AN: Here come the kids! :D (writing Charlie and Grace are too much fun - someone stop me.)
Also, I'm just so stupidly sentimental over anytime it's referenced that Steve plays guitar. That one time he sang in his office on the show, I almost cried. It makes my heart Soft and thus I had to put it in.
'Of all the things we will remember
The good, the bad, and all the blessings in disguise
Today will stick with me forever
Even if we have to say goodbye.'
"Where Does the Time Go" ~ A Great Big World
~OL~
"Danno! There he is, Grace! Danno!"
The tinsel sound of a child's voice cuts over the mumbled adult chatter and foot traffic. Danny perks up at once. He straightens from a slouch against the empty luggage carousel and watches his son fly down the terminal.
It's more like gawky sprinting, but Danny's never seen him run so fast.
"Charlie, hey! Whoa!"
Danny bends just in time for a comet of ecstatic, freshly minted nine-year-old boy to hurtle into his arms. He scoops him up, peppering kisses to dimpled cheeks.
"How's my favourite son, huh? How was the flight from Seattle?"
Charlie giggles while pretending to hate the kisses but peppering in a few of his own to Danny's nose. "I'm your only son."
"All the more reason to keep you close." Danny's chest swells where he holds Charlie against it. "Were you good for your sister during the flight over?"
"The best," Charlie reassures him. "We watched a movie."
Grace, following at a more sedate pace and wheeling a carry-on, shakes her head. "He means he fell asleep while I watched a movie."
Danny tugs his daughter under his free arm. Charlie gets in on the love with a gentle hand scrunched in her hair. "I bet that was a nice break, monkey."
Grace giggles too. "The best."
She's nearly the same height as her father now, but she'll always be the right size to hold. The very colours of the world look more vibrant when she's in it. Danny kisses her too, her forehead and then her cheek and then the tippy top crown of her head.
It's something he used to do when she was born, a sort of ingrained need to meld his love into her mind, her skin, her heart. This is probably thanks to his mother, who used to pretend she could 'tattoo' him with a kiss, but Danny still does it without even thinking and Grace beams, every time.
"How was your visit with Mom?" he asks.
Grace pecks his cheek in return. "Good. I missed being in the same state as you, though."
Perhaps it's selfish, but Danny's heart swells a little more when she says it. He takes her bag to give her a break from wheeling it. Other families mill around them, greeting loved ones for the holidays in a similar display.
The Williams family reunited at last. Danny wonders if the sheer joy of this shows on his face, if he's oozing so that it blinds other people. He doesn't know how he'll cope when Charlie goes back after New Year's. The very thought ups his blood pressure.
Danny makes sure to hide any crusty sorrow over Steve's diagnosis he's constantly feeling, but it's not so hard with the warmth of both kids against him, for Danny feels he could float away if asked.
Charlie's hand is in Danny's hair now to steady himself as he cranes his neck and peers around the arrival terminal. "Where's Uncle Steve?"
"Steve is at home, preparing some big surprise for us," says Danny in a droll tone. "Probably just ice cream sundaes or fixing those pesky lights, honestly. They all shorted out at once somehow."
Grace throws her father a knowing look. "Still living off candles?"
"Unfortunately. Get used to toting a flashlight at night."
Charlie gasps. "Like a sleepover!"
With his lingering lisp, it sounds more like 'sleepower' and Danny bounces him against his hip. "Exactly like a sleepover. You two can flip a coin for who gets which bedroom upstairs. Sound good?"
"Yeah!" Charlie swings his legs. "Gonna be the best Christmas ever, Danno!"
Danny swallows. "Sure is, buddy."
As it turns out, ice cream sundaes are not the big surprise. In fact, when they make it home and Danny opens the door, Steve is nowhere to be found. The house is completely empty.
"Danno! Where'd you find such a big tree?" Grace can't stop gaping at it. She drops her bag on the couch, brows high.
"'S really tall," Charlie agrees. "Big enough for Santa to put Grace's present under."
Danny smiles. "I have my ways and certainly haven't lost my detective touch, even if it means hunting down artificial trees now instead of criminals."
"How'd you even get it in here?" Grace asks.
"If anyone asks," Danny raises a warning finger, "I did all of the work setting this up. Steve put the star on top. That's it."
"Uh-huh. Sure, Danno."
Suddenly, Danny smells something charring. He traces the smell out to their wooden patio that leads down to the beach. Smoke curls into the wind, just visible around a shrub that sits between the window and grill.
