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“Damn it,” Steve cursed to himself and frowned. He was concentrating on the object in his hands, and the expression on his face was not a happy one. Danny walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder so he could see what the problem was.
Steve was holding a knife, a huge combat knife it looked like, and on the table in front of him was a whet stone, a couple of cloths and a few other accoutrements as he tried to clean it.
Today had been a bad one, they’d almost lost Junes, Tani was at the hospital with him now, Danny and Steve had ended up in close combat, which was why the knife had come out.
“What’s up, Babe?” Danny asked him and looked at the knife in his partner’s hands.
“There’s a nick,” Steve groaned and pointed out a large indent in the blade, near the tip. “It’s not salvageable.”
Danny looked closely at it and frowned. “That’s not a nick,” he said and reached for the knife himself. Steve handed it over and he studied it closely. There was such a chink taken out of the side of the blade he was surprised the tip hadn’t sheared off completely. “Was it sentimental?” he asked as he studied it. He knew this knife, a Ka Bar Steve had been using since he’d known him, but the SEAL had never told him where he had gotten it from. Danny was concerned it might have been a gift from Freddie.
Luckily Steve shook his head. “I got it from Navy stores,” he explained and held his hand out for it back. “I just liked it.”
Danny nodded, cogs whirring. “Uh huh,” he said absently, handed it back and then got out his phone. The item he wanted was already in his cart in his online shopping app, with a couple of presses it was paid for and winging its way to him.
Steve knew him well enough to know that tone and he bent his head back to look up at him. “What?” he asked curiously. “What was that tone?”
Danny smiled at him and bent to press a kiss to his forehead. “Lunch?” he asked and walked off towards the kitchen.
Steve watched him go then turned back to his weapon. Which he then put down and left so he could follow his partner.
Lunch turned out to be Danny’s home-made bagels, toasted and smothered in a mixture of cream cheese, cold meats, tomatoes, lettuce and was filling. And, knowing the SEAL could be like a dog with a bone when he wanted to be, Danny took him back to bed and provided an afternoon of distraction.
A few days later they were both at home, Junior safely ensconced in his room too, when the doorbell rang. Danny quickly stood up, ushered Steve to stay on the sofa, and answered it. It was a delivery driver, a young female Steve could see, and he frowned when Danny seemed to have to produce some ID before she would hand over a medium sized package. He was grinning though, as if he was expecting it, and she smiled at him and handed his ID back with the package. With a “thanks” Danny watched her go before he closed the door, too polite to shut it in her face, and returned to the sofa.
“Here, Babe, I got you a present,” he said with a smile and handed him the shoe-box sized package.
The Commander frowned as he took it. “It’s not my birthday, is it?” he queried as Danny sat down next to him.
His partner laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Do you really think I would let you forget it if it was your birthday?” he retorted, amused. “Just open it, you goof. Stop asking questions.”
“Spousal abuse, that’s what this is,” Steve grumbled, but he did as he was told and ripped open the package. Pulling out the ubiquitous scrunched paper he was left looking down at a smaller black box.
The second box had a large dark grey knife blade depicted on top, with Ka Bar Knives inc decals around the side. Steve stared at it for a few moments before he looked over at Danny. “What did you do?” he asked, awed.
Danny smiled at him. “Like I said, bought you a present. Open it,” he encouraged and nudged him with his elbow. “While we’re young.”
Steve grinned at him. “You’re older than me,” he teased but did turn back to the box. It was held together by two pieces of tape on the underside that he broke with his thumb nail. And then slide the tight fitting lid off with one large hand.
Inside, nestled amongst bubble wrap was a sheathed knife. The hilt was visible, a light reddish brown in colour, with a silver pommel and bronze guard. The rest of it was hidden in a tan leather sheath. Steve took the knife from the box and turned it reverently in his hands. The sheath felt like soft leather, it had a loop he could use on a belt or ankle holster, a silver popper to hold the knife handle secure. He flicked that open with his thumb and gently unsheathed the knife.
It was a hunting knife, the 8 inch blade beautifully shaped and unblemished, one wickedly sharp bevelled edge, the spine thick and sturdy, all tapering to a sharp point. He grasped the hilt in his large right hand and it felt like …. it had been designed for him. It was well balanced and a reassuring weight, and he looked over at his attentive partner. “It’s beautiful, Danny,” he told him, awe-struck. “Thank you. Really, I don’t …” He shook his head, he didn’t have the words. So instead he put the knife down and cupped Danny’s face in his hands instead. “Thank you,” he said and kissed him gently. “I love you.”
Danny smiled at him and placed one of his own hands on the nape of Steve’s neck, it’s favourite place. “I love you, too,” he replied and kissed him back. “It’s the right one then? I didn’t know which one to choose.”
“It’s perfect, absolutely perfect,” the SEAL assured him. “Absolutely.”
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Every time Danny saw Steve use the knife he got a kick out of it. The first time he spotted it was in rendition when they had an uncooperative bad guy in the chair, already wearing a darkening set of bruises on his face that matched the ones on Danny’s fist. He looked over at Steve to find him leaning against the wall, in full view, cleaning his nails with the tip of the blade. He looked up with a smile. “This is great for cleaning blood out of my nails,” he told him and stood straight. “You wanna try it on our silent paedophile here?”
