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He hadn't been sure if Danny would be at his place that night—they hadn't talked about it, and they have been trying to keep things a little bit low key... at least until they're sure about where this is headed.
Not that Steve's not already totally sure. But Danny needs some time, he knows. So they're taking it slow.
All of which means that after what feels like the hardest day he's had on the job in a long time (and don't imagine he's not a little bit aware of the fact of it being Danny's day off is part of why he feels that way) but it means that by the time he gets home, he's built up fifteen minutes driving time worth of really hoping Danny'll be there. So when Danny greets Steve at the door, smelling like a carnival food stand, he's not just relieved. He's hopeful that it means Danny's feeling increasingly okay about this thing between them. Okay enough to turn his kitchen into a candy factory, evidently.
Something of his relief must show on his face, because Danny reacts immediately.
"Hey, hey...." He’s instantly full of concern, moving forward, needing to touch, and okay Steve likes the attention. "Come here, come... sit."
His tone is comfort and worry and solicitousness, and it's everything Steve needs right now. Well. Not everything. But once they sit on the sofa and Danny's arms come around him, he exhales... that kind of exhale when you don't really know how much you've been holding in. And it feels so good. But it also tells Steve he's becoming dependent on Danny, and he loves it and it terrifies him in equal measure.
Tani's updated Danny, Steve can tell. Steve had guessed she might, when she'd sent him home just that little bit early, claiming the paperwork for herself.
"You okay?"
"She's just a kid, Danny. Such a little, little kid...."
Danny lets out a small breath. To be honest, there's part of Steve that had been glad Danny hadn't been on the job that day. These kinds of cases sometimes bring things out in Danny that frighten Steve a little. Not that Steve is dealing with it supremely well himself, mind.
"Kids are remarkably resilient, babe." He sits back against the sofa and pulls Steve along with him. "Tani said you were great with her."
"I just.... She made me think of Joanie, you know? I just wished I could have protected her from that."
"You did. You got her out, she's safe now, and she's back with her mom, and she'll bounce back. She's young.... She'll find her way."
Steve wants to ask Danny how he can be so sure, but he doesn't have the strength, so he lets it go for now, and he lets himself sink further against Danny, lets Danny hold his weight, takes that comfort from him. He feels a bit like some kind of parasite for it, but he knows Danny has it to give—they've had that conversation too many times, Steve knows better than to protest.
"You wore the shirt," Danny says softly after a while.
Steve smiles. It had been his one source of comfort today. "I like it. It reminds me of you." He hopes that's not admitting too much. Doesn't really mind if it is, except for the whole not-wanting-to-push-Danny-too-much thing.
But Danny's chest rumbles as he chuckles in response. "See? It's possible for you to wear nice clothes." He sounds pleased. Really pleased, Steve thinks. And it encourages him.
"Mmmm." He replies, enjoying the way Danny's running his hands along Steve's shoulders and back, and it's just comfort. It's just soothing. But it feels so amazing, Steve thinks if he were a cat he'd be purring. He'd let Danny pick all his clothes if it meant getting petted like this every day. "So what's up with the sugar factory in my kitchen?"
Danny laughs. "Ahhh. Grace asked for popcorn balls for tomorrow night, and Rachel agreed to take Charlie to the school carnival if I baked three cakes for the cake walk."
Steve grins in excited contentment and nuzzles against Danny's chest. When Grace had asked Steve if she could have a party at his place on Halloween, he'd been delighted. But he had worried how Danny would take it, what he would make of it—in terms of what it signified for their burgeoning relationship. Turning Steve's kitchen into his own like this, though... it makes him think maybe Danny's more okay than he's let on.
"Do you have more to do in the kitchen? Or do you wanna help me get stuff set up out back?"
"I can help you while the cakes cool. If you make dinner while I frost them?"
"Deal," Steve agrees easily, pulling Danny down against him for a long, slow, sweet, drawn out kiss.
