TW: suicide ideation superficially discussed

"Danno?"

"Dad…?"

Charlie? Is that Charlie? What?

Charlie!

Danny opens his eyes abruptly, taking a moment to focus. Right in front of him is his son, his baby boy, clutching his stuffed dinosaur for dear life, biting on one of its soft spikes.

"Hey, baby," he mumbles, far more asleep than awake, "you had a bad dream?"

Charlie nods, his sight getting lost behind Danny and then back to his father's face.

After everything was said and done, Danny had cajoled Steve to just stay the night, neither of them really wanting to be alone. Steve was no stranger to Danny's bed, though this was one of the few times (counted in one hand) that Steve had stayed only to sleep.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wake himself further. Charlie needs him.

Except, Charlie is already climbing into bed, making the decision since Danny was not about to pick him up and tuck him in, not fast enough anyway.

"Okay, c'mere. I'll keep you safe."

Danny makes space for Charlie to curl into him and then tucks the covers up to Charlie's neck, petting his son's head until he falls asleep again. For a moment Danny thinks he'll stay awake the rest of the night, as it usually happens when he wakes in the wee hours of the morning, but then Steve stirs lightly and tucks his forehead against Danny's back and it sends a wave of soft, warm, fuzziness across his body, just enough to tug him back into sleep.

Steve wakes to little feet pushing on his kidneys and not enough covers to shield him from the morning chill. For a moment or two he's confused and disoriented, but then he remembers whose bed he went to sleep in, and that Danny mentioned Charlie had been having nightmares. This is a first still, and for a moment he feels like an intruder, but he also knows Danny would have kicked him out of bed if he thought it was needed.

He stifles a yawn and extricates himself from Charlie's pointy heels, making some space for himself, turning around to check on Charlie and Danny. The kid turns away from him and burrows into Danny's side. Danny, without even opening his eyes, puts a hand protectively over Charlie's head, as he curls to his side, supporting his head on his folded arm.

There's a pang of nostalgia in Steve's chest, which he'd rather keep buried and unacknowledged. With a sigh he slides off the bed and pads barefooted to the hall bathroom and takes it from there. It's only 8 am, but he's sure Charlie will come bounding looking for food sooner rather than later, he's an early bird, unlike his father, so Steve plans to make breakfast and hopefully give Danny a few more minutes to rest.

It does not come to fruition, though, since Danny is the one dragging his feet into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, probably enticed by the smell of food and coffee, and sporting a massive bedhead.

"You're up early," Steve comments, unsure of where they stand and still drained from the night before.

"Mmm," Danny says, followed by gimme hands.

Steve happily passes his own mug of coffee.

"Oh yes," Danny moans in bliss, "no butter, thank you."

Steve smiles, this feels oddly familiar in a gut-churning way. He concentrates on making eggs instead. Two different kinds, one for Danny, who likes them slightly burnt, and one for him and Charlie, who both like it not-burnt, though Charlie always complains if they're too "wet" as he calls them, so he'll cook them by Charlie's standards.

"Danny," Steve starts, placing his mug down on the table, next to the remains of his breakfast. "I know this is probably the last thing you want to talk about right now, but I'm worried about you, man. And I… I… feel this is important."

Danny lowers his own mug, incensed.

"You feel this is important? What do you think I feel? Hmm?"

Steve bites his upper lip, much in the same way Danny would if the roles were—well, when the roles have been reversed.

"I want to know what I can do to help. You need me to drive you places, to talk, cook, whatever you want, I'll do it. I just… I want you to be happy, buddy."

Danny cards his fingers through his hair, tugging a little at the back. "I hear ya, I do, but does that mean you're staying? Done with the travelling? How else are you going to do all those things?"

A few days ago he would have dreaded this question, but he's ready to answer it now.

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Are you sure? Because, beyond me feeling… I don' have a better word than abandoned—sorry," Danny spares an apologetic glance Steve's way, "I don't want to get in the way of your self-discovery journey, or whatever. I'll get over it, for you."

It warms Steve's heart in a way no mountain, ocean or hole in the wall little café did during his trip. He takes Danny's hand in his, never surer than what he's about to say.

"Danny, you're my home. I'm not leaving again. And I can't express how sorry I am I left in the way I did. For the record, I still think I needed to, but I'm sorry that in doing so I hurt you. I'm not leaving again, I'm exactly where I need to be."

Danny blinks rapidly, swallowing convulsively.

After composing himself Danny rasps, "okay."

"Okay?" Steve looks for reassurance in Danny's eyes, a promise of sorts.

