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Danny had told himself, very firmly, that this Christmas would be fine… the first one in Hawaii after a year in this pineapple paradise.
It was his year with Grace. That alone should have made everything perfect. No fights with Rachel, no flights, no rushed phone calls across time zones, no trying not to look too disappointed when she showed him what Santa brought her somewhere else. Just the two of them. Hawaii. Sun. Ocean. A very non traditional Christmas, but still theirs.
And mostly, it was.
Except for the part where Grace sat on the edge of the bed that morning, swinging her legs, staring at the little paper Santa taped to the window like it had personally betrayed her.
“There’s no snow here,” she said quietly.
Danny paused mid coffee sip. He had known something was off that morning. He just hadn’t been ready for how small her voice sounded.
“Well,” he tried, going for light, “that’s the bonus of being in Hawaii. No hypothermia.”
She did not smile.
“I always make a snowman,” she said. “Every Christmas. Either with you in New Jersey or with Mommy in England. She always helps me with the scarf.”
Danny sat beside her. He already smelled sunscreen, because Hawaii refused to acknowledge December in any meaningful way.
“I know, kiddo,” he said gently. “Next year, when you go back to England with Mom, you’ll make the biggest snowman ever. With… I don’t know. A fancy British hat or something.”
Grace sighed. The deep, dramatic sigh of a child deeply wronged by geography.
“I don’t want next year,” she said. “I want this year.”
That one landed.
Danny understood more than he wanted to admit. Christmas was supposed to look a certain way. Cold air. Sweaters. Trees that didn’t belong on a postcard. Hawaii at Christmas really felt like a very nice mistake.
He kissed the top of her head. “How about we still make today special, okay? Pancakes. Beach. We could go see Uncle Steve later?”
That got him a tiny smile. Grace adored Steve in the way only kids did. Completely. Unquestioningly.
It helped that Steve adored her right back.
Danny tried not to think too hard about that. He really did. But somewhere along the way, his stupid partner had managed to get under his skin too, whether Danny liked it or not.
By the afternoon, Grace was in better spirits, distracted by Steve’s beach, shells, tide pools, and the sheer novelty of Santa hats in ninety degree weather. After a while, Danny went back to the house to grab more water and sunscreen, already rehearsing what he was going to say to Steve later about maybe being a little less reckless with the surf today, because Grace was watching.
He stepped out onto the lanai and stopped.
Down on the sand, just past the stairs, Steve was crouched low, bare feet digging into the beach, sleeves rolled up. Grace knelt opposite him, tongue sticking out in concentration.
Between them stood a sandman.
A very deliberate sandman.
Its body was rounded and smoothed, three careful sections stacked just right. A crooked, carrot shaped shell for a nose. Smaller shells pressed into place for buttons. And perched proudly on top.
A red Santa hat.
Steve held out another shell. “Okay,” he said seriously, like this was a mission briefing. “This one goes here. Buttons need to line up or it’ll look weird.”
Grace giggled and took it from him, pressing it into the sand with all the care in the world.
“It looks like snow,” she said happily. “But not cold.”
“Exactly,” Steve said. “Best of both worlds.”
Danny’s chest did something very inconvenient.
Steve looked relaxed in a way Danny rarely saw. Not commander relaxed. Not post case relaxed. This was… domestic. Easy. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Grace laughed, loud and unguarded, and Steve smiled at her like it was the easiest thing he’d done all day.
Danny leaned against the railing, unnoticed, and watched.
This man. This stupid, wonderful man.
Of course Steve had found a way to quietly fix it without making a big deal out of it. No speeches. No credit taken. Just sand, shells, and a Santa hat he must have pulled out of a drawer somewhere.
Grace looked up and spotted Danny.
“Danno!” she called. “Look! Uncle Steve made me a snowman!”
“Sandman,” Steve corrected, laughing.
Danny smiled at them.
Steve glanced over his shoulder, suddenly sheepish. “Uh. Hope that’s okay. She said she missed snowmen and I figured…”
Danny raised a hand. “If you apologize right now, I will actually push you into the ocean.”
Steve blinked. “What?”
“It’s perfect,” Danny said, and meant it more than he was comfortable admitting. “Thank you.”
Something warm flickered in Steve’s eyes. He ducked his head. “Yeah. Sure.”
Grace ran over, grabbed Danny’s hand, and dragged him closer. “We need arms!” she announced. “Snowmen need arms.”
