Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve McGarrett hates Sentinels. Hates them with a burning passion.

He hates how they walk around with their shoulders back, like they’re more important than anyone else. He hates how they stride forward, expecting people to make way. He hates how their hands wrap so tightly around their Guides, as if chaining them and preventing their escape.

Their freedom.

He thinks its one of those things in life where you hate something with all your guts, like broccoli, or carrots, or mushrooms. He thinks he will hate Sentinels forever.

To a lot of kids their age, Danny Williams isn’t much to look at.

Danny moved from New Jersey to Hawaii in the third grade. He’s small so the other boys tend to pick on him. They make fun of his bright golden hair, calling him Goldilocks. They say he’s a girl in boy’s clothes, and they make kissy noises when he walks by them.

When Steve firsts sees him, he thinks he’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

When he tells his dad, all he does is smile and say, “Sometimes you have to look inside a person to find beauty, Steve.”

Steve nods like he understands but doesn’t get it at first. He isn’t sure Danny’s guts will look beautiful, because he’s pretty sure nobody’s guts can be, and then wonders if there’s something inside of his tummy that sparkles prettily. He wants to talk to him, to search his tummy to find that pretty thing but he thinks Danny wouldn’t take that very well.

He’s not wrong.

For the first time since Danny transferred to Kaimuki Elementary School a week ago, Steve walks up to where he’s sitting by the window in class and asks the question that’s been on his mind since last Thursday.

“Can I check your guts?”

All he gets in response to that is a mouth falling open, and arms flapping in the air. He’s very amused and wants to ask him to join him and his friends during lunch, when Danny just bolts out of class.

Steve is left staring after him in shock for a few seconds before a wave of rejection almost sweeps him off his feet. He collapses in Danny’s chair as he starts getting dizzy. He feels horrible, his tummy hurts and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

Its when Danny doesn’t come back to class even after it starts that Steve starts feeling a little angry. He doesn’t understand why Danny ran away after Steve was being nice to him. He was going to check his guts, then ask him to spend lunch with him, then they could become best friends, then he could have Danny all to himself everyday! 

Steve looks over at Danny’s desk at the opposite side of the room and wonders if Danny will come back to get his stuff. He grins as a plan forms in his head.

Danny won’t know what hit him.

“-and then he asks me, ‘can I check your guts?’, and I’m like, what?! Is that the Hawaiian way to say ‘does your face wanna meet my fist’? Huh? Kono? Huh?!”

“But Danny, Steve’s really nice! I’m sure that wasn’t what he meant!”

“Yeah? You think so? What do you think he meant then? He wants to check my innards?”

“… I dunno what innards are. Is that part of a chicken? Do you have a chicken, Danny?!”

“Uhh no, never mind. Class should be over by now. I left my stuff and now I have to go back, ugh. I hope Mrs Kalena didn’t call my mom! She’s gonna scream at me for sure… Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow Kono! Your cousin picking you up?”

“Yeah, Chin and his girlfriend, ewww. Bye Danny! And don’t worry about Steve, he’s a great guy, you’ll see!”

At eight years old, Danny is very brave. Things that usually scare kids his age, like the dark or the boogieman, don’t scare him at all. He knows that all the night-time animals come out and play in the dark so it can’t be all that scary, and that the boogieman can’t live under his bed simply because he can’t fit. 

Danny has a lot of Sentinel and Guide books.

So when he heads into the dark classroom to get his stuff, he’s ashamed to admit that he screams like a little girl when a hand comes out of nowhere from behind and lands on his shoulder. His arms slice through the air, trying to push himself away from whatever monster has got him, but when that fails and he turns around to push the monster away from him instead, he’s met with a wide grin and smiling green eyes. Danny can only stare a little because, what?! That isn’t what a classroom monster should look like!

“Hi Danny!”

“… 'Hi Danny,' he says. What is wrong with you? Do you want to give me a cardiac arrest?!”

Steve can only stare because he isn’t sure what ‘cardyaxe’ means but he definitely doesn’t want to arrest Danny, especially when he’s looking up at him with such lovely, wide bright blue eyes. So he tells him.

“I don’t want to arrest you Danny! And hey, how’d ya know my dad’s a police officer, Danny? Oh, and Danny, I don’t know what cardyaxe means. You sure are smart, aren’t you, Danny? You like big words, Danny? ”

This time Danny is the one blinking in shock because he didn’t realise how weird it was to hear your own name so often in one mouthful. He’s also a little flustered because Steve is standing so close to him and everything but the green eyes staring into his own is blurry. He doesn’t think about why he stutters a little before responding. 

“I do, I do like big words okay?!”

Danny winces. That wasn’t one of his more creative comebacks and he doesn’t want Steve to think he’s stupid now after showing an interest in Danny. He isn’t stupid and he wants to make sure Steve knows it, though he isn’t sure why. He thinks its because he wants to have more than one friend but somehow that doesn’t feel right. He manages to put that thought (and all the others running through his head) aside when Steve steps closer, looking nervous.

“Can I check your guts, Danny?”

Danny wonders if it’s possible for people to still live even though their hearts have stopped. That’s what he feels like and he thinks if he doesn’t drop dead soon, he’s going to be at least paralysed from the waist down.

When that doesn’t happen for at least 10 seconds of the intense staring session, Danny makes a decision. He doesn’t want to run away from Steve, because although the TV at home has told him saying stuff like that can only lead to a confrontation, Steve looks so earnest and nervous and hopeful that Danny thinks there’s no way he’s going to hurt him.

“Why?”

The wide smile that blooms across Steve’s face is awesome, Danny thinks, especially when it’s directed at him. He opens his mouth and looks geared up for a long explanation, so Danny sits down on his desk. Without prompting, Steve slides in next to him, putting his arm across Danny’s shoulder as he starts to babble away. 

Halfway through the story, Danny’s face is as ripe as a tomato because Steve has called him -and his eyes- beautiful (twice) but he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He thinks that despite the bad start, the both of them are going to be the best friends the world has ever seen. He doesn’t like to keep things inside so he tells Steve. Steve’s answering smile makes his eyes water with all the bright light shining into his eyes.

At least that’s what he’s told people.

Oh, and he’s also told Steve how its impossible to check someone’s innards without them dying. Danny thinks he gets the idea when a look of horror passes across his face. He’s sorely disappointed when Steve asks him why he’s asking him to kill his chicken. Danny can feel it already.

The start of a beautiful friendship.

Danny thinks Sentinel and Guides are way cool, and that he would want to be a part of that when he’s older. It doesn’t matter to him whether he becomes a Sentinel or a Guide but he’d like to think himself more on the Guide side of the partnership. He thinks Guides are just as cool even without all the awesome senses and that just from looking at his mom and dad, he thinks Guides have the real power in the relationship.

He tells Steve how amazing it is when his mom can smell what the neighbour cooked for dinner yesterday, or how sometimes when they go out, his dad has to hold his mom so she doesn’t hurt herself with the sensory overload, or that time when his mom went almost crazy when someone accidentally pushed his dad to the ground. He thinks he’d like to be a Guide, if he can help someone he loves like that. He smiles as he says it so Steve doesn’t know how to tell him he hates Sentinels. How he hates them so much.

How they took his mom away from their family when he was five and Mary just two, how all of a sudden she had just packed all her things and left without looking back, how his dad had cried every night for two weeks, and how he heard news of his mom and her Sentinel getting married a month later.

Steve doesn’t want Danny to hate him so he doesn’t say a word.

As Steve and Danny walk out to the front to wait for their parents, he wonders that if Danny can love Sentinels and Guides so much, he might learn to not hate them too much.

He fails. Horribly.

