He's dubious, but it's a real question. Because, well. These things come out. They always do. By accident, if not on purpose. They spend too much time together, interact with too many people to make it a safe bet that no one will notice.
Like Kono, and Chin. Who are two of the best detectives Danny's ever worked with. The only reason they haven't already worked it out is because they wouldn't have any reason to suspect that the marks on Danny's neck were from anyone other than Gabby or some other girl.
But, eventually. If this keeps happening. If it somehow, miraculously, doesn't stop. If Steve keeps meaning and believing those words. If he doesn't decide to say no thanks to Danny's.
He's not exactly advocating heading to Dennings' office tomorrow morning and filling out the required paperwork, or having that conversation that he feels, a little uncomfortably, should probably have been had a week ago, but the idea of telling people pings just as wrong as the idea of not. Like if they don't, he might somehow been seen as being ashamed of it. He's not. Could never. Blown away, yes. Overwhelmed, sure. Terrified, definitely.
But ashamed?
Never. Never. Not of Steve. Never of Steve. Who is so much better than he gives himself credit for, because he takes credit in all the things people already see: the talent, the skill, the fearless and absolute loyalty to his duty. He doesn't ever see the way his heart gets taken away from him on the cases where kids get hurt, or parents are killed. He doesn't notice how above and beyond his care of the team is. How generous he can be. Compassionate, even. How nothing touches any member of his team, any of his people, without Steve taking swift action against it, and doing everything he can, personally, to improve the situation.
"I'm not saying we ought to go have a chat with Dennings tomorrow, but I get the feeling that people finding out by accident might be worse than the alternative. At the very least, Kono would definitely hit at least one of us."
It's sort of meant to be light-hearted, but it comes out tense and contracting along with the sudden painful compression in his chest. He might not be ashamed, but he is, alright, afraid. Right now, this is just theirs. Only them. In this together. There's time to figure things out, steps that can be tripped over, and it only screws with them, and no one else.
Bringing other people into it raises the stakes instantly, terribly. And he's not sure he's anywhere near ready for that. The best he can do is deflect it, like he did in the car, with Doris. I'm seeing someone.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-01 09:49 pm (UTC)He's dubious, but it's a real question. Because, well. These things come out. They always do. By accident, if not on purpose. They spend too much time together, interact with too many people to make it a safe bet that no one will notice.
Like Kono, and Chin. Who are two of the best detectives Danny's ever worked with. The only reason they haven't already worked it out is because they wouldn't have any reason to suspect that the marks on Danny's neck were from anyone other than Gabby or some other girl.
But, eventually. If this keeps happening. If it somehow, miraculously, doesn't stop. If Steve keeps meaning and believing those words. If he doesn't decide to say no thanks to Danny's.
He's not exactly advocating heading to Dennings' office tomorrow morning and filling out the required paperwork, or having that conversation that he feels, a little uncomfortably, should probably have been had a week ago, but the idea of telling people pings just as wrong as the idea of not. Like if they don't, he might somehow been seen as being ashamed of it. He's not. Could never. Blown away, yes. Overwhelmed, sure. Terrified, definitely.
But ashamed?
Never. Never. Not of Steve. Never of Steve. Who is so much better than he gives himself credit for, because he takes credit in all the things people already see: the talent, the skill, the fearless and absolute loyalty to his duty. He doesn't ever see the way his heart gets taken away from him on the cases where kids get hurt, or parents are killed. He doesn't notice how above and beyond his care of the team is. How generous he can be. Compassionate, even. How nothing touches any member of his team, any of his people, without Steve taking swift action against it, and doing everything he can, personally, to improve the situation.
"I'm not saying we ought to go have a chat with Dennings tomorrow, but I get the feeling that people finding out by accident might be worse than the alternative. At the very least, Kono would definitely hit at least one of us."
It's sort of meant to be light-hearted, but it comes out tense and contracting along with the sudden painful compression in his chest. He might not be ashamed, but he is, alright, afraid. Right now, this is just theirs. Only them. In this together. There's time to figure things out, steps that can be tripped over, and it only screws with them, and no one else.
Bringing other people into it raises the stakes instantly, terribly. And he's not sure he's anywhere near ready for that. The best he can do is deflect it, like he did in the car, with Doris. I'm seeing someone.
We're taking it slow.
Yeah. Slow like an avalanche.