Danny had originally suggested they could hang a sheet in the trees, for projecting the movies on, but Steve had wanted Grace's Spooky Movie Night to be perfect, so he rented an actual screen and stand from one of Jerry's friends in the outdoor concert industry. It's totally over the top, and Steve doesn't care in the least.
The half dozen or so blow up kiddie pools he bought to use as cozy seats for the film fest and beds for the sleepover are also extravagant, but he'd seen the idea when he looked online for what Grace was after (despite what Danny thinks, Steve does know how to use the internet), and he'd fallen in love with it, wishing he'd had parties like that as a kid. Besides. It's possible he's hoping they'll use them as a family, maybe make outdoor movie night a regular thing. And it's possible he's freaking out a little at how quickly Grace has grown up, wishing he'd gotten more time with her... so maybe it's his way of making something of that up to her, something of what he'd have done for her, who he'd have been in her life, if he and her dad hadn't had their heads so far up their asses for so much of the past eight years.....
Movie night is going to be amazing, is his point. And when Danny grins as Steve plugs the lights in—twinkly lights hung back and forth from the trees, across the lawn (Steve has been hanging them all week), well. It occurs to Steve there might be a side benefit to his trying to spoil Grace while he still can, because it seems to be doing something for her dad as well.
They stack the inflated pools on the lanai, and when Danny heads in to check on the cakes while Steve says he wants to adjust some of the lights, he tosses one of the pools up onto the upstairs lanai. So he wants to try the idea out, can you blame him?
Danny's started on the frosting when Steve comes back in, and he pours them some wine, puts some music on (Danny's playlist, not his own, that's been one concession he's granted Danny since they started sharing a bed), and starts dinner. Just some broiled fish and some veg—that's been one concession Danny's given. His diet has improved vastly since he's been spending dinner time with his bare feet resting against Steve's under the table. He doesn't complain too much or ask for pasta as often as he used to, and Steve finds hope in that as well, that it means Danny's giving more and more in to this being a real, solid shift in their lifestyle, and not just some temporary side track or experiment.
By the time dinner is ready, two of the three cakes are frosted, decorated, and put carefully away in the cake carriers that had been Steve's grandmother's. He huffs out a silent laugh as he wonders what she'd have made of the man making use of them... decides that her love for Steve would have been enough for her to simply be pleased he's finally happy.
It's an admission he's been holding back from. How happy he is, now. Partly because it means admitting how unhappy he's been. And that hurts. It hurts that it took him so long to see it, hurts that he fought so hard against allowing it. And he knows his fear now, as Danny hesitates, lingering over making it official, this thing between them.... Steve knows his heart is in increasing danger of shattering if Danny turns back.
They eat sitting close at the table. Their spots, as they’ve come to be—Steve at the head, where his dad sat, Danny next to him, just around the curve of the oval table. Close enough that when Steve lets his legs splay wide (as he tends to do when Danny’s within reach) Danny can lean into him, and they can share that grounding contact. Some nights they even hold hands. Dinner’s become a ritual with them, a thing they enjoy, look forward to, plan for... as opposed to the rough and tumble just get some food in your belly that dinner had tended to be, at least for Steve, for so much of his life.
(He loves it like this. So much more than he would have imagined. Doesn’t want to imagine not having it.)
After they’re done eating, he picks up his wine glass, holds his hand out to Danny.
“The dishes can wait... can the cake?”
Danny’s been watching him, slightly uncertain, something new stuttering to life in his eyes, and Steve’s hoping he can give it a little push. Danny shakes his head minutely, but stands, picks up his glass and the bottle, which is still half-full, and nods to Steve, go ahead. He’s thinking they’ll head out to the lanai, Steve knows. But he’d snuck upstairs while Danny was boxing the cakes, and he has another destination in mind. He places his non-wine-glass hand on the small of Danny’s back, and steers him gently towards the stairs. A soft chuckle escapes Danny (one Steve wouldn’t have noticed if not for his hand being where it is) but he leans back into the touch, and climbs the stairs. When Steve guides him toward the upstairs lanai, he can feel the curiosity seeping out of Danny, and he presses his lips together to keep the grin from forming.