"Yeah," Danny nods, "I believe you. I'm still… I don't know what I am, I'm not angry, but I believe you."

"Thank you." Steve smiles nodding back. "On that note, and thinking I might drive you somewhere—

"Oh god, subtle you're not, babe," Danny protests, rolling his eyes for good measure.

"How about a nice doctor," Steve continues, undeterred, "the mental health kind."

Danny groans into his hands, but he owes it to Steve, a straight answer. He sits up and considers what to say, how to go about it, what not to say, it's not like Steve doesn't know his medical history, he's read his personnel file, his college transcripts, he probably even read his master thesis, and only he knows how many other files he's pilfered along the way. He's still ashamed to say it out loud, though.

He takes a fortifying breath and clasps his hands together, not knowing what else to do with them, "Don't worry," he croaks, betrayed by his voice. "I have an appointment on Monday, and you're welcome to drive me around. Not into the room, though."

"And is it a…?"

"Psychiatrist," Danny supplies, making a rolling motion with his hand, "it's not a bad word."

"Not an ortho, or some other errand?" Steve insists for clarification.

Danny has a pang of regret that creeps from his chest and lodges into his shoulder. "Not this time. I swear."

"Okay," Steve's shoulders drop, "good."

Danny has another pang of guilt and takes Steve's hand, wanting to explain and make Steve feel better too. "Look, it's hard for me to talk about this, you know that, but it's not your fault, I've always been a bit goofy in the head." He wiggles his fingers at the side of his head for good measure. "And it's not the first time it gets away from me, you know this. I'm sorry I scared you."

Steve squeezes Danny's hand, in lieu of saying, "yes you did, and I know, and I love you."

"You know," Steve clears his throat before continuing, "I get the feeling we're going to be apologising for a long while," he half-smiles, "in the meantime, you want some more coffee?"

Danny swallows his response as Charlie walks in, dinosaur trailing behind him being dragged by its tail.

"Uncle Steve, you stayed!" The kid's face lights up the whole room and Steve's never been surer of where he needs to be.

Steve is idly scrolling through his phone on one end of the couch as Charlie sits far at the other end, watching cartoons. There might as well be a barbed-wire fence between them.

"Hey, I'm going to take a shower," Danny announces into the room. Steve looks up, startled, side-eyeing Charlie, who on his part chirps "okay, Danno."

Steve frowns and Danny points his chin at Charlie, clearly conveying "do something", before he resolutely turns on his heel and goes to take the quickest shower of his life, but still longer than the standard Navy shower.

He has a moment of doubt as he steps into the bathroom but shakes it off; both Steve and Charlie care very little for his privacy, he's sure neither of them will hesitate to bust the door in (figuratively and literally) if they need to take refuge by his side.

"Hey, kiddo," Steve starts after failing to grasp what the cartoon is about. He hates the way he feels, and he's unsure on how to continue. "I was hoping I could talk with you?"

"Can't. Busy," Charlie mutters back, matter of fact, burrowing further down on the couch.

Steve's hurt, but not surprised.

"Oh-okay, that sounds… okay."

Charlie stares intently into the TV screen.

Steve waits until a break and tries again, sliding an inch closer to Charlie. "Buddy, I know you're really busy right now, so I'll be brief. You're upset with me, and I wanted to say I'm sorry." Charlie moves an inch away from Steve. "I should have called you, instead of just leaving you messages with your dad. And I should have been here for you after Danno was out of hospital." Charlie's bottom lip sticks out, but his eyes remain glued to the TV. "You needed your co-pilot and I left you hanging, man, I'm sorry." Charlie's lower lip wobbles minutely, looking away from the screen for a moment. "And I should have brought presents and chocolate when I came back. Lots of chocolate."

Charlie turns sharply to Steve, indignant. "You didn't even get me chocolate?!"

Steve smiles gently. "Of course, I did, kiddo, but I don't have all my stuff yet, as soon as I get my luggage back, you get your chocolate, I promise."

Charlie mulls it over in his head.

"Where's your stuff?"

"My stuff? Like my luggage?" Charlie nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. "I had to send it to me over the mail, buddy, I couldn't move fast enough with all of it."

Charlie blinks, unimpressed. "My mummy just gets another bag."

Steve chuckles. "Yeah, buddy, your mum is right, it's a lot easier to get another bag."

Charlie nods, satisfied.

"So, do you think we could be friends again?"

Charlie nods again, slower this time. Steve nods as well.

After a beat, Steve offers a hug and Charlie jumps at him, almost throwing him off the couch entirely.

"Oh, this is the best hug ever."

"You always say that, Uncle Steve."

