Work Text:
The first thing Steve hears when he steps out of the elevator that morning is Quinn’s voice. “Oh, no. No, no, absolutely not.”
“Why not?” someone asks, and that’s definitely Danny. From Quinn’s emphatic denials, Steve would have guessed that anyway, because there are not many people that would push a colleague they’ve only worked with for a few months quite that far on such an early morning. “He’s hot.”
That peaks Steve’s interest. He’s been walking the corridor – their office is very evidently not soundproofed, which is something to keep in mind if they’re ever under siege again – but he’s reached the point where he can push open the glass door to get into the main room. “Who’s hot?”
Danny whirls around like he’s been caught, but he recovers quick. He throws a hand in Steve’s direction in a gesture that speaks volumes of annoyance, like Steve should’ve known he’s being a terrible inconvenience by showing up to work on time. “You are.”
Way back when, this would have thrown Steve a little. Not after nine years. Periodically being dramatic about Steve’s supposed dashing looks is just one of those Danny things.
“Thanks, buddy.” Steve offers Danny the little carton tray of disposable coffee cups. Danny takes his without so much as a nod, like being hand-delivered his almond milk hazelnut latte with an entire Peep’s worth of sugar in it is just the natural state of things. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Steve says to Quinn. He takes his own coffee – black, because just the proximity to Danny’s monstrosity makes it taste sweet enough – and drops the tray on the tech table. “Didn’t know you’d be here so early.”
“That’s alright,” Quinn tells him drily. “I was regretting that decision anyway.”
Danny’s eyebrows fly up, like that honestly surprises him. He points both his coffee cup and his free hand at his own chest. “This is not about me, is it?”
“Of course it is,” Steve says, because in his experience, things like these usually are, and it’s always fun to claim that even when they aren’t.
Danny waves his coffee around a little more. The lid is the only thing that prevents them from having to dig up a mop. “What’d I do? All I did is tell her you’re handsome and single and free Friday night.”
“You were setting us up,” Quinn summarizes.
Steve’s always appreciated how deeply Danny cares, and that he’d do literally anything for the people he loves, no holds barred. Still, they should probably draw a line at light harassment of colleagues under the guise of procuring Steve a date. “That’s a little inappropriate, buddy. We’re at work.”
“Which is where many of the sexiest romances start,” Danny argues, as if he’s personally done statistical research on the subject. Steve wouldn’t entirely put it past him. “C’mon, you have to admit you two would be a great match. You’re both ex-military,” he says, like that doesn’t leave a dating pool of about seventeen million in the US alone. “You’re both pretty. You both like Top Gun.”
“We’re both into women,” Quinn adds, in a tone like she’s actually adding to Danny’s list of pros.
Both Steve and Danny stare at Quinn for a second, but she doesn’t elaborate. Danny shrugs. “Well, as long as you’re also into each other-”
Steve opens his mouth to tell Danny he should cut that out if he doesn’t want the office to become a very awkward place for everyone, but Quinn cuts him off in turn. “I’m a lesbian.”
Danny seems speechless for a second. His coffee hand finally stills. “Right,” he decides then. “Okay. I can see how that might be a problem.” He gives Steve an askance look, which doesn’t feel entirely fair, because he hasn’t even done anything. “Steve does have very womanly hands.”
Steve looks at his own hands. “What does that even mean?”
“Still no,” Quinn reiterates. “But maybe you should look at a new dating pool, Danny.”
The tilt of Danny’s coffee expresses skepticism. “What, women from the mainland? I don’t know if this guy has the patience to do long distance.”
“Hey,” Steve complains. Until he bought Catherine a ring and she moved to a different continent before he could even offer it to her, their relationship was pretty long and covered a lot of distance.
“No,” Quinn says, “men.” She plucks Danny’s coffee, of which he hasn’t taken a single sip so far that Steve has seen, from his again entirely frozen hand. She tastes it and pulls a face like she’s not happy about it but it will just have to do. “I happen to know you think Steve is hot.”
“That’s not an opinion,” Danny protests, the moment he’s recovered from blinking in shock at his suddenly empty hand. He puts it to work waving expansively at Steve. “It’s just-” He waves a little more furiously, like that’s going to make the words ‘objective fact’ appear out of thin air.
Quinn nods, as if they’re in agreement. She leans into Danny conspiratorially, every signal yelling that she’s about to tell him a secret. “You know, I have it on good authority that Steve is handsome and single and free Friday night.”
“Did you just set us up?” Danny asks, of Quinn’s retreating back. She’s turned and is headed for her office, so Danny turns to Steve for a more captive audience. “Did she just set us up?”
“Seems like it,” Steve agrees. Every day, Quinn manages to impress him all over again.
“What now?” Danny looks down at his hands, as if really noticing them for the first time. Hardly likely, considering how present they are in any situation that involves any part of Danny. “I’ve been robbed.”
Steve sips his own coffee. It would be a shame to waste all the hard work Quinn just did by letting this golden opportunity pass him by, so he doesn’t. He leans his hip against the tech table, levels Danny with a look, and skips past the pretense that Quinn’s suggestion materialized out of thin air. The air’s been thick enough to choke on for months now, if not years, and they both know it. “Well,” he says, “I am handsome and single and free Friday night, or so I keep hearing.”
Danny stills and seems to consider that for the span of a single breath, and then there’s a pat to Steve’s arm, as if Danny still needs to nudge him to get his attention. As if Danny ever needed to do that. “You know what? You heard wrong,” Danny says. “You’re not free Friday night anymore. Pick me up at seven.”
“Pick you up?” Danny’s been staying on his couch for months now. The only feasible way Steve could pick him up is to physically lift him off the floor. “Pick you up where?”
“I don’t know, drive around the block. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
He keeps looking at Danny, but he raises his voice enough to be heard through the office’s non-soundproofed walls. “Quinn, why’d you do this to me?”
“Bring me drinkable coffee next time,” she shouts back. That’s fair.
“I told you there’s too much sugar in there,” Steve tells Danny, who pokes a very serious finger in his direction and ominously says, “Friday at seven.”
“Friday at seven,” Steve dutifully echoes, which seems to reassure Danny enough that with a last warning glare – what does he think Steve is going to do, forget to be home? – he turns on his heel to head for the office coffee maker. Steve makes a mental note to add sugar to Five-0’s next requisition list for the Governor’s office.
A productive morning, all in all, and they haven’t even started work yet.