FIC: Hit the Ground Running (4/8)
Jul. 17th, 2011 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stellarmeadowTitle: Hit the Ground Running
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny gets Steve out of jail. It goes downhill from there.
Notes: This has been churning in my head since the last second of the season finale aired. Had to finish another story, then battle my way through this one. So many thank yous--this would not have gotten done without the encouragement of Celli (who is an awesome cheerleader), Chelsea Frew (who also cheers well and betas fabulously), Cori Lannam (who listens to my constant bitching and plotting and cheers as well), imaginarycircus (another lovely cheerleader who also betas like a pro) and Zarah5 (who cheers and encourages and picks nits more awesomely than anyone on the planet, and has the best music collection ever, with a song for every emotion).
Spoilers: All of season 1
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
The place turned out to be some deserted road in a park Danny had driven within a mile of and never known existed. Steve pulled over and turned off the car, getting out and stretching before sitting on the hood of the car. Danny followed suit.
"Danny," Steve said, looking at Danny's shoulder instead of meeting his eyes, "I'm sorry."
"For which thing? There's a long list of possibilities."
"Chin said HPD got a tip from a neighbor who saw me going back and forth from the garage this morning. If I'd just stayed in the house--"
"But you didn't. And you can't change it. So let's stop worrying about it and start worrying about what we're going to do."
Danny's phone rang, the screen showing it was Kamekona. "Please tell me you have a room for us," he said without a greeting.
"Yeah." He named a motel Danny had never heard of and the address and said he'd meet them behind the restaurant next door to it in half an hour.
"Thanks," Danny said, hanging up. He relayed the address to Steve, who nodded and jumped off the hood and back into the car.
They waited behind the restaurant for a few minutes before Kamekona pulled up in an old pickup Danny hadn't seen before. As Kamekona waved to Steve, Danny got out of the car and went up to the window of the pickup. "Thanks," Danny said as Kamekona handed him a room key, "we owe you big." He handed Kamekona some money for the room and his trouble, and took the keys.
"Room six. Sorry, it's a double bed, but it's all they had. I don't think they get a lot of solo customers these days, you know? Oh, and here." He handed Danny a couple of baseball caps. "Probably want to keep yourselves a little hidden. And be careful. The police have been around my place asking questions."
Which meant they'd have to be very cautious about calling him again. "Got it. Thanks." Danny inhaled carefully. "Did any of the officers get hurt trying to catch us?"
"Nope, they said one inhaled some smoke, but he was fine."
Thank God and the Navy that Steve knew his stuff with explosives. "Good. Thanks again, man. Really."
Kamekona nodded and drove off as Danny got back in the car. "Think we should ditch this car?" he asked.
"Probably. Feel up to a walk?"
Danny shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"
"Yeah. I could leave you at the motel and ditch the car myself."
"And let you get into God only knows what trouble on your own? No, thank you." He handed Steve one of the caps, putting the other on his own head and pulling the brim down low. "I pushed your ridiculously large, heavy car up a hill, I think I can walk back here carrying only myself. Drive."
They left the stolen car about a mile away, in the parking lot of a large hotel, and walked back to their new hideout. Steve's silence had Danny wondering what kind of insane idea he was going to have to face when they got back to the room.
He didn't have to wait long to find out. He was just taking off his cap when Steve said, "I think you should take me in."
"Right, because they won't be watching my place," Danny said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he checked out the window to see if it looked like anyone had followed him, but all was quiet as he turned back to Steve.
"No, I mean to HPD." Steve resettled his bags on his shoulder. "You should take me in. Tell them you found me right before they got there and were trying to get me to turn myself in, and I made you come with me."
"Okay, a, nobody is going to buy that, b, even if they would, my fingerprints are all over that house, so it's going to be kind of obvious I've spent some time there, and c, I'm sure there is video of me driving the car we used to run from the cops. Plus, d--and this is a very important d, Steven, so please make sure you are listening carefully--what would be the point of all of this if you just walked right back into jail and signed your own death warrant?"
Steve flinched, and Danny took a deep breath, lowering his voice. "The answer is no. I'm not turning you in, you're not turning yourself in. We stick to the plan. We prove your innocence. Got it?"
