AN: Yay! Another fic. This one is a little more than a drabble and more of a oneshot. I hope you enjoy it. This is unbetaed so if there are any mistakes my bad ^_^;

Warnings: Angst? Other than that, none.

Disclaimer: Not Mine

The Sky I Fell Into

Max Bergman was a reserved man that preferred practicality and logic over his heart. He had been ruthlessly hurt in his past relationship by allowing his feelings to take control. So, to protect himself he'd imprisoned those emotions deep down and threw away the key, swearing they would never be reawakened.

So, when he first met Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett he'd heaved a mental sigh. The commander was reckless, reminding him of a KISS anthem. Oh but that wasn't the worst part. The most worrisome fact was that he was sinfully handsome. Truth was that the depictions in the movies were wrong; in reality no one wanted a hot boss. It made things harder and more…distracting.

However, Max remained resolute in his determination to uphold his vow. When the others went out for beer after cases he was not asked, which suited him just fine. He preferred Star Trek and World of Warcraft to their company. So for months that's what he did every night. He would go home and binge on sci-fi movies, work on increasing his dwarf's powers, or chat online. It was a precious routine to which he clung.

Unfortunately, as his time on the Five-0 team passed he began to actually harbor affection for them. Kono reminded him of his younger sister, Lieutenant Kelly of a favorite cousin, Detective Williams made him sigh in frustration, and McGarrett… He found that he could never place the commander in his makeshift family. He began enjoying their visits and occasional interactions. Once he even wanted to be invited out for beer, but upon realization he'd set his blaster to kill and shot that stupid desire at point-blank range.

During this period he learned more about the commander. The man possessed strength both physically and mentally that was found once in a blue moon. He was stubbornly loyal, staunch in his beliefs and sense of justice, unselfish, and dangerously protective of his own. These qualities Max greatly admired. But allowing himself to feel admiration was his first mistake.

Soon, he began to feel different around McGarrett. He felt a little lighter when McGarrett visited his office for information. The compliments the commander bestowed upon him when his findings held a significant bearing on their case made him feel like warm maple syrup on the inside. He thought it strange, but dismissed it as admiration. How moronic of him.

He realized the danger only when physical evidence surfaced. The commander had given him a smile and gently patted his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Heat prickled over his skin like notes on a scale and concentrated on his cheeks. He had nodded and scampered away, shocked at his own reaction. By The Force what was his problem?

He could not do this. The commander was as straight as Yoda was old. He refused to get attached to a straight man again. He would NOT become another sexual experiment. So he'd gone home, filled his mind with facts about whales, and claimed control of his emotions.

He'd succeeded in remaining unaffected by the commander's presence…for a time. The feelings and their shameful evidence resurfaced when he entered McGarrett's office, finding it empty.

"Max?"

He jerked in surprise—thinking that McGarrett should have some kind of bell on his shoes so he wouldn't scare the ever living crap out of people when he crept upon them—and turned to face his boss. "McGarrett." Sharp eyes detected the stiff way in which he moved. "Are you injured?" His heart—the traitor—clenched at the thought.

Steve gave a tiny shrug of casualness. "The suspect's girlfriend thought it would be fun to hit me in the back with a shovel while I was in pursuit of him."

Well, that had to hurt. "You should go to the hospital." Of course he was well aware that his advice was futile. Steve McGarrett go to a hospital willingly? Don't hold your breath.

The contemplative expression passing the commander's face was his only warning before the man spoke, "you could check me."

"I am not that type of doctor." He swallowed nervously at the thought of touching him.

"But you went to medical school, so you would know if my ribs were broken or not."

Max shook his head surprised at how much he actually desired to touch the beautiful man. He would have declined outright had the man not shed his shirt. It took all of his willpower not to stare like an idiot. "O-okay." How did he get backed into this corner?

Steve sat on his desk, looking at him expectantly.

Max bit his lip and strode to him almost timidly. For Gene Rodenberry's sake did he have to be so freaking perfect? He sat his folder aside and reached out with gentle fingers, touching him. It was a surprise to find that McGarrett's alabaster skin was milky smooth. Okay Max, you can do this, he bolstered his confidence.

Nervous or not, he would examine the commander thoroughly. He slid graceful fingers over his ribs, applying gentle pressure. His eyes fell to the bruise blossoming over the commander's skin and they would have gone lower had he not willed them to his task.

Steve flinched.

Max petted him soothingly, certain that he was going to go into cardiac arrest at any given moment, before continuing. His skilled hands chanced upon a scar and he eyed it, curiously wondering how the commander had acquired it. Throwing off his wonderings he followed the curve of the next rib, concealing a blush when he felt piercing eyes boring into him. Throughout the entire examination his cheeks burned scarlet. When he finished he drew away, fidgeting uncontrollably.

