Dry County

a/n: This one wasn't inspired by the song title, but by the structure of the song – slow, fast, slow – which has always got to me more than the lyrics, for some reason...

And, hey, how's this for a good first word? lol

-5-0- Love -5-0-

Sex with Steve was not the best part about their relationship. There was no doubt that it was fucking amazing – pun intended. In fact, it was the best Danny had ever had, and it wasn't just because they were good at it – though, hot damn, were they good at it. It was amazing because of the thing that was actually the best part about their relationship: the connection and the love they shared, and how well they knew each other. Even during the best years with Rachel, he'd never felt like this, never knew it could be like this.

The sex was like their relationship in general, like them. It was passion and intensity and love and laughter.

Sometimes it was 911-what's-your-emergency? I-don't-think-I-can-keep-it-in-my-pants-until-we-leave-the-Palace.

Sometimes it was machine guns and grenades and long range, heat-seeking missiles and hand-to-hand combat and explosions and screams.

Sometimes it was like it was right now, tonight: whispers and butterflies and feathers and marshmallows and cartography and torture and fire.

Steve had been worshipping his body – there was no other word for it, really – for what felt like hours already. Maybe it had been hours, Danny wasn't really interested in the time right now. And it didn't seem like he was planning on stopping any time soon. Danny was wound tight as a spring.

His knuckles were turning white where his hands gripped the slats of their bed. Thy only thing holding them there were Steve's words.

"Don't move," he'd said, holding Danny's hands on the pillow above his head.

He'd looked straight into Danny's eyes – into his soul, he was sure – with an intensity reserved only for him. The look screamed 'I love you'; it said 'you're everything to me'; it promised that Steve would do anything for him; it begged Danny to believe him. No begging was required, of course. Danny knew all of that, just like he knew Steve saw all of that in Danny. It was this secret they carried around with them about the other. Not many people – if any other than Danny – knew exactly what was under the gruff military exterior; just like Steve and Grace knew everything hiding under his Jersey bluster.

"Let me love you," he'd said, before releasing Danny's hands and proceeding to lay butterfly kisses and feather touches and whispered endearments over every inch of Danny's skin. It left Danny arching into the touch and begging to reciprocate.

He knew it would be a long while before Steve gave in to those pleas; it always was when he got like this.

It wasn't melancholy. It was pure happiness; unconditional love. To Danny, he looked like someone who just won the lottery and his prize was the taste of Danny's skin and the sound of Danny's gasps as he took him apart inch by inch.

And it wasn't like Steve was the only lottery winner here. He never teased Danny more than he could handle. And when the emotions and the sensations finally tipped Danny over the edge, it was always more intense than any hard and fast fuck. Steve would clean him with his tongue, mapping him in reverse, whispering 'I love you' against his lips. He'd peel Danny's fingers from the headboard, kiss his knuckles, soothe his sore fingers with his tongue, trace over his little tattoos with his teeth.

He'd finally fall asleep with his lover's arms around him, his ear to Danny's heart.

-5-0- War -5-0-

Steve had seen a lot of horrible shit in The Teams. Terrorists and insurgents with twisted ideals and extremist views. But the worst monsters were right here in his own back yard. The most horrible crimes he'd seen the evidence of were in his home town.

Still, Steve was happy. He was deliriously happy. The kind of happy that unhappy people – like he and Danny had both been, once upon a time – hated. He couldn't help it. He had Danny to wake up to every morning. He had Grace and Charlie – he had kids! Or at least, he had Danny's kids that he loved as his own, that he made horribly disfigured animal-shaped (so he insisted) pancakes for and ganged up on Danny with just to make him rant. He even had Mary and Joanie, even if they were thousands of miles away.

Steve McGarrett's life was damn near perfect, something he never thought would be possible for him, even a couple of years ago.

But every once in a while, his brain would decide it needed to remind his heart who was in charge here. He could never predict when that would happen. Sometimes, the nightmare would come after a hard case, sometimes they came when he was so content with life that it had actually been days or weeks since he'd last thought about all that shit he'd gone through.

Still, he was used to the nightmares. He hated them, but he was used to them. Panic attacks? He was an old pro. The thing was, being deliriously happy meant he actually had something to lose now. And whatever part of his brain that was in charge of programming his nightmares ensured he knew it.

There were still bullets and mortar rounds, death and betrayal. There was still Wo Fat and Doris and Afghanistan and that plane over the Pacific. Sarin, Colombia. They were all there, all the same as they always had been.

But sometimes, they morphed. Sometimes, Danny was the one Wo Fat had taken, and Wo Fat was a better shot in those dreams than he had been in real life. Sometimes Danny was the one in Afghanistan, and the rescue team arrived thirty seconds later. Sometimes Danny, or even one of the kids, was the one riddled with bullet holes over the Pacific and no one was a match.

Those were the nightmares that kept him up at night, that even Danny had trouble talking him down from. Because Danny had always joked that Steve would be the death of him and in the darkness, Steve believed it, couldn't be talked out of it.

All they could do was wait it out. Wait for the light of day to wash away the fear – Grace's voice over the phone, or her bright smile at breakfast, and Charlie's innocence.

After the first time, Danny never made that joke again.

The flashbacks... those were new. These weren't just memories that came to him that he could acknowledge and let pass while he was standing on his beach, sand squished between his toes, watching Danny and the kids playing in the water. These were actual conscious nightmares that took him away from his beach and transported him into whatever fresh hell his brain had decided to play for him that day.

It hadn't happened very often, but after the first one, he'd told Danny he would leave when the kids came around. If he didn't know where he was, how could he be sure he wouldn't—

Danny'd told him he was an idiot and held him and promised him he wasn't going crazy. He already was crazy, after all. Somehow that made him laugh and the panic started to release its grip on his heart.

-5-0- Love -5-0-

Steve wasn't the only one who could take things slow.

As much as Danny loved his children, wanted them with him all the time, he was able to acknowledge the opportunity and take advantage of a day off without them.

Like making sure he woke up before Steve, if only to wear him out so much he didn't go for his usual crazy-ass workout. He'd make sure Steve slept until noon – because not only was that the right and proper thing to do on a Sunday morning, but Steve needed it, even if he wouldn't admit it. Then they'd shower together. Maybe they'd bother to put some boxers on when they went downstairs to make some coffee, get some breakfast.

Danny would press his body against Steve's back, kiss his shoulder, as he walked behind him to put bread in the toaster. Steve would take Danny's hand, lick the jam off his fingers. Danny would feed him a piece of pineapple, then steal the juice from his lips. They'd sit tangled together on the couch and call the kids while they shared their breakfast off the same plate, feeding each other and smiling and laughing while Grace and Charlie spun their tales.

Then, they'd get naked again, go back to bed, or maybe the couch on the lanai, if Danny was feeling adventurous. They'd laze around and steal kisses and touches and whisper promises to each other and Steve never once even looked like he was going to complain about the wasted day.

Because this was not a waste, not when the job meant this was such a rare occurrence.

Then it was Danny's turn to take his prize of Steve's taste and Steve's gasps as he took him apart piece by piece, proving to Steve, through not just his touch, but his words, that he deserved all of this.

Because Steve was pretty and he was strong and he was confident in so many areas of his life, but not always in this.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Danny."

"I can't believe this isn't a dream."

And, on his darker days – because everyone has those, no matter how much you love and are loved, it's just that Steve's are a bit darker than most –

"How are you still here?"

"Why me?"

And it wasn't fishing for compliments, but genuine curiosity and confusion. It was something that, even if he felt with others, he would never voice to anyone but Danny. That was how much they trusted each other.

"Because you are amazing, Steven, and I love you."