"Got it," Steve said, his tone odd. Danny ran through his mental 'Many Faces of Steve' collection and couldn't place the look, either. "Okay," Danny said, looking around the room. He was thankful for the small refrigerator and microwave in the corner. "We need food, and a few other things, and there's a convenience store across the street. Your face has been all over the news for days, but mine hasn't until now, so I'm going to risk it, because if we starve to death, this will have all been for nothing."
Steve nodded, moving away from the door and putting the bags down on the dresser. "Be careful."
"You're telling me to be careful?" Danny shook his head. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, brushing against Steve as he leaned over to reach into the duffle bag. He checked to make sure both the chargers and the extra phone were in there before pulling out some money. "Don't...blow anything up," Danny said as he pocketed the money, looking up to realize he was maybe an inch from Steve's face.
Steve's eyes had little flecks of color that were mesmerizing, until Danny realized he'd been standing too close and staring too long. "Food," he said, stepping back and clearing his throat as he looked around for his cap. He tucked his hair up into it as much as he could to hide the blond and reached for the door, walking out without looking back.
The store was well-stocked, with only one camera directly behind the register. All he had to do was avoid letting that one see him easily. He bought microwave meals and sandwiches and juice--because he suspected Steve would go looking for it otherwise--and water and beer. He also picked up toiletries for both of them, since his were back at Steve's house, and Steve said he'd left his at the safe house.
He was relieved to find t-shirts and underwear, since Steve had clothes in the duffle, but Danny had nothing but the clothes on his back. They didn't have pants, but they had ugly, loud board shorts, which he groaned over before purchasing the least horrible of the bunch--a bright blue pair with yellow palm trees.
Once he had everything he could think of--since coming back out was not high on his list--Danny paid for it all, keeping his head low so the cap would block the camera from seeing his face. He turned right when he left the store, as if he was going to the hotel up the street, then crossed over and made his way back to their room.
When Danny opened the door, Steve was on the bed, laptop open in front of him, but one foot on the floor and a Sig in his hand. He recognized Danny, and put the gun on the nightstand before settling back against the headboard, laptop across his thighs.
Danny looked away from the sight of Steve sprawled on the bed and noticed the stun grenades were on the floor by the bed, the satchel open. "Expecting an attack?" Danny asked, nodding at the satchel as he locked the door behind him and took off his cap and moved the curtain on the window aside just enough to make sure he hadn't been followed.
"Any reason I shouldn't be at this point?"
Satisfied that it still looked quiet outside, Danny acknowledged Steve's comment with a tilt of his head. "Fair enough," he said, as he put the cold groceries away in the refrigerator. He turned back to watch Steve for a moment, lazing on the bed with the laptop on his lap, his black t-shirt riding up a little, giving Danny a glimpse of the stomach underneath. Not that he didn't know what everything under the shirt looked like--it was practically burned on his retinas after all the time Steve had spent shirtless.
He cleared his throat and turned away, digging through the bags for a few items before crossing the room to the bathroom.
"Hang on," Steve said.
"What?" Danny asked, turning to face him. "Can't I take a shower?"
"Take a gun with you."
Danny blinked at him. "Take a gun? To the shower? Are you expecting ninja shower assassins?"
"No, but if something happens out here while you're in there, you should be armed."
"I am not using a gun against HPD."
"I didn't mean HPD, Danny," Steve said, giving him the 'You Idiot' Look.
Danny sighed. "Fine," he said, though privately he thought Steve and his armory by the bed would take care of anyone who came in the front door before Danny could even notice the noise. He picked up a Glock from the duffle bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, pulling off his clothes and getting into the shower.
The water was barely lukewarm, which did nothing to improve his mood. The events of the day were catching up at last, leaving him wondering how the fuck had they ended up trapped in a crappy motel room on the run from...well, everyone. A week ago, they were the most elite cops on the island, closing in on Wo Fat. And now they were fugitives, cooped up in a motel, and he couldn't even talk to his daughter.
Not that he would change any of it if Steve's death was the alternative. Even if he'd had time to think, he'd have made the same decisions. He hadn't had any other options. The only decision he might have changed in the last week was leaving Steve alone when he'd gone to see Rachel. He should've known exactly what Steve would do, but he'd ignored it, and that was how they'd ended up here.
If he'd stayed with Steve that night, if he'd told Rachel he had work to do and he'd see her another time, then maybe they'd still be free, Grace would still be here, and the governor would still be alive. Maybe.
