(no subject)

Entry tags:

- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

While he's coming to the realization that he's going to be trapped in the clinic for the foreseeable future, it doesn't mean that he has to be completely useless. He's hauled in all of the IPD files to do with the impending Halloween threat and has a pen and has begun to make notes on level of severity and plans in the event the visions come to fruition. It's a way to keep his mind off of Esther and Steve and everything.

The papers and the sheets start to slip as they have been all day and Danny shifts, struggling in order to yank them up without causing too much stress on the wound. He hisses, loudly, and screws up his eyes, grabbing the sheets with one fist as he rides out the pain.

"Motherfuck," he hisses, but then he's better. He feels better.

Well, as better as he's gonna get these days.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It didn't take him a long time to re-emerge once they'd told him what had happened - to Danny, to Esther, to both of them. What's dragging now is how torn he is on whether or not he even deserves to go to the clinic to see Danny. He's kicking himself for not knowing, for not being there to stop her, and now this has happened and Danny is where he is and Steve can't shake the feeling that somehow this is all his fault.

He's been hovering on the other side of the curtain for a couple minutes, trying to work up the nerve to do something, and the sound of papers falling to the floor and a hiss of pain has him reacting unconsciously before his other emotions kick in. He appears, kneeling down in front of Danny's bed to pick up the scattered pages, and then freezes where he is, realizing Danny hasn't recognized him behind closed eyes. He's showered, at least, but he hasn't bothered to shave, the scruff of his beard a clear indication that he's been away from that option lately.

He tries to organize the papers into their files, but they're all mixed up together, and his shoulders hunch slightly as he ducks his head down, too nervous to meet Danny's gaze just yet.

When Danny looks up, the papers are miraculously bound together and he's looking at a version of his husband who looks completely worse for the wear and there. "Holy shit, you're alive," he says, the shock of the moment stripping away all of the guilt and all of the worry and he's so goddamn happy. "Steve..." he gets out, eking it past the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

Steve's shoulders tense, not completely able to accept Danny's apology when he's weighed down by his own guilt over the situation. He doesn't even want to look at Danny, to see him lying there in the hospital bed, the victim of what lies and manipulation have done to get between them.

"No, don't - it's not your fault, Danny. It's mine. I should've been there. I should've been here sooner."

Danny sets the file aside to his lap, blankets keeping him as secure as he can be when he's started to wean himself off of the pills and the pain is flaring up as badly as it is, like a steady reminder of his own idiocy. "Yeah, well, you're not the one who took a would-be daughter out to the woods so she could seduce you," he grumbles, avoiding looking directly at Steve. "Ignored the good sense of your friends and let her hurt them, let her convince me to send you away."

"I don't - that doesn't change the fact that this was her fault," Steve mutters, still half-crouched, half-kneeling beside Danny's bed. "She knew she couldn't get what she wanted if I was in the picture too, and she knew that - you wanted to look out for her. It's that simple."

Danny lets out a slow breath. His emotions are all over the place and he's not sure how to get a hold of them, especially not with Steve right here. He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the beard lingering on his face; touching him to make sure he's real. "She tried to seduce me. I rejected her and then..."

And then it all fell apart.

His jaw tenses under Danny's fingertips, a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach, bile rising up in his throat at the thought that Esther had attempted that once they were alone together. It's difficult to not let his mind linger in those thoughts, and when he finally looks up, he nearly feels like he's been bowled over at the sight of Danny looking pained and helpless.

"Tell me she paid for what she did to you," he utters, voice low.

"I passed out from the blood loss," Danny admits, hating that he was so powerless in the final moments of this horror show. "Kate. Kate talked to Coraline and came out looking for me and it's good she did, else we would've been holding a funeral and not a convalescent week." He pulls his hand back, tucking it under the blankets as he gets comfortable in the bed, gesturing to the nearby pills. "I should probably take one if we're going to talk."

"Oh." Steve looks up, his head turning in the direction Danny indicates, and he rises from his crouch in a quick, fluid movement, shifting towards the bedside table in order to grab the pills. His hands are shaking almost too much for him to even open the damn bottle, but he manages, shaking a couple out into his palm and then handing them over with the cup of water that's been sitting there. "Here," he replies, taking a step back to stand in wait, not completely sure what to do with his hands once they're empty.

