Title: Ties, Aneurysm Faces And, God Forbid, Feelings

Author: thewhiterose3

Pairing: Danny/Steve, slash

Disclaimer: Not mine. I only wish they were.

Rating: T, for language. Rating may go up in the future, depending on how daring I am.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and followed my story. This chapter is a little heavy on the description side. I promise the next one will have more dialogue. A thank you also goes out to my lovely sister who has beta'd this for me. Any mistakes, though, are strictly my own.

For the first and probably only time in his life, Steve is thankful for long-winded politicians and bureaucratic meetings that go on forever. According to Governor Jameson, the budget committee finds it harder to question her seemingly never-ending allocation of resources to Steve's team when Steve is glaring at them in a semi-threatening manner. Danny's there to keep Steve company. And to sometimes find a diplomatic way to explain their more dubious tactics. Danny's a hell of a lot better at this than Steve, though sometimes Steve lifts an "I dare you to question our results" eyebrow behind Danny to give his explanations a little more umph.

Steve's also thankful that he perfected the "I dare you to piss me off" glare years ago and no longer has to try in order to sustain it indefinitely. Danny's on his own this time though, because Steve's mind is definitely not focusing on explaining why their cars need new tires again or how four people require double the amount of ammunition than that used by the entire HPD. Instead Steve's mind is thoroughly engaged in trying to figure out what to do with his newfound knowledge.

Danno loves him. Danno loves him. Danno loves him. Its on a loop in his head and Steve has to check himself to stop from interrupting his patented glare with the smile that's fighting to break out. But just because today is one of the few documented cases of Steve McGarrett getting the warm fuzzies does not mean that Steve has a single fucking clue where to go from here. His first instinct, once the shock wore off, was trial by fire. To take Danny by the tie, that damn tie, and kiss him senseless right there in the car.

He had almost done it too, resulting in a few aborted hand gestures that Danny had raised an eyebrow at. Though he hadn't paused his monologue which ranged from Chin's rage hidden below that stoic demeanor (and how it would most likely give him a fucking aneurysm one day if he didn't let all that resentment go) to Kono's roundhouse kick of doom, destruction, and mayhem (yes, Danny had actually used the word mayhem) to Kono's propensity to go undercover and how if they kept doing that on every damn case, she'd be recognizable to the entire criminal community on the island within the next month. Fuck, Danny was a worrier.

Anyway. Steve did not kiss Danny in the car (where he all but had to sit on his hands to stop himself), or on the steps to the governor's hall (where he hurried in first so he wouldn't get the option of ogling Danny's ass), or in the doorway to their meeting room (where he settled for holding the door open just barely enough forcing Danny to brush against him to enter), or in any of the last 43 minutes and 17 seconds during which Danny gave him exactly 27 concerned glances of varied lengths and intensities. The reason Steve did not live out this fantasy that he hadn't even known he craved until about an hour ago was that this was exactly the kind of thing Danny had spent the entirety of their partnership loudly and verbosely chastising him for: running in hot and blind without a plan, without doing your homework, without backup. He's not sure if the backup one applies this time. And if Steve knows anything, it is that if he makes a move on Danny, then he wants to do it right.

Hold the phone. Wait a damn second. Make a move on Danny? Just because Danny loves him, doesn't mean Steve has any idea what he's feeling. Shit, feelings. In Steve's mind, feelings were in the same category as paperwork and traffic lights. Things that unfortunately exist and are useful in theory, but Steve had yet to find a proper function for them in his life. But Danny had always made Steve feel more than anyone else from day one.

Spending much of his adult life in the military, Steve understood hierarchies: the lieutenant deferred to the captain who deferred to the admiral. There was a system and it made sense. But all that went out the window the moment Detective Danny Williams came into his life. Steve was in charge of the team and also Commander Steve McGarrett. The detective may be his partner, but Steve was well entrenched in the hierarchical high ground. So when Danny rebuked his authority, Steve immediately went to set him straight, publicly, once and for all. And that's when Danny's right hook changed everything. His right hook followed by the fact that he didn't leave, he didn't transfer, didn't even bow to Steve's authority, he offered compromise. Accepted Steve's brand of crazy and the fact that it already got him shot, and simply asked to be let in on the plan so he knew when to duck.

