A/N: Story was inspired initially by my trip to Miami in August. I've also borrowed the title & some inspiration from the Dave Matthews Band song, "Two Step."

Part 1

This wasn't something he normally did. Despite his reputation, despite his outgoing and confident personality…he didn't normally jump into things this quickly.

But Martin had caught his attention from the get go…albeit in a bad way at first, as Danny had presumed so many things incorrectly about him. But that had been his mistake, and as the layers had been stripped away and they'd spent more and more time together, he'd learned just how wrong he'd been.

Especially so the first night they'd kissed.

Smiling softly, he glanced to his left and watched Martin discreetly. He was flipping through the Sky-Mall magazine, a glint of amusement in his blue eyes as he looked over the ridiculous merchandise. Before he got caught, Danny turned away again and looked out the window, trying hard not to let the nervousness he always felt on flights become too intense. He looked up sharply when he felt Martin squeeze his hand. His eyes were wide as they connected with the other man's, taking in Martin's soft smile, the warmth of his hand. It was a comfort he hadn't expected; that Martin could read him so easily already, could sense his fear and that he wanted to comfort him…

Danny could feel himself relax and he smiled thankfully at Martin, gripping tightly to his hand and threading their fingers together.

That Martin pulled away a few minutes later – when a flight attendant passed by – didn't bother Danny as much as it might have with someone else or in another situation. Everything had changed for him with Martin. He'd gained a patience he'd never had before and an understanding that had been foreign to him in the past.

He and Martin's relationship had crackled with electricity since the moment they'd met. But it had gone from a misunderstood competition to a grudging sort of respect and camaraderie, to friendship and finally to a sexual tension that had erupted into first a night of passion and then a new and slightly uncertain relationship.

Uncertain because the prospect of them lasting, of becoming long term was nearly impossible to imagine. Not because Danny didn't want that, but because there was so much up in the air, so many strings, so much that didn't quite fit. It was daunting, but the more and more time they spent together, the more Danny found himself desperate to make it work.

Sighing, he settled back into his seat and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the sounds the plane made that he didn't quite trust – despite Martin's earlier reassurances that they were perfectly normal.

He still couldn't quite believe they were doing this. Taking a vacation. Two weeks alone together in Miami. And they'd only been a couple for a little more than three months. And this was what he didn't do…jump into something so quickly, especially in a relationship that was still so new and didn't even quite work at times. But Jack had been handing out vacation time like it was Christmas, and neither of them had tried to think too much about the way they'd snatched it up so quickly and had planned a vacation together before they could let rational thought set in.

His only comfort was that he knew that Martin too had second-guessed himself at least a dozen times. Because this wasn't something Martin did either…moving so quickly in a relationship. Especially this relationship.

Danny had come out in college and for the most part, it hadn't been overly dramatic or even that nerve wracking. His friends at the time had accepted it rather easily, quickly and then it was old news. It hadn't been easy per se, but he'd gotten through it rather unscathed. With everything else he'd been through in life, admitting he was gay had been rather painless.

Things were different for Martin though. He'd hidden it for so long that it had almost become a lie in a way. And Danny knew how hard it was for him now…struggling with his sexuality in his mid-thirties, still wanting to hide, desperate to stop hiding, confused and depressed. It was why Danny found himself able to be so patient with the other man.

Martin had so successfully buried any sort of feelings he'd ever had towards members of the same sex. That he'd kissed Danny so impulsively had been due to the highly charged atmosphere of the moment they'd been in. The end of an extremely bad case…tears had been shed, emotions were running high. One moment he'd been unsure how to calm Martin's wild-eyed desperation, the next he'd found himself wound in the other man's arms, kissing him, holding his trembling body against him until Martin had pulled back breathless and confused.

Danny knew he'd taken advantage of things from there. Not letting Martin run away from Danny's apartment the way he wanted to, encouraging him to stay with soft touches and gentle murmurings. He still felt a twinge of guilt every time he thought about how things had gone then. How he'd seduced Martin shamelessly, selfishly. He'd been determined. The moment he'd gotten a taste of what it was like to have Martin in his arms there was no turning back. He'd found himself filled with want and desire that up until that point he hadn't even fully let himself appreciate.

That Martin hadn't run away the morning after was still something that Danny found puzzling. But, Martin had a well of strength in him that often stayed hidden until he really needed it.