Sandmen too, apparently.
Steve stood and brushed sand from his knees. He moved closer to Danny without thinking about it. Danny noticed. He always noticed.
They found driftwood. They argued briefly about proportions. Grace supervised sternly.
When it was done, the sandman stood proudly between them, absurd and perfect, wearing a Santa hat in the middle of a Hawaiian beach.
Grace stepped back, hands on her hips. “Best Christmas ever,” she declared.
She chose that moment to hug Steve fiercely around the waist.
“Thank you, Uncle Steve! I love you!”
Steve crouched down to hug her back, his heart doing something strange at her words.
“I love you too, Gracie.”
She kissed his cheek and ran off laughing. “I’m gonna find more shells to make him a necklace!”
Steve stayed crouched for a moment, watching her go, looking quietly wrecked by it.
Danny swallowed and glanced at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve said softly, not looking at him.
Danny nodded, then gestured helplessly at the scene. “You’re… really good with her.”
Steve shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “She’s easy to love.”
Danny looked at him. Really looked.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She is.”
Their eyes met for a moment. Steve stood, not breaking the gaze, and took a small step closer.
Grace came back then, hands on her hips, inspecting the sandman like a true artist.
“It needs a name,” she announced, breaking the spell.
“A name,” Steve repeated solemnly. “That’s important.”
Danny crossed his arms. “Please don’t say something embarrassing. This thing is going to be on the internet the second Steve takes a picture.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” Grace said. “It’s Sandy Claus.”
Steve snorted before he could stop himself.
Danny sighed. “Of course it is.”
Grace beamed, entirely pleased with herself, then looked between the two men. “We should take a picture.”
Steve pulled out his phone. Danny stood closer than he meant to. Grace squeezed herself between them, sun warm and grinning. Steve’s shoulder brushed Danny’s, and instead of stepping back, he shifted closer. He rested his arm loosely behind Grace, closing the space between them until their sides were pressed together. It felt deliberate. It felt easy.
Click.
Grace immediately grabbed the phone to inspect the result. “Uncle Steve, your smile looks weird.”
“That’s just my face,” Steve said defensively.
“It looks like you’re happy,” she said, very seriously.
Danny bit the inside of his cheek.
A few minutes later, Grace wandered off toward the waterline, collecting more shells, leaving the two of them standing there with the sandman, the ocean, and far too much quiet.
Steve shifted his weight. “She okay?”
Danny nodded. “Yeah. She was just… missing the snow. Missing how Christmas is supposed to be.”
Steve looked back at the sandman. “Supposed to be is overrated.”
Danny huffed a soft laugh. “That might be the most you thing you’ve ever said.”
Steve glanced at him, something unreadable in his eyes. “I just didn’t want her to be sad.”
“I know,” Danny said, voice rough. “That’s kind of the problem.”
Steve frowned slightly. “Problem?”
“You show up,” Danny said quietly. “You fix things you’re not even responsible for. And you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
Steve’s expression softened. “Danny… being here. With you. With her. It feels…”
“Normal?” Danny offered.
Steve nodded. “Good. Really good.”
Danny’s heart kicked painfully. “You don’t get to say stuff like that so casually.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me feel things.”
Steve smiled, small and unapologetic. “Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No,” Steve admitted.
He reached out slowly, giving Danny time to stop him, and rested his hand at Danny’s waist.
Danny didn’t stop him.
The kiss was soft, careful, real. Salt in the air. Sun on their skin. Steve’s hand warm and steady, like it had always belonged there.
When they pulled back, Danny laughed under his breath.
“Well. That’s new.”
Steve smiled, small and almost shy.
“Not bad, though.”
Grace’s voice floated back toward them.
“Why are you standing like that?”
Danny groaned. Steve just grinned.
“Steve got sand in his eye,” Danny called back. “I was helping him.”
Grace frowned at them, considering this carefully.
“Okay,” she said at last, clearly not convinced. “But don’t mess up Sandy Claus. I’m still working on him.”
She turned back to the sandman, then paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder at them again, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her mouth, before crouching down to her shells.
“Really the best Christmas ever,” she murmured to herself.
Steve leaned in again, brushing a quick, softer kiss against Danny’s mouth this time, like a promise.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured.
Danny smiled, heart full and entirely screwed.
“Merry Christmas, Steve.”
And finally, Christmas made sense.