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The thing about Christmas, Danny decided, was that it should not involve gunshots.
Or running.
Or Steve saying “It’s probably nothing.”
Which, historically, always meant it was absolutely something, and usually something involving explosions, kidnapping, international spies, or other festive seasonal delights Steve McGarrett seemed to attract like mistletoe attracts drunk uncles.
But here they were.
Running down the street in the fading dusk, weaving between holiday crowds, chasing a suspect who had shot at a mall Santa and then sprinted out a service exit like a deranged reindeer on the lam.
Danny was breathing hard. Steve, naturally, was gliding like an Olympian.
“You know,” Danny panted, “I distinctly remember agreeing to shopping for lights. Not sprinting through Oahu chasing a Christmas criminal. How is this my life. How.”
“You love it,” Steve called back.
“I love nothing about this.”
“You love me,” Steve corrected, grinning over his shoulder.
Danny nearly tripped.
Because they did not talk about that.
Not out loud. Not directly.
Not even now, even though they lived practically glued together: one house, two coffee mugs, one dog, two idiots, zero labels. Ten years of navigating a line so thin the friction alone could have started a fire.
“I tolerated you,” Danny snapped, voice cracking slightly.
Steve didn’t hear the crack. Or pretended not to.
They cornered the alley behind a shipping warehouse just as the suspect skidded on loose gravel, swore, stumbled.
And the whole world blurred.
For Danny, everything slowed: the tumble, the metal glint, the object slipping from the man’s hand, bouncing once, twice.
A grenade.
“STEVE !!”
The explosion was a gut punch of heat and sound.
Danny flew backwards, slammed into a dumpster, pain ripping through his shoulder. His ears rang. His vision warped.
He tried to scream Steve’s name again but no sound came out.
All he could think was: Not again. Not this time. Not him.
Then everything went dark.
The first thing he heard when consciousness returned was shouting.
His name. Over and over.
“Danny, Danny, stay with me, please stay with me”
Then hands on him, frantic, rough, terrified.
And a voice cracked wide open.
Steve.
Danny blinked up into blurry blue eyes, breath shallow.
“Hey,” he croaked. “Why’re you yelling? Use your inside voice. Christmas and all.”
Steve let out a broken laugh that sounded half like a sob.
“You were out,” he whispered. “You weren’t moving. Your pulse, I thought”
Danny swallowed, throat dry. “’M fine,” he rasped. “Just, little firecracker.”
“That was a grenade.”
“A festive one.”
Steve leaned over him, pressing his forehead to Danny’s temple like he needed physical proof of life.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmured.
“You say that like it’s new.”
Steve pulled back, eyes fierce.
“No. This was different.”
Something in his tone made Danny still.
Different.
Danny wanted to ask, but sirens grew nearer, and medics swarmed, and the moment slipped like water between fingers.
By the time the noise faded and the motion finally stopped, the chaos had softened into something quieter.
Hours later, Danny lay in a hospital bed with his right arm in a sling, two cracked ribs, and a concussion mild enough to insist he felt “totally fine,” which of course meant he could barely keep his eyes open without the room tilting.
Steve hadn’t left the chair once.
Not for food.
Not for the bathroom.
Not even when a nurse said, “Sir, visiting hours”
“He stays,” Danny muttered, then glared until she retreated.
Now the lights were low. Rain started tapping at the window. Somewhere down the hall, someone’s IV beeped.
Danny watched Steve watching him.
“What,” Danny said softly, because if he didn’t speak, he’d drown in the weight of the silence.
“You almost died,” Steve said.
“Wasn’t the plan,” Danny murmured.
“But it keeps almost happening,” Steve snapped, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t lose you.”
Danny blinked.
Not the usual “I don’t want anything to happen to you”.
Not “you’re my partner”.
But.
“I can’t lose you.”
“Steve,” Danny said carefully, “you didn’t lose me. I’m right here. Alive, annoying, deeply opiniated”
“Danny,” Steve whispered, and his voice shook. “I need you to take this seriously.”
Danny shut up.
Steve stood, then paced once, twice, like he was building momentum for something monumental.
Finally, he stopped at the foot of the bed.