People have been telling Danny since middle school to prepare himself to be a Guide because he’s seen as having all the qualities of one. He was so excited when his father told him how having a compassionate nature was a sign, and that ‘with being a great Guide, comes great responsibility’.

(He didn’t get it then when he was eight, but now that he’s watched the movies, he doesn’t appreciate his father quoting Spider Man to him.)

If it’s true, he can’t wait to be tested because this is what he’s been wanting his whole life.

When he thinks about it, a lot of signs point to him being Guide.

The two friends he has wants to protect him so fiercely, Hammy the hamster loved him the most out of all his classmates in elementary school, and all the teachers tell him how adorable his face is. 

Guides were known not only for their empathetic nature, but how they had an innate ability to draw others into protecting them. Their size, face and mannerisms all bring out the ‘caregiver’ gene, especially in adults. One of the more popular Guide psychologists found that this instinctive nature of attachment had evolved through time and natural selection. According to the professor, Guides were highly coveted and valued for their ability to control their sentinels since the beginnings of mankind, and to ensure their continued survival into maturity, they possessed instincts that encouraged their Sentinel and other mature adults into protecting them.

Though Danny is looking forward to being a Guide and helping his future Sentinel, he isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s had a Napoleon complex since he started school. The other kids bully him because of his looks, but he is not a girl, damn it! Adults don’t take him seriously enough and are always trying to protect him, so he came up with the logic that if he learnt how to talk like adults when he was younger, he could get through to them. If all they saw was a cute face, what good would he do in the future if his Sentinel didn’t have the confidence in him protecting them? He wants to protect his Sentinel and he doesn’t want to be kept out of harms way if they were in trouble. He wants to stand by their side and do his duty to protect them too. He especially doesn’t want his Sentinel getting hurt while trying to protect him. He wants his future Sentinel to trust in his ability to stay alive.

So that’s why he was always explosive and loud when he was in elementary and middle school. Back then he thought it had been working, but it was when people started commenting on how adorable it was that he stopped trying. People never took him seriously and all he hopes is that when he finds his Sentinel, he would be the one person in the world who understood his need to protect other people. How he could be trusted to protect them too.

Steve has been the only person in his life to actually listen to what he’s saying. His parents just think all his opinions lack experience to back it up, and even Kono gets glassy-eyed when he starts to get really into something, like she’s visibly restraining herself from glomping him. With Steve, he gets this really concentrated look on his face like he’s trying to remember and memorise every word Danny’s saying and to him, that’s just so cute.

He doesn’t get why people don’t call Steve cute. At fifteen, Steve is remarkably still hanging out with him as usual. Danny thought he’d be going out on dates and getting girls by the dozen but instead, they’re as attached to the hip as when they were nine. To him, Steve’s always been sweet. 

Danny’s face flushes as he remembers Steve calling him beautiful in the third grade.

When Steve got his growth spurt in freshman year, somehow words that were used to describe Steve included: hot, sexy or even god-like.

Of course, Danny gets it. He has eyes, come on. He’s seen how girls and guys alike get all glass-eyed and drooling as he walks by them, or the multitude of phone numbers that have made their sneaky ninja way into Steve’s backpack. He gets it. He’s even been guilty of getting a little hard at the sight of Steve during football practice. Its probably got something to do with those abs, or that face, or the eyes. Oh god, those eyes, those heart palpitation-inducing eyes.

So Danny understands. Everyone notices Steve.

But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

It’s only when Steve is fifteen that he truly starts to believe he will hate Sentinels for the rest of his life.

In sophomore year, when the Guide Centre sends its team to his school on a Wednesday, it’s not a surprise when Danny’s tested positive at the Guide screening test.

What does surprise him is the next day it seems like word got around and the kids at school all start paying more attention to him and the two other Guides.

Especially the popular ones.

They smile at him, and what were once before painful pushes, now are gentle nudges. As the months go by, a few more Sentinels at school become active, and with that they start pursuing Danny. The first one to outright approach him was just a few weeks after the test, but Steve managed to scare them away with his fiercest ‘prey-on-someone-else’s-best-friend-you-motherfucker’ face. Which is great, because he does not want any Sentinel at school trying to make passes at him. It’s disgusting how just after activating, everyone has magically inhaled all the Guide pheromones in the air and started to act like they’ve always been nice and kind and decent to Danny. Which is not true. Danny hasn’t forgotten getting pushed against lockers just because of his small size and girly hair. He hasn’t forgotten the painful slaps his butt has gotten from the boys in the locker room just because they think he’s cute. He hasn’t forgotten the demeaning remarks as he waits at the bleachers for Steve. He’s a boy, and he’s been suffering with those kinds of statements for what seems like most of his life. He plays baseball and he’s incredible at it, but all they comment on is how appropriate his position as shortstop is, or how his butt looks amazing as he runs, or if he’d like said butt to get a pounding. 

The only consolation to everything was that there weren’t any comments when Steve was around.  Danny would like to at least have some dignity where Steve is concerned; he didn’t want Steve to hear anything and get embarrassed for hanging out with him. Steve is one of the best things that have ever happened to him, and if anything were to jeopardise that, he wouldn’t know what to do. He can only hope that now that he’s a certified Guide, his future Sentinel will be as important to him as Steve is.

He doesn’t question why his faceless Sentinel starts having dark hair and intense sea-green eyes.

Steve finds how Danny talks like an adult all the time so damn adorable. Especially with him being smaller than Steve (but then again, majority of people are smaller than Steve) and how he looks like he’s making up for it by using big gestures as he talks. But unlike the others, he sees the frustration in his best friend’s eyes. He knows Danny gets upset that no one takes him seriously, but Steve has always been the one exception to the rule and Danny seems to be happy about that fact. The truth is, lots of people do listen to him, but they just get distracted with all that is Danny. Steve doesn’t tell him that though, because he always wants Danny to see him as special and better than anyone else.

He remembers Danny being the same way when they were in third grade, and how even then, he knew Danny was the one for him. He doesn’t remember calling Danny beautiful, but his dad makes sure he never goes a day without bringing it up. He should be embarrassed, but he’s gotten used to it by now. Not to mention it’s nice to see Danny blush every time his dad brings it up in front of him.

It sucks now that everyone else has noticed how adorably handsome Danny is. He knows Danny longest; he has loved Danny since they were kids! What right do these kids have, touching him and being nice to him all of a sudden? Danny is his! No fucking Sentinel is going to take him away from Steve.

Danny is his.

He admits he’s started looking possessive and territorial whenever they walk down the halls together, and that he always lays a guiding hand along the nape of Danny’s neck whenever a known Sentinel is around. He leans and looms and nudges so Danny can call him out on it and push back. He wants everyone to see Danny comfortable enough to touch him. He wants to show them that as he’s been trying to claim Danny as his, Danny has claimed him in return.

Sentinels don’t seem to get the idea though. They keep approaching Danny at the bleachers while he’s busy making passes during football practice, or when he’s waiting for Steve in the mornings before class, or when he’s in the classes Steve isn’t. But fuck.

Stay away goddamnit!

Fucking Sentinels. He fucking hates them.

He can only be thankful he got a really large negative number when he had to go for his Guide screening test. The horror of actually being bound to a Sentinel gives him shivers. People have actually been telling him he looks like Sentinel material, and honestly, that still pisses him off because how can anyone see him as a Sentinel?! Those vile creatures. He sees that as an insult to his deeper sensibilities.

Perhaps in middle school there was a part of him expecting to have been an active Sentinel by now. He wouldn’t have been overjoyed with it, but he’d thought it would've been awesome if him and Danny could be bound forever. He’d thought of how his mother was taken from her family, and thinking of the same thing happening with Danny… Becoming a Sentinel provided the chance of that never happening and he’d been willing to take it. But alas, the likelihood of activating at 17 has diminished to an infinitesimal value.