A barbecue. Danny shakes his head while setting Charlie down so he can zoom around and explore the house. Grace holds his hand the whole way, less curious since she's been here many times before. That's your big move, Steve?
They've been using the old propane grill more, especially with the power flickering so much. Maybe Steve figures barbecued food will be a novelty for Charlie, who rarely gets greasy fare.
It's sweet, either way.
But offering meat to a nine-year-old is such a Steve McGarrett thing to do that Danny can't help but tease. He wants to milk this one.
"Gotta say, babe." Danny slides open the patio door. "You're off your game. This isn't exactly what I thought you'd—"
The black curls catch his eye first. They flare in the afternoon breeze, along with a loose Hawaiian shirt on which are printed bright red sailboats. The curls, longer than normal, tumble over eyes creased with deepened laugh lines.
Then the sun flashes off a gleam of white teeth, a growing smile.
It's the smile that unravels Danny.
"Chin?" He breathes it just in case he's hallucinating. "Chin!"
Three whole years have passed since they've seen each other in a way that's not video calls and recorded messages, but it doesn't hinder Danny a lick. Absolutely nothing has changed about Chin, not the parts that matter.
Danny runs to him like a parched man in the desert runs to a well. He probably looks about as graceful as his son and he doesn't even care. Chin must be on the same wavelength because even before Danny says his name, he quite literally drops the burger tongs he's manning the grill with so he can open his arms.
Falling into them allows Danny space to breathe for the first time in days and it's the safest he's felt since the phone call from Steve's doctor. Danny doesn't realize how on edge he's been holding himself until this moment. He melts into the embrace.
Somewhere in the background Steve laughs, but it sounds teary too. He sits in the hammock and watches with a loopy grin that makes Danny want to cry.
And Chin's not a hallucination—his arms are real and tight and just as shaky as Danny's. He makes an incoherent, wounded animal noise against Chin's shoulder and Chin pats down his shoulders and torso, like he has to make sure for himself that Danny is in one piece.
Chin is here. He's hugging Danny and smiling that megawatt smile, laughing along with Steve.
"Uncle Chin!"
Grace sees their special surprise next. She leaps across the patio threshold in one bound. Danny steps back to allow her room for a patented Chin Ho Kelly hug, still a little delirious with amazement.
"You…how…?"
Steve answers this question that's barely a question. "Happy early Christmas, Danno. He's the first present in my gift to you."
"Oh it's a two-parter, is it?"
"Yup."
Chin hugs Charlie next, when he appears at his sister's heels.
In stepping back, Danny sees Abigail standing there, now having taken over the grill for her husband. Danny hugs her too, just because he's in a sentimental mood. She's even more real, smelling of coconut and salty air.
"Don't worry." Steve gets up from the hammock to hug Charlie, the boy already in full chatterbox swing. But Steve's eyes are all for Danny. "That was pretty much my reaction too and I knew about it beforehand."
Chin wipes his wet cheeks. "You said take a rain check on that barbecue last month. When Steve called, I figured there'd be no better time."
"I'm glad you did." Danny hugs him again, a quick one that puts his thoughts back in order. "How's Sara?"
"See for yourself."
When Chin lights up in that way of loving parents everywhere, Danny follows his gaze down to their beach. An impressive sandcastle has reached the point in construction where it's taller than the tiny girl building it. Long brown hair sails free in the wind, tucked under a yellow bucket hat. Waves lap at her swim shorts and rash guard.
Danny raises a brow. "Man, she's getting big."
"Tell me about it." Chin hums a warm sound. "She eats like a horse and we have to buy her new shoes every few months at this rate."
Though Sara is a few years older than Charlie and they only met briefly back in Hawaii, he hones in on a fellow playmate at once.
Charlie tugs on Danny's pant leg. "Can I go in the water too, Danno? Do I have to change into swim trunks first?"
Danny's feeling magnanimous. He looks to Steve, both of them grinning in that way that's not true humour but rather an upwell of too much emotion. Messy emotion. Euphoric emotion.
Danny huffs, helpless with love for them all. "Have at 'er, buddy. Go get messy."
"Yes!"
Charlie's off down the beach in record time. Sara, also raised as the only child in a house of adults, takes to Charlie without a hitch. Unlike him, she seems to remember their few interactions.
The rest of the day goes down as one of the happiest in Danny's life.