"I know, your hugs just keep getting better." Steve sighs, enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

"Uncle Steve?" Charlie separates slightly from Steve's chest, looking up to him.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"It's okay if you didn't get me any presents."

"Is it? I thought you once told me I was not allowed into the house unless I had, and I quote, lots of cool toys?"

Charlie shakes his head, his hair scratching Steve's chin. "I change my mind, I don't need new toys, I want you to stay."

Steve's chest does the little dance he has grown to recognise as a fierce need to protect this tiny little boy. And he hugs him one more time for good measure.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I'm staying put, and you still get a few toys in a couple of days, okay?"

"Okay."

Another second goes by, and the next episode of whatever Charlie is watching starts. Charlie wriggles free of Steve's arms and turns his focus back on the TV in one smooth action, like their conversation never happened.

Steve looks behind him and sure enough, Danny's there, wet hair dripping into his damp clothes, no shoes and t-shirt askew. But a big smile on his face, the first one of the kind Steve has seen since he got here.

"You in a hurry?" Steve asks, knowing full well Danny barely dried himself before stepping into his clothes.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure what I was going to find when I came out. Everything okay?"

"I think so," Steve comments, glancing at Charlie, who's engrossed in his TV series again.

"Good, glad to see you enjoying, uh," Danny pretends to squint at the TV, "Avatar: The Last Airbender reruns."

Steve shakes his head slightly and does a double take of the TV. "Wasn't Avatar supposed to be blue?"

Charlie shushes him without even looking up.

"Sorry," Steve whispers, mimicking putting a lock at the corner of his lips.

"No, no, don't shush him, you can pause this thing." Danny taps gently into his son's shoulder. "Did you know that, Steve? He's watching the episodes he missed earlier, commercial breaks and all?" Danny taps Charlie again, and adds a few tickles behind Charlie's neck. "Did he not tell you? Huh? Did you not tell him?"

"Danno!" Charlie laugh-shrieks.

"Okay, okay, but last episode before you get a bath, okay? I saw some dead flies outside your room this morning, I'm starting to feel sorry for them."

"Not true!" Charlie protests, as he fiddles with the TV remote control to restart the episode.

"Yes, true!" Danny rebuts and adds an extra tickle. "And you," he turns to Steve, "you go shower now and let this TV-maniac finish his programme in peace, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, no objections here. Can you lend me some clothes?"

Steve stands, already walking towards Danny's bedroom.

"Where's your stuff anyway?"

"Uncle Steve lost his stuff in the mail!"

"What?" Danny says, at the same time Steve adds, "that's not what happened."

Charlie finally hits play and settles to rewatch the beginning of the episode.

Danny pulls Steve aside and waits for an explanation.

"I mailed my stuff to Oahu," Steve rubs his neck, not wanting to get too deep into this, "it's gonna take a while before it gets here."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously."

Danny rubs a damp spot on his shirt and nods, knowingly.

"Sure, feel free to take what you need. Do you want to go by your house, pick some stuff up?"

"Umm," Steve closes his eyes, deftly avoiding having to elaborate an actual answer. Danny will figure it out anyway.

"Nobody else knows you're here, do they?"

"Mmm," Steve adds, with all the eloquence he has left.

"Alright, unless you want to go shopping this afternoon, you better start calling people."

"Right now, I just want to take a shower."

"Please, be my guest," Danny does a little bow and points him to the bedroom.

The rest of the weekend is only punctuated by a few meltdowns on Charlie's part, but nothing compared to the one Steve witnessed that first day. Steve considers it a win, Danny only comments "we'll see how it goes" hoping not to jinx it, but also being painfully realistic about it.

Rachel's face as she sees Steve, as he lives and breathes, in Danny's living room, in Danny's clothes is almost worth all the hassle and the conversations he and Steve are not (fully) having. No hard feelings, but he still gets a weird delight in shocking and or surprising her.

By Monday morning it dawns on Danny Steve might be staying for the long haul, much like Danny did a few months back. It warms his heart in a way few things have for the past year. It feels nice to be noticed and loved in that way too. If only he would do the sensible thing and go pick up some clothes. Danny sees a quick trip to the mall during the week.

Steve lowers the magazine he had been fiddling with and waits for Danny to get closer.

Danny crosses the tiny waiting room in two quick steps.

"How did it go?"

"It went," Danny answers, biting his lower lip, "let's get out of here."

"Sure thing, buddy," Steve agrees, sensing Danny's discomfort.

