lip, where the flesh is already torn because he keeps on doing it.
"Fuck sakes, Steve. What happens when you break your hand and I'm not around to drive you to the hospital, huh? You gotta quit doing this, I'm serious. Not playing games or being funny here, McGarrett. I get that you're working through some awful shit, but this, this is not helping."
Steve feels some flesh give under the assault of his teeth. He can't explain to Danny how it is helping, but it is, in a way.
"Will you spar with me?"
"Wha - Steven, are you out of your mind?"
"No, I mean it. I don't want to lose my reflexes."
Danny sighs, and Steve expects another fight. Instead he just gets his hands cradled in Danny's, feels Danny's forehead press against his thumb for a moment.
"I'll ask Kono if she wants to help you out."
*
Steve always hides his bandaged hands from Mark. He doesn't want to have to talk about it, so he keeps them under his thighs as they sit, and it hurts, the pressure on his bruises, but it's better than being forced to express himself about it. Even if Mark unlocked some things, made it easier for Steve to depend on people and tell them he's grateful - which he hasn't done yet but he's building up the courage - they've got a long way to go before Steve will want to talk about everything that rips his heart into shreds.
*
It's been 7 months since Steve lost his sight. In some ways, he's better. He leaves the house, goes groceries shopping with Danny and Kono and Chin, attends Gracie's birthday party, learns how to read Braille. He even started taking care of his old surfboards and Kono's, too, fingers scooting for cracks and dings and waxing them all better. He uses his other senses better, can always tell when someone is sneaking up on him, and that's helped by his weekly sparring sessions with Kono.
In other ways, he's worse than ever. He hates that he can't help Five-0 anymore and he hates when Danny asks him his opinion about a case. He still gets violent outbursts and his hands still have to be tended to - it's always Danny doing it. He still hasn't gone back into the sea, and his working out schedule seems flimsy to him - crunches, pull-ups, they're not enough at all. He still feels idle and useless and hopeless. He's still depressed.
The best thing in all of this is Danny, and Steve is not stupid enough to deny this fact to himself. Since he's got Danny back in his life, Steve has realized just how ridiculously in love he is with the tiny, angry man. He has realized just how much he relies on Danny, too, and he doesn't want to, he doesn't want Danny to feel forced to stay, but when he dares say the words, it doesn't change a thing and Danny comes back anyway.
The best thing in his life before was Danny already, but Steve didn't really see it as much as he does now, now that he can't see it any more. But he has no idea how to tell Danny that.
*
"I got you something."
"You have? It's not my birthday."
Steve refrains from asking if Danny got him something like that last time, where he just picked up a package on his porch. Memories of how it was before are still as painful as shards of glass and steel tearing through his flesh, and he doesn't want to feel that way when Danny's around.
"I know that, you think I don't know that? Still. Come here."
Steve follows Danny's voice, his fingers brushing along the table top before his wrist is encircled by Danny's fingers, and Steve lets himself be led through the house, and a door opens, a breeze hits him in the face. Okay, they're outside, and considering the way they've taken, they're just on his terrace.
"Here."
Danny pulls Steve's hand up a little, until he touches cool leather, solid. Danny lets go and Steve makes out the contours of the gift, realizing after just a moment that it's a big, bulky punching bag, seemingly hanging from the wooden beam overhead, because it sways a little when Steve pushes at it.
"I got you gloves, too. The small ones, martial arts one, not actual boxing gloves, you'd sweat too much in those."
Steve feels his words stuck in his throat. They're choking him but he can't cough them out. It dawns on him that he's not a burden to Danny, never has been. Danny cares, and Danny loves him, and Steve's been pushing him away time and time again, as if he refused to understand.
"Thank - Thank you."
Steve forces the words out, his voice unsteady, and he wants to say so much more, because this means a fucking hell of a lot to him, and he wants Danny to know it, he wants to thank Danny for understanding, even when Steve doesn't say the words out loud. Gritting his teeth, Steve holds the punching bag, his breathing labored and his eyes, his hollow eyes spilling tears until Danny pushes his way between Steve and the bag and holds Steve.
"Thank you, Danny."
"Hey, hey, it's nothing. Better that than having you break your hands over and over again and destroying your house. Am I allowed to cover the hole you made in your kitchen wall now?"
