A Beautiful Mess
One-shot
Disclaimer: I don't own Hawaii 5-0 or any of its characters or plots. I mean no infringement, this is for personal benefit only.
Fandom: Hawaii 5-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word count: 1,995
Rating: R for brief language.
Summary: Danny's still kind of broken from his relationship with Rachel. Steve doesn't care.
Author's Notes:
- You are strong but you're needy, humble but you're greedy, based on your body language and shouted cursive I've been reading. Your style is quite selective, thought your mind is rather reckless, well I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is. What a beautiful mess, this is. - A Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz
Danny's chest aches. It's not a pounding ache, or a fierce ache, really. It's the kind of ache that Danny feels every time he breathes, every time he swallows. The kind of ache that he can rub at, through his skin, but it will never get better.
It started shortly after the woman he'd been in love with, the mother of his child, had presented him with papers for divorce. Danny had signed them because he'd loved her, because he'd wanted what she'd wanted, even if she no longer wanted what he wanted.
Rachel had stopped being in love with Danny ages ago, or maybe she hadn't, but that wasn't Danny's problem anymore. His problem is that Danny hasn't ever quite stopped being in love with her. He'd had his life all set-beautiful house, beautiful wife, beautiful baby girl. He's not sure where that all went, but as each thing slipped away, the ache in his chest grew.
So Danny followed his ex-wife across the country, just so he could be closer to his daughter. Even now, Danny lives mere miles from them but he can't just drop in to see Grace when he wants to. He has to ask Rachel for permission, like his daughter is some kind of rare artifact in the basement of the Louvre. It's messed up, and Danny's not okay with it at all, because he misses a thousand little things a day.
He doesn't get to see Grace eat her breakfast or brush her hair or talk about what she did at school. Danny doesn't get any of that. He gets a few days, here and there. He gets to hope that Grace wants to repeat everything she already told Rachel and Stan, because Danny wants to hear it all. He wants to hear about the rock she found at school that looks like a heart, or what she thinks about a movie.
It sucks that the woman he's still in love with took that all away from him. But Danny's learning to live with it. He is. Even if he has to learn to live with it in Hawaii.
The ache in Danny's chest hits him hardest at night. At night he's surrounded by four walls that aren't home, because home is his little girl and she's not there. At night Danny's reminded of how alone he is on the island. His family is so far away that Danny can't even count the miles. He left friends behind in Jersey, and while Danny's always been the guy who makes friends faster than a comedian makes a joke, the people here-they know there's something wrong with him. No one wants to get to close to the guy with the warning label that reads: I'm alone and I'm miserable and I want to be anywhere other than here.
So Danny spends his nights alone, just him and the ache in his chest and the picture of Grace he has. It's him and his sofa bed and a six pack and a pizza with fruit on it. And it's not at all where Danny's life was supposed to be right now. For one thing, he thought he'd be able to breathe a lot easier.
It's somewhere around there when Danny first points his gun at Steven 'Super SEAL' McGarrett. Steve does something that no one's been able to do since Rachel-he gets under Danny's skin.
At first there's just outrage at his psychotic ways, his suicidal tendencies, and the headlong rush into insanity he seems permanently stuck in. But then- Then there's something else.
It's that little smile that Steve has, the tiny one that lets Danny know he's joking, and the larger one that let's Danny know that Steve is happy. Danny hasn't smiled like that in a long time, but he's pretty sure he manages a convincing fake one.
It's the way Steve lets Danny worry all over him and go off on long tirades about safety. It's the way Steve puts him on his speed dial, and the way Danny does the same in return. It's the way Steve asks about Grace like he really, truly, honest to god, cares.
But mostly it's the way that the ache in Danny's chest, the one that's been there for so, so long, eases just a little when he's around.
Danny never feels alone with Steve like he does with everyone else. He feels like he's in on the joke, like he knows something other people don't. When Steve's there, Danny has his job and he has his partner. It's everything he ever wanted with Rachel, everything he'd thought he had, except it's wrapped up in this giant Steve package and Danny doesn't have the first clue of how to unwrap it.
Every time Danny gets too close to Steve, the ache in his chest starts up again, reminding him of what happened the last time he gave himself to someone. He still isn't over Rachel, and thought he probably never would be. He wasn't ready to have to get over Steve.
He can't help it, though, when he packs two Gladware containers full of salad for lunch on Mondays. He tries to tell himself that the smile Steve gives him when Danny presents him with one of the containers is the same smile that anyone would have given him. But it tugs on his heart and Danny wants it all. He's tired of his sofa-bed and his four walls and his empty, empty apartment.
Months after he meets Steve, Danny shows up on his doorstep. He has a pizza in one hand, beer in the other, and his heart on his sleeve.
Steve opens the door and lets him in, not at all surprised to see him despite the fact that Danny hasn't called ahead. They never called anymore. Danny wonders if that means anything, but he shrugs it off as he follows Steve into the kitchen. Steve is reaching for pizza before Danny even sets the box down. He has half a slice eaten when Danny finally finds some form of clean plates.