"None of your ribs seem to be broken Commander, but that bruise is going to be quite painful. I would still advise you to go see a doctor for X-rays. A medical doctor, of course." The half grin the man gave him made a rippling warmth spread through his system. He gave a tiny nod when he thanked him.

He scurried out of the room. This was unacc-.

"Max!"

He whirled around. "Yes commander?"

Steve held the folder up in his hand.

"O-oh. My report for the case." How had he forgotten the reason for visiting the commander's office? What was wrong with him? He scampered from the area to his own office. He plopped down in his chair and rested his face on the desk. This was unacceptable.

He refused to acknowledge his feelings. They would only get him hurt. Marco had been McGarrett's type and he allowed himself to fall in love. In the end, Marco had shattered his heart and he had been left alone to pick up the pieces, roiling in self-loathing. He would NOT conform.

The unwanted feelings only seemed to increase in intensity the more time passed. He began to worry for the commander, his heart clenching whenever they went on a raid. He longed to touch the man when he wasn't injured. The night he awakened abruptly with semen staining his boxers he realized it had gone too far.

He had risen, changed his bedding, and eaten two bowls of dry Cocoa Puffs. During that time he figured his fight was futile. He would accept these troublesome feelings but he would not act. It was easier to slather him with affection from afar than to humiliate himself again.

The day McGarrett had gotten arrested and Five-0 disbanded something inside him had withered. The thought of McGarrett in close quarters with violent criminals had frightened him. He knew McGarrett was more equipped to defend himself than most, but that still did not ease his anxiety. What if someone shanked him? Every night, when he was alone in his bed he would beseech whoever deemed to listen to watch over his commander.

He visited him. They talked of random things, Max's heart fluttering spasmodically the whole visit. When he informed McGarrett of his belief in his innocence the look of appreciation in those intense eyes had melted his core. He continued to visit the commander bi-weekly after his initial call.

When he found Steve on the floor of his bathroom bleeding profusely, pale, and grievously wounded he had been overcome with fear. He'd worked quickly but thoroughly cleaning the wound of debris from the crude weapon. His greatest fear was of infection but despite his advice the man had stubbornly refused. Pig-headed soldier. That day had brought them closer and only served as fuel for the fire.

Then, Agent Lori Weston had joined the team, bringing with her a wind of change. He'd detected the chemistry between her and Steve and this had gladdened him in a twisted sort of way. Lori was lovely—definitely Steve's type. He supposed if he perceived that there was no hope, his feelings would die.

He had been wrong. They only grew to accommodate jealousy and emotional agony. He enjoyed Lori's company but he found that he disliked her unjustly. He was jealous of the cow eyes she threw at McGarrett or the way she was alone with him more or that their burgeoning friendship had the potential to evolve into something deeper. He imagined their future. The two would go on to date, she would move in with Steve and the two would be happy while he stood in the shadows wistfully longing for the love he would never possess. The thought gored his heart but he was resigned to that life. It was easier than having his heart intentionally broken.

Then the day that marked the beginning of the end arrived. Steve had walked into the office and Max instantly detected the shift in his usual mood. What was wrong?

"Hey Max."

Max looked up from the body he was re-stitching. "Yes McGa-." He stopped himself. "Steve. Is something wrong? You do not seem injured." The resultant nervous smile made his heart—the Romulan—stutter.

"No. Nothing is wrong it's just—Okay you remember when I was in prison." He ran a hand through his hair then over the back of his neck.

"Yes. I visited you…Oh that wasn't a question." Steve chuckled and Max found that he adored that sound.

"So while I was in there I started thinking." He passed a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that meant the topic was about to get personal. "And um…"

Max's eyes nearly widened in horror. Please no, don't let him reciprocate his feelings. "Please," he pleaded in a small voice.

"Would you like to go on a date with me? Unless!" He composed himself. "Unless I'm wrong and you're into women."

"No, you're not wrong."

"Oh, good because that would have been awkward."

"But…" He overrode the burning urge to agree to the date and focused his mind. "I don't date guys like you."

Steve's expression blanked before his brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I always conclude that they don't care about me too late and end up heartbroken." He looked down, resuming his task.

"Max…"

He heaved a weighty sigh. "Would you please go commander?" He had to say 'commander' because Steve was too personal and he had to distance himself. He lifted his gaze, feeling piercing eyes stabbing him. He wanted to shrink to get away from the aquamarine depths stripping him bare. "Please," he implored, hands clenched into fists.

Steve looked as if he wanted to argue but nodded instead, resignation passing over his countenance before he exited.

