Ko‘eko‘e ka Pō Hoa‘ole (Cold are Nights Without a Companion)

[zolac_no_miko]

Title: Ko‘eko‘e ka Pō Hoa‘ole (Cold are Nights Without a Companion)
Characters/Pairings: Steve McGarrett, Danny "Danno" Williams; Steve/Danny
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 26,970
Summary: After a bit of snooping, Danny discovers that Steve wants to celebrate his birthday by climbing Mauna Loa, the world's largest active volcano, because of course he does. Danny agrees to go along for reasons that are mostly inexplicable and surely have nothing to do with Steve's warm, dark eyes or the curve of his smile—but hey, they're only going to be climbing one of the world's most active volcanoes which could erupt at literally any time, where they will be above 40% of the Earth's atmosphere and the lack of oxygen can actually be deadly, and where severe weather can blow up without warning. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: A fair amount of adult language, and like, mortal peril, but that's it.
Disclaimer: Characters in this story are © CBS Broadcasting Inc. All content is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

Notes: Gosh, wow, this one has been a journey. I first came up with this story back in 2012, and then I got busy and drifted away from H50 and I never thought this one would live anywhere but inside my head. But Steve and Danny and their stupid feelings... I just couldn't stay away forever I guess. And then there's my feelings about my islands, and this mountain....

This story was written as part of H50 Big Bang 2018. My first ever Big Bang! You should totally check out all the other awesome stories and art (posting of works is staggered, twice a day from April 11-April 17 2018).

Biggest of mahalos to the fabulous lllookalive for her time and talent. Her two works are embedded into the story itself like adorable Easter eggs full of feelings, so you have that to look forward to, lucky readers. I'm tickled pink and you will be too; the faces, look at the faaaaaaaaaces!! TT_TT

Another big mahalo to sapphirescribe for her thorough and thoughtful beta services. The story (and my confidence) are greatly improved through her efforts. Any places where I have gleefully ignored her excellent advice are my fault, not hers.

This story also available on AO3 and LJ.

~ ~ ~

“...You know, McGarrett, if you would learn to rein in your thirst for the wanton destruction of private property, you wouldn't have to do so much paperwork, and you could, like me, be on your way home even as we speak.”

Steve looked up from the papers that littered his desk and glared. “Yes, thank you Danny, you're very helpful.”

Danny lounged in the doorway of Steve's office, smirking. “Steve, I can hear your sarcasm, and I want you to know I am very hurt by that. And here I've gone and brought you, out of the goodness of my heart, this ice-cold refreshing beverage.” Danny waggled the bottle of Hapa Brown, recently liberated from the shelf in the Five-0 office fridge that was specifically reserved for emergency beer.

Steve groaned in a manner that could only be described as pornographic. Danny tried desperately not to notice. “Have I mentioned to you that you're my favorite? You're my favorite, Danny.”

Danny swallowed, sauntering with practiced casualness over to the desk to hand Steve his beer. “Yeah, well, I am pretty damn awesome,” he agreed.

Steve took a long swig from the bottle and groaned again, and for the love of God would he stop doing that, Jesus Christ how was this man actually real? “Seriously, Danno, thank you.”

“No problem,” Danny replied faintly. He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. “So, uh... I glanced at the calendar earlier and I couldn't help but notice that your birthday's coming up in a couple of weeks, and I thought we should, you know, do something. Anything you want. You, uh... got any idea how you'd like to celebrate?”

Something... strange happened to Steve's face then, a weird combination of expressions that flickered over his face and was gone, replaced by a careful blankness. “I... haven't really thought about it,” he said.

Danny stared at him, stunned.

He was lying.

Danny was, after all, a detective, a good one, it was his job to know how to read people. And with the possible exception of his daughter, his ex-wife, and his siblings, there was no one in the world Danny could read better than Steve McGarrett. So Danny knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Steve had, just this very moment, lied to him.

Danny hoped he was better at hiding facial expressions than Steve was. “Oh, well uh, why don't you just... mull it over for a bit, and let me know?” He jerked his thumb at the door, backing away. “I'm just... I'm going to go. Home.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, uh... hey, see you tomorrow.”

“Right, tomorrow. Yes. ...I'll pick you up.” Danny raised a hand, a weak substitute for a wave. He fled.

~ ~ ~

Danny headed for home, blindly weaving through Honolulu's Friday pau hana traffic. He tried to puzzle out a plausible reason for Steve's weird behavior. He tried not to feel hurt by it. Honestly, if nothing else he and Steve were friends, right? ...Right? Danny kind of thought of Steve as his best friend. And yet—in that brief flash of expression Danny had seen... panic, and guilt. Steve clearly had made plans for his birthday, plans that he had not wanted to share with Danny, that he had lied about to Danny's face.

Maybe Danny was thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe Steve wanted to... surprise Danny? Only that wasn't really how it worked, was it, people having birthdays didn't plan surprises for their friends, no, it was pretty much always the other way around.

And that wasn't what Danny had seen. That wasn't an 'oh no, the surprise is ruined!' kind of face. That was definitely more of an 'oh shit, how do I tell Danny that I didn't include him in my birthday plans?' kind of face.

Well... fuck.

Danny's face and neck felt hot. He also felt like maybe he had swallowed a chunk of lead. He was... upset. Like, maybe he shouldn't really be driving kind of upset. Maybe it was stupid for him to be this upset, but... ouch. Kinda ouch. Honestly, you think you know a guy....

Danny took a deep breath, in, out, tried to calm down. He did know Steve. And Steve was kind of a jerk, but he wasn't that much of a jerk. They were friends, Danny wasn't just making that up. And neither of them were really into talking about feelings, hey let's be besties forever, pinky-swear, but... Danny was reasonably sure that there was no one on the entire island that Steve felt closer to.

...Maybe Steve wanted to be alone on his birthday, for some reason? Or maybe Steve was seeing someone (ouch) and just hadn't told Danny about it (ouch), and he wanted to spend his birthday with... that person? (Oh let's just be honest, Danny, her.) Or maybe he was going off-island to see his sister or Cath or hang out with his SEAL buddies, but if that was the case why wouldn't he just say something?

Danny made it home without incident, cooked dinner, went to bed, lay awake thinking. He couldn't stop wondering just what it was Steve had planned that was such a big secret.

He huffed a sigh, rolled over, closed his eyes. Whatever it was, it was Steve's business, not Danny's. Steve was a big boy; he would talk to Danny about it, or not, on his own time. Danny could respect his privacy.

~ ~ ~

...Yeah, privacy was overrated.

The sun was just barely up when Danny pulled up in front of Steve's house in the Camaro. This weekend was a Grace weekend, so Danny was here to pick Steve up, and then they were going to pick Grace up and meet Kono at the beach for Gracie's surfing lessons, and then, in an attempt to counteract the process of tropification in his daughter, he and Steve were going to take her skating at the Ice Palace. See, Steve actually really enjoyed hanging out with Grace, which as far as Danny was concerned was the biggest point in Steve's favor. (In favor of what Danny tried really hard not to think about, because the biggest point against was that Danny had never seen him show any interest in a guy whatsoever, and don't think Danny hadn't been watching.) Grace, for her part, adored Steve (which was the second biggest point in his favor), so more and more, recently, when Danny had Grace for the weekend, he had Steve, too.

...Only he didn't really have Steve, he—aw, fuck it.

On this particular Saturday morning Danny had deliberately shown up early—way early. He knew Steve would be out on his quotidian hour-long swim—plenty of time for Danny to snoop. Juggling two cups of coffee and a box of warm baked goods, Danny let himself in through the front door, disarmed the security system he'd forced Steve to install, and toed off his shoes. “...Steve?” No answer. The house was silent. Danny dropped his armful off at the kitchen counter and went over to the lanai, looking out over Steve's backyard to the beach; Steve's towel was draped over the back of one of his Adirondack chairs, waiting for him. Perfect.

A brief search turned up Steve's MacBook lying on the coffee table, and Danny sat down on the couch, turning it on. Steve's computer was probably the best place to look; Steve never did anything on paper if he could help it—it wasn't environmentally friendly. (Danny didn't think napalm was particularly environmentally friendly either, but try telling Steve that.)

The laptop finished booting, offering Danny the log-in screen. (Steve's icon was a picture of a SIG-Sauer P226 Navy, Steve's preferred weapon. Of course.) A few months back Danny had asked to borrow Steve's internet and Steve had shouted out the password, a long, anal-retentive and paranoid string of meaningless letters and digits which, as with every detail concerning Steve McGarrett, Danny had promptly memorized. He typed it in now, pressed enter; success! So Steve wasn't that paranoid.

The desktop loaded and Danny froze. The last time he'd used this computer it had been set to the Mac default, a field of stars with swooshy colored light sort of smeared across it, completely impersonal. Now it was a photograph of Steve and Grace and Danny and Christmas lights. Danny remembered this; they'd taken Grace to see the holiday displays down on King Street. Danny got glow-necklaces for everyone from a street vendor (Gracie wore hers like a crown), and Steve had bought them a ride in one of those horse-drawn carriages. Steve had offered to play photographer for a group of Japanese tourists in front of the giant Christmas tree by Honolulu Hale, and one of them had returned the favor.

Gracie had had the time of her life, of course, and it had meant a lot to Danny, to be able to share some of that holiday magic with his two favorite people, his daughter and his... well, Steve. He hadn't realized it had meant something to Steve, too.

Danny swallowed. Just... wow. At least now he had proof that, whatever Steve's problem was, it wasn't that he secretly hated Danny.

Danny shook himself. Right. He didn't have time for squishy feelings; Steve could come back any minute now. Danny had work to do.

He rested his fingertips lightly on the keyboard, thinking for a moment, then opened Stickies; Steve was a perpetual note-taker. A veritable blizzard of sticky-notes popped up against the desktop, organized and color-coded according to some system Danny didn't understand. His eyes darted across the screen, scanning the stickies... aha! A list of dates, times, and flight numbers, info for a roundtrip flight bracketing the date of Steve's birthday, HNL to ITO—Hilo International Airport. ...Steve was going to the Big Island?

Danny tapped a thoughtful finger against his lower lip, then opened Firefox. There was no previous session to restore; Steve had a habit of closing his tabs as soon as he was done with them, a psychological artifact of the compulsive neatness the Navy had trained into him, probably. Danny went for the browser history; he had to go back a few days, but there it was, the Hawaiian Airlines website. Danny hummed thoughtfully, scanning down the list of webpages Steve had visited. The REI online store; a bunch of pages from the Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park website. Danny started clicking, glancing over the pages as they popped up. Backcountry permit procedures, information on the Mauna Loa summit cabin... oh. Oh no. Steve wanted to climb an almost fourteen thousand foot active volcano. ...Of course he did.

Scrolling down, Danny read through a series of increasingly scary warnings, occasionally bolded and capitalized for greater effect. ‘...severe winter conditions, including blizzards, high winds, and whiteouts.’ ‘Volcanic eruptions are possible at any time.’ ‘...serious and potentially fatal consequences of hiking at high altitude… IF SYMPTOMS PERSIST AFTER DESCENT TO SEA LEVEL, SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION WITHOUT DELAY.’ Danny put his head in his hands, a feeling somewhat like dread stealing over him.

After a little while Danny straightened, craning his neck to peer out across Steve's lanai and down to the beach. Shit! He could see Steve a couple dozen yards offshore, heading for land with long, sure strokes. Danny hastily closed Firefox and Stickies and shut down Steve's computer, then crossed Steve's living room to lean nonchalantly against the kitchen counter.

A few minutes later Steve sauntered up onto the lanai, clutching his towel. He spotted Danny and beamed, his whole face lighting up in a fifty megawatt smile. “Danny! You're here early!”

Steve was still entirely wet, saltwater running in rivulets down his chest, his abs, his calves, beading in jeweled droplets on his tattooed shoulders, his pecs and biceps rippling as he toweled his hair. Steve was a Greek marble in board shorts, and oh shit he'd totally just said something to Danny, hadn't he, Danny should probably say something back. “What? Oh, yeah, woke up before the alarm, couldn't get back to sleep, figured there was no point in waiting.”

Steve stepped into the house, rubbing at his chest with the towel, something Danny was definitely not paying attention to. He breathed in deep and his eyes lasered in on the coffee cups. “You brought coffee!”

“Yes, yes I did,” Danny confirmed. “And! Manapua for breakfast.”

Steve's eyes lit up even more. “Chicken curry?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yep.”

“Sweet potato?”

Danny grabbed the box, holding the lid open for Steve. “They're not purple 'cause they're grape, sweetheart.” He rolled his eyes. “Did I buy you sweet potato manapua, honestly, it's like you don't even know me at all.”

Steve snagged one of the purple buns and took a huge bite, then tried to talk around a mouthful of purple sweet potato. “'Or huh 'ess, 'Anny.”

“Yes. I am the best, and don't you ever forget it.” Danny selected one of the standard char siu pork buns for himself; you couldn't argue with the classics.

Steve chewed and swallowed, doing his very best impression of a civilized human being. He slung his towel over his shoulders, pointing at the stairs. “I'm pretty much ready to go, I'm just going to take a quick shower, okay?”

“Yes, good idea babe, you go do that. I'll just... you know... morning news or something.” Danny gestured vaguely toward the television.

Nodding curtly, Steve took another bite of his manapua and headed briskly up the stairs. Danny fought temptation for a second, then gave up and leaned over to catch a glimpse of Steve's ass. Yep. No change from the day before. Still fantastic.

Danny put his head in his hands and groaned.

~ ~ ~

It was a perfect morning for Gracie's surfing lessons. The waves were smallish, which meant that Danny felt a little better about his daughter being out in the surf zone, and also that there were fewer boneheads out on the water who might run her over; the water was crystal clear, and Danny didn't see any sign of sharks.

Steve and Danny had a perfect view of Grace from their usual bench, but Danny was too distracted to properly enjoy watching his little genius be magnificent. Eventually he just gave up; What the hell, he decided, and cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “Mauna Loa.”

Steve gaped at him. “...What?”

“For your birthday,” Danny clarified. “You want to climb Mauna Loa.”

“How the hell do you know about that?” Steve was utterly gobsmacked.

“I searched your browser history. Now what I want to know, Steven, is why you felt this needed to be some big secret.”

“You searched my browser history?!” Steve looked like he didn't know whether to feel surprised, pissed off, or confused. “Danny, my computer is password protected.”

“I borrowed your computer and you gave me the password, remember? A few months back.”

Steve stared at Danny, incredulous. “What did you do, write it down?!”

“I remembered it.”

“...Danny, my password is completely random. It's fifteen symbols long.”

Danny waved his hand vaguely. “I have a facility. Look, can we get back on topic here? I asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday, you said you didn't know. That, clearly, is not the case.”

“I ought to punch you in the face,” Steve said, but he didn't look angry; he looked guilty again. “...It's just something I was thinking about. I hadn't decided on it.”

“Steve, you have a sticky-note full of flight times.”

“I haven't bought any flights yet!”

“Are you telling me you don't want to climb Mauna Loa?”

Steve huffed a frustrated sigh. “Well, yeah, of course I want to climb it, it's something I've been meaning to do for years. But I don't have to do it now, necessarily.”

“Look, you're being completely ridiculous, if you didn't want me to come with, you could've just said something, it's fine, I completely understand if you want to be alone to commune with the volcano, okay, you should go for it.”

Steve looked confused now. “I don't need to be alone to 'commune with the volcano,' Danny, I... didn't think you'd be interested.”

“Well I admit to you that climbing an active volcano up beyond the limits of what most people consider breathable atmosphere would not be my first choice of activity, but it's not my birthday is it, it's yours, and if that's what you want to do, if you wanted me to come with you than yes, definitely, I would want to be there!”

“Of course I want you to come with me! I... you really want to go?” Steve looked really confused now, but also kind of hopeful.

Danny blinked, the recent turn in the conversation finally catching up with his brain. Oh, he thought, somewhat stunned. He shook himself. “Steve, it's your birthday, you're my friend, yes, I really want to go!”

“But—”

“No, there is no 'but,’ Steve, there is nothing complicated about this, yes, I would like to climb Mauna Loa with you.”

“...Really?” Danny was about to start yelling, but it seemed like the question was rhetorical because Steve smiled then, a huge, brilliant, happy smile that took over his whole face. Danny's heart thudded uncomfortably.

“So... what, is that all settled then, we're going to do this, you, me, climbing a mountain?”

Steve grinned wider. “Yes! Yeah, absolutely!”

“Okay. Good.” Danny narrowed his eyes at Steve, squinting at him suspiciously for a few moments, thinking things over. “...So, let me get this straight, am I understanding things correctly here... you were going to abandon your birthday plans, this thing that you really wanted, you were going to try to think of something else to do that would make me happy, is that what was going on here?”

