Chapter Text
Hours. It's been hours that he's been lying there like a dead fish on the sand. The storm ceased some time ago, he has no concept of how long it's been. He only knows he's feeling the grit of wet sand against his body, the uncomfortable plastering of his shorts and tee shirt to his skin and is thirsty as hell.
Steve pushes himself up to his knees, takes a moment to assess his surroundings. It's still night. The sky is clear, stars and the moon shining down from an inky black sky. There aren't any lights nearby unless you count the faint glow of the street lamp out at the end of his driveway on the street. There's no breeze. There's no sound; even the ocean is silent.
He sighs and comes to his feet, trying in vain to rid himself of the errant sand where it's stuck in both the hair on his head and on his legs and arms. Up to the lanai, open the door, step inside and strip. Naked now, and feeling more than just a little disgusting and a whole lot empty inside, he picks up the soaked tee shirt, shorts and underwear and heads for his laundry room.
He's just gotten the three items dumped into the washer and is getting ready to put some soap in when he hears the front door open with its usual creak. Frowning, every muscle tensing, every nerve on edge, he steals to the door of the laundry room, slips silently across the kitchen and stops in the entryway to the living room.
When he sees who it is that's closing and locking the door behind him, all the tension drains out of him. At least this time it's not armed thieves or someone hell-bent on murdering him or…no. No, this is worse. This is much worse.
Because it's Danny.
Danny, the man who Steve just spent hours lying on the beach having an epiphany about.
Shit.
All his muscles go tense again. And he completely forgets that he's—
"Oh, man, warn a guy, would ya?"
Steve blinks. Danny's staring at him.
Staring.
Steve looks down at himself.
Oh. Right. He's naked. As a jaybird. As the day he was born.
Well, if you don't count millions of sand crystals stuck in uncomfortable places, that is.
"Sorry, I just…" Steve's voice trails off as his hand flaps useless in the air, in the vague direction of the kitchen. "What, uh…what're you doing here at…what time is it?"
Danny's giving him an odd look, like not only has he found his partner buck naked and that's thrown him a bit, but even moreso the fact that Steve has no idea of the time. "It's just after one in the morning," Danny replies. "At least, when I got out of the car, it was."
"Ah," Steve nods, and keeps standing there. His hand moves to the back of his neck. He rubs it, can't look Danny in the eye even as the man crosses the living room slowly.
Of course, Danny notices.
"So," Danny says. "Is there any special reason you're wandering around your house naked at one in the morning looking like the tide just washed you in? Were you swimming? In the dark?"
"No, I was just…outside. Got caught in the storm."
Danny blinks. "The storm that ended two hours ago?"
"Ah…yeah."
Narrowing his eyes, Danny steps closer. "It's not that I don't appreciate the view, partner, but…really?" he says, voice low, hands gesturing to Steve's nakedness.
"You barged into my house, Danny, I can't help how you found me." No, Steve's not pissed, but he's letting his voice get a pissy edge because he can't right now…he…he can't, Danny's standing so close and he…his eyes, looking right up at him, and in the light of the moon that streams into the house's windows they're almost glowing, those blue and orange irises, and Steve's caught…stuck…stuck looking, staring, he…oh, God…
"Hey," Danny says softly, then swallows hard as his eyes rake down over Steve's chest, further, looking all the way down the line of his body to his toes. Slowly his gaze moves up…up…up…and catches Steve's again.
Steve thinks all the air's been sucked out of the room. He's pretty sure of it because he can't breathe.
"I couldn't sleep," Danny says. He looks away, turns to the right, perpendicular now to Steve. He runs a hand through hair that looks much fluffier and less 'done' than usual. "I think I'm…" His voice trails off.
"Danny?"
Steve wants to touch. Wants to touch hold kiss love feel hug stroke pet oh God how he wants.
Loves.
Loves Danny.
"Danny?"
Steve's starting to feel itchy all over, and he doesn't think it's because of the sand. When Danny's voice comes, it's a quiet whisper and Danny…his face, he looks…mortified. "I think I'm making a huge mistake."
Steve doesn't move a muscle. An eyelash. Not a single hair. He doesn't even blink. His mind is racing, racing, trying to figure out what Danny could mean, yes, of course, probably marrying Gabby but why, why, it's just…it's only a few days away, the bridal shower and bachelor party are tomorrow, is he—?
Danny's face turns, looks up at Steve's. He's expecting words. Expecting something. Anything. Anything.
"Don't you love her?" is all Steve can manage to squeak out of his throat.
And Danny's face goes sad, eyes changing to match it as they hold Steve's. As his mouth opens but no sound emerges.
"Cold feet?" Steve asks next because he doesn't know what to do with that look, that face, with Danny standing there right in front of him, less than a foot of space separating them. Everything inside his body reaches out toward Danny, crying like he was doing on the beach earlier, wanting, wanting, "Dammit!" he spits, whirls, heads back into the kitchen but then stops in the middle of the room not far from the table, feeling himself about to hyperventilate and he doubles over and Christ, it means his bare ass is sticking right out there in the air if Danny follows him in, but what if Danny doesn't follow him in, what if he leaves, what—?
The front door shuts.
No.
"No!" Steve cries. He turns and sprints through the house. He hears the Camaro's engine rumble to life even as he throws the front door open so hard it bangs against the wall. He steps outside as the car's headlights come on. Runs to the driver's side door, bangs on the window.
The window slowly rolls down. "Are you out in your driveway naked?" Danny asks incredulously, like that's the only damn thing that matters here.
