Chapter Text
“Welcome home, babe,” Danny said from where he sat on the sofa.
There was a game playing on the TV, but the volume was down. Conan, their Leonberger, had his head resting in Danny’s lap, eyes closed in ecstasy while Danny scratched behind his ears. Steve took a moment to simply watch the two of them, heart filling with love for the pair.
It had taken months for Steve to warm up to Conan. It hadn’t helped that the dog had been the prime suspect in a murder investigation which had, thankfully, resolved itself in the dog’s favor. Conan had been drugged out of his mind by the very man who’d been killed. Until the case that had brought he and Danny together, Steve hadn’t realized that mad scientists could be found outside of science fiction.
It may have taken him months to grow to like Conan, but Steve had fallen for Danny the moment that they met. He was still falling in love with the man a little more each day.
“Cat got your tongue?” Danny asked, craning his neck to look at Steve.
“No,” Steve said, stripping out of his gear and heading over to the couch. “Just wondering how I got to be so lucky.”
Danny raised an eyebrow at Steve’s words, but didn’t say anything when Steve plopped down next to him, slung an arm over Danny’s shoulders and kissed him. Conan whined and Steve reached down to pat the dog on the head, earning the thump of a tail and a lick on his palm.
“You haven’t gotten lucky yet, soldier,” Danny said when Steve let him up for air. “How was work?”
Steve leaned back against the couch and sighed. “It was work,” he said, not wanting to talk about the drug bust that hadn’t gone quite the way that it was supposed to go. Everyone was alive, and that was all that mattered. He didn’t need to give Danny something to worry about.
“How was your day?” he asked. He always enjoyed hearing about Danny’s work at the veterinary clinic that he owned, Happy Tails.
“Maggie had her litter,” Danny said, all smiles. “Ten perfect little puggles.”
“No,” Steve said before Danny could even ask. “We already have our hands full with Conan and the twin kittens that you brought home last week.”
Danny frowned. “I wasn’t going to ask,” he said, but Steve knew better. If Danny had his way, their house would rival Noah’s ark with taking in animals from his practice.
“What’s a puggle anyway?” Steve asked.
“A cross between a pug and a beagle,” Danny said. “They’re adorable and --”
Steve groaned, tuning out Danny’s gushing over the pups. The last thing they needed in their lives was another dog. The one that they had already took up half of their bed when there were thunderstorms (thankfully those were few and far between) or fireworks, and, if Steve wasn’t persistent, Conan would probably take up the entirety of their bed every night of the week.
Still, he loved Danny, and he loved Danny’s heart for animals. They would probably end up with a puggle once the puppies were old enough to go to homes, and Steve would end up falling in love with him or her in the end, just like with Conan and the kittens. Danny’s clients liked to give him gifts. He was a damn good veterinarian, which was another thing that Steve loved about the man.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Danny said when he noticed that Steve had been silent for while.
“Just thinking about how much I love you,” Steve said, “and remembering when we first met.”
Danny smacked him on the chest. It wasn’t hard. Steve caught Danny’s hand and twined his fingers with Danny’s.
“Seems like it was just yesterday, rather than almost two years ago...”
"I'd really love to help you out with your investigation, but I'm a veterinarian, not a detective," Doctor Williams said, and he offered Steve a sincere, yet tight, smile.
It was clear that the doctor's words, and the firm handshake that accompanied them, were supposed to be Steve's cues to leave and conduct the rest of his investigation elsewhere. Steve, however, wasn't inclined to go anywhere yet, and it wasn't just the doctor's gorgeous blue eyes, and perfect ass that made him want to stay a little longer (indefinitely), but the fact that Dr. Williams, sexy or not, was a suspect in the death of a rival veterinarian, Dr. Anton Hesse. It had been a grisly scene and a set of huge pawprints had led from Dr. Hesse’s place of business to Dr. Williams’.
Steve cleared his throat and fought the urge to hold onto the vet's hand a little longer than necessary. Tani waggled her eyebrows, and Lou bounced uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, looking away from the three of them.
"I'm sure that you're a fine veterinarian, Dr. Williams," Steve said, placing emphasis on the word fine, "and I can assure you that I'm a good detective. I promise that I and my team will be out of your way just as soon as we've finished our investigation here, and you've answered all of our questions to my, er, our satisfaction."
