Steve stared out at the surf, the neck of a Longboard held loosely in his grasp, setting sun highlighting his furrowed brow.
His mind was cluttered with so many things that he didn't want to hazard inflicting his dour mood on anyone. He'd been sitting outside, though he'd deny he'd been brooding, for the majority of the day thinking.
At the top of his mind was the mysteriously replaced ten million dollars and an orange surfboard.
Danny's orange surfboard.
A part of him in the dark recesses of his mind was slightly ashamed that the fact his partner appeared to be learning to surf seemed more important to him than the money.
However the jealousy burned hotter than the shame—he found himself thinking of various ways to usurp whomever was teaching Danny instead of going over evidence.
Steve was so submerged in his plotting and inner turmoil that he missed the sound of the Camaro driving up over the sound of his own thoughts and the waves.
Danny placed the groceries on the counter and looked through the house for Steve. When his partner was nowhere to be found he looked down the beach.
He sighed as he noticed what he assumed were empty bottles and the small cooler Steve kept for drinks next to the man's feet; there was definitely something on Steve's mind.
Danny shook his head, grumbling to himself about stoic Navy SEALs and began to cook, hoping the food would drag his partner from the shore and out of his head.
Steve surfaced from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps in the sand behind him and he peered over his shoulder at Danny.
The blond stood there in a t-shirt, jeans, and some battered looking converse shoes; probably from a day spent with Gracie.
"You wanna come inside and eat or are you goin' to stay out here and be eaten by mosquitoes? I'm sure they'll love the taste of all that organic and low fat food you try to convince me you eat all of the time."
"Hey Danno, what'd you bring? Pizza?"
Danny rolled his eyes, "No, I didn't bring pizza. I made country fried cubed steak with brown gravy, brown rice, and some asparagus I broiled with butter, salt and pepper."
Steve looked at Danny in surprise, "You cooked? How long have you been here?"
Danny grabbed a few of the empties and Steve's right forearm, hauling him up so they could make their way to the house.
"Yes, I cooked, I can do that despite whatever it is you think about my culinary skills, I can cook many things, not just the basics, you know. As for how long I've been here, close to two hours, Steven, you've been so deep in your own ruminations working your way to alcoholism to have noticed when I pulled up."
Steve pouted slightly, "I am not becoming an alcoholic—and ruminations, Danny? Really?"
"Yes Steven, ruminations. And you coulda' fooled me what with the drinking by yourself in the waning sunlight and then the dark. Besides, denial is the first sign and all that."
Steve grinned at Danny as he opened the door, "Next time I'll call you then."
"You better. Now hurry up, don't want the food to get cold and all."
"Is everything you eat fried?"
Danny swatted Steve in retaliation as he handed him his plate, "No, you Neanderthal, just the malasadas, coco puffs, and the cubed steak."
They settled on the couch together, shoulders touching, and ate as they watched a game.
A comfortable silence enveloped them as they ate, joking and playfully arguing during the commercials and timeouts until their food was mostly gone and there was only thirty seconds left in the game.
Steve was focused on those last few seconds so he missed the longing and worry in his partners eyes.
"You gunna tell me what caused you to go through half a twelve pack and ignore everyone today?"
Steve frowned and turned to look at him.
"I was just thinking about the money. Who put it back? Why?"
"No you weren't. If you were thinking just about the money you wouldn't have avoided us all freakin' day. Now what is it really?"
Steve frowned and stared at the TV, not really taking in what he was seeing.
"It was nothing Danny, really—"
"Don't bullshit me Steven. You and I both know you wouldn't do something like this, wouldn't place yourself in some form exile for nothing. So, what kind of convoluted, unreasonable, insane justification are you going to tell me you isolated yourself for?"
Steve grunted and stood, picking up their dinner dishes as he went into the kitchen. Danny rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.
"Steve, I'm not leaving until you tell me. You may be able to lie in wait for hours on end, but I am far more stubborn than you. I can and will wait for you to crack if I have to sit here and pester you all weekend."
Steve slammed his hand against the counter, "Damn-it, Danny! Can't you just leave it alone?"
Slate blue eyes locked with surf blue and Steve knew that he wasn't getting out of this. The determination in his partner's eyes burned with intensity.
His voice was oddly soft and quiet, yet far more stern than it had ever been before.