“I thought the explosion killed you,” he said. “And in that moment, there was this… drop. Like something inside me just” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Stopped. Like if you had died, I wouldn’t know how to keep going. Not really.”
Danny’s mouth went dry. “You’re being dramatic,” he whispered.
Steve shook his head. “No. I’m being honest.”
Danny felt the room shrink and expand all at once.
“That’s… a lot, Steven,” he said carefully.
“I know,” Steve murmured. “But almost losing you. It made me realize how long I’ve been pretending things are fine when they’re not.”
“Pretending what things?” Danny asked, breath catching.
Steve exhaled.
The kind of exhale someone gives before jumping into deep water.
“Us,” he said.
Danny froze.
“Steve… there isn’t…” He faltered, shook his head. “We’re, we’re”
Steve watched him falter, something in his expression shifting, resolve hardening where hesitation had been.
“You’re the first thought I have in the morning,” Steve said softly. “And the last one at night. And every damn time something happens to you, it feels like the ground goes out from under me.”
Danny swallowed hard. “Steve…”
“No, let me say it,” Steve insisted, voice shaking just enough to make Danny’s ribs tighten.
“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. And today, when you hit that dumpster and went still, I realized I’ve wasted so much time pretending we were just partners.”
Danny felt everything inside him stall.
His heart. His breath. His brain. The smart ass part of his soul that usually had a witty comeback ready.
All gone.
“What do you want from me?” Danny whispered, scared to breathe wrong, scared to break this fragile truth hanging between them.
“Everything,” Steve said quietly. “And nothing you’re not ready to give.”
Danny closed his eyes for a heartbeat. “Why now?” he asked. “Why tonight?”
“Because,” Steve said, stepping closer, “I almost didn’t get another chance to tell you.”
Danny opened his eyes.
Steve looked wrecked. Open. Terrified. Hopeful...
And Danny felt something swing wide open in his chest.
“You’re an idiot,” he whispered.
Steve’s face fell a little. “Danny”
Danny held up his good hand, motioning him closer. “You’re an idiot,” he repeated, softer. “Because I love you too. And I have been losing my mind waiting for you to figure your stuff out.”
Steve froze.
Danny blinked at him.
“Yeah,” Danny said, voice shaking. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you so stupidly, so deeply, for so long I don’t even remember what it feels like not to be.”
Steve made a sound, soft, strangled, disbelieving.
Then he sat on the edge of the bed like the floor might vanish beneath him.
“You love me,” Steve whispered.
“Painfully,” Danny confirmed. “Disgustingly. Against my will.”
A tiny, breathless laugh escaped Steve. And then he took Danny’s hand.
For a second, neither of them moved. They just looked at each other, really looked, like they were both trying to memorize the fact that this was real, that it had finally been said out loud.
Steve’s thumb brushed slowly over Danny’s knuckles, tentative at first, then sure, like he was grounding himself as much as Danny.
They didn’t say anything else.
They didn’t need to.
Steve stayed there, fingers curled around Danny’s, both of them holding on like letting go would undo everything they’d just admitted.
Danny was released the next morning with strict instructions about rest, ice packs, no heroics, and absolutely no yelling.
So naturally, the first thing he did upon getting home was...yell. “YOU PUT UP LIGHTS WITHOUT ME?”
Steve winced. “I went home to grab you clean clothes. You were out cold. In my defense, I thought you’d like it.”
Danny froze for half a second. Then: “You still put blue next to red.”
Steve opened his mouth to argue, then saw Danny wobble slightly and immediately switched gears.
“Nope. Couch. Now.”
“I am fine”
“Couch.”
Danny grumbled all the way to the living room but hobbled over and sat because, well, he hurt everywhere and Steve was using that voice, the one that made Danny feel like fighting back was illegal.
Eddie curled against his hip immediately, whining softly.
Danny stroked Eddie’s head. “I’m okay, buddy. Just a little… exploded.”
Steve set down a tray: coffee, toast, fruit, and painkillers arranged with ridiculous precision.
Danny stared. “You made me breakfast.”
“Yes.”
“You made me healthy breakfast.”
“Yes.”
“Steven.”
Danny leaned forward, eyes narrow.
“What did you do?”
Steve blinked. “What?”