The drive to the hotel was quiet for the most part, and at first Danny grew worried, wondering if Martin was already regretting their hastily planned trip. A part of him was fully expecting him – if not today, then soon – to make up an excuse to go home early. But he'd glanced at Martin several times, and where he'd first read uncertainty, he slowly picked up on happiness, relief, even excitement.

"I can't believe you left Florida to come to New York Danny," Martin scoffed, eyes glued to their surroundings, a hint of a smile gracing his lips with every palm tree they passed.

Danny's emotions quickly flared up for just a moment and he said nothing rather than speak quickly and say the wrong thing. One hand gripped tightly to the steering wheel, the other a fist at his side. His thoughts were jumbled, warring with each other; caught between a happy response to Martin's wide-eyed appreciation of his home state and the hot-tempered desire to snap at Martin that New York had been an escape. Hell, even South Dakota would have been an escape.

Again he found himself surprised, eyes glancing off the road in front of him for just a moment to find Martin's fingers entwined with his own. Their eyes met for a quick second and Danny felt a rush of relief – mingled with regret for the words he'd almost said – wash over him. Martin understood. Understood even though he didn't know.

While Danny had drawn Martin out of his shell considerably, getting him to open up about his family, his secrets, his feelings; Danny had given him very little in return. In regards to his past anyway. Martin knew the basics…knew about his abusive home life and his years spent in foster care, his convict brother, his alcoholism, but Danny had yet to really let him in. He knew what had happened, but he didn't know how it had broken Danny again and again; how it had – for a long time – bled him dry of any genuine emotions or feeling. And Martin had tried. Tried to get past Danny's walls and see something real, but Danny continually kept him at bay. Every time he'd give him something small, something insignificant that he'd play up and force more meaning and emotion into that just wasn't there. And every time he felt terrible, knew that Martin had probably figured out what he was doing, but kept up the façade that he was buying it. He wanted to be more honest and open, but each time he thought he might be able to, his throat closed up and he found himself desperate to keep hiding.

And even now, Martin had no idea how close they were to the root of Danny's secrets. Miami Beach was mere miles from where he'd grown up. Where tourism-themed streets changed over into something darker, somewhere any travel guide would advise against visiting. The brightly colored buildings and local culture went from being pleasantly tacky and inviting to run down and dangerous.

As they drove, he skipped the shortcuts he could still remember and stuck to the main roads, even made a wrong turn once just to pretend he wasn't overly familiar with the area. He drove on silently, hating the lies he was perpetrating, knowing that if he drove a few blocks in a different direction they'd be on the outskirts of his old neighborhood, where the nicer buildings were just starting to appear rundown. A street with a small strip of stores, bland, nameless…a favorite hangout place when he'd been a teenager. A good meeting spot for friends or enemies. Stores that were easy to steal from and drink cheap liquor behind.

Anguished, he gripped more tightly to the steering wheel with one hand; keeping his other hand relatively relaxed in Martin's gentle grip, and turned the car so that they could drive on another street…closer to the beach, to the tourists. Maybe if he pretended hard enough he could convince himself that he was just another one of them.

Danny had calmed down considerably by the time they reached the hotel. A glance in Martin's direction as they stepped out of the car confirmed what he already knew: that he hadn't hidden his distress as well as he'd wanted to. But Martin said nothing, smiling instead as he walked around to Danny's side of the car and stood in front of him. It sent all sorts of shivers through Danny when Martin placed his hands on his hips and leaned in closer, pressing a soft, quick kiss to his lips. He grinned in response, eyebrow raised slightly in surprise. He wanted more. Wanted to lean in and sink his hands into Martin's hair and deepen their kiss, but he knew not to push, and already this closeness was an unexpected but incredible surprise.

The Martin of two months ago would never have dared to kiss Danny outside, in public where they might be seen. He couldn't say if it was because they were in Florida, miles away from anyone who knew them, or just Martin becoming more comfortable with his sexuality and their relationship. But it really didn't matter to Danny, and he continued smiling - his darker feelings momentarily forgotten - as they entered the hotel to check in.

Their room was bright and airy, typical Miami Beach décor, which gave it an interesting mix of classy and tacky. But it had a king-sized bed, a bathroom with a big tub and a balcony that faced the ocean. Martin lit up as he saw that particular feature, letting go of his suitcase and crossing the room to open the sliding-glass door.