Steve laughs, presses his cheek against the top of Danny's head, his fingers fisted tight in the soft material of Danny's shirt.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're allowed."
*
"So, you love him."
"That's not new."
"But you never told me before. That's a step."
Steve shrugs. The fact that he can't put features on Mark's voice is unnerving, especially now they know each other better. Or, well, Mark knows Steve better, because Steve doesn't know much about Mark, besides the stuff that he asked Chin to look up, standard check up.
"Great. Am I free to go now?"
"Are you going to tell him?"
"Huh. Yeah. I guess."
"Okay."
Steve picks up on the scribbling happening next, wondering what Mark is writing down.
"I'm going to lower your dosage, Steven. I don't think you need the anti-depressants as much anymore. Not cutting you off."
Steve wouldn't mind being cut off, taking the pills is harder than anything else, even if they do help in the course of the day when he's got no one visiting, when Five-0's on a big case. He's glad they're weaning him off. He's tired of being numb, tired of being tired. He wants to smile and mean it. And he doesn't feel the need to discuss Mark has decided he's not needing the pills as much as before.
"Okay."
"Okay."
*
Steve walks back inside the house to the smell of pancakes tickling his noise. He hasn't heard anyone walk inside the house, too focused on the sound of his own fists hitting the punching bag, too focused on the tension leaving his shoulders, on the sweat burning in his eyes.
He pushes the sunglasses up over his nose as he realizes someone's around - he's not ready for anyone to see his eyes, even now, 10 months after the accident.
The smell makes him hungry, his stomach rumbling loudly, and he tiptoes to the kitchen, listening to the sounds, trying to determine who exactly is in his kitchen, even if he's got a good idea already. And, yeah, okay, only Danny would happily cook while humming some random song he must have heard on the radio on his way over. Steve finds himself smiling, leaning into the kitchen table, imagining the scene in his mind's eyes.
"What's that song?"
Danny yelps, and there's a squelching sound, and something tells Steve Danny has just dropped an half-cooked pancake somewhere it doesn't belong.
"Shit, shit! Fuck, McGarrett, has no one ever told you sneaking up on people can be super dangerous?"
"Hey, you're the one who walked inside my house without my permission, didn't announce yourself."
"I knocked."
Steve snorts.
"You always said that."
"Well I did. And I'm making pancakes, you said you liked pancakes, right?"
"Yes, yeah, I like pancakes. And I'm starving."
"Hm. Would you go and put on a shirt? You're distracting, I don't think you realize that."
Steve raises an eyebrow, and to be honest, he'd kill to see Danny's expression right now, and not just for his own amusement. He wants to see if the blue of Danny's eyes is as bright as he remembers, and if there are the same kind of feelings Steve feels in them.
"I'll go shower. Don't throw pancakes all over my kitchen."
"You know, I really don't like you."
Steve turns around with a chuckle, his heart filling up in his chest.
*
On the first anniversary, Steve gets rip-roaringly drunk after refusing that anyone come around and keep him company. He calls Danny after drinking two bottles of wine and half a bottle of whiskey, tells him he loves him, hangs up before Danny can say anything, and falls asleep on the grass in his garden.
*
"You needed to get drunk off your ass to tell me this? Really, Steve, really? I can't believe this. I can't believe you. You're such a dick, an emotionally-impaired dick, with a monstrous chip on your shoulder, and I don't even understand why I love you too, because really, really, Steve? You couldn't tell me like a normal, civilized human being, you Neanderthal? I'll have you know I'm pretty fucking partial to being given chocolates and deep-fried pieces of dough, if you plan on winning me over after this terrible, terrible -"
Steve's answering message bleeps, the message too long, and Steve, despite the raging headache storming under his scalp, starts grinning like an idiot.
*
The next case Five-0 is on is hard and tiring and takes Danny a lot of time, drains him from most of his energy, so he holds off from seeing Steve until it's finished and he can focus on something else. Steve accepts it, he gets it - it was his job too, but it doesn't make him feel any less idle, or cranky.
Maybe he should find a new job.
*
Swimming is fucking scary at first. It's a bad day, he hasn't seen Danny in days and barely got to talk to him, too, and he's been alone for ages, and he feels himself slipping back into the darkness, not just in his eyes, but all over him. He refuses, though, he won't let it happen, and that's when he decides to go for a swim. It always managed to calm him before, make him feel serene, quiet inside.
