Thanks a lot to my readers, who inspired me to take a deeper dive into this night with our favorite couple with your inspiring, encouraging comments! Also, thank you for having my back so I can have yours. It means a lot to me and my muse to be so welcomed.
It was a humid night. The full moon was high in the sky. The sea was troubled, like Steve, who was still dealing with the aftermath of his nightmare. He was sitting on the veranda landing wearing nothing but a pair of jeans cut off at the knees. He was staring out at the sea when Danny, now wearing a pair of boxers, joined him with two longboards in his hand and sat down next to him. Wordlessly he pressed a bottle into Steve's hand. They toasted each other and then took a long draught of their beers at the same time.
"I thought you would come back to bed after your bathroom visit," said Danny.
Steve didn't answer him. Instead, he took another sip from the bottle and kept staring out to the sea.
Danny made another attempt, "If you want, we can talk about your nightmare or whatever it was. I'm all ears. Judging by your desperate voice, it must have been horrifying."
Was Danny mistaken, or did Steve have tears in his eyes? When his friend's chin started to quiver, he knew. Steve quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Danny's voice lost all humor and became tender, "Hey babe, talk to me."
Gently, he put his arm around Steve's shoulders and pulled him close. Tall, dark, and gloomy gave in and leaned against his partner. It was so damn good to feel Danny's body, warm and alive. He thought back to the hospital scenario in his dream with shivers. Danny's hand had been cold and lifeless there.
"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve's words were barely audible. "I'm sorry. Back at the hospital, when I was sitting by your side... I thought I was gonna lose you. I would have given anything to switch places with you."
Danny took a sip from the bottle. A smile lit up his face. "There's no way I would ever let you spoil the fun," he quipped. "A few more scars would do me good. It makes me feel badass."
Steve sat up and looked at Danny, "You know you're crazy, don't you? How can you still joke about all this? You almost died. I held you in my arms while the blood seeped out of you and with it your life. I… I could feel it."
Danny gave him a skeptical side-eye with knitted brows, "Aren't you being overly dramatic, Steven?"
He couldn't tell what it was, but something concerning Steve rubbed Danny the wrong way. His man was definitely way out of his comfort zone. Danny was uncertain if he should keep drilling or let it be.
'Best would be to empty the bottle with one long gulp and then head into the kitchen to maintain the supply,' Danny thought.
It was like Steve read his mind when he said, "I'm sorry, I'm not myself tonight. Not after this nightmare. It recalled all the unpleasant memories I've kept buried deep down inside of me. Everything's swept to the surface. Every gory detail." Steve's voice broke. He teared up.
Hastily, he tried to take another sip from the bottle that was already drained.
"I think the two of us could use some more. I'll go." Danny reached for the empty Longboard in Steve's hand.
On his way into the kitchen, Danny hummed a melody off-key, not even sure if it was part of an actual song. He did it on purpose because he wanted Steve to realize, there was enough room for whatever gloomy thoughts were hunting him. And that he didn't need to talk about it here and now.
And Steve? He was thankful for it. He loved how they communicated without words. Often looks were enough or just the presence or, in this case, the other one's absence. Their bond had grown so strong over the past few months. Only, that was another thing that made Steve worry.
He'd lost so many people who were dear to him that it would shred his heart into pieces if he lost Danny. After he woke from his horrifying dream, Steve's heart had been in his throat, and he had escaped a panic attack by the skin of his teeth. He didn't even care to think about it. To put it in a nutshell, Steve McGarrett was a mess.
And with all these unfortunate memories resurfacing, the mess grew bigger and bigger. His fear of losing Danny grew bigger.
As if on cue, the blond with his tousled hair and a huge yawn appeared next to Steve and sat down before he put one of the two chilled bottles of beer in his hand.
"Danny, you need some sleep," Steve said after taking the beer from his friend, thankfully, "I'm okay."
"No, you're not," Danny countered. "You're a lousy actor and an even worse liar. It's written all over your face that something is eating away at you like cancer. Wanna spit it out, or would you rather choke on it?"