“...Um.” Steve looked embarrassed.

Something warm and sharp and sweetly painful expanded in Danny's chest. He stared at Steve, for once in his life at a loss for words; after a few confused moments, he found them again. “...McGarrett, you are a fucking idiot.”

Steve just beamed at him happily.

~ ~ ~

So that was that. Steve excitedly helped Danny shop for all of the gear he would need (and it was a lot of gear, okay, a lot), and the realization slowly sank in that Danny had actually agreed to do this, they were going to do this completely horrible-sounding thing, and Danny must be going mad, he couldn't even bring himself to regret it, because Steve didn't stop smiling for two straight weeks.

Eventually the day came, and Danny embraced his newfound madness and boarded a plane with Steve McGarrett, bound for Hawai‘i Island and the largest active volcano on the planet. When they landed in the town of Hilo it was a sunny, beautiful morning and they could see clear to both summits, strangely lumpy Mauna Kea with its gleaming observatories dominating the northwestern horizon, and distant, deceptively smooth Mauna Loa further to the south. Danny squinted at it; it didn't look very big.

Steve and Danny picked up their rental car, acquired food and tanks of propane, and headed up Highway 11 towards Volcano Village and Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park. Steve was driving; Danny was squinting at a map of the Big Island. “...Babe, tell me again why we're spending all day at Kīlauea instead of heading straight for the summit?”

Steve glanced over at him, flashing him a bland, indulgent smile before turning his attention back to the road. “Well, first of all, we have to pick up a backcountry permit at park headquarters. And we're not starting from inside the park tomorrow; we're taking the Observatory Trail, which is like a two-hour drive from Volcano. The park offices don't even open until eight, and we’re going to want to be at the trailhead by eight-thirty at the latest, so we need to get the permit today.” Danny looked at the map again, and, yeah, now he was starting to get an idea of just how big this mountain was; to get from one side of it to the other you had to drive around half the island. “Besides,” Steve continued, “this way we can spend the day exploring Kīlauea!”

Danny shook his head. “What is it with you and active volcanoes, huh? Is this, like, some kind of thing, are we going to have to fly to Maui to check out Haleakalā?”

Steve grinned at him. “Speaking of backpacking trips I'd like to do....”

Danny groaned.

The long, uphill climb flattened out and the forest closed in, dark and damp and primordial, and they turned off the highway and entered the national park. The paperwork at the backcountry permit office was a brief affair, signatures and contact numbers and checking lots of little boxes, and then Steve was dragging Danny around the park with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old at Disneyland. Danny filled his camera with photographs of sulfur crystals and boiling-hot steam vents and sheer cliffs and sharp lava rock and deep pit craters where the earth had abruptly and spontaneously collapsed and sign posts for friendly-sounding places like 'Devastation Trail;’ he sat on a trailside bench at the edge of Kīlauea Iki Crater and watched steam crawl across the blackened crust of what had once been a lava lake and tried to imagine a fountain of lava taller than the Empire State Building.

“...I am never ever ever bringing Grace here,” Danny decided. “Ever.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

They had an early start the next morning, but Steve insisted that they stick around Kīlauea until after dark, so they ducked into Volcano Village for dinner. They lingered over tom kha and pad thai and cold bottles of Singha while Steve exuberantly described some of the more exciting (terrifying) eruptions of Kīlauea's history, and outside the window the green and misty rainforest disappeared into the inky black of night.

As they re-entered the park and cruised down Crater Rim Drive, the night was blackest black, the stars were cold and sharp, and wafts of steam drifted across the road like ghosts. Halema‘uma‘u Crater's plume of steam and noxious gases, which in daylight had seemed innocuously cloud-like, now took on a surly red glow where it rose above the trees. The forest thinned and dried and opened up, and Mauna Loa was a hulking black behemoth dominating the western horizon.

Steve pulled in at the Jaggar Museum and Hawaiian Volcano Observatory parking lot and, hunched against the biting wind, they joined the crowd at the edge of Kīlauea Caldera. Halema‘uma‘u Crater was lit up in hellish red, and the massive plume boiled out of the vent in the crater floor, a pit within a pit within a pit. The column of vapor and sulfur dioxide arched into the sky, red and roiling, and at its base, a tiny, distant fountain threw glittering gold globs of molten lava into the air. Just audible over the excited murmurs of the crowd, muted booms and crashes gave voice to the barely-contained violence of the lava lake. Danny was stunned into speechlessness. It was unutterably beautiful.

It was unspeakably terrifying.

“Pele”, murmured Steve, “goddess of volcanoes, visited each island in turn, digging fire pits as she went, until she settled on the island of Hawai‘i. All volcanoes belong to her, but this crater, Halema‘uma‘u, is her home, and people still come to worship her here.”

Danny stared, hypnotized, into the rolling, twisting curls of the plume. “Should we have brought a sacrifice?” he asked, and he was only half joking. Danny didn't put much stock in the existence of spirits and magic and gods, but here, now, his eyes reflecting the glow of the molten blood of the planet, he could almost believe he could feel the presence of something more than human, grumbling dread pronouncements in a tongue he couldn't understand.

Steve was quiet for a moment. “...I thought about bringing an offering,” he admitted. “I'm hoping our abject admiration will be offering enough.”

“Well she can have as much of that as she fucking wants,” breathed Danny.

Steve hummed in agreement.

“...I'm still never ever bringing Grace here,” Danny said, and did a poor job of dodging Steve's sharp elbow in his ribs.

~ ~ ~

When Danny's alarm woke him dark and early in the morning, he was unsurprised to see Steve already awake and dressed and propped against the counter in their hotel room's little kitchenette. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hovered in the air. “I fucking love you,” he groaned, a little too honestly, blurry and sleep befuddled.

Steve looked up from scrutinizing his phone and beamed, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “'Morning, sunshine. Ready to climb a mountain?”

“Ugh,” Danny grumbled, but flailed his way free of his sheets and stood up. Steve's bed was already made up neatly, looking as if he'd never slept in it. “The hell, McGarrett, they have maids to do that for you, you know.”

“Habit. I don't like to see an unmade bed.” He eyed Danny's bed as if seriously considering fixing it, then returned his attention to his phone.

Danny stumbled over to the kitchenette and helped himself to a tall mug of Kona blend, burning himself a little on the first sip and too happy to care. He glanced over at Steve. “Watcha doing?”

“Checking the weather forecast for the next few days.”

“Does it look okay?”

Steve's forehead wrinkled a little. “There's a chance of wind and rain a couple of days from now.” He stared at his phone a couple of seconds longer, then shrugged and pocketed the phone. “We'll keep an eye on the sky, should be fine. We can hustle out of there a little early if we need to.”

Steve boiled some water for instant oatmeal, and they packed their gear into the rental and took off for Saddle Road.

The rental climbed steadily, up and up... and up and up and up. Dense forest opened up into lava plains and a thin veneer of scrub, and the great shields of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa loomed over them to either side. When Saddle Road wouldn't take them any higher, Steve turned onto a narrow, winding strip of pavement that snaked its way across the fields of lava. Mauna Loa filled their entire field of view, mercurial threads of silvery lava webbed over older flows in black and gray and red-brown.

Steve pointed at a few glittery specks in the distance, high up on the slope. “That's where the trailhead is,” he said, “eleven thousand feet, Mauna Loa Observatory.”

Danny squinted. “Christ, that's far. We gonna start hiking before sundown?”

Steve grinned. “They don't call it the Big Island for nothing,” he said.

Danny was starting to get that. As they climbed higher and higher, the scale of the expansive vista below them became apparent. Mauna Kea stretched broad against the sky opposite Mauna Loa, the vast lava plains of the saddle spreading between them and slanting downward to the east and west, the blue of the ocean blurred by clouds and the haze of distance.

Eventually they reached the domes and towers and utilitarian buildings of the Mauna Loa Observatory, and Danny climbed stiffly out of the car. The air was dry and cold and thin, thinner than any air Danny had ever breathed before, but cleaner and sweeter, too.

Steve and Danny slathered on sunscreen and donned hats and sunglasses, and then... there was nothing to do but climb. Steve hoisted his pack onto his shoulders, grinning his far-too-charming maniac grin. “You ready?” he asked, slightly breathless—unlike Danny, more likely due to excitement than lack of oxygen.

Danny lifted his own pack, groaning slightly with the effort and already really not looking forward to hauling it a couple of thousand feet up an overgrown hill. “Lead on, Edmund Hillary.”

The climb was quietly punishing, a slow and endless uphill grind, the thin air making a slow walk feel like running a marathon. The landscape had a strange, brutal, starkly alien beauty to it, an endless field of bare lava in black and red-browns, the blazing, hostile sun suspended in the featureless, incomprehensible blue of the sky, and aside from Steve and Danny nothing alive in between. Mauna Kea was rooted solidly on the horizon, wisps of cloud slipping past its bulk, and lesser peaks rose from the haze below to the west and north.

Steve called a brief halt and Danny squinted at the great peak to the north, catching his breath between sips of water. “So what I'm wondering,” Danny said, “is this: why aren't we climbing Mauna Kea? As I understand it it's several hundred feet taller than Mauna Loa, and unlike Mauna Loa, it probably won't erupt.”

Steve made a face like he was trying not to laugh at Danny and doing a very poor job of hiding it. “We could climb Mauna Kea,” he agreed, “and I'd like to, someday. But there's a road clear to the top; any jerk with a four-by-four can get up there with a quick drive. Takes away half the fun. And there's no camping; the park rangers kick you out after sunset so you don't disturb the astronomy.”

“Even better,” Danny said. “We could go back down to sea level and have a beer in a nice restaurant, like normal people.”

“Aww, come on, Danny,” Steve said, pretending to pout. “We haven't even gotten to the good part yet!”



They continued their hike, and shortly came upon two massive, towering stone cairns; as they'd climbed, smaller ahu had marked out their trail over the bare lava, but these two were larger, piled high overhead. At their feet was a large pit, which in two directions extended beneath the surface to form caves. A rudimentary rock wall had been built partially across the mouth of one of the caves; in the gloom behind the wall Danny could just see a small stash: a sleeping bag and a few tarps.

“Collapsed lava tube,” explained Steve, “converted into an emergency shelter, in case of blizzards.”

“You don't know how comforted I am by the reminder that we could, at any time, be enveloped by a deadly snow storm,” Danny said. He looked up at Steve and jerked his thumb at the cave-shelter. “...So, is this the good part?” Steve laughed.

Steve and Danny continued to climb steadily upward, their trail over featureless lava giving way to a short section of rough four-by-four track which led them to the Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park boundary sign and a trail winding through smooth hillocks of cinder. The cinder was a strange, dull gold color, with occasional dark patches of cinder that, on closer inspection, turned out to be cobalt blue. The throat of the fissure along the edge of the cinder field was painted terra cotta, brick red, and maroon. Danny gaped a little bit; he had no idea rocks could come in so many colors. He could just feel Steve radiating smugness at him, but he could feel Steve radiating happiness as well, so he chose to ignore it.

After a lunch break next to a flame-colored fissure, they left the cinder field behind for smooth black pāhoehoe that glimmered with iridescent rainbows in places, as if smeared with a sheen of oil. Still they climbed upward; the thin air was really starting to get to Danny now, and he zoned out a little, concentrating on breathing rhythmically and putting one foot in front of the other, slow and steady. A bark of laughter from Steve pulled him abruptly from his trance, and he looked up, panting.

Displayed proudly against the dramatic backdrop of a towering lava rampart, gleaming in the sunlight was... a toilet.

Not an outhouse, mind. Just a toilet. A white throne exposed to the elements and a panoramic view of lava fields and distant cinder cones.

“What the hell,” Danny said.

Steve and Danny trudged closer to take a look. A small rock wall had been built up next to the john, just enough to hide the unmentionables of someone sitting on it from view, presuming the viewer was twenty yards away. A slightly weathered roll of toilet paper was tucked into the lee of the wall. The toilet itself was built onto a small wooden platform and propped over a narrow but deep lava fissure. “Oh my God,” commented Danny.

Steve was staring at it, looking utterly bemused but also, as time passed, increasingly gleeful. “I'm going to use it,” he announced.

“What,” said Danny. Steve was carefully offloading his backpack onto the sharp lava.

“Look at it!” Steve exclaimed, pointing at the toilet, then waving his hands around vaguely to indicate their surroundings. “That is the most hilarious, most beautiful—that is the best toilet I have ever seen! How could I not use it?”

“Steven, why do you have a toilet ranking system—oh my God.” Steve had started fumbling with the buttons on his hiking pants. Danny rapidly did an about-face, swaying a little when his pack threw his balance, and started trudging back to the trail. “What the hell is wrong with you, warn a guy!”

Danny stood with his back to Steve and the World's Best Toilet, staring out at the drifting clouds below him and wearily cursing every single aspect of his life. After a couple of minutes, the crunch of gravel behind him announced Steve's approach. “Did you have an enjoyable bodily function, Steven?”

“Yes I did,” Steve said, sounding immensely satisfied. “You should try it.”

A minute later, Danny was forced to admit that there was something strangely freeing about sitting on the john in the wide open, exposed to sun and breeze. But quietly, to himself, where Steve could never hear him. Obviously.

In very short order the trail brought them to a couple of junctions and then over the edge of a broad, very shallow crater—“North Pit,” Steve said. The summit of Mauna Loa and the tall, sheer cliffs of Moku‘āweoweo Caldera were visible in the distance. The floor of North Pit was an odd patchwork of different-colored rock, a dull gold lava peeking through an incomplete layer of younger, silvery lava. The trail across the crater floor was relatively smooth and flat, and Danny quietly prayed that the good footing would last; he was starting to really be able to feel the weight of his pack, and the uneven ground and loose rubble they'd previously crossed was mentally and physically exhausting. Steve still seemed cheerful, and Danny still felt pretty okay, but the long hike under full pack at elevation was beginning to take its toll; conversation had dwindled, and they hiked in silence.

After a few minutes, the trail took them to the edge of a bogglingly broad, deep, and sheer-sided pit crater, and they took a few moments to catch their breath and take in the view. The floor of the crater was covered in lava rubble, which had somehow become piled in a sort of a mohawk-shaped rock-dune in the middle. Danny didn't think he could venture a guess as to how deep the crater was, but he figured if he fell in he'd have a good number of seconds to regret his life choices and his acquaintance with one Steve McGarrett before an instant and completely disgusting death. He shuffled back a step, not terribly keen on testing this theory.

"This is amazing," Steve said, panting slightly. "Do you know how pit craters are formed?"

"Do I want to know?" asked Danny.

"It’s a place where a small magma reservoir comes very close to the surface," Steve said, apparently deciding that yes, Danny did want to know. "It might feed an eruption, or it might simply drain away to another location. What once was solid rock in that spot, and then liquid rock, then becomes mostly nothing and the ground suddenly collapses, boom." He gestured vaguely at the giant scary hole of doom. "Pit crater!"

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Yep. This is much worse than that time you told me about how the ground beneath our feet is mostly lava tubes, i.e., the ground beneath our feet is mostly not ground and we could fall into a cave literally at any time."

Steve grinned. "C'mon, we're almost there. I'm thinking a mile, mile-and-a-half to go, maybe."

They climbed up out of North Pit, and to Danny's dismay, the footing significantly worsened. There was one small patch of gorgeous trail where the lava was as smooth as glass and shiny as wet tile, but after that they entered a hell of wobbly, fist-sized clunkers. The trail curved around a gentle rise and both North Pit and the cliffs of Moku‘āweoweo disappeared from view, leaving nothing to see but a vast plain of gnarled, gray-brown stone. Not that Danny could take his eyes away from his feet very often to look around.

Steve's pace started to feel impossible to match, and Danny slowly dropped behind, left alone with his thoughts. Surely they had to be almost there. Where was the cabin? How long had it been since North Pit? It felt like forever. Danny's pack felt like it was filled with lead. His legs and feet and hips ached; his lungs burned. Why the hell had he thought this trip was anything like a reasonable idea?

Danny glanced up to see that Steve had stopped to wait for him. His cheeks burned a little, but he gritted his teeth and tried to squeeze a little more speed out of his tired legs. When he got closer, Steve grinned and gestured for him to hurry. "Look!" Steve exclaimed. "The cabin!"

Danny stumbled closer and looked where Steve was pointing, and sure enough, an aluminum structure glinted in the distance. It looked so far, and yet—it was visible. It existed. It was indisputably a finite distance away. "Thank fuck," Danny said with feeling. "I gotta tell you, babe, this last bit is killing me."

