Fandom: Hawaii Five-0

Pairing: Steve & Danny

Rating: R

Warning: None

Summary: Danny lets a recuperating Steve choose the movie, with unexpected results.

PURGE NIGHT

by

Candy Apple

Steve scooped another handful of popcorn out of the bucket Danny was holding and also digging into from time to time. They'd debated which movie to see that Saturday afternoon, the choices being a special effects-laden epic about killer tornados called Into the Storm or the one they were watching now, The Purge: Anarchy. It was a sequel; they'd seen the first one when it came out, and while Danny hadn't much cared for it - he said he thought the premise was stupid - he'd gone along with Steve's interest in seeing the sequel.

"Come on, think about it a minute. A government-sanctioned night where all crime is legal and people go out in the streets and murder, rape, and pillage for twelve hours once a year? And this one night of unbridled mayhem magically reduces unemployment and the crime rate? Of course, the stats don't include the one night a year everybody goes out and murders each other. How fucking off-the-charts unrealistic is that? I'll tell you. I could more easily believe in talking donkeys and green gnomes or whatever the hell Shrek is, that's how ridiculous it is. Grace watches more believable stuff than this."

"Talking jack asses are real," Steve had mumbled under his breath as he drove them away from the theater. Which had, of course, started another round of bickering when Danny heard him.

Danny had ranted most of the way to the first movie, rolled his eyes multiple times while they watched it, and spent a good part of the ride home elaborating on all the things he found ridiculous or unbelievable.

Steve shifted in his seat. The pain from the bullet hole in his side was almost less painful than listening to all that bitching. It was a good bet the reason he'd gotten to choose the sequel to that movie now and there had been a blessed silence about the absurdity of it was thanks to that wound. A few days ago, they'd gotten in the middle of a car jacking unexpectedly. One minute, they'd been rolling along talking about where to go for lunch and then they'd turned a corner down a low-traffic street where two perps were stealing a woman's car.

There wasn't time to stop and put on vests. The victim was resisting, apparently considering her Lexus worth dying for, the situation was escalating, and they had to just pull up on it and act. Announcing themselves and drawing on the two young Asian men hadn't achieved anything but making them open fire. Despite returning fire, Steve had felt the searing pain in his side as he fell, heard Danny's panicked shout of his name, and wasn't even surprised by the hail of bullets that erupted from his partner as he unloaded multiple slugs into the man who had shot Steve, and spared a couple to disable his accomplice. Danny had given up cover for himself or any position of safety. He'd banked on the inability of the shooters to hit what they were aiming for and that the bullet that hit Steve was a lucky shot.

Fortunately, he'd been right. In the HPD, IA probably would have been all over him for that Rambo-style take down, but Five-0's elite status, which included full immunity and means, had protected him from that.

Once the shooting had stopped, all that was left was the victim screaming and babbling into her phone at 9-1-1 until Danny shouted at her his badge number and the panicked words "officer down" and "tell 'em it's McGarrett from Five-0!" Then Danny had been there pressing his hands against the wound that, thankfully, looked worse than it was, and telling him to hang in there. Steve wondered if more emergency vehicles could have arrived faster if a major dignitary had been assassinated.

The wound that launched all that mayhem didn't even require a night in the hospital; of course, Steve had refused that anyway. Danny had stayed with him, enforced the doctor's orders and regularly changed his bandage and generally fussed over him like he was in ICU, not just recovering from an in-and-out flesh wound.

So here they were, the first outing Danny had allowed him since the shooting, watching a movie Danny probably didn't care about seeing.

"Are you hating this as much as the first one?" Steve asked him in a whisper. Danny smiled at that, taking another scoop of popcorn out of the bucket.

"This one's a little better," he replied, tilting the popcorn bucket toward Steve, who took more out of it, chuckling at the response.

"You're only being nice to me because I got shot."

"Don't get used to it. Next time, I pick the movie."

It was nice sitting there shoulder to shoulder in the theater, joking around, sharing the popcorn. Steve couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be sharing the moment with. He knew fairly soon after he'd been shot that it wasn't critical, but it had still made him do some thinking. It was the second time in the last few months he'd looked death in the eye, and lived to tell. First in Afghanistan, and then unexpectedly in the middle of a low-level crime. That would have been the ultimate irony. Survive being kidnaped by the Taliban and then die at the hands of a couple of Yakuza wannabes on the streets of Honolulu.

He couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather be with besides Danny to do most anything. The way Danny had shown up in fucking Afghanistan just to be with him, and the way he'd taken care of him the last few days... He stole another look at Danny's profile as he watched the movie, and wondered if maybe his partner felt the same way.

