He does. If not for years of working together, then for the fact she actually has the truth in her hands. The kind of truth that could break a number of lives. A number of careers. And there's no part of him that thinks she would, or will. Because he knows her, at least as well as he's ever known anyone. All the lasting things, if not all of the fleeting ones.
She wouldn't. Jeopardize either of his careers. Their careers. Five-0. Danny's court case. All of which she'd been smart enough to throw together and at his head like quick fire rounds. He does owe her for that in the least. Even if it can't relaxe the muscles between his shoulders entirely, even then.
Not even the strange, awkward, warm rush that jets into his stomach about calling Danny can. Just the thought of it. It didn't even have to be for sex, like they were imply. Just to hear him ramble about what he did with Grace for the last two days and complain about Rachel, like it didn't mean he was announcing he missed his daughter like he'd lost how to breathe already, again, seconds after she got picked up.
Just to hear his voice. Which is something -- he can't even name or explain, only push down, push back wherever it came from.
When he plays at considering it. Her prompting. Stony brow and slight movement of his head back and forth, vision clouding like he was deep in thought, like he's toying with the additions and subtractions of any equation before, he pressed his lips and squints his eyes just barely. "That mean you want to follow this all up with dinner, then?"
He, actually, doesn't even sound horribly against it. It's just a flat, checking, question, that could go either way.
Even if the question can't help having some humor to it. Dinner. That they never made. Would they need to ever?
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-04-09 05:46 am (UTC)She wouldn't. Jeopardize either of his careers. Their careers. Five-0. Danny's court case. All of which she'd been smart enough to throw together and at his head like quick fire rounds. He does owe her for that in the least. Even if it can't relaxe the muscles between his shoulders entirely, even then.
Not even the strange, awkward, warm rush that jets into his stomach about calling Danny can. Just the thought of it. It didn't even have to be for sex, like they were imply. Just to hear him ramble about what he did with Grace for the last two days and complain about Rachel, like it didn't mean he was announcing he missed his daughter like he'd lost how to breathe already, again, seconds after she got picked up.
Just to hear his voice. Which is something -- he can't even name or explain, only push down, push back wherever it came from.
When he plays at considering it. Her prompting. Stony brow and slight movement of his head back and forth, vision clouding like he was deep in thought, like he's toying with the additions and subtractions of any equation before, he pressed his lips and squints his eyes just barely. "That mean you want to follow this all up with dinner, then?"
He, actually, doesn't even sound horribly against it. It's just a flat, checking, question, that could go either way.
Even if the question can't help having some humor to it. Dinner. That they never made. Would they need to ever?