"We're almost there." Steve was grinning, but even he looked tired around the eyes, which Danny found strangely gratifying. Steve gestured for Danny to lead the way. "That's gotta be, what, half a mile? Less? Let's crank this sucker out."

"Oorah," Danny said, pushing forward with renewed vigor.

"That's the Marines, asshole," Steve said, and Danny grinned.

The footing was still shitty, but Danny had discovered an untapped reservoir of energy; he forged ahead, breathing in time with his footsteps—in, in, ouuuuutt, in, in, ouuuuuutt. (It was the breathing pattern Rachel had had to learn for when she was in labor with Gracie, but hey, apparently it was good for mountain climbing, too!) The caldera reappeared to his right, then a pyramid of stacked stone and an outhouse, right on the edge of the cliff—and there, once again, the cabin, an aluminum-sided shack accompanied by a raised composting toilet and a big green water tank. Danny put his head down and pushed his tired legs just that last bit further, and then—he and Steve were stumbling off of the rocks and onto the sandy patch of ground surrounding the cabin.

"’Mauna Loa Cabin, elevation 13,250 feet… 4,039 meters’," Danny read aloud from the sign on the wall. He thrust his fists into the air in triumph. "We made it! We made it, we are here, we are not dead, oh my God, this is fantastic."

Steve grinned, panting for breath slightly, his hands on his hips. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Danny was already fumbling with the latch of his waist belt, dropping his backpack to the dirt with a heartfelt groan. "Oh my God, I hate that backpack, never again!" he proclaimed. He carefully lowered himself to the ground next to his pack, every muscle and joint in his body complaining about it. Then he decided that sitting was way too much effort, and he flopped back to lie spread-eagled. "Never again," he reiterated.

Steve carefully slipped off his pack, then stumbled over to a conveniently placed flat rock to sit with his back against the wall of the cabin. "Well, I hope you enjoy the mountain life, because I'm not carrying you down."

Danny closed his eyes. "What kind of friend are you?" Wow, lying down felt amazing.

Steve didn't bother to reply, and Danny basked in the silence for a bit. And it was silent. Past the thud of his own pulse and the ringing in his ears there was a whole lot of nothing. No birds, no bugs, no traffic. A fairly brisk breeze tugged at Danny's hair, but it too was silent.

After a minute Danny opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Steve. Steve was sitting with his head tipped back against the cabin and his eyes closed, his ridiculously long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. A small smile played around his lips, softening his features; he looked relaxed and content and happy and stunningly beautiful, and Danny felt his heart skip a beat. He quickly turned his head away, swallowing painfully around his dry throat.

He'd looked away just in time, it seemed; he heard the crunch of Steve's boots sliding over gravel and the soft groan as he stretched, and for fuck's sake could McGarrett ever have the decency to not sound completely pornographic? Danny heard Steve push himself to his feet and wander away from the cabin; Danny tipped his head to see what he was up to. Steve picked his way over the rocks towards the cliff's edge, stopping with his hands on his hips and scanning the horizon.

"Danny." Steve turned to look at him, his face completely lit up with something like awe; there went Danny's heart again. "C'mon, get over here, you've got to see this!"

Danny groaned. "I think that would involved standing, and that sounds pretty not-awesome right now."

Steve gestured frantically. "No, I'm serious, hurry up, this is incredible!"

"Really don't think it's going anywhere, babe," Danny pointed out, but he was already rolling over, getting his hands and knees underneath him and struggling to his feet.

Walking without the heavy backpack turned out to be an intensely weird experience; after having hours and miles to adjust to the weight of it, Danny now felt abnormally light. Bouncy, as if each step might propel him entirely off of the ground. It felt like walking on the moon, or Mars, and the lifeless, rocky surroundings completed the illusion that he'd been transported to another planet.

Danny came up next to Steve at the cliff's edge and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the view. Mauna Loa's massive caldera stretched before them, mind-bogglingly broad and deep, the bottom paved with pāhoehoe in patterns of infinite complexity, the cliffs tall and sheer. Danny figured it was about the same size as Kīlauea's equally impressive caldera, but longer and narrower, an oval where Kīlauea's was round. To the left he could see a collection of volcanic cinder cones poking up from the caldera floor—the remnants of old eruptions—and a gap in the cliffs leading to, as Danny remembered from one of Steve's maps, South Pit. To the right, the cliffs sloped gently down into North Pit, beyond which hovered cloud-wreathed Mauna Kea, now looking much smaller and more distant.

"...Wow," was all Danny could think to say.

Steve grinned wide and spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. "Moku‘āweoweo Crater," he said, as if presenting it for Danny's approval.

"How big do you think that thing is?" Danny wondered.

"Two-point-six by one-point-six miles," Steve answered immediately. When Danny raised an eyebrow at him, he added, "Approximately."

Danny shook his head wonderingly. Steve McGarrett, honest to God. "Next time I demand at least three decimals, babe."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve pointed to the cliffs directly across from them, where the great arc that was the top of the mountain stretched closest to the sky. "Look, there's the summit." He grinned at Danny. "That's where we're going tomorrow."

Danny groaned. "How is it possible for you to still sound so excited about that? I don't want to even think about it! Right now I'm thinking I want to lie down and never move again. Ever." He eyed the summit dubiously. It looked so far away. And they were going to have to go around the crater, not across it.

Steve was entirely oblivious to the feelings of dread Danny was experiencing, inspired by the contemplation of a nine mile round-trip hike at 13,500 feet, give or take. "You want a bit of a lie-down, Danny, we can accommodate. Come on, let's go check out the cabin."

Steve gave Danny a friendly slap on the back and steered him toward the cabin, wrestling open the slightly sticky door and venturing inside. Danny followed him, craning his neck to look around the interior. It was hardly five-star accommodations—every interior surface was untreated, unpainted plywood—but it was clean, and comfortable-looking. Two of the walls were lined with triple-high bunk beds, already made up with foam pads and sleeping bags, and about half of them with pillows. The room was well-illuminated with natural light pouring in through several windows which had glass panes, were openable, and were dressed with curtains. A sturdy-looking dining table and some metal folding chairs provided a place to sit and look out a window toward the crater, or inspect the detailed topographic map of the summit area that hung on the wall. A door led to a small kitchen area.

"Home sweet mountain home," Steve exclaimed with satisfaction. He glanced over at Danny, curious and maybe a little bit hopeful. "What do you think?"

Danny pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. "I don't see any dead bodies or skittering, leggy critters, so I guess I won't be sleeping outside," he concluded.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Let's bring our gear in."

It took a supreme effort of will to pick his gear up and haul it the final few feet into the cabin, but Danny consoled himself with the knowledge that he wouldn't have to touch it again for a couple of days. He dropped the bag next to Steve's in an out-of the-way corner and turned to consider the bunks. In the old days he and Matty would've fought each other for a top bunk; here and now he was spoiled for choice, and tired as he was—and maybe feeling his age a little, shh, don't tell anyone—scrambling up and down the side of the bunks without the help of a ladder seemed like way more effort than it was worth. Danny grabbed one of the complimentary pillows and chucked it into a bottom bunk. He sat down on the floor with a groan, plucking at his laces until he could pull the boots from his aching feet, then all but rolled into his bunk. He groaned again, this time from pleasure.

Steve chuckled, looking down at him with his hands on his hips and his eyes sparkling with fond amusement. "You're really serious about that lie-down, huh."

Danny thought about flipping him off, but again, that seemed like way too much effort. "You don't get it—clearly, you do not understand. I've got some soft, squishy foam, and a feather pillow, and I am horizontal, and now—now I'm going to close my eyes," Danny said, and he did. "This feels fantastic, McGarrett, it feels God-damn amazing, you should try it."

Steve chuckled again, softer. "Maybe I will, in a bit. I'm going to unpack a little. Enjoy your nap, Danno."

Danny thought about pointing out that unpacking could wait, oh my God, Steven. But he didn't, and instead, abruptly and very soundly, fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

At some point Danny woke again, briefly, some small sound prompting him to open his eyes and tip his head back; Steve was in the neighboring bunk, head-to-head with Danny only a few inches away, sleeping peacefully. Danny rolled over, hummed contentedly, and drifted off again.

~ ~ ~

When Danny woke the second time, Steve was already awake, seated at the table and reading something. Danny watched him for a few moments: Steve McGarrett at rest, quiet, peaceful. A rare sighting. Whatever he was reading was making him smile, a soft, warm curve of the lips.

Chance or intuition caused Steve to glance over toward Danny, and his smile brightened. "Hey, you're awake."

Danny groaned happily, stretching a little. "Whatcha doing?"

"Reading the guestbook." Steve tipped the book up so Danny could see. "Lots of interesting stories in here. People from all over the world. ...How was your nap?"

"Mmmmmm, glorious," Danny replied, propping himself up on his elbows and rolling his neck a little.

"It's getting towards dinnertime. What do you think?"

"Urgh. Already?"

"Yep. Time continues on at a steady pace." Steve's eyes twinkled.

Danny pushed himself out of his bunk and rolled to his feet, groaning, before wandering over to a window to peer out toward the caldera. Sure enough, the sun was blazing low in the west, the light on the rocks had taken on a more golden quality, and the shadows picked out by the subtle textures of the cliff's edge had widened and stretched. "Mmmff. So it does. ...Yeah, dinner sounds good. In a minute, I'm gonna go stretch my legs."

Steve nodded, turning back to his guestbook. "Sounds good. You're gonna want a fleece, Danny."

Danny had already started shuffling toward the door, but he detoured back to his pack to dig out a warmer layer before hauling the door open and venturing outside. "Hggghh, brrrr!" Danny hunched his neck down into his collar and shoved his hands into his pockets, glad that Steve had suggested a jacket. The wind had picked up a little, and the air had gone noticeably crisper and colder. Still, he took a moment to savor it, sipping at the sweetness, shuffling to the end of the cabin to get a broader view of the mountaintop. To the east, the blue of the sky had softened, framed at the horizon by a sea of pale, distant cumulous.

A small wave of shivering overtook him, and he forced himself to look away from all of nature's grandiose prettiness and hurry to the wooden stairs behind the cabin. After performing an inspection of the facilities, as it were, he hustled back to the front door of the cabin without lingering, pushing gratefully back into the warmth of sun-warmed air and Steve's lazy, fond regard.

Danny could feel his cheeks heat, and was glad that any suspicious pinkness could easily be blamed on the cold wind. Honestly, Steve needed to not… weaponize his gaze like that! Asshole.

Danny cleared his throat, unzipping his over-warm jacket a little. "So, what's chow?"

Steve leaned over to grab a stuff sack from the chair next to him and started pulling out packages of freeze-dried meals. "Well, we've got four dinners in here; you want beef stroganoff with noodles, lasagna with meat sauce, chicken and dumplings, or chili mac with beef?"

Danny screwed up his face doubtfully, considering. "I dunno, which freeze-dried monstrosity do you think will taste the least awful?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I know you're not gonna believe me until you try it—"

"Because I have had freeze-dried food before actually, Steven—"

"Yes, okay, I know what you're talking about, I've had a lot of mediocre stuff too—just trust me on this, Danny, Mountain House knows what it's doing, their food is delicious, actually, it's just better. Just... pretend you don't know it's going to be rehydrated food, pretend you're at a restaurant—"

"A restaurant."

"A restaurant, Danny, just order what you think sounds best."

"A restaurant. There gonna be tablecloths and candlelight?"

Steve sort of made a shrug face. "That could be arranged. Pick a dinner, Danny."

Danny pursed his lips, thinking. "All right, garçon, I'll have the chili mac, because it sounds like the one they'd have the hardest time screwing up horribly."

"Great, chili mac for you, chicken and dumplings for me. Side veg... sweet corn or green beans?" Steve waggled a couple of bags.

"Yeesh. I dunno, corn, whatever."

"Corn it is." Steve tossed the bags at Danny. "Do me a favor and get these open and fish the little desiccant packs out? I'll go check on the water, see if it's close to boiling."

Danny tossed him a lazy salute. "Ja wohl, Commandant." Steve rolled his eyes, pushing himself up from the table and making his way into the kitchen. Danny followed Steve's directions, shoving the desiccant packs and other trash into a spare baggie, then picking up one of the meal packs and scrutinizing it front and back. The instructions were in small font, hard to read in the dimming light. Danny squinted, and a tightening behind his eyes and forehead that he hadn't even noticed was there sharpened into a painful stab. He winced, rubbing at his temples.

"Hot water, coming up," Steve said, gingerly carrying an aluminum pot filled nearly to the brim with steaming water. "Boiled for a couple minutes, that ought to be hot enough even at this elevation. Hold one of those open for me?" Danny obediently held the meal packs open while Steve poured water in, then watched him quickly stir and seal the packs. "There, we'll give that fifteen minutes... hey, you okay, Danno?"

Danny blinked at the mild concern in Steve's voice, then grimaced a little. He'd been rubbing at his temples again. "Little bit of a headache, babe, that's all. Probably a little dehydrated."

"Could be." Steve passed Danny a water bottle, which he gladly accepted. "Could be the elevation getting to you a little. I've got pain pills, lemme know if you need them."

"Thanks, babe. I'm okay for now." Danny took a long swallow of water.

Steve nodded then peered out the window. "Oh, hey, the sun's setting. C'mon, let's get out there!" Steve hustled over to his pack, digging out a jacket, hat, and gloves. "C'mon, Danno!"

Danny groaned, pushing himself out of his chair and hobbling over to his own pack. "I dunno where you get all this energy, Steve. It's unnatural. Unsettling. And kind of disgusting."

Steve grinned. "Stop bitching and put your hat on."

"You know it's cold out there? This better be a damn good sunset."

Steve's grin got a little brighter. "Trust me, Danno, you're not gonna want to miss this."

Once they were both properly bundled up, Steve hustled them out the door and into the crisp, cold mountain air. It was noticeably chillier than it had been before, and Danny shivered, burrowing his chin into his jacket collar like a turtle retreating into its shell.

The last limb of the sun was sinking behind the far rim of the caldera, and they stood and watched until it blinked out of view. Then Steve snagged Danny's sleeve and dragged him around the side of the cabin so they could get a view to the east. The wind was strong and cold, and Danny's teeth chattered a little. "Gahh. Okay, sun's down, what are we doing?"

"Just wait for a few minutes," Steve chided. He shifted position slightly, casually pretending not to notice that he was now, just a little bit, blocking the wind for Danny. Danny huffed in exasperated amusement, and then casually pretended not to shuffle a couple of inches closer to Steve's sheltering bulk.

It was really cold, okay?

They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the sky turn pinks and purples and deepening, darkening blues. A hazy shape started to form in front of them, an obtuse triangle of shadowy sky, just a little darker blue than the rest of it. Steve pointed. "There. You see that?"

Danny nodded. "I do, yeah. Is that... is that the mountain...?"

"It's Mauna Loa's shadow, yeah."

"It's huge." The shadow stretched wide across the sky and was growing, climbing upwards as the sun sank lower.

"Largest active volcano on the planet," Steve pointed out. "Just a little longer, in a minute or two there should be something else...."

Danny waited patiently, content to just stand there and soak in the sky, even with the cold wind cutting through him. After a moment Steve stirred again. "There, you see that? That darker band at the bottom, stretching all the way across the sky?"

Danny had just started to notice it—a second shadow, slowly widening, not a cone like Mauna Loa but a long, curving band. "I see it, yeah. It... looks like it's eating the mountain-shadow? ...What is it?"

Steve grinned. "That, Danny, is the shadow of the Earth itself, projected against the atmosphere."

Danny gaped. "What? Really? No way. Is that even possible?" He found himself doing some mental gymnastics, working out the geometry.

"Sure," Steve said. "Happens every day, you just need a clear sky and an open horizon. This is the best one I've seen, I think."

"That's." Danny stared, blinking. "Once you stop and think about it it's simple, but. At the same time, looking at it, it's hard to wrap your brain around it, like, 'Oh, hey, that is the shadow of the Earth,' there's something about it that's just." He chuckled out a breathy laugh, at a loss for words for once in his life. "You got me, babe, that's. It's pretty amazing."

Steve was quiet for a moment; then, softly—"Glad I could share it with you."

Something about the way Steve said it made Danny's heart grow warm and swollen in his chest, made his breath come short and his pulse race. Something about the tone of his voice, and the way ‘with you’ seemed to be the most important part of the sentence. Or, well, it was probably just Danny projecting his own feelings onto Steve. Either way, he couldn't think of a response that didn't make the moment more fraught with dangerous emotion, so for once he kept his peace, watching the sky bruise into darker colors and trying not to shiver too much.