Or maybe Wo Fat would've rigged the governor's car with the same kind of bomb he'd used to kill Laura Hills. And Steve's mother. And Steve would be in jail, blamed for the deaths of Laura and the governor, and Danny would have to protect Rachel and Grace while still trying to get Steve out.
Fucking Wo Fat. He really wanted to get his hands on the guy--if Steve didn't shoot the fucker in the face, Danny would.
He got out of the shower and dried off, glaring at the ugly shorts before pulling them on. He added one of his new plain white t-shirts and stared at his utterly ridiculous reflection in the mirror before padding back out into the room to find Steve still sprawled on the bed, looking as if he was on vacation. One hand was behind his head, the other lazily tapping and clicking on the laptop keyboard.
"Did we make the news?" Danny asked, trying to force a levity he was nowhere near feeling, as he dropped his dirty clothes by the dresser.
"Oh yeah," Steve said, slowly raising his head from the computer. "We're the--" He stopped, staring at Danny for a second before bursting into laughter. "Where did you get those shorts?"
"Excuse me?" Danny said, the last thread holding his anger at the world snapping. "You want to make fun of my clothing, Steven? You really want to do that right now? I will have you know that I am wearing these monstrosities only because I had to leave my clothes, my phone, and everything else but literally the shirt on my back behind when we had to run from the police. From the police! The very people that until recently were my colleagues. I can't even call my daughter because they've probably tapped her phone, Rachel's phone, and my parents' phone, and it sucks, okay? It sucks. So please, will you shut up about the damn shorts!"
All trace of amusement disappeared from Steve's face. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, his features arranging themselves into their standard 'Everything is My Fault' setting. Which...well, okay, not all of it was Steve's fault. In fact, most of it was not Steve's fault. Okay, Danny grudgingly admitted, pretty much all of it was not Steve's fault. He was just a convenient outlet for Danny's frustration.
"It's okay," Danny said tiredly, his anger dissipating. "Sorry. I know it's not your fault."
Steve huffed as if he wanted to disagree, but he didn't, and Danny crossed the room and sat down beside him on the bed. "Look," Danny said, "none of this is easy for me, okay? I'm having a little trouble dealing with the situation. It doesn't mean I blame you."
"Why not?" Steve asked, giving Danny a sidelong look. "I was the one who went and did everything you told me not to. If I had listened to you and not gone to the governor's mansion, I wouldn't be accused of her murder. If I had listened to you and stayed in the safe house, no one would've seen me and called the cops."
"And if you'd listened to me and not broken into the mansion in the first place, we wouldn't have proof of--"
"Inadmissible proof," Steve interjected.
Danny smacked him on the arm. "Shut it. We wouldn't have proof of what was going on, and we wouldn't know we're on the right track." Danny shifted on the bed to face Steve, leaning in a little. "If you hadn't gone to the governor's mansion, he'd probably have bombed her car just like Laura's, and made sure you were blamed. All you did was speed it up and maybe get us more evidence."
"If the recording is still on the phone."
"Think positive."
Steve's eyebrows mushed together into what Danny called 'Sour Lemon' face. "Since when did you become Mr. Optimism?"
"I'm not. But it's either that or we blow ourselves up with your grenades."
"Stun grenades, Danny. They won't kill us."
"If we blew all of them up at once?"
Steve gave a half shrug, half nod. "Maybe then, yeah. I'm not sure I'm ready to go that far just yet."
"What? You're opting not to blow something up? Wow. Call Ripley's, please. Right now. Maybe they can get you into the next printing."
That finally got a small laugh out of Steve, and Danny let himself relax a little. "Here," Steve said, putting the laptop on the bed in front of Danny. "Read all about our supposed exploits. I'm going to take a shower."
Danny watched as Steve picked up the Sig off the nightstand and gathered some things before closing himself in the bathroom. He read the stories about their "daring flight from justice" online, stopping after the third article that said pretty much the same as the first two, as if they were all written from the same set of talking points. Fugitives, murder, Governor, yadda yadda.
He wondered how many of the media worked for Wo Fat.
He put the laptop aside and checked his phone, just in case he'd missed any messages, but there was nothing. He itched to call Toast and see if there was any progress or even any hope, but he didn't dare. Toast might be...well, toasted, but he was smart enough to stay out of trouble after his last run in with the law. He wouldn't call until it was safe. And Danny would be endangering one of the few connections they had left if he called Toast at the wrong time.