Sentinels surface between ages 14 to 17, where hormonal imbalances were at their peak. Most Sentinels become active at 15, where genes and neurotransmitters start to trigger a cascade of chain reactions that lead to a series of changes in the body. Research has found that becoming active after the age of 17 is extremely rare and has had serious consequences on the psychological state of the Sentinel in question.

Because of that, the kids in the high school have mostly settled in their adult forms and any chance of a new Sentinel popping up is close to zero. Steve has profiled every single Sentinel and analysed their potential threat of binding to Danny, which could be seen as obsessive. But really, Steve is only making sure Danny stays happy and safe with him. Their birthdays passed a few months ago and going on to 18, Steve has absolutely no chance in becoming Danny’s Sentinel. He’s already made plans on how to avoid Sentinels once he and Danny leave high school and go on to college. It’s nothing definite yet but Steve has spent hours upon hours making sure the plan keeps Danny happy. He’s thought it through so much that his grades had started slipping awhile back but now that he’s gone over it a few more times, he has time to bring his grades back up in time for senior year.

In all honesty, Steve is exhausted from all this planning but he thinks it’d be worth it when he and Danny are happy together, with no Sentinel pulling him away from Steve. With all the effort he put into it, he really hopes it works or he’ll seriously start crying.

So it especially sucks when the universe decided for him to become active as the Prime Sentinel in senior year.

His two-year plan. Down the drain.

So he cries.

Chapter Text

Danny jumps out of his dad’s car and speed walks into school with his hair ruffled, plaid shirt buttoned wrongly, and his half-open bag flung over one shoulder.  The security guard at the front gate squints at him as Danny avoids eye contact and slides through the small gap in the gate just before it shuts. 

Staying up late on a school night to binge watch that gay firefighter show was a mistake, but he maintains that it was not his fault. People can’t just end episodes on cliffhangers and not expect students to be late for school because they couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing whether their favorite character survives a tsunami. 

There’s a bit of a commotion at the front when he walks up the steps, even though there shouldn’t be since he’s pretty sure he’d heard the first bell ring right as he was crossing the parking lot.  

He doesn’t need to be late on the first day back at school after new year's! That’s a senior year cliché that he will absolutely not be a part of. 

Scrunching his eyebrows together, he stands on his toes to try and look over the horde of students, but could see nothing but the back of their heads since everyone else was also standing on their toes trying to figure out what the commotion was about. 

Sighing, Danny whips out his shiny, brand-new phone he got from his mother for Christmas, and pulls up his texts to Steve, typing a message to ask him to inform their homeroom teacher that he was stuck just outside the front doors. He chews a little on his bottom lip as he scrolls through their texts over break; or rather, he scrolls through all of his unanswered texts.  

He hadn't received any responses to his texts or calls over Christmas break, which isn't exactly unusual for Steve since he was always leaving his phone all over the place and disappearing to do shit like “jumping off the cliff just as the sun was rising, Danny!” or “watching the baby sea turtles hatch and get to swim for the first time made me want to swim with them, so that’s what I did, Danny!”, but going two weeks without a response was worrisome, even for Steve. Danny couldn’t even go over to his place to check on him, since Danny and his family stayed with his grandparents in New Jersey over break. The lack of response is kind of freaking him out. Did Steve lose his phone? Is he even alive?  

Danny sends the text, and immediately follows up with another similar text to Kono, just to cover his bases. 

A percussive clang followed by the flock at the front of the crowd gasping and screeching in shock has his head swiveling towards the noise, because those sounds were usually accompanied by fists. 

Okay, that’s it.  

Danny forcefully pushes his way through the crowd, because fuck courtesy when a fight was happening, and why was no one was stopping it?  

Right at the edge of the crowd, he suddenly finds himself the unfortunate victim of a rebound, bouncing against someone’s arm, and is pushed right through the open door into the hallway. His shoes squeak against the old linoleum flooring as he staggers, and his arms whip out instinctively for balance. He sighs loudly as he regains his footing. 

He almost loses it again when he looks up, because lo and behold, there stands Steve McGarrett, in the flesh. Except this time, he has somehow in the last two weeks grown a few more inches and has biceps that are looking extra beefy?! And oh yes, did Danny forget to mention he has their homeroom teacher pushed up against the lockers and is growling like some kind of animal in the poor man’s face?  

Two Weeks Ago  

Activating as a Prime Sentinel is annoying.  

The constant and nagging headache he has not been able to get rid of since yesterday has left him with the taste of bile in his mouth. And the place behind his eyes hurt. And to avoid sounding like a whiny baby, he will not tell anyone other than himself about how the soles of his feet also hurt where they’re pressed against their wood floor ( were their floors always this rough? ), or how his fingernails kind of hurt where they’re pressed against his body. He will also keep to himself that his dick ached too, though maybe that can be blamed on the very nice dream he had of Danny last night. 

Steve sits on his living room sofa, his arms crossed and brows furrowed. His dad is sitting next to him with his back ramrod straight and a matching glower, one arm wrapped protectively around Steve’s shoulder. John McGarrett’s expression, however, is less annoyed and more furious. Father and son are not in the habit of being ungracious hosts, but both had implicitly agreed that the two government officials sitting in front of them in their most uncomfortable dining chairs did not deserve their usual warm welcome to their home. Steve has already forgotten their names.  

He gives them another once-over and smirks. Sweat had begun to bead along the brow of the brown-haired man. He’s in a suit jacket, long-sleeved white button-up shirt, crisp dress pants, and blue tie.  

Their unannounced visitors are obviously dressed for mainland weather, likely forgetting that Hawaii is considerably warmer and more humid than wherever they came from. He had wondered why his dad had turned off their ceiling fan as soon as their guests were reluctantly let into their house, thinking maybe his Dad had caught on to how the sounds of the blades whirring were starting to grate on his ears, but it’s making a lot more sense now. 

The man’s head is tilted down towards the notebook on his lap, but the pen in his hand remains still. He had not spoken since he had introduced himself, nor had he written anything down for a while since the conversation had come to a standstill.  

His colleague, an older blonde woman in a blazer, white shirt and blue pencil skirt, smiles at them, though it was starting to look a bit strained. Steve had to admire her tenacity to remain affable throughout their hour-long conversation. 

“As we have explained, Mr McGarrett, our systems have alerted the Department of Activation & Bonding about your son’s Activation as Prime Sentinel. It is our Department’s responsibility to ensure that our nation’s Sentinels are fully able to assimilate into society with their new abilities, and give them the best chance at success with their abilities. As you may be aware, Prime Sentinels especially are susceptible to sensory overload. Rest assured we are just here to-” 

John cuts her off. “You want him to train with a Guide and learn how to utilize and adapt to his Sentinel abilities. I do not deny the importance of your work. But I am also fully aware of what the government does with Prime Sentinels.” John huffs. “This house call is proof of that. Your Department doesn’t go to every newly activated Sentinel’s house to recruit them to your academy.” 

The blonde woman smile wobbles a little before settling. “We don’t-” 

John cuts her off again. “You don’t need to confirm or deny this, because I know this for a fact. I may not have been aware of any Prime Sentinels during my time, but I worked with your Department for over 15 years-” (Steve glances at his dad out of the corner of his eye; he had not known this.) “- and I’ve read the dossiers on Sentinels past. So do not lie about your plans for him.” John’s glare at the woman deepens. “As soon as he’s done with your fun little two-week Sentinel academy course, you’re going to whisk him away to some black-ops government facility, brainwash him with some spiel about the importance of using his abilities to ‘serve the nation’, and give him the illusion of choice on a Guide who’s among a list curated by the Department.” John removes his arm from around Steve’s shoulder and plants both hands on his knees, leaning forward. “You need my consent for him to go with you, and I do not give my consent.” 

