(no subject)

[gonna_owe_me]

Steve is really good at avoiding her.

Normally, she probably wouldn't even call it "avoiding."  Normally, she would call it his usual M.O. and chalk it up to being a side effect of being halfway around the world from each other.  There are times they've gone for months with no contact, and two weeks is barely the blink of an eye, particularly when she's busy and he keeps getting high-profile, high-priority cases.

At least, that's what she hears, when she hears anything at all.

But those weeks and months of zero contact, running silent, off the grid: those days aren't exactly applicable when there are extenuating circumstances such as A. they are living on the same island and B. she knows there's something he really doesn't want to talk to her about.

Ergo, avoidance.

She's not an impatient or nosy person, though, so she lets it slide, for a little while.  He clearly needs to get used to the idea himself, and, frankly, so does she.  It's not that they haven't stumbled across a situation where one or the other of them was out of commission for their normal arrangement, but in general, those interrupting factors were not potentially career-threatening.  Not to the extent of sleeping with a subordinate.  Not to the extent of sleeping with a partner.  Not seriously.

And it is serious, whether Steve is admitting to it, or not.  It's splashed across him like someone doused him in paint and sticky sunlight, in the way he'd magnetized towards the door, the way he'd run out after Danny.  Maybe even more because he didn't bring it up until he absolutely had to.

So Steve is avoiding her, and she can sympathize, because this is not a conversation she particularly wants to sit through, either, but it still needs to happen, because, knowing Steve, he hasn't told anyone else and is shutting it back into compartments poorly designed for a situation of this magnitude and complexity.  

Which is why, when she called him on the next weekend inferred to be Danny's weekend with Grace, she's given him the benefit of both giving her the slip for two weeks and the peace offering of meeting at a place with really excellent drinks, one of which she has in hand as she sits at a table by an open window, chin in her hand, looking out at the quietly rolling ocean.  It's early evening, and she's come off a twelve hour shift, so it's nice to sit, let her thoughts unhinge, ebb and flow with the waves and mild breeze.  Wrangling an affirmative had proved to be difficult, but she'd managed it, pointing out that they might as well meet out, seeing as they're definitely going to make it to the restaurant this time.

It strips him of the home field advantage, too, but he's not the only one who knows how to keep a wall at his back and a few tricks up his sleeve.

Comments

[thebesteverseen]

Steve gave a partial shrug, more one shoulder than the rest while he was taking a pull off his beer, at the first question, which more along the lines of that's Danny. Things with them are only so clear at most given times, which this whole conversation made glaringly clear, again.

Without any option to address without debunking it from existing or throwing it at an exit door.

"At this point," there's a head tip. Sort of toward it being a given. Or toward it not being a subject anymore. Because it's been two weeks. It wasn't something that came up, in among kissing Danny into a wall and him slowly getting back to his feet, then back to work, then back to everything else.

"Though he was pretty adamant about my needing to call you up and inform you something about it all at the beginning," which is given an interesting expression. Something amusing, if half stuck in his thoughts, absent amusement. Toward that whole thing of having to report in to her. About anything, but especially about other people.

Something about being the vague Steve is not going to really look at the fact he actually got tensely insulted about the insinuation. Not the one that he was with Cath, but that he'd cheat on her, or anyone, without caring. Even if he hadn't actually given Danny the chance, with Gabby, for any other option or eventuality or pause, after those words were said in his living room.

[gonna_owe_me]

"Huh."

Her hands come up, fingers lacing slightly together, and she leans her cheek against the back of one, considering that. "I mean, it might have been nice to not wait until the last possible second to tell me, but yeah, no."

Which just confirms for her the suspicion that Danny thought the two of them were together, together. Which sort of explains why he'd turned white as a sheet and bolted from the house. Which wasn't actually accurate, but Danny seems like the kind of guy who's so used to putting pieces of evidence together on the job that he does it continually off the clock, too.

Still. Steve, calling to let her know ahead of time? Steve, considering...this to be more than a casual tussle when it's available?

The whole thought is bizarre in the extreme. She guesses it's possible, but it's been so long since she'd come to accept that what they have can't be defined by the standards of a normal, even purely physical, relationship that the whole idea feels as strange as trying to write with the wrong hand.