He probably failed at the not-shivering thing, because after a minute Steve rubbed a hand against Danny's jacket sleeve as if trying to warm him, then tugged on his arm a little. "C'mon, let's get back inside, warm up a little. Dinner should be ready."

"Oh goody," Danny replied, as dry as possible, and turned in time to catch Steve rolling his eyes before giving Danny a playful shove and leading the way back to the cabin.

The food was—irritatingly—actually pretty good, just as Steve had said it would be. Not that Danny was going to admit it. This didn't stop Steve smirking at the way Danny wolfed down his food, fast enough to burn his tongue.

When they were done eating Steve pulled out a pack of cards, and—after Steve ran outside, returning in a minute to cheerfully dump handfuls of volcanic cinder on the table in lieu of chips—they played poker by lantern and candlelight. It was a pleasant way to waste some time—or it would've been, if not for Danny's steadily worsening headache, which had sharpened into a painful searing stab at the back of one eye socket.

Danny tried to be subtle about it, steadfastly refusing to rub at his aching skull, but Steve, of course, noticed anyway, his brow wrinkling and his eyes going all soft and concerned. "What's up, Danno? You okay?"

Danny made a show of studiously considering his cards. "Hmm? I'm fine."

"You're squinting and your jaw's all clenched up. ...Is your head still hurting?"

Danny sighed, setting his cards down and giving in to the temptation to press his palms against the pressure in his eyeballs. "Ugh. Yeah, it's gotten worse."

Steve's concern palpably increased. "You wanna call it a night?"

"Nah, I'm good, I'm good, let's at least finish the game."

"Let me at least get you some pills, all right?" Without waiting for Danny's approval, Steve pushed himself up from the table and went over to his pack, fishing around until he unearthed his first aid kit and dug out a tiny bottle of ibuprofen. "Here. Take a couple," he directed, handing the bottle over before settling back down into his seat.

"Ugh," Danny reiterated, popping the cap and shaking out a couple of pills, swallowing them down with a few healthy swigs of water.

"It's probably the altitude. My head's getting a little achey, too." Steve gave him a sympathetic half-smile. "It should pass, eventually."

"God, I hope so," Danny complained. "...Thanks for the pills."

Steve's smile turned all soft and warm in a way that made Danny have to look away, his stomach flopping about like a fish. "You're welcome, Danno. ...Now, you gonna come at me like you're holding the flush I know you don't have, or are you gonna fold?"

Danny laughed, rubbing a hand over his face and pretending to consider his cards. Steve was right, he didn't have a flush. He had a full house. Steve was fucked. "Call and raise, asshole."

Danny won the pot, and the next, and Steve won the one after that. Danny sipped at instant cocoa and fiddled with his 'chips' and traded banter with Steve, but it got harder and harder to concentrate. His headache didn't improve. It got significantly worse, drilling into his skull with a pulsing, pounding rhythm. He was starting to feel... a bit sick, actually. Nauseous.

Steve raked in a pile of rocks from his third win in a row, but he didn't look triumphant. He eyed Danny with concern, tapping the deck against the table but not shuffling. "...You sure you don't wanna lie down, Danno." It wasn't quite a question.

Danny closed his eyes, propping his head up with one hand. "Is it that obvious?"

"You look fucking terrible."

Danny groaned. "Hey c'mon babe, lay it on me, don't hold back."

"It's worse?"

Danny started to nod his head, immediately thought better of it. "Much. ...Is nausea an altitude thing, is that like a normal thing?"

"Oh jeez, Danno." One of Steve's big, warm hands curled around Danny's forearm, squeezing a little. "Yeah, that's a thing that happens to some people. You've got it worse than most."

"Go me." Danny twirled a celebratory finger.

Steve tugged gently on Danny's arm. "C'mon, Danno, you should lie down. Maybe take a couple more pills."

Danny groaned again and opened his eyes, swallowing down some more ibuprofen before hauling himself up from the table and shuffling over towards his bunk, Steve hovering anxiously the whole time. He kicked off his boots and shed a couple of layers before crawling into his bunk and wriggling into his sleeping bag, every movement sending stabbing pains into his brain. He closed his eyes again and hoped fervently he wasn't going to throw up. "...This sucks."

"It does. 'M sorry, Danno."

Steve sounded distressed. Danny sighed. He was having a problem, and Steve couldn't fix it. It must be driving him nuts. "Don' worry about it, babe. I'll sleep through it."

Steve hovered for a few moments longer, then Danny heard him move off. Danny lay very still and tried to concentrate on absolutely anything except for the pain and nausea—the light changing behind his eyelids as Steve turned off the lantern, leaving only soft candlelight, the steady whoosh of the stove as Steve heated some water, the rustling and clatter and splashing of Steve clearing the table and washing the dishes. It was comforting, ought to have been soothing, but there was no ignoring the steady pounding of his head and the churning in his stomach.

He heard Steve go out of the cabin for a while, and come back in, and then his footsteps ceased for several long seconds. "...Still awake, huh?" Steve asked quietly after a moment.

"Mmmff," Danny replied.

A pause. "Probably help if you had something to think about other than feeling shitty, wouldn't it." A longer pause. "I could, uh... read to you?"

Danny's first impulse was to laugh, picturing himself reading to Gracie, something with magic and sword-wielding princesses. Then he had another memory, of being sick in bed, hot with fever and throat sore, his mom brushing his sweat-damp hair from his forehead and patiently reading to him for hours. He felt a sudden and intense yearning for that time, for that feeling, that comfort and love and care. It had been a long, long time since anyone had read aloud to him.

"That could—if you wouldn't mind, that could be good, I think."

"Of course I don't mind." Danny heard Steve go to his pack and start digging through it.

"Dare I ask what book you've hiked all the way up to the top of this mountain?"

"Hemingway. For Whom the Bell Tolls."

Danny hummed. "I haven't read that one."

"You want me to start at the beginning, or...."

"Nah, no, it's fine babe, just go ahead and read wherever you're at."

"Okay." Danny heard Steve settle into a chair, and he opened his eyes briefly to catch Steve bent over the book, lit softly by candlelight as he flipped to his page. Steve glanced over to Danny, caught him watching, and smiled. Danny smiled back and closed his eyes.

"Okay," Steve said again, and cleared his throat theatrically.

"'How little we know of what there is to know. I wish that I were going to live a long time instead of going to die today because I have learned much about life in these four days; more, I think than in all other time. I'd like to be an old man to really know. I wonder if you keep on learning or if there is only a certain amount each man can understand. I thought I knew so many things that I know nothing of. I wish there was more time.'"

Steve's voice rumbled on, low and soothing, and Danny found himself listening for the shape of the words more than their meaning, for the music of it in Steve's voice, like the bass line at the back of a jazz song, and still he ached but Steve's voice was a current of sun-warmed water pulling him down deep, and he slept.

~ ~ ~

A bit. He slept a bit. What sleep he had was shallow, a dizzying miasma of nonsensical half-dreams, and every time he turned over he woke again, and the pain in his head and the stuffy, sweaty heat of his sleeping bag (although of course it was too cold for him to let more air in) kept him awake for long, tortuous—minutes? hours?—until he slipped back into the swirling maelstrom.

It was torture. It lasted for hours. It went on and on and seemed like it would never stop, until a soft noise roused him and he opened his eyes and it was light out, not dark, and Steve was moving carefully around the cabin.

Danny groaned, deep and heartfelt. Steve was crouching at his side in an instant. "Danno? How did you sleep?"

Danny groaned again and shut his eyes. "I didn't, mostly."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Danno. Head still hurting?"

Danny took stock. There was still a pounding in his temples and behind his eyes, although at this point he wasn't sure if that was the altitude or the lack of sleep, or maybe there wasn't any difference, really. "Yeah. Head still sucks. Nausea's gone, though."

"That's... good, I guess."

"Mmf."

Steve checked his watch, then got up and grabbed the ibuprofen and a bottle of water, holding it out to Danny. "Here, you should take another dose."

Danny sighed but reached for the bottles. "Might as well. Thanks." He swallowed the pills and water down then set the bottles on the floor, lying down again and closing his eyes. "Been awake long? What're you up to?"

"Not long," Steve replied, and paused. "Ah. You know, depends. I was gonna see how you were feeling, but it seems like you're not feeling great, so...."

Danny frowned. Why the hell was Steve babbling? Then he remembered. "Oh. The summit."

"Yeah, um. Don't suppose you're feeling up to it?"

Just thinking about it sent a wave of exhaustion and something like despair washing through him. "Oh, babe. No, I'm really not."

"Right. Yeah, kinda didn't think so. ...Well, that's okay, we can hang here instead."

Danny's eyes shot open. "What? No! No, babe, you should go."

Steve's forehead crinkled. "I'm not just gonna leave you here, Danny."

"Christ, Steve—you've been looking forward to this for what, actual, literal years, don't miss it on my account."

His forehead crinkled more. "Danny, seriously. I'm not gonna ditch you while you're lying here having a shitty time—it's my fault you're up here feeling sick in the first place, we should've acclimatized better—"

"Steve, stop, shush—listen to me!" He caught Steve's gaze and held it, making a 'clamp your lips shut and leave 'em that way or so help me Steven' gesture with one hand. Steve, miraculously, did. "Steve, it's your goddamn birthday, and happy birthday by the way—I am feeling shitty, yes, but that is not your fault, that is not on you, so you can cut the damn guilt trip. I am feeling better than I was last night, so while I'm not up to a nine mile hike at elevation first thing in the morning, I expect I'll continue to improve, you're not, like, leaving me here to suffer in agony or whatever. I'm just gonna take a nap, lie still, read a book or something. I'll be fine. You..." He took a deep breath, let it out again. "You have to go, Steve. Please. I know how long you've wanted to do this. I don't wanna be the one who ruins that for you. It—seriously, Steve, it would make me happy if you go."

Steve was frowning, but his stubbornness was giving way to uncertainty. "...Really, Danny?" He sounded doubtful.

"Really, Steve. Babe—" Danny reached out and grabbed Steve's hand, squeezing for emphasis, "—you're going to enjoy it a lot more than I would've anyway, and it would've been cool to share it with you, but—you were gonna do this whole thing by yourself anyway—"

"It's better with you here," Steve interjected softly.

Danny swallowed around a lump that suddenly lodged in his throat. He squeezed Steve's hand again. "Yeah, well I'm here. Against all likelihood and everything that is reasonable, I hauled my ass all the way up here. And I'll be here when you get back."

Steve just stared at Danny for a long moment, frozen, looking like he wasn't entirely sure which emotions he was supposed to be having. Finally he said, quietly, "Thank you, Danny. I'm not sure I said properly, but this means a lot to me. All of this. You coming up here with me. Thank you."

Danny swallowed again, his mouth dry, his heart pounding harder and his chest aching a little. Steve's eyes were dark and serious, and just a little too intense. It was all just a little too intense, but that was Steve all over, wasn't it? He cleared his throat. "Hey, you're welcome babe. Any time, you know that right? But especially on your birthday. Happy birthday, buddy."

Steve smiled a little, small and warm and achingly sweet. Danny's heart picked up speed. They were still holding hands. "Thanks, Danno."

Danny smiled back, a little bit desperately. "Go on, go. Have fun. Commune with your volcano. I'll be here."

Steve smiled wider, squeezing Danny's hand. "Good." He stood then, releasing Danny's hand, and Danny was glad because if he had to stare into the blinding warmth of Steve's smile any longer he might actually die. His hand felt cold, though, and he tucked it back into his sleeping bag with only the tiniest twinge of longing.

"You want breakfast?" Steve called from the kitchen area.

"No thanks, babe, I'll make myself something later. I'm gonna stay in bed for a bit." Danny closed his eyes and once again relaxed into the comfortable domestic sounds of Steve bustling about, making food and getting his things together. He drifted a little, stirring and opening his eyes sometime later when Steve knelt next to him again.

"Hey Danny, how's it going?"

"S'okay."

"I'm gonna go, I should be gone... I dunno, five hours, six if I take my time?"

Danny wriggled a wrist out of his sleeping bag so he could squint at his watch. "Got it."

"You'll be alright?"

Danny smiled wryly. "I'll be fine, Steve. You be careful out there."

Steve smiled back and nodded. "I will. ...Here, drink this." He set a cup down next to Danny's bunk; Danny could tell by the smell it was one of those fizzy vitamin-C-and-electrolytes powders that tastes a little bit like chalk.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yes, nurse." He was a bit thirsty, though. He grabbed the cup and took a few swallows. It wasn't too bad, actually.

Steve grinned, reaching over and ruffling Danny's hair. "See you, Danno."

Danny batted ineffectually at Steve's hand, pretending to be irritated, then lay his head down and watched through half-closed lids as Steve shouldered a light daypack and let himself out into the morning sunshine. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything that wasn't his aching head—the clean yet musty smell of the sun-warmed wood around him, the pleasant warmth inside the cocoon of his sleeping bag, the warmth that bloomed from a place just behind his ribcage when he thought of Steve's soft eyes and fond smile.

He slept.

When he woke again the quality of the light had changed, and it was warmer, almost stuffy. He wormed his arms out of his sleeping bag to try to cool off a little. He blinked his sleep-sticky eyes and took stock. His head—his head felt a lot better, wow. Still vaguely achey, but not painful, just a slight squeeze. Either the pills were kicking in in a big way, or his body was starting to adapt to the thin atmosphere.

Danny wriggled out of his sleeping bag and gingerly maneuvered himself out of his bunk, standing and stretching. He poked his nose out of the front door, testing the air, before grabbing a fleece and groggily stumbling his way around to the composting toilet.

Feeling relieved, he wandered over to the edge of the crater to take in the view. The change from the day before was astounding and unexpected. The color and angle of the light, the size and direction of the shadows had changed of course, and the difference it made was dramatic. There were two new features on the floor of the crater that were even more surprising: steam, everywhere, billowing up from discrete points in the lava plain and stretched out, flag-like, by the wind; and beneath every trailing cloud of steam a dusting of powdery white frost over the rocks. Yesterday the crater floor had been barren, sun-baked and still. Today the crater was alive.

Danny realized the steam vents must have been there the whole time, it was just that the relatively warm and dry air of a sunny afternoon had rendered them invisible. In the cold of the night and early morning the vapor had condensed into mist, and then frozen and fallen to the ground.

...Either that or Mauna Loa was waking up and any moment now she would erupt and kill them all. That would be just about Danny's luck, wouldn't it?

Still, it was beautiful, imminent death or no.

After a bit, Danny went inside to see about breakfast. He raised his eyebrows dubiously at the breakfast options (rehydratable ‘breakfast skillet’ and rehydratable ‘scrambled eggs and bacon’), but considering the surprising edibility of his dinner he decided to give it a try. While his bag of freeze-dried proteins and carbohydrates was soaking up its hot water he made himself some cocoa, digging out the small flask in his pack to tip a splash of whiskey into it, because he deserved it, God dammit.

His ‘breakfast skillet’—hash browned potatoes, scrambled eggs, pork sausage, peppers, and onions—was once again almost astoundingly tasty, better even than the chili mac had been. It really was irritating how often Steve was right about things, the dickhead. Danny ate at the table with the bright daylight pouring in through the windows, chewing and sipping leisurely while he browsed through the guest book. Steve was right (again); it was pretty interesting, scribbled stories and notes in varied handwriting. Some locals, but mostly folks from all over the place—several states, countries on a few different continents. One local woman appeared more than once in the book, one entry just a couple months back proclaiming her fortieth trip to the summit cabin. Several of the entries mentioned snow, and Danny tried to imagine the mountain as they'd described it, patches of frosty white amidst the steam vents and dappling the rocky slopes.

Danny turned a page and found yesterday's date scrawled in familiar handwriting—oh. Steve had written an entry.

It's a perfect afternoon on the summit of Mauna Loa, sunny and clear, and I'm thrilled to be here. This has been on my life list for so many years. I've finally found the time to make the climb—on the eve of my birthday no less!—and better yet, I'm up here with my favorite person, my number one guy Danno. I feel very fortunate to be in this place, so far away from the rest of the world, where it's quiet and the air is clean and you can feel the mana of the rocks, of the mauna—and of course being in a place like this is even more special when you can share it with someone you like.

Tomorrow we make for the summit!

– Steve (and Danno), O‘ahu, Hawai‘i

Danny felt something warm and effervescent in his stomach. 'Favorite person,' it said. 'Number one guy,' it said. Danny's cheeks were hot, and he felt a bit like an idiot feeling so pleased about this, like he's some adolescent girl—but still, Steve had never said these things out loud, not in so many words, and it—it felt good. 'Favorite person'—not Cath or Mary Ann or Aunt Deb—Danny. Meanwhile Danny's favorite person—well, tied for favorite with Grace—his other favorite person was miles away summiting the mountain, and Danny's heart ached suddenly with missing him.