The smell of the ocean was even more potent as the breeze rustled the curtains and woke Danny's senses. He smiled, following Martin out onto the balcony, unable to deny the feeling of home that settled over him. Whether that was due more to the way Martin turned in his arms and kissed him or the heat of the sun and the scent of the ocean he couldn't say. But it didn't matter. He slid his arms around Martin's waist and pulled him closer, murmuring his name as they kissed again.

The sex had been unexpected…for Danny anyway. But he wasn't about to complain. They lay still now, tangled up in each other, the door to the balcony open so the ocean breeze drifted over their bodies, drying the sweat on their skin. He thought about the way Martin's eyes went all unfocused and glassy when he came, how he had no problem with anything Danny wanted to do to and with him, but talking about it made him blush nearly all over.

Smiling, Danny pressed closer to him, sliding his hand slowly up Martin's back to his neck and then into his damp hair. "So, how are you enjoying Florida so far?" he asked with a smirk.

Martin laughed, bright and clear as he leaned in, ducking his head to kiss Danny again, bringing one hand up to rest against his neck. "I think you know the answer to that," he murmured.

Danny smiled, feeling an amazing sort of happiness flow over him as Martin smiled back against his lips. It was incredible what this man could do to him. Make him forget, make him believe…make him want so much more than he thought he deserved. They were quiet for a while after that, drifting in and out of sleep, lingering in the feelings of closeness that only grew stronger every time they were together.

When he woke up a while later, he turned on his side, drawn by the sounds behind him. He smiled softly to himself as he watched Martin unpacking his suitcase. He was so precise…putting clothes into the dresser drawers, taking toiletries into the bathroom, neatly hanging up his suit. Danny felt a rush of affection for the other man based solely on his compulsive need to organize. Rolling his eyes, he turned and laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how far in over his head he really was.


They spent the first few days on the beach, relaxing into an easy routine that neither of them was used to but grew to love within a matter of hours. There was something seductive about the ocean. How, the two of them, both so intense and powerfully connected to their jobs, let go of all the lingering stress and anxiety so easily and quickly was remarkable. Lying side by side on a blanket, their feet sifting through the soft, hot sand, the crash of the waves, the wind…it was beyond relaxing; it was cleansing.

For Danny, it was also a chance to think. It was easy to ignore everything that was bothering him for a while. All his life he'd been good at hiding his problems and keeping his true feelings to himself. Now was no different. The difference now was that he hated doing it. In all honesty, he could no longer try to convince himself that it was a survival mechanism of sorts, and he wanted to share everything with Martin. It was just so hard to take that first step, to admit what he'd been through in more than a clinical sort of recount.

Worst of all, he knew it was starting to hurt the other man, and it made his heart ache every time he watched that hurt flash brightly in Martin's blue eyes, every time he felt him pull away just a little bit. A prime example being the night before.

They had gone out for dinner to a Mexican restaurant…a tourist hotspot from the looks of it. Good enough food and a minimalist sort of atmosphere; nice in all respects except that no self-respecting native to Miami would've been caught dead inside. Danny remembered well several spots that would've served better food for less money, but he couldn't bring himself to make the suggestion.

Afterwards they'd gone back to the beach, unable to stay away for too long. The moon was almost full and bright in the otherwise dark sky. They had walked for a while, away from the more populated areas to a quieter stretch of sand and palm trees. Sitting there, under the moonlight, it hadn't taken long before Danny had found himself tangled up in Martin's arms, his mouth hot against his skin, his lips. Martin had laughed when Danny smirked, pulling him down into the sand, the two of them breathless and eager, making out like teenagers who had snuck away from their parents' condos for the night.

Danny kept waiting for Martin to protest. To point out that anyone could walk by and see them or even that it was going to take forever to get all of the sand out of their hair and clothes. But he hadn't protested; in fact he had instigated the whole thing and seemed content to lie in the sand with their arms around each other, talking and sharing the occasional kiss. Again Danny wondered if Martin's easygoing, seemingly carefree attitude had more to do with the vacation or with their relationship or maybe a mixture of the two.

"Did you come to the beach a lot when you lived here?"

