Archive of Our Own

Danny woke up alone.

Drowsily reaching up, he smoothed his hand over the soft fabric of the pillow next to his own. Exploring downward, he found the other side of the bed rumpled but cold. Steve's warmth had already faded into the dawning morning.

He rubbed at his eyes, frowning sleepily. Waking up alone wasn't an uncommon occurrence. But he usually noticed on some level of consciousness when Steve got up. Some part of his brain registered him leaving, instinct making sure nothing was wrong, just old habits and too much early morning energy.

Today, though, Danny hadn't noticed. But that didn't really surprise him. It had been a weird night. Long, yet too short. Steve had been restless, tossing and turning, frustrated and clearly unable to sleep. He had kept Danny hovering on the edge as well, half asleep and half awake, stopping him from falling into a deeper state of sleep until the early stages of dawn… or so Danny thought he remembered.

His head was hazy mix of sleeplessness and half-remembered, disturbing dreams.

With a sigh that grew into a yawn, Danny forced himself to sit up. Throwing the covers aside, his gaze landed on the alarm clock on the bedside table. He all but shuddered at the early hour. It made him wonder if Steve had gotten any rest at all.

The Professor Thomas case had kept them busy until midnight. And even after they had gotten the drug-dealing idiot Alfie Tucker to confess, Steve had been reluctant to call it a day and go home.

The reason was probably still sitting on his desk right now. A thick file on Kaili Huikala, Nahele's father.

The way the man had decided to reenter his son's life had struck Danny as odd, lacking any sensitivity and intuition for what the kid needed from his father in the situation. Kaili Huikala had gotten out a prison a few weeks ago. He had been locked up for eight years – almost half the kid's life. And now, instead of seeking out his son to talk to him, to get to know him again after spending so much time apart, the first thing he had done was to file a petition for custody. It seemed like a strange thing to do. Out of order, reversed. Kaili Huikala seemed like a man trying to take back what he considered his, with no regard for what was best for Nahele.

In a way, maybe, Danny could understand. The day Rachel had told him that Charlie was his son, all Danny had wanted to do was take him home and not spend another minute without him. He had wanted to drag Rachel back to court and sue for custody, make damn sure she could not take his son away from him ever again.

But none of that would have been in Charlie's best interest. Charlie, his son who had barely known him at the time. They were still easing him into the idea that Danny was his father; Charlie still got confused sometimes.

Nahele's situation was different, though. He was older, knew his father. And that was part of the problem, because he also knew his father had been in prison for committing multiple robberies. Not exactly a role model. The trust between father and son had to be rebuilt, some form of relationship or just basic connection had to be established before anyone should even be thinking about taking the kid out of his current, carefully crafted, safe environment.

That was how Danny saw it, anyway. No guarantee a judge would agree.

Stretching stiff shoulder muscles, Danny got up and grabbed the discarded t-shirt Steve had worn to bed last night and pulled it on. The cotton was soft and worn, it smelled like Steve and Danny got the urge to crawl back into bed, curl up under the covers and sleep a little longer, ignore the rest of the world for just a few more minutes.

Steve, no doubt, was out for a swim and would come back to the bedroom sooner or later, if just to get a shower and get dressed. Maybe Danny could convince him to come back to bed then instead. Maybe they could both get some more, much needed sleep. Screw the paperwork on the Thomas case. It would still be there in the afternoon. No one was going to be in early today, anyway. Not after the late night they'd all had.

It was a nice, tempting fantasy. Danny knew there was no way he would be able to get Steve back into bed this morning. Not when there was the stupid file on Nahele's father beckoning him back to the Palace.

And Danny couldn't blame him. There was a lot at stake here.

There was something in Nahele's reaction to the situation that worried Steve. He had told Danny yesterday that he felt like there was something Nahele wasn't telling him. Something Steve was hoping to find in that file. Something that had kept him up all night…

Danny suddenly felt the urgent need to be closer to Steve. Make sure with his own two eyes that he was okay.

So, with another sigh and a last, longing look back to the bed, Danny made his way downstairs.

In the kitchen, he found the French press already sitting on the counter next to the fridge. The aroma of freshly ground coffee hung in the air, calming Danny's protective instincts instantly. Smiling, he shuffled over to the electric water kettle and switched it on, knowing Steve had already filled it so all Danny had to do was boil the water and pour it into the press to get his coffee.

It was a sweet, considerate gesture on any given day. Today, though, Danny found it unexpectedly reassuring. A hint of normalcy, a routine that Steve remembered in spite of everything.

Still feeling a little bleary-eyed, Danny squinted out of the window while he waited for the water to boil. Steve was nowhere to be seen, though there were a towel and a hoodie draped over the back of one of the chairs by the water.

The kettle behind him plopped, the water inside stopped bubbling. Danny tore his gaze away from the ocean and turned to finish brewing the coffee. He filled two mugs, added milk to his and then made his way outside to the chairs and joined the towel and sweater waiting for Steve's return to land.

The water was calm this morning, the air fresh and the sky clear. Danny spotted Steve a long distance away from shore. He sat and watched quietly, sipping his coffee as Steve cut his way through the shimmering surface with strong, powerful strokes. As much as Danny hated swimming, he felt like could sit here all day and watch Steve swim towards him… though that didn't mean he didn't appreciate the part that followed just as much. Maybe more even. The part where the water grew too shallow for swimming, the part where Steve slowed, stopped, where he dipped under water just a bit more and then stood up, tall and wet and gorgeous, skin glistening in the bright sunlight.

Warmth curled in Danny's stomach. Warmth that had nothing to do with coffee but everything with the soft, fond smile that grew on Steve's lips when he saw Danny sitting there, waiting for him.

With his hands wrapped around his mug, Danny waited as Steve made his way over to him, kept watching him as Steve ran a hand over his face and through his hair to wipe away droplets of water. With an exhale, Danny let his eyes drift shut and canted his head up as Steve leaned down over him for their good morning kiss – Danny's favorite part of the day.

When Steve pulled back, Danny ran his tongue over the saltiness he had left on his lips. “Hmm,” he hummed, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Steve echoed quietly, chuckling.

Danny opened his eyes again and watched as Steve reached for his towel and began scrubbing it over his head. He then patted dry the tanned skin on his arms and chest and Danny felt a small pang of jealousy for the towel. Maybe, if he was any more of a morning person, if the caffein had kicked in by now, if his body wasn't still heavy and lethargic from a too short, unrestful night… Maybe then he would have gotten up right now, put down his coffee mug and run his hands and lips over Steve's body instead of watching him dry off with the stupid towel. But as it were, he was happy enough to watch.

Far too soon in Danny's opinion, Steve threw the towel over the backrest of the chair again, grabbed and pulled on the hoodie and then settled down into the chair far too far away from Danny's. Steve took his coffee mug from the table between them and drank a long sip. He hummed appreciatively, staring out into the waters. Danny kept his eyes on him, watched as the smile on Steve's lips slowly faded away, as his expression grew dim, brows furrowing contemplatively.

Reality catching up.

