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The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Steve’s lanai, but he wasn’t watching the ocean.
He was watching them.
The air smelled of steak and salt, but all he could taste was bile.
Danny and Mary were on the outdoor sofa, leaned in close enough it looked like they were sharing the same breath. Her hand rested on his knee—easy, unthinking.
Steve’s grip tightened on the tongs.
Danny was laughing. Not the usual sharp, sarcastic sound, but something open, unguarded. It pulled at something ugly in Steve’s chest.
“Hey—hold on,” Danny said, leaning in. “You’ve got—”
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth.
Mary stilled for half a second, then caught his wrist lightly, more amused than surprised. “Wow. Thank you.”
Her eyes flicked to Steve—quick, unreadable—before sliding back to Danny like he was the more interesting problem.
Steve slammed the steak onto a plate harder than necessary. The clatter made them both look up.
He crossed over, setting the plates down and stepping between them without asking, forcing space where there hadn’t been any.
“Food’s ready.”
Mary leaned in as he passed, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm.
“Relax,” she murmured, just for him. “I’m just borrowing him.”
Steve went still.
Not a joke. Not really.
Danny watched them, a slow grin spreading. “Okay, what was that?”
Mary leaned around Steve’s stiff form, her smile triumphant. “I told him not to look so worried,” Mary said easily. “You’re allowed to have friends, you know.”
Danny huffed a laugh, glancing between them. “Oh, I like her,” he said, pointing lightly at her before looking back at Steve. “She’s got your number, babe.”
He leaned back into the sofa, completely at ease. “I think I might be in trouble.”
The next day offered no relief. If anything, the knot in Steve’s stomach had tightened overnight.
He was trying to bury himself in the Henderson case at HQ, but he couldn’t focus. Every time he looked up, he expected to see them. And sure enough, around noon, she walked in, carrying a deli bag.
“Delivery for one Daniel Williams,” she announced.
Danny smiled. A real smile. “Mary Ann. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She brought him a sandwich. A pastrami on rye. Extra pickles. His favorite. How did she know that?
“I also got you that slice of coconut cream pie,” she whispered, leaning against his desk. “Don’t tell your doctor,” she added, quieter.
Steve slammed his laptop shut. “Williams. My office. Now.”
He spent the next hour assigning Danny mind-numbingly tedious busy work. Not because it needed doing. Because he needed him where he could see him.
The gut punch came the next morning.
Steve was scrolling through his phone when a picture popped up, tagged by Mary.
Danny and Mary, at some jazz bar, candlelight between them, heads close together, faces alight with laughter.
Sometimes the best plans are the ones you don’t make. #HonoluluNights
Steve stared at the screen.
This wasn’t just flirting anymore.
A few nights later, they were at a bar, when she showed up. Again. Like a bad penny.
They played pool. Steve watched from a distance, knuckles white around his beer bottle.
He watched Danny’s hand settle at the small of her back—easy, familiar.
Mary didn’t move it.
Steve walked over. “Mind if I get the next game?”
Danny looked up, annoyed. “We’re in the middle of a game here, Steven.”
“Looks like you’re losing,” Steve retorted, his eyes locked on Mary.
Mary, to her credit, didn’t back down. She sank the eight ball, and looked directly at him. “Game, set, and match. Better luck next time, Danny.”
She said his name like she already owned it.
The final straw came a week later.
Steve was in his office, door ajar, trying to finish a report. He could hear Danny and Mary talking in the bullpen, their voices low and easy.
“You know, I have to go to Kauai next weekend to check on a new tour site,” Mary was saying. “It’s a total pain, but the Na Pali coast views are supposed to be incredible.”
“I haven’t been in ages,” Danny replied. “Grace loves it there.”
“The offer’s open if you two want to tag along, I could use the company. You can pretend you’re working if it makes you feel better.”
“Seriously? Yeah, Mary, I’d love to. We could fly out Friday evening, make a whole weekend of it. Back Sunday?”
“Perfect! It’s a date, Williams. Don’t you dare stand me up.”
Steve stared at the screen. It's a date. The words burned. This wasn't just flirting. This was a life being built, piece by casual piece... and he wasn't in it.
The ride home that evening was silent, at least for Steve. Danny hummed along to the classic rock station, entirely unbothered.
Steve drove past the turnoff for Danny’s street.
“Uh, Steven? My house was that back there,”
He didn’t answer. He drove towards the North Shore, towards his house, towards the lanai where this had all started.
The truck crunched to a halt on the gravel of Steve’s driveway. He got out, slamming the door, and yanked open the passenger side. “Get out,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
He didn’t let go until Danny was on the lanai.
“You’re not going,” Steve finally said, his voice a rough growl.
“Not going where?”
“Kauai,” Steve bit out. “With her. You’re not going.”
“Yeah, I’m going to Kauai. With Grace. And Mary. What’s it to you, Steven?”
“Don’t,” Steve warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Don’t act like this is nothing. I heard you. ‘It’s a date, Williams.’”
“Yeah, it’s a figure of speech!” Danny snapped.
“What is your problem? Is it so impossible for you to see me happy? To see your sister happy?”