Steve’s strung lights up here as well, and the flip of the switch that would turn the porch light on instead illuminates the soft, warm lights, draped from the overhang to the railing in the corner—hanging like a web of light over the inflated pool, which is filled with pillows and blankets.
Danny stills when he sees it, turns to look at Steve, eyes twinkling with amusement and something softer, harder to name.
“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you.”
“Hey, man, I could sleep out here every night. I think it’s a great idea.”
“Mmmm.” Danny replies, setting his glass and the bottle safely on the table at the foot of the pool-bed. He climbs carefully in, as though uncertain it’ll take his weight, but when it does, and he clearly likes it, Steve lets the grin escape.
“Nice, right?”
Danny’s shaking his head at Steve, biting his lips together and licking them. “You are a fascinating creature, babe.”
“That’s a good thing though, right?” Steve asks as he climbs in next to Danny. “This is a good thing?” He gestures around him, meaning the lights, the soft escape... and maybe, maybe something more as well.
The way Danny closes his eyes, takes a drawn out, slow breath, and nods, once—just once—opening his eyes, letting Steve see they’re no longer shuttered, they’re open, all the way open, totally exposed... he knows.
“Yeah, babe. This is definitely a good thing.” And he falls back against the pillows, gesturing with a finger for Steve to follow—which he does.
Their kisses at first are tentative, like they’re still uncertain the pool will support them, and it creaks a little, the plastic settling against the wooden deck beneath them, but it holds. And it’s that little bit buoyant that gives everything a slightly surreal adrift feeling, just enough like floating, and somehow that feels perfectly fitting, Steve thinks, as he’s drowning in Danny’s increasingly heated kisses. That seems perfectly to fit how he feels, sensing Danny’s finally giving into it. All of it.
Even if Steve hadn’t guessed from the look in Danny’s eyes, he’d know now from Danny’s hands on his back. Danny’s hands pulling that blue shirt carefully up so he can touch bare skin, Danny’s hands dipping lower, sliding just underneath his waistband—on both his cargos and his briefs. Hands that know what they’re doing, because they’ve done it before, but hands that feel more claiming, more possessive, more certain than they have the past few months of this. These are hands that Steve imagines taking his own as they sit at the dinner table—not at home, but in public. They’re hands that Steve can see bracketing his face for a kiss in front of their loved ones. In front of the world.
And they’re hands that have worked their way round to the front of said cargos, so they can undo them, sliding in to free what Danny’s after, pushing up on Steve’s chest, under that soft, silky blue fabric, pushing back, pushing down, fumbling with the buttons, spreading the fabric, tugging cargos and briefs all the way off, and then coming back to Danny’s own body. First to rest on his hips as he admires what he’s uncovered, then, impatient, tugging his shirt off over his head, pushing his shorts down, and returning to their work on Steve’s body. Resuming their course, realigning with their target—with persistence, with practice, with a new kind of determination that fills every cell of Steve’s body with purpose, with love, with desire.
When Steve’s hand reaches beneath the pillows under him and emerges with a bottle of lube, Danny gasps, and grabs for it greedily.
But Steve doesn’t want a lot of prep, wants that sting, needs the pain, because the pleasure and the happiness is threatening to be too great and he needs the contrast. And not in a self-punishing kind of way, not in a guilt-tinged way—though he’s certainly wanted that before, Danny knows his tells well enough to be familiar with the longing. Tonight, yes, there’s some of that old habit, but there’s this new understanding beneath it that feels like a revelation. He thinks he’s on the edge of seeing something in a new light, an insight about the point of it all, and what he wants and what he needs and what it means to him that he’s finally here with Danny, finally in this place where it’s really real. He needs to remember it. Needs to feel it. As fully as he can.
It’s as though Danny’s read all those thoughts, or enough of the meaning behind them to comprehend Steve’s desire, and he’s only worked one finger in, lightly lubed, before he tosses the bottle aside and starts to press himself achingly slowly inside. And it burns, god it burns, but Steve lifts to meet him, and wills his body to relax into it, and he’s done it enough to know he can, but it’s even easier than it normally would be, and maybe that’s because he’s so full of endorphins, so drenched in hormones that the pain is nearly indistinguishable from the ecstasy, and he’s afraid he won’t last as long as he wants to. As long as he needs to.