That was the question that had changed things, shifting their soft, easy night into something uncomfortable. And it shouldn't have. It was a simple enough question, one that Danny could've answered honestly. He could've told Martin that he remembered a few occasions, when he was young, when his mother had brought Rafi and him to the beach. That it was an escape from the oppressive heat and routine walks to the playground of their neighborhood. It hadn't been often, as his mother had to work most days leaving the two of them home by themselves in the summer – on the days their father hadn't stayed home from work because he was too hung over to get out of bed. But occasionally their father would be safely at his job and their mother had a day off.

She'd pack them sandwiches and cans of soda, piling it into a bag along with some towels, a baseball and a hand-me-down paperback novel for herself. They'd take the half-hour bus ride to Miami Beach, walking the rest of the way to where the beach had public access – away from the stretches of sand reserved solely for hotels and their guests. They'd spend the day under the sun, swimming and playing catch while their mother read, occasionally taking a break to join them in the waves. Danny would bring her seashells, which she always took gratefully from his hands, smiling warmly and assuring him that each one was the most beautiful shell she'd ever seen.

They were happy memories, and for some reason Danny found them even more difficult to share than the bad ones. So instead he'd shaken his head, eyes focused steadily on the moonlight reflecting off the water.

"No, not often. We weren't exactly a beach going sort of family," he replied bitterly, his words clipped and abrupt. He knew that he was being unfair, but he couldn't seem to stop. "When I got older I came sometimes with my friends but mostly we hung out closer to home." Which is only about 30 minutes away, he'd failed to add. He felt Martin pull away just slightly then, felt the easy and unexpected closeness they'd been sharing morph into something awkward and distant and he hated it.

When Martin had sat up and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, Danny watched him carefully and felt his chest constrict. Swallowing hard over the sudden lump in his throat, he sat up as well and slid his arm around the other man's waist, leaning closer and resting his chin on Martin's shoulder.

"Fitz," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to sensitive skin just below Martin's ear. "I'm sorry," he added softly, hoping that it didn't sound too forced.

Martin's body stiffened, and although he didn't quite pull away, Danny could sense that he was no longer comfortable. He was hurt. And Danny could understand that. Their eyes met as Martin turned, his blue eyes filled with a resigned sort of sadness. "Danny…"

Danny nodded, waiting, almost wishing that Martin would berate him for holding back, for continuing to keep things from him. Instead, Martin sighed, pulling away from Danny's touch and standing up. "I think I'm going to head back to the hotel," he said softly. "I'm all sandy…should probably take a shower." He paused, waiting it seemed for Danny to stand up as well.

Instead Danny only murmured his assent and stayed seated in the sand, his arms around his knees. "I'll be back in a little bit; I want to stay out here for a while longer."

Martin didn't say a word as he walked away. He might have nodded in response, but Danny had been too much of a coward to look up and meet his eyes. He turned after a few moments, eyes straining against the darkness to watch Martin's form walking slowly back in the direction of the hotel.

"Fuck," Danny swore, his body tense now. His hand closed over a nearby seashell and he hurled it into the waves before running his hands through his hair in frustration and anger. He wanted to go after Martin, to catch him before he made it back to the hotel and wrap his arms around him. He wanted to hold the other man tightly against him and whisper his apologies against his mouth. But he wasn't sure how to do that now without it sounding forced or fake.

When he went back to the hotel later – he wasn't sure how much time had passed – Martin was already asleep, curled close to the very edge of the king-sized bed, as if he were protecting himself from giving away too much.

Closed off now. Upset.

Danny blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and stripped down to his boxer shorts, climbing into bed next to Martin and reaching for him before he could stop himself. But Martin stayed asleep as Danny wrapped his arms around the other man, settling him back against his chest and holding onto him tightly.


Without a word about the previous night's events, they'd gone to the beach again in the morning. It seemed easier – for both of them – to pretend that there wasn't a wall between them, a distance that seemed impossible to cross. No, it was easier to lie in the sand next to each other and talk about things that were unimportant. It was easier to laugh and run into the ocean, allowing the salty water to bring out the playful side in each of them.

But there was a restless humming in Danny that was continually growing stronger. He knew he couldn't ignore it forever and he knew exactly what it wanted. It wanted him to visit his old neighborhood, to torture himself with the past, to show him that no matter where he went or how many times he changed his name he would always be from there.

