Chapter 2

Leilani shuts the doors behind the last customer, at 6.03pm, and Steve can't help sighing with relief.

"We need another pair of hands, boss," she says, passing him both the register drawers. "Days like this are too hard on you."

Steve gives her a quick smile. "I can cope, for now. But you were great today; I really appreciate it."

She nods, and picks up a pile of DVDs to be re-shelved. Steve immerses himself in the counting process, focusing on the feel of cash in his hands and the tally of numbers in his head.

Leilani comes back downstairs and asks, "Hey, you need a ride tonight? I don't have to be at the concert hall until 7.30, so I've got some time."

"That'd be awesome, thanks," Steve says, so she waits while he puts the takings in the safe. It was a good day, in purely financial terms.

They chat easily in the car, mostly about music. Leilani is a cellist, and has already earned first chair in UH's orchestra despite only being a junior. Steve, Danny, Mom, and Chin attended her end-of-year recital last month, when she made her debut as soloist.

She played brilliantly, but Steve found it difficult to endure. Elgar wrote his cello concerto just after World War I, and poured his horror and despair into it. And Leilani's favorite uncle was killed in Iraq, so she imbued the music with her own lingering grief.

Though Steve had listened to the work before, on CD, hearing it performed live hit him hard. The haunting sounds evoked matching visuals in his mind, a slideshow of the death and devastation he'd seen – and caused – in Afghanistan and elsewhere. Even with his eyes open, it didn't stop.

He did his best to hide it, but Danny somehow knew: he leaned in close and gave Steve his hand, letting him squeeze it tightly as their breathing slowly synced up. They only let go at the end, when Steve applauded mostly out of relief. Afterwards, though, he congratulated Leilani on a moving performance and meant every word.

Tonight, Leilani is heading to a Honolulu Philharmonic concert – she and some other music students get in for free, if they serve as ushers beforehand. It's an all-Beethoven program, including the 'Emperor' piano concerto which is Steve's favorite, and he'd been seriously tempted to break his long-standing boycott of the orchestra. Now he's glad he decided not to go, because Danny needs him.

Steve quit attending HPO concerts back in 2003, after the board fired Chin on suspicion of embezzling half its endowment fund. But an elderly, terminally ill violinist who'd spent his entire career with the orchestra came forward, a few months ago, and confessed to stealing the money. He'd framed Chin out of jealousy, he admitted, after Chin got chosen as concertmaster over him despite being much younger. The thief was arrested and charged, but succumbed to cancer before being sentenced.

Following that revelation, the HPO offered to let Chin audition again, and many of Chin's relatives apologized for believing the worst of him for so long. But Chin hasn't played in years – he'd been forced to sell all his beloved violins after the scandal – and he's found a decade of alienation hard to forgive.

So Chin has stayed on at Mamo's, and stuck with the people who never doubted him...but Steve's noticed that his posture seems less tense now, and that he's quicker to smile. And the orchestra's conductor has strongly encouraged its members to resume their patronage of the store; guilt money or not, it's been a very welcome boost to takings.

If this keeps up, it's possible Chin and Steve could offer their latest Sunday part-timer some extra work. Natalie is a UH English major with some provocative opinions about literature, and Steve's enjoyed every conversation they've had so far. She'd be a big help to him on Saturdays, if only for a few hours in the middle of the day.

Leilani pulls up outside Danny's place, and Steve insists on chipping in gas money –driving her disabled boss around definitely wasn't in the job description. Inside, he finds Grace at the kitchen table and his mom at the stove.

Mom sketches a salute with her wooden spoon; Grace looks up with a big smile and says, "Hi, Steve," before refocusing her attention on the carrot she's slicing with remarkable precision.

"Hey, folks," he says, toeing off his shoes. "SitRep?"

"All personnel present and accounted for," Mom says. "Our patient is currently napping, and seems much improved since my last report."

Steve grins as he crosses the kitchen. "I thought you would've left already. Isn't it poker night?"

Mom frowns when she sees how badly he's limping; she doesn't comment on it, but rubs his back soothingly as they hug.

"I called Pat and said I'd be late. We don't start playing until after dinner, anyway."

