Title: A matter of trust.
Pairing: McKono forever!
Spoilers: mmh episode 2x14. Lots of mentions of the Joe/Shelburne situation, which means SPOILERS if you haven't watched the last episode.
Disclaimer: blah blah blah.
A/N: People have been asking me to write the actual conversation between Steve and Kono, which lead me to THIS. I know it's not worlds greatest sequel, or greatest fanfic ever so...thank you for reading and asking me to write this. Hope you like it!
Sequel to the story "Trust me"
After Steve's rushed invitation that day we went to grab a beer. For a second I thought he was going to take me to his place so we could have a more private place to talk. Yes, talk. Don't get me wrong and please get your mind out of the gutter, thank you. But instead of taking me out and actually talking to me, he took me to a crowded bar that was so noisy that every single person there had to scream instead of talk. I figured that since I told him he could trust me, and he believed it, this was the perfect time to sit down like grown-ups and discuss the North Korea issue. But by the time I was halfway through my third beer I knew we were getting nowhere with this. Especially since none of our topics involved torture, pain or anger. The bright side of it was that I had an awesome bonding time with Steve.
Halfway through the night, with more than one beer on him, he told me I looked beautiful in shorts and that he liked the way I smiled.
Drunk Steve is fun and flirty and I love the combination.
The next couple of weeks we didn't discuss the beer issue at all, mostly because I was hundred percent sure Steve felt slightly embarrassed about his confession. So I pretended it didn't happen as I am pretty good at ignoring things.
Then something happened and the old sad Steve was back in no time. And then I remembered the whole point of going to that bar, the promise of being a good listener and a reliable person. I wanted to bring that up to him but I figured that the office wouldn't be a nice place to do so. So, I waited. I waited for days for him to come to me and ask me to talk. But he never did and I figured he needed more time. Still does.
It's been two days now. Two days and no sign of Steve trusting me at all. I wonder if he actually remembers what I told him or if he decided to ignore it again? On impulse I grab my phone and dial his number but hang up seconds later. Maybe he's really not ready this time; maybe this (whatever happened) is way more complicated than him being tortured and me being pushy will not help at all.
I guess I should let it rest for the night, see if I can come up with something tomorrow.
Then a knock on the door distracts me from my actual plan, being get some sleep. I look at my night stand; midnight. Who would visit at midnight?
What a surprise.
I open the door to find Steve. He looks tired, even more than usual, and once again his eyes are no longer bright but dark with some unreadable emotion. I wish I could know how to read him better than I already do, but somehow these last couple of days he has learned how to hide himself really well.
"Sorry to bother you so late," he whispers. "I had nowhere else to go."
Honestly, I am honored and flattered that I am the one he comes to when one of the other people he could choose from was Danny. My heart breaks a little though, at the sound of his voice. There's a little bit of sadness in it.
"Don't worry about it, come on in."
I move aside and he walks in and takes a quick look at my house since he has never been here before. He takes a few steps to the couch and drops himself heavily on it, sighing. I sit next to him, not too close but not too far, our knees are almost touching and it seems as if I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Suddenly the air feels so heavy inside my chest.
"Are you okay?" I ask finally and he shrugs.
"I don't know, really…" he speaks softly, his eyes lost in space, "I was but then I wasn't. You know?"
"Are you drunk?"
"I… am a little, yeah."
"Was it before or after you decide to come here?"
I know there's no need for me to even doubt Steve is a complete gentleman, but I can't help but wonder if he wanted to do something other than talking.
He looks at me, his eyes staring at my eyes then moving slowly to my lips. He reaches out for my hand and gives it a light squeeze before letting it go.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here," he says, already making his way towards the door before I could say something.
"Wait, Steve," I speak and he turns around slowly, "I'm sorry, that was rude. Please stay."
He thinks for a second and then sits down in the same spot he was sitting before. He lays his head on the back of the couch and closes his eyes.
I still wonder why he is here in the first place.
"Joe left," he speaks, eyes still closed, "but before doing so he told me Shelburne is not an actual person. He said it was an alias he and my dad made up, something to draw the Yakuza's attention. But then he told me Shelburne killed Wo Fat's dad. I said to myself, 'I mean how is that possible?', you know? And he told me that he killed Wo Fat's dad, but he never said a word because he was trying to protect me and Mary Ann."
He speaks so fast I have a hard time catching up, but then I remember he's wasted and desperate to share this with someone.
"You know what that means?" he lifts his head and looks at me.
"No…"
"That I was tortured because of Joe."
"Steve, you can't say that."