This snarky remark drew at least a grunt from his partner and, after a while, made him talk.
'Mission accomplished,' Danny thought, a bit proud of himself. Convincing Steve to talk often felt like pulling teeth.
The dark-haired man cleared his throat before he rose to speak. His voice was still a bit "rusty" from emotion, especially as Steve kept it low. Almost like he feared someone could overhear them.
But it was his uncertainty that had him talking that way.
"Remember the day when we got buried under tons of debris in that fucking garage?" Steve asked.
"How could I forget that, with that nasty scar on my side you like to examine all the time like you just discovered a rare antique pattern," Danny quipped, trying to hold the conversation at a lighter level because he knew it would go dark anyway at a certain point.
Again, it worked because Steve's voice grew a bit louder when he replied, "You have to admit, it doesn't look like an average scar."
"Only because the doctor was sloppy or had a bad day when he stitched me up." For a brief moment, time stood still, and Danny and Steve smiled at each other.
The moment withered away when another wave of not-so-good memories overcame Steve.
"Anyway," Steve went on. "You remember the different stages of feelings you were going through. Especially because your claustrophobia always accompanied you."
"That's an interesting take on events," Danny interrupted him. "I haven't any clue where this is going, but keep on with it."
Again, Steve cleared his throat before he kept on talking, "I seem to lose control of my… my thoughts. You know? I have flashbacks a lot. And this nightmare I just had… It felt like the dam finally broke."
"You mean this one was the closest you ever came to a panic attack?"
Steve's head jerked in his friend's direction, "How could you know that? I mean, I never mentioned…"
Danny put the bottle on the stairs, so his hands were free to emphasize his words. "I would be the shittiest detective on the planet if I hadn't picked up on it."
"But, but you never said a word, not once," Steve was baffled.
"You mean, I could have pulled a stupid joke about it rather than ignore it? Well, Babe, I'm not into compounding your already crappy mental state," Danny explained. "I've seen you struggling, yes. However, it was not on me to call you out on it. From my point of view, panic attacks are not controllable. Which is something a control freak like you will hate, and adjusting to it can be tricky."
Steve didn't miss the little smile on Danny's lips, and he loved him for being not dead serious about this, which kept their conversation on a more comfortable level even though the topic scared the shit out of the ex-Navy-SEAL.
When Danny looked at him expectantly and stopped talking, Steve nodded slowly, "Yeah, I thought that this whole control freak thing would become a major issue one day…"
Both listened to the incoming waves crashing on the shore. The minutes ticked by, and Steve started feeling uncomfortable. After a stretch, he asked, "So, are you going to show me some breathing exercises or other tactics to overcome a panic attack?"
Danny used his index finger to point at himself, "Who me? God no. All I can do is pray that you and I aren't having one at the same time. That would be pretty embarrassing for everyone involved."
Steve cracked up and spat the gulp of beer he had in his mouth across the lawn.
"Table manners, babe, table manners," Danny reminded him, fighting against the laughing fit that would hit him at any moment.
'Okay,' Danny thought, 'Mission accomplished, crisis averted.'
Only Steve wasn't done yet. After both of them regained their composure, which seemed to be a hopeless task at first, Steve was back to brooding.
"Come on, Babe. Don't do that to me," Danny complained.
"Don't do what?"
"Gimme that aneurysm face of yours. I thought we were done with it, Steven."
Steve lowered his gaze.
When he started to talk, Danny had to inch closer because Steve's voice was barely audible. Never a good sign. When their thighs brushed, Danny felt a warm tingling racing down his spine into his groin. A feeling he wanted to devour, only the words that came out of Steve's mouth felt as if someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over his head.
"When I found you there, lying in your blood, my heart was in my throat, my stomach on the ground. I thought I would go insane. And the weeks you were in limbo, and the doctors couldn't tell me if you were gonna make it or not… I can't lose you too, Danno. I can't. Not after all I… we've been through."