"No, no I can't. Something is eating you and I want to know what it is so I can help you through, think of ways to fix it, whatever it is. You're my partner, so if there is something wrong for you then there is something wrong for me too."
Steve looked at his hand holding the dish towel.
"Surfing."
"Surfing? I thought you like surfing?"
"I do Danny. You surfing. You with an orange board in between the two of us in the Camaro and with sand stuck in your hair. That's what's wrong.
Danny looked at Steve in confusion, "I thought you wanted me to learn to surf, thought you wanted me to be 'Kamaaina' eventually."
"I did—I do. I just . . . I wanted to be the one."
"The one what? The one who drives me insane? The one who is going to get me killed because he doesn't wait for backup? The one who will give me an aneurism before I'm forty?"
"The one to teach you how to surf."
Danny stopped, slightly taken aback at the tone in Steve's voice.
"What? Teach me how to surf? Is that what all this is about? You wanted to be the one to teach me how to surf?" He gestured wildly towards the beach and at Steve's face, "All of this, the drinking by yourself and the pouting and avoidance, is because I didn't ask you to teach me how to surf? You're . . . you're jealous that I didn't ask you?"
Steve scratched the back of his neck as he tried not to look his gob-smacked partner in the eye.
"I thought I was doing you a favor by not asking you, Catherine was here, I didn't want to take what little time you two spend together away just so you could teach me how to not fall off a piece of fiberglass balanced precariously in the water! And you're Jealous?"
Steve began to get mad, "I don't care if Catherine is here or not. She's a friend, when she's in town we just get together to scratch and itch!"
Steve had turned around and began to almost violently scrub at the plates they'd been using, absently noting that Danny had cleaned everything else he'd used to make dinner already.
When it was silent for more than ten minutes he turned to look at Danny. The blond was staring at the designs in the tile of the kitchen island, tracing it with his finger tips.
When he realized that Steve was no longer washing the dishes he looked up and their eyes met—it was then that Steve realized he wasn't the only one who had been jealous.
"Catherine? The whole reason you didn't want me to teach you was because of Catherine? Danny, I'm hardly ever with her, and if you haven't noticed, I'm with you even when she's here, especially when you have Grace," Steve sighed, "Who did you ask to teach you?"
"Kono."
Steve felt something in his gut twist violently as he thought about their rookie seeing everything Danny usually hid from the world, remembered that first meeting when they'd shook hands longer than necessary, the make-out session with the underground Gambling and warring gangs.
He felt a sudden sinking feeling as he saw all his hopes fade away like a small breeze, "Oh, she's ah, well she'd be one of the best people to teach you."
He turned back to the dishes.
Danny looked up at Steve's back, taking in the tense lines of his shoulders and arms and decided to take a leap of faith.
"If I had known that you and Catherine weren't that serious I would have asked you."
Steve stopped and tried to breath. There was more being said than the words he used, there always was and he couldn't help the hope that suddenly burned as bright as magnesium welled up inside him.
"I would have said yes."
He put the plates back into the soapy water and walked over to Danny and pulled him into a fierce kiss.
Danny ignored the wet hands as he pulled Steve in closer and tighter against him.
Steve's wet fingers slipped beneath Danny's tee, grateful that his partner had forgone his usually business attire, and rucked it up causing Danny to hiss as the cool digits brushed his skin and nipples, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.
He tore his shirt off and reached for Steve's tank; wanting nothing but skin.
"We're the only people," he nipped at Steve's lips as the man grabbed him just beneath his ass and set him on the island, "I know who could be so oblivious about what the other was feeling."
Steve huffed a laugh into Danny's neck as he set out to mark the man as his, "Well everyone has been asking if we're married."
The scene that used to take place here, and what previously gave it it's M rating, has been removed due to 's current deletion spree. If you would like the full version go to either Ao3 or LiveJournal and look for me under the name: grnidshrk.
"Told ya I wouldn't break," Danny's eyes were glazed in post coital bliss, body laid wantonly against the tile, "Next time though, we do this in a bed."
Steve helped Danny up, watching as the liquid began to run down his leg, "Yeah, definitely in a bed."
Danny grinned, loose limbed and relaxed as he pulled the taller man down to meet him in a kiss that promised lots more to come.
"I'll call Kono and tell her not to worry about surf lessons tomorrow, now let go to bed you big lug."