He turned his attention back to the bedraggled group of people who'd found themselves unwittingly trapped without safe cover on "purge night", relaxing into the escapist nonsense of the movie. It was ridiculous, but it was exciting. Danny was right, the sequel was better than the original.

"He reminds me of you," Danny said of the movie's hero, a tall, dark-haired guy who knew his way around weapons and taking down bad guys.

"Is that a compliment?" Steve asked.

"He's as crazy as you are in taking on situations he has no chance of surviving and does anyway."

"Thanks, I think." Steve laughed, and Danny smiled.

The little group of people in peril in the movie were huddled together, seeking cover from more heavily armed would-be assassins. Among them was a young couple who had been planning to separate as the movie began. Over the course of their horrible adventure, it had become clear they were going to make another go of it. As their prospects for escaping alive became slimmer, the young woman turned to her husband and said, "I need you to know that I love you." And, as she got the words out, there was more gunfire. Bullets ripped into her husband, blood sprayed, and he was dead next to her. One second they were having a beautiful moment together and the next, he was dead in her arms.

Steve found himself jerking just a bit in his seat at the shots, and he felt Danny move next to him, heard his indrawn breath. He wasn't alone. Most of the other people in the theater had jumped a bit in their seats.

What he didn't expect was for Danny to shove the popcorn at him and get up and leave the theater. Steve sat there a moment, thinking maybe the large drink Danny had been sipping on had suddenly hit bottom. Still, the movie was almost over, and the way he'd fled without a word was weird. Finally deciding something wasn't right, Steve got up and headed for the exit, tossing the popcorn in the trash on the way out. He stuck his head in the men's room. There was no sign of Danny at the sinks or the urinals.

"Danny? You in here?" he called out, risking Danny emerging from a stall and teasing him mercilessly for years for having tracked him to the men's room. There was no reply, just a couple odd looks from the other guys who were in there.

He walked out into the lobby, but there was no sign of Danny there, either. Getting worried, he headed for the parking lot. Finally, he found Danny there, sitting against the hood of the Camaro, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. Steve thought he looked kind of pale.

"Danny? Are you okay? What happened in there?"

"I just needed some air. Is the movie over already?"

"No, it wasn't when I left."

"You better get back in there."

"Screw the movie. What's wrong with you?"

"Probably just something I ate. If you're not going back in, do you want to head home?"

"Sure. You want me to drive?"

"No, I'm good, and you're still recuperating."

"I'm doing fine, buddy. I can drive."

"Maybe tomorrow. Humor me," he added.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Steve joked, and Danny smiled faintly, but it was strained.

"Sorry I messed up the movie for you," Danny said as they drove toward Steve's house.

"Don't worry about it. It'll be out on DVD before the suspense kills me."

"How's your side?"

"It's okay. A little sore."

"I'll change the bandage when we get back to your place, make sure it's okay. I think it's healing well."

"I've had good care," Steve said, glancing at Danny with a little smile.

"If this cop gig doesn't work out, I can try nursing."

Steve sat there quietly on the side of the bed while Danny changed his bandages. There were actually two wounds, an entry and exit. If Steve were being honest, they did hurt like hell, and twisting around to change the bandages himself would have aggravated them every time.

They'd changed into t-shirts and shorts. Danny finally had a reasonable collection of those garments, and Steve felt more relaxed when Danny looked more relaxed. His partner took high-strung to a new level; Steve was never sure if Danny ever truly relaxed. They had talked about having a light supper outdoors, just some sandwiches and chips and whatever else Steve's kitchen might yield, and he found himself looking forward to it. He was going to miss Danny when he went back to his own place. His thoughts returned to the odd behavior at the theater, and he tried probing his partner again for an answer.

"Do you wanna tell me now what was really going on with you at the theater?" Steve asked. Danny quietly cleaned up the supplies, ignoring his question.

"The wound looks really good. No sign of infection, which was the big thing the doctor told us to watch for."

"You didn't answer my question," Steve persisted. Danny sat next to him on the bed, once he had everything tidied up to his satisfaction.

"Nothing happened. I told you, I just needed some air. I'm fine now."

"No, you're not. And I don't think you're sick, either."

"No, I'm not sick. I guess when we spend all day getting shot at, watching a bunch of people getting shot at didn't do it for me for entertainment."

"You like action movies."

"I didn't like that one."

"Talk to me, Danno," he tried again, touching Danny's back, letting his hand rest there. There was something deeply painful in Danny's voice and the slump of his shoulders.

"I guess it just hit too close to home."

Steve moved his hand so he had his arm around Danny's shoulders.