Danny smiled, an evil one that came out every so often. “Is it sharp enough to castrate him?” he asked as Steve stalked closer.
“Probably,” the Commander replied as he stood next to Danny in front of their perp. He showed the guy the knife. “Shall we try it?”
The perp hadn’t needed much more persuading after that.
There were other times it came out: Danny winced the first time Steve had to use it in self defence, slashing at the huge bodyguard who had a massive hand around his neck, trying to strangle him. Danny himself had two others who were trying to kill him too. He managed to despatch one by grabbing him round the back of his head and smashing him into the nearest wall. The other leapt at him at the same time as Danny pulled out his gun. The shot stopped the fight, the shock of the noise gave Steve enough time to use the knife to stab the killer du jour in the shoulder, enough to stop him, to get him on the ground so Steve could flip him over and zip tie his wrists together, ignoring the guy’s curses. “Danny!” he shouted, turned and grinned to see his partner, unharmed, standing over his two with a smile on his face.
“Book ‘em Stevie,” he retorted, amused.
Steve laughed quietly and nodded, conceding the point. “This time,” he told him, using the knife to point at him. “Don’t get used to it.”
The time he used it to cut the green wire of a large bomb, grinning at Danny’s curses behind him as his partner paced the small space rather than get to a safe distance. “It’s okay Danno,” he told him as he moved the two ends of the wire out of the way. “I took lessons from Mac, it’ll be fine.” Danny obviously didn’t believe him, or he was hiding it very well. He stalked over and leant over his partner’s shoulder to look at the mess in the steel box in front of them both. “Why do we get into these messes? I just wanted a decent cheese burger, that’s all,” he said, his arms in the air, gun held tightly in one hand. “And here we are, diffusing a bomb in a supermarket. Who puts a bomb in a supermarket? And on a Sunday?”
Steve smiled and sliced another wire with the knife. “Psychopaths, Danny,” he told him calmly as he worked through the circuits. “Those who don’t understand your need for a burger.”
“Exactly, Babe, exactly.”
Or the time he used it to carve Jack Skellington faces into pumpkins for Charlie and Grace’s Halloween party. They were not perfect but a big hit nonetheless.
Or when he used it to dig the wicks free out of the tiki torches for another barbecue.
When he used it to weigh down the corner of a map; to cut some stems of wood to show Charlie how to make wooden skewers for kebabs while they were camping; to threatening to use it to chop some tomatoes for a salad.
There were hundreds of instances, big and small when he used it, for work and otherwise, making Danny smile whenever he saw it.
Danny himself had used it a few times too: to cut ropes that bound a kidnapped Steve: “What have I told you about going off on your own, you great goof?”
“I wasn’t on my own, Chin was with me. Where is he?” Steve asked, concerned.
“Safe, embarrassed, Kono shouting at him, just like I’m going to do with you,” Danny told him. He looked him up and down as Steve stood up. “Any injuries I should know about?”
Steve shook his head, shook his arms out and stretched his neck and back before he walked over to the side of the room where his kidnappers had stashed his stuff. “I’m alright,” he assured him as he checked one of his guns. “Are there any more bad guys left to shoot?”
Danny shook his head as he tooled up and waited to hand him back his knife. “They all surrendered when they saw a pissed off Kono with a really big gun.”
Steve laughed as he strapped the knife back around his ankle where he normally kept it. “She has that effect,” he commented. “Lead on.”
To unscrew door hinges in a room they were both trapped in, gritting his teeth all the time as Steve kept telling him it would never work, telling himself it was not good form to stab your partner with a knife you bought him as a gift. And when it worked, when the door loosened enough so he could pull it open enough for them both to slip out, he’d used the knife to indicate to the space and way of escape. “After you, SuperSEAL,” he’d told him, and gave back the knife when his partner glared at him and held his hand out for it.
Or when he’d used it to pry a bullet out of a tree trunk for evidence. Or that time he’d used it to threaten a minor gang banger to give them the information they needed for their murder for hire case.
He’d even threatened Steve he’d use it to gut a fish when the Commander and Lou were laughing at him for not being able to. (He ended up using a filleting knife, quicker than Lou and Steve could do, not as quick as Renee or Kamekona.)
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Now Danny found himself holding the knife in both hands, checking the blade for nicks or rust, the sheath for any damage or stains. It was in perfect order, Steve had kept it in tip top condition. But as with everything else, Steve had left it behind for Danny to deal with. He was gone, left everything and everyone, after telling Danny that only his Dad’s murder had kept him here in the first place, and was gods knew where with Catherine. The same woman he had dumped Danny for the first time they had tried a sexual relationship, the same woman who had dumped him several times, one spectacular instance leaving him to be beheaded by the Taliban. Danny should be used to watching Steve walk away from him, he certainly told himself that, but it still hurt like hell.
The detective had decided to move back to his own home, there was no point in him being at the beach house any longer when the person he had moved in for in the first place had left him behind. When gathering his stuff he’d found the knife tucked away in a drawer where Danny had found one of his phone chargers and found himself spending some time just looking at it. Now he shook himself out of it and put it gently down in the back of Steve’s gun safe, along with the other precious items he’d found, lying around.
Maybe Steve would want it, and the rest of the items he’d abandoned if he ever returned. Danny wasn’t going to hold his breath.
End