[thebesteverseen]

At least her reaction makes sense. A kind of surprised that is so low key it isn't surprise, like sympathy without cloying, closed in edges. Nothing like Danny's. Nothing like the sudden quiet and almost cold that made Steve sure he'd done something else wrong. Something he still wasn't sure wasn't a fault line waiting trap his heel whenever he wasn't expecting it.

Or that maybe Danny was storing each of those moments in a file somewhere until there were too many of them.

"I hadn't really planned on company." Danny had only left a handful of hours earlier. He was still catching up on his team. He was still playing punching bag to the rapid appearance and then disappearance of the mother who died in teens, and set off the whole chain reaction of his life.

All of which was easier than trying to even think of the words he said to Danny, or the fact Danny had stayed.

"Or having to tell anyone that soon." Or ever, is somewhere in his tone. But it's lighter, a tense kind of acceptance.

Like staring down the barrel of another gun pointed right at you. Right along with, "Or there being anything to tell," since the moment he broke it, they broke it down together, even he and Cath, there wasn't and there shouldn't have been.

But he couldn't pull up Danny's face -- Danny's face that was nothing like a gun, but maybe everything better and worse than it at the very same second -- and not feel that insane rush that clenched every muscle deep in his stomach, like he was digging in his heels.

Like he was going press the barrel, blue eyes and pink lips and five million words and sounds, with that crazy endless loyalty and goodness and always moving hands, like a dye splashed around for good measure, burning through his skin, his life, his world, worse than acid or cattle prods or heated knives or volts of electricity, right up against his forehead, right up against his heart, with no single hope the release wouldn't take everything he had left now.

[gonna_owe_me]

His last line gets a slight huff of laughter, as she straightens back up in her seat, and finally reaches for her ahi, eyebrows arching like the sashimi has something to do with this whole situation. "Yeah, I remember you saying. But it looks like it's survived at least a couple more weeks."

Unsaid is what's already known, underlined against the words: that it's survived a few more weeks without anyone else finding out, and without blowing up in their faces.

She's starting to try and wrap her head around it, starting to try and picture it. Steve, tall and debonair; Danny, jaunty and gruff at the best of times. Her mental picture of Danny is probably less than accurate: the most time she's ever spent with him was at that fundraiser, and she doesn't think he normally dresses either in a suit like that one or in the t-shirt and jeans he'd shown up at Steve's door in.

The whole thing is difficult to imagine, to say the least.

She should probably make an effort to get to know him, honestly, especially since Steve is...

Well, looking like that. Relaxing a little, just thinking about him. Mouth quirking into a smile despite himself. Making Cath study him under the guise of a glance towards his face, while her heart twists in confusion between what she's seeing now and what she's never seen, before.

[thebesteverseen]

That's not entirely untrue, and just the thought of that. It not being untrue, even when he knows it doesn't exactly mean much either, still feels like it's this unexplainable force pushing space into his chest. Between his ribs, betwen his lungs and muscles, between the successive breaths of air and beats of his heart.

Something more suspiciously confusing than comforting, but fragile and present. Even when his words are economic and even, maybe even undermining of the significance of her statement. "It's been a crazy few weeks. He's just now coming off a pretty good rough up from an undercover case."

Because forty to sixty hours a week he's still a detective, and Steve's partner. Not the person in his bed.

Except. Somehow he is, also. Was. That person physically present in his bed still, recently, because he made some promise in the dead of the night about just being there if Danny needed him. For beer and to unwind. And. Just to sleep like shit, while Danny laid siege to his bed, hissing when he shifted wrong. Which was, actually, almost entirely gone now.

He grumbled about it all still -- he wouldn't be Danny is he wasn't -- but he was actually back to sleeping. And Steve was there. Waking up. Falling back asleep. As, at times, irritably, annoyed by the constant waking up on night two or three, as confused and at a loss for this first half minute when he was waking up to any sound the house made, to an empty bed, the first time Danny was gone, again.

Whatever that meant. Whatever that wasn't. Whatever that was.

[gonna_owe_me]

It's one thing to tease Steve, it's another to point out in frustration the cliff-edge he and Danny are hurtling toward; it's another entirely, a heartless matter, to do either when a member of his team isn't fighting fit, when they'd come off a rough job. She pulls a mental file card of Danny back to the forefront of her mind, studies it: he'd looked like a fairly capable sort of person. Short, but with blunt strength like a boxer's in his shoulders and back.