Danny seems skittish until they get to the car and right on cue, Danny fidgets on his seat, tell-tale sign there's something he wants to say. Steve waits him out, putting the key into the ignition and turning it on. The AC comes alive, washing over them. Steve waits some more.

"Look," Danny starts, frowning, "please don't get mad."

"Always a good way to start a conversation," Steve comments, folding his arms over his chest on reflex.

Danny closes his eyes and flinches away from Steve, "I made you an appointment with my shrink this afternoon."

"What?!" Steve's mind boggles.

"I swear I have a good explanation," Danny cracks one eye open to gauge Steve's reaction.

"Danny? What the hell?"

Danny turns on the seat to face Steve, hands flying to paint a good picture of how it came to this.

"Look, she's a great person, she's funny and caring, and makes you feel like you're not insane for acting in insane ways, you would love her, but-but-but I-I made you this appointment so you guys can talk and she can recommend you a therapist she thinks would make a good fit for you." Danny takes a sharp breath of air. "You're mad, aren't you?"

"I don't know what to say… no, I don't know where to start…" Steve trails off.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll take advantage of your silence. Look, please, indulge me, go meet her, see what she has to offer, if you like her, I'll look for a new one, so we don't have to share," Danny bargains.

"No, don't do that, please don't stop seeing someone you feel you can work with on my account."

Danny smirks. "You haven't seen her yet, how do you know you're going to like her as well?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Give me some credit, alright? She's the one you were seeing before, isn't she? She's good, I remember how it was and how much better you were after it."

"Yeah, about seven years now."

"Seven years?" Steve does a little maths in his head. "I thought you started after the building collapse."

"No, after that hellish month when you got called to Germany."

"Oh, yeah," Steve agrees, shuddering, "that month sucked."

Steve had been as affected as Danny, called to do his annual training in Germany no less, where there is no naval station, thus sending Danny's inner alert straight to Defcon 1. Two weeks training had resulted in a month (and change) long deployment filled back to back with debriefings and interviews of several armed forces personnel in relation to an old op he had participated a lifetime ago. A whole month of not knowing what came next and Danny frantically trying to get him on the phone, only to get the classified spiel at every turn. A truly miserable month if there ever was one.

"It sucked indeed." Danny agrees, with a touch of sadness. "Anyway, that's when I met her, and then about a year later decided to go back in for a top up after the parking garage. And then on the regular after Wo-Fat."

Steve can't help to notice how much of Danny's traumas are tied to his own. There's a brief moment where the guilt he's being carrying around for over a decade creeps up onto him, Danny does not deserve to be the collateral damage to his drama.

"Are you mad at me?" Danny interrupts his inner thoughts and Steve swallows it all back, unable to process the notion of hurting Danny, even if not by design.

"No, of course not. But… do you really think she can help? I mean, I'm no stranger to shrinks either, though I'm probably less of a frequent flyer than you, it's just…" He just can't put it into words.

"Yeah, that's my point, you go to these assigned bozos who don't know you really well and are paid by the Navy, and all the time you're trying to outsmart them into thinking you're not broken; you don't have to do that anymore. You're out, babe, no need to pretend you're functional, and even better, what Francine is offering—

"You call your doctor by her name?"

Danny pulls a face, but marches on. "What she's offering is the possibility to find someone right for you, who you can—I don't know—connect with, without having to hide."

"You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

"Not really, but it—it came up, okay, and I thought, I—" Danny looks flustered for a second. "Look, are you doing it or not?"

The torrent of guilt and pain itches under Steve's skin.

"Yeah. I am."

Danny smiles, hiding it by putting on his seatbelt.

"Good. Great." He's curt on purpose, but doesn't mean int. "Now take me to lunch and then to the pharmacy, I need to pick up a few things."

Steve smiles broadly, basking into the warmth of this backwards normalcy. "Aye, aye, captain."

Danny watches a frowny Steve walk in front of the car and grumpily open the passenger door and slump into the seat. He stares into the glove box like it's about to explode.

Danny gives it a second, and a couple of hand gestures, that elicit zero response, before he says, "so? How did it go?"

Steve, without missing a beat, answers, "it went."

Danny frowns. "Does this mean you made me an appointment with some other quack for tomorrow? Didn't we do this already?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "No, she was good—actually, she was great!"

Danny nods, pouting, "okay, so what's with the face?"

"She won't take me as her client."

"What? Why not?"

Steve groans. "She says we won't make a good fit, and that she knows people who can do the work in less time than she can, it's not that it won't work, it's that it won't be fast enough."

"Well, that sounds… efficient? I thought you liked efficient."

Steve gives him a look.