Danny manages to muster up a quick smile, reaching out to take a single pill. "Thanks," he mumbles, taking in a deep breath as he gets a hold of it and swallows the pill, shifting in the bed to make room for Steve in the event that he wants to stay. "Kate shot at Esther, she took off for dino territory so either she is bleeding to death or a t-rex got her. Closure enough for you?"

There's something all too unsettling about that news, Steve thinks, hovering at the side of Danny's bed. He wants more closer than that, he wants - visual confirmation that Esther is no longer a threat. He doesn't make a move to step any closer or to sit down. It feels like it would be completely selfish, and he's not sure he deserves to have that right now. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess," he answers, raking at his jaw with a couple fingers.

"You guess," Danny echoes, some of the energy going out of his voice. He lets out a soft scoff and rubs at his face, letting some of the coiled bounds of hair loose as a result. "She didn't get what she wanted and so she tried to kill me. I think I need to accept that I have the absolute worst taste in people."

"Danny, you didn't know what she was capable of. None of us did," Steve insists, shaking his head slowly. When he thinks about what Esther did, what she had planned to do - what she had ended up doing when her plan had failed - her best hope is bleeding out at this point, because if he finds her alive at any time in the future, there may not be anything that can hold him back.

Danny lets out a long sigh, shifting enough so that he can reach out and let his fingertips lightly trail against Steve's, trying to pull him closer without being truly insistent. "I thought she'd gotten to you," he says hoarsely. "Never would've lived with myself if she had."

His guilt settles like an anchor weighing deep down in the pit of his stomach. He could kill her for what she's done to Danny - what she's done to them. The touch of Danny's fingertips against his own connects to the pang deep in his chest and he exhales shakily, feeling the barriers he'd thrown up around himself beginning to weaken. "Couldn't have lived with myself if anything had happened to you, Danno - anything worse than - than this."

"I already got the cane you made for me. Looks like it's gonna get a second use, huh?" he jokes mildly, like he's trying to find some optimism in all of this. It's weak, at best. He lets out a harangued sigh and grips at Steve's wrist, fingertips traversing up that warm skin. "I'm so sorry, Steve. God, I wish I hadn't of yelled, I wish I hadn't kicked you out of the house. Steve," he murmurs, pained and guilty and still somewhat scared. "Please, Steve. Please forgive me for my giant fuck-up, please."

"No, Danny, I should have - I should have come back, I should have just ignored you when you told me to leave," he replies, shaking his head firmly. "It's my fault this happened, that she got you alone with her, that - " He bites back the finish of what he wants to say and looks down, down the length of his own arm to Danny's hand trailing up slowly, warm and proof of life.

"That what?" he coaxes, wanting to hear what Steve has to say about it. "It was my fault for going camping in the woods with her, alone. It was my idiocy to think you could've hurt her, so you know what? I think I brought this on myself," he says roughly. "Steve, I need you to forgive me. Please."

"Danny, of course I - it's not even a question of whether or not I forgive you," he promises, fiercely low as he redirects his gaze to Danny's face, looking down at him. "It's whether or not I can forgive myself."

Edited 2012-10-27 21:48 (UTC)

"Why?" he asks hoarsely. "It's my fault. I basically bullied you into doing all of this, I don't see why you should get the blame." He rubs at his eyes, exhausted beyond the telling of it. "I want to go back, I want to go back to us being good. I want us to go back to being Steve and Danny, Danny and Steve, that's all. So sue me if I want to spend some time repressing this."

Steve opens his mouth to reply and then curbs whatever instinctual remark he had planned on coming out with. "Fine," he says, biting back his original response. "So long as you know that the next time you want to kick me out of the house, I'm not gonna go so easy." It's an attempt at a joke, but it comes off half-gruffly, and he turns his hand up to let his own fingers the bones of Danny's wrist, brushing gently.

"The next time I kick you out of the house, I expect to be picked up and locked in the second room all over again," Danny swears, relief beginning to flood him and he's so damn happy to see Steve in front of him. He slides his hand down and grips Steve's hand tightly. "Come here."

"I'll hold you to it," Steve says, some of the tension easing a little from his shoulders as he slowly seats himself on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Danny or crowd him too tightly. "The pills helping?"