The vet glared at him, and jabbed a finger in Steve's direction. He shook his head, and backed away from the team. "No way. You cannot come in here and tell me that you and your crack team of detectives are good at your job, and treat me like I'm a suspect in the murder of a man that I openly admit that I hate...hated. I didn’t kill him. If you were half the detective that you claim to be, you’d know that." Dr. Williams frowned, shook his head, and held his hands out in front of him, as though warding off an attack.
Steve narrowed his eyes, and advanced on the man, seeing what his second in command had noticed moments before he had if Lou's sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. The doctor's arms were covered in bruises and scratches that none of them would have noticed if the left sleeve of his shirt hadn't ridden up when he'd raised his arms.
Steve felt fury rise in his chest as he advanced on the man, practically pinning the doctor to the wall that he'd backed himself into as he'd talked, hands moving dramatically. He hated being lied to, and hated that, for a few minutes, he'd been attracted to a cold blooded killer with a compact body and the physique of a demigod.
"I didn't kill him," Dr. Williams said, swallowing, and glaring at Steve.
"How do you explain these bruises, and scratches, then?" Steve asked, pulling the doctor's sleeve up, heedless of the buttons that popped and scattered on the floor, revealing a series of stark bruises, and long scratches that ran the length of the doctor's arm. A cursory glance at the man's other arm proved to Steve that it, too, bore its own set of bruises.
The doctor's chest was heaving, and there were tears in his eyes. His jaw was locked stubbornly, and he tried to pull his arm out of Steve's hand. Steve's grip was too firm. The doctor would undoubtedly have another set of bruises to match those that he already had.
"You're an animal," the doctor hissed, yanking his arm hard, and rubbing at the fresh bruises. "I suppose that you think these bruises prove something. That... that they prove that...that I'm a killer. I’m not."
Steve raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms over his chest. He took a step back when he felt Tani's hand on his shoulder.
The doctor swallowed, gaze darting toward the door, and resting on each of them in turn, before finally returning to Steve. The doctor's shoulders sagged, and he rubbed a hand over his face.
"How'd you get those injuries, Doctor Williams?" Steve asked, keeping his voice quieter, more gentle than he was with most suspects.
"Would you believe that I got them from an over enthusiastic Leonberger by the name of Conan?" Dr. Williams asked.
Steve frowned, eyes locked on the doctor, looking for any sign of deception in the man's face. He saw exhaustion and a desperation to be believed.
"What's a Leonberger?" Steve asked. He took a step back to give the doctor some breathing room, and ignored the look of disbelief on Tani's face.
The doctor's face was transformed by the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen, and before Steve knew what was happening, he was being ushered into one of the backrooms of the vet clinic, while the doctor talked a mile a minute, hands moving at the speed of light. Mildly concerned for his own safety, Steve mentally mapped the route that they were taking, and didn't catch a single word the vet had said.
So engrossed in the mental map that he was making, Steve ran directly into the back of the doctor when he'd stopped walking. Steve felt himself blush. "I'm sorry, Dr. Williams, I--"
"Please call me Danny," the man said. “I mean, that is if it’s not against police policy.”
Steve blinked at the doctor. “Steve,” he said, holding his hand out to Danny.
Danny gifted him with another beautiful smile and Steve felt a punch in his gut. He really hoped that the investigation would prove that Danny hadn’t killed Dr. Hesse because he kind of wanted to spend the rest of his natural life with the man, and didn’t think he would be able to wait out a prison sentence, though something told him that Danny would be well worth the wait.
“What’s with that face?” Danny asked, gesturing at Steve’s face. He was frowning, and Steve hated that. Danny was much prettier when he was smiling.
“What? I don’t have a face,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest and squaring off with the doctor.
“Says the man with the face,” Danny said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Anyway, man without a face, as I was saying, Conan’s a little on the jumpy side; I’m still training him, so don’t make any sudden moves. I’d hate for him to damage that pretty not-face you’ve got.”
Was it his imagination, or had the good doctor blushed before turning away to unlock the door? Steve doubted it was his imagination, and knew that he was doomed to wait out a life sentence should Danny be guilty of murder because he was smitten. Even the doctor’s blush was a turn on for Steve.
“I am so fucked,” Steve muttered beneath his breath as he followed the doctor into the other room.
“What was that?” Danny turned around and frowned at him.
