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It’s raining so hard that Steve is frowning fifteen minutes into it that his lawn furniture is going to be all over his yard by morning. Which isn’t a big deal, or wouldn’t have been, except he can barely walk out to the adirondack chairs to drink his morning coffee without his side stitching up, and he definitely can’t run around his yard rearranging cast aside furniture.
“Do you want me to go collect it,” Catherine asks, curling her hand over his shoulder. “I can just run out and--”
“Nah, don’t worry about it Cath,” he says, turning to face her with a small smile. “No sense going out in the rain.”
She follows him too closely as he makes it over to the couch and he bites back the urge to tell her to quit mothering him. “I really don’t mind.”
“Do you think collecting my lawn furniture makes up for leaving me on a lie,” he asks, arching an eyebrow at her. She bites her lip and looks away and he feels his heart clench in his chest a bit. “Sorry.”
“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” she says, sitting not next to him on the couch but in front of him, on the coffee table. She reaches over and takes his hands in hers. “I know I lied to you. I know how you feel about that Steve. And I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but I am, I hope you believe that.”
“Listen, it’s been months okay,” he says, covering her hand with his. “I really am not mad any more. But thank you for apologizing.”
She smiles slightly and sits up straighter. “Did you get a new personality alongside the liver, Steve? Of course you’re still mad. I lied to you.”
He laughs. “You want me to be?”
“No of course not,” she says, shaking her head. “Of course not, it’s killed me these past few months knowing that you probably hated me. But I know you, Steve.” She meets his eyes. “I know how you feel about lying.”
“Hate takes a lot of energy, Cath,” he says, softly, staring at her tiny hands in his. He imagines them with the ring he still keeps -- better hidden, now, not easily stumbled over by anyone that doesn’t know where to look-- on her left hand ring finger. His thumb traces over where it would have been, the diamond small but perfect, just exactly what she would have wanted. “I don’t have so much of that to spare these days.”
The thunder is loud and rattles the windows and it makes Catherine flinch. “Steve.”
“I mean it. I’m not mad,” he says. “I’ve been reevaluating my life, what with all this spare time I’ve been forced to take for myself.” He laughs to himself, glancing up at her. “And I just really don’t want to waste another second being pissed at you. Feeling hurt. Wondering what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t enough. What about me is so… easily tossed aside in your eyes.”
“No,” she says fervently, shaking her head and grasping his hand tighter. “No, it wasn’t like that, Steve, it was never like that. It was never you, it was me. It was… I was adrift, I was… I was lost without the Navy. I was... I had to find my place.”
“Without me.”
“I had to find my place for me ,” she says, her hands so strong and sure in his, holding onto his just as tightly as he’d once held onto hers, only months before, trying to keep her here. “I can’t be defined by you, Steve. I would never be happy if you were the only thing in my life that gave me worth. I have… I am capable, and able to do things on my own. I have to be able to… Steve, I gotta make my own life.”
He nods. “Without me.”
“Yes,” she says finally, looking down. “Without you. Regardless of you. Independant of you.”
He nods. “Thank you for admitting that.” He swallows, because he knew, he’s known, but it still fucking hurts. “Now.”
She sighs and pulls back. “Okay. Yeah, I deserve that.”
“Why are you here,” Steve asks, pulling his hands out of her grip finally and settling back on the couch.
“I heard,” she says, gesturing to him, to his stomach. To the scar beneath the t shirt. “I had to see if you were okay for myself.”
“Heard,” he says, hand coming up to rest on his belly. It’s still sensitive and it aches a bit in the rain. Aunt Deb’s arthritis had done that, he wonders if he’ll always feel phantom pains where his scar is when it thunders. He kind of hopes he does, as a reminder. “I’m good. I’m… healing. I’ve got a long way to go.”
“Yeah,” she says, and her hand floats forward like she’s going to touch him but stops halfway towards him. It’s a relief because he doesn’t know how to say she doesn’t have that right anymore. “And… Danny?” Her eyes lift to look back up at him. “Danny’s doing well also?”
“Yeah, he’s…” Steve always feels this pang of guilt when anyone asks how Danny’s doing, because were it not for Steve, no one would even have to be asking. Danny had been largely unhurt. A few broken ribs, but nothing he hadn’t had to deal with before. Recovering from a liver donation was an entirely new ballpark though, and Steve can’t help but feel like maybe he just hadn’t deserved that. Hadn’t deserved causing Danny’s life to be thrown into upheaval to that degree. “He’s recovering.”
“And how are you doing?”
He frowns. “I told you, I’m doing okay.”
She smiles sadly. “No, Steve. I mean how are you doing with Danny’s recovery.” She quirks an eyebrow at him. “I know you, don’t forget. You got a guilty complex the size of the Sahara.”