Max gave another sigh, hoping that was the end of it. Sadly, he should have been more astute. Steve was a highly trained Navy SEAL, a born leader, and excellent tactician. The man had tenacity in spades.

You see it began three days later. He'd walked into his office and stopped. On his desk was a cup of coffee and cranberry muffin. As if entranced he strode to the items and picked up the cup, popping the cap. The distinct scent of mocha tickled his nostrils, the leaf design meeting his eyes. Okay… How did he know how he preferred his coffee and that he was obsessed with cranberry muffins?

He dismissed it as a one-time occurrence and consumed both treats merrily. But it did not stop. Every morning he would find coffee and a muffin. This went on for several days until he confronted the commander. McGarrett denied the accusation, giving a sound argument and alibi.

So it continued. He soon came to expect the coffee, much to his chagrin. Things began to escalate when he began to find presents accompanying his coffee. The presents were nothing lavish, just small gifts that he would appreciate. These presents filled him with apprehension because they weren't general—chocolate or flowers etcetera. They were tailored which required attention and thoughtfulness.

One day he found a mixed CD with classical music and songs from every genre he enjoyed. Another day he received a light saber keychain. Then the 'Life' documentary after that and a great-smelling cologne at the week's end. Each gift softened him, because it meant the giver had taken their time to get to know him before meticulously selecting a gift.

Again, he questioned McGarrett and again he denied his involvement. So he tried to catch the culprit but after failing in his endeavors for a week, he finally gave up. Sleep deprivation did not mix well with his personality.

It was only after the fiasco in North Korea that he realized the depth of his feelings for his commander. When he was told that Steve was in Wo Fat's clutches he'd felt his nucleus run cold with fear. Wo Fat was a sadist and there was no telling what kind of torment he would inflict upon his commander. After the team, with help from Navy SEALs that knew Steve, had gone to rescue him he'd begged for their safe return. He had no idea what he would do should death take Steve.

When they returned with him, injured but alive, a weightless relief had thrummed through his system. He made it a point to visit Steve everyday during his recovery at home—the man had only stayed at the hospital long enough to get patched up. Every visit he felt himself give in a little more. It was quite frightening.

The fateful day came when Joe sat down with him. Max had been eating Kamekona's delicious shrimp tofu scouring the ocean for sight of his friends.

"How are you Max?"

Max gave a nod. "I am well." His gaze glued itself to Steve who had just emerged from the ocean, surfboard under his arm. At that moment Max wondered if the gods were seeking to break him, because such a sight could not be coincidental. He watched longingly as the brunet and Danny talked animatedly—well Danny was the one making the large gestures.

Joe followed his gaze, giving a knowing smirk. "He loves you, you know."

Max shook his head in disbelief. "He does not… he can't." The last few guys had claimed to love him and in the end they'd shattered his heart into a million shards. Steve he… he could not love him.

Joe inhaled a long-suffering breath. "And why not? You're a good catch Max. Anyone with eyes could see that."

He shook his head, eyes downcast. "But he-."

Joe examined him a moment. "Look Max, I've known Steve for damn near his whole life. Hell I'm the one that caught him with his first girl and boy, on separate occasions."

Max gaped at Joe. He vaguely wondered how that concluded.

Joe only gave a laugh at his expression. "What I want to say is this: In the time that I've known him, I've never seen the kid look so torn up when he looks at someone, except you."

Max turned his gaze to his plate, studying his lunch. "He scares me," he admitted almost inaudibly.

"You don't think you scare him too?"

Max snapped his gaze to the older man. He had not thought of it in that context. He had only assumed that it was impossible for Steve to truly care for him, but he had not considered that Steve had come to him after first overcoming his own reservations. Had he hurt Steve when he had mercilessly declined? Coffee brown eyes wandered to Steve but he averted his gaze when aquamarine depths speared him.

"I don't know what happened to you in your past relationships Max, but I'm gonna tell you that life is too short to hold back being with the person you love because of fear." Then Joe requested an order of spicy shrimp and left to run a few errands.

Max stayed up nearly all night weighing the options. In the end of his ruminations the pros outweighed the cons. He just hoped he hadn't waited too late.

He waited until he figured Steve would be alone. He found him in the break room, fixing himself a cup of coffee. Steve looked up at him peculiarly when he just stood there fidgeting.

"You okay Max?" He poured cream into the steaming cup of brew.

Max bit his lip, seeing Steve's eyes fix on his mouth. He cleared his throat. "If I pose a question to you do you promise to answer honestly?"

"Sure." He leaned against the counter, stirring his coffee.

"Are you the one leaving me gifts?" He saw rather than heard Steve's curse.