Steve drew in a shaky breath. Danny curled a hand around Steve's neck and leaned his forehead against his friend's temple, inhaling the smell that had become his favorite in the world.
"I won't lie. This has, of course, the potential to blow your life apart," Danny said, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. "But Steve, do me a favor and stop listening to those monsters in your head. Don't let them win."
Then Danny pressed his lips to Steve's temple, his warm breath bathing Steve's skin and soul.
"I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. We have this special bond between us, and I feel it as much as you do. Believe me, when I say, I am also scared to lose all this one day."
Danny withdrew his hand from Steve's neck and leaned back. Steve's eyes swung Danny's way. Memories his body and his heart wanted to relive washed over him. These emotions were so different from the ones he'd experienced after he woke from his nightmare. Steve wondered if they were strong enough to keep his anxiety at bay. Every fiber in his body was yearning for Danny. They shared a bed but hadn't slept with each other since Danny's return from the hospital. Steve had been too scared he could hurt him. And then there was the guilt that was weighing him down, as well.
Danny hated the forlorn look on Steve's face. He caressed the lines away with his fingertips, and Steve's eyes fluttered close under the gentle touch. He nuzzled Danny's palm.
"Babe," Danny whispered hoarsely. It took everything Steve had not to lean forward and kiss this painful sound away. Instead, he took Danny's smaller hand and kissed his knuckles. In unison, they lifted their heads. Their gazes met, and Steve bared the burning hunger and the blinding fear that held him back as it almost paralyzed him.
"Talk to me, Steven. Tell me we're in this together. We've come that far. Don't let things slip away because of a damn nightmare," Danny pleaded.
Steve was torn. He'd reached his emotional limit. On the one hand, he didn't want to give up what they had. On the other, he wasn't sure what he wanted at all. So, Steve settled for silence and allowed himself the indulgence of kissing Danny's palm. One last intimacy before he got up and went back into the house before he drowned.
Danny's first impulse was to jump to his feet and follow Steve. But he fought it, took the beer bottles, went around the house and put them in the trash can. Carefully, not wanting to wake the neighbors. The cat that jumped out of its hiding place at the same time almost gave him a heart attack.
"Fucking cat," Danny hissed, "I know why I love dogs."
Suddenly he was aware that he missed Eddie. Junior had taken the dog with him to his training camp. They wouldn't return for the next few weeks or even a month.
Steve lay in bed, his hands clasped behind his head, and stared a hole into the darkness. He wanted to kick himself in the butt for being so selfish and leaving Danny alone at the landing only because he couldn't get a grip on his emotions on this more than wild roller coaster ride.
Admittedly his friend had read him like an open book. Yes, he had lost control. This last case had thrown him off track. And the harder he tried to regain control of his life, the worse things got. Maybe he and Danny should go on a vacation for a few weeks. Even thinking about it was absurd as he couldn't remember when they'd been abroad together the last time that had not been job-related.
"Are you done with your orgy of self-destruction, or should I go for a few more laps around the island on my bike?"
Danny's soft voice jolted Steve back into reality.
"Don't look at me like I stole your G.I. Joe lunchbox," Danny quipped.
Steve propped himself on his elbows and couldn't help but grin.
"My G.I. Joe lunchbox, huh. What makes you think I had one?"
Danny shrugged and suggested, "My Cop instincts? Oh, do you have any idea where I left my handcuffs?"
Steve frowned, "No. But talking about a G.I. Joe lunchbox and bringing up your handcuffs is a stretch. Any plans for tonight I should be aware of?"
Danny acted shocked, "Me, never. Charlie needs them for school. They have a project that's called: bring along something authentic from your parent's job. First, he asked me for my gun…"
Steve's body jerked, then shook, before he broke into laughter. "Nice try, partner," he gasped in between. "You almost got me."
Danny rolled his eyes and muttered, "Fuck me," as he fell onto the bed next to Steve. And Steve fell with him, in more ways than one.
The End