The blonde woman bites her lip. Steve grins; this is the first time her smile has slipped since she had stepped into their house. Her colleague glances at her nervously. 

“Mr McGarrett, I understand your concerns as a parent. Let me reassure you again that-” 

“You have not given me any assurance that my son will return to me after the two week course is completed.” 

The woman pauses, before saying gently, “I can promise you that the Department will leave it up to your son to decide whether he would like to enroll in the specialized course after he completes the two-week general course.” Steve notes that this is her first time admitting that a specialized course even existed. 

John considers the woman carefully for a moment, before glancing over at Steve. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. His father should be fully aware of his opinion on this. They did have a very thorough and engaging argument discussion the night before about what Steve wanted after all. Steve got what he wanted out of the conversation, and his father’s only condition was that he not speak during the visit he predicted would happen today. His father sighs before turning back to the woman. 

“Tell me more about the level of care that the Department will provide to my son during the two-week course.” The woman smiles genuinely for the first time, and the man next to her slumps over a little in relief before starting to scribble in his notebook again.  

Steve feels a bubble of pity surface for the two officials who were obviously not at home celebrating Christmas together with their loved ones. He’s sure they didn’t expect to be in Hawaii a few days before Christmas, trying to convince an angsty dad to send his son to Sentinel school.  

John ignores the obvious reaction to his concession and continues, “The archives were not very informative on whether there was any differentiation for Prime Sentinels. I assume with their enhanced abilities they do need some sort of specialized care during the course.”  

The woman nods her head in agreement. “Steve will of course be placed with the best our Department has to offer. Our staff work around the clock during the course to support young Sentinels as they learn to adapt to their abilities, but for Steve, that care will be elevated to include the most experienced instructors, and-” she looks over at Steve apologetically, “- the course hours are a lot longer though, to accommodate the depth and bespoke mode of teaching.”  

She reaches into the open bag at her side and pulls out two folders containing a sheaf of papers, handing one over to John and the other to Steve. “If you look at page three, our normal course runs for about 6 hours a day, from 9am to 3pm.” She points at the schedule. “That is more than sufficient for a normal Sentinel to fully grasp control over their abilities. However, based on our research, Prime Sentinels require around double that; 12 hours of coaching a day to fully ensure they have control over their enhanced abilities.” She points at another schedule below the first one. “I’m sorry if you expected something a little more cutting-edge. But we’ve found that this works best for our Primes. They require far more than some cool tech. The Department has developed our course syllabus for Primes to center around experiential learning and time fidelity, extending our value proposition beyond what the latest and most cutting-edge technology can offer.”  

Steve can’t help but look a bit awed at that. No doubt he would get access to play with fancy tech during the course, but in his heart of hearts, he always regarded hard work and experience as the most significant contributors to success. He could do anything as long as he put in the work. And he hasn’t been proven wrong thus far, since Anton Hesse still couldn’t beat him for quarterback even with his daddy’s special sports tech. 

The woman smiles at Steve’s reaction. “Prime Sentinels are the very best of our nation, and we take our jobs very seriously to ensure that when they’re placed in our care, we take every measure possible to ensure they have all the tools they need to reach their full potential. As course coordinator, I take pride in this work.” 

Steve looks over at his father, but his father already knows what Steve was going to ask. “It sounds like you personally have first-hand experience with a Prime Sentinel, though I understand that’s highly unlikely given their rarity. I don’t believe I’ve heard of a Prime in my lifetime.”  

The woman smiles. “Yes, Prime Sentinels are exceedingly rare, and our estimates indicate approximately one Prime Activation every 90 years in the US. Saying that it’s a very small percentage of our population would be an understatement. However,” she pauses, then meets Steve’s eyes with a twinkle in her eye. “ However, you’re actually not the first Prime we’ve had this year, Steve.”  

She chuckles a little at his look of confusion. “We currently have two other Prime Sentinels in the US. Yes, this is unprecedented for us,” she adds with a small laugh at their shocked expressions. Looking over at Steve again, she adds, “should you agree to participate in the course, Steve, we would be glad to arrange for a meeting with them. One activated earlier this year, and the other just a few weeks ago.” 

Steve doesn’t really want to because they’re Sentinels and he hates them, but given his Activation yesterday, he supposes a mindset shift had become a real necessity. Yes, his two-year plan with Danny was no longer an option and had to be scrapped ( no, he didn’t cry about it Dad! ), but his Activation meant that the variables for his new plan were much easier to manage. All he had to do was be a good Sentinel, and bond with Danny. Simple. Right? 

He nods to himself, then looks up at the woman and nods again. Next to him, his dad sighs.  

“Alright... When does he start?” 

The brown-haired man’s scribbles immediately increase in pace, expression looking a bit excited. Steve grins.  

The woman smiles again, “As soon as possible.” 

John looks over at Steve, and he shrugs. His dad had agreed to Steve’s plan after all. John sighs tiredly and rubs his temples. 

“Fine. He can leave with you now.” 

Ignoring how both officials gape wide-eyed in disbelief at his Dad, Steve hops off the sofa, banging his knee on the coffee table in the process. He winces; the sudden overnight growth spurt yesterday will take some getting used to. With one hand busy rubbing the pain away on his knee, the other reaches down to pick up the packed duffel bag that had been resting on the floor by the sofa since last night. He hangs it over one shoulder and speaks to the two officials for the first time since they walked in. 

“I’m ready, let’s go.” 

He’s kind of enjoying the way both their heads swivel to him and how their jaws have slacked open in shock even further at the sight of his packed bag.  

His dad just sighs again and shakes his head at him in exasperation.  

Present  

“Steve! What are you doing you caveman, oh my fu -” 

Danny rushes forward to grab Steve’s arm, the one that was holding their teacher hostage against the lockers like some kind of animal, like fuck oh fu-  

Before he could even take two steps towards the pair, Steve had already dropped Mr Donovan to the floor abruptly and is looming in front of Danny in one step. Danny can't stop his momentum in time, and his forehead bumps into Steve’s chest. 

What is this- what even. Is this a person or is this a wall cause why-?  

His arms pinwheel up to the wall a.k.a Steve for balance and whoa, that extra set of muscles is definitely new. His hands remain on Steve’s abs for a second longer than necessary, before dropping down limply. His fingers tingle a little, like they miss the feeling of hard muscle beneath. His dick tingles a little in his pants too. 

Danny can’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed at his own body’s reaction, because when he looks up at Steve, Steve is still looming over him with his pupils blown and- 

Why is his nose flaring and twitching like he’s sniffing me?  

Steve bends down and stares straight into his eyes like he’s looking for something, and before he knows it, Steve is smirking and has hoisted him over one shoulder like he’s a duffel bag. 

Danny squawks. “What- Steve! Put me down right the fuck now you caveman, you neanderthal animal, you-” His breath is knocked out of him when Steve starts moving and it kind of hurts, but also Danny can feel the warmth radiating from Steve’s shoulder beneath his stomach. And that’s- 

Danny’s thoughts cut off as he feels Steve grip the back of his thighs to hold him in place as they move forward.  Danny’s stomach bounces against Steve’s shoulder with each step, and ow but also those large hands are definitely too high up! Danny gasps as one had slides into the curve of his inner thigh. 

Before he even has the chance to open his mouth to complain, Steve is shoving their classroom door open and those large hands leave his body as he’s unceremoniously dropped into his seat with an oof. He gapes up at Steve for a second, before his arms start flailing indignantly at being manhandled in front of the whole school. 

“You...!” Danny points an accusing finger at Steve. It’s trembling. “I have words right now. For you.” He can still feel the phantom of Steve’s large, firm hands curling around his thigh. 

