![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delicataleCompanion to feels like more than distance between us, but can be read on its own. This is the happier response, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stjarna1984 beta'ed because she's awesome. Still spoiler heavy for the finale.
Steve gets out.
Danny plays with his fingers over his lap as he waits. One two three four, he walks them over his jean-clad thigh, eyes focused on the movements of his own hand as he refuse to look up, his heart in his throat. He puked this morning - he won’t admit that to Steve, but still, he did, breaking his streak, throwing up his morning coffee and Danish in the sink.
He’s got reasons to be unhappy but right now, right now, fuck it, fuck it all, he watches his fingers as he waits with his heart in his throat and the memories of his breakfast somewhere deep in his stomach. Right now, when he dares to dig in, he feels a little bit giddy, a lot happy.
It took them a month. It’s not long, but it’s an eternity for them, so many obstacles thrown in their way to keep this very moment from happening. But they made it happen, working lots and sleeping little. Now Danny sits on the hood of the Camaro in jeans and a plaid shirt and sunglasses and he waits, looking at his fingers like they’re going to keep him from drowning in the feelings threatening to make him feel sick again.
He can hear Jon Bon Jovi from the inside of the car, the CD he brought to calm his nerves on the way in not really helping right now. He knows all the lyrics but singing them under his breath does nothing to empty his head like it usually does. He’s nervous like a teenager on a first date, like he’s passing his driver’s licence, like he’s back in front of the altar on his wedding day. He’s just so fucking nervous.
He tries to organize his thoughts - the things to tell Steve and the things he’s storing for later, when they’re done saying hello, hey, you’re free, you’re back, welcome back, I missed you. The baby isn’t his - store for later. Chin got a dog, a retired German Shepherd that worked with HPD before - later. All his thoughts go to later, later, because right now all he wants to say is thank God and I missed you, I missed you so fucking much.
He hears the fenced door open before he sees Steve. But then he does, Steve strolling out in those clothes he was brought in with, and they hang a little looser on his frame, because they don’t get malasadas in jail and Steve can say whatever the fuck he wants, Danny knows when they disappeared from his office desk, they didn’t disappear in Kono or Chin.
Danny slips off the hood of the car, pushing his sunglasses over the top of his head, but even as he squints against the sunlight he cannot miss the smile on Steve’s face. It makes his heart flutter so much Danny thinks he’s actually going to be sick all over Steve’s shoes, or jump him and have his wicked, naughty way with him, do all these things he’s been wanting to do.
Only he’s not sick, and he doesn’t jump Steve, instead he’s engulfed by Steve’s arms and he finds himself clinging right away, wanting to climb up, hold on until his arms give out. The relief flooding through him as Steve rumbles a breath in his hair makes Danny want to blubber like a baby - a stupidly, stupidly happy baby. Steve smells of generic soap and generic washing powder, but it’s a clean smell, it’s a decent smell for someone who spent a month in jail. And Danny wants to burrow in it, and dig under, claw his way through, never let go. He’s fooled himself thinking there was anyone else to make him feel that way since he met Steve.
“Hey, Danno.”
Danny chuckles, a little watery and he buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, his palms hurting where he’s digging his fingernails in, even through the handfuls of Steve’s shirt he’s got in his grasp.
“You asshole. Don’t do this again, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
Danny pulls away, reluctantly, but his heart weighs a load less then a few minutes earlier, now that he has Steve under his hands, alive, breathing. Danny can feel ribs under his fingertips but that’s nothing a good Williams’ diet can’t cure rapidly. He’s setting camp in the McGarrett household until he decides Steve can deal with being alone - which might be never, but Danny is quite ready to admit to himself that this doesn’t bother him like it probably should - and he’s getting Steve back to his old self. It’s a promise he made himself.
“Come on. I’ll make you some eggs.”
stjarna1984 beta'ed because she's awesome. Still spoiler heavy for the finale. Steve gets out.
Danny plays with his fingers over his lap as he waits. One two three four, he walks them over his jean-clad thigh, eyes focused on the movements of his own hand as he refuse to look up, his heart in his throat. He puked this morning - he won’t admit that to Steve, but still, he did, breaking his streak, throwing up his morning coffee and Danish in the sink.
He’s got reasons to be unhappy but right now, right now, fuck it, fuck it all, he watches his fingers as he waits with his heart in his throat and the memories of his breakfast somewhere deep in his stomach. Right now, when he dares to dig in, he feels a little bit giddy, a lot happy.
It took them a month. It’s not long, but it’s an eternity for them, so many obstacles thrown in their way to keep this very moment from happening. But they made it happen, working lots and sleeping little. Now Danny sits on the hood of the Camaro in jeans and a plaid shirt and sunglasses and he waits, looking at his fingers like they’re going to keep him from drowning in the feelings threatening to make him feel sick again.
He can hear Jon Bon Jovi from the inside of the car, the CD he brought to calm his nerves on the way in not really helping right now. He knows all the lyrics but singing them under his breath does nothing to empty his head like it usually does. He’s nervous like a teenager on a first date, like he’s passing his driver’s licence, like he’s back in front of the altar on his wedding day. He’s just so fucking nervous.
He tries to organize his thoughts - the things to tell Steve and the things he’s storing for later, when they’re done saying hello, hey, you’re free, you’re back, welcome back, I missed you. The baby isn’t his - store for later. Chin got a dog, a retired German Shepherd that worked with HPD before - later. All his thoughts go to later, later, because right now all he wants to say is thank God and I missed you, I missed you so fucking much.
He hears the fenced door open before he sees Steve. But then he does, Steve strolling out in those clothes he was brought in with, and they hang a little looser on his frame, because they don’t get malasadas in jail and Steve can say whatever the fuck he wants, Danny knows when they disappeared from his office desk, they didn’t disappear in Kono or Chin.
Danny slips off the hood of the car, pushing his sunglasses over the top of his head, but even as he squints against the sunlight he cannot miss the smile on Steve’s face. It makes his heart flutter so much Danny thinks he’s actually going to be sick all over Steve’s shoes, or jump him and have his wicked, naughty way with him, do all these things he’s been wanting to do.
Only he’s not sick, and he doesn’t jump Steve, instead he’s engulfed by Steve’s arms and he finds himself clinging right away, wanting to climb up, hold on until his arms give out. The relief flooding through him as Steve rumbles a breath in his hair makes Danny want to blubber like a baby - a stupidly, stupidly happy baby. Steve smells of generic soap and generic washing powder, but it’s a clean smell, it’s a decent smell for someone who spent a month in jail. And Danny wants to burrow in it, and dig under, claw his way through, never let go. He’s fooled himself thinking there was anyone else to make him feel that way since he met Steve.
“Hey, Danno.”
Danny chuckles, a little watery and he buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, his palms hurting where he’s digging his fingernails in, even through the handfuls of Steve’s shirt he’s got in his grasp.
“You asshole. Don’t do this again, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
Danny pulls away, reluctantly, but his heart weighs a load less then a few minutes earlier, now that he has Steve under his hands, alive, breathing. Danny can feel ribs under his fingertips but that’s nothing a good Williams’ diet can’t cure rapidly. He’s setting camp in the McGarrett household until he decides Steve can deal with being alone - which might be never, but Danny is quite ready to admit to himself that this doesn’t bother him like it probably should - and he’s getting Steve back to his old self. It’s a promise he made himself.
“Come on. I’ll make you some eggs.”