If only he could call Grace. But contact with anyone from his family would surely be monitored and get them busted. And they were running out of places to hide.
He knew Rachel would tell Grace something to keep her from worrying, even though Rachel would be worried herself, but it couldn't be helped. He was stuck with this, and he couldn't even be entirely sorry, because the thought of Steve on the run with no one to watch his back made him slightly nauseous.
God help him, he actually felt better now than he had when he was alone at Steve's house.
"I am a sick individual," he said to the hotel walls, before he flopped back on the bed and pulled a pillow over his head.
He heard the bathroom door open, and Steve's bare feet stepping across the carpet. "As suicide attempts go," Steve said, "that's a pretty weak one."
"Shut up," Danny said from under the pillow. "I'm not killing myself. I'm hiding."
"From what?"
"Everything."
He didn't need to see Steve to know what his face looked like in the long pause before his drawn out, "Okay."
Danny peeked out from under the pillow. "I need a beer."
"And food," Steve said. When Danny saw Steve going for the fridge, he sighed and sat up, putting the pillow behind his head once more. Steve brought the premade sandwiches over to the bed with two Longboards, and they mocked the stories they'd both read about their flight, trying to top each other on what outlandish stories the reporters would come up with for them next.
"Did you see the one," Steve asked, as he cleared away the mess from their dinner, "that suggested I killed the governor because she wouldn't let me marry you?"
Danny blinked. Hard. "What?"
"I guess not," Steve said. "It was one of those ridiculous trashy sites. They quoted three separate 'sources' who said they thought we'd already been married in secret."
"Seriously?" Danny shook his head. Given the number of people who'd joked about them being married, he wasn't entirely surprised at that part, but still....
Steve nodded. "They said your ex-wife had taken your child to the mainland to escape your horrible gay influence."
At the mention of Rachel and Grace, Danny sobered, and Steve winced. "Shit, Danny, I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I didn't mean to bring it up. I..." Steve looked at him helplessly for a moment. "I know it's killing you not to be able to talk to Grace. I was trying to distract you, not focus your attention on it."
Danny took a deep breath. "It's fine. It's not like I wasn't thinking about it every other minute anyway." He slid off the bed to stand up, stretching his muscles. "I'm going to get ready for bed," he said, heading into the bathroom without a backwards glance.
***
Chapter 5
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny gets Steve out of jail. It goes downhill from there.
Notes: This has been churning in my head since the last second of the season finale aired. Had to finish another story, then battle my way through this one. So many thank yous--this would not have gotten done without the encouragement of Celli (who is an awesome cheerleader), Chelsea Frew (who also cheers well and betas fabulously), Cori Lannam (who listens to my constant bitching and plotting and cheers as well), imaginarycircus (another lovely cheerleader who also betas like a pro) and Zarah5 (who cheers and encourages and picks nits more awesomely than anyone on the planet, and has the best music collection ever, with a song for every emotion).
Spoilers: All of season 1
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
The place turned out to be some deserted road in a park Danny had driven within a mile of and never known existed. Steve pulled over and turned off the car, getting out and stretching before sitting on the hood of the car. Danny followed suit.
"Danny," Steve said, looking at Danny's shoulder instead of meeting his eyes, "I'm sorry."
"For which thing? There's a long list of possibilities."
"Chin said HPD got a tip from a neighbor who saw me going back and forth from the garage this morning. If I'd just stayed in the house--"
"But you didn't. And you can't change it. So let's stop worrying about it and start worrying about what we're going to do."
Danny's phone rang, the screen showing it was Kamekona. "Please tell me you have a room for us," he said without a greeting.
"Yeah." He named a motel Danny had never heard of and the address and said he'd meet them behind the restaurant next door to it in half an hour.
"Thanks," Danny said, hanging up. He relayed the address to Steve, who nodded and jumped off the hood and back into the car.
They waited behind the restaurant for a few minutes before Kamekona pulled up in an old pickup Danny hadn't seen before. As Kamekona waved to Steve, Danny got out of the car and went up to the window of the pickup. "Thanks," Danny said as Kamekona handed him a room key, "we owe you big." He handed Kamekona some money for the room and his trouble, and took the keys.
"Room six. Sorry, it's a double bed, but it's all they had. I don't think they get a lot of solo customers these days, you know? Oh, and here." He handed Danny a couple of baseball caps. "Probably want to keep yourselves a little hidden. And be careful. The police have been around my place asking questions."