"Well, thanks for sticking around," he says. "I really didn't feel up to cooking tonight."

Also, not having to wait for take-out means Steve can pop more Advil sooner rather than later.

"Danny kept down some applesauce and crackers, earlier," Mom says, "so I thought he might be able to handle rice with plain veggies. I'll stir-fry some beef for us, too."

"Sounds perfect." Steve pours himself some water, and sits beside Grace. "How was your day, sweetheart?"

"Good. Danno's mostly been sleeping, so he wasn't very hard to look after."

Steve nods. "Hey, I've got great news for you: Kai came third."

But Grace just grins and says, "I know. He emailed me during the prize giving."

Steve must be getting old, because he still can't quite grasp ten-year-olds having smartphones. He glances at his mom, who's apparently thinking along the same lines; she gives him a wry smile.

Grace gets up and carefully tips the vegetables into the steamer. Then she grabs her phone, to show Steve a slightly blurry picture of Kai's silver trophy.

"Very cool," he says.

"Dinner will be ready in ten," Mom tells him. "Go wash up, and see if you can drag Danny out of bed to join us."

When he enters the dimly-lit bedroom he finds Danny curled up on his side, facing the door. Steve thinks of leaving him to sleep, but then Danny opens his eyes.

"Hey, bookman," he mumbles.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Steve pushes back Danny's tousled hair and leans down to kiss his forehead – not nearly so feverish now, thank God. "Hey. How do you feel?"

"A lot better."

Steve winces as he straightens up again, and Danny's eyes narrow. "How are you doing? Out of ten?"

Danny's adopted Chin's pain rating system, and is just as insistent on honest answers.

So Steve reluctantly admits, "Eight; maybe even nine, now."

"Jesus, babe," Danny says, sitting up in bed to pull him close.

Steve sighs, and rests his cheek on Danny's hair. God, he needed this. Having Danny to come home to is one of the few things that makes the bad days bearable.

"You can't keep working Saturdays with just one assistant," Danny says, his words muffled a little against Steve's shirt. "Nine hours without a break, and without the heavy-duty pain pills to get you through...even on the best days, you're worn out. And the days when you wind up a total wreck are happening more and more."

Steve had fobbed Leilani off, earlier, but he won't lie to Danny. "Yeah, I know. It's getting worse."

"Do you need to go back to the specialist, get everything checked out?"

"I think it's mostly that the store's getting busier, more than my knee deteriorating," Steve says.

He probably is overdue for an orthopedic assessment up at Tripler, though; artificial knees don't last forever, especially when they get as much use as Steve's does. But Steve's not sure he could face the prospect of yet more surgery and months of agonizing rehab after that – and that's leaving aside the impact of his absence on Mamo's. Even worse would be hearing that nothing could be done to fix his knee, and that he had to use crutches or a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

Danny must feel the way Steve has tensed up at these thoughts, breathing faster, because he strokes Steve's back.

"Hey, hey, it's okay; we can talk about this later."

"Yeah, sorry," Steve says, exhaling hard. "Uh, I was supposed to check if you wanted to eat with us – it's steamed vegetables and rice."

There's a pause, and then Danny huffs out a laugh. "Sadly, that sounds really good right now. If this nausea doesn't clear up, I won't be able to face anything tastier than that for days. But at least I might end up shedding some pounds."

Steve shifts one hand to the slight curve of Danny's belly, and rubs gently. Despite his sweet tooth and fondness for fast food, Danny works out and keeps himself in pretty good shape. Steve would love him either way, fatter or thinner, but doesn't say so – his nerves feel a little too raw, just now. He hopes the gesture will speak for him, and the way Danny hums against Steve's shoulder suggests that it does.

"I should shower before dinner," Danny says, pulling back. "I feel gross, and probably smell even worse. These sheets will need changing, too."

"I can do that," Steve offers, but Danny shakes his head.

"Go sit down, take the weight off your knee; I can manage. Have you taken one of your pills?"

"Can't," Steve says simply. "If you get worse tonight, I need to be firing on all cylinders so I can help you."

Danny stares at him. "I can't tell if that's stupidly romantic or just stupid."