He shrugs. “I’m… I keep telling myself I’d do it for him,” he says finally, clearing his throat. “That, that if the situation were reversed, nothing would ever stop me from doing it for him. So. So maybe that means I deserved it. Or. Will.” He shrugs again. “Will earn it, one day.”
“You’re such an idiot,” she says softly with a grin. “Of course you deserve it, and of course you’d do it for him.”
“Well,” he says.
“So,” she says, her voice taking on a light quality. “No beer huh?”
Steve groans. “God, yeah, for like, at least a year. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” He motions. “I do still have beer in my fridge though. It’s been untouched for months at this point, but you’re welcome to--”
“No,” she says, reaching out and taking his hand in hers, staring down at their fingers tangling. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steve.”
There’s a knock at the door then and it’s almost imperceptible below the rain and the wind and the thunder. The only reason Steve knows it’s actually the door is that it’s Danny’s knock, this distinctive rat-a-tat-tat-a-thunk that only he does. When he does it, that is, because it’s so few and far between that either one of them ever actually knocks at either one's door.
Steve opens the door and see’s nothing. He looks out on the porch and sees nothing. He looks left and then right, pauses, and then does it again. Nothing. It’s not until he looks to the driveway to see if he can see the Camaro that he sees Danny standing in the pathway between the driveway and the door, soaking wet, holding his arms folded to his chest, blinking up at him as he ducks his head slightly from the rain.
Steve steps forward, still under the overhang of his porch. “Danny? What are you doing?” When Danny turns to look at him and looks lost and scared, and it makes Steve’s gut churn. He closes the distance quickly and put’s a hand on his shoulder. “What's up?”
Danny closes his eyes and tries to pull away from Steve’s touch. Steve only tightens his grip and blinks the rain out of his eyes. “I'm sorry I shouldn't be here. I'm interrupting, is Catherine still… I’m sorry of course she is, tell Catherine I said sorry.” His eyes drift past Steve and Steve turns to see Catherine leaning in the doorway looking concerned. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
Steve curls his fingers in Danny’s shirt as he tries to back away and turn to go. “Danny... what are you doing here? Are you OK? Come inside, get out of the rain.”
“No.” Danny shakes his head and avoids Steve’s eyes, eyes flicking to the driveway. “No. No I can't… not with-- I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
Steve hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Catherine half the distance to them. “Danny?”
Danny closes his eyes, hand coming up to wipe at his face. He makes an abortive gesture towards Catherine. “Go back inside, I’m fine, it’s nothing.” He looks up at Steve and laughs, shaking his head. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”
Catherine speaks before Steve can. “Come inside, you need to dry off. Steve needs to dry off. You shouldn't be just standing out here in the rain.” She’s even with them now, a hand coming down on Danny’s forearm and squeezing, other hand shielding her eyes from the pelting rain. “Come on, silly, what are you doing?”
Danny looks down at Catherine’s hand on his arm and Steve stiffens like a firefight’s about to happen. Some inexplicable thing just screams run, run at him. Screams that Danny’s about to bolt. “I'm sorry,” Danny says instead, reaching up and taking Catherine’s hand in his, patting it before letting it go. “I have no business doing this. I have no right to do this.” He laughs then, this wild, hysterical laugh that makes Steve’s skin prickle in goosebumps. That post-bomb giggle, that my life almost ended but didn’t laugh. “I shouldn't be doing this.”
“Do what, Danny,” Steve asks, because Danny hasn’t shaken his hand off, he hasn’t pried his hand off but he had Catherine’s, and that’s… significant somehow. “What are you talking about?”
Danny shakes his head, gives Steve a look, eyes pleading. “Jesus Christ. Will you please just let me leave already?”
Steve shakes his head. “No, Danny, I won't. You’re fucking scaring me.” Steve steps closer, glances at Catherine to tell her to stay where she is. Lowers his voice so only Danny can hear. “Why are you standing out here in the rain in front of my goddamn house? Why won't you come inside? What is wrong? What is going on? Why won't you tell me?”
Danny smiles, but it’s a sad smile that makes Steve’s chest ache. “Just go back inside, Steven. It's fine.” He jerks a hand through the air like he’s drawing a line in the sand, Steve on one side and Danny on the other. “I'm fine, you're fine.” He gestures in a circle between himself and Steve and Catherine. “We are fine. Go dry off, I didn't give you my liver for you to catch a fucking cold and die of pneumonia.”
He does pry off Steve’s hand then and gives a tiny wave to Catherine. Catherine meets Steve’s eyes and her frown deepens.
Steve lets out a groan of frustration. “Danny, what the fuck?”