“Nothing.” Steve offered the doctor a smile and then he found himself wrestling with what appeared to be a fluffy monster. He grimaced when his failed attempts at pushing the beast off of himself lead to him getting a tongue bath.
For his part, Doctor Danny Williams was standing off to the side trying (and failing) to mask a huge grin. He stifled a laugh behind a fist when Conan (a very fitting name for the beast) managed to push Steve onto the floor and lick his face and neck.
“A little help here,” Steve said, turning his face just in time to miss getting a tongue in his mouth.
The dog was huge and heavy and Steve hoped to god that he didn’t belong to Danny because he doubted that he’d be able to as much as kiss Danny without the dog getting in the way and mauling him, or licking him to death.
“Conan,” Danny said, tugging at the dog’s collar and successfully removing him from Steve.
Steve wiped at his face as he stood and took the washcloth that Danny offered him once he’d gotten Conan calmed down with a dog biscuit and some whispered words of praise. “Like I said, he’s a little jumpy.”
Scowling at the doctor, who was giving him a mischievous grin, Steve washed his face and tossed the washcloth on the metal table that stood between him and the dog and Danny. He was grateful for the table.
“He yours?” Steve asked, eyeing the dog carefully.
Danny shook his head and Steve felt some of the tension leak from his body. “He belongs...uh belonged to Dr. Hesse.”
Suppressing a groan and fighting the urge not to scream at this revelation and how incriminating it was, Steve clenched and unclenched his fists. Danny had to know how guilty this made him look.
“Before you get your panties all in a bunch,” Danny said, holding a hand up, “I did not kill Dr. Hesse, but I did find Conan running down the street when I got to work this morning. He was, he was covered in blood and frantic. I checked him for injuries and cleaned him up --- look, there’s still blood on him, he---”
“Doctor Williams, step away from the dog,” Steve said, heart thumping hard in his chest as it became clear to him what had happened. He pulled his gun, pointing it toward where the doctor and the dog stood.
The crime scene had been a bloody mess, one of Dr. Hesse’s fingers had been missing, and it looked, on first inspection, as though he’d been struck over and over with a small dagger. Steve now knew otherwise. The man had been mauled to death by his own dog, the one that Danny was standing in front of, trying to keep his body between the gun that Steve held and the not so innocent dog. It was a vain effort as the dog far outweighed the doctor, and, even sitting on its haunches, was almost taller than the doctor.
“You can’t do this,” Danny said, voice pleading. “He didn't mean to do it. He’s not a monster.”
“How can you say that after what happened to his owner, what could have happened to you?” Steve asked.
“He was just upset when I found him,” Danny said. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“And with Dr. Hesse?” Steve asked, training the gun on the dog.
Danny swallowed and held his hands out in a supplicating manner. “I’m not sure what happened, but I do know that Dr. Hesse was working on an experimental drug that he was testing out on animals. It was all very unethical and I wanted nothing to do with it.”
God help him, Steve believed the doctor. “So, he came to you with this experimental drug, and asked you to test it out on some of your patients?”
Danny nodded, and reached behind him to pat the dog. “Yeah, he came here once and we did get into a heated argument, but I swear I didn’t kill him, though I did entertain the thought of testing the drug out on him.”
Steve put his gun away and ran a hand over his face. “Did you see anything else this morning?”
“Not this morning, but there have been other animals that have gone berserk around Dr. Hesse, most of them died a few days later. If I was a betting man, which I am not, I’d wager my practice that Dr. Hesse used his drug on them. I didn’t know anything was wrong until Conan came barrelling at me, barking like a wild animal. By the time I got him calmed down and cleaned up, I kind of just forgot about Dr. Hesse,” Danny said. “I didn’t know Dr. Hesse had died until you came and accused me of murdering the man. Like I said earlier, I didn’t like the man, but I did not murder him, and I don’t think that what happened was Conan’s fault.”
“Danny, Dr. Williams.” Steve sighed, unsure of how he was going to tell the good doctor that he was wrong about the dog. “I’ve seen the murder scene. At first I thought that Dr. Hesse had been stabbed multiple times with a short blade, but, after seeing Conan and the injuries on your own arms, I know that there was no blade involved. Whether he meant to or not, Conan killed Dr. Hesse.”
“You can’t take him,” Danny said, once more blocking the dog (or rather attempting to) from Steve. “I won’t let you.”
“Dr. Williams,” Steve said, voice soft. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take the dog.”