At first the water around his ankles feels foreign, weird. But the deeper he goes in the better he feels, and when he dives in it feels right and easy. He doesn't even think about worrying not to get too exhausted to come back, once he starts, he just swims and swims and swims, the movements easy, his breathing controlled, expanding his chest rhythmically. There's a burn in his muscles after a while but it's a good one, one that he can control and one that he enjoys, one that he knows. And the ocean is roaring in his ears in this fucking perfect way, nature at its best, taking no prisoners if Steve isn't careful enough.
He gets back to shore before his legs hurt too much and he can't do it anymore, and then sits in the sand, dripping wet, head tilted towards the sun, wanting to see it in his eyes more than feel it on his skin. He's okay, though, better. Calm inside, a cease-fire pronounced between his eyes and his heart. He can do this.
*
The first time they kiss, Steve traces Danny's features with his fingers to remember him in another way than just memories. He catalogues the way Danny tastes, beer and chocolate and something a little bitter, definitely male, and particularly arousing. Danny makes a sound at the back of his throat when Steve presses him against the wall near the staircase, and Steve catalogues that, too, sticks a little note to the sound in his head, something that says fucking hot, to hear again.
Danny kisses like he talks, urgent, fast, passionate, and Steve sticks little note after little note in his head, covering the walls of the empty space where his eyes should be with details he wants to keep in. And Danny's enthusiasm is only matched by Steve's, who forgets about his sunglasses and tears at Danny's shirt, hearing buttons pop. Steve gives just as good as he gets, and really right now he doesn't need to see, because he can smell and feel and taste and hear Danny all over him and it's more than enough, it's overwhelming already.
They get naked upstairs and Steve takes a minute or ten to run his hands over the whole of Danny's body, spread out on the bed next to him. Danny doesn't say anything and lets Steve do it, but Steve feels him suck his stomach in when he licks at a nipple, and he can taste his groan when one of Steve's hands wraps around his cock, wanting to feel the weight, the size, everything.
The roles are reversed when Danny pushes down at Steve's shoulders, forcing him down on the bed. Steve opens his mouth to protest, runs his hands down Danny's arms, but Danny tuts him, bumping his nose against Steve.
"Just stay still, will you? You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course, it-"
"Then stop. Let me."
Steve feels the fight leave him, and he relaxes, nodding. His hands are fisted in the bed covers when Danny runs his tongue down his chest, the sensations eliciting a million fires all over his skin, and he's never been this sensitive before but he definitely is now, the hairs all over his body standing on end as he lets Danny explore him back.
He gasps when he feels Danny straddling him, Steve's cock snug against his ass. Steve swallows, running his hands over Danny's thighs, up his chest, all the way to his face, and Danny kisses the tips of his fingers before sucking one between his lips, making Steve buck up and curse. Then Danny is leaning closer, his scent stronger, and Steve tries to guess where he is, completely unfocused right now, unable to know. Danny helps out, meets Steve halfway, and the kiss is nothing sweet, it's desperate and full of moans - and Steve notes that Danny has a whole array of little mewling noises that he wants to hear over and over again.
"Wanna fuck me, McGarrett?"
"Fuck, yes."
Danny guides him, helps him - it's not that Steve has never done it before, but he's glad of the help anyway, because he doesn't want to have to tiptoe around Danny's body when he's not merely exploring, he wants to get his fingers inside Danny without having to suffer through the shame of missing the mark. So he's thankful when Danny holds his wrist loosely and guides him, he's thankful that Danny's quite vocal, too, because he can know exactly what he's doing right and what he's not, and it's also so fucking hot he's losing his mind. He can see it in his head, it's enough, he can see the golden hairs on Danny's chest when he touches them with his free hand, he can see Danny's lips, parted and kissed red and raw, he can see his hips, narrow, rolling over Steve's fingers.
And then Danny takes control - Steve would complain and take the lead if he didn't feel like his blood had been replaced by liquid fire and his limbs weren't shaking with every move - and anyway he hasn't been in control in months, hell, in more than a year now, but right now the loss of it doesn't feel so fucking wrong and misplaced. Right now it feel amazing and ohfuckyeahDanny and again, do that again, and Danny moving over him, sitting on his cock and then reaching up until there's only the head of Steve's erection inside him, only to slam back down, going faster and faster and louder and louder.