"Yeah." He sipped his coffee.

"Why did you deny it?"

Steve inhaled deeply casting his eyes anywhere but Max's face. He swallowed spastically hating his oncoming confession. "I thought you might make me stop."

Max had never seen Steve look so unsure. Ever. Max chewed his bottom lip nervously. "In my last relationship he almost broke me." He heard Steve set the mug down and in seconds, hands were hesitantly grasping his shoulders.

"Max, I'm not that guy. If I just wanted you for sex I wouldn't have pursued you." He stared down at the smaller man, gaze intense.

Max, captivated by the intense emotions swimming in the aquamarine eyes staring at him unwaveringly, swallowed to wet his parched throat. "You—you scare me." He admitted his fingers itching to touch Steve. He saw the other man inhale deeply and gulp down a swallow before his eyes softened.

"Same here," he whispered, "but I want to be with you anyway."

"Why?" He looked down anxiously. "I'm not—look at me and you're…" He raised his eyes when a finger tilted his chin upwards seeing the hard expression on the other male's handsome face.

"There is nothing wrong with you Max. And I want to be with you because…" He heaved a heavy sigh. "I've seen a lot of gruesome things Max as both a SEAL and on this job. Sometimes it's like fuck it I'm getting nowhere. But then I look at you. You're not jaded and screwed up despite everything you've seen. You still manage to have this innocence that makes my days brighter which helps me to remember why I took this job."

Max gazed up at him in incredulity, wondering if his ears were working incorrectly. How could he make a person as extraordinary as Steve feel such deep emotions? "But-."

"Max," he said sternly putting both hands on the sides of Max's face. "I want to be with you, just accept that."

The medical examiner closed his eyes reveling at how Steve's hands reminded him of a gentle nocturne. He recalled Joe's words. He would not let Marco control him any longer. "Okay." The resultant fleetingly radiant smile Steve flashed him liquefied his heart.

He closed the gap between them enwrapping Steve in an embrace, praying the entire time that his gesture of affection was not rejected. Before he knew it, he was encircled in strong arms. Feeling cheeky, he raised his head to look up at the commander. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

He heard the chuckle resonate through Steve's chest, happy he could make the usually somber commander laugh. "I'd love to."

"Max watch out!"

Max ducked just in time to avoid a beach ball hurtling towards his head. His gaze shifted to the children that had been playing with the ball, dismissing their apologies with a kind wave of his hand

"Daydreaming Max?" Malia asked a smile on her face.

"I was reminiscing," he replied softly.

"About?"

"How Steve and I became a couple." He looked down bashfully.

She gave a dreamy sigh. "Aw."

Max grinned and returned his gaze to the ocean. His eyes fell upon the Roman god walking towards him, dripping wet, surfboard under his arm, the sun beaming down upon him like a halo. He heaved a dreamy sigh. Beautiful.

A soft smiled tugged at his lips as he watched his partner banter amicably with Danny. Chin ho, as usual, played the referee. Steve chuckled and dropped onto the beach towel with Max, a hand surreptitiously sliding over his thigh.

"Max was just daydreaming about how you two got together," Malia stated, a warm smile curving her lips.

"Was he?" Steve drew him closer and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Hey come on, no one wants to see that," Danny said playfully.

Steve broke the kiss, licking his lips. "You do not wear jealousy well Daniel."

Danny clucked his tongue. "Jealous? Me?" Thus began another bout of friendly banter.

"Max, how the hell do you put up with this knucklehead for two years?" He jibed, a smirk on his face.

"Patience." Max answered with a twinkle in his eyes.

"And you're supposed to be on my side," Steve quipped lightly.

Max leaned forward and whispered in Steve's ear. "Can I have you to myself for a while?"

Steve rose to his feet, leaving his surfboard. "We're going for a walk."

They walked along the beach, talking at random bursts. Max's hand was clasped in Steve's larger one, fingers laced together. "Love you."

Steve glanced down at him affectionately. "Love you too babe."

Max drew closer to his love. He had promised to never open his heart again after Marco. But then Steve McGarrett swaggered into his life and turned it topsy-turvy. Steve had shown him real love not the distorted tainted version he'd had with Marco. Every day he shared his life with an exceptional individual as the commander he felt blessed. Of course there were times Steve was insufferable.

"Two years."

Steve released his hand and draped an arm around him. "I know. It doesn't seem that long. It also means I haven't screwed up too bad."

Max patted him fondly. "Not too bad." He smiled to himself. Two years and they were still going strong. He just hoped he could say the same thing in 10 years. But that didn't matter because one thing was certain: he would always love Steve McGarrett.

FIN