Sighing, Danny accepted that their brief moment of early morning bliss was over. He took a last sip from his own coffee, then set the empty mug down on the small table. “You get any sleep?” he asked.

Steve slanted him a brief look before he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Did I keep you up?” he asked, guilt evident in his voice.

Danny just shrugged. Steve keeping him up last night wasn't the problem.

“I'm sorry,” Steve still said. “It's just–” he started, then paused to rub at his eyes, looking just as tired as Danny felt. “This thing with Nahele's father.”

“I know,” Danny said gently.

Steve shook his head in what looked like frustration. “I got this– this weird feeling about the guy,” he said. “I can't even put my finger on it. It's just–”

“Your gut?” Danny supplied.

Steve's frown darkened. He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows up on his thighs, still holding he coffee mug between his hands. “I just know that there's something Nahele's not telling me.” He grimaced, as if the idea alone was somehow physically painful. “I wish he would trust me enough to just tell me what's going on.”

The words made something clench uncomfortably inside Danny's chest. “He does trust you, Steve,” he reassured softly.

It wasn't something he would just say to make Steve feel better. Danny knew Nahele trusted Steve more than anyone. And Steve should know that, too. The fact that this whole thing with Nahele's father made Steve doubt the strength of the relationship he had built with the kid was just another reason why Danny had his own reservations about the man.

“Everything is just happening really fast,” Danny continued. “Nahele probably just needs a bit more time to process it all.”

“But there isn't more time,” Steve murmured angrily.

Danny nodded absently, feeling frustration growing inside his own belly now. He wondered how Kaili Huikala's release from prison had taken them all by surprise like this. It just wasn't like Steve to not know about such an important factor in the kid's life, to not keep tabs on his father or at least be aware of the time he had or hadn't left on his sentence.

But then again… Steve had been a little distracted recently, spread a little thin – and not just by making sure Danny didn't get lost in the downward spiral he had found himself caught in after the extradition. Also by welcoming Charlie into their life. Add to that the complications of Charlie's illness and the bone marrow transplant, Catherine's brief return and swift disappearance, Grace's increasing teenage antics in the face of all the change that was happening… and on top of all that their heavy work load with Five-0 – something had to give. Steve was only human after all.

Still, Danny could tell Steve was blaming himself for not having seen this coming, for not being prepared to protect Nahele. But what use was there in dwelling on what should have been done in the past? They needed to look forward now, and do what they could to support the kid through whatever was going to happen.

And who knew, maybe Nahele's reluctance to accept his father back into his life was going to be enough for the judge to not grant the man custody of him… not right away, anyway.

“When's the hearing?” Danny asked.

Steve huffed out a breath. “Tomorrow,” he stated flatly.

Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew the hearing was happening soon, but things were moving a lot faster than he'd expected, especially when he considered his own custody battles with Rachel. It had taken months before the judge had decided that Rachel could not move their daughter to Las Vegas without his permission.

Things seemed to be less complicated when only one parent was involved.

A drawn out sigh from Steve pulled Danny back into the moment. He was staring at the water again, his expression pinched in concern. “What?” Danny prompted. “Talk to me.”

“I'm worried about him,” Steve admitted quietly before he turned his head to look at Danny. “He's in a good place right now. He's doing good at school, he's got friends. Whatever the outcome, I'm afraid this will set him back, make him do something stupid.”

“Like what?” Danny wondered.

Steve's mouth twitched a little. “Run away again.”

There was something in Steve's voice that tore at Danny's heart. Something that spoke of a lifetime of people leaving, betrayal and abandonment, something that meant Steve wanted to spare Nahele from having to grow up and deal with that kind of pain. Something that made Danny want to get up and wrap himself around Steve and promise him over and over again that he would never leave him… even though he almost had not too long ago.

Empty promises.

Guilt, regret and shame bloomed suddenly and unexpectedly inside Danny's chest as memories of Reyes, a Colombian prison cell, and Steve, who had refused to let him stay there, bubbled to the surface.

Biting his lip, Danny forced the dark thoughts spiraling inside his head back down, shoved them aside to be dealt with later, to take them to his next session with the therapist, maybe. Right now, he needed to focus on the problem in front of them. And on Steve.

“He won't do that,” Danny said, forcing the words out a little, his throat still tight from the onslaught of emotion.

Steve shot him an odd look, half questioning, half concerned, probably due to the strange sound of Danny's voice.

Danny cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Look, babe,” he said gently. “Whatever's gonna happen with his father, Nahele knows he can always come here, that he's got a safe place here. That we'll help in any way that we can, that we'll protect him, even from his own father.”

Steve knew all this. And he knew Danny was with him where Nahele was concerned, a hundred percent. Still, Danny felt like he had to remind him, to emphasize the 'we' in his statement, just to make sure. The kid was not alone. He'd never be alone as long as either of them was around.

And maybe that was all the reassurance Steve needed. Because the frown on his face faded, was replaced by a grateful, soft smile.

“I know, Danny,” he said. “Thank you.”

Danny just nodded. “You should go talk to him again,” he then suggested. “Make sure he knows he can always come here.”

Steve nodded, though the smile had disappeared again. “It's not gonna be that simple if his father gets custody.”

Sighing, Danny nodded. It wasn't that simple.

Nahele's father could forbid his son from seeing them. He could move him to another island, or even farther away. There was no telling, really, what Kaili Huikala's intentions were. No one knew what the man was up to. He was a stranger to all of them, even to his son. And his son… Nahele was a good kid but he had been through a lot. It was to be expected that he didn't welcome his father back into his life with arms wide open. The man had been in prison for a reason. He'd done his time, maybe regretted what he did, but that didn't automatically earn him his son's forgiveness and trust.

Maybe that was all this was. Maybe Nahele was still angry at his father for the crimes he had committed. Maybe they were all doing Kaili Huikala wrong for assuming the worst. Maybe he just was a father who longed to be reunited with his son, who wanted to make up for time lost. Danny could understand that.

But maybe there was more to Nahele's reaction. And, being honest, Danny was more than willing to throw all good will for a fellow father right out the window when Steve's gut told him there was something wrong.

The problem was just that there was nothing they could do. And Danny knew that that was the hardest part for Steve to accept, the idea of maybe having to sit idly by while Nahele got hurt.

“I know you wanna do right by the kid, Steve,” Danny said, his voice heavy. “I know you want to fix this. I'm sorry that you can't.”

Steve frowned back at Danny. He shook his head minutely, rolled his eyes a little. “It's not about me,” he stated irritably.

Oh, but it was. In a way, anyway.

There was, after all, a reason why Steve had become so invested in Nahele. He had lost his parents at about the same age. Steve knew what it felt like to suddenly be on your own too soon in life, when you still needed someone who just gave a damn about what happened to you.

Not that that need ever really went away.

It was obvious to Danny that Steve saw a bit of himself in Nahele. He would maybe never admit as much, but Danny could tell. He could tell that Steve was trying to be someone for Nahele, to give him something… something he maybe hadn't gotten from the people who had taken care of him after his father had sent him away. Steve was trying to give this kid a chance to grow up without that pain he himself had carried with him all his life. And maybe, hopefully, he would be able to heal himself in the process, just a little bit.