Danny snorted. “What are you going to do? Put him in the slammer? Lock him up? Throw away the key?” He was gesticulating wildly and Steve wanted to reach across the divide between them and pull Danny into his arms, but he couldn’t. “Chances are, that if Dr. Hesse used the same drug on him, he’ll die in a few day’s time anyway. Just let him stay with me.”
“I can’t do that. He will be put into a holding cell, yes,” Steve said. “Just until our investigation is through and --”
“And, what? You’ll have him put down?” Danny asked, chest heaving. “What happened wasn’t Conan’s fault. It was Dr. Hesse’s and that damn drug he was using.”
Steve closed his eyes. In all likelihood that is what would be done if the dog really had mauled Dr. Hesse to death, no matter the reason. “Your cooperation and help would be greatly appreciated,” Steve said, opening his eyes.
Shaking his head, Danny crossed his arms over his chest and stepped away from Conan. “You want him, you’re going to have to come get him. I won’t help you cage him and I won’t help you put him down, provided that whatever Dr. Hesse injected him with doesn’t kill him first.”
“Fine, I’ll have someone from animal control come and get him,” Steve said, turning and putting his hand on the knob. He didn’t want to see the look in Danny’s eyes, didn’t want to fight with the doctor.
“You wouldn’t,” Danny said. He placed a hand on Steve’s and Steve felt a spark of something, but quickly pushed it aside. Now was not the time or the place.
“I will do what I have to do,” Steve said.
“Fine, then take me in and book me,” Danny said, holding his hands out in front of Steve. “I hated Hesse, I wanted him dead because his little experiments were costing the lives of good, kind animals after turning them into monsters. Conan seems to be the exception, though. Maybe because he’s so big and Hesse didn’t adjust the drug dosage for his weight...” Danny trailed off, contemplative.
“I can’t arrest you for hating the man,” Steve said, pushing Danny’s hands aside. “Hell, from what I’ve learned through my investigation so far, I’ve grown to hate the man a little myself. Sounds like he was a regular mad scientist cum Dr. Frankenstein.”
“Don’t do this,” Danny said, blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Even if Conan did kill Hesse, I know he --”
“He meant to,” Steve said, cutting Danny off, knowing that it was true, that the dog, for whatever reason -- the drug or abuse or a combination of the two -- had meant to kill his owner.
“Are you seriously standing here accusing a dog of premeditated murder?” Danny asked.
It was an absurd idea, but Steve knew that the dog had killed Dr. Hesse, just as he knew that he wanted to get that dog away from Danny, no matter how harmless and docile he looked at the moment.
“I’m sure it wasn’t premeditated,” Steve said. “But that dog did kill his owner.”
“So, what? He should have to be put down for that?” Danny raked a hand through his hair.
“What do you think should be done?” Steve asked.
Danny paced the room, hands stuffed in the pockets of his white doctor’s coat, jaw working. He wheeled around and stuck a finger in Steve’s face. “Fine, I’ll help you with the dog, but you have to promise me not to put him down.”
“I can’t promise that,” Steve said, though he wanted to, for Danny’s sake. If what Danny was saying about experimental drugs making animals go berserk was true, maybe Conan wouldn’t have to be put down, but that was a big maybe.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny nodded once and then marched over to the dog. He bent to whisper something in the dog’s ear and the dog’s tail thumped once, then twice and it licked Danny’s cheek.
“Okay,” Danny said, straightening up. “Okay, I’ll...” he blinked back tears and Steve’s heart went out to the doctor, but he stood his ground. “I’ll help, but I want to be able to visit him and provide for him and I want to run a tox screen in addition to whatever tests your people run.”
“Fine,” Steve said. “How do you want to do this?”
“What kind of vehicle do you have?” Danny asked.
“A truck, why?” Steve did not like the direction this conversation was going in.
Smiling, Danny patted the dog on the head. “We’re going for a ride,” he said in a sing song voice.
The dog’s ears perked up, and, to Steve’s amazement, the dog appeared to grin. Danny hooked a leash onto the dog’s collar, and even though the dog was being perfectly calm at the moment, Steve gave them a wide berth as they headed for the door. He kept an eye on the doctor, and not just because Dr. Danny Williams had a fine ass. He wanted to be able to pull the other man out of the way should the dog attack him again.
“See, he’s perfectly fine,” Danny said, half turning to look at Steve. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, buddy?”