"Joe killed Wo Fat's dad, he thinks that Shelburne killed him and I'm supposed to be the only link to him, which is now true since Joe…" he sighs heavily, shaking his head in disbelief, "I almost died in there, Kono. Jenna died because of it."
He tilted his head back again, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as if the words brought back all of the memories he wanted to forget and now with all the information he was supposed to process, his attempts at moving on and forgetting were left behind.
"Joe would have never wanted you to get hurt and you know it," I say, "He loves you like a son, Steve, and whatever he was trying to do was only to keep you safe."
He looks at me again and moves to sit up straight. He looks very uncomfortable. He's having a hard time and he doesn't know what to do about it.
"I know. I understand he was trying to protect me. That this drawing attention to the Yakuza was only to keep our family safe," he speaks, "but I can't help but be angry and disappointed. Each time I asked him about Shelburne, each time he lied. He could have trusted me, you know? But he didn't. And there's…"
"There's what?"
"I don't think he's being completely honest."
"What? Do you think he's hiding something else?"
"It hurts me to think about it, but yes. I believe there's something else he's not telling me."
"About Shelburne?"
"About everything…"
There's a silence in the room. Steve processing this brand new theory of his and me processing all of this information. But there's also the fact that he was angry and desperate and sad, and I'm really trying to figure out a way to make that go away but I couldn't, because Joe was the closest thing Steve had to a father and he had lied to him and I just can't imagine how that feeling of mistrust and disappointment could be left behind.
"I'm sorry," he speaks all of a sudden, apologizing for the second time already.
"Sorry for what?"
"I shouldn't have come here so late and burdened you with all of my issues," he said. I was half sure he was sobering up.
"I told you before, Steve. You can trust me; you can talk to me about whatever you want. And you're certainly not a burden at all. "I smile kindly at him, "even when you're drunk."
He smiles back at me and holds my hand, caressing it softly. I catch my breath at the sudden intimacy.
"Where have you been all my life?" he speaks, drunken Steve showing up again.
"Alright then! I guess I should go and make us some coffee!"
I get up quickly, but he pulls me back to the couch and I feel like I am about to freak out. Then his hand is on my waist and the other one moves to touch my cheek with so much tenderness I could melt right there. For a minute I'm lost in his beautiful blue eyes, in the soft warmth of his hand but then, as his face moves towards me, I suddenly need to back away because no matter how much I want this, how much I want to feel his lips upon my lips, he is my boss and he's very much drunk. It wouldn't be nice for me to take advantage of that.
"Steve. Don't do this," I speak, with my hand on his chest, pushing him slightly away.
"What?" he makes no attempt of moving away, which makes everything harder for me and almost impossible for me to resist.
"You're drunk," I whisper.
"I was half an hour ago," he speaks, his eyes no longer focusing on my lips but on the nape of my exposed neck.
"Should I remind you that you're my boss?" the light kisses he gives me and the movement of his hand underneath my shirt turns my words into a whisper.
"I am not your boss right now," his face is right in front of me, and I release a breath I had no idea I was holding making him smile a little. "I'll go away if you ask me to."
Is he seriously asking me this? I'm amazed at the sudden change of events. One minute we were talking about Joe and the next minute we were about to start a make out session on my couch. I lost my train of thoughts for a second.
"I don't know," I answer, closing my eyes for a brief second. I really want this, I think I lost count of how many times I've dreamed about being like this with him, but not like this. Not when he's half drunk and when he might wake up tomorrow and regret everything and leave me heartbroken.
He nods slowly, sitting up straight and fixing my shirt in process. There's once again this awkward silence between us, which is more than normal after all of this if you ask me, and I sit there stealing glances and wondering if I am going to cry or not.
"I think I should go," he speaks finally and just like he first came in, he makes his way to the door without looking back, and I sit there in the same position, unable to move, unable to speak. "I… thank you for… everything."
He turns around a little, an apologetic look plastered all over his face. I'm not sure if he regrets leaving or doing what he (we) were about to do.
I find myself standing in front of him, holding his hand before he could hit the door. I lift my head slightly, and it was enough hint for him to move towards me, his lips barely touching mine. He kisses me, sweet, slow and passionate. And I know this is cliché but I don't care. This, all this, is everything I've dreamed of, everything I've ever wanted; the way his hand moves, once again, underneath my shirt, the way he presses me against his chest and the way our lips just mold together. This is what I call perfection.
This is what I call trust and love and a bunch of other things I just can't think of right now, because the way his lips feel on my neck are enough to distract me for days.
THE END
A/N2: I have no idea if Steve actually feels he was tortured because of Joe, or if he feels any anger towards him at all. This was written from MY point of view and my feelings about this whole "Joe is Shelburne then he's not"