And Steve couldn't help but be intrigued by the pint-sized detective. Intrigued, confused, desperate to know more. Because Danny never let up. The man was relentless. Relentless in his pursuit of justice, in his attempts to train Steve to be a real cop and follow at least a semblance of protocol once in a while if only to throw them all off. And the harder Steve pushed him, tried to find his limits before he'd just up and leave, the harder Danny kept pushing back. It was like Danny's default position was six damn inches from Steve's face colorfully informing him how much of an idiot he was and exactly how many laws he'd broken this time and exactly why his actions should have gotten him killed if only he were a normal human being and not a psycho with superhuman SEAL powers.

Steve had never had another human being more thoroughly insert themselves into his life and just fucking stay there. Even when they weren't on duty, Steve found himself by Danny's side almost every weekend, often with Grace in tow. Or more accurately, Grace was leading with he and Danny in tow. Now Steve had never been good with children. Didn't have an abundance of experience with them after being one himself. But there was something about Grace Williams that, eerily like her father, simply made herself at home in Steve's life without asking permission or forgiveness. And now he really couldn't imagine his life without either of them in it.

And that was the kicker. Right there. Danny made him feel like he could maybe have a normal life and stay in one location for more than a week. Made him want to. Made him look forward to the weekends instead of dreading what the fuck he was going to do with himself without work to distract him from the ghosts sharing his childhood home. Because somehow the stains of his father's blood on the floor didn't stand out in stark detail when Danny was not a foot away on the couch, beer in hand, giving a running commentary of whatever game was on.

Or when Grace had what looked like a squadron of Barbie dolls spread out over his floor entrapping both Steve and Danny in a world of parties and matching shoes and drama over which of the seventeen girl Barbies was dating the one boy Ken. Though in the last few weeks, there did seem to be a surprising number of girl on girl Barbie dates. Steve had raised a questioning eyebrow to Danny, only to find him emphatically shushing his daughter and making slashing motions across his neck. Those two seemed to have a language of their own sometimes, but they were letting him in, pulling him into their precious world day by day and Steve never stopped questioning how in the hell he got that privilege.

Because Danny spent 90% of his communication with Steve describing in elaborate detail how Steve was going to get them all killed, only for Danny to trust Steve around the person who was most precious to him. What the fuck had he done to deserve that? If that wasn't an example of love, Steve didn't know what the hell was.

But, shit, what if he was wrong? What if this was just how partners were? What if this was just Danny's way of being a good friend, in the overbearing, loud, and intense way he did everything else. And Steve couldn't help momentarily wondering what it would be like to have all that intensity focused on the pursuit of mutual pleasure. Would Danny kiss would the same intensity and raw emotion with which he fought? Fuck, Steve hoped so.

He couldn't just say, "hey Danno, so I figured out that you love me, but I really am the social leper you keep saying I am and I can't figure out if you're just the best damn friend and partner I've ever had or if I should drag you onto the nearest flat surface and fuck you senseless. I'm really hoping for the latter. Little help, brah?" Shitty plan. Bad fucking plan. He needed to gather more intel.

Who could he ask? Steve knows exactly three people who know both he and Danny well and are not currently in jail: Chin, Kono, and Mary. Fuck, he was not bringing his sister, his sister who he just figured out how to talk to for ten minutes without throwing blame around with, into this mess. That left Chin and Kono. Chin had been on the force for fifteen years, but he might be a little biased on what constituted a good friend and partner, after the whole my entire precinct (and family) forgets they know me as a person and instead listens to what the IA says and holds a grudge for fucking ever. But then Kono had never had a chance to have a partner at all. They'd scooped her up into their merry band of insanity before she'd even graduated the academy. She would also mock him mercilessly and loudly. Chin's mocking would most likely consist of raised eyebrows and pointed knowing glances. Chin it was, then.

Good, now he had a plan, but that still left the car ride back to HQ. Steve knew well that now that they were no longer late for something where they could not afford to get distracted by an argument that could escalate into a screaming match where they proved once again that their stubbornness quotas were scarily evenly matched, Danny would prevail with the questions. The questions that Steve was not ready to answer.

But out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees a politician reach for his briefcase and knows that he'll have to battle an in-car Danny off the cuff. Steve eyes refocus on the object of his inner debate to find concerned and questioning gaze of the afternoon number forty seven staring back. The governor closes the meeting and they file back out into a chilly Hawaiian fall afternoon, where the temperature may even drop below seventy tonight. Steve still can't fathom how Danny can hate the consistently beautiful weather that surrounds his home. But Danny's already bitching.

"How the fuck can it be November and feel like this? This is fall? I'm not even wearing a jacket. Does this god-awful place even have seasons? Have you ever seen the leaves change or, horror of all horrors, snow?"