And this, this thing that threatened to hurt Nahele, to destroy what Steve had tried so hard to help him build, and the fact that there was nothing Steve could do to protect him from this threat – it was… infuriating to Danny. It made him mad, really, really angry. It made him want to head out right now, track down Nahele's father and give the man a piece of his mind. Tell him that he was being a selfish asshole, for abandoning his son in the first place and then coming back into his life with an arrogance and expectance of acceptance and love that he had done nothing to earn or deserve. As a father, the guy should at least know that much. Your children always come first. It's about what they needed, what was best for them, and if your son wasn't ready to be with you then you didn't just take him by force.

“Danny.”

Steve was looking at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

Danny huffed out a breath. “I really wish there was something we could do about this,” he admitted sourly, all sympathy and understanding for Kaili Huikala gone, no matter how much he could emphasize with the instinct to reunite with his son. “Maybe we should go talk to him, try to make him understand that this is not what's best for his son, that Nahele needs a bit more time.”

A small, fleeting smile ghosted over Steve's lips before his expression turned rueful. “I tried. And… I'm afraid it's not really our place,” he said quietly, sounding defeated. “Besides, I don't want to do anything that could influence the judge's opinion of Nahele's situation.”

“You mean the fact that he has people in his life who care about him?” Danny asked, confused. He couldn't exactly see how it was a bad thing, how trying to convince Nahele's father to act in his son's best interest was going to increase his chances at being granted custody. It wasn't like they were competing over the issue, they were just trying to stand up for the kid, support him and his decision.

“I just think it's best if it comes from Nahele. If it's just him telling the judge and his father how he feels, what he wants–” Steve paused, gave a small, somewhat helpless shrug. “Maybe someone will listen.”

“Maybe,” Danny agreed reluctantly, unconvinced.

“Hey, worked for you, right,” Steve said, sounding a little more hopeful.

Danny huffed out a short laugh, thinking back once again to the long, grueling custody battle over Grace when Rachel had wanted to leave Hawaii. And Steve had a point. His lawyer had told Danny that the judge had been impressed by his genuineness, his honesty. He had fought for his daughter by speaking from his heart… but he hadn't done it on his own.

Shaking his head slightly, Danny looked at Steve. “I don't know,” he said slowly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “I think your little improvised speech had a little something to do with it, too.”

Steve smiled at that, too. “Yeah, well,” he said as determination took over his expression. His eyes drifted back to the ocean, fixed on some undefined spot in the distance. “I'm gonna be there for Nahele, too.”

Danny just looked at Steve, a bubble of emotions ballooning inside his chest. “Nahele and I are very lucky to have you,” he said quietly.

Steve dropped his gaze, gave a small, dismissive chuckle. He didn't say anything, though.

After a long moment, he blew out a sharp breath and got out of his chair. “Come on,” he said, then drained the last bit of coffee from his cup. “We gotta get going.”

Looking up to him, Danny nodded slowly. “Go ahead, I'll be right in,” he said, not just ready yet to simply let the issue go, shove it all aside and focus on work. He needed a little time to think, to regain his equilibrium in the midst of all the emotions their conversation had brought up. It was important, he had learned in recent months, to allow himself a moment when he needed it. To not put these things off only to never really address them.

He just wished that he didn't have to do it on his own. Wished that Steve would talk to him about these things just a bit more.

Steve remained quiet. He accepted Danny's request for a moment's more time with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he moved around his chair, but instead of heading straight for the house he came to stand behind Danny. Danny looked up at him, then briefly closed his eyes when a familiar, warm hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Steve bent down and brushed a soft kiss against his temple.

And then he walked away.

* * *

They arrived at the Palace earlier than usually that morning. Tired and unsettled, Danny found himself unable to focus on anything aside from Steve.

He kept staring through the windows, from his own office over to his, watching and worrying, as Steve worked his way through Kaili Huikala's file. Occasionally, he would make a phone call, look something up on the computer. Most of the time he just sat there, like frozen in stone, reading with an undiscernible expression on his face.

Danny couldn't decide if it was a good sign or bad.

He was in the middle of a futile attempt at typing up his report on his undercover stint as Professor Jeffries when he remembered Eric – and the fact that he had maybe neglected to tell his nephew that the case was closed.

Eric, of course, was tragically disappointed by the news, enjoying college life maybe a bit too much.

But aside from breaking Eric's inner frat boy's heart, the rest of the work day remained uneventful. No new case popped up that demanded the task force's attention, which allowed Steve to do a more than thorough background check on Nahele's father. In the end, though, the investigation yielded no new information, not even a hint or a lead. Kaili Huikala was a simple man, who had lived a simple life. Until he hadn't.

Maybe there was nothing to find.

The morning's anger had ebbed away by now, allowing Danny to look at the situation more objectively once again.

Steve, on the other hand, remained convinced that there was something to find, some dark secret to uncover. He left the Palace late in the afternoon, to talk to Nahele again after his football practice. Danny let him go, heart heavy inside his chest and no longer able to tell what outcome he should hope for.

He picked up some food – enough for three – on his way home, but when Steve showed up half an hour later, he was alone and more frustrated than before. Nahele still wanted nothing to do with his father, kept insisting it was because he didn't know the man, because there was no way he had changed, even after eight years in prison.

Danny had to admit that it was a good enough reason. Especially taking into account the boy's age and all the shit he had already been through in his short life. There was no further need to justify why he didn't want to go back to living with his father. The reason should be obvious, understandable to anyone. Enough.

But Steve still had a bad feeling about the whole thing, was convinced there was something Nahele was hiding from him.

He worked on his dad's car in the garage that night. For a while, Danny dared to hope it would maybe help him calm down a little, maybe give him time to think, to reevaluate the situation. There was, after all, a chance this gut feeling Steve had was just some paternal instinct going haywire.

But when he came into the living room long after sundown, he was still a bundle of unresolved tension. Danny could tell from the way he headed straight for the stairs to go for a shower with barely a word.

Unable to focus on the tv afterwards (or maybe even less than before), Danny decided to start cleaning up. Ten minutes later, he turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and followed Steve upstairs.

He stepped into the bedroom just as Steve emerged from the bathroom, already done with his shower and dressed in t-shirt and shorts.

He looked at Danny a little surprised, slowly lowered the towel he'd been scrubbing over his hair. “You turning in?” he asked.

It wasn't even ten.

Danny nodded, giving a shrug. They both needed a little extra sleep after last night anyway. “Yeah. You joining me?” he asked, hopeful.

Steve hesitated for a moment. His throat worked as he swallowed. Finally, he shook his head. “You go ahead,” he said with a false, unconvincing nonchalance in his voice, then turned away under the pretense of tossing the towel into the bathroom. To Danny, it felt like he was hiding. Why, he couldn't tell.