There's an absurd amount of food, until they're stuffed and lounging on the beach chairs with sleepy eyes, conversations that last for hours, and always a point of contact somewhere between their bodies. Be it Danny leaning on Steve's ribs or Grace dozing off on his shoulder or Chin patting his hand—it fills up his hungry soul just as much as the burgers.
The day is an island of comfort amidst Steve and Danny's private storm.
They talk of their lives, the parts that are easy to share, and Danny is thrilled to witness how content Chin and Abby are. He's never seen his friend so happy.
Not just happy, Danny thinks…grounded. Chin is a zen man, but now he seems almost invulnerable to circumstances, love woven into the fibre of his being to the point it can't be torn. They're a young family, with time to watch each other grow.
Only when a rousing game of soccer starts does Danny find a chance to sit next to Steve in the sand for longer than a minute.
Their shoulders and sides touch, Steve's hand unlatching from a beer bottle to find Danny's knee. Five easy minutes pass in silence.
Danny looks at his son, who trips and kicks his way to the ball—intercepted by Abby—then up at Steve. His eyes are tender on the scene. Setting rays refract off flecks of green in the hazel.
"Thank you," says Danny, his tone grainy and warm. "For…well, for organizing all of this. I needed to be around family, to see my kids enjoy themselves."
Steve doesn't take his eyes away from the horizon. "For you? Anything."
Danny sucks in a sharp breath. This isn't said in jest or one drop of irony, nor with a hint of hesitation. Steve says it like it's a truth he would die for. The sky is blue, the sun rises every morning—and Steve would tear the heart out of his chest if Danny should ever have need of it.
Shock reigns over Danny.
Steve means it.
Steve means it.
They have always been loyal to each other but this is leagues past duty's archipelago to a wild unknown at the edge of the world inside Danny's heart. It is a kind of unflinching honour that few see in real time.
Then don't go. Don't leave me. The words crash into Danny's thoughts with greater desperation than a child's prayer. The one thing he wants is the one thing Steve can't give him.
He doesn't voice this out loud but he doesn't need to. Danny and Steve can hear each other even when silent, even separated by whole continents.
Steve's thumb curls across Danny's knee. The clutched contact allows him to feel Steve's heart skip one very long, very squirrely beat.
He still won't look Danny in the eye.
~OL~
How Chin magically procured a bundle of wood when he hasn't even left the house is a mystery. None of them complain, however, when he also pulls out a bag of s'mores fixings. Because of course Chin, prepared for absolutely anything man that he is, would have thought to stop and buy bonfire fixings on the drive from San Francisco.
It's ridiculous, honestly.
Not that Danny's complaining. He eats two s'mores even though he feels like another bite might kill him.
"We do this all the time at the beach," Sara tells Danny, before promptly climbing into his lap.
A little startled, Danny rolls with the development in stride, securing his arm around her so she doesn't fall off. The other is already around Charlie, a warm bundle on a warm night, and having a child on each knee does somersaults with his stomach. His arms match his heart, full to overflowing.
Steve steals a ream of photos with his phone, the bastard.
It's a dicey balancing act with the guitar also resting across his thighs. So far, he hasn't done much more than pick at it and play chords so the kids can sing silly songs.
"Chin makes good marshmallows, doesn't he?" Danny asks, bobbing his right knee where Sara sits.
She nods and stuffs a whole one in her mouth, right off the stick. "Dad's marshmallows are the best."
Danny startles again, and this time so does Steve, both looking at Chin's proud face with wide eyes. A touch smug too, like he just pulled a particularly good prank. A wordless conversation passes between them and Abby.
Chin nods at them, then his niece. No…his daughter.
"I wouldn't know." He reaches across Danny to tweak Sara's nose. "Because someone always eats them all before I can have one."
Sara laughs, the sound of which somehow makes Charlie even sleepier. He nods off into Danny's chest.
Danny is amazed the kids are still awake at all. It's past midnight, the beach dark, fire simmering down to embers, with too much chocolate and marshmallows in their stomachs. Even he's feeling fatigued. Retired and lazy as they are, he and Steve haven't had this much activity in months.
"Sara's a night owl," says Abby, answering another unspoken question. "We're trying to fix that."
Steve apparently decides he has enough embarrassing fodder on Danny for later and tucks his phone away. Hands thus freed, he resumes picking at broken chords, first on the lower guitar frets, then up higher like a mandolin. It seeps between the cracks of conversations and laughter, golden veins in a vase. Steve really is quite an accomplished string player when he sets his mind to it.