She doesn't like the thought of him getting roughed up enough for it to last a few weeks, or what that implies about the case itself. "Is he alright? Nothing that's going to hurt his weekend with his daughter, right?"

Presumably not, or Steve might have mentioned it: at the very least, he must be up and mobile, not still in the hospital. "Speaking of, how's Chin's wife? She must be getting stronger, now."

Possibly still in the hospital, definitely still on bedrest. Getting shot's no laughing matter, no matter where it hits, and Chin's wife -- Malia -- being hit right in the chest, that'll take some serious convalescing.

"It sounds like the team is back on it's feet, at least, if you're running cases that rough again."

[thebesteverseen]

"He's good. They all are." Steve shook his head, pushing away at her sudden wash of concern. The way it was all almost guilt tinged, like she'd walked all over someone hurt. Which was so Cath, and worth fixing fast, even as he sat back for the waitress who reappeared with the plate of his coconut shrimp. "Danny refused time off, but he was stuck in the office until earlier this week."

Something Steve was entirely ready to shove behind him. Stealing the camaro for a single day without him was too many.

"Grace probably won't even know the differences." Or at least Steve assumes Danny's hoping for that, and depending on what they get up to will really inform on whether Grace figures it out or not. She a pretty smart kid when it all comes down to it. But with the court case new, there was a touchiness toward anything effecting his time with Grace, especially now.

Steve picked up a flaking piece of shrimp, dragging it off a skewer. "And Malia's getting better. Chin's talking about moving her home soon, with the help of nurse who'd come by to check on her for the fist week or two, until they've got everything down themselves." Which does and does touch on that point where Chin is gone in the oddest hours, and without warning at times.

Who still both wants to do his job. Not let down the team. And wants to be there in any minute his wife might need him.

[gonna_owe_me]

She nods, toying with a piece of ahi before lifting it to eat. "Glad you're not too short-handed."

Or at all. Five-0 is mind-bogglingly small, the kind of elite task force she's watched and coached from a distance, but never been a part of. One man down on that team would be one man too many, and Steve's already lost too many people in Jenna Kaye and Lori Weston -- only one of whom she'd met, both she'd barely heard about, but it was enough.

They were part of Steve's team: that makes their loss too much of one.

The ahi is phenomenal, the kind of fresh that means it was probably swimming this morning or late last night, and she munches on it thoughtfully, considering Five-0, the way they'd limped to their feet, how badly the team would shatter if Steve and Danny were found out.

It's possible it wouldn't ruin everything. With the repeal of DADT, Steve wouldn't suffer for being with a man, but there's just so much more to it: their jobs and the people they work with, the Governor and HPD. And it's not like old habits don't die hard, if they kick the bucket at all.

But that's neither here nor there. Steve said he knew the risks, he's calculated the possible outcomes. Anything she has to say on the matter is beating a dead horse, which means her role has shifted back to that of support: whatever he needs, whenever he needs it, with the sure knowledge that if she ever turned the tables and called him for help, he'd be there before she put the phone down. "You've got a pretty resilient group."

[thebesteverseen]

"They're not willing to be anything less," Steve says, but there's earned pride, even if it comes out reckless fast. They've earned it. Every single one of them has earned it in the last three years. All the people there and not there. Every single member of Five-0 has pulled their weight, and mattered. Refusing as much as possible to slow down, keeping up to a pace that would unthinkable elsewhere.

When more than not he knows each of them has thrown into to trying to keep up with him.

The way only death, and Wo Fat could take Jenna. And the way Lori's loyalty was the last nail in her coffin.

The way he knows Kono isn't absolutely fine still, but she's keeping it to herself. Drowning isn't a thing that goes away. Neither is blacking out and knowing you were dying. He'd bet she still wakes up to it, even now, weeks later. But she doesn't let it slip. And she doesn't slow down. And she never lets it hold her back from getting right back out there in the waves every time she can. With the kind of fierceness he can read like a fist fight.

Refusing to let it take the ocean from her. The way only someone who's lost it before can.

[gonna_owe_me]

"I'm not sure they'd have made it anywhere near this far if they were anything less." She's wry but smiling, reaching for another piece of ahi. "You're a hard act to keep up with."

At the beginning, she would have said he wouldn't have stayed. That once he'd found Victor Hesse, avenged his father, he'd have dissolved the team and moved on, went back to tightly classified missions on the other side of the world.

