AU: Danny’s dad has a heart attack and Steve doesn’t listen.
Danny woke up the next morning to the sound of a shovel scrapping against the pavement. It wasn’t an unusual sound to hear in Jersey—in fact it was welcoming—but the alarm clock on his left said it was still only 730 AM and no way in hell would any of his family members be up to move the snow off their walkway. The only other person who would do this besides for himself would be his father. The thought makes his eyes sting with tears he’s been fighting since the phone call yesterday morning. God, was it really just yesterday that Andie called him? It seemed so long ago that he was sitting in his office in Hawaii and now here he was, lying in his childhood bed in his parents’ house in Jersey.
Even in privacy, Danny refused to cry. He needs to be the man in charge now more than ever. His mom needs him to keep them on their feet and keep everyone sane. He’s not sure how he’s going to manage that when he feels like jelly himself, but he has to.
With a groan, he stretched his arms and legs to shake off the stiffness of sleep. His bed was never comfortable; much too stiff except for the lump just at the knee from when him and Matty got in a fight and split grape juice on the bed. It bleed threw the blankets, onto the mattress and stained before they could stop it. Of course, Matty tried with all his might to get the stain out. He used every combination his little seven year old brain could think of before he finally decided to cut that part of the mattress out and cover it with the sheets again. Their mom found out the next night when she went to put her hand down to support herself and it slipped right through the sheets. The bed has never been the same and Danny loves the home-repaired lump.
His back popped in a few places, reminding him that he is in fact not sixteen anymore and despite what everyone has joked about he has grown since his youth. Danny rolls himself off of the bed and wiggles his feet against the cold wood floors. That’s one thing he does not miss about Jersey; first thing in the morning, you’re fighting against frostbite from your own floor.
He shuffles way to the window. It stopped snowing, miraculously, but there’s a good seven inches on the ground. Through the fog on the window, he can see someone shoveling the walkway with great determination. The whole trail is cleared, but they keep going over to make sure it’s perfectly paved. At first, Danny assumes it’s a helpful neighbor. The man who lives next door to them often runs out when he sees Clare struggling with too many grocery bags, or when it’s fall and there are too many leaves for her to handle. Pops is good with that stuff too, but he was at the station a lot at that point. Now that he’s retired, he steps up instantly to woo his wife again.
It takes a few blinks for Danny’s eyes to focus, but he could swear that person is Steve. Only that would be crazy; Steve is in Hawaii. Steve could not be shoveling Danny’s parents’ walkway at 730 AM in only a thin coat and cargos. There’s no way. No.
The person shoveling that’s a moment to whip at their forehead. There neck cranes at just the right angle that Danny could make of their face from his bedroom window. He’s heart drops into his stomach when he sees that it is, in fact, Steve’s pink face he’s looking at. “Oh my god.”
The man is relentless. The man needs to learn when to take no for an answer. The man is…shoveling Danny’s parents’ walkway at 730 AM after a blizzard and his father had a heart attack in New Jersey.
Danny sniffs away the pressure building behind his eyes; he blames it on the cold and tries not to bolt out of the room and down the stairs. With his hands shoved into his sweat pant pockets, he takes the stairs one at a time and tries not to let his lip quiver too much.
Clare is standing by the front door, watching with a mug of coffee in both her hands. Her eyebrows are frowning, but from the twinkle in her eye, Danny knows she’s just as appreciative for Steve’s stubbornness as he is. She doesn’t look away from the screen door even when Danny mumbles a good morning and rubs her shoulder. “He arrived at 530. I tried getting him to rest, but he insisted on helping. He’s been going at that damn snow for two hours.”
Danny just nods. He knows if he tries talking, the lump in his throat will form bigger and he’ll end up crying like he fears. Instead he bits down on the inside of his bottom lip and takes the mug his mother holds out. She turns away from the door to walk into the kitchen, saying something about breakfast when something on his face must have caught her attention. She pauses in front of him, her own face loose with grief and worry, and rubs at the stubble against his cheek. She gives him a smile—it’s too sad for his liking but it’s the first real one he’s gotten since he arrived—and rubs the indent of his chin before smoothening out his jaw. “He’s a good one, Danny.”