But Danny’s at least as determined as Steve is, and he’s probably more experienced at managing this. (His patience, his ability to go slow, to hold back, where Steve surges forward... that’s always been a fundamental part of their relationship, their give and take, and it’s been no different in bed than it is in the field.) So Steve shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when Danny is able to draw it out, able to take Steve to the edge and hold him there, falling back enough to let the impending surge die back some but not enough, before bringing him right back to that edge, that precipice....
And it seems to Steve as though Danny’s doing it more than just to give him what he needs. He’s doing it to test him, to be sure, to see if he can take it. Not physically (they’ve done far rougher stuff than this) but emotionally. Because this is the true heart of it, this is the very core of it. This is pain and it’s pleasure and it’s hurt and it’s loss and it’s grief, and it’s rescue and salvation and hope. All at the same time, all intermingled so it’s impossible to know which is which. And that’s exactly the whole point.
He doesn’t realize he’s cried, not till Danny’s back with warm, wet cloths to clean him, balm to soothe him, and kisses to wash away his tears.
“Okay,” Danny whispers, tucking himself in at Steve’s side, and clearly giving in to the whole sleeping-out-here concept. “Okay....” And he’s comforting Steve, working him down, easing him back to earth, just like he’s done before. But it’s different. The destination is different. He feels it in his bones. All of Danny’s hesitancy, his reluctance, his need to be sure. Gone. In its place pure knowing. It’s not certainty, because nothing in Danny’s mind is certain. But it’s resolve. Steve knows Danny’s resolve. Thinks he could probably identify the taste of it. And tonight it’s filled his own body, filled the air, filled the sky. It’s swirling around them like a nebula. Stars and constellations and galaxies, all of it, everything focusing in on this, here, now. Them. Finally. At last. And for good.
When he wakes in the morning, it’s to Danny holding a mug of coffee over him. Looking down into his eyes with a softness he’s not seen before. He cringes when he tries to sit, and Danny’s face flutters into worry for a moment before Steve brushes it aside. He doesn’t need to say it, he knows Danny understands. Still, Danny offers him the tube of ointment, and shakes his head in amusement when Steve declines.
“The kitchen is full of cake and popcorn balls and a mess from last night. You up for pancakes at Wailana?”
“Maybe take out from the breakfast burrito place to eat at the office?” Steve offers. And it’s only partly that he’s not crazy about the idea of sitting up straight in public. Mostly it’s because he’s not crazy about the idea of sharing Danny any more than he needs to just now.
He’s still raw from last night, not just physically, but emotionally. And he’s proud of himself for not freaking out, for not being desperate to be certain Danny really is fully on board with their relationship. But he’s also wanting to give himself a cushion of keeping Danny close, keeping as much contact today as he can, so that he doesn’t start to worry. And maybe it wasn’t the best idea, to have finally merged into the relationship realm on this particular day... because the house is going to be filled with teenagers tonight. And as comfortable as Danny hopefully is going to be willing to be now, with the publicness of their status as a couple, Steve’s far too mindful of the need for propriety in this particular context.
(He’ll behave tonight, in other words, but he’s taking as much Danny contact as he can before then.)
Danny nods, understanding, and settles back into the pillows, snuggling against Steve while he sips his coffee.
“So this was a thing...” Danny says, running the tips of his fingers across Steve’s bare abdomen. “That I liked very much. And would do again.” He looks up at Steve, up at the lights, which are still on, looks around at the branches of the tress that jut up against the railings. “Kinda like sex in a tree house, but on a boat.”
Steve grabs Danny’s hand in his, kisses each finger, then rests it over his heart, holding it there with his own hand. “Can I take you out on a boat?” He asks, softly, almost afraid to ask, not wanting to be turned down.
Danny sucks a breath in, and Steve knows it’s pushing. Knows it’s a test of his own, like Danny’d been testing him last night.
