Title: Ties, Aneurysm Faces And, God Forbid, Feelings

Author: thewhiterose3

Pairing: Danny/Steve, slash

Disclaimer: Not mine. I only wish they were.

Rating: T, for language. Rating may go up in the future, depending on how daring I am.

A/N: To give credit where credit is due, I was reading leupagus' (amazing) Worth the While and she made Steve say "You love me" (in a completely different yet beautiful context) and my brain just kind of went from there.

"I hate you, so much."

"You love me."

"You're just figuring this out now, moron?"

And something in the way Danny says it just makes Steve's world grind to a sudden halt. Like its one of the truths that Danny bases his world around: the sun comes up in the morning, he doesn't get to spend nearly enough time with Grace, fruit should never go on pizza ever, and he loves Steve McGarrett.

Steve realizes that his body stopped with his world when Danny turns around, half a dozen steps ahead and it seems, still talking.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation? We're going to be late for our meeting with the governor. And I know you can just swagger into a room and make three quarters of the population forget what they were doing, but some of us like to show at least a modicum of decorum once in a while."

Danny's got his hands on his hips, except when he unconsciously straightens his tie on the word decorum. He just looks so thoroughly exasperated and his words are much too big and the tie, fuck. The image is just so fucking Danny that Steve has a sudden almost uncontrollable urge to push him up against the nearest wall and ravish him until words like ergo and modicum are no longer in his vocabulary at all. Until all that indignation is replaced by little whimpering noises in the back of his throat when Steve tongues his adams apple. Well, maybe not all because Steve can't really imagine Danny without the bickering and the constant almost affectionate indignation at Steve's mere existence.

And that's when it hits him again, like a punch to the gut. All of these images of Danny and how every single memory, every single argument comes down to the fact that Danny cares. Cares more about his general well being than anyone, probably since his mother. And true, Danny's a lot more crass about it and his caring is peppered with right hooks to Steve's jaw, but its still there. Danny loves him, and fuck if Steve knows what to do with that.

And that's when Steve opens his eyes to find that maybe that punch to the gut wasn't solely metaphorical because he's doubled over, hands on his knees and quite possibly breathing a little more heavily than walking down the hall of their HQ calls for. Danny's still looking at him like he's lost his mind, which is really his normal expression when it comes to Steve, except for the undisguised worry overshadowing it. The worry that could possibly stem from the fact that Steve looks more winded right now than the last time he had to run down a perp who was also some sort of pro athlete.

"Steve, buddy? What the hell?" is all Danny gets out before Steve rights himself and goes for plan a, pretending his brain didn't just have an emergency shut down and reboot as it caught up with the knowledge that the most stable person in his life loves him and that instead of wariness, his reaction was the warm fuzzies and crap, he just imagined making out with Danny, too. Shit.

Cocky expression firmly in place, Steve replays the last bit of the conversation looking for something to latch onto. He needs to distract Danny and wipe that oh so fucking distracting worry and caring off his face before Steve does something stupid like act on it.

"Three quarters of the population, huh? I knew I was good, but I never knew I was that good."

And Steve's pretty impressed at how normal that sounded when his heart still feels like its about to break out of his chest. Steve starts walking again, passing where Danny seems to have his own version of aneurysm face, questioning if the image of Steve suddenly and inexplicably hyperventilating in the hallway was just a figment of his imagination. When Steve gets another dozen steps past him and Danny still hasn't moved except for turning slightly and giving Steve the stink eye, Steve feels the need to crack the tension and move on before the questions start.

"Who has aneurysm face, now? Get a move on, or is Jersey Boy gonna start working on island time?"

At the mention of time and the likelihood of compromising his standards in lieu of how this ass-backward island does things, Danny seems to wake up from his inner critique of Steve's insanity and start walking again. And in a very un-Danny-like moment, he doesn't mention whatever the hell just happened. Danny just gives Steve a look that says, very clearly, "I know very well that you're shitting me right now and if we didn't have an appointment, we'd discuss this right fucking now, but just know that you are oh so not off the hook, asshat." And Steve's a little impressed both that Danny is capable of not screaming everything that pops into his head and that he can portray that complex of a sentence with only a glare.

"Just not right now, Danno."

His voice is too quiet, too sincere, and laced with an edge of desperation that Steve doesn't even recognize and totally didn't intend. And Steve can't find it in himself to look Danny in the eye anymore, choosing instead to find a spot just above his head infinitely fascinating.

But he and Danny are nothing if not in sync, and so Danny just gives him another assessing almost glare that could write a fucking novel and they start walking toward the parking lot and talking again. Or, more accurately, Danny talks.

"Tonight then, idiot. But I'm driving. And if we end up in another impromptu gunfight and you can't outrun the perp or I get shot again because of whatever stupid shit is wrong with you, then you will fucking regret it. Because once we make sure that you're not fucking dead, then I'm going to beat the shit out of you and then I'm going to get Chin to beat the shit out of you and then Kono. And if you still don't believe that even your superhuman SEAL body has limits, then I will get the kung-fu cousins to tag-team beat the shit out of you until you find the unholy urge to remember that sometimes its okay to fucking stop when something is wrong with you."

And Steve's so relieved that he doesn't have to realign his world right fucking now, that he doesn't even argue about who's driving or the fact that he only has a few hours before he has to actually, god forbid, talk about his feelings. He just smiles and lets himself be engulfed as Danny's tirade gets sidetracked by how BAMF the other half of their team is and how not even psycho Steve on a mission is anywhere near a match for their combined powers.