"I'm used to pain," Steve argues, "but I'm not used to looking after people. I don't want to let you down, Danny. I'll just take another dose of Advil with dinner."

"I'll make you a deal," Danny counters. "If I'm feeling about the same or better by the time we go to bed, then you take a prescription painkiller. They don't knock you out flat, not like your sleeping pills, and I trust you to take care of me even if you're groggy. Okay?"

Steve sighs – it goes against his instincts, but he really could do with the pain relief. "Yeah, okay."

Danny makes a shooing motion. "Go have dinner, and tell Cynthia I'll be there soon."

At the table, Steve just focuses on eating enough to cushion the Advil's impact on his stomach. His mom must have mentioned that Steve wasn't feeling too good; Grace is practically bouncing in her chair, for some reason, but she doesn't pepper him with questions like usual. Instead, she and Mom talk to each other, mostly about books Grace has read or wants to read.

When there's a lull in the conversation, though, Steve turns to Grace.

"Hey, Mrs. Keawe came in this afternoon, and wanted to thank you for suggesting Ballet Shoes to her granddaughter Emily. Apparently she couldn't put it down...she even wanted to read at breakfast."

"Oh, cool – I thought she'd like it," Grace says. "Her mom's making her take dance classes, but Emily told me she really wants to be a mechanic when she grows up, like her uncle Mike. And I remembered that Petrova Fossil works on cars and stuff, in that book."

Steve can't help smiling at that; Oahu really is such a small place. Michael Keawe had been his first male crush, way back in middle school. And now the daughter of Steve's male partner is advising Michael's niece on her reading choices.

Danny comes out to join them, then, freshly-showered and clean-shaven. He takes the empty chair to Steve's left, so they can sit with their legs pressed together from knee to ankle.

Mom dishes Danny up a small helping. "This is as bland as I could make it – but just pace yourself, okay?"

"Thanks, Cynthia." Danny cuts his vegetables up small, while Mom goes back to telling Grace about other great kids' books set before World War II.

Steve looks around at the three of them, all so dear to him in different ways. Sadly, they don't often get to sit down for a family meal like this: Danny works long hours, Mom has school commitments and a busy social life, and Grace is only around two nights per week.

Rachel and Danny's relationship has thawed considerably, though, so there's now more flexibility in the custody arrangements. Steve's birthday had fallen on a Monday, this year, but Grace had been allowed to come out to dinner with him, Danny, and Mom. They'd gone to Steve's favorite Japanese restaurant, where the large aquarium along one wall had kept Grace transfixed – once she'd been assured that none of its inhabitants would end up on her plate, at least.

The Advil must be taking effect, or maybe it's just being able to sit still without interruption. Either way, Steve's better able to follow the conversation after a while, and hearing Grace's enthusiasm for classic books sparks an idea.

"Hey, Gracie," he says, "how would you feel about writing reviews of some classic chapter books, for me to put up in the kids' section?"

"Like a book report?" Grace asks.

Steve nods. "Just a paragraph or two on each of your favorites, maybe. A lot of kids don't go for old-fashioned stuff the way you do, but they might be interested if someone their age recommended it."

Danny's been much quieter than normal, eating slowly and methodically, but he speaks up now. "Sounds like a good summer project. You've always liked doing book reports."

Grace looks thoughtful. "I have to keep a reading log for summer school. But I'd be reviewing books for Mamo's that I've read before, so they wouldn't count." She tilts her head at Steve. "Will you pay me?"

There's a spluttering noise, as Danny tries not to laugh with his mouth full of Gatorade. "You definitely got your mom's business sense, monkey," he eventually manages, but he sounds proud rather than disapproving of her initiative.

Steve thinks of how his mother bribed him with books when he was little, so he'd sit quietly while she browsed at Mamo's. From the look on her face, Mom's thinking of that too.

So he says to Grace, "You've got eight weeks left of vacation, right? How about this: if you write two short reviews per week, I'll buy you one book in exchange. Maximum sticker price of ten dollars," he hastily adds, because Steve loves giving her books but he's not made of money.

Grace beams at him. "Okay."