“Maybe...” he replies softly, nestling against Steve’s side. “Yeah, maybe.”
Steve tries not to let his heart get too excited, guessing that that maybe might mean even more than last night’s tangible shift did. But Danny reads the hope nonetheless, and it amuses him, brings a sparkle to his eyes that feeds directly into Steve’s situation under the covers.
“What time...?” Steve asks, more to gauge Danny’s willingness than any real concern over scheduling. He is the boss, after all....
“We have time,” Danny replies, sliding swiftly out of his sweats and climbing back under the blankets with an eagerness that surprises and delights Steve. Perhaps it’s the fresh air... or a continuation of his reaction to Steve going overboard with the setup for tonight. Either way, it feels new, this thrill, this willingness, and Steve dives right in, muffling Danny’s reasonable comment (“Especially if we’re grabbing take out.”) with kisses as he works his way on top of him, finding the bottle of lube with almost magical speed, determined to make it as easy for Danny as he can.
His own rawness from the night before offers him a counterpoint to the pleasure, and it heightens every touch, every move, reminding him of the emotions Danny’d offered him—imbuing each touch this morning with the flavor, the energy, the memory of that shift, that development, that fall into this new phase. Because that’s what he has to call it, a new chapter of their ongoing saga, and he’s certain it’s going to be his favorite yet.
Danny meets his kisses with equal parts tenderness and heat, pulling him in, pushing him onward... maybe seeming a little over-eager. But Steve wants to savor this, wants to go slow, get Danny properly ready, and he’s making a statement with that, not that he intends to, but he is nonetheless—saying alright, now we’re here, let’s see what this looks like. As though each touch, each kiss, each thrust has the potential to be altered, because of this alteration in their relationship. That’s how it feels to Steve—he’s known it would, and he needs Danny to see it as well.
By the time Steve works his fingers tantalizingly slowly towards Danny’s hole, sliding a well-lubed finger in, Danny’s laughing—tense with need, frustrated at Steve’s slow progress, and he pushes back against Steve’s hand, only to meet resistance in the form of Steve’s weight pressing against his lower body, saying gently but definitively wait.
“There’s taking it slow and then there’s driving me insane, babe.” Danny squirms beneath Steve, who twists to brush Danny’s prostate and is rewarded with the most beautiful gasp.
“Mmmm, see? Patience has its rewards,” Steve murmurs, leaning forward to capture Danny’s lips with his own, running his free hand over Danny’s side, rubbing softly over the indent at his hip, holding him in place more from a promise of it being worth his cooperation than by sheer force of strength. But the reminder is there, that he will use the not-inconsiderable strength at his disposal, if necessary. Tension surges through Danny’s body, as if he might resist, but when Steve hits that spot again, Danny concedes, and it’s almost as though Steve watches it leave his body, the tension, the protest, the fight, the need for control.
Just like Danny’d drawn Steve’s pleasure out the night before, bringing him to the brink only to hold him there, Steve draws Danny out in getting there. It’s as though, now Danny’s given into being on board with their relationship, Steve needs to show that he gets what it means. Needs to demarcate it for Danny the way Danny had for him the night before.
He’s let Danny have control over things, over the pacing of their being together. Because Steve knew he needed to wait for Danny to decide. But now Steve’s certain Danny thinks he’s given him that decision, that admission, in the way they made love last night, now Steve needs Danny to be sure. Steve needs to be sure.
And he’s going to do that by seeing if Danny will let him control things this morning. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe it’s pushing too much, too fast a change. But he doesn’t think so. Danny’s giving into Steve’s ministrations, he’s gone lax, back against the pillows, giving himself up to Steve’s agenda in a way he doesn’t typically do—though in all fairness, Steve doesn’t typically seek it. Not here, not in bed.
But he’s seeking it now, and Danny’s giving into it as though he’s been doing it all along. And maybe that says something Steve should have realized. Maybe it means he’d given in even before he made it clear to Steve that he had. And that sparks something in Steve, and he slows even more, expecting a protest from Danny, but instead Danny meets him, meets his slowed pace, so much so that by the time Steve finally slides that second finger in, it’s almost too much. For both of them.