Steve just grins and leans back in his own chair, hands fiddling with something in his varsity jacket pocket. 

“Well, I’m waiting. Give me those words.” 

Danny’s mouth open and closes like a fish out of water.  

“You! With Mr Donovan! And I was! That was! You maniac!” 

Steve puts his head in his hand, elbow now resting on the table. He’s still grinning at Danny like he’s won something. “What?” His sea-green eyes were all sparkly. 

“Stop that! Whatever you’re doing, stop doing it right now!” Danny’s pointing finger flicks between Steve’s eyes. 

Steve follows the finger with his eyes as he laughs, “But I’m not doing anything right now, Danny!” 

He hears a cough next to him and Danny’s hackles raise. He grits his teeth, because he’s suddenly aware of the twenty-four pairs of eyes belonging to his classmates staring at both of them. Kono is among those eyes, but hers are watery as she’s trying to muffle her laughter, both hands over her mouth. Her shoulders are visibly shaking with the effort. When she meets his eyes, she points behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots a few fellow students right by the doors of the classroom, peering and pointing at Steve, murmuring to their friends. 

He tsks and leans over to Steve, squinting at him angrily. “We will talk about this later,” he hisses quietly. “Who do you think you are, lifting me like I’m a bag of potatoes? You ass. We will have words. Don’t think you can run away.” 

Steve leans over to Danny too, their faces now inches apart.  

Danny’s breath catches as Steve reaches out to smooth out Danny's morning bedhead that he had forgotten he had. Steve’s voice is barely over a low rumble, but the sound reverberates through his chest and out into the air between them. 

“I never will.” 

Danny swallows when Steve smiles at him again and starts fixing the buttons on Danny's shirt. He had forgotten about that too. He stares for a while as Steve’s long fingers work on them one by one, then shakes himself out of the trance and slaps Steve’s hands away from his shirt. 

“I can do it myself! Oaf,” he mutters. 

Steve mumbles something under his breath that Danny can’t make out. He ignores the huff of laughter from Steve and turns toward the front of the classroom, hands feeling clumsy as they scramble to continue where Steve left off. 

Just as he finishes with the last button, Mr Donovan walks in, and he sees from the corner of his eye how Steve’s posture straightens and he leans forward with a low growl. Danny frowns at him in confusion. 

As a Sentinel, Mr Donovan must have heard it too because he jumps a little and avoids looking at Steve even while addressing him.  

“McGarrett, to the principal’s office.” 

Steve’s chair screeching back abruptly as he stands up has Mr Donovan scampering quickly behind his desk. Their teacher clears his throat when everyone looks at him strangely. He straightens back up and crosses his arms as Steve walks to the doors. 

Danny blinks. Why is Mr Donovan (a Sentinel) acting like he’s spooked by Steve (a high school senior)? For that matter, why couldn't he fight Steve off in the hallway? And actually, why did Steve have him up against the lockers in the first place! 

Steve pauses at the front of the classroom and waves at Danny happily. Danny scowls and rolls his eyes back. The expression he receives in return is ridiculously petulant. And cute. Why is his heart stuttering?  

Steve flicks a look to Mr Donovan just as their teacher opens his mouth to likely hurry him along, and he ends up choking on his words. Steve grins triumphantly as he leaves their classroom. 

Danny sighs tiredly. He is so done with today. 

Steve sits outside the principal’s office waiting for his father to arrive, because apparently, John had been called in for Steve’s minor behavioral issue with his teacher. It’s not like the guy didn’t deserve it, Steve thinks darkly. He clenches his fists in his jacket pockets. 

He looks up as the sound of his father’s heavy steps reach him. It takes a full minute of waiting, hearing those steps get louder as they approach, before John's familiar large frame is squeezing through the small glass doors of the reception office.  

John takes one look at his son’s stubborn, unrepentant face and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks over to the reception desk and announces to the portly old man sitting behind that he is Steve’s long-suffering father. The man looks at him in bewilderment before nodding and pressing a button on the landline phone sitting on his desk. 

A few moments later, principal of Kaimuki High School, Mrs Amy Hanamoa, steps out of a door to the left of the reception desk and greets both father and son with a warm smile, before ushering them into her office. 

She gestures towards a set of sofas in the corner of the room, and sits facing the pair. 

“Thank you, Mr McGarrett, for taking the time to come here on such short notice.” 

“Well, given that it’s still the morning, the school day has just started, and yet we are all here today because of my son...” John slides a look to Steve, who continues to look unrepentant. “What could possibly have happened so early in the day, Steve? ” 

Mrs Hanamoa sends Steve a worrying look. “Yes, I wanted to discuss this incident together with your father, Steve. Do you want to tell him what happened or should I?” 

“You can do it, ma’am,” Steve says respectfully. “I’ll explain after.” 

She nods and looks at her father. “Before the first bell rang this morning, Steve got into a confrontation with his homeroom teacher, Mr Donovan, in the hallway. A few students took videos of the incident, and a faculty member reported it to me just before my staff reached out to you. I understand that some strong words were exchanged, and Mr Donovan told me that you pushed him up against the wall and choked him.” 

John looks at Steve in disbelief.  

“It was against the lockers, not the wall, ma’am,” Steve corrected.  

“Steve!” both adults chorused in shock. 

“And I didn’t choke him. I just grabbed the front of his shirt.” 

John frowned at his son. “Son, this is very serious.” 

Steve frowned back at his father. “I know, but I did it because he deserved it!” 

“Nothing he could have said should warrant behavior like that!” 

“You don’t even know what he said!” 

“It doesn’t matter! I taught you better than to resort to violence before-” 

Mrs Hanamoa interrupts before the argument escalated. “Mr McGarrett, this is the first time Steve has been involved in an incident like this, and I want to believe that the student who has stood up to bullies for the last four years would not behave like this without a reason.” She looks at Steve pointedly.  

John grunts and acquiesces to her point. He turns to look at his son, and his son is staring back at him with a frown. 

John sighs again. “Alright, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out. Please tell us what happened.” 

Steve nods, before turning to the principal. “While on the phone with his friend, Mr Donovan made some... improper remarks about Danny and his body,” Steve’s expression goes dark, “And what he would like to do to him.” 

John and Mrs Hanamoa share a look of shock. 

“Steve, that is a very serious accusation.” Mrs Hanamoa bites her lip. “If you have proof, it would help me investigate this further.” 

“Thought you’d never ask, ma’am. Here,” Steve reaches into his jacket pocket to bring out a small audio recording device. 

John looks at his son weirdly. “Why do you have that?” 

“A friend gave it to me over break.” 

Ah. Must be one of the new Prime Sentinel friends Steve made over break. But why gift his son an audio recorder? It’s a weird gift for a teenager.  

John gives Steve a once-over and hums. Which was weirder, gifting someone an audio recorder, or someone bringing an audio recorder to school to record their teacher? John would rather not answer that question.  

John turns to Steve as he hits play on the recorder. 

There’re some muffled noises, like Steve was maneuvering the device to a more optimal position, before it picks up the sound of a man’s voice. John assumes this was Mr Donovan. 

“You don’t get it, Victor. I’ll send you a pic later. I’ve got a few.”  

A pause, then a laugh. “Yeah, of course I’ve got one where he’s bent over. Happened right before break started too, so it featured a lot in the last two weeks, if you know what I mean... Yeah, you get it.” Donovan groans.  “Damn, just thinking about it is getting me hard. He was at the front of the class solving a problem and halfway through he dropped the whiteboard maker. You wouldn’t believe my luck. I’m just grateful I started recording before I called him up to the board... Yeah... When he bent over to pick it up his ass was facing right in my direction. The way his pants stretched over that ass, I swear he did that on purpose... Yes, that’s what I thought too. He wants my dick so bad.”  