However, despite his growing need, he knew it was a bad thought from the start. They had finally decided to leave the beach and head back to the hotel. Martin was hungry and rather than wait for Danny to shower and change he suggested he go out for takeout, come back and they could just eat on their balcony. Danny had agreed without a second thought, smiling as Martin kissed him and then left. It was only a few seconds later that he'd grabbed his wallet and his keycard and left the room as well.

He took their rental car – as Martin had decided to walk – and drove quickly, recklessly, swerving through the streets of Miami and further inland to where the tourist spots disappeared. He swallowed hard, knuckles nearly white as they gripped the steering wheel. He hated the memories that surfaced with every turn he made, and by the time he'd stopped the car outside of his old apartment building, he wanted to hurt someone or something. Badly.

He couldn't even bring himself to get out of the car, was loathe to have his feet touch the same crumbling sidewalk that he'd walked and ran on years earlier. But he sat there in his car, hands still clenched tightly to the steering wheel, and he stared up at the building he'd grown up in. Stared at it until his eyes stung, until he was certain it was burned into his memory – as if it already wasn't.

By the time he made it back to the hotel he knew he'd made a mistake. He felt worse now instead of better, and he'd been gone longer than he had expected. A glance to his phone – which he'd silenced for the ride out – showed several missed calls from Martin. When he pulled into the garage beneath the building, he put the car in park and turned off the engine…and started to cry. Again, he heard his cell phone ring, and he fumbled with it quickly to silence the sound, throwing it back down on the passenger seat before he could throw it out the window. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, cursing his own stupidity and selfishness, wondering why he felt this senseless need to torture himself and live in the past when he had a present that was so worth living for.

When he opened the door to the room, he nearly ran into Martin who appeared to be in a frantic rush to leave. His eyes widened and he threw down his wallet and cell phone, taking a small step backwards as Danny shut the door. Worry was etched painfully all over his face.

"Did you already eat?" Danny asked.

Martin's eyes changed instantaneously, going from a wide-eyed worry and surprise to something darker. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and Danny found himself hoping – for just a quick second – that Martin would hit him. The other man was trembling with anger and when Danny took a tentative step forward, Martin shook his head abruptly and turned away.

"Fuck you Danny," he said softly, his voice quiet and calm. Dangerous.

Danny stayed where he was, watching Martin go out onto the balcony and shut the sliding glass door behind him. He sat down in one of the deck chairs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he looked out at the ocean. Glancing to Martin's left, Danny saw the dinner he'd set out – Chinese takeout – the bottles of Coke, the napkins, straws and chopsticks. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

How was he supposed to explain this away? He'd left without a word, without a note or anything. Had just up and disappeared for a good two hours, coming back looking like hell and pretending nothing was wrong. And lingering there in between the worry and the anger, he had glimpsed what Martin had so quickly tried to hide. The hurt. The painful reminder that Danny didn't really share the important aspects of his life with him. That he wouldn't confide in him. And Danny hated himself for it.

He couldn't say how much time passed before Martin came back inside, but he hadn't moved from his spot on the bed. He certainly wasn't expecting Martin to drop to his knees on the floor in front of him and wrap his arms around his waist. When Martin looked up at him with pleading eyes, Danny felt himself tremble and it took everything he had not to look away.

"You've been crying," Martin said softly, his voice flat.

Danny shook his head.

Hurt flashed again in those blue eyes, deep and wounded. Martin reached up to touch his face, fingers soft despite the anger Danny knew was still lingering beneath the surface because he knew Danny was lying to him.

"Tell me," Martin pleaded. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me where you went and why you came back so upset…please Danny."

Martin's voice was hoarse, trembling, his eyes full of worry and desperation. Danny felt his heart break. He opened his mouth, only to close it without a word. He looked away, shame, anger and guilt running through him harshly. Looking back at Martin, he shook his head.

Martin's eyes clouded, tears forming as anger and frustration burned brightly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and turned to walk away, but Danny caught his arm, pulling him down onto the bed before he could even think about what he was doing. He needed Martin. Now more than ever. Even though he'd just hurt him…again.