“You're tired,” he argued softly as he moved closer to Steve, until he stood right in front of him. Steve smelled like shampoo and soap. Grease and motor oil had been washed off but the dark smudges underneath his eyes remained.

“Come to bed,” Danny asked, reaching out to worry the soft fabric of the t-shirt over Steve's chest between his fingers, holding on just a little bit to stop him from turning away again, from hiding, leaving.

“Soon,” Steve promised.

Danny decided not to call him out on the obvious lie, tightening his grip on the t-shirt instead. “Babe,” he pleaded simply.

Steve's chest heaved with a sigh underneath Danny's hand. “I don't think I can sleep. I don't wanna keep you up again,” he admitted.

“And I don't want you sittin' around downstairs all night. You gotta sleep.”

“I know.” Steve's eyes flickered close. Another heavy exhale ghosted over Danny's skin. “I know, I just–” His mouth snapped shut, his lips thinned in frustration. The tension in his body was like a tangible force between them, not pushing Danny away, but also not letting him get closer, not letting him in.

“I just wish Nahele would talk to me,” Steve said just as Danny silently wished Steve would talk to him.

Danny's heart gave a hopeful flutter at the admission. He kept urging Steve to open up more to him, but it still rarely happened.

“You sure he isn't just pissed at his father for what he did,” Danny tried to soothe. “For being a criminal, for wasting all this time he could have spent with his son? For not being around when the kid's mother died?”

Steve looked at him, eyebrows draw together pensively as he reevaluated the idea, probably for the millionth time that day. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No.” Another head shake, more insistent and assured this time. “No, it's more than that. I know it's more than that. Nahele is dead-set against even speaking to his father, let alone live with him. And he's not giving an inch. If he was just disappointed in his father for the robberies he committed, he wouldn't be so stubborn about this. I know him, he'd give him a chance.”

Danny sighed at the desperation in Steve's voice. He trusted Steve, and his instincts. But that didn't change the fact that there was nothing they could do about the situation right now, no matter how much it pained Steve to accept that.

“So,” Danny asked, spreading his hand flat against Steve's chest, rubbing soothingly up and down a few times. “You're gonna sit around all night an make up horrible things Nahele's father could have done to him? Hm?”

Steve gave a weak, sad chuckle. “Already got enough going through my mind,” he admitted.

Danny's heart ached, not sure for whom more. “Steve,” he urged gently. There was no use in this, on thinking up scenarios and explanations for why Nahele rejected his father so vehemently. In assuming the worst when maybe, maybe this was nothing more than what they already knew.

But Steve didn't seem able or willing to stop his mind from going to the dark places. With another sigh, he pulled away from Danny, turned and ran a hand through his messy, still damp hair. “I just need him to give me something, anything to prove it's not in his best interest to be with his father.”

Danny just stood there, feeling the now familiar heaviness inside his chest again. He knew this was killing Steve, this inability to fix this. “All you can do is ask, babe,” he said, his voice quiet. “And you did.”

Steve huffed out a breath, focussed his intense gaze on Danny again. “This is not about doing my due diligence with this kid,” he snapped, his voice suddenly droning loudly inside the small room. “I want to do more than that!”

“I know,” Danny assured quietly, calmly.

“I don't wanna sit around and wait until something happens to him.” The words came out angry, dangerous, yet all Danny heard was helplessness and fear.

“I know,” he whispered again, hating that this was all he had to offer.

Steve's eyes grew more desperate, anger bleeding away, leaving behind a raw, pained expression. “I don't wanna see him get hurt.”

Danny shook his head. “I don't either,” he promised, taking yet another step closer to Steve. His hands lifted, to reach out, touch, reassure, comfort.

“What do I do?” Steve asked, his voice just above a whisper when Danny's hands cupped his jaw.

“Come to bed,” Danny stated firmly. “Try to get some rest so you can be there for the kid one hundred percent when he calls,” he added. Because Danny knew, in his bones, that he would call. If there was something, some dark secret, Nahele would tell Steve. The trust was there. The kid just needed a little bit more time.

Danny brushed his thumbs over stubbly cheeks, then dropped his hands to Steve's shoulders. “Come on,” he urged again, nodding towards the bed.

Steve dropped his gaze. His hands settled on Danny's hips before he leaned down and kissed Danny's forehead. “Give me an hour,” he said as he pulled back again.

An hour? To do what?

It was a lie anyway.

Keeping in the annoyed or maybe even angry sigh as well as the protests on his tongue, Danny instead trailed his hands along Steve's arms all the way down to his hands where they still rested on Danny's hips. He gently but firmly pulled them off his body.

Danny didn't let go of Steve's hands, though. He brought them up into the small space between their bodies, intertwining their fingers, holding on.

“Go to bed, Danny,” Steve said quietly.

“To do what, babe?” Lifting his gaze from their joined hands, Danny looked up to Steve. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where his thumb was rubbing circles over the base joint of Danny's. “Because there's no way I'm gonna sleep knowing you're down there, thinking.”

Steve scoffed, seemingly distracted by the slow, continuous motion of his own thumb.

“So, if we're both not sleeping anyway,” Danny murmured as the room around them faded away and the world narrowed itself down to the sensation of Steve's calloused skin against his own. His whole hand tingled, a shiver ran down his spine. “I could think of a few more fun things we could be doing.”

Steve hummed. The low sound made warmth bloom inside Danny's belly.

“Very fun things,” he insisted, shifting his stance, moving in just a little bit closer. “Naked things.”

Steve's chest heaved as he sighed once again. The regretful sound cooled Danny's growing arousal instantly. “Sorry, I—”

“It's okay,” Danny soothed. The apology was unnecessary. He wasn't really in the mood either.

A small, grateful yet apologetic smile curled the corners of Steve's mouth upward.

Then he let their joined hands drop. As Steve's fingers slid from in between Danny's own, he fought to quench the instinct to hold on. “There's always not-naked cuddling,” he offered.

Steve hesitated, still thinking he'd be doing Danny a favor by leaving their bedroom.

“Please stay,” Danny pleaded. “Just stay.”

He took a step forward. His hands came up again to brace Steve's lower ribs. Gently, insistently, he pushed him back, towards the bed behind him. Steve moved reluctantly, almost stumbled on the first step. On the second, though, he went a little easier. On the third, his hands curled around Danny's elbows, his head lowered in acceptance.

On the fourth, his legs collided with the bed frame.

Danny pushed him even further back, until Steve dropped to sit on the bed. Sliding his hands up from Steve's side to his collar bones, Danny kept pushing until he surrendered, laying down and even pulling his legs up on the bed without any further prompting.

Satisfied for the moment, Danny stood back up. “Be back in five minutes, okay,” he promised, starting to unbutton his shirt.

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve shifted on his back. He looked stiff and uncomfortable where he lay.

Hands stilling on the second button, Danny sighed, convinced that he'd find the bed empty no matter how quick he was in the bathroom.

“Oh, screw it,” he muttered. Crawling over Steve and ignoring the surprised sound he made, Danny laid down next to him. He snuggled close, pillowed his head on Steve's shoulder and snaked an arm around his waist, anchoring him to the bed, determined not to let go, at least until the sun came up.