Steve looks up at his Dad and principal. They both look a little sick. 

“He’s just my type. Short, blonde, and feisty.” Donovan laughs again. “As soon as I get the opportunity today, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ rub against his ass... Nah, I’ll figure it out. Make him think it was an accident. When he’s lying in his bed at night, I’ll make him think about the feeling of my hard cock poking him through our clothes, right against his ho-”  

There’s the sound of a door banging open and a shout of surprise before the recording ends. 

Both adults keep looking at the innocuous audio recorder for a moment before John clears his throat and puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He turns to Mrs Hanamoa, who’s still looking a little green in the face. 

“I suppose this is sufficient proof for you?” 

It takes a while for her to respond. She clears her throat. “Yes. This is more than enough.” She reaches into her bag to pull out her phone, pressing three numbers into the keypad. Before she hits dial, she looks up at Steve.  

“Thank you, Steve, for bringing this to my attention.” Despite her words, she looks dismayed. “I apologize for you having to be the one to go through this. We may not be able to prove he was speaking about Danny specifically, but this definitely points to him speaking about a student. Thank you.” 

Steve nods with a small smile, though he looks pale and troubled after having to relive the sick statements his teacher made about his best friend. John presses his lips together and gives Steve a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. 

Steve jolts upright as if remembering something, before reaching into his other pocket, pulling out a phone.  

John frowns. Steve’s phone was a lot more banged up than this. 

Steve hands it over to the principal. “I didn't manage to record his full conversation because I was still too far away when he started speaking to his friend.” Mrs Hanamoa tilts her head at Steve in confusion. “Just in case, I took his phone too. I was afraid he’d delete the pictures if he suspected I heard him. I don’t think he realized I did, though, since he’s searching his bag right now looking for it.” 

Mrs Hanamoa turns to look at John with a question already on her lips. 

John grins ruefully. “I guess I should have mentioned earlier; Steve Activated as Prime Sentinel two weeks ago.” 

Mrs Hanamoa’s jaw drops. Steve grins and leans back into his seat. 

As Steve walks John out of school, John notices that his son hasn’t said a word since they had left Mrs Hanamoa’s office.  

John turns towards him as they step outside the building. His quiet, gentle, 6' 3" son, is just standing there looking sheepishly at his father. 

John laughed. “Steve… come here,” he pulls Steve into a hug. 

Steve whines into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” He pulls back to look at his son. 

“That you had to leave work to come here.”  

“Oh, so you’re not sorry about fighting your teacher?” 

“Of course not!” Steve is indignant. “And he’s not my teacher anymore,” he adds with a smirk, as they spot a police car stop at the school gates. They watch as a security guard trips out of the chair he was sleeping in and scrambles to open the gate for the officer stepping out of his vehicle. 

John ruffles Steve’s hair and nudges his shoulder, “You’re a good friend, son.” Steve smiles at the compliment. “You’re sure you don’t need me to stay with you for when you talk to the cops? I can call in and take a day off.” 

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” 

“Alright. I’ll be back late today; new human trafficking case came in this morning. Don't forget to stop by the post office to pick up your package from the Department before you head home,”  

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“And don’t skip dinner!” he adds to his son’s retreating back. 

Steve waves him away over his shoulder and heads back in. 

Danny sees Steve walk into the cafeteria with an annoying swagger, a few minutes after the lunch bell rings. Danny kind of wants to punch him in the face. But he knows now that Steve was definitely involved in Mr Donovan being taken away from their classroom mid-lesson by a police officer during first period.  

Danny watches as Steve scans the lunch crowd, and spots Danny glaring at him from across the room almost immediately. His swagger somehow gets even more annoying as he ambles over to where Danny’s sat alone at a small round table right by the windows. 

He sits in the seat next to Danny, back facing the light streaming through the windows. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans back, and waits. 

They do this every time they’re in a disagreement; maintaining eye contact without wavering, waiting for the other to break first. Danny’s face is getting progressively more purple, but he refuses to glance away or get distracted with his unfinished chocolate cake. He clenches the fork still in his hand. Patience and restraint, he repeats in his head. 

Steve remains nonchalant, body loose and comfortable. He can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  

Any time now...  

“I can’t believe you!” Danny bursts out. He slumps forward dramatically right after, groaning into his bent elbow resting on the table. 

Steve can only laugh. Danny’s never won, but it’s cute that he keeps trying. 

Danny lifts his head up from his arm and glares at Steve balefully.  

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Aren’t you going to tell me what was up with all that this morning? Where’ve you been?” 

“I thought you knew I was called into the principal’s office, Danny.” 

“Don’t act smart with me, okay? You choked out Mr Donovan this morning in front of the whole school-” 

“I just grabbed the front of his shirt-” 

“-then the next thing I know, a real police officer walks into our classroom, puts him in cuffs while he’s explaining the trigonometric ratio, which by way is the one thing I still don’t get so why did they have to take him away literally just as I was beginning to understand this shit-” 

“Wow.” 

“-and he’s dragged away like he knew exactly what he was getting arrested for! And you were gone the whole day-” 

“It’s just lunch right now-” 

“-so excuse me if it doesn’t make sense to you that I was sitting there in class wondering where you were, why didn’t you reply to my texts over break when I can see your phone right there sticking out of your pocket, you asshole! And you put on like a million more pounds in muscle, how did you get even taller, jeez, and yeah I packed your shit up-” Danny throws Steve’s bag at him, which Steve annoyingly catches one-handedly, “-and I got you a salad just in case you were going to miss lunch too.” He pushes a box of salad over to Steve. 

“I knew that wasn’t for you!” 

Danny holds his fork in front of Steve. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m pretending you’re in jail. It brings me peace.” 

Steve smiles at him brightly. “Thanks for the salad, Danny. I love you.” 

Danny grumbles, ears feeling hot. “Yeah, yeah, love you too.” 

Danny watches as Steve carefully opens the plastic box, peeling off the plastic fork taped to the top. “You’re doing that thing again,” Danny says, pointing at Steve’s face. 

“Doing what?” 

“Where the two little pieces of seaweed you call eyebrows kiss each other. Some people might mistakenly call it frowning, but we know better, don’t we?” 

“Okay, that was rude.” 

Danny huffs. “Fine, I’m sorry. I’m still mad at you.” He pauses. “But you know what? Actually, let’s talk about it, because you were very rude to me today.” 

“In what way!” Steve throws his hands up into the air, like he’s begging the universe for supplication. Why is he doing that, when it’s Danny who should be begging the universe for one iota of dignity today given his very terrible experience this morning! 

“Uhh, did you forget how you threw me over your shoulder like some sort of Tarzan? Does that ring a bell? I was in a very good mood this morning before-” 

“You were not!” 

“I was too! I was happy!” 

“You’re never happy!” 

“I’m happy when I’m not around you!” 

“That’s a lie too, you love me,” Steve grins cheekily. 

Danny grumbles, a soft heat in his cheeks, "That's beside the point. My point was that you were very rude. And I deserve an explanation.” He crosses his arms and gives Steve a pointed glare. Steve pouts in response. “Pouting won’t help!” 

Steve grunts. 

“This isn’t animal planet, start speaking words. Human words!” 

Steve stares down at his salad. Danny feels the mood shift as he realizes Steve really doesn’t want to talk. 

Danny sighs. “And now you’ve gone non-verbal.” He leans forward and grabs Steve’s elbow. “Listen, I know you’re not naturally in-tune with what others are feeling, and you have difficulty expressing emotions, and-” 

“Will you get to the point please.” 

“-and have difficulty accepting criticism. But I know you’ve always done what you think is right. All I’m asking is why. And for you to understand that I didn’t feel comfortable with you carrying me like I’m some kind of kidnapped princess-” 

“If the shoe fits,” Steve mutters under his breath. 