She puts out her hand, and Steve shakes it. Danny pulls out his phone, and snaps a picture to commemorate the deal.

"So did you have any funny customers?" Grace asks, just like she usually does.

Steve mostly remembers the pain from today, not the people; he can't tell Grace that, though. She understands that his leg hurts him, but not the true extent of it.

"Well, I got a 'blue book' request," he says.

His mom grins, familiar with these stories. "What unhelpfully vague thing did the customer remember, this time?"

Steve imitates the cadences of the surfer guy who'd approached him, late afternoon. "The book was, like, this big, brah...and the cover was red, and there was a black tree on the front."

"That's more to go on than some of my crime scene eyewitnesses ever manage," Danny says.

"I've definitely dealt with worse, yeah," Steve says, because some customers literally only remember the color of a book they'd seen. "The guy recalled seeing the book in the front window, but I was able to find a copy on the shelf. He looked so impressed, like I'd pulled a rabbit out of a hat."

That's one of the advantages of ordering and shelving all the books himself; Steve actually does know what book was displayed where, and often can recall what the cover looked like. He'd been trained in reconnaissance and praised by his instructors for his accurate and detailed memory, but never expected to use those skills like this.

The conversation continues, mostly light and fun, until they're done eating. Steve's pain is back down to a seven or so, now, and Danny's looking a little healthier than he did earlier.

"Hey, Gracie," Danny says, putting down his fork, "you seem pretty hyper for someone who got woken up way too early. Has Cynthia been feeding you candy all day?"

Grace shakes her head. "I'm just excited – because guess what? I figured out a way that you and Steve could live together, and everybody would be happy!"

Steve and Danny look at each other and then back at Grace, stunned, while Mom tells her, "I thought we agreed to save that surprise until your dad was feeling better, sweetheart."

"Sorry," Grace says, "but I just couldn't wait any longer."

Danny blinks at her. "Well, now I'm curious. How about you, Steve?"

Steve glances at his mother, who gives him a small apologetic shrug. Then he leans back and says, "Yeah, me too. Okay, Gracie, let's hear it."

Bouncing in her chair, Grace says in a rush, "Danno, you should move into Steve's house, and Cynthia should move in here. It's like you'd be swapping places, see?"

Danny and Steve both look from Grace at Mom, who lifts one hand to forestall their questions.

"It's not a crazy idea, or not from my perspective anyway," she says. "My arthritis is steadily worsening, and it's getting harder to manage the stairs. I've been thinking for a while that I'll need to move. And this apartment is exactly the kind of place I'd be looking for: a decent size, flat access, parking right outside, and much closer to school and to downtown than our house."

"But that's your home, Mom," Steve protests. "I could move out, and let you take over the downstairs."

She shakes her head. "The house was modified for your needs; it's where you can be as safe and comfortable as possible, so you should stay. I love the place, don't get me wrong, but I've been living there for almost 40 years now and it's time for a change. And while it's far too big for just one person, it'd do very nicely for two and a half people."

"I'm not a half person," Grace says indignantly.

"You're with your dad less than half the time, I meant," Mom says, which seems to mollify her.

Danny is looking thoughtful, but he hasn't said anything yet. Steve stays quiet, too...this really has to be Danny's choice, because it's not Steve's life that would be turned upside down.

But God, Steve wants it. He wants to sleep beside Danny, every night; he wants to spend more time with Grace, too. He wants to fix them dinner in his specially-adapted kitchen. He wants to shower with Danny purely for enjoyment's sake, instead of for his safety.

Steve's never lived with a partner before, but he loves Danny so much more than he ever loved anyone else – even Cath – and he thinks Danny is the one to take that chance with. And while it's not the only commitment he can picture himself making to Danny, it'd be a pretty good start.

Grace breaks the silence. "So what do you think of my idea?"

"I think it was clever of you to think of it, monkey, but Steve and I will need to talk it over," Danny tells her. "In the meantime, can you clear the table please?"

Once Grace is rinsing the plates, Mom leans across the table and says in a low voice, "I really am sorry about her springing it on you like that. But I did think of another point in favor of this scenario: the extra space at the house could be useful if the girls go ahead with their project."