* * *

“The state of Hawaii prides itself in reconnecting families and after careful consideration, I believe that is what we should do here today. This court feels that it is in Nahele's best interest to be reunited with his father.”

Nahele, for one, seemed to disagree. He shot up from his seat and stormed out of the room before the judge had even finished speaking, before she had officially granted his father's petition for custody. Before she had officially changed his life.

Danny's eyes slid close for the briefest moment when the judge gave her decision, allowing himself a moment of– of something. Something he couldn't accurately name. Something that wasn't anger or disbelieve or injustice. Something that was just painful, in a deeply familiar way.

He had sat in Kaili Huikala's spot not too long ago. Back then, it had taken more than one hearing, more than an hour to decide whether or not Rachel could move to Las Vegas with his daughter, whether Danny had the right to be with her. He had fought for Grace, long and hard. And it had cost him more than just a small fortune in lawyer fees.

And here was a man, an ex con whose son couldn't even look him in the eye, and he just got what he wanted? Had the judge even listened to what Nahele had told her?

Did anyone ever give a damn about what the kids wanted? Did anyone ever really listen to them?

Danny still wondered if it had made a difference back then, when Grace had told the judge that she wanted to stay in Hawaii, with her friends and her dad — and her mom, if she could choose whatever she wanted.

Nahele had been asked a similar question today. And he had said he would rather go back to living in the streets than be with his father.

How was this decision in Nahele's best interest?

Next to Danny, Steve sat quietly, stiff and still, head bowed in defeat.

Danny slid a hand onto his thigh, just above the knee and gave the tense muscle a gentle squeeze. “You okay?” he asked in a whisper, even though the court was no longer in session.

Steve's gaze lifted to meet Danny's, eyes heavy as if he had just failed Nahele in a monumental way. He let out a sigh, slowly shook his head. “No.”

The small word ached inside Danny's chest, made him want to pull Steve in, hold him close and find a way to fix this whole mess… but a set of dark, disdainful eyes made him freeze where he sat. Kaili Huikala was watching the two of them intently, staring at Danny and Steve with a deep, grim frown creasing his brows. Danny almost shuddered, a cold shiver running down his spine. At the same time, though, a feeling of fierce protectiveness bloomed inside his belly. Even if the look directed at them wasn't necessarily a threatening one, Nahele's father clearly saw something in them he didn't like.

Trying to ignore boring eyes, Danny averted his focus back to Steve, giving his thigh another squeeze. “Come on,” he urged gently, almost unconsciously shifting his body to hide Steve from Kaili Huikala's view. “I think Nahele needs you right now.”

Steve simply nodded his agreement.

* * *

Nahele was there, sitting in the Marquis in the garage.

Danny felt so relieved he could cry. It was more than just knowing that Nahele was safe, more than seeing him whole and unharmed. It was knowing he had come here, knowing that Steve's home was the place where he felt safe. And it was Steve, too, who had known, deep down and in spite of all the recent doubts, that Nahele would be here waiting for them.

Danny's world looked just a bit brighter when he headed back to the kitchen to give Steve and Nahele some time alone to talk. Still, his mind kept spinning, nervous energy buzzed in every fiber of his body. He cleaned the breakfast dishes just to be doing something and almost dropped a plate.

It was still early, so he decided to make coffee after he finished. Caffein probably wasn't the best idea, but Steve had looked so tired. Nahele liked to drink coffee too. Danny kept telling him it would stunt his growth but the kid just never listened, just smiled and rolled his eyes.

Smiling at the fond memory, Danny ended up pouring unground beans into the French press. He stopped then, not really trusting himself with a kettle full of hot, boiling water.

He went to the living room, paced back an forth there a few times, thinking about heading upstairs to change out of his suit. Maybe he should call Kamekona, let him know that Nahele might not be in for work for a couple of days… maybe not ever again. But before he could really make a decision, he heard the door to the garage open. Danny stopped, froze where he stood, held his breath without realizing it.

Steve was leading Nahele into the living room, with a hand on the base of the boy's neck. A small gesture of support.

Nahele had been crying. His eyes were still red, his nose stuffy, he kept sniveling. Steve's expression was serious.

Danny raised his eyebrows expectantly at him.

Steve answered with an odd look, one that Danny couldn't place but definitely didn't like.

Hands spread wide, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, Danny lifted his shoulders, silently asking what was going on.

When Steve stopped, Nahele did the same. The kid's eyes were huge, he looked painfully lost. His breath hitched a couple of times. Steve ducked his head to get into his line of sight, to get him to focus. “Nahele, go watch some tv or something, okay?” he said quietly, firm voice gentle and caring. Nahele just stared back at him, still wide-eyed, his expression blank.

A heavy brick of dread seemed to settle inside Danny's stomach. The roomed around them grew darker.

“Okay?” Steve asked again, giving the kid's neck a firm squeeze. “Look at me, Nahele,” he insisted when there was no reaction.

The kid nodded. He blinked his still vacant eyes once.

“I'll take care of everything, I promise.”

Nahele just nodded again. With a little push from Steve, he stumbled towards the couch.

Danny looked on with concern, fear thrumming in his veins as he wondered what made Nahele act this way. What dark secret had just come to light. Maybe he didn't want to know.

This wasn't about what Danny wanted, though.

With a pointed look at Steve, he jerked his head towards the kitchen. When Steve hesitated, Danny moved over to him, grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

“What?” he asked Steve as soon as they were out of earshot, his tone sharper than necessary, colored by frustration and fear, mostly helplessness. “What are you taking care of? What's going on?”

Steve just stood there, breathing heavier than normal, his gaze darting around aimlessly. Danny could see the cogs turning inside his head, the dark storm brewing behind his eyes – his whole focus on whatever was going on with Nahele.

Danny reached out, gently put his hand on Steve's forearm where it was folded in front of his chest. “Babe?” he asked again, softer and careful this time. “What's going on?”

Steve's eyes found Danny, settled on him. Something like recognition flickered across his face. For a moment, he went completely still, even stopped breathing. Then, as he slowly exhaled, he folded in on himself, just a little bit. Maybe it was the relief of finally knowing what was going on. Maybe it was the heavy burden of Nahele's secret. Danny couldn't be sure. But whatever this was, it made him want to warp both arms around Steve, just to make sure he remained upright.

“His father killed someone. Years ago, when Nahele was just a kid.”

Danny could only stare at Steve. He hadn't seen that coming.

Steve sighed. “He says he remembers being in a car with his dad and another man. They– they stopped and his father told Nahele to wait in the car. He remembers hearing a gun going off. His father coming back alone.”

Danny looked away, turned his head in the direction of the kitchen door, towards the living room where Nahele sat, alone. Anger burned inside his gut as he pictured the scenario Steve was describing. A father taking his baby son along to witness an execution? What kind of a monster was that man? How could he even be allowed to be in the same room as his son?

If that's what really happened.

