Title: Weak Moment
Author: thewhiterose3
Pairing: Danny/Steve, slash
Disclaimer: Not mine. I only wish they were.
Rating: T, for language.
A/N: Coda to 1.16 E Malama
After watching what in weak moments still feels like his whole damn world walk away with another man, Danny can feel the breakdown coming. And this, my friend, is a weak fucking moment. There were guns, guns in the vicinity of his baby girl today. And he knows that when he wakes up at two in the morning shaking with remembered fear, he won't be able to walk down the hall and open her bedroom door. He won't be able to kiss her forehead, hold her close, park himself outside her door claiming that it's her nightmares he's losing sleep to keep at bay. He won't be able to physically convince himself that his precious baby girl is still out there in the world breathing and happy and alive.
And if that were it, if that was the only emotional backlash of this shitty fucking day, then he might be able to go home, have a beer, maybe even call his mom and let the gossip of home and his insanely huge clan of a family wash over and around him until he can manage to feel warm and human again. But its not, not by a long fucking shot. He knows this, knows himself well enough that going back to his empty shit-hole apartment, where the silence echoes and bounces like some fucked up emotional echolocation showing him the exact parameters of the family shaped hole in his chest, is a spectacularly bad idea.
Danny just starts driving and the next time his brain gives him a choice, he is standing in Steve's office in their dark and empty HQ, staring longingly at the mini-fridge that he knows Steve keeps stocked with beer for when the governor visits. And he could go buy his own beer, drive somewhere, anywhere, but fuck it, he needs this. He needs to be somewhere where he's safe and anyone who might find him knows him, knows him like obviously Stan and Rachel don't, because fuck. How could they not know? How could they not realize?
Thanks, again, she'd said. Like it was a favor. Like she was surprised that Danny would do anything and everything to keep his family safe, even if that family now included Stan. And it makes him so fucking angry and he's not ashamed to say, more than a little bit hurt that they didn't realize what he was, who he was. He thought they knew, he thought they all knew. How could they not know? He'd moved, he'd followed them half way around the damn planet, for God's sake. How could they not know?
And Danny has no idea how long he'd been standing there shaking when he hears Steve's concerned, hesitant voice behind him, calling his name. Danny blindly reaches a hand out and then Steve right there and Danny doesn't hesitate, burrowing his face into Steve's chest. Surrounded by the comfort, warmth, and utter safety of Steve's fucking giant presence, Danny finally lets himself break. He's not ashamed of the tears. He's not ashamed of bunching Steve's cotton shirt in his hands and holding on like a lifeline. His daughter, his baby girl had a gun pointed at her, safety off, with intent. And he just, Danny can't deal with that with any semblance of control. He just can't.
Once he catches his breath, at least some of that raging emotion spent, he notices that Steve is still petting him, whispering words of comfort even though he doesn't know the half of it. Danny takes a step back so he's no longer quite so plastered against Steve, but keeps his forehead bowed, pressed against Steve's collarbone. His no longer clenched hands slide underneath the edge of Steve's shirt and land on the smooth skin there. At the feel of Steve's warm skin under his hands, and the knowledge that Steve seems content to just stand here and hold him no matter how shitty of a day Steve himself might have had, floods that hole in his chest with warmth and maybe, something a little more solid.
As his thumbs start to brush irregular patterns onto Steve's skin, Danny finally looks up. And feels a little bit like an idiot. How could he have forgotten, how could Stan be holed up in his mansion with Danny's whole world when Steve's right here, looking at him like he'd take down a small country and present it to Danny on a silver platter, if only he'd say the word, if only it would make him smile. And Danny can't help but offer a shaky smile at that.
"What happened, your voicemail only said not to worry, because everyone was alive? No murdering Stan, then?" Steve asks, knowing full well that Danny's usual response to a bad day isn't crying into his collarbone.
"Didn't even hit him," Danny softly asserts, reattaching his face to Steve's clean shirt.
"And how was your day, dear?" Danny asks fondly, if still more scratchy than his usual bluster. "I can already tell it was eventful and from the looks of it, you got even dirtier than usual."
"But, but...," Steve flusters, "I showered," he ends with a pout.
"Exactly, princess," Danny explains. "Your shirt is clean and your hair is wet. You only shower at the office when you're too gross for your OCD to allow you to get into your truck and drive home, where normal people go after a hard day."
Steve just grins through Danny's assessment, until Danny gets to the hard day part and his face, as well as his voice, goes soft again. "Well, I'm clean enough, now. How about I take you home, we'll order in, and then, well…" Steve trails off.
Usually this turn of phrase would be accompanied with a leer, a lust filled once-over indicative of sexy times to come, but not today. Today Steve's face just indicates that he'll, they'll do whatever will make Danny better. That whatever happened to make Steve gross enough not to contaminate his truck will be put by the wayside in lieu of making Danny whole again. And Danny suddenly realizes that this, this is what he needed because just like Danny would do anything, everything, anything at all to keep his family safe and happy and unharmed, so would Steve. They're the same. Steve gets it, gets him. He doesn't have to explain it, because Steve already knows. He knows.
And Danny is just so goddamned grateful to have him, that he has this, them. He can't not lean up, pull Steve down and kiss him, fierce and thankful and gentling.
"Yeah, let's go home, babe," Danny whispers against Steve's lips. And the smile the rises on Steve's face like a sunrise makes Danny realize that yeah, Grace might be on the other side of the island and he'll never not want her to be closer, but Steve is right here and Steve, this feeling, them, this is home.