"That was such a freak incident, Danny," he said softly. "Wouldn't happen that way again in a million years."

"It only takes once." He blinked, and his breath seemed a little shaky. "At least she got to say the words, just barely."

So that was it. You bicker with each other, let days, weeks, months even, go by without saying the words, and then there it is, somebody's dead, and you can't say them anymore. Steve moved closer, pulling Danny into a hug.

"We've said the words, buddy. If something happened to me, I'd know how you felt. And I'd hope you knew how I felt, even if we didn't say it at that moment."

"You don't know how I feel, and if you did...you wouldn't want to hear it."

"I don't understand." Steve moved back, frowning.

"I know you don't, and I didn't want you to, because I didn't want you to...want a new partner."

"What in the hell could you possibly say or do that would make me feel that way? Short of shooting me yourself, I can't think of much."

"I've got one for you." Danny stood up and faced him. "How about that I love you, but not like a buddy, not like a cop partner...I just fucking love you and sometimes I watch you talk and watch your mouth and wonder what it would be like to kiss you and when you hug me, I don't wanna let go and sometimes I think about what it would be like to hug you with no clothes on. Because I want to be the one you look at that way and that you want that way because when I say 'I love you', that's what I mean. And when you got shot, and your blood was all over my hands, and I wasn't sure how bad it was, I could'a said I love you a hundred times and you wouldn't have known how much I do, or how. And if you had, you'd have been done with me for good."

Steve stared at Danny a few seconds, floored as much by the anguish and passion in the words as he was by the meaning of them. Snapping out of the momentary surprise, he stood, and it broke his heart that Danny actually took a step back, as if he were expecting some hostile, maybe violent response.

"Shows what you know," he said, keeping his tone gentle on the teasing words. He nudged Danny's chin, tilting his head up and leaned in for a kiss, pulling Danny into his arms, easing his tongue in, turning it into the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt what it meant, or where it was headed. He felt Danny's arms go around him, his mouth opening and responding. When they parted, Danny wasn't looking him in the eyes. His forehead was somewhere near Steve's chin, and his hands came to rest on Steve's hips.

"Please just tell me that wasn't a joke," he said.

"Did it feel like a joke to you?" Steve asked, a little angry at the question, but he cooled off quickly when he realized there was more fear than challenge in Danny's words. "No, Danno, it wasn't a joke," he said affectionately, pulling Danny into his arms and holding on tight. "Is this what you want? Because it feels pretty perfect to me."

"Yeah, I want you," he said, pulling back a bit, and this time, he started the kiss and there was nothing hesitant about it. Steve had to do a couple quick steps to stay on his feet, because Danny wasn't playing anymore. Their kisses were heated and passionate and urgent, playing out all the desires that had been held in check so long.

Danny moved back and pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it aside. Then he dispensed with shorts and underwear in a single swift gesture. He was barefoot anyway, and now he was naked.

"Come on, Steven, you're falling behind."

Never a man to let a challenge like that go unanswered, he pulled his own t-shirt over his head and got rid of his shorts and underwear just as fast.

"Lie down, babe," Danny said.

"You taking charge of things?" he asked, smiling.

"No, but if you don't, I'm gonna shove you down on the bed, and I'm afraid that might hurt your side."

"Really?"

"Really."

Steve stretched out on the bed and Danny didn't lose any time lying down next to him. He was careful to make sure Steve was on his good side and that their eager caresses and urgent efforts to get close didn't put any painful pressure on Steve's wound.

"I like your idea," Steve said, in a rare moment when his mouth wasn't being consumed by Danny's.

"Any one in particular?"

"The hugging with no clothes on."

"You need to listen to me more. I have good ideas."

"I have an idea."

"Name it," Danny said, then went back to kissing Steve's neck and his collarbone, moving down to his chest.

"Don't go back to your place. Move in with me."

"You mean it?" Danny paused what he was doing to look into Steve's eyes. "People are gonna notice."

"We'll figure all of that out later. I just know I don't want to live alone here anymore. I want to wake up in the morning next to someone I love."

"Fortunately, I'm available for an extended period of time."

"I guess I picked a good movie after all."

"Once in a while, you make a good choice."

"Once in a while, huh? Gee, thanks pal."

"You picked me, remember?"

"I did do that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." Danny turned his attention back to Steve's chest, going to work on his nipple with lips and tongue. "Didn't give me much say in it, either."

"Any regrets?" Steve asked, though his ability to string his thoughts together was being sucked out through his nipple.

"Not a one, babe." Danny smiled at him and kissed him again. "Well, maybe that we waited so long to do this."

"Better late than never."