This is intensity and intimacy on a completely new level, and Steve, who had begun by imagining it as a proving ground, instead looses himself in the sheer experience of it. It feels like floating and falling and he’s dizzy with the lack of air because he can’t stop kissing Danny and even when he’s not, he’s almost hyperventilating. Three fingers... slowly, agonizingly slowly. Danny’s eyes have long since glazed over, completely given in to that trance-like, just barely held back from the edge of almost-too-much-but-not-nearly-enough pleasure.... And Steve’s not aware of much, but he’s utterly aware of how meaningful it is, how much total and complete trust it indicates, that Danny’s slipped wholly into it, not resisting. And Steve is being so careful, but he’s not thinking about it, he’s almost as gone to it as Danny is—listening to some deeper voice, following some higher sense of something... it’s as close to a transcendent experience as he’s had not under anesthesia or delirious from injury.
And it’s so, so, so much better.
He finally enters Danny, and he’s almost forgotten about himself, until this moment, and he’s buzzing with bliss, flooded with this humming, fuzzy sensation, like all his nerve endings are synced. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually glowing. And he’s stunned with how long he lasts, how long they both last, and when they do come, simultaneously, it’s totally different from any orgasm he’s ever had. Not that intense, shooting relief—it’s not sharp, it doesn’t wrack his body with convulsions... it’s more like it seeps out of him, and out of Danny, as though they’ve become merged, melded, blended... boundaries simply don’t exist here in this bubble of whatever paradise this is. And as they float down from it, they lock eyes, Danny’s slowly clearing from that glazed distance, and Steve knows.
Everything’s different now.
They get ready for work, they tidy up the kitchen, frost the last cake, set out the pillows and blankets for tonight, all in a fog, all in some kind of odd, soundless, numb mist of something soft and warm and other-worldly.
Food, when they finally get it, dissolves enough hazy barrier to allow them to function on earth... but Steve can still feel this alliance they’ve forged, almost like it’s an entirely new presence of its own, something separate from them both but intertwined, holding them together. He’s never imagined they could become more connected, more synchronized, more a pair than they’d already become.
Oh, how wrong he’s been.
Danny runs interference for Steve that day, partly because his energy level is through the roof (and Steve wonders if Danny didn’t lick his fingers a little too much while frosting that last cake) but it’s also partly because every time Steve moves he flinches, and Danny pretends to be concerned for him, but Steve thinks it’s that Danny knows they work with detectives. Insightful, observant, sharp people with sassy mouths and dirty minds, and they haven’t talked yet about how they’ll tell the team, but unless Steve is very much mistaken, Danny has the whole menu planned out for a team dinner—at the restaurant before they open—featuring a dramatic unveiling of them as a couple.
And Steve doesn’t want to ruin that for Danny. Doesn’t dare. So he stays put, lets Danny deal with what little comes up that day—evidently all the really awful stuff got used up on Halloween eve, and the day itself is mostly silly stuff that doesn’t require their attention. Which leaves them catching up on paperwork and heading home early, which means they have some time to themselves before the kids arrive.
And that is fortunate, because Danny spends it smoothing ointment on Steve’s tender bits, then kissing him till he wants to undo all of Danny’s patient, through handiwork.
“Ugh, Danny, you have to stop or I am never going to make it through tonight.”
“You have no self control, do you.”
“How long have you known me?”
Danny shakes his head, rolls his eyes just barely. But he leans back in for more kisses, so Steve’s thinking Danny maybe doesn’t mind so much as he likes to let on.
“Thank you for this, for tonight, for letting me have this,” Steve says softly, fingers carding through the hair he accidentally (okay, not really accidentally) loosened from the fierce grip of the industrial strength product Danny uses.
Danny leans into the touch, hmmms and looks into Steve’s eyes, his amusement plain. “Oh this is between the two of you. She wanted it, I think you needed it. I'm just along for the ride.”