Which meant they'd have to be very cautious about calling him again. "Got it. Thanks." Danny inhaled carefully. "Did any of the officers get hurt trying to catch us?"
"Nope, they said one inhaled some smoke, but he was fine."
Thank God and the Navy that Steve knew his stuff with explosives. "Good. Thanks again, man. Really."
Kamekona nodded and drove off as Danny got back in the car. "Think we should ditch this car?" he asked.
"Probably. Feel up to a walk?"
Danny shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"
"Yeah. I could leave you at the motel and ditch the car myself."
"And let you get into God only knows what trouble on your own? No, thank you." He handed Steve one of the caps, putting the other on his own head and pulling the brim down low. "I pushed your ridiculously large, heavy car up a hill, I think I can walk back here carrying only myself. Drive."
They left the stolen car about a mile away, in the parking lot of a large hotel, and walked back to their new hideout. Steve's silence had Danny wondering what kind of insane idea he was going to have to face when they got back to the room.
He didn't have to wait long to find out. He was just taking off his cap when Steve said, "I think you should take me in."
"Right, because they won't be watching my place," Danny said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he checked out the window to see if it looked like anyone had followed him, but all was quiet as he turned back to Steve.
"No, I mean to HPD." Steve resettled his bags on his shoulder. "You should take me in. Tell them you found me right before they got there and were trying to get me to turn myself in, and I made you come with me."
"Okay, a, nobody is going to buy that, b, even if they would, my fingerprints are all over that house, so it's going to be kind of obvious I've spent some time there, and c, I'm sure there is video of me driving the car we used to run from the cops. Plus, d--and this is a very important d, Steven, so please make sure you are listening carefully--what would be the point of all of this if you just walked right back into jail and signed your own death warrant?"
Steve flinched, and Danny took a deep breath, lowering his voice. "The answer is no. I'm not turning you in, you're not turning yourself in. We stick to the plan. We prove your innocence. Got it?"
"Got it," Steve said, his tone odd. Danny ran through his mental 'Many Faces of Steve' collection and couldn't place the look, either. "Okay," Danny said, looking around the room. He was thankful for the small refrigerator and microwave in the corner. "We need food, and a few other things, and there's a convenience store across the street. Your face has been all over the news for days, but mine hasn't until now, so I'm going to risk it, because if we starve to death, this will have all been for nothing."
Steve nodded, moving away from the door and putting the bags down on the dresser. "Be careful."
"You're telling me to be careful?" Danny shook his head. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, brushing against Steve as he leaned over to reach into the duffle bag. He checked to make sure both the chargers and the extra phone were in there before pulling out some money. "Don't...blow anything up," Danny said as he pocketed the money, looking up to realize he was maybe an inch from Steve's face.
Steve's eyes had little flecks of color that were mesmerizing, until Danny realized he'd been standing too close and staring too long. "Food," he said, stepping back and clearing his throat as he looked around for his cap. He tucked his hair up into it as much as he could to hide the blond and reached for the door, walking out without looking back.
The store was well-stocked, with only one camera directly behind the register. All he had to do was avoid letting that one see him easily. He bought microwave meals and sandwiches and juice--because he suspected Steve would go looking for it otherwise--and water and beer. He also picked up toiletries for both of them, since his were back at Steve's house, and Steve said he'd left his at the safe house.
He was relieved to find t-shirts and underwear, since Steve had clothes in the duffle, but Danny had nothing but the clothes on his back. They didn't have pants, but they had ugly, loud board shorts, which he groaned over before purchasing the least horrible of the bunch--a bright blue pair with yellow palm trees.
Once he had everything he could think of--since coming back out was not high on his list--Danny paid for it all, keeping his head low so the cap would block the camera from seeing his face. He turned right when he left the store, as if he was going to the hotel up the street, then crossed over and made his way back to their room.
When Danny opened the door, Steve was on the bed, laptop open in front of him, but one foot on the floor and a Sig in his hand. He recognized Danny, and put the gun on the nightstand before settling back against the headboard, laptop across his thighs.
Danny looked away from the sight of Steve sprawled on the bed and noticed the stun grenades were on the floor by the bed, the satchel open. "Expecting an attack?" Danny asked, nodding at the satchel as he locked the door behind him and took off his cap and moved the curtain on the window aside just enough to make sure he hadn't been followed.
"Any reason I shouldn't be at this point?"