The thought just popped into his head. Danny was a detective, a damn good cop. So he couldn't help it.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, trying to sort through the sudden chaos in his mind, the conflict between emotion and rational thought. “Okay, that's– How long ago does he say this happened?”

He tried to keep the sound of his voice neutral, his mind objective, tried to push his own furious anger aside. There was no room for error with this and someone needed to keep a clear head if they really wanted to help Nahele… Steve probably couldn't, hurting for the kid as he was. So Danny had to. And he could. For Steve and for Nahele.

“He's not sure.” Steve's voice was laced with suspicion when he answered, his brows furrowed darkly. “Ten years maybe.”

Danny clenched his hands to fists, focussing on the information. Ten years. Ten years was a goddamn long time. Nahele had been awfully young back then. Just a few years older than Charlie was now. Maybe not even old enough to really understand what had happened.

“You got anything concrete?” Danny asked, an apology seeping into the tone of his voice. He knew how much Steve would hate this.

“What are you saying, Danny?” he asked. “You think he's lying? You think he made this all up?” The anger was all protective instinct. Danny didn't take it personally.

“I'm not saying that,” he corrected calmly. “I'm asking if you got anything more than a decade old memory of a six-year-old kid.”

“Is his word not enough for you?” Steve's eyes narrowed as he towered over Danny, trying to intimidate, to threaten even. He was going to fight for this kid, come what may. And all Danny felt was relief, because Nahele sure as hell was going to need someone like Steve on his side for this.

“It doesn't matter what is or isn't enough for me,” Danny countered quietly. “We're talking about a murder charge here. We're going to need more.”

Steve huffed out a breath, unhappy, frustrated probably, because he knew Danny was right.

“So what are you planning to do? Hm?” Danny asked. “How exactly are you planning to take care of this?”

There was no answer. Danny didn't need one. He could see what he needed to know plainly in Steve's dark eyes.

“Take a moment, take a breath,” he urged, touching Steve's arm again just above the elbow, hopefully calming and grounding. “I know you wanna head over there, confront the guy. But we gotta do this the right way.”

Steve exhaled. Dropping his head as some of the tension left his body, he closed his eyes. “I know. I know.”

Good. Danny held on to him. “So what are we gonna do?”

“I got a location,” Steve ground out.

“Okay,” Danny prompted with a squeeze to Steve's arm, willing him to just breathe.

“I– I'm gonna head to the office, see if there were any bodies discovered in the area, if there are any unsolved murders…” Steve trailed off with half a shrug. They both knew it was a long shot. And that Steve wouldn't stop until he had answers.

Answers that, maybe, weren't even there. There was another possibility to consider. Danny swallowed before he spoke. “I hate to ask this, but are you sure he's telling the truth? That he's not just making this up to get away from his father?”

A flash of anger flared up in the intense gaze Steve leveled at Danny. “I'm sure,” he all but hissed.

Danny met the heated glare with an understanding yet questioning look of his own.

Steve closed his eyes, anger bleeding away.

Stubbornly, though, he shook his head. “I'm sure, okay?” he insisted.

To Danny, it sounded desperate, scared. Like Steve wanted so, so much to believe that this was the truth, that this was not something Nahele had made up only to be able to stay away from his father... that Nahele had trusted him with this secret… because Steve so desperately needed Nahele to trust him, the fact that the kid had come here somehow not proof enough.

And Danny wanted nothing more for Steve.

“Okay,” he simply said, ignoring the uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

Steve hesitated. He looked at Danny uncertainly.

“Go,” Danny urged. “I'll stay with the kid.”

“Thanks.” It sounded relieved and not at the same time.

* * *

“Hey,” Danny said quietly when he walked back into the living room. He had waited in the kitchen as Steve left, on his way out promising Nahele once again to take care of everything.

When he noticed Danny, Nahele's head snapped up. He looked scared.

Danny raised up the can of soda he'd brought from the kitchen. “You want anything to drink? Or eat? You hungry?”

Nahele stared at the can for a beat. Then he jerkily shook his head. “No. Thanks.”

Trying to ignore the skittish behavior and not read anything into it, Danny made his way over to the lounge chair next to the couch where Nahele was sitting. “Well, if you change your mind, you know your way around.” Het set the can down on the coffee table. “Help yourself. Do you wanna—”

“You don't believe me, do you?” the kid blurted out.

With a sigh, Danny lowered himself down into the chair. He considered the question for a moment, tried to think of the best way to answer it. He didn't want to patronize Nahele. He was too old and too smart for that. But at the same time, he didn't want him to feel like Danny thought he was lying.

“What you say happened was a long time ago,” he started calmly.

“I– I know what happened,” Nahele interrupted, his voice defensive as he scooted back, putting a couple more inches of distance between the two of them.

“You were just a kid,” Danny reasoned gently, ignoring the urge to pull this scared, young boy into a hug and never let go. “Maybe you misinterpreted the situation.”

Nahele just stubbornly shook his head, reminding Danny of Steve, in an irritating but endearing way. “I don't care if you believe me or not,” he muttered, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest, physically distancing himself from Danny even more.

Danny wasn't sure what he believed. And it didn't really matter right now. They'd find out the truth, eventually.

Right now, what mattered was that Nahele felt safe.

“Listen, kid,” Danny said, his voice a little firmer than before. “It doesn't matter what I believe. I don't think you're lying. I think you're scared. I think you're sacred that what you think you remember doesn't turn out to be true. That you hated your father for no reason for all those years. But you're even more scared that it turns out you're right.”

And that, Danny thought, was probably why Nahele hadn't told Steve about this sooner. He was scared to finally find out the truth, to know for sure whether or not his father was a killer, a murderer.

Nahele stared at Danny, wide-eyed, fear more evident in his eyes than Danny had ever seen. “I don't know what to think,” he whispered helplessly.

“That's okay,” Danny tried to soothe. “You don't have to have any answers.”

“What if he did it? What if he did it but there's no evidence, no way to prove it?”

Danny had no reassuring answers to those questions.

“Hey, slow down,” he said instead. “Let's wait and see what Steve finds out, okay?”

Hesitantly, Nahele nodded, like the mention of Steve's name was enough to give him just a little bit of hope. And Danny wished Steve could see the endless trust the boy had in him. It was right there, in his eyes.

“Don't worry, kid,” he said with a sigh. “We'll figure this out together.”

Nahele raised uncertain, surprised eyebrows at him.

Danny rolled his eyes in return. “Don't look at me like that, don't look at me like I got three heads. You're family. We all care about you. You just gotta let us. Especially Steve, cause he gets really cranky when you don't.”

That got a laugh out of the kid. A shaky and awkward one, but Danny took it as a win all the same.

“Come on,” he said and stood, eyeing the wrinkled suit Nahele was still wearing. “Let's find you something more comfortable to wear, hm?”

* * *

Danny waited in the hallway until he heard the shower start running before he went back downstairs. On the way, he fished his phone from his pants pocket, checking to see if Steve had maybe texted with an update or an inquiry about how Nahele was holding up. But when the screen lit up, it showed nothing but Grace and Charlie's faces, both smiling happy-goofily back at him.