Danny pressed their mouths together and he felt Martin push at his chest, fighting him, resisting for only a few seconds before giving in to the harsh, demanding kisses. Martin's skin was so warm; Danny's hands greedy as he shed the other man of his clothing. He yanked him closer, breath harsh, lips hungry as he mapped out trails of licks, bites and kisses over his body. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew that Martin did too, which made him unable to meet the other man's eyes. He wished he could turn off the lights and plunge them into a comforting, protective darkness; but turning off the lights required getting up and Danny was certain that things would end if he let Martin go.

He was using him. Using Martin to quiet his heartache and desperation. Using Martin because he couldn't bear to go on keeping things from him yet he didn't know how to tell the truth.

"Danny…" Martin cried out sharply as Danny took him into his mouth. His back arched up off the bed as he pressed his head into the pillow, his eyes closing. Danny watched him for only a few moments, too afraid for the moment when Martin's eyes opened and their gazes met. He didn't want that; he felt too ashamed already. He dug his fingers into Martin's hips and sucked him harder, deeper, knowing exactly what to do to bring him closer to the edge. It was when he pushed a finger inside of him that Martin shuddered, coming in Danny's mouth, his moans deep and full of pleasure.

"I want you," Danny gasped, pulling off the rest of his clothes and settling himself between Martin's legs.

Martin nodded. "Yes," he whispered, eyes still closed, body flushed. He lifted a hand, reaching out for Danny, but Danny didn't respond the way he knew Martin wanted him to. He wanted to pull him close, to kiss him, move against him until they were both hot and hard and ready for more. But Danny took Martin's hand instead, squeezing it tightly for a moment as he stroked himself a few times with the other, coating his cock with the remaining results of Martin's orgasm as well as his own arousal as best he could.

And he'd thought about this before – the first time they'd have unprotected sex – but he'd never imagined it in this situation. Their eyes met, Martin's a mixture of surprise, pleasure and pain. Danny shuddered, unsure if it was due more to the powerfully tight heat of Martin's body or how awful he knew he was going to feel when this was over. Sex between the two of them had always been – even from the first time – a point of connection, a way to bond when words failed them. But this was decidedly different. And unhealthy. It was hard, fast and painfully detached.

Danny moaned when Martin drew his knees back, wrapping his arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, encouraging him deeper. And he did just that, slipping his arms under Martin's back and pulling him up to meet him, dropping his head to press his lips to the other man's chest and throat. He could no longer bear to look him in the eyes. And although he knew instinctively that everything would soften if they kissed, he purposely avoided it, because he knew it had the power to cause them both to fall apart. All he wanted now was release.

He cried out sharply and swore as he came, overwhelmed by how intense his orgasm was, how it caused him to shake and nearly collapse on top of Martin. When he heard Martin's whimpered moan, he reached between their bodies, feeling the other man's hardened length against his stomach. It only took a few flicks of his wrist, thumbing the tip with every stroke, until Martin came for the second time that night, his cries echoing harshly in Danny's ears.

He pulled out of Martin slowly, cursing himself when the other man winced. He got up after a few moments, feeling unsteady on his feet. When he went into the bathroom for a towel he caught sight of himself in the mirror and nearly put his fist through the glass he felt so disgusted. Quickly, he turned off the lights, feeling slightly relieved once he was surrounded by the encompassing darkness.

It wasn't a surprise, but it hurt like hell to see Martin once again curled up near the edge of the bed, his back turned to Danny, his hands tucked safely beneath his pillow. Apparently he'd already cleaned himself off with his previously discarded boxers, which had been tossed onto the floor.

There was only a small glow from the moon tonight; it stayed hidden for the most part behind the clouds, peeking out only occasionally and shining into the windows that they'd failed to cover with the curtains. When that light danced briefly over Martin's skin, Danny couldn't resist, shifting closer to him in the large bed and wrapping his arms around him as he pressed up against his back. He kissed his neck and his shoulder, his hands pressing tightly against his chest and stomach. Martin shuddered and sighed softly, a sound that felt more like a sob than the normal contented noises Martin normally made after sex.

"I'm sorry baby," Danny whispered. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Over and over he whispered the words, punctuating each of them with a small kiss to his skin. He held him tighter when he felt Martin's body melt back into his, when he heard his shuddering intake of breath and knew that he was crying.

Exhausted, Martin fell asleep a little while later, but Danny knew he probably wouldn't sleep at all. He'd planned their vacation in the hopes of their getting closer and furthering their relationship. But all he'd done was successfully push Martin away. And after tonight he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get him back.