Fuck. This trip was not helping with his Steve-feelings problem. Danny clapped the guest book shut and forcibly quashed any lingering feelings of warmth and tinglyness, busying himself with cleaning up his few breakfast dishes and brushing his teeth.

It was starting to be almost a reasonable temperature outside by that point, and his headache had entirely disappeared, so Danny decided to poke around a little. Remembering the dire warnings from the national park website, he slathered up with sunscreen first, and snagged a hat and a water bottle. He moseyed first in the direction of the old-fashioned outhouse he'd seen on the way in. Danny chuckled to himself and took a few pictures; he couldn't help it, it was so classic—closet-sized, made of unfinished wood, moon-shaped window in the door and all. Unlike pit-toilets he could remember from traumatizing early-childhood camping trips, there was absolutely no smell, and unlike the composting toilet, this one had an epic view overlooking the caldera.

Next he wandered in the other direction, southwards along the crater's edge. Very near the cabin there were some low rock walls, wind shelters for tent camping. Danny shivered just thinking about it. He'd take the nice soft bed in the nice warmish cabin, please and thank you.

There was a trail leading away from the cabin to the south, and Danny followed it for a bit. He knew from the maps it lead to another cabin, several miles away and several hundred feet below, and from there eventually to Highway 11 in the Ka‘ū Desert. There wasn't much to see; the trail veered away from the crater view, leaving only a rocky plain and the eye-wateringly blue vast and empty sky. He looked over his shoulder and the cabin was small and distant. There was nothing alive that he could see in that sun-baked plain, no sound but his own breathing; the back of his neck crawled with faint anxiety. He turned back.

Danny felt better near the cabin. He scoffed at himself, that this barest semblance of civilization, of humanity, would be comforting. And yet. He waffled at the edge of the crater for a bit, wondering how to fill his time, before popping inside to steal Steve's book and a spare sleeping bag and making a nest for himself near the cliff's edge, tucked into the lee of one of the tent shelters to keep himself out of the cold, cutting wind.

There was something fitting and appropriate about reading Hemingway in these surroundings, something about his stark, spare, unadorned language that matched the still, bleak, lifeless terrain. Danny glanced up from his book occasionally, watching as the bright sun and thin, dry air evaporated the frost on the floor of the caldera, the steam fading into invisibility until nothing moved on the mountain, nothing at all. Everything was still and silent.

Danny got up periodically to stretch his legs, to eat a little, to hear something other than the sound of pages turning and the ringing in his ears. At one point in the early afternoon he dug out the two precious, oversized bottles of craft beer he'd smuggled up the mountain—still intact and unbroken!—and tucked them into the cool shade at the back of the building in a spot they wouldn't be seen easily. He went back to the edge of the cliff and sat, picking up the book and holding it in his hands, but he didn't open it, looking instead out across the expanse before him.

There had been changes after all, slow, subtle shifts—shadows shrinking, swinging around, and starting to grow again in the other direction, highlighting the subtle textures of the rocks—adjustments in the quality and color of the sunlight—thin, icy wisps of cirrus cloud marring the formerly unblemished blue of the sky. There was a music to this place, but the rhythm was slow, the volume turned down to a low murmur. It was so much the opposite of everything Danny had ever known—empty of the urban throngs of people with all their noise and rushing about, the dense clusters of buildings in brick and concrete and glass piling up like a terrestrial reef, even the air thin and devoid of humidity, scent, and warmth. An alien landscape, empty, completely unconcerned with the doings of humanity. It was disconcerting, but on another level... peaceful. So, so peaceful. He hadn't heard another human voice, not even his own, in hours. In the quiet and the still he could sit and think, or sit without thinking, become sunbaked and unmovable like the rocks around him. He supposed he ought to find the solitude boring, and yet he was content.

Still, somewhere on this mountain, somewhere out across this vast stone desert, was another speck of life. Danny wondered where on the mountain Steve was, just at that moment. Had he reached the summit? Was he right now, right this second, at the highest point on the mountain, maybe sitting on his own cliff on the other side of the crater a mile and a half away, looking back at Danny? Danny smiled a little at the thought and, feeling like a total goof, lifted his hand to wave at the distant cliffs. Just in case.

Most likely he was already on his way back, based on what he’d told Danny that morning. Danny had gotten the impression Steve was rushing the trip a little out of some sense of guilt at leaving Danny behind. Which was ridiculous, because he shouldn’t rush, shouldn’t short-change himself on this thing he’d been dreaming about for so long. Danny had been giving him a lot of shit about ‘communing with the volcano,’ but he knew Steve lived for this stuff, being out in nature, in the elements, dwarfed by something much bigger and older and more powerful than him. Danny wished he would take his time, enjoy it.

...And yet. Danny would be lying if he said he wasn’t missing Steve, just a little. The solitude was fine, unexpectedly pleasant, even, but he’d prefer to be sharing this place and this time with someone. With Steve especially. He would pretty much always prefer to be sharing his time with Steve.

Danny imagined what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t gotten that godawful headache. He would’ve gone with him to the summit, for sure. He wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much as Steve; the idea of an exhausting several mile hike at this elevation, just to gain a few hundred feet and a slightly different view of Mauna Loa’s giant, rocky dome and a really big hole in the ground didn’t very much appeal. But spending the time with Steve, and getting to see him light up with the triumph of his success and that incandescent, joyful smile as he reached the summit—that would’ve been worth the struggle and toil. It would’ve been worth anything.

Danny sighed. He was kind of fucked, wasn’t he? Here he was, literal miles outside of his comfort zone, dealing with an achingly heavy pack and thin air and freezing cold and solar radiation and a blindingly sharp altitude headache—for what? For the way Steve smiled, for his long, dark eyelashes, for the way he cared so earnestly, for how good he always was with Danny’s kid, for how easy it was to be around him (when he wasn’t being a jackass), for the way he gave Danny heart palpitations when he smirked or laughed or stood just a little too close or worried about Danny. For all the things Danny wanted so badly but couldn’t have.

Out here alone in the middle of nowhere, where no one would ever have to know, Danny allowed himself a few minutes of indulgence, to bust down the walls he’d carefully constructed around the core of his feelings, his wants and desires—walls he’d built to protect his professionalism, and the friendship he treasured. He gingerly opened up a chink in the barrier and let himself sit, for just a little, with a dream of another world where Steve wasn’t just his best friend. He imagined settling into Steve’s home, that warm, airy house where he already felt comfortable, restful—and never having to leave, having his own place there, not needing to be made welcome because it was his, too, because he belonged. He pictured what it would be like to finish work at the end of the day, and smile at Steve, and go home with him—every single day. To just reach out and touch Steve, whenever he wanted, to trace the contours of his face with his fingertips, to hold him, to kiss him. To taste the salt of his skin. To go to bed with him, to look at him with desire and see him look back, wanting. He thought of what it would be like to make breakfasts together, lunches, dinners, bumping shoulders and smiling, to spend hours together comfortably, not needing to talk.

He should tell him, he thought. He should tell him. The idea of it twisted him up inside, squeezed him breathless at the thought of what he would risk, what he could lose. But it was too late for him, wasn’t it. He knew what he wanted from Steve, and it wasn’t right, wasn’t honest to go on this way, hiding away half of himself from the one person he wanted to share everything with. He couldn’t imagine how, or when, but he should. He had to.

In the distance, then, softly: “Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuiiiiii!!!” Steve’s voice. Danny stood up, shaded his eyes to look. Down the trail, across the stony plain, a tiny speck, a mote of light and color. Steve.

Danny smiled, and waved his arms wildly so Steve would see him. And then he sat down, and looked across the crater, and carefully built his wall back up, putting his feelings away.

After some number of minutes looking out across the crater and carefully thinking of nothing much at all, Danny heard the crunch of approaching footsteps, the muffled thump of a dropped pack, and then Steve plopped himself down next to Danny, making space for himself on Danny’s sleeping bag nest. Danny turned to look at him. He was grinning, a little sweaty, a little flushed—from sun or exertion or probably a little of both. “Hey, you,” Danny greeted.

“Hey,” Steve replied. “Cozy spot you’ve got here. How’re you feeling?”

“Much better. Headache’s gone, I feel fine. Just been taking it easy, napping, reading, exploring a bit. Taking in the view. How was the summit?”

Danny watched Steve’s eyes crinkle as he grinned wider. “Oh, it was great! Some interesting rocks along the hike. Another big ahu at the summit. The cliffs are taller on that side, so the view of the crater’s pretty epic, and you get a little closer to that 1940 cone. I’ll show you my pictures.”

Danny smiled fondly at Steve’s enthusiasm. “Was it everything you dreamed of and more?”

Steve turned to look out over the crater. “...Pretty close.” He studied the view for a few moments in silence before his mouth twisted a little, smile turning wry. “Missed you out there, buddy.”

Danny turned to look at the view also; it seemed safer. He swallowed down a sudden fit of butterflies. “‘Course you did, everybody knows I’m awesome.” As soon as the words came out it didn’t quite sit right with him, to not meet Steve with equal sincerity, so he reached out and shoved Steve’s shoulder. “Missed you too.” And it was worth it, to be able to watch Steve out of the corner of his eye and see him smile.

~ ~ ~

Steve and Danny spent the rest of the afternoon shooting the shit and playing cards—silly, low-stakes games like Go Fish, Russian Donkey, even a few rounds of War that involved increasing levels of shit-talking despite not involving any amount of skill whatsoever. After a round of Speed nearly devolved into a wrestling match, a temporary halt to card-based hostilities was called in favor of eating dinner.

Steve went into the kitchen area to start some water boiling, and Danny took the opportunity to slip outside and retrieve his smuggled twenty-two ounce bottles of Big Island Brewhaus, setting the two beers and a bottle opener in the middle of the table and leaning nonchalantly on the edge. Steve came back into the room and zeroed in on the bottles immediately, eyebrows going up before looking to Danny, the hint of a smile beginning to hover around the edges of his mouth. “Ta-daaaaa!” said Danny, doing jazz hands in the general direction of the beer.

Steve grinned. “Aw, Danno, you shouldn’t have,” he said, coming over to inspect the bottles.

“No, in fact, as I think you’ll find, I definitely should’ve,” Danny replied, grinning back.

“Oh man, White Mountain Porter and Red Sea of Cacao, yes please and thank you,” Steve enthused. “...And what did you bring for you to drink?”

“Ha ha, fuck you very much McGarrett!” Danny replied cheerfully.

In the end they decided to share, putting the chocolatey red ale back outside to keep cool and filling camp cups with dark, toasty porter, eating Mountain House out of the bag while they played another round of Russian Donkey. When they’d exhausted the food, the beer, and the game, Steve stretched and sighed contentedly before standing and retrieving his jacket. “‘Scuse me Danno, I’mma hit the head.”

“We’re not on a boat, McGarrett!” Danny called after him. Steve just grinned at him on his way out the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Danny went over to his pack, digging around for his other carefully smuggled culinary treasure—a ziplock bag containing two sweet, sticky slabs of baked mochi, one butter mochi, one chocolate. He fished a lighter and a couple of birthday candles out of a side pocket and brought everything into the kitchen, then popped out to trade their dinner trash and eating utensils for a single clean knife. He arranged the mochi on top of their ziplock (alas, they hadn’t brought the fine china) and stuck a candle in each one, then did what little washing needed to be done.

Hearing the front door open, Danny poked his nose through the doorway. Steve had brought in the second bottle of beer, which he waggled at Danny. “Round two?”

“Sounds good babe, I’ll be out in just a second,” Danny replied, ducking back into the kitchen. He lit the candles and carefully picked up his precious bundle, carrying it into the room with great ceremony.

Steve glanced up from pouring beer, looking startled. “Wh—are you kidding me, Danno, did you bring me cake?” Steve grinned wide.

“Even better, babe,” Danny replied, setting his burden down.

“Oh shit, butter mochi!” Steve grinned wider. “Danny, you are the best!”

Danny couldn’t help grinning back. “Yes, I am,” he agreed.

Steve smiled down at his birthday mochi and the cheerfully burning candles, then looked at Danny again and raised his eyebrows, his grin turning playful. “What, you’re not going to sing me happy birthday?”

Danny crossed his arms. “No, I’m not going to sing, I do not sing.”

“You sing happy birthday for Grace,” Steve pointed out.

“Grace is my beloved daughter and a perfect angel and also a child, yes I sing for Grace.” Steve just made a dumb, wide-eyed face that after a few moments Danny realized was meant to be puppy-eyes. “Oh my God, stop that, you look ridiculous, you are failing at being cute—ugh, you know what, fine.” Danny rolled his eyes, took a breath, and sang. “Happy birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey—”

“Oi, fine, cut it out! Dickhead.” Steve was trying not to laugh.

Danny smirked. “Blow out your damn candles, asshole.” Steve blew out his candles, then leaned against the table with his eyes closed, a tiny, soft smile hovering around his lips. After a few moments he nodded minutely and opened his eyes. “What’s up, babe?” Danny asked.

Steve’s lips quirked into a small, wry half-smile. “Making a wish. You know. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah? What’d you wish for?”

Steve’s eyes lifted then to meet Danny’s, soft, blue-gray-green, and unfathomable. Danny’s breath hitched. Steve was silent for a few moments, a silence filled by the buzzing in Danny’s ears. Then Steve offered up another wry smile and shook his head. “Can’t tell you, can I?”

Danny’s heart thudded uncomfortably and his neck felt hot. “Right, uh, guess not, doesn’t work if you tell, does it?” He swallowed, reaching for his cup of beer and raising it toward Steve, clearing his throat. “Well, here’s hoping it comes true.”

Steve picked up his cup and clacked it against Danny’s, clearing his throat, too. “Mm-hmm, yep.”

They sat down to mochi and beer, then, cutting the sticky sweet dessert into pieces and eating it with their fingers, Steve making his usual assortment of satisfied groans while appreciating the flavors, which Danny, as usual, desperately tried to ignore. (To be fair, Danny agreed that both beer and mochi were fucking spectacular; the auntie Danny had bought the desserts from clearly knew what she was doing, and the chocolate mochi paired well with the chocolatey red ale.)

Their conversation drifted, from local micro-breweries and distilleries they wanted to visit, to trips they wanted to take, to trips they’d taken in the past, to assorted childhood memories. Steve told great stories—adventures from his SEAL days, bittersweet memories of his family—and Danny relished the opportunity to sit and watch him, Steve’s eyes going soft with remembrance, brilliant grins flashing suddenly across his face, the sweep of his hands as he gestured wildly. It was mesmerizing. They finished the beer and moved on to Danny’s whiskey, sipping directly from the flask which they passed back and forth across the table.



At some point Steve swapped the harsh light of a camp lantern for the softer glow of a few candles. Danny slumped comfortably in his chair, feeling relaxed and happy, warmed by the candlelight and whiskey and proximity to Steve. In the middle of telling a story about his police academy days, Danny yawned so wide his jaw cracked.

Steve smirked. “Wow, Danny. Good news is, your tonsils look to be in great shape.”

“Shush, you.” Danny glanced at his watch; they’d been talking for hours. “Oh, wow. No wonder I’m yawning. Thought it was just the whiskey.”

“Mm, yeah, suppose we should think about calling it a night.” Steve waggled the flask, then held it out to Danny. “Here, kill it. There’s just a drop left.”

Danny accepted the flask, tipping the last few drops down his throat. As he screwed the cap back on, he caught Steve watching him with a small content smile. Danny smiled back. “We should do this kind of thing more often,” he said.

Steve’s eyebrows went up and his smile stretched slowly into a wide shit-eating grin. “Do this? Climb mountains? What, did I just hear Danny Williams say that he thinks we should go backpacking on active volcanoes more often, is that what just happened?”

Danny rolled his eyes so hard he nearly hurt himself, but he was grinning too, couldn’t help it. “Yes, fine, shut up, I’m not saying this wasn’t terrible, parts of this were terrible, but the rest of it—ehhhhhh…” He waggled a hand, comme çi, comme ça. Steve rolled his eyes and Danny grinned wider. “Sure. Yes, I would climb another mountain with you sometime. ...I meant kinda more in general, though. Just… all of this.” He gestured around vaguely. “Getting away from things. It’s just—” He pursed his lips, thought for a moment. “It’s good to see you looking so relaxed. Smiling, instead of making aneurysm face. It’s the most I’ve seen you smile in a bit, I think. Probably good to get away from the bullets and explosions once in a while. Fresh air and stuff.”