“Hmm.”
Once she’s out of sight and he can hear her making busy work in the kitchen, he puts the coffee on the side table next to the couch and steps out into the biting air. He’s only in a t-shirt and loose sweats, not nearly enough to protect him from the cold but he doesn’t care. He just crosses his arms over his chest and squints through the gray sunlight towards his partner. Steve, who hasn’t noticed him yet, continues to stab at some ice on the pavement until it cracks and he can scrape it towards the boarder.
It’s not until the screen door shuts completely that Steve notices him standing there.
For a second, he doesn’t register its Danny. He looked up at the door, then back at the red shovel in his hands and looks back up so fast Danny could hear the pop of his neck. “Oh.”
Oh, Danny thinks as he bits his cheek. I catch the guy shoveling my walkway and ‘Oh’ he says.
“I uh, I got the trail done and most of the driveway but it started snowing again so I had to start over. And I found half a bag of salt in the garage but it’s only going to cover a quarter of driveway. I’ll go to the store and pick up a few bags after I’m done shoveling. I’m almost done getting this ice out of here; I don’t want your mom or sisters slipping cause they don’t notice the ice under a layer of ufh.” Steve didn’t have time to register that Danny was on the stairs one second and flinging himself in the air the next. He caught his partner by the arms before they could fall into the untouched snow. Danny was freezing, shaking against his chest—but that wasn’t from the snow, Steve realized when he felt something wet on his shoulder—and has never held onto him this tight before.
Once his mind snapped fully into place, Steve wrapped his arms around Danny’s back and held him close to his chest. He decided not to mention Danny crying softly into his shoulder. He knows he will talk when he’s ready. For now, he’ll just be here for Danny and rub between his shoulder blades and if he kisses at the hair just above his ear, well neither of them cares to make a deal of it right now.
“You’re in Jersey.” Danny mumbles into the crewneck. Steve shivers at his breath against his skin. Instead of speaking, he gives Danny’s cheek one last peck while he still can and nods. He wished they could stay like this forever. But of course, Danny has to ruin it. He steps back far enough to slap Steve’s arm hard enough that it stings. “You’re in freaking Jersey when I told you not to come here?”
“Why are you yelling at me?” Steve gaps. He thought this was a good thing. “Because you don’t listen to what you’re told!” of course, Danny’s over the moon that Steve didn’t listen but he’s not going to let this go that easy. Steve notices him bouncing on his heels and hugging his own chest before Danny realizes he’s doing it.
“Let’s get you inside, Danno; it’s too cold for you to be standing’ out here without shoes or a coat.” Steve, the fucking idiot, takes the thin jacket off of him and places it over Danny’s shoulders while trying to direct him towards the house.
“Me? Look at you! You’re in freakin’ cargo pants. Where’d you even get that jacket from anyway? It barely looks heavy enough to warm my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog, Danno.” “That is not true. We have a dog at home.” He might be mad—okay, not mad, but trying very hard to be—but his face hurts from the cooling tears and built pressure releasing and it’s a lot colder now that the shock of Steve’s arrival wore off. So he hugs the coat closer to his shoulders and let’s Steve steer him into the house.
Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that one, Danny referred to Jensen as ‘their’ dog, not Gracie’s, and two, that despite being in Jersey, he’s calling Hawaii home. Both warm his heart too much for him to handle, so he just…doesn’t.
“Let’s got you a fresh cup of coffee and some breakfast huh?” Steve suggests, rubbing Danny’s arms from behind him as they reach the steps. Danny suddenly freezes and turns around. He’s one step above Steve, making him just a few inches taller for once and is looking down at him with such heavy eyes it hurts.
“You came to Jersey, at 5am.” Danny whispers. His shaky breath fogs in the air and mixes with Steve’s when he sighs.
“530, actually.” “Steve,” his voice is firm, official, like when Danny means business. Steve looks up from his collar to see Danny’s eyes closed. His long eyelashes brush his too pink cheeks and Steve just wants to rub them with his thumb. “You took the red-eye to Jersey even though I told you not to.”
