A/N: I've never written for this show before and I've not seen all of the episodes, so if you see any inaccuracies that's probably why! This is set during series 1 episode 3; it might not fit in perfectly but I've given it a go.
It only occurs to Steve when Danny mentions it at the football game, and he can't believe he never noticed it before.
"He talks about you too!" Grace says in a knowing voice that makes Chin and Kono laugh, and Danny holds his little girl close with a proud smile.
"We commiserate," he agrees, giving Steve a pointed look. Steve grins, knowing exactly what his partner is getting at. He can't imagine putting up with this kind of thing from anyone else but somehow, when it's Danny, it's OK.
But there's subtext, he can read it straight away, and when Danny and Grace go off in search of nachos (he doubts very much that Danny intends to bring him any back, but he's not above stealing them over his shoulder) he lets himself think it through. Danny tells his daughter about Steve and it's not only because he has to talk to her about something, or because the stories are probably funny the way he tells them. It's also because he doesn't have anyone else to tell.
Steve can relate, to a point. It's not like he has anyone to talk to about all this either, but it doesn't really bother him – not in the way that he's beginning to think it probably bothers Danny. He's used to being on his own, to going home to an empty house, and just being ready for tomorrow. There's never been someone waiting to hear about his day, but there used to be for Danny. Steve's not known him all that long, but five minutes around the guy is enough to tell you he likes to talk, and after a bit longer you think that he needs to, too.
And there's only so much he can tell Grace. She's so young, and if Danny's working so hard to keep the island safe for her, part of that has to be keeping her away from the work they do. Even when she's older, Steve doubts she'll ever hear much about what her father does.
It can't be easy, then, and Steve wants to beat himself up for not noticing it before. All the same, he doesn't quite know what to do with the discovery he's made. In situations where he has an instant to make a decision that could mean life or death for a member of his team, he can always see the options and he knows which one to take to get them out of there. But this kind of thing is different, and somehow it's a lot harder.
He glances over at Kono, who's yelling at the referee again, and at Chin, watching the game with an appraising, expert eye. He could hand the problem over to them, to where it would probably be handled more sensitively, but he can't bring himself to do it. It's not just that he hates to admit defeat; he also thinks it would only make things worse if Danny found out he'd been talking about such a personal dilemma. But more than that, he finds that he wants to sort this out himself. He wants to be the one to help Danny.
Of course, when his phone rings and all hell breaks loose on the pitch, he forgets all about that. He doesn't remember until they're driving, hours later, between the garage and the pizza takeout on the trail of the hidden guns. Danny's watching the road and he seems tense, one hand resting on the pizza box and the other fiddling with the end of his tie. That's nothing new – for some reason he often seems on edge while Steve is driving – but he's frowning and Steve tries to work out if he looks more stressed than usual.
"Will you keep your eyes on the road, please?" Danny demands suddenly, and Steve realises he's been caught looking at his partner. He watches the road deliberately for a few seconds, then glances back over. Danny is staring at him suspiciously.
"What?" Steve asks innocently, and Danny's eyes narrow. He points an accusing finger at Steve.
"You're up to something."
"Up to something? Why would I be up to something, Danno?"
"I don't know. How am I supposed to know what goes on in that crazy SEAL head of yours? You've got that look that says you're about to do something incredibly dangerous, and it makes me nervous."
He's getting worked up into a full-blown rant, and if that happens Steve knows he won't be able to broach the topic he wants to, and he has a feeling that if he doesn't do it now he might chicken out for good. So he doesn't take the bait, just waits a moment for Danny to stop tightening his seat belt, and hopes that what he's about to do isn't as dangerous as Danny thinks.
"Look, Danny, I was just thinking," he begins, and ignores Danny's loud groan. "If you ever want to, you know, talk, I'm here. Just so you know."
He thinks he's done rather well, but one quick glance at Danny's face makes him a little less sure.
"You're here? What are you, my shrink? What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. Just if there's ever anything you need to talk to someone about, you can talk to me."
Danny's still looking at him like he's trying to identify an ulterior motive, and it annoys Steve, and makes him think he really should have handed this over to Kono. Danny must think he's fishing for information, or maybe he really doesn't need to talk. Maybe he's more like Steve than he figured; if the situation was reversed, Steve probably wouldn't know how to respond either.
He drops it, and Danny doesn't ask any more questions. Out of the corner of his eye Steve catches a few more odd looks being thrown his way, but if the stop at the pizza place and the drive to the boat don't push the subject out of Danny's mind, leaving the suspect in the shark cage and motoring off to enjoy a beer certainly does. Steve mostly forgets about it too; for the rest of the case, especially when they're undercover, his mind's on the job and he's back in his element. When things wind down and they watch the recording of his old football game, he stands and smiles and tells himself that it doesn't matter if he can't help Danny. The four of them work as a team, and he did his job and got them all home safely. That's all he has to do.
It's good enough, but he feels a little emptier than usual as he drives home, a little less satisfied with the day's work than he would have expected. It's a gorgeous evening but he ignores the sky, grabbing a beer from the fridge and settling down in front of the TV. He lets the noise and light wash over him, drains the beer and feels the tension unwind inside him, and so the knock on the door startles him.
He flicks the TV off and stands. Danny's already pushing the door open and stepping inside, and Steve's so surprised that he doesn't say anything.
Danny looks embarrassed, half in and half out of his house as though he's already thinking about leaving. "I did knock."
"Yeah, I heard." Steve stares at him for a minute. Something's different, but he's not sure what. "Do you want a beer?"
"Please."
He grabs two bottles from the fridge and they head out into the garden, where the warm evening sunlight casts long shadows around them. They don't talk much as they sit down. Steve feels like he's exhausted his efforts to reach out today and he doesn't speak, but eventually Danny breaks the silence.
"So this guy did the craziest thing at work today."
A broad grin spreads across Steve's face, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. He was right, but not only that – Danny actually wants his help, or his friendship, or something, and Steve's happy to give it to him. It's a good feeling; a new way of being there for his partner. He wouldn't know what to say if it got too personal, but he thinks Danny probably doesn't want that either.
"Oh yeah?" Steve says, downing a mouthful of his drink and watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. Danny's grin is half sincere, half teasing, but he looks happier than he has done in a while.
"Yeah. This absolute headcase threw a man into a shark cage in the middle of the ocean."
Steve chuckles and leans back in the chair, and he feels more relaxed than he has for a long time, too. "Oh yeah, he sounds crazy. Mind you, I'm sure he had a good reason."
Danny could have taken that line and run for hours, but he lets it go and that's what makes Steve sure, beyond anything else, that he was right. His partner doesn't want to argue, he really does just want to talk. To make sense of the fast-paced world they work in, or maybe just to realise that it could be OK for that world to become normal, because there is something else that grounds him.
Sometimes everyone just needs someone to talk to. Steve wonders if he does, too, but he doesn't think he'll ever be a person who can share everything, and sometimes there are good reasons not to. But, he decides, he'll be around for as long as Danny wants him to be. If he can manage that – and he will, because he never goes back on his word – then he'll be the kind of partner Danny needs. And his ohana will be safe, in more ways than one.