“This,” Danny gestured at the tray. “This level of care. It’s new.”
Steve swallowed. “You got blown up.”
“Still,” Danny said. “Feels like a lot.”
Steve exhaled, shoulders dropping a fraction. “I just, I didn’t want to screw up today.”
Danny sat back, studying him, then smirked. “You’re very jumpy this morning.”
“Because you were nearly blown up!”
“And now you’re making me vitamins? Very suspicious.”
Steve ran a hand down his face. “Just eat, please.”
Danny did. And he watched Steve while he did.
The man kept glancing over. Checking his breathing. Watching his posture. Looking at him like he was some miracle he didn’t know how to hold.
Danny felt warmth crawl through his ribs.
Real warmth.
Not the pain.
The other kind.
For a little while, it felt almost normal. Comfortable. Easy in a way their lives rarely allowed.
Breakfast went quiet. Steve finally stopped hovering long enough to sit, close but not touching, like they were both afraid to move too fast and scare something fragile away.
They didn’t get twelve hours of peace.
Not even eight.
HPD called.
The suspect had been identified as part of a small cell planning multiple attacks around holiday events, including one that night at Magic Island.
Steve went rigid.
Danny sighed dramatically. “Of course,” he muttered. “Santa brings presents, Hawaii brings bombs.”
“You’re not coming,” Steve said instantly.
Danny blinked once. “Excuse me?”
“You are injured.”
“And you are emotionally compromised.”
“What, I am not...”
Danny pointed at him with his good hand.
“You nearly lost me yesterday, and you confessed your undying love last night, which was very romantic, ten out of ten, but you are in no condition to go fight another bomber alone.”
Steve bristled. “I won’t be alone.”
“You won’t be you. That’s the problem.”
“I can do my job.”
“Not if your brain is going DannyDannyDanny every five seconds.”
Steve opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Then sighed.
“I still have to go,” he said.
Danny nodded. “I know.”
“I need you to stay here. Rest. Be safe.”
“You know I can’t promise that.”
“Danny.”
“I’ll be careful,” Danny compromised. “And I’ll be on comms.”
Steve hesitated.
Then he stepped forward, cupped Danny’s jaw with a hand so gentle it made Danny’s pulse stutter.
“Please,” Steve whispered. “Stay safe.”
Danny leaned into the touch, just barely, but enough.
“Come back to me,” he said quietly.
Steve swallowed. “I will.”
The operation went sideways immediately.
The bomber wasn’t at Magic Island.
He was in a van racing toward the marina.
Steve followed in the Camaro.
Danny listened over comms, heart pounding, breath shallow.
“Steve, back off,” Danny warned. “He’s not driving like someone planning to detonate at a crowd. He’s driving like someone planning to”
“To ditch it,” Steve finished. “Yeah. I see it.”
The van blew through a stop sign.
“Steve,” Danny said, sharper now. “You don’t know what he’s rigged. If he dumps it in the water”
“I know,” Steve said. Too calm. Too focused. “I’ve got eyes on him.”
The tires screeched.
The van fishtailed, clipped a barrier, tore toward the docks.
“Steve, do not follow him onto the pier,” Danny said. “You corner him, HPD is two minutes out”
“I don’t have two minutes.”
Gunshots cracked over the comms.
“Steve?” Danny said immediately. “Steve, talk to me.”
The van slammed sideways. Metal screamed.
Danny heard Steve swear, breath hitched, the sound of boots hitting pavement.
“He’s running,” Steve said. “Bomb’s still live.”
“Steve, wait, Steve, wait for backup,” Danny said, words tumbling now. “I’m serious. You hear me? McGarrett, answer me.”
Shouting.
A scuffle.
Then Steve’s voice again, strained.
“Danny...” The word cut off in a rush of wind and water.
A splash.
“McGARRETT, STOP!” someone yelled distantly, the voice rough, familiar enough that Danny’s stomach dropped. Lou.
Danny’s heart jolted hard at the sound, sharp and sudden, like missing a step in the dark.
Gunshots echoed.
Then another splash.
“Steve!” Danny shouted into the comm. “Steve, answer me. Steve, come on, talk to me.”
Nothing.