The photo was barely a month old. Today, however, the memory felt distant, almost like a dream.

Standing at the foot of the staircase, Danny stared at the picture until the screen faded back to black. Given everything that was going on, he wondered if it would be better to cancel their plans for the weekend. He'd have to discuss it with Steve, though. Wait, see what happened today, how long this search for some nameless ghost was going to go on.

Once again, frustration stirred in his gut.

Danny clenched his hands to fists to will it away. He hated this. The fact that the priorities he set sometimes became so meaningless. Grace and Charlie were supposed to come first. Always. No discussion. But life kept making other plans, kept interfering in ways that were beyond anyone's control.

But this, Danny reminded himself, wasn't just another case. This was Nahele. Nahele, who had come here, to Steve's and Danny's home when he got scared.

So maybe… maybe it was time for Danny to adjust his priorities, make a little room for one more kid. No matter what was going to happen with his father.

Suddenly, Danny regretted telling Steve to go. They could have asked someone else to investigate what Nahele had told him. It didn't need to be Steve. Steve could have stayed, with Nahele and Danny and then Danny wouldn't miss him so much right now.

But Steve wasn't here. The living room was empty and dark, even though it was the middle of the day. Rain clouds hung heavy in the sky today, as if someone up there knew the Hawaiian sunshine would only seem inappropriate.

The ringing of the phone still clutched in his hand startled Danny. Steve was smiling at him from the display.

“Hey,” Danny said after accepting the call. “You got anything?”

“We found a body,” Steve answered, his voice tight and quiet with barely controlled anger. “Shallow grave, right where Nahele said. Timeline looks consistent, according to Max's preliminary findings.”

Danny slowly released a breath. “Okay,” he simply said, relieved and not at the same time. Knowing the truth made things easier – but his heart also ached for Nahele. The uncertainty he'd had to live with for so long now gone only to find out he'd been right, his worst fears becoming reality. Having witnessed his father kill someone at such a young age, losing him all over again now.

“I'm heading over to Kaili Huikala's house.”

“Babe,” Danny protested instinctually. He knew it had to be done, that Steve needed to do this. But Danny still wished he would just come home.

“I'll make him talk,” Steve vowed. “I'll get a confession out of him 'cause I'm not gonna let Nahele go to court to testify.”

Danny hadn't even considered that. Knowing the truth didn't mean this was over, not for any of them. “Okay,” he said again, telling himself that it was just one more thing Steve needed to do to protect Nahele. One more thing, then he'd come home. “I don't want you to go alone.”

“Duke's already on the way.”

Anger and pain were so evident in Steve's voice. It was a scary combination, stirring unease in Danny once again. He wished he could be there for Steve and Nahele at the same time. But the kid took priority. Of course, he did.

“I still don't want you to go alone,” Danny stated quietly, failing to keep the desperate need to be with Steve from coloring the tone of his voice.

“Danny–”

“Please.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “I'll take Kono.”

“Good.” Danny forced out, his throat feeling tight with relief. “Thank you.”

“How's Nahele holding up?” Steve asked.

Danny sighed at the question, his gaze flickering up toward the bathroom. “He's scared, unsure… he doesn't know what to believe, what he really remembers.”

“He was right.” It came out defiant, as if Steve thought there were any doubts left in Danny's mind. There weren't. It would have been too big of a coincidence. And he wanted to tell Nahele right away, Danny wanted to make sure the kid knew he had been right all along, wanted to at least lift that burden of doubt and not knowing off his shoulders after all this time. But finding the body didn't prove much yet. They needed more, evidence, forensics, to be able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Nahele's father was actually the one who had killed this man… whoever he was.

“I don't wanna tell him yet,” Danny said, apologetic once again. “I think it's better to wait, until we know for sure.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Steve agreed after a moment. He probably wanted to be there, tell Nahele in person. Whatever the reason, Danny was just glad they were on the same page.

“Be safe,” he urged.

“I'll call you,” Steve promised, then ended the call.

* * *

A little while later, Danny was in the kitchen, boiling some pasta and throwing together a quick tomato sauce, when Nahele walked in.

They had been watching tv, some cop show Danny had never heard of before. Half way through, Nahele's stomach had started growling so loudly, it had made Danny wonder if the kid had gotten anything to eat at all today.

Pasta with tomato sauce, one of the first dished he'd learned how to make for Grace after the divorce, seemed somehow fitting.

Chopping some fresh basil leaves, Danny watched out of the corner of his eye as the kid came into the kitchen and went over to the fridge to get out a can of soda.

“Dinner should be ready in ten,” Danny said, not pausing in what he was doing.

“Hmhm,” Nahele acknowledged. He looked over to Danny, watched the fluid motion of his hands for a little while, almost as if entranced, eyes wide and unfocussed.

“You okay?” Danny asked over his shoulder, brows creased in concern.

Nahele blinked his eyes, frowned a little. His gaze, however, remained blank.

“Those robberies,” he said when Danny put down the knife and turned to face him. “I never hated him for that.” Nahele shrugged, eyes still glued to the cutting board. “Money's always been tight, you know. And then my mom got sick and… I don't know, I guess the bills just started to pile up and… he just didn't know what else to do.” The frown on the kid's face darkened, he slightly shook his head. “I know what he did was wrong but… I— I didn't really understand what was going on back then. I knew things were bad… I— They just took him away some day. My mom only told me what he'd done and why he was in prison a few months before she—”

Nahele's gaze suddenly snapped up, meeting Danny's. His eyes were shining brightly with tears and fear.

“That's when I remembered. The sound was suddenly back in my head. That gun going off.” Nahele paused, shook his head again. “Or at least I think it was a gun. I don't—”

He broke off suddenly, rubbed his free hand across his face, then averted his gaze up to the ceiling. “What if I'm wrong?” he asked, his voice quiet, as if he was too afraid to speak any louder. Because what if his mind had played a trick on him, if what he thought had happened wasn't even real? Danny could picture pretty well what was going through the kid's head. It was all right there, in his terrified eyes.

Wiping his hands on the towel tucked into the waistband of his pants, Danny took a step towards Nahele. Maybe holding off telling him what Steve had found wasn't such a good idea after all.

Biting his lip, Nahele looked down to the soda can in his hand. Just when Danny wanted to reach out to pull him into a hug, his phone started ringing on the counter. The buzzing loud vibrations seemed to startle Nahele. He flinched away from Danny.

With an apologetic look to the kid, Danny quickly grabbed his phone, finding a familiar face smiling back at him – just not the one he had expected. “It's Kono,” he muttered, fear spreading through his veins like ice. Why wasn't Steve calling? Had something gone wrong? Had something happened?

His hand shook ever so slightly when he tapped the screen to accept the call. “Hey, what's up?”

“We got Kaili Huikala in custody,” she said, foregoing any kind of greeting. The seriousness in the tone of her voice did nothing to dispel Danny's worries. “Eric just called, preliminary results from the bullet we found with the body are back. It's a match for the gun they still got in evidence from the robberies.”