She's being deliberately vague in case Grace overhears, but Steve and Danny both nod in understanding.

The 'girls' are Cath and her partner Laura, and the 'project' is Steve being their sperm donor. It's something the three of them have talked about for quite a while, and the current plan is to start trying early next year.

The idea is that Steve will be an acknowledged part of the baby's life, with regular visitation. Danny's given his blessing; Grace is pretty likely to approve as well, seeing as how she adores her honorary aunties, but they won't tell her until Cath's safely into her second trimester.

"If you two want to talk now," Mom continues, "I can stick around a while longer and keep Grace occupied."

"That'd be good, yeah," Danny says, so Steve follows him into his bedroom and closes the door behind them.

Once they're both sitting on his bed, Danny says, "So: thoughts?"

Steve looks down at his hands, twisted together in his lap. "It sounds great to me," he says quietly. "But it's a plan that gives me pretty much everything I want, without requiring any major sacrifice on my part. So your opinion's got to carry more weight, here."

Danny reaches out to wrap his fingers around Steve's wrists, stilling his fidgeting. But it seems like forever until he says, "Yeah, I do feel that it could work. You know I haven't wanted to rush into anything; I did that with Rachel, and look how our marriage turned out. But you and me...we spend most nights together already, and I still miss you when you're not around. So I think we've got something real solid, here."

"I think so, too," Steve says. He finally glances up to see Danny watching him, eyes so blue in his too-pale face.

"And Gracie was my other big concern, of course. But obviously we've got her approval, and Cynthia's too. Hell, it's a cross-generational cohabitation conspiracy," Danny adds with a wry grin, and Steve laughs.

"I don't know how the legal and financial side of things would pan out, though," he points out. "I pay half the bills, but the house is in Mom's name. And maybe the rent here would get hiked way up if you moved out, seeing as you got that cheaper rate because your landlord owed Stan a favor."

Danny shakes his head. "Oh, I bet Rachel could talk him into continuing the discount. You know how well she and Cynthia get on."

It's true; they'd initially bonded over their shared love of choral music, and have become good friends since then. Mom even babysits Grace, occasionally, when Rachel and Stan need someone at short notice and Danny and Steve are both busy.

"So...it'd be worth at least looking into the practicalities of this, once you're better?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," Danny says, the word half-swallowed by a yawn. "Don't think I should make any major life choices when I'm feeling this wrung out."

Steve nods. "You want to just go to sleep now? I can hang out with Grace until it's her bedtime."

"Nah, I can manage to stay awake for another couple of hours," Danny says. "And anyway, that talent show starts soon and I don't want to miss watching it with Gracie."

"It is her favorite," Steve deadpans, because she isn't the only one who gets hilariously over-invested in both the singing and the judging. Steve himself enjoys watching Danny and Grace's reactions way more than the actual show. "So when she asks about our decision, which you know she will as soon as we walk through that door, what are you going to tell her?"

"I think I'll say 'it's a distinct possibility', followed by a brief talk combining 'points for innovative thinking' with 'adult lives are a lot more complicated than you realize'."

"Sounds good," Steve says. He really does admire how Danny handles Grace, whose intelligence, curiosity, and frankness sometimes outstrip her emotional maturity.

If Cath's pregnancy is successful, she and Laura will be doing almost all of the parenting. Steve has no intention of overstepping his bounds...still, he hopes he can be as good a father figure to their child as Danny is to his daughter.

"First things first, though," Danny adds, reaching out to cup the back of Steve's neck. Steve leans in towards him, and they kiss slowly and softly for a while – their first real intimacy of this long, exhausting day.

The two of them have tried just about everything in bed; and despite the frustrating limitations imposed by his injuries, Steve is more sexually satisfied now than he's ever been. But he still loves this kind of kissing, done purely as a show of affection instead of as a starting point for sex.

Danny eventually pulls back, lowering his hand to gently squeeze Steve's good knee. Steve runs his thumb across Danny's bottom lip before laying his own hand over Danny's.

He gives Danny a tired but genuine smile and says, "Let's go face the music."

End.