“It doesn't matter,” Danny says, and takes a step backwards. “It doesn't even matter.” He turns to go then but only gets two steps before he spins back around, eyes closed. “Just don't… Steve, don’t, just…” He opens his eyes and Steve feels rocked to see how wrecked he looks, how guilty he looks when he darts his eyes towards Catherine. “Just. Don't.”
Steve looks at Catherine and then at Danny, his hands spreading wide. He tries to blink the rain out of his eyes, shakes his head when it doesn’t work. “Don’t what?”
“Don't go back to her Steve,” Danny says finally, breathing out loudly and stepping forward. “You deserve better. You deserve more.”
“Oh wow,” Catherine says, but Steve just continues to blink at Danny. “This is about me. You’re standing out here in the rain like… Wow, Danny.”
Danny wipes a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Cath. I am.”
“No no. By all means. Don’t let me stop you,” Catherine says, and her laugh is hurt but not angry.
“Listen to me,” Danny says, stepping forward, still facing Catherine. “I love you, okay? I… I’ve never just considered you Steve’s girl or even just a friend, I… you’re family. And I love you. I do. But what you did… how you did it. Catherine. I can’t just let him. I won’t.”
“I don’t understand,” Steve says finally, reaching up to wipe at his face. Like if he could just see Danny he’d understand. It’s pointless, as the rain continues to pelt down on them, but he does it anyway. “I don’t get what you’re--”
“Got dammit, Steve, what don't you understand,” Danny yells, whirling to face him. “You deserve better than her! She left you twice!” Danny waves his hand in Catherine’s direction. “She left you to the taliban and she lied to my face .”
“I never lied to you. I never lied to either of you,” Catherine says softly.
“God, lie of omission then, Cath, okay,” Danny yells, turning to face her. “You knew, you knew what I was asking you and you made me think… You didn’t tell me, you didn’t warn me, you made me think you were here for him. You made him think you were here for him, and then you ripped his fucking heart out and stomped on it!”
“Danny,” Steve starts.
“I never lied about how I felt, Danny,” Catherine says, stepping forward, chin jutting out defensively. “I always loved him, I never meant to hurt him!”
Danny throws up his hands and turns toward Steve, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s biceps. “I was going to accept it. I was fine.” His hair slips over his eyes and he shakes his head to flip it out. “I was going to be fine, I was going to get over it and be fine. Be your best man, go to your fucking wedding--”
“Wedding,” Catherine says, and Steve shuts his eyes.
“--because I thought she could make you happy,” Danny continues, pulling Steve forward forcibly. “I just want you to be happy. You just deserve to be fucking happy. But now I don't think she'll do that for you. I think she'll fucking leave you again. I think she'll break your heart again. I think she'll lie to you again.”
Steve swallows. “Get over what? Accept what?” Danny watches him for a moment and swallows, and there. There’s the fear again. Danny looking at him with fear in his eyes makes Steve want to scream and beat things and he grabs Danny’s shoulders. “Stop it. Just stop hiding behind whatever bullshit this is and say it!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Danny says. “What matters is you deserve better than what she’s given you, babe, okay? I don’t trust her with your heart, it’s too fucking precious for her.”
“You come stand in front of my house in the pouring fucking rain, Danny. You come here in this weather and… I don't understand what you're doing.” Steve pulls him closer as lightning slashes across the sky. “I don't understand where you're coming from, I don't know why you're doing this!”
“Because he’s in love with you, you idiot.” Catherine somehow sounds both amused and hurt, and Steve knows without looking that if he did she’d be crying, but instead he just keeps looking at Danny. Danny’s scared eyes and pressed together lips. “I thought you knew.”
“It’s okay, Steve, it’s fine,” Danny says quietly, and Steve can only see his eyes when lightening flashes but the pain he sees there rips through his gut. “I told you, it doesn’t matter, none of this matters, it’s not about me, it’s about you. You deserve better.”
“Steve.”
Catherine calling his name barely makes him even blink, his fingers clenched tightly enough into Danny’s arms to leave bruises. “Danny, I--”
“Steve, please, just… One second, look at me for one second.”
Danny looks over Steve’s shoulder and then looks away, biting his lip. He just wants to haul him inside, tell Catherine to go the fuck away and haul Danny inside and figure out what the hell is happening here, but Catherine’s hand is on his shoulder and it takes everything in him to not whip around and look at her with every ounce of hatred built up inside of him.
“I’m gonna go, okay,” she says gently, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “I didn’t come back for… It was never about getting you back. You said you wouldn’t wait for me and I’d never ask you to. I just wanted to see for myself that you were okay.” She smiles, thumb brushing his cheek. “I will always love you, I wish you nothing but happiness.”
“I love you too,” he says, but it means goodbye and they both know it.