Steve was definitely smiling now, and oh, there was that warm, fluttery feeling in Danny’s chest again. “Yeah. No, I’m glad we could do this, glad I could share it with you. There’s definitely something about getting away from it all. ...And, you know, there’s the company.” Steve ducked his head, then snagged one of the empty bottles, offering it for Danny to clink with a smile. Danny obliged, smiling back as he tapped it with his empty flask.

They smiled at each other for just a moment too long, then Danny shook himself. “All right, come on, we should get to bed.” He slid the makeshift dessert platter towards Steve. “Here, last piece of chocolate mochi, eat it—no, I don’t want it, it’s yours.”

Steve sighed, looking put upon, and shoved the last piece into his mouth—and then carefully licked each of his fingers, augh, why. Danny snagged the trash and empties and escaped to the safety of the kitchen, where he only didn’t hit his head against the wall repeatedly because Steve would probably hear it.

Steve and Danny bustled about companionably, clearing things away, brushing teeth, taking turns at changing into sleep clothes and using the bathroom. It was pleasantly, comfortably domestic. When Danny had to go outside the cold was like a slap in the face, the breeze, a little stronger than before, cutting through him like a knife; he hurried back into the warmth of the cabin as quickly as possible.

Steve was already in his bunk when Danny came in, so Danny blew out the candles and followed suit as quickly as possible, burrowing into the blessed warmth of his sleeping bag and worming an arm out only to turn off his headlamp and set it on the floor next to him. He shifted until he was nestled in cozy and snug and closed his eyes. He could hear Steve’s soft breathing close by, and he gave himself a few moments to bask in the warm, happy feeling he’d been enjoying all evening. The struggle to get up here, the horrible headache and nausea of the previous night all felt like a distant memory. They’d have to leave the next morning, and although of course he was looking forward to going home to Grace, a part of him ached at the thought of leaving this mountain, this tiny bubble of stolen time where it was just the two of them, content, and the rest of the world was so far away.

He heard Steve shift in his bunk. “Danny?”

Danny opened his eyes into the darkness. “Yeah, Steve?”

Steve was quiet for a few moments. “...Hey, Danno, I just. I just wanted to say thank you, for coming all the way up here with me, for buying all the gear, and making the climb, I know it’s not your first choice of places to go or things to do—”

“Now hold on a minute here Steve, listen—”

“No, Danny, please, let me finish.” Steve paused again, but this time Danny obediently kept his peace, waiting. “I know this mountain, it’s more of a me thing than a you thing, but it means a lot, it means so much to me to have you here with me. There’s no one in the world I’d rather share this with. And I know it’s been rough on you a little, with the altitude sickness—”

“I’d do it again,” Danny said, and was surprised that he meant it.

“I know,” Steve said softly. “I know, and thank you. For being here for me, with me. For this and all the other times, being there. Being you. Thank you.”

Christ. Danny couldn’t speak at first through the tightness in his throat and the squeezing in his chest. Jesus fucking Christ, McGarrett. Danny had to swallow hard and think very precisely about his words so he didn’t spit out something stupid like ‘I love you.’ “Steve,” he said carefully, “by no means do you gotta thank me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than spending time with you, even if it’s on top of a fucking mountain, but. You’re welcome. It is, in fact, my actual pleasure to be here. And hey, Steve… happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Danno. It’s a good one.”

“Good,” Danny said definitively. “...Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Danno.”

Danny didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep for a long time with all the butterflies whirling around in his stomach, but eventually the warmth of his sleeping bag and the whiskey in his bloodstream and mostly Steve’s soft, slow, even breaths settled him, and he dropped off into a deep and contented sleep.

~ ~ ~

“Danno.”

Danny grunted, jerking slightly as he woke abruptly, blinking at his surroundings in confusion. It was daylight. Steve was crouched next to Danny’s bunk, one hand on Danny’s shoulder. Steve squeezed his shoulder, smiling apologetically. “Hey, sorry to wake you,” he said. “The weather seems like it’s turning. We probably shouldn’t linger; I don’t wanna get stuck up here.”

Danny blinked. “Shit. How much of a hurry are we in?”

“It’s okay right now, but it looks like it could worsen later. We should pack and eat and get moving.” Steve squeezed his shoulder again then stood up. “C’mon, I’ll get breakfast together.”

Danny struggled out of his sleeping bag, snagging his fleece before heading outside to the toilet. The wind was still up from last night, and the air felt colder than it had the previous mornings. The thin, wispy clouds from the afternoon before had brought friends; they didn’t look like they held much moisture, but it was a notable change from the unblemished blue dome of their first day-and-a-half on the mountain. The view below them to the east had also changed, from a hazy, distant blue punctuated by a few vaporous fluffs to a solid blanket of cloud, far below them but thick and substantial.

Danny rushed back in out of the cold as quickly as possible. “Guess this is that ‘chance of wind and rain’ you saw in the forecast, huh?”

Steve flashed a small smile. “Looks like more than a chance today. ...C’mon, food’s hot.”

Steve and Danny ate quickly then worked with companionable efficiency to clean up, pack their things, filter water and fill their bottles. They hauled their packs outside, shutting the cabin up tight behind them, and briskly tied boot laces and slathered on sunscreen. Danny squinted at the sky above and the weather below; it didn’t look like it had changed much, for better or worse.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

Danny nodded, getting to his feet. “You know, I think I’m actually a little sad to be leaving this place.”

Steve smiled. “We’ll have to come back sometime.”

“Or, you know, climb a different active volcano.”

“Haleakalā,” Steve singsonged, grinning.

Danny hoisted his pack, struggling a little bit to get it situated and buckled properly. He was gratified to find it noticeably lighter sans a couple days’ worth of beer, whiskey, food, and fuel. There were tender spots on his shoulders and hip bones, however, that didn’t appreciate the re-application of weight and pressure. He grimaced. Well, it was only a few more hours of this and he could take a hot soaking bath.

Steve and Danny set off across the lava, by silent agreement moving swiftly, with limited and very brief stops for rest, water, or conversation. The heat of exertion under heavy pack was a good bulwark against the cold of the wind, but it tugged and pushed against their tall, bulky backpacks, shoving them sideways across the trail and requiring increased concentration to avoid a stumble or a misstep.

They picked their way down into North Pit, past the alarmingly deep and sheer-sided pit crater, and across the gold and silver pāhoehoe plain. Shortly after climbing out of North Pit, as they approached the vent above the World’s Most Ridiculous/Scenic Toilet, Steve stopped, unclipping his waist belt and swinging his pack to the ground. Danny caught him up.

“What’s up, babe?”

“Grabbing a snack, something I can eat while walking. My blood sugar’s low, but I don’t think we should stop to eat.” He frowned in the direction of the weather.

Danny turned to look as well. “Y’know, I think I agree with you there.” The wind had continued to pick up steadily, and the layer of wispy, high-altitude clouds had thickened so that the sunlight filtered through them, weak and silvery. The clouds below them had gotten thicker, and higher, climbing up the mountain slope towards them. A little more concerning, the clouds had lost their blanketlike structure, roiling in a slow-motion boil and stacking up in a pile, lifted by a strengthening updraft.

Danny dropped his pack, and he and Steve took hurried gulps of water and rifled through their external pockets for jerky, granola bars, and carrot sticks. As quickly as possible they shouldered their backpacks and continued, racing the weather.

As they hiked, Danny kept one eye on his footing, increasingly treacherous as they were buffeted by the strengthening winds, and one eye on the clouds as they climbed the updraft, gaining height and structure, building into a towering pillar and then fraying at the upper edges, feathery gray fingers creeping towards them across the roof of the sky.

They were just making their way down into the golden cinder field above the park boundary when they heard the first rolling boom of thunder.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, looking grim. Danny concurred.

The old ache in Danny’s knee was starting to make itself known; the endless downhill grind was hard on his joints. There was nothing to be done about it. The storm threatened to swallow them up, and turning back was not an option at this point. The only way out was down.

A couple more rumbles of thunder followed the first, distant but ominous, and Steve and Danny decided to take advantage of the good footing while they had it, breaking into as much of a slow, shuffling jog as their packs would allow. Danny’s knee liked that even less.

They moved quickly out of the cinder field and onto the rough four-by-four track through the ‘a‘ā flow at the park boundary. Steve hesitated at the point where the trail left the road and stretched down across the lava below them, its meandering path picked out by ahu.

“What is it, babe?”

Steve gusted out a sigh. “We’re close, couple miles, a little less. We’d be able to see the observatory if it was clear.” He jerked his chin in that direction; the slopes below them were obscured by fog. The ragged edges of the cloudbank swept past them to either side, wispy and windblown. “The fog’s what I’m worried about. Straight down is faster, but if we lose visibility it’s going to be hard to find the ahu. The road would be quite a bit longer, but there’d be no chance of losing it.” He clenched his jaw, looking unhappy and indecisive.

Danny chewed on his lip. “So it’s go down, maybe get out ahead of the storm, but if it catches us we could lose the trail, or go the long way, can’t get lost, but almost definitely the storm gets us, I got that right?” Steve nodded. Danny pursed his lips, thinking. “...I say we go down. If there’s a chance we can beat the storm, I think we gotta take it. We get stuck in that for any length of time I think we’re going to regret it.” As if to punctuate his words, another peal of thunder snarled at them out of the wall of clouds to the east.

Steve chewed over his words but came to a decision quickly, nodding with conviction. “Right, yes. I agree. Down we go, come on.”

They moved as quickly as they could, but the trail was steeper here, rockier, more uneven. They were tiring, and Danny’s knee was sore, and the cold wind continued, relentless; a grim air descended over them as they pushed on.

The clouds came up to meet them and they were enveloped in a cold fog. They had to stop to put on warmer layers, but the cloud was thin enough they could still make their way, the dark pillars of the ahu dimly visible through the pale gloom, like ghosts in the mist.

And then….

Thunder, closer and more frequent. The wind picked up even more, howling around them. It began to sleet, pelting their faces with icy sharp needles. They were forced to stop again to pull their down jackets on over their fleeces. Visibility diminished, and their progress was slowed as they carefully ventured a short distance away from each ahu, being careful not to lose sight of it as they squinted through the ice and fog, searching for the next one.

And then it began to snow.

The world whited out around them. Visibility shrank down to a distance of just a few meters, and the ahu disappeared entirely. Danny felt, for the first time, the sick stab of real fear. They’d made the wrong choice, he realized. They were fucked. He’d fucked them.

In the next moment Danny took a deep breath and forced the panic down. Steve would know what to do. Steve always knew what to do. He crowded close to Steve, shouting over the wind. “What now?”

“Right bottom side pocket!” Steve shouted back. “Couple of whistles in there!” He smacked the side of his pack and turned away so Danny could reach the pocket. Danny fumbled with the zipper—even with gloves on, his fingers were starting to feel a little numb at the tips—then fished around in the pocket until he found two bright orange whistles on lanyards.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” he shouted.

Steve turned back to him, taking one of the whistles and wrapping the lanyard around his wrist several times; Danny did the same with his. “We need to expand our search range so we can find the next ahu, but we need to do that without losing the trail or losing each other. That’s of utmost importance, we stay together, okay?”

Danny nodded. “No arguments there, babe!”

“Right, one of us stays at or within sight of the ahu, one of us looks for the next one. If possible we stay in visual contact, but absolutely under no circumstances do we lose audio contact. The whistles will keep us from losing our voices shouting. We’ll signal back and forth to keep in contact, one short whistle, marco, polo. Three long whistles is ‘come here,’ two medium whistles is ‘understood.’ Got it?”

Danny thought it over quickly; it seemed solid enough. “Sounds good!”

“I’ll go first!” Steve hesitated, then clasped Danny’s forearm, catching his eye and giving him a sharp nod. His face was mission-serious, the same look he wore when he was about to run into a building amidst a hail of bullets. Danny gave Steve’s arm a squeeze and nodded back, and then Steve was withdrawing, pushing away into the blank whiteness, aimed roughly downhill. After a few steps he glanced back over his shoulder and gave his whistle a short, sharp blow. Danny whistled back. Steve nodded again and turned away, and the blankness swallowed him up.

It was like Steve had vanished from the face of the earth. It was like the earth had vanished from the face of the earth; Danny had to look down at the rocks beneath his boots to avoid being swallowed by vertigo. He glanced quickly back to the ahu behind him, making sure it hadn’t vanished, then gave a sharp whistle. Steve whistled back; he was close by. Danny clenched his jaw. He was good, he was fine. He could do this.

Standing alone in the midst of the storm was like being in hell’s snowglobe. The winds buffeted Danny from multiple directions, flinging snow into his face to sting his skin and obscure his vision. Thunder cracked and boomed; it was getting louder, closer. Icy cold was starting to seep into his bones. But every time he whistled, a whistle came back, faint through the howl of the wind; a tether, a lifeline tying him to Steve.

He could track Steve’s changing position, his periodic contact calls zigzagging across the slope, then finally—three long whistles. Danny gave two back and pushed forward into the storm. He had to ping Steve a couple of times, and then finally, there he was, one of two dark shapes appearing out of the void; Steve and the ahu.

“Good to see you, buddy!” Danny shouted.

Steve gave him a sharp-edged grin as he stumbled closer. “Having fun yet?”

“Oh, yeah, this is great! ...Guess it’s my turn, huh?” He slapped Steve’s shoulder. “See you on the other side, babe!”

Danny aimed himself roughly downhill, zigging and zagging across the slope the way that Steve had in an attempt to maximize the search area. It was slow going across the uneven ground with the wind tossing him about and the the increasing amounts of snow sticking in the treads of his boots. Danny had to watch the ground as he walked or risk a tumble, so every few steps he paused and did a quick look around, hoping for the shadowy shape of an ahu. He could barely see through the snowflakes clumping on his eyelashes, and his eyes played tricks on him, showing him shadows that weren’t really there, desperate to find shape and pattern in the blank void. Just when he thought he had to have gone too far—he’d missed the ahu, he would need to turn back and start again—one appeared abruptly near him, off to one side. Danny felt a rush of dizzying relief as he blew the whistle three times. Steve signaled back, and shortly he appeared out of the blizzard.

“Nice work, Danno!” he shouted, clapping Danny on the shoulder as he went past, and then he was gone again, looking for the next marker.

Danny wasn’t sure how long this went on; it hadn’t occurred to him to look at his watch, even if he would’ve wanted to go digging beneath several layers of sleeves to find it. It felt like an eternity. He wasn’t sure which part was worse, stumbling blindly through storm, hoping at any second to stumble across the next little pile of stones; or waiting, still and alone, with nothing to do but pray Steve had some success and to be his anchor to find his way back. Sometimes they were lucky and found the ahu on the first foray out into the blinding snow; other times they had to backtrack and push out at a different angle two or three or more times. And constantly hanging over them was the knowledge that they were on borrowed time, that there was a limit to how long they’d be able to do this. It was physically and mentally exhausting work, and the longer it continued the more the cold worked its way through their clothes and into their bones, chilling their bodies, numbing their extremities, making their brains and their bodies work more and more sluggishly. They had to find shelter soon, or they would cease to be able to find it at all.

Danny found that it took more and more concentration for him to remember all the components of his job—walk and look, walk and look, whistle, change tack, walk and look. He responded to Steve’s whistles automatically, without really remembering what for. He tripped and fell forward onto his hands and knees, laboriously pushed himself up, and then immediately tripped again. He wasn’t sure, at first, if he’d be able to get up a second time. Christ he was tired. He looked up and saw… he wasn’t sure what, at first. The scale confused him. Pillars of stone, but much taller, towering overhead. Then he remembered—the cave. The lava cave shelter they’d passed early on the first morning. “Oh thank fuck,” he mumbled, and gave the three-whistle signal.

Steve appeared suddenly at Danny’s side. “Danny, hey… you okay?” Danny didn’t really remember any time passing, which was probably bad. Oh, and he was still on the ground. Whoops.

“‘M good, I fell. Look, cave.” He struggled back to his feet, Steve doing about fifty percent of the work.

“Cave?” Steve looked. “Cave! Shit, that’s good. C’mon.”

Steve and Danny leaned on each other as they scrambled the last few meters to the skylight into the cave. It took a little concentration to climb down the rough-hewn steps, but then Danny was stumbling past the windbreak of dry-stacked stone and all but collapsing on the dusty floor of the lava tube, heedless of his pack. They were good now, right? Danny could just. Go to sleep now. That sounded great.