Steve would have to disagree with Danny’s assessment. He’d seen the ‘fly’ that the dog had ‘hurt’ and had seen evidence of the damage the dog could do on Danny’s arms. Maybe the dog was calm now, but it hadn’t been when it attacked Dr. Hesse and then Danny.
It was eerie and disconcerting how calm the dog was and how happy he looked sitting in the back of Steve’s truck, tongue lolling as Steve drove to headquarters. Conan hadn’t even barked at Tani and Lou when they’d walked past them, Steve shaking his head to let them know not to ask as he followed Danny out the door and to his own truck.
He called Junior while they were on their way and had him get a cell ready for the dog. He called Dr. Cunha as well, and, while she’d had many questions (and rightly so) she promised to meet him at headquarters to get the bloodwork so they could run the tests. Steve hoped, for Danny’s sake, that whatever the dog had been drugged with would not kill him. The doctor seemed to be attached to the huge dog and Steve would hate to see him hurt over this.
“Stop giving me that look,” Danny said, gesturing toward Steve’s face.
Frowning, Steve turned to look at the doctor. “What look? I wasn’t giving you a look. ”
Danny shook his head. “I know what a look looks like and you are most definitely giving me a look,” Danny insisted, motioning between them. “I’m not some delicate flower that’s going to wilt all over your upholstery, Steven, so you can stop looking at me like that.”
“How do you want me to look at you?” Steve asked, choosing to ignore Danny’s use of the name, Steven, and the man’s obvious ire over something that Steve thought was completely ridiculous. He did not have a look , and even if he did, it had nothing to do with thinking that Danny was some kind of delicate flower. A bit emotional and a little worked up about the dog, perhaps, but not a wilting flower.
Danny pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d rather that you not look at me at all right now, but rather at the road. You’re driving like a maniac. Did you even notice that the light was yellow back there?”
“Apparently I was too busy giving you a look to notice,” Steve said, gritting his teeth. He forced himself to loosen the tight grip he had on the wheel. He fought the urge to stick his tongue out at Danny who had raised an eyebrow at Steve’s apparent admission to having a look.
“I’m not driving like a maniac,” Steve added, making a show of signalling his next turn well in advance.
“Not now that you’ve got your eyes focused where they should be,” Danny said, settling back against his seat.
Before Steve could open his mouth to retort, Conan let out a woof and Danny turned around in his seat to pat the dog’s head. He smiled and whispered cutesy little praises to the dog. Steve pulled into his parking spot with much more care than he typically did and slammed out of the truck, Danny and the dog hot on his heels.
‘Figures that the dog would agree with the doctor,’ Steve thought.
Steve got the dog in a cell and had Dr. Cunho take blood to run her tests. He allowed Danny to join her in the lab and then he finally allowed himself to breathe.
“It doesn’t look like a man killing beast,” Junior said once the dust had settled and Dr. Cunho’s, and Danny’s tests had both reached the same conclusion. Conan had been given a cocktail of drugs that would have killed a smaller dog after they had run their course.
Further investigation revealed that Dr. Hesse had been conducting these experiments on animals that he’d adopted, or had found on the streets, for several months. Until Conan, none of them had survived. He’d kept meticulous notes on his work and Steve shuddered when he realized the implications of the man’s research, the scope of what he’d been planning to do. The man had truly been a mad scientist, and like Dr. Frankenstein, he’d been killed by one of his own creations.
Despite his misgivings, and worry for Danny, Steve did eventually release Conan into the vet’s care. And because the dog had killed someone, Steve checked in on them as often as he could, reasoning that it was his duty as an officer of the law.
One thing led to another, and, well, before he knew it, Steve was falling for Conan (who, the mauling of Dr. Hesse aside, really wouldn’t hurt a fly...lick it to death, maybe, but hurt it, no) almost as hard as he’d fallen for Danny. And then Danny and Conan were moving in and Steve's life was never the same.
Sitting on the couch, holding Danny after a tough day at work, Conan at their feet, the TV flickering in the background, Steve knew that he wouldn't want things to have turned out any other way. Sure, he'd have waited a life sentence for Danny had the man committed murder, but this was much better -- talk of adopting puggles and children, of marrying and making honest men of each other. Soothing out each other's rough patches. Making love on rainy days. Making out on the couch. It was all that Steve could have hoped for when he first set eyes on Dr. Williams, and more.