He lets go of Danny when Catherine’s fingers pull at his hands, her own fingers replacing his. “Can I at least get a hug,” she says, and the way she tilts her head he knows she’s got that lopsided grin in place that’s two parts pain but one part forgiveness and the way Danny’s face crumples he knows it too. “Come on, Danny. Family right?”
“Cath, I never--”
“Oh shut up,” she says, and wraps her arms around Danny and hugs him tight. He’s slow to wrap his arms around her in kind but when he does he wraps them just as tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he says into her neck, just loud enough to hear.
“Me too,” Catherine says, and kisses his cheek.
When she walks away she does so without even glancing back. Danny stands next to him with his arms crossed, hair plastered to his skull looking miserable and aged ten years at least. They’re silent as Catherine’s car starts up and pulls out of his driveway.
“So,” Steve says.
“I really thought,” Danny says, not looking at him. “I was just afraid you would…” He finally looks at Steve and seems to shrink. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, Steve.”
“Why did you,” Steve asks, even if he’s starting to understand why, even if he’s starting to understand what’s actually happening here, he still needs Danny to say it. Say it out loud, to his face.
“I just want you to be happy,” Danny says, reaching up to push the hair out of his face, hands coming down to cup over his mouth as he stares off into the distance. “You deserve better than her.”
“And you,” Steve says, swallowing and turning to face him. “You. You’re better.”
“No,” Danny says, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “No, Steven, no, I’m not. This wasn’t about. It really wasn’t supposed to be about me at all,” he says, taking a step back.
Steve takes a step towards him but stops at the caged look in Danny’s eyes. “You were gonna get past it?”
“Steve.”
“What if I don’t want you to,” Steve asks, forcing it out. Everything in him is fighting it, he feels the urge to bolt himself, just like he sees Danny wanting to, but he can’t. If Danny’s willing to put it out there he has to too. “What if I’m not.”
Danny looks at him, disbelieve clouding his expression. The rain picks up even harder and Steve has to squint. “You’re not what?”
“Maybe I don’t want you get past it,” he says, and reaches out to grab Danny’s arm again, hauling him forward. “Because I’m not over you either. And I’ve tried Danny. For years I’ve tried to stop but I can’t.”
“Stop what, what are you, over me how, Steve you can’t just--”
For the second time in five minutes, someone tells Danny Williams to shut up. Instead of a hug, Steve grabs Danny’s face and pulls him forward, closes his eyes, and presses his lips against his. Not over you, he thinks. Never over you, he thinks. “I will not ever get over you, don’t you dare get over me.”
Danny’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck as he mutters “oh my god” against his lips before shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth, their noses smashing together painfully and awkwardly, and God, it’s perfect.
“Couldn’t if I tried,” Danny mutters, pushing Steve backwards towards the steps of his porch. “Did try. Tried so fucking hard, Steve, you have no idea.”
“I might have an idea,” Steve says, stumbling and falling on his ass at the top step, laughing and wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist as he tumbles on top of him. “Might have some sort of clue.”
“Shut up,” Danny says, and pushes him down on the ground, leg sliding between Steve’s as he glues their mouths together, teeth mashing Steve’s lip painfully against his tooth as he kisses him again. “I hate you.”
They’re just barely out of the rain, Steve can feel it bouncing off the ground and onto his bare feet, but he can’t move because that would mean he’d have to stop kissing Danny and that’s just impossible right now.
“Hate you so much,” Danny’s saying as Steve reaches down to slide his hands up the back of Danny’s shirt, feeling hot wet skin and how Danny’s trembling just the slightest bit. “I can’t even articulate the amount of hatred I--”
“God, do you ever shut the fuck up,” Steve grumbles, gripping Danny’s shirt in his hands and twisting and pulling until he’s taken it off of him, slinging the heavy wet cotton behind him with a loud thwack. “Motor mouth, it just keeps going and going and going.”
“I think you’ll thank me for my endurance later, Steven,” Danny says, and bites the spot where Steve’s neck meets his shoulder and causes him to groan and grab Danny’s ass, grinding them together. “Mouth’s not the only thing that keeps going.”
“You stood out here getting soaked to the bone in the rain for me,” Steve says when they break moments later, catching their breaths.
“Yeah, I did,” Danny says, grinning stupidly down at him. Steve answers it with his own stupid, goofy grin. “Must’ve been insane.”
“I was never gonna go back to her, Danny,” Steve says, reaching up and pushing Danny’s hair back only for it to flop back forward. Even soaking wet and dripping on him, Danny’s hair still has a mind of its own. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Danny asks, leaning down to kiss him again, winding his tongue with Steve’s slowly. “Takes one to know one.”