“Where's Steve?” Danny asked, unable to help himself. He couldn't focus on anything until he knew–

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Danny,” Kono groaned. “He's fine, okay. He's talking to Ellie, making sure she has everything she needs.”

Danny closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself a moment of relief.

Looking up, he found Nahele staring at him with stark naked fear in his eyes.

“Steve actually asked me to call you, to let you know,” Kono continued. Danny barely heard what she was saying.

“I gotta go,” he said, already moving closer to Nahele. “Tell Steve to get his ass home.” He ended the call with that and all but dropped his phone on the counter in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” Nahele asked. He looked scared, but determination to be strong shone brightly in his large eyes. “What happened? What's going on?”

“They found the body,” Danny told him evenly. He took another step closer to Nahele. When the kid didn't move, Danny closed the rest of the distance between them and reached out, putting a hand on one of Nahele's shoulders. “Your father confessed,” he added, giving the tense muscle underneath his hand a squeeze.

Nahele gasped in a hitching breath, as if it was the first in a long while. His eyes filled with tears. Pressing his lips together tightly, Danny watched him struggle to keep the emotions inside for a moment. He couldn't bear watching, though. No kid his age should feel like he needed to be strong in a moment like this.

Wrapping both arms around him, Danny pulled Nahele in close. “Hey, hey, come here,” he hushed. “It's okay. It'll be okay.”

After a moment's resistance, Nahele all but sagged against Danny, letting himself be held and comforted by him as he cried for everything he had lost.

* * *

“Is it over?”

It was like all of Danny's reassurances didn't mean anything until Nahele heard it from Steve. Danny didn't mind. In a way, he felt the same.

Nahele had shot up from the couch as soon as Steve's truck had pulled up to the house. He hadn't run outside, though, just waited anxiously a few paces away from the door. As soon as Steve had entered, the question burst right out of him.

Steve stopped in the door, taking in Nahele and his big, hopeful eyes. His gaze flickered briefly to where Danny sat on the couch. The relief Danny saw in his eyes made something unfurl inside his chest and he knew right then that, yes, it was over.

Nahele would need a little more reassurance though.

Steve looked back to Nahele and nodded slowly. “Yeah. It's over,” he said gently. “Your father will be charged with murder in the morning. He confessed. It's over.”

Nahele swallowed thickly as he took in the information. Absently, he took half a step back. Bumping into the side of the easy chair, he let himself drop down on the armrest. “Did he say anything?” he asked, peering up at Steve with trepidation. “About me? Is he mad?”

Steve walked a few steps further into the room, crouched down right in front of the kid. “Doesn't matter,” he said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his knee. “You're safe.”

Nahele nodded, his gaze dropping down to his lap. “I'm sorry. I should have– I didn't–”

“It's okay,” Steve said. He rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Nahele, pulling his head close to his chest. “None of this is your fault. You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine.”

* * *

After dinner, Nahele excused himself and went upstairs, saying he needed some time alone. He looked about as tired and exhausted as Danny felt. Not that the day's stress wouldn't have been enough to wipe anyone out by seven in the evening, but Danny suspected Nahele hadn't gotten any more sleep the past few nights than he or Steve had.

Thankfully, Danny had had the good foresight to make sure Grace's room was all set up for him to at least stay the night. They'd have to figure out where to go from there soon though. With his father going back to prison, Nahele was destined to go back into the system, back to his group home. Which wasn't a terrible option. It had worked out for him in the past. He got along well with the other kids there, his school attendance was perfect, his grades up.

But just as Danny had carved out a bigger space in his heart for the kid today, he and Steve would also be able to find a space for him in their home. It was certainly an option. Nahele felt safe here, that was the most important part. Grace and Charlie liked having him around. The rest they could somehow figure out.

The unknown variable in the equation was Steve.

He loved the kid, no doubt about it. And he'd do anything to make sure Nahele was well taken care of, safe, and happy. But still, Danny wasn't sure if he was ready.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he himself was ready either.

Taking in a child, even – or maybe especially – at Nahele's age was a huge responsibility. And he and Steve had been through so much not too long ago. They were both still healing – if Steve had even started yet. Maybe they weren't going to be able to offer the full support a teenager with Nahele's past needed. Maybe the stability and familiarity of the group home was best for him right now.

Danny heaved a sigh and raked a hand through his hair, uncaring if he was mussing it up. He needed a good night's sleep before he thought about any of this any longer, before doubts and uncertainty and nasty pessimistic thoughts invaded his mind.

The creaking of floor boards was just the distraction he needed.

Danny looked up from his spot on the couch and watched Steve come down the stairs. He was freshly showered and had changed into a t-shirt and sweat shorts. He looked cozy, snuggleable.

“He asleep?” Danny asked, jutting his chin up in the direction of Grace's room. He knew Steve couldn't have walked by the door without checking on Nahele.

Steve nodded as he huffed out a sigh. “It's been a long day.”

“I'll say,” Danny agreed. Pulling his legs off the coffee table, he scooted a little to the left and then patted the spot next to him. “Come on, come here.”

Steve came willingly and let himself drop down low on the couch with a groan. Danny gave in to the urge and snuggled in close to his side. “How are you doing?” he asked. Resting his hand at the center of Steve's chest, he felt him take in a deep breath.

Steve wrapped his arm around Danny's shoulder, pulling him in even closer. “Glad it's over,” he sighed. “Thank you. For staying with him.”

Steve voice was soft and calm, but Danny could feel the lingering tension in his body. He curled his fingers a little, smoothed his thumb back and forth over the soft fabric of Steve's t-shirt. “Hey,” he asked, craning his neck to look up to him. “What's wrong?”

Steve swallowed, then shook his head dismissively. “It's nothing.”

Danny dropped his head again, pressed his lips against Steve's shoulder, kissing it. “Talk to me.”

The breath Steve exhaled sounded equal parts frustrated and hurt. “I just– I just don't understand why didn't he tell me sooner. Why did he wait so long? Why did he wait until it was almost too late?” Steve paused to rub a hand over his face. “I mean, what did I do wrong? Why didn't he feel like he could trust me with this?”

Danny kissed his shoulder again. “Look,” he said, pulling back again to look at Steve, to take in the lost look on his face, barely hidden under a dark frown and empty gaze. “He was just a kid when it happened, and from what he told me, it sounds a lot like he blocked out the memory for a while. He said he only remembered when his mother told him his father was in prison. He was scared that he didn't remember things right, that it was all some kind of trick his mind was playing on him.”

Steve's brows furrowed even more. “He still could have told me,” he argued. “We would have figure it out.”

Danny smoothed his hand up over Steve's chest, then lifted it to cradle his jaw. “He didn't trust himself,” he explained gently. Steve still didn't look at him, so Danny continued. “He didn't trust his own memory. But when it matter, he trusted you. It took him some time but he trusted you when he couldn't trust himself. He was scared and confused and he came here. He came here.”

Finally, Steve blinked his eyes, then turned his head, just a bit, and looked at Danny. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, sad but hopeful. “Yeah, he did.”

The End