Work Text:
It's the middle of the night, nearly two weeks after the kidnapping. Steve's eyes open before he understands someone is in the room with him. Jesus. He's slipping; he could be dead already. He should've listened first, while he slid his fingers toward the Ka-Bar under the cover of the light blanket.
It's Danny. He can tell by the way he breathes, too fast and too deep for anyone who's a threat. Besides, he can smell him. Even without the hair gel, there's his deodorant – no sane operator would consider wearing Axe. Although he has to admit that tonight it wouldn't matter. Danny's sweated through whatever he coated himself with, poor bastard.
Steve can hardly fault him for that. The man's been through hell. And whatever brought him to Steve's bedroom can't be something good. There's a moment of chagrin. Of all possible times, he's disappointed now? Apparently there's no escape from the compass needle of hope. He rolls his eyes, knowing as he does it that it's one more thing he's absorbed from his partner.
"Babe? You awake?"
The whisper is so hesitant, so tentative, that he knows Danny's gonna rabbit if he answers. For whatever reason, Danny doesn't want him to be awake. Steve never wanted it like that. For all the nights Steve's hoped Danny would come into his bedroom, tentative was never on the menu. He had those stupid fantasies where Danny would come swaggering in and bust his chops. "Yo, buddy, you invited me over, you gonna put out? Because if not, I got places to see and people to do."
Steve would give him anything, do anything to keep him. Whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. Christ, had he really said that in the kitchen the other night? Yeah. He did. And he meant it. But in his dreams, when Danny would come in, he never dreamed that Danny would . . . be sad.
The blanket lifts. Danny's hard body slides in between him and escape. Not that he would, if he could.
"Steve." Danny's lips press against his own. It's too hard for love, too soft for anger. It's . . . nowhere. Danny isn't really here; it's only his pain that dropped by in the middle of the night. "Help me."
"Baby," says Steve, and he's ridiculous. That's no surprise. "C'mon."
They're pressed so tightly together that Steve thinks they could be one person. Except he knows that when they rip apart, it'll only hurt him. If he's lucky or smart, he'll have given Danny enough to walk away whole. Steve's never given away enough of himself to spit at anyway. Not to his dad, not to Mary, not to the United States Navy. It's like he saved it all for this moment, for Danny. He wants Danny to have everything.
In the morning, neither of them say anything. They go to work and they do their jobs. That's okay. That was the idea, anyway. Danny woke up some time during the night and left him. He seems less beaten, and that's all that counts. Steve would give his life to make Danny happy. What difference does a few minutes of skin time make?
Except . . . Danny comes back.
In the dead of night, when Steve most hopes for and least expects him. He's waited for so many months, why now? But it's plain for anyone to see that Danny's broken, and all Steve can do to fix him is suck his cock and brush the hair away from his eyes, as if Danny's seeing him anyway. He doesn't know what's behind Danny's eyes, and he doesn't want to know. The last thing Steve needs to know is that, to Danny, he looks oddly like Rachel.
For some reason, Danny keeps coming to his bed. Steve's not sure he can give any more than he has. He's lost. He got lost when Danny begged Steve to fuck him, and it was everything -- everything Steve ever wanted, except so much less. He thought he could do this as long as Danny needed it, but he can't. The hot clench of Danny's ass burns him up inside, and when he shouts his orgasm against Danny's neck, and Danny comes into his hand, he knows he can't do this any more. There's nothing left.
He shifts onto his back in the darkness, letting Danny curl up against his side, one knee over his legs. "Are you going to stay tonight?" he asks idly, knowing that he shouldn't, not caring.
"You son of a bitch!" The snarl echoes in Steve's bones, as does the shock of a fist banging against his sternum. He gasps as Danny rages, "Now you ask if I'm going to stay? I can stay if you can fuck me like I'm a girl, nothing else will do? I oughta geld you!" A firm hand clamps around his balls.
"Hey! Careful!"
Danny's leg, followed by the rest of his weight, presses Steve down into the mattress. He's no lightweight. "Am I going to stay tonight? What do you think? For that matter, who the fuck do you think I am? I have never yet figured that out. All this time, you never say boo, shit or howdy about the fact that I keep coming here in the middle of the night looking for you!" He's growling now. "It'd be different if I ever fucking found you!"
Now Steve's pissed, too. "Hell, I don't know! Maybe it's because there's never a word in the light of day! You haul ass out of my bed like it's on fire! I'm just your -- I don't think I'm even a dirty little secret! I don't matter that much!"
"I have always wanted your ass, and if you weren't the straightest leading edge of The Few, The Proud, The Goddamn SEALs, maybe you'd wake up and look around you!"
That catches his attention like nothing else could. "Just my ass?"
Whoa, Danny's angry now. He can tell by the snarling, inarticulate noises. Possibly the neighbors can tell, too; the windows are open. After all the time Steve thought he meant nothing, that means something. He pushes at Danny's shoulder so he's leaning back a little, but not so far back that Steve's jewels are endangered, and smiles. He can feel it on the inside, the way his eyes go soft and happy. "You're not making any sense, D."
"Oh no! You don't get to do that. I am allowed to not make sense right now."
"I didn't know." He rubs the pad of his thumb across Danny's cheekbone. "All I ever wanted was for you to stay."
"You -- what?" It's been a while since Steve's seen anyone do a real double-take. The grip on his balls loosens, and slowly the backs of Danny's knuckles coast up the ridges of Steve's abs. Eventually fingertips follow Steve's jaw like Danny's searching for the truth through touch, not quite believing what he's hearing or seeing. Danny props himself up on an elbow. "Then why didn't you . . ."
So they've both been a little messed up.
"I'm doing it now, okay? We'll do whatever you want." That was always a given. "And if you need revenge, you'll have to take it out on my ass." His smile widens. He can't wait. "You're gonna be here when I wake up, right?"
"Damned right I am, and you better not hog the blanket, you, you giant heffalump."
He can't help the funny noise that comes out. "Heffalump?" That's Danny. At last. And Danny's got to be nearly speechless if he hauls out Winnie The Pooh . . . in bed.
"Shut up."
"It's my blanket." But it isn't, not any more. Now Steve knows it's their blanket. He pulls Danny closer. Everything else they'll work out in the morning. There's plenty of time.
They'll do it together, and they'll both be whole.