"Get out of the car, Danny," Steve says because now he doesn't care anymore about the wedding, isn't even thinking about tuxedos or parties or Gabby or anything but the fact that Danny's here, Danny thinks he's making a mistake, Danny wouldn't tell him why he thought that.
Maybe Steve knows why.
Maybe.
If he doesn't try, he'll never know. He almost didn't know. Almost didn't have a clue. Almost didn't have a chance, even if it is a snowball's chance in Hell.
"I shouldn't—"
"The hell you shouldn't!" Steve bellows and doesn't give a rat's ass if his neighbors heard it, if it woke the dog two houses down, doesn't give a flying fuck if anyone pulls into his driveway and sees him, Task Force Leader and Navy Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett in his altogether standing there yanking the door of the Camaro open and manhandling his partner out of the driver's seat with the car left running and headlights left on.
Danny sort of meeps and then sort of squeaks and his hands are on Steve's pecs like lightning to steady himself and Steve's fingers are fisting the fabric of Danny's stupid long-sleeved button-down shirt right where the sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows and he's got maybe two seconds of Danny starting wide-eyed at him before he brings one hand up behind Danny's head and smashes their lips together.
It wasn't the shy, quiet romantic gesture Steve's brain had imagined in his angst-fest out on the beach.
But it's the best motherfucking sensation he's ever felt in his entire life.
And Danny's high-pitched whine and then low-pitched moan as he opens his mouth and lets Steve in, makes Steve think Danny's on-board with that assessment.
Danny's hands slide over Steve's collarbone, up to the back of his neck, one hand slightly higher feeling his hair, the other holding Steve in place just as much as Steve's holding Danny in place and it's fireworks and it's marching bands and it's explosions and it's electrifying and Steve thinks his knees might not hold him up and he can hear the Camaro's engine slice through the moment and wants Danny, wants him more, still, yet, loves he's got him in his arms, tongues tasting, dueling, mapping, lips crushing so hard it hurts and Danny whimpers and Steve pulls away.
Eyes meet eyes.
Danny takes in a shuddering breath, seems like he might lose his ability to stand, too, the way he trembles under Steve's touch.
"Gabby…" Danny breathes, voice full of regret, fright. "I don't…I don't know what to do."
"Call it off." Sure of himself now, knowing Danny wants this, wants him. "I love you, Danny. I didn't realize it until yesterday, I didn't—I love you. I can't…you can't marry her. Please don't marry her."
There.
All said.
Out in the open.
Danny's eyes fill with tears. "Yesterday?"
Steve nods, thumb coming up to swipe at the lone tear that escapes Danny's left eye. "When you had your tux on."
Steve's shaking. Danny's shaking. They're shaking together.
Together.
They can be together.
Danny wants this. Steve, God knows he does, with everything that's in him.
"Me, too," is what Danny whispers and Steve realizes he isn't the only one who had an epiphany and shit, they're so stupid, the two of them, so goddamn stupid, Danny almost made this huge mistake and how, why did it take them so long to figure this thing out? "I love you, too, Steve, I…" Tears flow from Danny's eyes, yet he's smiling through them. "Jesus Christ, I love you."
Steve pulls him close, holds Danny tightly to his body, revels in the heat Danny throws off, he's always so hot, always burns so bright, like maybe that hair of his is on fire from the Sun itself and he knows it sounds corny even in his own head but doesn't care because right now it's fairy tales and rainbows and unicorns and all the pretty glitter things that Gracie loves and Steve wouldn't be surprised if fucking angels started singing and strumming harps in the air around them right now because he's soaring, he's flying, he's holding the love of his life who loves him back.
"I should go talk to her," Danny says quietly, pulls away enough that he can look up at Steve. "I can't stay here, with you, until I talk to her. And then…all the details, I…Grace, what am I gonna…?"
"We'll tell Grace," Steve says, hand coming under Danny's chin, holding it, stroking his jaw with his thumb. "We'll tell everyone we need to tell, but…are you sure, Danny? Are you sure you don't want to marry her? No regrets if you call it off for me?"
"For us," Danny corrects, some of his old sarccy sound creeping back in. "For us, Steve. I don't know how to do this with you, with a guy, but…I realized looking at you yesterday, knowing what was about to happen, that I can't…"
Danny looks like he's run out of words. Seems to completely lose his ability to say anything more.
And he doesn't have to, because Steve knows.
So Steve nods, backs away. Gestures toward the Camaro. "Go. I'll be right here."
Danny takes a deep breath, pulls away, nods, sinks into the driver's seat. Watches Steve as he leans down, leans in, leans close. Closes his eyes when Steve brushes his lips across his.
"I'll be back," Danny tells him. Steve nods, backs away, shuts the door once Danny's pulled his legs in.
"We're crazy," Danny observes as he puts the car in reverse.
"Yeah," Steve says, smiles, backs up a couple steps.
Danny matches the smile, and then as though he's made the final decision, turns and looks behind him to back out of the driveway.
Steve stays in place until the Camaro's well out of sight.
He's going to go get the washer started, so his nasty sandy wet clothes won't be ruined.
Then he's going to take a shower.
Then he's going to sit on the couch and wait for Danny to return.
There are going to be consequences. To Gabby. To Grace. To Five-0.
But the consequences if this hadn't happened, if they hadn't realized this before a marriage, would've been much much worse.
They'll deal with the fallout. With peoples' reactions. With the hurt feelings and the guilt. They'll deal with it together. Just like they've always done everything together from the moment they met.
"He loves me," Steve whispers as he heads back toward the front door. He stops. Looks up at the sky. Sees a shooting star, the first one he's seen in years, streak across the sky, and smiles. "Thank you," he says to Whoever might be listening out there. "Thank you."