“- and I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that.” Danny glares at him. “Now, will you please tell me what’s been up with you? Or do I have to go look up Mr Donovan’s address and get the story directly from the criminal horse’s mouth, if he’s not in jail already cause you put him there, oh my god-” 

Steve stands up from his chair so violently it goes careening into the floor with a loud crash, the sound echoing in the cafeteria. The chatter around them pauses as everyone’s eyes fix on Steve.  

Danny heart is nearly beating out of his chest, because that was loud, and Steve is glaring at him with his nostrils flaring like he’s furious. Danny feels like he can see this vibrant red aura around him, like he wants to kill something. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Steve roars, and Danny’s ears start ringing before he blacks out.

Chapter Text

Danny hears the beeping first. 

His eyelids flutter, the bright fluorescent lights stabbing through the fog in his mind. He tries to focus, but everything feels heavy and muffled, as if he’s submerged in water. Each attempt seems to pull him out further from the darkness though, as the weight of his eyelids gradually lift. The sterile scent of antiseptic shoots up his nose, mingling with the subtle tang of metal. 

He's blinded as soon as his eyelids crack open. The white fluorescent is jarring and he squints against it, mind sluggish as he claws at the remnants of sleep. He shifts, trying to sit up, but realizes that his left hand has been held hostage. He turns, and it’s Steve. 

Danny blinks for a moment before warmth spreads through his chest, feeling grounded despite his disorientation.  

Steve is sleeping. He takes in the sight of him; brows furrowed, hair tousled, and shoulders relaxed in slumber. It’s such a familiar sight that Danny feels himself calm, despite not knowing what got him admitted to the fucking hospital.  

Steve is sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair with his elbows on the bed, both hands firm and gentle around Danny’s. With Danny’s hand brought up to his face, it almost looks like he was praying, except their fingers are intertwined and Steve’s open mouth is drooling a little on Danny’s fingers.

Does this count as holding hands?  

“Steve?” Danny croaks, and wow, his throat is dry. He tries to extract his hand from Steve’s grasp to reach for the jug of water he spots sitting at his bedside, but a wave of dizziness sweeps over him and he flops back onto the bed with a whine. 

“Hey, easy,” Steve’s voice is thick with sleep. “Just stay still for a second, Danny.” Danny turns to Steve and is sorry to see the way his shoulders are now tense with worry. His sleepy eyes flicker between Danny’s prone form and the jug sitting on the opposite side of the bed, like he’s trying to decide whether to keep holding on to Danny, or let go and help him get water. “Thank fuck you're finally up," Steve breathes out, heaving a deep sigh of relief. "Was starting to get worried." 

“I – what happened?” It’s like trying to sift through fog, but pieces begin to fall in place – he was at the cafeteria. And he got Steve a salad. Did they talk about Steve’s radio silence over break? No. But there was something about Mr Donovan... and Danny can’t recall the rest. He remembers an overwhelming emotion, the way it had threatened to consume him, but he can't recall what triggered it. 

“You fainted,” Steve says softly, his breath ghosting across Danny’s knuckles breaking Danny out of his daze. “But you’re here now. You’re okay.” For some reason, he looks ashamed. 

“Ok, first of all, please don’t say ‘fainted’ like I’m some sort of Bridgerton damsel,” Danny complains. “I did not faint. I merely closed my eyes and chose to unconscious-myself for a split second. The term ‘passed out’ may be used, if you are so inclined.” 

Steve huffs but there’s a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth now, and the shimmer around him turns from the red of guilt to the gold of happiness, which is exactly what Danny was going for. 

“And what do you mean I’m ‘okay’?” Danny continues. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Steve’s hands enveloping his helps to soften the edges of anxiety gnawing at him. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.” 

“Umm,” Steve is shifting his eyes guiltily again. “But you’re recovering. You’ll be okay, eventually.” 

Danny shifts, wincing as pain lances through his temples. “I don’t remember much.” 

“Oh,” Steve says, his tone lightening. “You don’t remember? That’s alright, you don’t have to.” 

Okay, that’s totally not suspicious.

Danny squints his eyes at Steve. Steve’s smile is infectious though, and despite the pain and confusion, a smile dances across Danny’s lips too – Steve is his confidant, the person who he’s shared laughter and late-night secrets with for so many years. If Steve doesn’t want to tell him what happened, then...  

Danny pauses.

Actually, no.  

Steve is the person he trusts most, yes. But that’s because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Danny has always been the one person Steve could go to, when he felt like he couldn’t go to anyone else. What did it mean that Steve was keeping secrets from him now?  

And Danny is starting to recognise that this nonsense-version of Steve started from two weeks ago, when Steve stopped replying to his texts and calls. 

He eyes Steve carefully; Steve was a stubborn guy. Pestering him never worked, because once the guy made a decision, he almost never changed his mind unless it was his own choice to do so.  

But Danny is nothing if not tenacious, so he would just have to go with his tried and tested, thus far most successful technique on Steve.  

“Was I… you know, out for a long time?” Danny asks, making his tone sound extra sad and mopey. Steve’s expression falters momentarily. 

“Just a few hours,” he replies, but there’s something in his eyes that hints at unspoken worries, dark shadows lurking in the corners. “I’ve been here the whole time. Your mom and dad should both be here soon too. The school must’ve told them you were brought over here cause your dad called me. Sorry, I forgot to call them first.”  

Danny nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.” Danny makes sure Steve has an unobstructed view of him worrying at his lip. “But what happened?” 

“It-it was my fault,” Steve is starting to look even more ashamed than before. “I didn’t know that would happen.” 

Danny breaks character, not able to hide his raised eyebrows. “Me faint- passing out is your fault?” 

Steve gulps, feeling the warmth of Danny’s hand against his. He looks like he’s fighting the urge to pull away, to create distance even as he craves proximity. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice a whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“What are you even saying, you goof,” Danny protests, his thumb tracing soft circles over the back of Steve’s hand. And yeah, this is definitely considered holding hands. “Whatever happened, I know it wasn’t because you scared me. In fact, get over yourself! You’re not even scary; and more importantly, I’m not scared of anyone, especially not of a Pac-man in cargo pants.”  

Danny scowls when he doesn’t even earn a smile from Steve. 

Steve’s heart clenches, his uncertainty mirrored in his expression. He wants to tell Danny everything. The truth about what happened with Mr Donovan, the truth about where he’d been the last two weeks, the truth about Activating as a Prime Sentinel and the truth about how he really feels about his best friend. 

It’s Danny; my Danny. No matter what, I know he’d never hurt me. This should be easy. 

But Steve realizes therein lies the problem. Because while there’s some part of Steve that fears that Danny would reject his proposal to bond, a larger, more irritating part of his brain is afraid that Danny will say yes.  

But isn’t this what I wanted?   

The answer comes surprisingly easily; it’s a resounding no, because that’s never what Steve wanted for them.  

Because they chose each other. Their whole lives, they chose each other every day. Danny was his, the moment nine-year-old Steve saw all that furious, bratty, loud-mouthed energy tightly packed into the tiny, grumpy body of the blonde eight-year-old. It didn’t matter to Steve when Danny tested positive as a Guide, because all he had to focus on was keeping Danny safe, and his.  

So what if he’s losing sleep because all six Sentinels at school started vying for his friend’s attention? So what if Steve had to push himself at football (I need to be stronger ), at school (I need to be smarter ), at home (I need to be prepared ), just so he would have the full suite of skills and abilities to take care of Danny ( better than any Sentinel ever could )?  

But the moment he Activated as a Prime Sentinel and realized that all his plans over the years had to be rewritten, there’s been a question that’s stuck at the tip of his tongue, just waiting to jump out.  