Now that Steve's sitting, Danny shifts enough to cup Steve's cheek with one hand, leaning in to press a slow, apologetic, half-desperate kiss to his lips. He eases back no more than five seconds later, but is still holding onto his hand. "I wanted it to not hurt long enough that I could do that."

He exhales deep in the aftermath, a small shudder attaching on at the very end, and glances down at their hands, running his thumb over the ridges of Danny's knuckles. "Okay," he says, looking up again. "Then you just lie back, and let me - " He's the one who moves forward to separate the distance, his mouth closing over Danny's before he even finishes the rest of the sentence.

Fumbling, he wraps both arms around Steve's neck and kisses back with a muffled sound, a hiss of pain escaping when he can't exactly move his position, getting caught in a pained moment. "Sorry," he murmurs against Steve's lips. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. Just lay back," Steve whispers, coaxing Danny back against the pillows. "Guess I should've known you wouldn't be able to stay completely still." His lips twitch in a subtle smile as he shifts his weight.

"With you doing what you are on top of me?" Danny mumbles in reply, shooting Steve an accusatory look as he gets more comfortable on the pillows. "I don't think saints could lie so still." He doesn't dare let go of Steve, fearful he might take off again if he does.

"I wasn't - I wasn't on top of you, Danny, I was trying to do all the work, movement-wise, so you wouldn't have to strain yourself and tear your stitches - I was being considerate," Steve protests, slipping into the ease of this because this, this is what they can revert back to without any trouble at all.

It's so good to do this. It's so nice to feel like this. Free and easy and everything slotting back to place the way it ought to be. "Do you want to see them?" Danny asks, easing back from Steve in order to ask the question as seriously as it ought to be asked.

"What?" Steve looks up at Danny's face, all visible expression of playful defense slipping away in the wake of that question. "Uh, yeah," he agrees, after another beat or two. "Maybe - that'd be a good idea."

Danny's been wearing button downs. It's his usual style, but he also enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to strain to shift into the shirt. He refrains from grimacing too badly, reaching out for Steve's hand so that he can place it above the stitches. "Not too many. Six, I think they said."

"Oh. Good," Steve replies, half-absent, mostly looking down at his hand resting on Danny's skin and the length of the wound - the length of the blade that must've plunged in. He swallows visibly. "So it, uh - it didn't go too deep, then?"

"Deep enough to bleed, but it didn't hit anything major," he says, keeping Steve's hand on the skin so he can take solace in the warmth. "She missed the serious stuff." And he's so damn grateful. "Honestly, if I had died out there, I never would've forgiven myself."

"You wouldn't have forgiven yourself," Steve echoes, before chuckling dry and hollow, shaking his head slowly.

"You don't even understand what I would've done if something - something worse had - "

"Let's do a thing," Danny suggests, given that he can practically see the thoughts on Steve's face and they're heading in a direction he'd like to avoid. "Let's pretend, huh, that none of this happened. How about we live in denial for a little while, okay? I think that sounds perfect."

He opens his mouth to immediately counter Danny's suggestion with one of his own - but one look at Danny's face, tired and worn, shuts him up. They don't need to deal with all of this right now.

"Okay," Steve murmurs, nodding agreement, and then leans in to press his lips against Danny's forehead.

"I hate when you do that," Danny murmurs tiredly, swatting at Steve (ineffectively) as he settles back into the bed and blearily peers at Steve. "Raylan's running an investigation to look into places I fucked up and whether I could've stopped it."

Steve nods - half in agreement, half slightly defeated at this point. There's no sense in belaboring the point, and if Danny wants to forget about all of this for a little while, he's going to do what Danny wants.

"And what if there's nothing you could have done?" he asks, posing the question quietly.

"Then, at least I know I tried to find out," Danny admits with a slow exhalation, giving Steve a weary look as he shifts in the clinic bed. It's definitely nowhere near as comfortable as home, a point he's going to bring up as soon as he wakes up. "Hey," he murmurs. "You sticking around?"

Steve looks down at him, a tiny smile, and reaches down to fumble for his hand, the ridges of his knuckles nudging underneath Danny's fingertips.

"What do you think?"

"I think that is the sign of a man who isn't going anywhere," Danny says and he can't help the relief in his expression or his tone. It's something he doesn't know he deserves, but is glad to have, all the same.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only