Steve raises an eyebrow at him while he chews and Danny abandons the plates for a slice of pizza. They stand in the kitchen eating; Steve passes Danny a newly opened beer, and it all feels so domestic. Danny remembers moments like this with Rachel, but those were so long ago now that the memories have all been nearly replaced by moments with Steve.
He wonders if Steve has an ache in his chest like Danny does. If he feels alone all the damn time. If his empty house consumes him. If he rubs and rubs and rubs at his chest and gets nothing at all.
Danny looks up and his eye catches Steve's and he stares for a moment. It should be embarrassing, staring at another man, but Steve is just… he's Steve and Danny knows he won't care if Danny is staring.
It takes Danny a minute to realize that Steve is staring back and the ache in his chest feels warmer and less achy and Danny wants so desperately to hold onto that feeling. He wants to know what it is about Steve that makes him feel like this.
Danny looks away first because he's too warm, too fast. He feels his face flush as he ducks his head. He's always a little less sure when he's alone with Steve like this. He's a little less loud and a little less everything. He's a little more Daniel.
"Danny," Steve breathes. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" Danny asks. Because if Steve is about to ask him to stop staring, Danny might have a problem.
A finger slides under Danny's chin, tiling it up again so his gaze meets Steve. "Don't look away."
Danny takes a step back and sets his pizza crust down. "What are we doing here, Steven?"
"Eating dinner," Steve answers. "Drinking beer."
"Is that it?"
Steve shrugs in that hapless way of his. "Some people probably call it dating. I call it Danno time."
"Dating?" Danny repeats. "Does that have some kind of weird Hawaii meaning?"
"Sure," Steve says. "It's Hawaiian for falling love before falling in bed together."
"Love?" Danny blinks. The ache he's associated for so long now with his love for Rachel, is how he's begun to think all love feels. But now he's starting to think it's that warm feeling, trying to cover everything else up. He's starting to think that that's love.
Steve looks worried, and it's not one of his normal expressions, so it looks awkward and tense on his face. "Did I misread something, Danny? I thought that-" he exhales sharply. "I thought that's what was happening here."
"No… I mean, yes…" That's what's happening here. That's what's been happening all along. It's the reason Steve's house is so much bigger than Danny's apartment, but feels so much less empty. It's the reason Danny doesn't feel like he's falling off a cliff every morning anymore.
Steve steps forward, right into Danny's space and Danny doesn't take a step back. Steve's hands rest on Danny's waist and it feels so natural to share space like this. Danny wraps his arms around Steve and they're suddenly hugging.
Steve's arms slip around to Danny's back and one of them, or maybe both of them, are holding on tightly. That ache comes back because Danny's not sure this is real, he's not sure he'll get this again. He ducks his head just so and Steve's chin comes to rest on top of his head.
This hug is everything Danny's wanted since Rachel quietly slid papers in front of his face. It's everything he's wanted since leaving his family to move across the country to be closer to Grace. It's everything he's wanted since Danny realized he couldn't ease the ache in his chest on his own.
"Don't break my heart, Steven," Danny whispers.
"I won't, Danny," Steve says fiercely. "I promise."
This was supposed to be pizza and beer and maybe a really bad movie, but Danny doesn't regret what it's turned into.
"You're so quiet tonight," Steve says, running a hand up Danny's back. He turns his head to the side and now his cheek is against the side of Danny's head. Their hug has been abnormally long but Danny doesn't want to let go so he doesn't. "Normally you're babbling about Grace or skyscrapers and traffic. Is everything okay, Danno?"
"No," Danny says. "No, everything's not okay. We're standing in your kitchen hugging and I'm so scared that I'm going to be in love and you're going to leave and I'm going to let you. And I'll be alone to drown my sorrows in shaved ice and malasadas and really terrible beer. I can't do that again, Steven. I can't."
"It won't be like that," Steve tells him. "It won't, Danny. I want this so much. I'll pay for her mistakes for as long as it takes you to believe I'm staying."
"That's incredibly… not fair."
Steve shrugs. "I don't care. I've fought in worse battles for lesser outcomes."
"So this is a battle to you?"
"Didn't you know?" Steve asks, and Danny can hear the smile in his voice. "Love is a battlefield."
Danny groans. "You have terrible taste in music, babe, you know that, right?"
"I know no such thing," Steve answers. "You're just jealous that my music collection expands beyond New Jersey's finest."
He rolls his eyes. "That must be it."
When they finally pull away from each other, their beer is a little less cold and their pizza a little less hot. But that doesn't matter, because Danny feels warm from head to toe. They go back to their dinner, still standing in the kitchen. Danny looks at Steve and Steve looks at Danny and Danny thinks that he might like something Hawaiian after all. Dating seems pretty awesome so far.