Some veiled inner room of Danny's spirit always lights up to see Steve use gifts he's given, no matter how big or small. Steve plays the guitar often, but rarely in front of other people. In fact, he usually stops when caught by someone other than Danny or his sister.
Steve's not doing any particularly fancy finger work, still able to carry on a conversation with Chin while he plays. He seems to enjoy watching everyone more than joining in.
For once, someone else says it—
"Steve, won't you sing something?"
Danny would do a victory lap if he didn't have two heavy-eyed children on his lap. So it's not just him who's notices this. Steve's refusal to sing would be easier to digest if it spoke of self consciousness or embarrassment.
Danny knows there's more to it than that.
Voices around the fire fade away, to better hear Steve's answer.
Steve smiles indulgently at Grace. "I sang a few minutes ago."
"No you didn't! The kids did, and that doesn't count," she argues, though Steve's smile is contagious and she mirrors it. "Those were camp songs."
"What's wrong with camp songs?"
Grace rolls her eyes. "I mean a nice song. A ballad or lullaby."
"I'm telling Charlie you don't think his favourite songs are nice."
Danny snorts. "She'll tell him that to his face, free of charge."
"How 'bout this." Steve's thumb cascades down all six strings, a carillon-like harmony against the waves and fire's crackle. "I'll play so you can sing something."
Grace cants her head. "Why won't you, Uncle Steve?"
Despite the light words, it doesn't escape Danny that Steve's hand clamps around the neck of the guitar…and the music stops. Steve never loses his smile.
His fingers are tight, though, lending his knuckles a pearl-like quality.
Steve's mouth opens a few times and, for some esoteric reason Danny can't even hope to decipher, Steve looks directly at him. This is the first time he's made direct eye contact with Danny since their earlier conversation and it winds him a bit.
Orange firelight licks at shadows on Steve's face, his shiny eyes. Hollowed out patches of collarbone where his V-neck slips down.
Sometimes when he looks at Danny like this, Danny thinks Steve might be trying to memorize his face. Carve it into his brain so there's no possibility he'll forget the details.
This makes no sense—Steve is the one who might be leaving.
But he gazes at Danny as if he's the last breath of fresh oxygen before the plunge.
And for once…Danny doesn't know what it means. What does Steve want in all this? He's asked and asked, but all Steve ever says is his favourite word, that he's 'fine,' it's 'okay,' as if whatever's easiest is somehow best.
Danny wants to shake him.
"That's alright, Gracie," says Chin. He eyes Steve with a furrowed brow. Danny's seen that look a million times, especially out on a case. "We're almost done for the night anyway."
With the words, a spell is broken and Steve's eyes break away.
Being gutted would have less of an impact on Danny than this does. He grits his teeth and then slowly releases them, not wanting Charlie or Sara to feel his anxiety.
Abby retrieves Sara, freeing Danny so he can lift Charlie into his arms. They wander inside after dousing the fire. Stray towels are gathered up along with plastic sand shovels, leftovers packaged for the road, shoes slipped on in their candle-lit kitchen.
The farewell hugs feel like seaweed, swaying and soft, exchanged around hushed goodbyes. A sleepy umbrella of friendship hangs over them all.
"Do you guys have a place to stay?" Danny asks. "Don't tell me you're making the five hour drive back tonight."
Abby shakes her head. "No, I've got family in LA. We'll stay with them and drive home tomorrow, since we figured you guys were booked full."
"No room in the inn," Grace jokes, while she throws a sloppy wink at a fond Danny.
"You're welcome here any time." Steve goes in for another hug from Chin. His closes his eyes into the embrace, as if to memorize the details of this too.
When he steps back, Sara hugs Danny's legs, then Steve's, and that gets a real grin out of the two men.
"Tell buh-bye to Charlie for me," she says in her songbird voice.
Danny smooths back her windblown hair with his free hand. "Will do. How about a sand castle competition next time?"
"I'd love that!"
Danny nods at Chin, throat thick. "Thank you for today. We've missed you."
Chin's mouth twists to one side, then the other. "I can help you put Charlie down."
That's…certainly not the response Danny expected.
The odd offer gives him pause. He glances at Steve, now helping Abby and Grace load Tupperware containers of potato salad and burgers into their bags, and then back to his old friend.
"That'd be great, Chin, thanks."
They climb up to Charlie's chosen room, the one across the hall from Steve, and Danny doesn't bother waking his son to brush his teeth—a shocking concession. Chin helps wriggle socks onto Charlie's feet while Danny trades his shirt and shorts for pajamas.