Satisfied that it still looked quiet outside, Danny acknowledged Steve's comment with a tilt of his head. "Fair enough," he said, as he put the cold groceries away in the refrigerator. He turned back to watch Steve for a moment, lazing on the bed with the laptop on his lap, his black t-shirt riding up a little, giving Danny a glimpse of the stomach underneath. Not that he didn't know what everything under the shirt looked like--it was practically burned on his retinas after all the time Steve had spent shirtless.
He cleared his throat and turned away, digging through the bags for a few items before crossing the room to the bathroom.
"Hang on," Steve said.
"What?" Danny asked, turning to face him. "Can't I take a shower?"
"Take a gun with you."
Danny blinked at him. "Take a gun? To the shower? Are you expecting ninja shower assassins?"
"No, but if something happens out here while you're in there, you should be armed."
"I am not using a gun against HPD."
"I didn't mean HPD, Danny," Steve said, giving him the 'You Idiot' Look.
Danny sighed. "Fine," he said, though privately he thought Steve and his armory by the bed would take care of anyone who came in the front door before Danny could even notice the noise. He picked up a Glock from the duffle bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, pulling off his clothes and getting into the shower.
The water was barely lukewarm, which did nothing to improve his mood. The events of the day were catching up at last, leaving him wondering how the fuck had they ended up trapped in a crappy motel room on the run from...well, everyone. A week ago, they were the most elite cops on the island, closing in on Wo Fat. And now they were fugitives, cooped up in a motel, and he couldn't even talk to his daughter.
Not that he would change any of it if Steve's death was the alternative. Even if he'd had time to think, he'd have made the same decisions. He hadn't had any other options. The only decision he might have changed in the last week was leaving Steve alone when he'd gone to see Rachel. He should've known exactly what Steve would do, but he'd ignored it, and that was how they'd ended up here.
If he'd stayed with Steve that night, if he'd told Rachel he had work to do and he'd see her another time, then maybe they'd still be free, Grace would still be here, and the governor would still be alive. Maybe.
Or maybe Wo Fat would've rigged the governor's car with the same kind of bomb he'd used to kill Laura Hills. And Steve's mother. And Steve would be in jail, blamed for the deaths of Laura and the governor, and Danny would have to protect Rachel and Grace while still trying to get Steve out.
Fucking Wo Fat. He really wanted to get his hands on the guy--if Steve didn't shoot the fucker in the face, Danny would.
He got out of the shower and dried off, glaring at the ugly shorts before pulling them on. He added one of his new plain white t-shirts and stared at his utterly ridiculous reflection in the mirror before padding back out into the room to find Steve still sprawled on the bed, looking as if he was on vacation. One hand was behind his head, the other lazily tapping and clicking on the laptop keyboard.
"Did we make the news?" Danny asked, trying to force a levity he was nowhere near feeling, as he dropped his dirty clothes by the dresser.
"Oh yeah," Steve said, slowly raising his head from the computer. "We're the--" He stopped, staring at Danny for a second before bursting into laughter. "Where did you get those shorts?"
"Excuse me?" Danny said, the last thread holding his anger at the world snapping. "You want to make fun of my clothing, Steven? You really want to do that right now? I will have you know that I am wearing these monstrosities only because I had to leave my clothes, my phone, and everything else but literally the shirt on my back behind when we had to run from the police. From the police! The very people that until recently were my colleagues. I can't even call my daughter because they've probably tapped her phone, Rachel's phone, and my parents' phone, and it sucks, okay? It sucks. So please, will you shut up about the damn shorts!"
All trace of amusement disappeared from Steve's face. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, his features arranging themselves into their standard 'Everything is My Fault' setting. Which...well, okay, not all of it was Steve's fault. In fact, most of it was not Steve's fault. Okay, Danny grudgingly admitted, pretty much all of it was not Steve's fault. He was just a convenient outlet for Danny's frustration.
"It's okay," Danny said tiredly, his anger dissipating. "Sorry. I know it's not your fault."
Steve huffed as if he wanted to disagree, but he didn't, and Danny crossed the room and sat down beside him on the bed. "Look," Danny said, "none of this is easy for me, okay? I'm having a little trouble dealing with the situation. It doesn't mean I blame you."
"Why not?" Steve asked, giving Danny a sidelong look. "I was the one who went and did everything you told me not to. If I had listened to you and not gone to the governor's mansion, I wouldn't be accused of her murder. If I had listened to you and stayed in the safe house, no one would've seen me and called the cops."