He hears the implication—that Danny knows Steve is intent on spoiling Grace. And he’s been surprised Danny hadn’t objected, somewhere along the line. He expected Danny to manage him more through this. Hold him back, scold him, point out he was being extravagant. Something. But it never happened, and Steve’s not totally sure what to make of that, not sure what it means—and alright, he’s been a little distracted, and he kind of stopped thinking about it, after last night and this morning, but he’s thinking of it again now, and he’s even more confused than he had been before.
“I hope it's more than that,” he says. “More than just a ride....” He trails off, trying to get a read on Danny’s reaction, figure out what he’s doing here, where he’s going with this... what his game is.
Danny grins, entertained evidently, by the look of confusion on Steve’s face.
“Babe. The two of you have always had your own relationship. I long ago stopped trying to interfere in that. Why would I interfere now?”
Steve squints. Tries to think. “Because it’s different now... because of us?” He feels like that’s a no-brainer, and he’s surprised Danny wouldn’t see it that way.
“What, because I’m sleeping with you, now I have to parent both of you? Not how it works. You made your bed with this. You can manage expectations, you can negotiate anything that comes up.” He stands with a pat on Steve’s head, and turns to go down to the kitchen to get the food ready. “Welcome to parenthood, babe.”
Steve’s mind is spinning. But in a totally great way.
He changes into sweats—his costume, thank you, off-duty Navy officer—and follows Danny downstairs.
“You’re not going to...?”
“What? Tell you how to do this?” Danny grins, takes a sip of his wine. “Nope.” He starts assembling the mini pizza stations, arranging toppings in bowls across the counter, a stack of baking sheets off to the side. Steve thinks it’s incredibly open-minded of him, the different toppings he’s allowing the kids to choose from. (No fruit, though. Obviously.)
Steve struts up behind Danny. Wraps himself around him. “I can’t decide if I love that, or if it terrifies me....” Steve whispers in Danny’s ear, as he nips kisses along it.
“You’d be an idiot if it didn’t terrify you....” Danny chuckles, and just as Steve thinks he’s about to be swatted away, Danny grabs onto his arm, the one that’s wrapped across Danny’s chest, and holds it more firmly against himself. “But then, nothing seems to frighten you.” He takes a deep breath. “Not even this....”
Steve goes still, stops breathing. His heart and Danny’s are loud in the sudden quiet. Slowly, carefully, he turns Danny around in his arms. Brings one hand up to where Danny’s hair is still falling loosely against his head.
“The only thing that scares me is not having this.”
It’s sappy. He knows it, and he knows that’s treading into dangerous territory with Danny. Steve knows this because he’s a sappy drunk, and Danny’s a salty, sassy drunk. And any time Steve’s attempted sweetness with Danny, drunk or sober, he’s been rejected—either simply and out of hand, or mildly with begrudging allowance. So it’s a risk, he knows it. But it’s one he’s willing to take, one he thinks he has to take, given how Danny set him up for it. He couldn’t have not stepped out on that limb, not when Danny is already there.
“Yeah, me too,” Danny breathes. He stands on his tip-toes, presses a feather-light kiss to Steve’s lips, settles back on his feet with a shy smile.
Steve feels his own grin in response threaten to split his face, feels his whole body warm, almost go numb. And maybe that’s partly the cream Danny used on him, maybe it’s the flood of endorphins, the flush of sheer joy. He really doesn’t care what it is, it’s the most amazing feeling he’s ever felt, and he’s over the moon with it.
It carries him through the evening. Through a dozen teenage girls, making pizzas, concocting mixed drinks of the fruit and soda variety, laughing and joking and having a truly wonderful time. And that only serves to escalate his elatedness. This feeling that he belongs. That this is his now, not just some connection he’s borrowed from Danny. But his in his own right, and it fills a need deep within him that starts to feel healing in a way his relationship with Grace never had before. And maybe that’s just dumb. Maybe he could have had this all along, but it feels different to him. And he’s pretty sure it feels different to Grace as well.