But he hadn't. He'd stayed. Found something worth staying for, worth giving up that other life, the one he'd so excelled at. She knows it eats at him, sometimes, the way being land-locked eats at her, but so far he hasn't jumped ship, left the task force to Chin or Danny and bid farewell to the islands. He's found a home again, here, without so much putting down roots as just clinging with bare fingers to the calm green bulk of Waianae Range, digging stubbornly into the sand like a crab.

She's almost envious, but not really. It's a nice place to be, Oahu, and she appreciates how close to him Pearl allows her to be, but it's not her place, not her home.

Still, it'll be good. Being nearby. And maybe she can finally get some surfing in.

[thebesteverseen]

Steve made an easy, fast dismissive sound, as he popped another shrimp in his mouth. It was one thing to think it. It was another to claim it, or even . They were a brilliant team, and they would have been brilliant even without him, in their disparate lives.

"They did amazing, even when I was gone. You should see the files for those weeks."

That much was clear just in leaving and coming back. It gave him the chance to see what they were made of, and what they made of. Aside from the whole Danny scare tactic-ing a few people in ways that were decidedly more like Steve, than like Danny himself, the rest is brilliant. A written document on that proof that he'd known when he left. Hoped, more than known. But knew solidly now.

He'd been right about not needing to worry about them. That they had everything in hand. That even with Danny's slips, he'd been the right person to put in charge. That they'd all stepped up, spread out further, took on more, and totally were entirely capable of doing it without him.

[gonna_owe_me]

"Yeah, no thanks. I've still got some news to catch up on while I'm here; I'm sure I'll see their writing all over it."

No doubt. Five-0's made a splash, and there's no getting around it. The criminals are getting tougher, more desperate, but she's seen Five-0's mark all across the islands. People are looking to them, to make a statement, to keep them safe, and even HPD's getting a little of the glory.

Steve's pet task force turned out to be a hell of a lot more than just that, after all.

That's good. He's still making a mark on the world, still working with exceptional people. She swirls a last piece of ahi in some sauce, pops it in her mouth, chews thoughtfully. "That's what you get for hiring the right group."

[thebesteverseen]

"Aside from Kono needing to be trained up," And even that doesn't sound so much like a slight as just a fact over two years old now. "They were already great at what they were doing. I just gave them another post to do it at." A post without so many rules. One without red tape, jurisdiction, an actual dictator. "A better one."

And a chance. He knows. He gave them a certain ones of them a chance they needed. Especially Chin. Danny. Jenna. Not on purpose each of those times, but it still happened. It was still true. People who'd broken the walls in the boxes they'd been in, or been something like stuck, under the collapsed walls, stubbornly refusing to break. Each of them in their own ways.

They just needed another chance. Another place where they could do good. Where someone would let them try.

They'd proved it could outlive him, too. Which was a compliment to the system. It shouldn't need him to stand.

[gonna_owe_me]

"Sure," she agrees, seeking out a piece of ginger and gesturing with it, while watching him with fond skepticism. "I'm sure whatever they were doing before was just as effective and elite as the task force. And it probably opened just as many doors."

She doesn't know a lot about the formation of the group, aside from the fact that Kono came fresh out of the Academy and had been a pro-surfer beforehand, and that Danny was new on the island, transferred from New Jersey -- which she knows not because Steve said so, but because no one who spends more than thirty seconds with Danny could escape hearing it.

What she does know is that Steve has a knack for spotting potential in even the most unlikely places -- say, a feisty surfer girl with an aloha attitude and a mean right hook. The task force hardly seems like a band of misfits now, but she'd wondered about it the first time she'd heard that he'd hung up a shingle in the name of the State of Hawaii.

"You picked them. I'm pretty sure that means you get to take at least some of the credit."

[thebesteverseen]

Steve flicked a glance up at her, as though distantly considering that whole notion. Claiming credit.

Claiming their work. Their collecting, which grew from just needing bodies, to all of this. Like it was his to own.

Like it was something he should consider, anymore than owning up to the other things he'd done in the twenty years of his life. That never saw words. Before he just flicked his mouth toward a blase kick of a smile, gave a shrug of his shoulders, before he chowing down on another piece of shrimp and tossing back a swig of his Longboard.

Like that had to be far more important than the concept she was throwing out. Taking some ownership in it.