"And if you'd listened to me and not broken into the mansion in the first place, we wouldn't have proof of--"
"Inadmissible proof," Steve interjected.
Danny smacked him on the arm. "Shut it. We wouldn't have proof of what was going on, and we wouldn't know we're on the right track." Danny shifted on the bed to face Steve, leaning in a little. "If you hadn't gone to the governor's mansion, he'd probably have bombed her car just like Laura's, and made sure you were blamed. All you did was speed it up and maybe get us more evidence."
"If the recording is still on the phone."
"Think positive."
Steve's eyebrows mushed together into what Danny called 'Sour Lemon' face. "Since when did you become Mr. Optimism?"
"I'm not. But it's either that or we blow ourselves up with your grenades."
"Stun grenades, Danny. They won't kill us."
"If we blew all of them up at once?"
Steve gave a half shrug, half nod. "Maybe then, yeah. I'm not sure I'm ready to go that far just yet."
"What? You're opting not to blow something up? Wow. Call Ripley's, please. Right now. Maybe they can get you into the next printing."
That finally got a small laugh out of Steve, and Danny let himself relax a little. "Here," Steve said, putting the laptop on the bed in front of Danny. "Read all about our supposed exploits. I'm going to take a shower."
Danny watched as Steve picked up the Sig off the nightstand and gathered some things before closing himself in the bathroom. He read the stories about their "daring flight from justice" online, stopping after the third article that said pretty much the same as the first two, as if they were all written from the same set of talking points. Fugitives, murder, Governor, yadda yadda.
He wondered how many of the media worked for Wo Fat.
He put the laptop aside and checked his phone, just in case he'd missed any messages, but there was nothing. He itched to call Toast and see if there was any progress or even any hope, but he didn't dare. Toast might be...well, toasted, but he was smart enough to stay out of trouble after his last run in with the law. He wouldn't call until it was safe. And Danny would be endangering one of the few connections they had left if he called Toast at the wrong time.
If only he could call Grace. But contact with anyone from his family would surely be monitored and get them busted. And they were running out of places to hide.
He knew Rachel would tell Grace something to keep her from worrying, even though Rachel would be worried herself, but it couldn't be helped. He was stuck with this, and he couldn't even be entirely sorry, because the thought of Steve on the run with no one to watch his back made him slightly nauseous.
God help him, he actually felt better now than he had when he was alone at Steve's house.
"I am a sick individual," he said to the hotel walls, before he flopped back on the bed and pulled a pillow over his head.
He heard the bathroom door open, and Steve's bare feet stepping across the carpet. "As suicide attempts go," Steve said, "that's a pretty weak one."
"Shut up," Danny said from under the pillow. "I'm not killing myself. I'm hiding."
"From what?"
"Everything."
He didn't need to see Steve to know what his face looked like in the long pause before his drawn out, "Okay."
Danny peeked out from under the pillow. "I need a beer."
"And food," Steve said. When Danny saw Steve going for the fridge, he sighed and sat up, putting the pillow behind his head once more. Steve brought the premade sandwiches over to the bed with two Longboards, and they mocked the stories they'd both read about their flight, trying to top each other on what outlandish stories the reporters would come up with for them next.
"Did you see the one," Steve asked, as he cleared away the mess from their dinner, "that suggested I killed the governor because she wouldn't let me marry you?"
Danny blinked. Hard. "What?"
"I guess not," Steve said. "It was one of those ridiculous trashy sites. They quoted three separate 'sources' who said they thought we'd already been married in secret."
"Seriously?" Danny shook his head. Given the number of people who'd joked about them being married, he wasn't entirely surprised at that part, but still....
Steve nodded. "They said your ex-wife had taken your child to the mainland to escape your horrible gay influence."
At the mention of Rachel and Grace, Danny sobered, and Steve winced. "Shit, Danny, I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I didn't mean to bring it up. I..." Steve looked at him helplessly for a moment. "I know it's killing you not to be able to talk to Grace. I was trying to distract you, not focus your attention on it."
Danny took a deep breath. "It's fine. It's not like I wasn't thinking about it every other minute anyway." He slid off the bed to stand up, stretching his muscles. "I'm going to get ready for bed," he said, heading into the bathroom without a backwards glance.
***
Chapter 5
