A/N: Just something short that I wrote on Saturday/edited today. Based around the Sarin gas episode…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steven, where the hell are we going?" Steve has just driven straight past the road that leads to Danny's apartment, and let's face it, Danny knows exactly where the hell they are going. And normally, on any other day, Danny would put up a fight, and a damn good one at that.

But right now, despite his half-hearted attempt at pushing something into his voice that sounds vaguely like reluctance, he's happy with these arrangements, may even stretch to ecstatic. Because it's been precisely ten minutes since his discaharge from the hospital, Grace having been picked up by her mother the previous night, and Danny having been left to sleep the night alone, another stark reminder of the feelings he's been denying these past couple of months.

Yes, the Sarin gas episode of the last couple of days has been terrifying, but whilst the effects on Danny himself had been frightening to the point of near-death, the detective is just as worried about the effect it had had on those around him, on two people in particular. Grace; Danny's daughter actually seemed to deal okay. Admittedly, she hadn't been around for those first moments of pure panic, and really, Danny's grateful for that. So by the time she'd arrived, with Danny up in bed and forcing a smile onto his face, yeah, he hadn't felt so bad about the toll this has taken on his daughter. But then Danny's thoughts move on, to Steve. And this is where the majority of his worry is all tied up.

Because frankly, Danny has never seen an expression of such terror on the man's face, and he's seen plenty of such experiences on the ex-SEAL, almost definitely enough to last him a lifetime. But that wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression had told Danny two things. First, however hard and tough the Navy exterior, Steve would pretty much fall apart if he were to die. And that's not to say that the sentiment wouldn't hold true for Danny if their situations were reversed, but Danny would have Grace to hold him together. And Steve, well, Steve has no one. But secondly, - and this is arguably the more concerning of the two realisations - is that Danny suspects, and he admits to this with no certainty and a hell of a lot of hope, that Steve's feelings aren't so far off of Danny's.

Love.

So, okay, maybe he's not there yet, maybe the emotionally stunted guy is still a few pages back, but Danny is fairly certain that the look of mania, the look of absolute anger in his eyes at seeing him on the ground and struggling for every breath, translates into something more than friendship. And it's not that the prospect of it being purely platonic is an impossibility - Danny assures you, it's not - but Danny wants to believe that it's more than that, and God knows, half the island has been questioning their relationship since the week they started working together.

So Danny flings his hands out in protest, turns back to Steve with a glare that's just about as resistant as he can manage through all of these emotions.

"Look, Danny. Please, would you, just this once, would you come without a fight. You're staying with me, the doc said you needed someone to look out for any more side-effects, make sure nothing else goes wrong." And as Steve takes his eyes off of the road for just one moment to look into Danny's, they're soft, blue today as they flicker away again. And fuck, if Danny had thought himself to be compliant ten seconds ago, now he's been reduced to putty.

So with all of the defiance he can muster - one glance at the smirk on Steve's face says he's not fooling anyone - Danny breathes a sigh of resignation, sinks back into the passenger seat of the Camaro. "Fine, but you'd better have beer. And food."

They're home a few minutes later, and sure enough, Steve makes good on his promise for once, serves Danny with risotto and a beer out on the lanai, finishing his own plate before making his way out onto the beach, closer to the water. And Danny can't help but feel that maybe Steve isn't quite as clueless as he seems, maybe the Neanderthal is more aware of this thing between them than he'd have Danny believe. Because watching him right now, back turned to him, gazing out to the water, Danny would happily believe that the man is contemplating the last two days all over again, standing silently and thinking over what he could have lost so easily.

Maybe Danny's being arrogant, a little self-obsessed, but he knows that it's exactly what he would be doing if it were Steve in his position. Frankly, he's not up for playing this game anymore. Because he hasn't missed the lingering glances that Steve has been laying on him, the way his eyes hold their vision for as long as possible, as though afraid Danny will disappear if he looks away. He also hasn't missed those unnecessary touches, the brushes of Steve's fingertips as though making sure Danny's presence is still more than a figment of his imagination.

Without so much as a second thought, Danny pushes himself to his feet, plunging his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he steps barefoot onto the sand, curling his toes before continuing towards the water's edge, progressing to the silhouette of the six-foot-one idiot. He knows Steve is aware of his approach - not once has he managed to sneak up on the man - but he doesn't move, just waits until Danny is standing right next to him.

With a sideways glance, Danny finally turns, catching hold of one of Steve's hands and tugging him around to face him, eyes showing signs of a little too much fluid, and too much tension in his broad shoulders. Steve spares only a quick glance to their entwined fingers, and apparently he's every bit as ready as Danny is for what comes next.

Without a word, Danny moves a step closer, lifts his free hand to the back of Steve's neck and allows himself a gentle smile as Steve purses his lips with a stuttered breath. Who'd have thought, after all that military training and experience, that Steve would be the nervous one.

Danny lets his fingers play in the curls at the back of Steve's neck, waiting patiently until his mouth finally curves into a smile to match his own. "I'm glad you didn't die," Steve whispers, voice low and expression open and honest. And fuck, Danny has to suppress a laugh at the frank statement of truth that, in Steve's book, constitutes as a declaration of affection; they may have to work on that.

So Danny doesn't stop the smile that grows, and finally gives into his instincts, eyes drifting down to Steve's lips as the taller man draws closer, leaning down and finally getting with the programme as he presses a kiss to Danny's lips. And later, they'll make love, but right now, they're content to just hold each other, wrapping their arms around each other as they let their mouths be prised open, sharing breath in the way that Steve wishes he could have done yesterday, when each breath looked less and less possible for his partner. There's not a shadow of urgency at this point, each happy to drink in the solid presence of the other, glad to have made it through another day.

And when they finally pull away, a little breathless and a lot in love, Danny just smiles, buries his face in Steve's neck and whispers the words, "Me too."

A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know…

Thanks, W5Lex xx