He doesn’t know why Danny is surprised of this. How could he not know Steve would come? When Danny opens his eyes, he looks utterly exhausted. All Steve could do is give him a soft smile and nod, before Danny leans his forehead closer until it rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around his partner’s waist and nuzzles the side of his head, “I will always come when you need me, Danno.”
Danny only gives himself another minute before he pushes away the emotions. Steve can physically see him shutting down in front of him and he hates it. No wonder Danny goes crazy when Steve does it practically every day. “Come on, Super Seal,” he says with as strong of a voice as he could master. He almost sounds like Danny again, but not quite yet, “You’ve been going at it for hours, Ma says, and I don’t care what excuses you’re gonna give me; you are coming upstairs and sleeping until sane people are supposed to be up.”
“But—” “What did I just say? I mean it, come on. ‘sides, you’re gonna be thanking me when Andie and Zoe wake up and you realize what at madhouse you brought yourself into. Trust me, no one should experience the Williams’ women without at least 5 hours of sleep in them. We’re lucky if we can squeeze in 3.”
We. Meaning Danny would be sleeping too. And though it wasn’t said, Steve knows Danny won’t want to sleep apart. It’s something they haven’t done before; not officially. Danny fell asleep beside Steve’s hospital bed after Wo Fat, his head resting by their linked hands and a killer back ache to great him in the morning. That didn’t stop him from doing it again when the next accident happened. And of course, Steve slept in the chair in the corner of Danny’s room after he got out of prison; but Danny thinks he slept on the couch in the living room.
No, they’ve never slept in the same bed before. Course Steve’s thought about it; wanted it. But it wasn’t something he thought would happen. He had a hotel room booked but Clare cancelled it the moment he walked in. He figured they’d stick him on the couch or something.
Danny’s leading Steve up the stairs by the hand; their palms are both sweating but neither mention it or pull away. Steve’s neck is burning at what’s about to happen, though he’s sure Danny’s too tired to even register it. Danny though is trying not to think about it because if he thinks about it, he’ll chicken out.
He almost stops them when they enter the bedroom and the two twin beds are visible in front of them. The logical, normal thing would be to stick Steve in his bed and Danny can sleep in Matt’s. But Danny can’t yet bring himself to sleep in that bed and subconsciously he just wants to curl up under his warm covers and tuck himself into Steve’s side. So that’s exactly what he plans to do; he abandon’s Steve’s hand and crawls back onto his bed. He’s got the covers over his legs and is about to pull them over his shoulder when he notices Steve just standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” “Danny,” Steve says slowly, like he’s talking to a spooked animal or young child. “Are you sure you want—I mean, I could take the couch or bunk on the floor if you—”
“Steve,” Danny shuts his eyes tight, “So far these have been two of the worst days of my life and that’s saying something with all we’ve gone through, and the next week won’t be any better. What I want is to blissfully avoid at least three hours of this hell and I want you in this bed while I do it.”
He’s fairly certain if he opens his eyes that he would see Steve standing there doe eyed and panicked. He’s right. Steve’s eyes have never been so round—not quite wide with shock but round and big like when Grace was told she’s getting a new bike and didn’t want to be too excited thinking they’d take it back or when Danny got shot on that horrible camping trip but she didn’t want to seem scared—and he keeps squeezing his hand into a fist but his fingers are too sweaty to grip a proper one.
Danny’s throat closes at the sight, his voice dropping just enough with want and desperation. “So you’ve got by the count of three to get in this bed or…” He doesn’t even need to count. Steve gives him a small, smile, just barely lifting the corner of his mouth as he slowly crosses the room and crawls by his knees and hands until he’s lined up with Danny on the bed. It’s too small for two grown men, despite Danny’s smaller size, but once the blankets are draped over both of them and Danny’s freezing toes are tucked under Steve’s leg and his head is resting on Steve’s bent arm and his hair tickles his collar bone, he doesn’t care. This bed could have been the length of the room and Steve would still want them to be in this exact position. He tightens his arms around Danny’s shoulders and waist and kisses his forehead. “Good choice.”