Charlie's eyes aren't even open when he sighs a carefree sound. "Love you, Uncle Chin."
"Love you too, keiki." Chin ruffles the boy's hair with a broad smile. "Merry Christmas."
Charlie's hand pats around for his father. Danny shifts his arm closer so Charlie can latch onto it with elfin fingers. "I hope we get to do this again next year, Dad."
Danny gasps under his breath. Some metaphor about straws and camels fits nicely in this moment, though all Danny can think through his screeched-to-a-halt thoughts is that he and Charlie are wishing for the exact same thing.
Danny hangs his head, forced to swallow twice before he can speak. He kisses his son's forehead. "Me too, bud…me too."
There's that knowing look again. Chin frowns.
"Goodnight, Charlie."
"G'night, Dad."
Chin manages to contain himself until they're out in the hall, Charlie's door safely shut. His hands hover in an out-of-character shape, like he also wants to shake Danny and is forcing his hands to stay at this six-inch median. It looks like it takes supreme effort.
Danny steels himself for the lecture.
But Chin doesn't yell or demand anything or give him a stern reprimand.
A dulcet murmur comes out, the dead last thing Danny expects in this moment. It shoots his head up. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm here if you need anything. And I mean anything, Danny. Please."
Danny's fists slacken. He stares at Chin in the dim glow and wonders if all their jokes about Chin being psychic are true after all. The tenderness of this offer rocks him for a moment, almost physically back on his heels.
Chin sees all this and more on Danny's face. He can't seem to help himself and places a hand on Danny's shoulder and down a bit, so the heel rests over Danny's heart.
His palm is warm but light, unlike Steve's weighty touch.
It might as well be a truth serum for how it propels the words into Danny's mouth: "I'm not doing enough for him, Chin. I'm useless."
Chin's eyes cloud. "Danny…you spent almost the entire night fretting about Steve. The kids couldn't see it, based on how well you hide that kind of worry, but I know you. You're doing so much it's killing you."
The turn of phrase chokes a pained noise out of Danny. Chin reacts to it on instinct, tugging Danny into his arms without another word. Danny doesn't cry, but his hands aren't steady around Chin's back.
"You're not useless, Danny."
"Nothing I'm doing is making a difference."
"How do you know?"
That stumps Danny. He rallies at the memory of Steve's wary face on the beach. "Steve needs support and I'm not…I don't think I'm doing a very good job. He's trying to comfort me with all this when he's the one who…"
Chin isn't quite as tall as Steve, so his jaw ends up propped on Danny's shoulder without having to bend. For a slow motion minute, all Danny feels is a vein flutter in that jaw and their pulses thumping against each other's shoulders.
"Maybe comforting you does help him."
"Chin…"
"Danny, the best thing you can do is let him in."
"He doesn't need extra baggage, someone else's emotions."
"Yes, he does. Steve feels like a failure if you don't tell him how this is affecting you too. He'll think you don't trust him."
Danny goes quiet.
Chin pulls back to catch Danny's eye. It takes a few tries, soul weary and uneasy as Danny is right now. Brown finds blue.
"Don't shut him out," Chin whispers. "Don't lie about how you're feeling."
Breath catches in Danny's lungs, snagged by the ugly truth of it all. Danny could talk until the sun comes up, but he still can't bring himself to tell Steve what's going inside his head. Perhaps it's time he did.
Then again, neither can Steve. He won't tell Danny how he's actually feeling either.
Danny clasps Chin's elbow, who nods at the silent words.
"You don't have to share with me." A fierce, protective light flashes in Chin's eyes. "But if you get over your head in whatever you're both dealing with right now, try to do it all by yourself, so help me—I'll be here before you see it coming. Do you understand?"
It's a benevolent threat, a stark reminder that underneath the level headed man lies a warrior ready to strike at a moment's notice, who has killed people—multiple times—for his family. Who would do it again without hesitation.
Danny realizes Chin is actually waiting for an answer. "Yes. I just…I don't know what to do."
"Neither does he. That's where you meet in the middle and walk through it together. Not separately as two people who just happen to live in the same house."
More harsh truths. But this one also poses a door, a way out. Danny straightens in sudden understanding.
"You're very wise, Chin Ho Kelly. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Chin squeezes the back of Danny's neck. "The older I get, the less sure I am that's a compliment. Most wisdom comes at the cost of experience. Painful experience. Don't make the same mistakes I did shutting out those close to me."