And now Steve has his hands all over Danny, touching everywhere he can to create the most perfect image in his mind, combining everything, the taste of Danny's lips on his own, the moans ripped out of Danny's throat every time Steve brushes his nipples, the feelings of the short hairs on his thick, muscular thighs, the smell of their sweat mixing on their skin, all of it and more, more. Danny's tight, so fucking tight and he keeps on squeezing his muscles around Steve's cock and Steve chokes on his breaths, utterly gone.
Steve comes first and he's not really surprised, but he knows he surprises Danny by not going completely limp and boneless, instead rolling them over and kissing Danny all over until he's got Danny's cock in his mouth, sucking him off with enthusiasm and something close to delirium. It takes three seconds for Danny to come, and Steve swallows around him, his eyes closed tight.
When he lays next to Danny on the bed, spent in the best way possible, his body humming pleasantly, he feels Danny curl up next to him, breathe into his neck. Steve grins, thinking for a second about the pills in his nightstand that he won't take in the morning. Unnecessary.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just fine."
"Good."
"Did I make up for telling you I love you in a stupid way?"
"I guess. You did get me malasadas and chocolates."
"And beer."
"And beer. You're a true romantic, babe."
"Mmm."
He can feel Danny's smile against his skin, and it makes him smile, too. So he knows it won't be easy, because they're both so fucking hot-headed they'll still get into fights every day, but it's worth it, it's most definitely worth it.
"You okay if I bring Gracie over for the weekend? She misses you."
"Yeah, of course. I missed her, too. We can go swimming."
Another smile, a soft kiss dropped on his shoulder.
"She'll be over the moon."
*
So being a teacher is a little weird and Steve has to lean on not so usual methods to get his point across sometimes, but he manages. Training military officers is easy enough, he doesn't have to try and be someone else. It all comes back to him, and he can even strip and clean an AK-47 like the best of them, without his eyes. He's not really a diplomatic kind of guy but that's not what they need anyway, they're not college kids needing to be coddled by their professors. And Steve likes it - he gets the bus to the airbase every morning and comes back home early enough that he can go for a swim before Danny makes it back from Five-0, and then they swap stories. It's obvious that Danny's relieved, too. He doesn't say a thing but Steve is no idiot and he knows that Danny was starting to get worried, because Steve has never been a guy to do nothing for such a long period of time.
Steve's not resigned, he's just used to it now. But he won't give up on his life. Even if it's different, even if all the things he used to do, he can't do the same, he still has his friends and his habits and his working out and his memories and it's enough. It's good enough. And one evening, just like that, out on the lanai with Danny and a beer they're sharing, Steve realizes - he's happy.
*
They have this big barbecue on Danny's birthday, and Gracie comes, Rachel comes, even Step-Stan comes. Chin takes care of the tuna steak but Steve looms around, ready to scream bloody murder if he smells anything burning. They all give him presents, and Danny describes them for Steve, until he gets to the one Steve got for him. It's a watch - so maybe it's stupid and not romantic but Danny has been complaining his got broken by a perp on a case, so Steve made the most of it. Kono helped him choose, too, so he knows it's a nice looking one, with a thick leather bracelet like Danny likes. He got it engraved with the date he lost his sight, the date he said to Danny that he loved him, but nothing else. Still, Danny presses a smile into his cheek and a kiss on his lips, right there in front of everybody, and Steve laughs, poking Danny in the ribs for being such a sap.
When everybody has cleared out it's incredibly late and they're both drunk and full of fresh fish cooked on the barbecue, but they still have sex against the kitchen table, Danny bent over it and Steve pounding into him from behind, lips trailing kisses all over Danny's shoulder blades. They go to sleep without clearing everything up.
*
Steve wakes up one morning and when he opens his eyes, he's sure he can see contours and shapes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-04-24 10:38 pm (UTC)Ugh, oh my God, how does this not have more comments? *___* Was this posted elsewhere or something? SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL. It's so amazing dgjbfdkgfsjhgbvv.
Steve sticks little note after little note in his head, covering the walls of the empty space where his eyes should be with details he wants to keep in.
♥♥♥ perfect
no subject
Date: 2011-04-25 07:23 pm (UTC)