Steve closed the distance in a single motion, backing Danny up until his shoulders hit the sturdy post of the lanai railing. His palm hit the wood beside Danny’s head, caging him in.
“You’re not going,” he said again. “You’re not getting in that car with her. You’re not doing any of it.”
“Give me one good reason.”
Steve’s gaze dropped to Danny’s mouth, then back up.
“Because you’re mine. And I don't share.”
Danny didn't flinch. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face.
“Yours?” a low, challenging whisper. “Make me.”
Steve surged forward and kissed him—hard, rough, all teeth and pressure, his hand fisting in Danny’s hair.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t controlled.
Danny’s hands hit Steve’s chest, meant to shove—then stalled.
Fingers curled instead. Grabbed. Pulled him closer.
Steve broke the kiss, forehead dropping to Danny’s, both of them gasping for air.
“Now,” he said, low. “Are you going to Kauai?”
A long moment, Danny didn’t answer. His eyes focusing, the daze clearing into something steady and resolved.
“No,” he said. Firm. Final.
Then, he shoved Steve hard enough that he stumbled, genuinely off-balance.
Danny used the momentum, spinning them and slamming Steve back against the post. Tables turned. Now Steve was the one caged.
“You’re an idiot,” Danny said, his voice quite and raw. “A complete, emotionally-stunted, Neanderthal idiot.”
He leaned in, deliberate, full-body contact, nothing frantic about it.
“You don’t get to claim me,” Danny said. “Not unless I get to claim you back.”
Steve’s breath hitched.
Danny closed the last inch, but he didn’t kiss him. He let his lips brush Steve’s—barely there, but even more intoxicating than the force from before.
“If I’m yours,” Danny murmured, “then you’re mine.”
And then he kissed him. Slow. Deliberate. Taking his time—mouth soft, then deeper, drawing Steve in instead of overwhelming him.
Not a fight.
An answer.
Steve's hands were still on Danny’s hips—tight, like he hadn’t realized he was still holding on. He felt Danny shift against him, just enough to make it impossible to ignore and his grip tightened.
One hand slid to Danny’s back, pressing him in, holding him there. The other stayed at his hip, anchoring him, keeping him exactly where he wanted him.
Danny leaned into it—just slightly, just enough that it felt like a choice. His own fingers curling into Steve's shirt like he meant to keep him there.
Steve exhaled sharply against his mouth, the control he’d clawed back slipping again, piece by piece.
He broke the kiss just enough to breathe, but didn’t go far. Couldn’t.
His forehead pressed back to Danny’s, his hand tightening at his back.
“Say it again,” Steve said, low.
Danny’s mouth brushed Steve’s, just a ghost of contact.
“I’m yours,” he murmured. Then, quieter: “If you’re mine.”
Steve answered by pulling him flush and kissing him again—harder, with less hesitation and more intent.
This time, neither of them held back.
The bar was easy that night—music low, conversation layered, the familiar clink of glass against ice.
Mary turned her phone idly between her fingers. On the screen: two messages from Steve, sent within minutes of each other.
Stay at a hotel tonight.
Then, after a pause long enough to mean something:
Thank you.
Kono read over her shoulder and let out a short, delighted laugh. “Oh my God. Finally.”
Chin shook his head, smiling into his drink. “Took him long enough.”
“Do you know how painful it’s been?” Kono went on. “Watching that man pretend he wasn't completely gone?”
“Loud too,” Chin said. “He’s not subtle.”
“He’s worse when he’s trying not to be,” Mary said.
Kono pointed at her. “What exactly did you do?”
Mary lowered her glass, expression going just a touch more pleased.
“Nothing I didn’t have help with.”
Chin’s looked up slowlyl. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kono’s eyes went wide. “Wait—he knew?”
Mary’s smile sharpened, just a fraction. “Not at first.”
Kono leaned back, laughing. “No—no, that’s evil. You dragged Danny into a sheme?”
“Please,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t drag him anywhere. He volunteered.”
“The flirting,” Chin said slowly. “The jazz bar. Kauai— “
“Danny’s idea actually. Once he understood the assignment.” Mary’s mouth curved. “He's surprisingly good at it. Very dedicated.”
Kono pressed a hand to her chest. “I am impressed and mildly terrified.”
“You should be,” Chin muttered.
Mary shrugged. “They were circling each other for months,” she said. “At some point it stops being tension and starts being ridiculous.”
Kono raised her glass. “Fair.”
Chin clinked his against it, then glanced at Mary. “Still could’ve warned us.”
Mary smirked. “And miss the look on your faces?”
Kono laughed again, shaking her head. “So what—you and Danny just decided to ruin his life for a week?“
“Improve it,“ Mary said. “There’s a difference.“
Kono opened her mouth, then closed it. Conceding the point.
The table went quiet for a moment. Mary turned her glass slowly, gaze drifting toward the open doors and the dark stretch of ocean beyond. Her phone screen had gone dark, but the message was still there underneath.
Thank you.
“Trust me,“ she said, almost to herself. “He’s fine.“
A beat.
“He’s got Danny now.“