Something that wasn't the daily ownership one, that rolled itself into an on-going responsibility as important, no maybe even more important than breathing. That these were his people, and he'd do anything he could to see that each of them came home each day or night, and that no one fucked with them.

[gonna_owe_me]

She grins at his silence, the way his mouth pulls just slightly, and shrugs, reaching for hr drink and settling back with it in one hand, the other toying with her straw.

"Fine. None of it has anything to do with you and it was all dumb luck you managed to recruit a perfect storm of task force candidates. Happy?"

It's better, now. Easier. He's not as tense, and she's not as worried. He's still being an idiot, but at least he's aware of the level of fucked he'll be if this goes wrong in the ninety-nine ways out of a hundred in which it can. Part of her wonders if he would ever have put up this kind of fight for her, but she brushes it aside like an annoying fly; it's not worth wondering about, and anyway, that part of their relationship is done for now. Maybe someday it'll start up again, but right now, her role is exactly the one she's taking: at his back.

[thebesteverseen]

He's mouth gets the better of him, when he's smiling like he won. But at the same time a fond, of the fact she's letting him, while not letting him, and goading him about the fact he obviously must have put some work into it. Licking his fingertips from the grease and coconut from his last bite of shrimp being popped in right then, before he said, a little argumentatively bright, "I didn't say none of it."

And, sure, maybe he did. Have a little to do with it. But maybe some of it was dumb luck, too. Maybe a whole damn lot of the beginning, actually.The HPD happening to assign Danny to Jack McGarrett's murder. That Chin hadn't gone rogue or bitter after what the HPD did him. That taking a chance on Kono, with only Chin's word to go on, when he'd not known the man since his teens, for more than a handful of hours, worked out as well as it had.

Certainly not Max, with his baffling tendencies and oddest quirks. Jenna who'd decided to go rogue on her whole department, and showboat him with a suit, only to have a hotel full of black book intel. When Lori was lashed on to the whole of Five-0 as a leash. Some of it was astronomically things he couldn't have, then, predicted. Or truly known on sight.

Had an idea about within a few weeks, sure.

But not when he was recruiting them, or being saddled with them, that very first day

[gonna_owe_me]

"That sounds more like it."

It's not that Steve is a glory hog, far from it. He's perfectly aware of his own capabilities, and pushes himself to be better, faster, stronger, through what seems like pure willpower alone, because nobody's that naturally gifted. Any natural talents he lacks, he makes up for in determination, working at it, training every day, until he gets it right. And sure. There are things he lets slide, considers a waste of resources for him to know; there are plenty of things he's not the best at, not perfect at, plenty he's competent with, and a whole slew he's got no idea how to do at all --

But none of that is visible on first approach, and it makes for a formidable impression.

Which is why she's got nothing but respect for the rest of Five-0. She loves the guy, but he can be a handful to deal with, and it's true that they must all be exceptional to even have made it on his radar, either in fact or in potential. he's not running them over; they're holding their own, and she thinks it must be a good thing, for him and for them.

No matter how rocky it probably was at first.

They'll never find a more loyal partner, that's the other thing. She hears the tone in his voice when he talks about his team; the affection mingled with proprietary pride. Heaven help the Governor or outside force that actually tries to split them up.

[thebesteverseen]

Steve rolled his eyes, again. But his smile turned sideways from rejectingly, fondly, amused this time. Like he was humoring her to admit it. Or maybe admitting that she was all the more appreciated or loved for humoring him in a deprecation few people would understand. The differences between responsibility, ownership and credit where credit was due.

The kind that blurred a lot more when you were the face of something as noticeable as Five-0, and it was as different as night and day. When everything could be traced and tracked exactly back, and people knew your face, or reported on what you did specifically. The kinds of things ground into his skin for decades that he did not do his job for, because they would never be happening.

The kinds of work where even Cath, who'd been here all these years, knew more of what he did now than any of the details he could have ever revealed then. Bits of cloudy allusion. The length's of missions, new scars, and freely given opinions on countries, or even types of food, they'd never talked about previously.

When he can settle for the exasperated fondness that spreads slow, but warm in his chest at her expression and teasing. And understanding that she's come to had over a lot of time. Enough to know what to poke and what not to. For the fact she's still smiling, even after the earlier severe expressions of earlier that could come out as easily, too.