"I did live in Annapolis, asshole."

"For what, like four years? So you've seen about a foot of snow at a time, at the most? Bet you've never had to clear a driveway. Fuck, have you ever even made a snow man? Man, you've had a deprived childhood. Never? Really? Wow. That's just wrong man, just wrong."

At this point, the conversation has gotten them back into the car and Steve has decided to let Danny drive again, if only so he'll have less brain power available to question him. But, just his luck, as soon as the doors to the Camaro shut, Danny returns to his favorite subject.

"What is wrong with you? I've seen comatose patients pay more attention than you did in that meeting. I swear you spent the entire damn time glaring at the projector screen. Did it try to kill you in a past life? Do you have a vendetta against large expanses of white? Did you have a traumatizing experience with a project screen as a child?"

"I don't have to pay attention, that's what you're here for. And you didn't exactly have your eyes glued to whoever was speaking, you looked at me 47 times in an hour and a half meeting."

"Don't flatter yourself, princess. I was trying to figure out if you were still breathing. Forty seven times, really? You were counting? Not forty eight? Not approximately anything? Holy shit, I don't want to even know what goes on in that idiot brain of yours. I really just don't want to know."

"Good."

"Good? What the hell, no really I want to know, what the fuck is wrong with you? You're acting weird, I mean weirder than normal, even for you. Don't think I've forgotten whatever the hell was wrong with you earlier when you almost fucking passed out in the hallway or your little tourettes outbreak in the car on the way here."

"Not fair. You said we'd talk about it tonight. It's not tonight yet, Danno." And that came out a lot more petulantly than Steve was going for. Combine that with the fact that he'd unconsciously crossed his arms in front of him while saying it and shit.

"What are you, an infant? Really? Because I'm just curious here. Sometimes I swear you just skipped childhood and it comes out in bursts in between taking down gun-runners."

"No, Danny I did not emerge from the womb as a full grown adult. I lived through infancy and childhood and adolescence. And I was held as a child, thank you very much. There are pictures to prove all of it, multiple pictures."

And they're walking into HQ with Danny mumbling about anti-aging software and the wonders that can be achieved through Photoshop when Danny's phone starts playing his ex-wife's creepy-ass ring tone. Except its after 4 now, which means its Grace with her daily recap of everything she learned in school today, how piano lessons went, and a dramatic retelling of Mr. Hoppy's antics. Danny's face immediately transforms and after one "this discussion is clearly not over and your distraction tactics, while admirable, are pretty damn transparent" glance in Steve's direction, ambles toward his office where he will be utterly transfixed by his daughter for the next half hour at least.

Steve uses this newfound freedom to put his plan into action. He finds Chin in his office catching up on the dreaded paperwork. He looks more than a little relieved when Steve awkwardly shuffles into his office and shuts the door. Chin, hackles immediately up upon the closing of the door, motions toward the empty chair. Steve doesn't sit, that would mean facing Chin directly. Instead, he paces, hands in his pockets then gesturing haphazardly as if the air will speak for him, then back in his pockets. Steve's bound to have surpassed his awkward quota for the month just today and decides to dive in before he can make more of an ass of himself.

"Danny. I just, today Danny was talking and well, Danny's always talking, but today..."

"Yes."

Chin interrupts and Steve didn't think he'd asked a question yet, but the smirk on Chin's face tells Steve that he didn't have to. Thank heaven.

"Really? Fuck brah, I mean for real?"

"Yes."

And Chin seems so sure, so confident in his response that Steve lets out a sigh of pure relief and lets some of the tension drain out of him. Intel found, Steve turns to go but goes still with a hand on the door handle.

"Do, do I?"

And the plea is really just half a whisper with Steve half wondering if Chin will even hear him, if he even wants him to hear how vulnerable that sounds. Vulnerable, infinitely confused, yet hopeful all at once. Steve can't remember ever feeling so many things at once before this damn day.

But Chin's damn near superhuman so of course he hears. But there is none of the mocking Steve feared in Chin's reply. Chin's voice is calm, almost reverent if slightly amused.

"Yes, brah. Both of you. But Steve, don't fuck this up. You two are too good together."

Steve graces him with an honest to god, real, genuine smile and is three quarters of the way out the door when he pauses at the sound of Chin continuing.

"Took you long enough, slick."

"Bite me, Kelly."

Steve flips him the bird as he walks away, still grinning.