“Danny, hey, stay with me. Let’s get your pack off.” Steve was shaking Danny, fumbling with the buckles on Danny’s pack. Steve’s pack was already off, when had that had time to happen? “Danny. Your pack.” Steve’s voice was sharper now, a little bit of that command tone. Danny flailed a little, trying to pull his arms from the straps; between the two of them, he succeeded. “Come on, as far back into the cave as we can get,” Steve ordered. The tube had a low roof, and several meters back pinched off into a dead end. Danny tried to crawl there, but found he was having trouble coordinating his limbs; Steve had to partially drag him.

Steve went back to the entrance to haul their packs over, then went back again for the stash of tarps and spare sleeping bag piled near the front of the cave. He thrust the sleeping bag at Danny, unzipping it for him. “Get in. Can you do it yourself or do I need to help you?”

Danny heaved his legs over to the sleeping bag and started pushing himself inside. “Doin’ it.”

Steve tore at Danny’s pack, removing his sleeping bag from its straps and pulling it from the stuff sack. Danny had managed to worm his way into the spare; Steve helped him get it zipped up then started bullying him into the second one. “C’mon lift your legs, this one too.” Between the two of them they wrestled Danny into two layers of bag, and Steve made sure Danny’s head was tucked into the hoods of his jacket and both mummy bags. Then he went back to rummaging through the packs, pulling out his own sleeping bag, the stove, fuel, and what remained of their food.

Danny was sleepy, so sleepy, he could just close his eyes and he’d be out, he wanted to so badly but… Steve. What the fuck was… Steve…. He frowned. “Babe. Why… get inna bag.”

“I will, in a sec.” Steve was propping their packs up against the walls and low ceiling of the cave, just beyond Danny’s feet, and fussing with the tarps.

“Fucking bag,” Danny insisted again. “You’re shivering.” And Steve was, he was shivering violently, hands jittering around enough to interfere with his work. His face was pale. Danny frowned more, struggling a little inside all of his layers. “I can help. Why am I, you’re shiver.” Danny had a vague notion he wasn’t making much sense.

“Yes I am, it’s very cold and I’m shivering,” Steve agreed, his teeth chattering. “And you are not, and that’s a bigger problem.”

Danny blinked. “Oh,” he said.

“Yep,” Steve said, and something about how he said it made Danny unhappy, his face was stoic but he was using his upset voice. “Stay put, Danno. I’ll get in my bag in a second but I gotta do this first.”

Steve draped the tarps over their packs and wedged the packs against the rocks, creating a makeshift wall, keeping out most of the furious, biting wind. He turned on a lantern and lit a couple candles before struggling most of the way into his own sleeping bag. Instead of lying down and zipping it up tight, he started unpacking the camp pots. “Babe,” Danny said. “What.” He struggled furiously to stay awake, although he wasn’t entirely sure why that was important.

“Hang on, Danno, I’m going to get us something hot to drink.” Fumbling with his still-shaking hands, Steve dumped half a Nalgene into a pot and painstakingly constructed and lit the camp stove, putting the water on to boil.

Danny lost time again. Steve was shaking him, patting his face. “Danno. Danno. Hey.” Steve was very close, and frowning.

“Annrism face,” Danny said.

“Yep,” Steve agreed. He unzipped Danny’s bags part of the way and helped him sit up, propping him against the cave wall. “Can you get an arm out? Just one.” Danny wiggled a gloved hand out of the bags and Steve put a steaming mug of cocoa into it, watching carefully to make sure Danny’s fingers closed around it before he let go. “Drink it.”

With great concentration Danny brought the mug of cocoa to his face and cautiously sipped. It was the perfect temperature, just hot enough to be searingly pleasurable going down without burning his mouth. He took a small gulp, and another, and another, unable to get enough of the heat and sugar and cream. In short order the cocoa was gone. “Mmff,” he commented, dropping the empty mug and pulling his arm back into the bags. It was cold out there.

Danny turned his attention back to Steve, who was clutching his own mug of cocoa in a shaking hand, sipping at it while he presided over another Nalgene’s worth of water heating up on the stove. He glanced over to Danny, concerned eyes tracking over him swiftly. “Hey, Danno, how’s it going?”

Danny blinked, thinking this over. “Cold,” he decided. “Tired.”

Steve gave him a wan, worried smile. “Yeah buddy, I know. I’m working on it. You’re doing great.” He drained the last of his cocoa and set his mug aside, peering into the steaming pot of water and peeling a glove off of one hand to carefully test the water temperature. He nodded to himself, pouring the hot water back into the Nalgene it came from and setting it aside, immediately dumping another Nalgene into the pot and putting it back on the stove before turning his attention to Danny once more. “Okay, Danno, let’s get you lying down again,” he said, easing Danny back down onto the cave floor. “I’m going to have to open up some of your layers, just for a sec, okay?” He didn’t wait for confirmation or permission, digging down through the open layers of the bags to unzip Danny’s down jacket and fleece. He snatched up the hot Nalgene and shoved it down in through all the open zippers; Danny gasped at the sudden heat. “Under your arm, Danny, in the armpit, hug it. There we go.” Steve zipped the jackets and the bags up tight again.

The heat was shocking but good, oh, so good. The bottle was hot enough to be a little uncomfortable, but insulated through two layers of shirts not hot enough to burn him. It instantly became much, much harder for Danny to keep his eyes open, and he gave in to the inevitable and zoned out a little.

Danny snapped awake again when Steve jostled him, unzipping all the layers, shoving another hot water bottle under his other armpit, and zipping him back up again. Danny groaned at the feeling of the heat sinking into him. He blinked hazily at Steve, who was still sitting in an only partially zipped-up sleeping bag, watching another pot of water heat up on the stove. Steve was still pale, still shivering—less violently than before, but even so there was a constant shuddering tremor running through him that was painful for Danny to watch. “Yoush’d get in here,” he suggested.

Steve glanced at him, flashing him a small smile. “Not a terrible idea, Danno. Give me a bit, just got one more bottle to heat up for you.”

Danny forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching Steve, listening to the howl and whistle of the wind and the occasional booms of thunder. Christ but they were lucky they made it to the cave. Who knew where they’d be, what would’ve happened to them if they hadn’t found it. If they were still out there, wandering around in the screaming blizzard…. Danny began to shake. Just a little at first, a slight tremor working its way through his body, then more and more until he was shivering violently, uncontrollably. “Shit!” he gasped, then had to keep his teeth clenched tightly closed or risk biting a chunk out of his tongue.

Steve scooted closer to Danny and put a hand on his shoulder, the sensation muffled through multiple thick layers but comforting nonetheless. "Hey buddy, ride it out, this is good, it's a good thing, I've been waiting for this. It means you're warming up, you're getting better."

Danny thought about replying, but didn't think he'd actually be able to get any words out, so he just nodded. Steve squeezed his shoulder and scooted back over to the stove. Danny tried to take Steve's advice and just ride through the shaking. It was uncomfortable, alarming, a little bit scary, but he clenched his jaw and hugged himself and breathed through it, trying to remind himself that this was just his body warming him up, saving him.

Steve pushed himself close with another Nalgene, giving Danny a tentative smile. "What do you think, there room for two in there?"

"D-d-dunno. W-w-w-willing t-to give it a t-t-t-try."

Steve smiled a little more. "Don't worry, I've got a plan." And of course he did, it's what he was best at, and Danny felt so relieved and grateful for Steve always being so... so Steve, that he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to keep the tears in.

With a little bit of rearranging, Steve (with some help from Danny, but not much—he could barely control his limbs) managed to get the feet of the three mummy bags nested, the bags zipped open so the layers could overlap—Steve in one, Danny in the other, the third underneath them to cut the chill from the ground, and their two down jackets open and draped over them as an extra layer on top. Danny now had a hot water bottle under each arm and one between his legs, his face nestled against Steve's neck and all of Steve wrapped around him, holding him close. He was still shaking uncontrollably, but he felt like his brain was starting to be a little more functional, and he felt immeasurably better to have Steve here, warming him, and to have Steve safe and out of the cold himself. Fuck the storm. They were going to be okay. They were going to be just fine.

They lay in silence for a bit, listening to the thunder—less and less of it, now—and the flapping of the tarps as the winds buffeted it. Danny tried to doze, but the ceaseless tremors of his body kept him awake. "S-s-sorry," he told Steve, "mus' be uncomf-f-f-fortable."

Steve was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. "I don't mind," he said quietly. "I'm just glad you're okay." He shifted his hold on Danny, pulling him closer. "...Besides, it's warmer in here."

Danny nodded. "It's g-g-good. Was worried ab-b-b-bout you."

Steve huffed out a breath, something that might have been a quiet laugh if there had been any mirth in it. "You were worried about me—of course you were. Shit, Danno, shit—I'm just glad your lips aren't blue anymore." Another huffed-out breath, this one a little shakier than the last one.

Danny blinked. "...W-w-w-were my lips actually b-blue?"

"Yes. They were."

"Oh. ...Sh-shit."

This time Steve did laugh, but it was still a decidedly unhappy sound. "Yeah, Danno, 'oh shit.'" Steve's arms tightened convulsively, squeezing Danny tight.

Danny swallowed. "H-h-hey. Babe. S'all right. W-we made it to the c-c-cave, we're w-warming up. We're okay."

"You weren't doing too well, Danno." Steve's voice was hoarse. "That one was a little too close. We have too many close calls, but this one—" He lapsed into silence.

"It w-wasn't your fault, Steve," Danny said, because of course, of course Steve would think it was.

"We should've stayed at the cabin when the weather turned, we shouldn't have tried to race the storm. Hell, the weather forecast was questionable to begin with, it was a stupid risk coming up here in the first place."

“Bullshit,” Danny declared emphatically. “It was a c-calculated risk. You t-take a lot of stupid risks with your life, I’m n-n-not going to pretend you don’t, but never when someone else is involved. The weather c-came on harder and faster than expected, right? You—we weighed the odds and made s-sensible decisions based on the information at hand. The decisions turned out to be w-w-wrong, but they weren’t reckless.”

Steve was silent for a long stretch. Danny let himself give in to exhaustion a little, relaxing into the feeling of warmth and safety, even dozing a bit as the violent shaking and shuddering died down—thank God—to a more gentle tremor. After a couple of minutes, however, Steve’s silence started to sound louder. Danny could just feel the unhappiness rolling off of him, as clearly as if it were a tangible, physical sensation. Danny poked Steve’s shoulder blade. “Babe?”

Steve shifted and exhaled slow. “I can’t lose you, Danny,” he admitted quietly. “I just—I just can’t.”

For a few long seconds that felt like minutes, Danny couldn’t breathe, forgot that he even needed to. Then breath punched out of him hard and sharp, and he curled his fingers into Steve’s fleece jacket and held on tight. “Christ, babe. I know the feeling.” He breathed in, breathed out, careful and slow, then shook Steve a little. “Hey. You’re not going to lose me. Sure as hell not today. I’m doing fine now, I’m fine, we’re both going to be fine. I’m right here. Okay? ...Steve. Okay?”

Steve breathed in deep like he’d also forgotten how. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

They fell silent again and this time Danny let it be, listening to the storm outside, listening to the soft, comforting sounds of Steve’s breathing. Occasionally Danny’s thoughts circled themselves around to oh shit, things got really bad for a while there, and Danny carefully steered them back to the knowledge that they were safe, Steve was safe, they were together, they were going to be fine. He dozed again.

Steve shifted and Danny startled awake. Oh. Oh, he’d actually fallen asleep for a bit. “Hey, Danny?”

“Mmuh-huh?” Danny blinked groggily.

“Seems like maybe the storm has passed. I’m going to go check what it’s like outside, okay?”

Now that Steve mentioned, Danny couldn’t hear the wind, or any thunder. The light that squeezed into their cave around Steve’s tarp barricade seemed a little brighter than before. “‘Kay.”

With some difficulty Steve struggled out of their downy cocoon, stealing his down jacket from the pile of warm things and unwedging one of their backpacks so he could crawl out. Thin, watery daylight flooded into the cave, bright enough that Danny squinted painfully against it. Danny burrowed deeper into the nest of sleeping bags, missing Steve’s presence, his warmth.

After a few seconds Danny squirmed and dug around in the layers, extracting the three water bottles, now lukewarm. He wondered how long they’d been here, squinting at his watch before realizing he had no idea what time it was when they’d gotten to the cave in the first place. It had been a few hours, anyway. He craned his head to look for the candle and found it had burned its way down to a stub.

There was a scuffling noise and Steve reappeared in the cave entrance, crawling over to Danny. Danny smiled.

“Hey, so it looks pretty good out there, the wind’s died down, the clouds have lifted.” Steve’s eyes tracked over him, dark and concerned. “How’re you feeling, Danno?”

Danny took stock. He felt pretty okay, actually felt warm again. He was fatigued, and sleepy, but otherwise his body and brain seemed to be working fine. He wiggled his fingers and toes; all digits accounted for. “I think I’m good.”

“Yeah?” Steve put a hand on Danny’s jaw, worming his fingers down into Danny’s neck for a few seconds, then rested his hand on Danny’s cheek and just kind of… left it there, gazing down at him, thumb gently brushing against Danny’s cheekbone. Danny gazed back. Yes, he thought. Yes, this. This.

Steve smiled. “You feel warm. You’re making your own body heat again, that’s a good thing. Think you’re up for the last bit of trail down to the observatory?”

Danny considered this. The thought of leaving this warm cocoon, going out into the cold wind and hauling a heavy pack another… what, a mile? Christ, but there was nothing else he’d rather do less. On the other hand…. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go, let’s get off this fuckin’ mountain, babe.”

Steve’s happy eye-crinkles came back, and oh, Danny had missed those. “Roger that, Danno. C’mon, let’s get moving. Bundle up and pack up.”

To Danny’s deep and endless regret, Steve’s hand withdrew, and Danny bullied himself into getting up and into his fleece jacket, stuffing sleeping bags into stuff sacks while Steve packed up the stove and folded up tarps. As quickly as possible, they were on the move again.

Danny’s legs felt like jelly as he climbed up and out of the cave entrance; he made a note to be really careful hiking down over this rough terrain. The last thing they needed was for him to take a spill and break something. After pushing himself up over the edge, he had to give himself a few moments to just stand and look and take it all in. The sky was overcast with cold gray clouds, but they’d lifted higher, exposing the slopes below them. The observatory remained obscured by some trick of the geography. The mountain itself had been transformed, all the low spots in the lava filled in with the purest driven snow, only the highest rocky points still exposed, stark black against the clean white. The effect was striking.

Steve came to stand at Danny’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” Danny said. “Is that weird? It feels kind of weird to me that I still think it’s beautiful, even though a few minutes ago it was trying to kill us.”

“No, it’s beautiful,” Steve agreed. “Lots of dangerous things are beautiful. I mean when you get right down to it, that’s kind of what beauty is, don’t you think?”

Danny stared at him, then pointedly looked around. “I’m sorry, have you seen my partner Steve? Ex-Navy SEAL, likes to blow shit up? I left him in a cave, now he seems to have been replaced by some mountain guru poet-philosopher.”

Steve slanted Danny a look that was the most delightfully complicated combination of annoyance, amusement, fondness, and something like intense relief or pure joy. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the trail. “C’mon, we should get moving while the weather’s good. No guarantee there won’t be another round of storming, and we should get out before it gets any darker anyway.”

Danny shivered at the very thought. “Agreed, babe, let’s go.”

The trail-marking ahu were actually easier to find; they’d each collected a fine dusting of windblown snow, but mostly stood out as jet black pillars against the whitewashed background. The snow itself was treacherous and difficult to navigate, soft, fluffy powder that each step sank into, and it was impossible to know ahead of time how deep their feet would go. As much as possible they avoided the snowy patches and stuck to bare, visible rock, but it slowed their progress down significantly.

Exertion made Danny sweaty and overly warm inside his down jacket, which felt like some kind of miracle, but he could feel by the exposed skin on his face that the air was getting colder. It was, as Steve had pointed out, pretty late in the afternoon, and though the sun was invisible behind the clouds, the light seemed to get ominously dimmer with each passing minute.

Still, as they dropped down the side of the mountain, the patches of snow became smaller, shallower, and then less and less frequent, and the observatory reappeared, tantalizingly close. When the trail bottomed on a short segment of chunked lava four-by-four road, a mere two hundred meters or so from their vehicle, Danny groaned with relief. Steve clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “We made it, buddy.”

“Don’t even, McGarrett, you’ll jinx it, we’ve got a couple hundred yards to go!” Danny complained half-heartedly. “Oh man, I can’t wait to get back to Hilo. I want a hot bath. And a soft bed. And food, lots of food. And beer.”