When her mom had dropped her off (and picked the cakes up) Steve had started to wonder about that, about Grace’s feelings in the matter of his relationship with Danny, and what it meant for their relationship. Something about the way she surveyed the preparations—the twinkly lights, the screen and projector, the pillow-and-blanket-filled pools. She’d grinned in a way that felt somehow layered to Steve. Like it wasn’t just her own excitement, her own anticipation... and he’d wondered about that, till he saw her hug Danny. And then he’d known.
This was her test.
She’d made it pretty plain to Steve, when she’d first worked out he was finally sleeping with her dad (her words, not Steve’s), that it was her belief they were fated for a lot more than just sleeping together. He hadn’t thought she’d be impatient. But he probably should have known better. Danny’d said it ages ago, that Grace has more in common with Steve than with Danny, when it comes to certain key personality aspects. Impatience and high expectations are two of those areas, Steve knows that.
And probably she’d been a little bit patient at first... but as summer turned to fall, and fall looked to be heading swiftly into winter, her patience, along with Steve’s, had undoubtedly begun to wear thin. When she’d come to him, asking if he’d let her throw a Halloween party at his house, probably he should have realized her agenda. Because, really, it’s the same as his. And it goes something like this: not wanting to be anything other than totally and completely a family in time for the holidays.
Well, he’d worked it out at last, why Grace had begged for the party, while she was surveying her dad’s food preparations, teasing Danny about the variety of options, sweetly not mentioning the absence of pineapple. And she’d glanced up at Steve, right as he figured it out, and that one look between them had been enough to let him know she’d seen that he’d figured it out.
You’re welcome, she mouthed at him while Danny was preoccupied with pizza dough, offering Steve a smirk he knew mirrored his own (he knew because Danny had complained about Steve having taught it to her... which is probably at least partly true).
It’s not till later she gets a chance to acknowledge him privately. He’s in the kitchen grabbing fresh drinks for him and Danny, and Grace comes in for more popcorn balls. She stands grinning at him for a bit, almost as though she’s waiting for him to admit something. When he doesn’t, she steps forward as though she’s going to hug him.
“Welcome to the family,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek.
“How’d you know?” He asks softly.
“What, that you’d go overboard with it? Or that you going overboard is what would finally push Danno over the edge to admitting this is a relationship?”
“Either? Both?”
“I am a detective’s daughter, please remember. And I’ve been watching the two of you for eight years. I think I’ve realized a few things about you both in that time.”
“Like I tend to go big or go home?”
“Something like that.”
“But that Danny usually....”
“Complains about it?” She smiles. “Yeah, but you know he loves it. Especially when it comes to family.” She pauses to pick a piece of popcorn off one of the balls. “I really did want a Halloween movie night, though. Sara’s never seen a horror movie before, and she wanted to, even though she was afraid... and I wanted to do it right for her.” She nods her head towards the living room. “Better get back to dad, he’ll be wondering what we’re plotting next....”
“Thanksgiving?” Steve suggests hopefully.
“I’ll message you,” she replies on a grin.
Once he’s settled back on the sofa with Danny, Steve asks if he knows what Grace meant about her friend.
Danny nods. “Sara,” he says. “Her entire village in Syria was wiped out by a bombing and she survived for a week on her own before she was found, and eventually reunited with her aunt, here on Oahu.”
Steve has watched all the girls tonight, and has been impressed with their open, loving warmth, the compassion they clearly share, all of them. He never would have imagined any of them had any scars, any traumas—let alone one so severe.
“See what I mean about the resilience of kids?” Danny asks, softly, brushing his hand against Steve’s arm, leaning against him just a little. “There’s always hope.”
Steve chuckles faintly, warmed by Danny’s touches and his words. And by Grace and her friends and the hope they represent. It’s a comfort to him, tonight maybe more so than most nights.
The girls eventually settle down for the night, in their pool beds out on the lawn, beneath the stars... and Danny takes Steve by the hand and leads him up to their perch on the upstairs lanai, looking out over the sleeping promises, out to the ocean, and up towards those stars... which somehow don’t feel quite so far away tonight.