He waits long enough it's pushing it. Not quite to the point where he'd stared at his phone wondering if it might ring, and something might come up. From her, or from anyone on the team. But enough that he found himself prowling back and forth in the house, getting more and more picky about what he was working on, at pictures that hadn't moved since before he was born.
Enough that there is good reason for why he's sliding the truck through traffic on the way to meet her.
It had to happen at some point, but some point kept not being any of the times a message would roll across during a case. Or when they were heavy on a case, blotting out the world. Or he'd find a short voicemail while headed home, driving or picking up yet another case of beer, already expecting company. Or in the morning, when he was headed in to work.
And he hadn't missed all of them. There were the few times he'd been able to pick up. Usually in the office, when the only reason for the odd hour had to be some kind of shift differential on her end, which just pricked the edge of the growing cloud over the entire thing, the longer it drug out, making him answer. Even if his mouth was suddenly full of reasons he was, they were, justifiably, busy.
More than justifiably. But, also, suddenly like it needed to be there, so he couldn't be anywhere else. With anyone else.
Except now it was the weekend. Now he was out of his truck and looking at a place he hasn't seen in a good handful of months, maybe verging on half a year almost, on a weekend when Danny's got Grace and the Five-0's not needed. He'd called to check in with Chin and Malia, but opted out from Kono's invitation. It had somehow turned to evening. In one of those days where every moment drug through each second like a knife on skin.
Yet somehow the whole day was a strict sort of blur, like none of it had stood still, all of it tilting until just now and just here.
Steve doesn't give the parking lot any room or time, though. He's walked head on into worse. Right? If usually loaded full bear and with the kind of mood that didn't care what else was lost in the crossfire. Which this isn't. It's Cath. Which means all that's left is really to face it. To walk in, and slide past the hostess with a comment about meeting someone, after catching sight of Cath watching the ocean.
no subject
Enough that there is good reason for why he's sliding the truck through traffic on the way to meet her.
It had to happen at some point, but some point kept not being any of the times a message would roll across during a case. Or when they were heavy on a case, blotting out the world. Or he'd find a short voicemail while headed home, driving or picking up yet another case of beer, already expecting company. Or in the morning, when he was headed in to work.
And he hadn't missed all of them. There were the few times he'd been able to pick up. Usually in the office, when the only reason for the odd hour had to be some kind of shift differential on her end, which just pricked the edge of the growing cloud over the entire thing, the longer it drug out, making him answer. Even if his mouth was suddenly full of reasons he was, they were, justifiably, busy.
More than justifiably. But, also, suddenly like it needed to be there, so he couldn't be anywhere else. With anyone else.
Except now it was the weekend. Now he was out of his truck and looking at a place he hasn't seen in a good handful of months, maybe verging on half a year almost, on a weekend when Danny's got Grace and the Five-0's not needed. He'd called to check in with Chin and Malia, but opted out from Kono's invitation. It had somehow turned to evening. In one of those days where every moment drug through each second like a knife on skin.
Yet somehow the whole day was a strict sort of blur, like none of it had stood still, all of it tilting until just now and just here.
Steve doesn't give the parking lot any room or time, though. He's walked head on into worse. Right? If usually loaded full bear and with the kind of mood that didn't care what else was lost in the crossfire. Which this isn't. It's Cath. Which means all that's left is really to face it. To walk in, and slide past the hostess with a comment about meeting someone, after catching sight of Cath watching the ocean.