“Steve?” His voice hitched. “Hey. Hey, no. No, you don’t get to check out right now. You hear me? You don’t get to do this to me.”
Silence.
Danny swallowed hard, breath coming too fast.
“Say something,” he said, lower now, like volume might help. “Anything. Yell at me. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me to shut up. Just, just breathe, okay? Just stay on the line.”
Static.
Danny closed his eyes for half a second. Opened them again.
“Steve, I swear to God,” he said, voice breaking at the edges, “if you’re messing with me right now, I will never forgive you. So don’t. Don’t you dare.”
Only static.
Danny didn’t even think. He grabbed his keys and ran.
He didn’t care that he was injured.
He didn’t care that he was disobeying orders.
He didn’t care about anything except the thought hammering through his skull:
I am not losing him tonight.
Steve’s truck roared to life.
“Steve,” Danny said into the comm as he pulled into traffic. “Okay, not funny. You scare me half to death and now you go quiet? Pick up.”
Nothing.
“Don’t do this,” he snapped, gripping the wheel harder. “You do not get to go radio silent after that speech. Answer me.”
Static.
He stabbed at the channel switch, then grabbed his phone, jamming it between shoulder and ear.
“McGarrett,” he barked into voicemail. “You listen to me. You get your ass back on this line right now or when I get there, I am going to make you regret every stupid decision you’re making.”
He ended the call and immediately dialed again.
“Come on,” Danny said into the ringing line. Voicemail. “Answer your damn phone. This is not optional.”
He cursed and switched to Lou.
“Lou,” he said sharply. “Pick up.” Voicemail.
“Great,” Danny muttered. “Fantastic teamwork.”
He swerved around a truck, heart hammering, breath tight in his chest.
“Okay,” he said, forcing control back into his voice. “Okay. If you hear me, you stay put. You wait for backup like a normal human being for once in your life.”
Silence.
Danny dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched.
“Steve,” he said, lower now, sharper. “I am on my way. And if you die before I get there, I will hunt you down and kill you myself. You hear me? Do not make me bury you.”
The words shook, just a little.
Traffic blurred. Pain blurred. The world narrowed to asphalt and ringing lines and the terrible, unbroken quiet on the other end.
By the time Danny reached the marina, emergency lights were already slicing through the dark.
Smoke curled into the air.
The van was half submerged at the rocky edge of the water.
The suspect was sprawled unconscious nearby, cuffed, unmoving.
And Steve. Steve was nowhere Danny could see.
His heart slammed to a stop.
“STEVE!” he screamed, stumbling toward the water. “STEVE!”
No answer.
Just the black surface of the harbor, rippling quietly, like nothing had happened at all.
Hands grabbed Danny’s shoulders before he could go any farther.
“Danny,”
Lou.
Danny spun on him, wild eyed. “Where is he.”
Lou didn’t answer right away. His grip tightened. “He went in after the guy,” Lou said finally. “Bomb was already in the water. He stayed under longer than we liked.”
The words landed heavy. Final.
“Where,” Danny demanded.
Lou jerked his chin toward the far end of the dock.
Danny saw him then. Steve was sitting on the concrete, soaked to the skin, hunched forward, coughing hard as a medic wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. His hands were shaking. His chest was heaving like he’d fought the ocean itself.
Alive.
Danny’s knees nearly gave out.
He was moving before his brain caught up.
He ran.
Slipped.
Nearly fell.
He dropped in front of Steve, grabbed his face with both hands like he needed proof.
“Are you insane?” Danny yelled, voice breaking. “You jump into the water after a bomb and then you don’t answer your comm? Do you have any idea what you just did to me? Do you”
Steve surged forward and kissed him.
Hard.
Desperate.
Alive.
Danny froze, then melted, gripping Steve’s shoulders, trembling with adrenaline and terror and the sick relief of still having him here.
When Steve finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against Danny’s.
“I’m okay,” Steve whispered hoarsely. “I’m here.”
Danny exhaled a broken, shaking breath. “Don’t you ever,” he whispered, “ever scare me like that again.”
Steve laughed weakly. “No promises.”
Danny almost punched him.
Almost.
Instead, he grabbed Steve’s soaked shirt and kissed him again.
-