Disclaimer: Too awesome to own, just awesome enough to play with.

Conductors of Light

Steve honestly did not think there were people like this.

It's been a hell of a day, and really by day he means the last two. Between the passports and Noshimori and Joe and Shelburne he's almost impressed that he remembers what sleep feels like. And Danny, Danny's been planted by the side of his ex-wife's bed talking her through the birth of a boy who was almost his.

Jesus.

The thing is, Steve has some father issues and some abandonment issues, and he knows this, he does, no matter what his crotchety partner may say to the contrary. His head is twisted in knots from trying to see through Joe's explanations and he can't decide if he wants to deck Joe or beg the closest thing he has to a father to stay. Training and pride say he can't do either, though. So he goes to Danny.

Danny is impossible. Impossibly loud, impossibly haole, impossibly hot-tempered, impossibly determined. Impossibly good with his daughter and it feels like he's been punched in the best possible way whenever Steve sees them together. Impossibly dedicated: building Kono back up after the mess with Fryer; defending Chin from HPD whispers before he got his badge back; dragging Steve out of his brooding with rants about pineapples, grenades and proper back up. Making sure Steve always has that back up, even if it's just Danny.

Steve finds him gazing through the window at rows of little cots, freshly swaddled babies with color-coded hats squirming under the lights. He looks wiped but content, taking a picture of little Baby Edwards with his phone, and his snarking about the nose makes Steve grin.

"What are you doing?"

"I am sending Stanley a picture of his baby boy. I don't think a father should ever miss this."

Steve hadn't really stopped looking at Danny but now he stares at him, this impossible man. If helping your ex-wife deliver another man's child was above and beyond the call of duty, there weren't even words for this.

Steve's not good with words, so he claps Danny on the back and offers food, absurdly grateful when Danny takes him up on it. He swallows down the ache in his throat, the ache in his chest, listening to his partner's footsteps behind him.

Danny Williams is impossible, and it gives him hope. Because maybe somewhere in that impossibly big heart of his, he can spare some room for Steve.

A/N: Because Danny is awesome like this and the look on Steve's face had to be written about.