“We’ll get you all those things, Danny, I promise.” Steve fished in a side pocket of his pack until he pulled out his cell phone. “Whoops, looks like the Park Service called while we didn’t have signal. Also Kono and Chin. Probably wondering if we got caught in the blizzard.”

“Well, that’s nice, at least we know they would’ve sent someone up to find the bodies.” Steve didn’t laugh, or snort, or shove Danny; he just stayed grimly silent, his lips thinning. Danny winced. “Too soon?”

Steve sighed. “Gimme a sec, I’d better check in with the backcountry office, let them know we’re all right.”

While Steve was on the phone with the Park Service, Danny dug out his own phone. He had missed calls from Chin and Kono too, and Grace as well. He shot off a couple of texts to Chin and Kono, not really feeling like talking to anyone just yet. Well, Gracie. Of course he’d talk to his daughter. He allayed her fears quickly, told her that he was fine, and Uncle Steve was fine, told her he loved her and missed her and that he’d be back soon. He hung up just as they entered the parking lot. Damn it was good to hear her voice.

Steve was off the phone, too. “I texted Chin and Kono,” Danny told him. “Grace says hi.”

“We’re all checked in with the Park. ...Have you ever in your entire life been more deliriously happy to see a rental car?”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it, babe. Jeez, it feels like it’s getting colder by the second, let’s go.”

They dumped their gear unceremoniously into the back of the rental and piled in, turning on the engine and putting the heater on full blast, waiting the agonizing minutes for the air to heat up. “Thank fuck,” Danny groaned as he and Steve started to peel off some of their layers. He smacked Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon, I’m ready to get the hell off this mountain.”

Danny leaned tiredly against the car door as Steve began the slow, winding drive down the slope of the volcano in the gathering gloom. Headlights were visible on Saddle Road below them, a sign of civilization that was so close, yet so far. Danny was overcome with a feeling of relief; they’d made it, they’d actually made it, they were in their car with the heater on and they were headed down to sea level and everything would really be okay. He thought back to the grim slog through the whiteout blizzard in the biting cold wind and crashing thunder, to the dimly remembered sensation of his mind and body not quite operating at full capacity, making him clumsy and slow; to Steve, pale-faced and shaking, pushing through the betrayal of his own limbs to make shelter and heat water. Steve, anxious and afraid, sounding broken at the idea of losing Danny, the way Danny knew on a deep, instinctual level it would break him to lose Steve. Shit, when it came right down to it, even knowing what he knew now, Danny would climb the damn mountain all over again; it didn’t bear thinking what might’ve happened if Steve was up here alone.

Steve, who’d been grimly silent since they got into the car. Danny looked over at him; in the dim light he could see Steve’s jaw was clenched, the tendons in his neck standing out with tension, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road, his nostrils flaring as he breathed very, very carefully. Steve had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. An icy curl of anxiety unfurled in Danny’s stomach and he reached out to touch Steve’s arm. “Steve… Steve, hey….” Steve breathed in a shuddery breath and swallowed, his grip on the wheel only tightening, but he didn’t look at Danny or speak. “Babe, hey, c’mon… talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Steve abruptly hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road, having enough presence of mind to put the engine in park and engage the emergency brake before just kind of sitting there, looking a little bit lost. His hands were shaking. “Shit, babe, come here, hey….” Danny undid his seatbelt and leaned over, getting his hands on Steve’s arms, his shoulders, pulling him in and wrapping his arms around him. Steve folded, crumpled into him, burying his face in Danny’s shoulder and clinging to him for dear life. Danny was utterly bewildered and more than a little bit terrified; he’d never seen Steve come apart like this. If someone had literally reached into his chest and torn his heart out, it couldn’t possibly have hurt worse than this. “I’m here, hey, I’ve got you. Steve. I’ve got you.”

“You scared the shit out of me, Danno.” Steve’s voice was muffled in Danny’s shoulder. He sounded small, which was just… it was just wrong, is what it was. Danny’s heart broke a little more.

“I know, Steve, I’m sorry. It’s okay now. I’m okay. Shh.”

“It would’ve been my fault.”

Danny scowled. “Hey, none of that bullshit, we’ve been over this already. Steve. Steve, look at me.” He shoved and pushed at Steve until he lifted his head and met Danny’s eyes. “I’m here, babe,” Danny told him softly. “I’m here, I’m fine, the storm was not your fault… we made it through together, like we always do.” Danny curled a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, stroking soothingly with his fingers. “I’m here for you, babe. I’m always gonna be here. You can’t fuckin’ get rid of me, you hear me?”

Steve stared back at Danny, eyes dark and anguished. He was so close Danny could feel Steve’s breath on his face. “Promise,” Steve said. It was less a question than a demand.

“Swear to God,” Danny told him, and he’d never meant anything more seriously in his life.

“Good,” Steve breathed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Danny’s. “You’d better.” His hand was on Danny’s face again, his thumb resting against Danny’s cheekbone like it belonged there.

Shit. Oh, oh shit, Danny thought. “Steve,” he rasped, and there was too much emotion in that, he felt like he was reeling at the edge of a cliff, there was too much—

“Danny,” Steve said, and it sounded the same, there was a lot more there than just his name, and Danny lifted his head and put his other hand on Steve’s jaw and Steve was right there looking at him, looking into him and well, fuck.

Danny kissed him.

Steve kissed him back.

Holy shit, Steve was kissing him back. Danny made a surprised, slightly desperate little sound in the back of his throat, slid his hands around to cradle Steve’s face and leaned in, wanting more, and Steve met him halfway, went farther, wrapped his arms around Danny and pulled him closer. Danny pushed himself up out of his seat until he was halfway sprawled uncomfortably across the center console and he could not possibly give fewer fucks, he was kissing Steve and Steve was kissing him back.

The kisses were a little desperate, a little needy, a little breathless, and Danny never ever wanted them to stop, although did he mention a little breathless? They broke apart for a couple of seconds to get their air back, foreheads pressed together, and then Steve kissed his jaw, his cheek, his neck just below his ear—tenderly, reverent—and Danny groaned, had to kiss Steve again, because now he knew what Steve’s mouth tasted like, what his tongue felt like, and he was fucked because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to give it up again. “This is all I wanted, this whole trip,” he admitted, “all I wanted for months. Years, even—fuck, I don’t know.”

Steve nuzzled in close along the side of Danny’s jaw, seemingly reluctant to let there be any space between them, even for talking. “Christ, Danny, really? I thought—I thought, maybe—I’d hoped….”

“Hoped? Shit, Steve, I had no idea!” He lifted his head, finally, to stare at Steve, flabbergasted. “I thought—if I’d had any inkling, any idea at all—” He thought of all the time he’d spent trying hard not to want Steve, trying hard not to need him, not to—

Shit.

“Steve.” Steve was looking at him with the intense focus he reserved for people and things that were important to him, patient, content, relaxed and happy for the first time all day; Danny swallowed, anxiety burning cold in the pit of his stomach. “Steve, I gotta tell you something… probably this is the worst possible time, or, I dunno, maybe it’s actually the best, but I was going to tell you and it probably isn’t fair not to at this point—” Danny swallowed again, taking a deep breath to quash the urge for further rambling. “For the longest time, probably almost as long as I’ve known you, I’ve… well let’s say I’ve had a stupid fucking crush on you, I mean, I like you, I care about you, and I’m sure you’re aware you’re blisteringly attractive—stop grinning at me, Steven.” Steve was grinning at him. “Look, the point is, that’s been going on forever, but at some point—” Danny lost his courage, cutting his eyes away to the side; he couldn’t look. “Babe—I think I’m in love with you. Not sure when that happened, been a while, probably.”

Steve was quiet for a torturous few long seconds, and then— “Well, thank fuck,” he breathed, reaching up and turning Danny’s head to look at him. Steve was grinning even wider than before.

Danny gaped. “What?”

“Danny Williams, you idiot,” Steve told him, before pulling him in for another kiss—deeper, slower, and longer than the ones before. When the kiss ended, Steve kept him close, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his chin. “Danno… you have to know… you’re fucking everything to me, surely you know that. I don’t know when that happened either. You’re a pain in my ass and you never shut up and it’s gotten to the point where I frankly don’t know how I would live without you, and I just hope to God I never have to. I was going to tell you, too. But I…” He laughed. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Danny pulled back to look at Steve again. Maybe Danny was still hypothermic because he was pretty sure his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “What?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I love you too. Is what I was trying to say. I, Steve, also love you, D—”

“Did you actually just roll your eyes at me, asshole—?” Danny had a mind to register a more detailed complaint, but he found he was too busy laughing and kissing Steve at the same time, which was ridiculous, but Steve seemed to be on the same page so that was all right.

Danny was developing a pretty bad case of stubble-burn on his lips and he’d never been happier, Steve was a fucking amazing kisser and when they weren’t kissing he kept looking at Danny like he hung the fucking moon and also apparently they were mutually in love? “This has been… a very surprising day,” Danny admitted. “I mean… what? ...I’m kind of at a loss for words.”

Steve smirked. “That would be a first, ow no punching!” Steve grinned and swooped in for another quick kiss, which Danny supposed was okay. “...It’s good, though, right?”

Danny considered this. “Mostly.”

Steve’s expression faltered. “Mostly?”

“I mean I can’t feel my diaphragm anymore, but otherwise….”

Steve glanced down to where most of Danny’s weight rested on his abdomen against the car’s center console and barked a startled laugh. “Oh, shit, sorry! Here—” Steve fumbled for the seat adjustment lever, shoving his seat all the way back and tugging Danny towards him. Danny crawled ungracefully over the center console, bumping the horn with his ass and making them both startle and laugh. He ended up facing Steve, straddling Steve’s lap with his knees on the seat and Steve’s broad hands bracketing his hips. So just, oh, you know, a top contender for one of Danny’s all-time hottest wet dreams. He saw a little answering flare of desire in Steve’s eyes and oh, he could, he could just— Danny breathed out slow. They’d only just found out they were in love with each other after years of being friends, and oh, yeah, a couple of hours ago they’d nearly frozen to death—Danny’s fantasies could wait. They had time. Holy shit, they actually had time.

“You’re just staring at me and not kissing me, I don’t know if I like it,” Steve said. Danny huffed a laugh and leaned in to oblige, and Christ that felt good to be able to do. Still, there was a thought niggling at him that wouldn’t go away, like a loose tooth he couldn’t ignore, and he pulled back to stare quizzically at Steve again. Steve raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Danny frowned at him. “I’m a little confused, I just—I—how are you not straight?!” Steve laughed and Danny swatted at him. “Don’t laugh, serious question!”

“I’m just… I’m just not?” Steve tried. “The last several times I’ve dated it’s been women, that’s true, and I guess more often than not I tend to lean that way, but… there’ve been guys. It’s been a while. ...Anyway, your dating history is similar…?”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m bi. Like you said, mostly dated women, haven’t—haven’t had anything serious with a man. There’ve been—flings. My old precinct was pretty macho, it wasn’t exactly the best environment—I kinda learned to keep that side of myself private.”

Steve nodded, his thumbs stroking lightly against Danny’s sides. It was really distracting. “I thought sometimes, maybe… there were little hints, I suspected, but I wasn’t sure.” He huffed out a rueful laugh. “It’s stupid, how long have we known each other? You and me, and all of us really, you know there’s no one who knows us who would give a shit. And here we both are carrying around this big fucking secret, we could’ve just said something.”

“‘Hey team, we should all go to the Pride parade, by the way, I’m bi.’”

Steve laughed. “Or something. It’s been years. I feel like an idiot.”

“Make a note for future reference, communication is occasionally useful.”

Steve watched Danny for a few seconds, then tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Oh. Danny was still frowning at him. “I’m a detective,” he said.

Steve’s lips twitched. “You are,” he agreed.

“I notice things, is my point. I especially notice you… yes, stop grinning, shut up.” Danny leaned down to kiss him quickly, and wow, that was never going to get old. “My point is, I’ve been watching, don’t think I haven’t, I’ve been pretty invested in my stupid fucking crush for a long time, and I have literally never seen you look at another guy, never.”

Steve’s face did something… unusual, Danny wasn’t sure what kind of expression it was. A little bit soft, kind of sheepish. Steve chewed on his lip a little. “Danny… you’re probably right. You probably haven’t seen me looking at other guys. For a while now… I’ve really only been looking at you.”

Danny stared at him. “Shut the front door, McGarrett.”

Steve groaned. “I know, I know what it sounds like, like the cheesiest fucking line, but it’s true.” He leaned forward, pushing up into Danny’s space, his hands sliding from Danny’s hips to his ribcage. “I’ve been looking at you, Danno.” Danny’s ears buzzed and his skin felt hot. Steve was very, very close, and his eyes were doing that excruciatingly earnest thing they did sometimes. “I tend to get… pretty focused. When there’s something I want.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Danny complained faintly. “How do you always manage to be objectively cheesy and blisteringly hot at the same time?” Steve laughed, and Danny couldn’t help himself, he had to lean in and kiss the sound from Steve’s lips. He frowned down at him; Steve was always a puzzle he couldn’t one-hundred-percent figure out. “...Seriously?”


“Seriously, Danno. ...Come on, when’s the last time I’ve even dated?”

Danny thought about it. “It’s been months. ...Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

“Well then I guess we’ve come back around to why the hell didn’t either of us idiots fuckin’ say something,” Danny groaned. All the lost time….

“I’m saying it now,” Steve said, and holy shit, Steve’s hands were working their way up under Danny’s shirt and undershirt, brushing over skin and raising goosebumps on his lower back. “Danno,” Steve breathed, and kissed him. This one was searing hot, and Danny moaned into it, hissing as Steve nipped at his bottom lip and mouthed his way down Danny’s neck.

“You’re right, better late than never,” Danny gasped, and Steve nodded, tugging at Danny’s shirt collar to get better access to his collarbone. Then Steve ducked his head, hiding his face against Danny’s chest, and went completely still.

Danny brought a hand up to settle tentatively on the back of Steve’s head. “...Babe?”

Steve was tense again, all the happy looseness had evaporated. “Better late than never,” he said. “...Better late than… too late.”

“Shit.” And there went Danny’s heart, breaking again. He sighed, stroking his fingertips through Steve’s short hair. “Babe….”

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was pretty fucking awful, and it literally just happened. ...Hey, look at me.” He coaxed Steve’s head up. “We’re exhausted, we’re hungry, we’re still getting over being hypothermic, and we’re still in a rental car on the side of the road with the engine running in the middle of literal fucking nowhere, in what is now pitch darkness. Let’s get back to town, okay, and get some food, and maybe check in at a hospital or clinic or something, but frankly I’m thinking more like hot bath and bed ASAP, what do you think? Okay?”

Steve nodded. He looked exhausted; Danny could sympathize. “Yeah, Danno. Okay.”

“Hey.” Now it was Danny’s turn to cup Steve’s cheek and gently brush his cheekbone with a thumb. It was pretty nice this way around too, as it turned out. “It was shitty. We’re gonna need some time to recover. We could’ve died… could’ve, but we didn’t, we’re here and we’re fine… and as it turns out, I fucking love you, and you love me, so that’s pretty great, right?” Steve smiled weakly, and Danny smiled back. Fuck, how had he ever planned to live his life pretending he didn’t need this? “Everything else can wait. We have the time. We have all the time in the world.” Danny kissed him, sweet and slow, and Steve kissed him back… and that was good, that was enough, that was more than Danny had ever dared to dream of. “I love you,” he said.

Steve smiled, slow and small but real. “I know,” he said.

Danny snorted. “Dickheads who quote Star Wars at inappropriate times don’t get more kisses,” he said, leaning back. “How you doing, babe, you need me to drive?”

Steve took a breath and Danny could practically see his spine straighten as he internalized a new mission: drive the two of them safely back to Hilo. “No, I got it. Thanks Danno.”

Danny climbed back over the console into his seat, let Steve steal a final kiss for good luck, and held Steve McGarrett’s fucking hand, holy shit, while Steve drove them carefully down the winding strip of pavement. Danny found a radio station that he knew Steve would like, and smiled as he watched Steve sing along under his breath. Outside of the car it was dark, and it had started to rain, and there were parts of Danny that still felt chilled, all the way down to the core of him. But none of that mattered; he felt warmer with each passing minute, in a way that had very little to do with the heater blasting at full strength. He had Steve’s fingers entwined with his, the taste of Steve’s mouth still on his tongue, the sweet, almost disbelieving glances that Steve tossed him every few minutes from the driver’s seat. He had the firm, unshakeable knowledge that Steve would do just about any fucking thing for him, and that he would do the same.

He had Steve, and they had all the time in the world.

~ ~ ~

(Continue on to my Hawaiian Pronunciation Guide and Glossary, if you're into that sort of thing.)