That maybe this is some kind of impasse on that at least. So he gives her the goofy, proud, slightly fond smile, but leaves it at that. Pushing his plate toward the center of the table, as he lifted his beer. "Want the last one?"

[gonna_owe_me]

She glances appraisingly at the shrimp, then looks back up at him with her eyes innocuously wide, the picture of disbelieving delight. "For me?"

Suddenly girly and giggly in her tone, as if this actually were a date. Never mind the fact that if it had been, she never would have made it more than halfway down her drink, and he probably wouldn't have ordered at all. Never mind that they would already be in his truck, or maybe even at his house, stumbling and laughing, tripping over each others' feet until he'd give up and just sling her into his arms.

But it's not a night like that, so she drops the disingenuous act and grins with triumph as she snags the shrimp and pops it in her mouth with her shining eyes turned back to him and her nose wrinkling into an expression of affectionate amusement. "Don't have to ask me twice. Chow's better when it's not, strictly speaking, yours to begin with." Her head tips to one side, and she gives it some deep thought.

"Also, when someone else pays for it."

[thebesteverseen]

The laughter trips its way out of him, with a shake of his head, downing another long pull on his Longboard. Even when he feels like the ground is still laden with land mines, here, between them, in case the topic of conversation so much as listed in the direct of Danny again, he can't deny he's missed her.

That it's strange to see so much of her for so long, with work in the middle of it. But still missed her.

Beautiful and competent, able to slip in and out of business and fun like they are hats you pick up and put down. The latter always less important, but the one they got to get lost in, while knowing the first was the more important thing to both of them. The whole run through. Which makes it so much easier to tip his head, and razz back.

"Wait. You mean you aren't paying for this?" Hilariously beat shocked and so see-through about ribbing her for her own words. "Who asked who out to this thing, again?"

[gonna_owe_me]

Her mouth twists, and she considers the ceiling with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "See, you're saying I'm the one who should be forking over cash tonight, but what I'm hearing is, 'Oh, Cath, I'm sorry I never actually paid for a really nice dinner for you over the years, here, let me make it up to you.'"

Returning her eyes to his face, she shrugs, lips tucked into an expression that's nowhere near as neutral as it's attempting to be, partly because it's dimpling the corners of her mouth, more due to the way her eyes sparkle. "Or am I translating incorrectly?"

Okay. So he's an idiot. He's being an idiot, and if he gets caught, it'll spell ruin for both him and Danny, and might wind up tearing his task force apart. Not to mention it's so far against the rules part of her wonders if he hit his head really hard, knocked it against some blacktop or a criminal's skull, and forgot that whole part of who he is and what he does.

But it's still Steve. Still the goofball who let her take that ridiculous picture of him during some downtime. Still her friend. Still a loyal, dedicated officer.

In the end, it's not really a question where she's going to find herself standing.

[thebesteverseen]

"So, let me get this straight," Steve gestured with his beer bottle. Pointing to one side with the top, and then toward her. Like walking through the facts of a case, or the point on the wall. Like his eyes weren't dark blue and coolly, smoothly amused, even when stacking the deck and reading off his hand in flawless form. "I'm paying and I'm getting nothing out of it, this time?"

No Cath with her legs wrapped around him. Or smothering laughter in his shoulder, while literally challenging him to keep up or show up with his best seconds before or after it. Or the way her cool demeanor melts away until she can't stop the spill of words from her lips, and the words are echoing in the house with the sound of her voice, loud and shameless.

He doesn't think Danny would get it. His saying that. Especially now. Even if they aren't whatever are or aren't. But he's pretty sure she will. He doesn't really remember them all that clearly, but he can try to pull on how things were when she wasn't available in the past, even if it was only in ones or twos so far apart, the guys were usually gone by the time another half year or longer passed, before they ran into each other, again.

[gonna_owe_me]

Up goes one slim eyebrow. "You're the one who drew that line, sailor. Not me. Believe me, you're getting off easy."

Shrugging, she leans back with her own drink, now nearing the end, a few drops left among crystal, crushed ice. "You're going to have to call someone else for that tonight."

His -- whatever Danny is. Partner. Friend. Thing. Not his boyfriend. Something that might still end at any moment. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you owe me."

That eyebrow arches further, and is joined by the other in a silent challenge. He doesn't really want to go through a reckoning of all the favors he's asked for right now, surely.

[thebesteverseen]

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?