"Yeah, okay, sorry, it sucks. I know it sucks. Therapist shopping sucks, babe, I know. Been there, done that, got the thousand-dollar bill in my inbox." A faint smile crosses Steve's face. "But that was the whole point of seeing her, man. Didn't she give you a referral? Options?"

Steve sighs. "She gave me a referral, yes. And she works with TRICARE. And she made her sound awesome."

"Okay, good. That's that." Danny nods, putting the key into the ignition.

"She also said some other things."

"Oh boy." Danny lays back into his seat, waiting for Steve to fill him in, except he clams up, looking down to his shoes. Danny can tell he's trying, but no words are coming.

"Babe, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I know, but… who else am I going to talk about this with, Danny?"

"With your new therapist?"

Steve sends him another look; this one stirs something sorrowful in Danny's chest.

"Sorry. You can tell me… if you can."

Steve starts and then pauses, chewing on his words. "It's not something she said, it's the way she said it, and I think if she can see it… if she… then…"

"See what, babe?"

"No, never mind," Steve shakes his head.

"Steve." Danny admonishes.

"Look, this is not about therapy, or me going away, or coming back, it's not even about you being depressed and having suicidal thoughts. It's about—"

Steve throws his arms, frustrated by the lack of sense he's making.

"Babe, I swear to you it's more than okay if you can't say it, maybe you can write it or maybe you just need more time, it's okay, we've got time. I'm not going away, I'm not—and I can't believe I'm saying this out loud on an idle Monday—but I'm not killing myself, not today or ever." Danny looks out the windshield, unwantedly revisiting old dark periods of his life. "I've been low, really low in my life, but I know I have people that count on me, and I also know, that no matter how bad it gets, it will be better later. That's why I went to the hospital, because I was having problems staying on target, but I did what matters, I kept myself safe, okay?" The words taste of embarrassment rolling off his tongue, but he's glad he said them. "I'm here, and I'm staying put."

Steve, who had started tapping into his phone around halfway Danny's speech, shoves it into Danny's hand as his sole response.

Danny reads the couple of lines written in there and then reads them again.

"Oh."

He looks up, Steve's eyes are round and wet but expectant.

"And how did you come to this revelation?"

Steve presses his back into the door but perseveres. "She made me realise if this had happened to any other person, I would have called, I would have called some one else to be there, I would have woken up half of Oahu to get help in time, I would have used every contact, and favour and I would have been very worried, and maybe a little bit guilty, but I wouldn't have dropped everything, mailed me my own fucking luggage and come running. I would only do that for you."

Danny nods in understanding. It's the same thing he would have done for Steve, the same thing he has done many times.

"As a general rule," Danny starts, slowly, not wanting to trip up on the thousand thoughts running through his head. "I don't make life changing decisions when I'm—for lack of a better word, out of my mind. Today I'm on a high, but I don't know where I'll be in two weeks." Steve blinks rapidly, going through heartbroken and pitiful in quick succession before his defences spring up into place. "But, but—please don't give me that look yet—my answer is yes, I love you too, and now that you're not in Five-0 anymore, things are exponentially less complicated, and you should probably know I already started my paperwork to retire," Danny checks on Steve reaction to the news, congratulating himself on Steve's surprised eyes. "So, why don't we revisit this talk in about a month? You think you can find actual words a month from now?"

Steve blinks his shock away, nodding and smiling slowly. "I think I can do you one better."

Danny raises his eyebrows, waiting.

"I'll go check out that other therapist, I'll find my words in there, and then come back to you."

Danny chuckles. Impressed. And quite frankly stunned.

"I can't believe it only took me ten years to put you into therapy."

Steve chuckles, relaxing as the tone of the conversation lightens. "Only you could do it, babe, only you."

Danny senses the shift, and puts on his seatbelt, ready to go home.

"Just to be clear," Danny says as he starts the car, "I know your intention is to hunker down in my house and pretend you don't exist for about a week—

"Out of concern for you," Steve adds, putting on his seatbelt.

"Concern for me, of course," Danny mocks, but continues, "however well intended your stay is, I just want you to know you need new clothes, if not a whole set, new t-shirts, you're kinda ruining mine."

"I am not ruining your clothes," Steve protest with no heat behind it whatsoever. "Your clothes are tiny, that's the real issue."

"Tiny?" Danny echoes, smiling broadly, changing gears to merge into traffic.

And this, this could be their new normal, the best parts of the old, and something new, the most exciting bits yet to come.

This is it, folks, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the ride.

A shout out to my intrepid first reader, Ilmare Ilse, who helped me clean out this last chapter.

Also of note, this story is cross-posted to AO3.