Would you still choose me if I never became a Sentinel?  

Before Danny can nudge Steve to get that conflicted expression off his face, and hopefully also get back on track with their earlier conversation, a nurse in pink glasses and a bright blue clipboard walks briskly into the room, breaking the moment between them. 

“You alright, dear?” she asks, not looking up from where she’s fiddling with some wires connected to one of the monitors.  

“Yup,” Danny glances at Steve before continuing, “actually, would you mind handing me some water? My friend here is too lazy to move.” 

The nurse nods, still not looking up from the wires, and reaches over to the jug on the side table. She pauses just as her fingers brush the handle though, and glances up at Steve. She raises an eyebrow at him before glancing at the water, looking at Danny, then back at Steve. She’s obviously wondering why Steve hadn’t gotten a glass for his friend earlier. 

But then her raised eyebrow smoothens out when she notices Steve’s hands fully occupied with holding Danny’s, and she shakes her head as she pours out a cop and hands it over to Danny. 

Danny thanks her, but she doesn’t even look over at him.  

Her eyes are firmly on Steve, who had made a small sound when she handed the cup over, and is she smirking?  

Danny notices the way the tips of Steve’s ears are getting pink, and from the way his eyebrows are moving, Danny can tell that Steve is feeling flustered.  

Oh.  

Danny’s eyes narrow in irritation. There are sparks of pinks and blues popping up around their shoulders. 

If the nurse is flirting...  

Danny gives Steve the stink-eye. Not that he’d judge if his friend is into older women, but Steve is still in high school and that nurse must be in her late 30s. Reciprocal attraction is not allowed.  

For Steve's own good, I’d have to get her arrested. For his own good. Yup.  

He turns his glare over to the nurse, and oh yeah, she definitely notices Danny this time. But why is her smirk getting wider?  

She reaches out to ruffle his hair, and as he’s swatting it away, he hears a growl from Steve too, and feels his hands tightening over his, almost pulling him towards Steve. 

The nurse barks out a laugh before raising her hands, with that infuriating smirk still on her face. “You definitely don’t have to worry about me.”  

Danny knows she’s talking to him, but she’s looking over at both of them? 

He just narrows his eyes at her. She winks at him, before pointedly unplugging the wire connecting him to the heart monitor. She gives him a look while holding the wire up, clearly trying to tell him something, but just shakes her head and sighs when Danny gives her a suspicious look. Danny watches as she leaves the room, chuckling to herself. 

Danny turns back to Steve, but he’s glaring at the now closed door.  

Maybe I misinterpreted... was she flirting with me?   

Danny shakes his head lightly. Whatever. No more interruptions.  

His parents could barge in any time now, and Danny needed this conversation to happen before they do.  

He clears his throat and intentionally widens his eyes, licks his lips and pouts them a little. He checks his reflection in one of the monitors next to him before turning the full force of his best ‘Baby-Danny-Needs-Help-And-Protection' look towards Steve.  

“Steve, can you tell me what happened before I passed out?” he asks, voice soft. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me...” he trails off, looking up at Steve from under lowered lashes. 

When Steve turns back to Danny from where he had been glaring holes through the door, Danny happily notes that Steve very quickly looks a little dazed, and his pupils have dilated. His eyes are roaming over Danny’s face, and he’s gaping a little. 

Danny pushes his lower lip out a little more because he can practically feel Steve standing right at the edge of the metaphorical cliff, just readying for the jump i.e. for him to spill everything. 

Steve gulps; Danny can see his adam’s apple bob and it’s kinda hot?  

He almost breaks character when Steve starts to speak. 

“I was just... really angry.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“It was nothing that you did, I just lost... control for a moment.” 

“I officially do not understand.” He pouts ever harder. 

Steve looks back up from where his gaze had dropped to his lips, and is visibly searching Danny’s face for something. His breathing has gotten heavy, and with the grasp Steve has on his hand, Danny can feel how they tighten around his.  

The silence is stretching between them and Danny feels it sit over them, heavy with unacknowledged truths. Steve's gaze is smoldering and Danny holds his breath as a tidal wave of emotions, colored dark red, soft pink, fiery orange, deep purple, rolls off Steve and pushes into Danny. It’s like the waves are trying to push him down. Into the bed. 

He doesn’t know how they got here, but now Danny’s heart is thundering in his chest, and he’s suddenly grateful the nurse had disconnected him from the – oh.  

I guess she helped me out.  

Danny licks his lips again, this time subconsciously. Another wave of the same crashes over him, attempting to pull him under. The world outside fades. He’s left with nothing but Steve’s sea-green eyes, and the emotions within them that even his Guide abilities can’t help him understand. 

“Steve,” Danny starts, heart in his throat.  

He wants to tell Steve that he doesn’t need to know. But as he looks at Steve, his breath catching in his chest, the words slip away.  

Because even if he can’t understand with his Guide abilities, Steve’s eyes are telling a clear story. There’s a whole lot of fear in them; fear of breaking the tenuous thread that binds them, fear of shattering the sanctuary they’ve built in each other’s presence, fear that what he’s going to say will change things forever. 

And Danny doesn’t get it, okay? Because there’s nothing in this world that could make ‘Steve and Danny’ become ‘Steve’ and ‘Danny’. Ever. Steve could literally say that Danny passed out because Steve socked him in the face, and Danny would only have to punch him back before they’d go back to normal. 

Danny’s brows knit together slightly, and he leans closer, straining to read Steve’s eyes. His grip tightens on Danny’s hand, an anchor in turbulent waters. 

And that’s when his dad slams open the door, making a whole commotion out of himself. His mom walks in behind him, shaking her head at her husband’s theatrics. Both his parents are stopped from moving further into the room by the nurse with pink glasses though; she’s leading them back outside to register them as visitors first. His dad whines as he’s pulled away by his wife, reaching out to his son like they’re in a tragic movie. The nurse winks at Danny as she shuts the door behind them. 

Danny had startled when the door slammed open and sat wide-eyed throughout his dad’s short performance, but now that it’s over, he falls back into the bed and stares up at the ceiling. The moment with Steve has slipped away and he’s still left sitting in the dark. With company he can’t push Steve like he wants to. Later, he promises himself. 

“How about we go to that bakery you like?” Steve suggests suddenly, voice quiet, steady, and laced with something hidden; he hadn’t been surprised at all by his parent’s sudden appearance, remaining nonplussed throughout. “Once the doctors clear you, of course. Hopefully tomorrow. Let’s grab some malasadas. I can tell you all about how I suffered immensely while waiting here at your bedside, and you can repay me by paying for my food.” 

Danny guffaws, the sound echoing through the sterile room. “Oh, you poor thing. What a tragic moment for you.” 

“Tell me about it,” Steve grins. 

The laughter fades, and Danny’s heart beats a little faster, emboldened by the promise of tomorrow. He can read between the lines; Steve has just offered to give him his answers. But Danny is fully aware that he had to tread carefully, because he can literally see the tumultuous emotions rolling from Steve. It’s difficult to read all of them, but the overwhelming intensity of the love care he has for Danny is apparent.  

So no matter where the conversation goes tomorrow, he’s not worried. 

For now, as Danny lays back in the bed, tension slowly dissipating, he squeezes Steve’s hand in reassurance. He moves his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, reveling in the warmth shared between them. “Thanks for being here.” 

Steve’s face softens, and a smile breaks across his lips, one that illuminates the space between them. “Always,” he says, the weight of that single word carrying so much. 

Danny smiles back at him. “By the way,” he starts. “You got a little something over there,” Danny points to the corner of his mouth, snickering as Steve’s face flares red as he finally removes one hand from his grasp to rub furiously at the dried drool on his face. 

As the two friends sit in silence, Danny becomes increasingly aware of the tension between them. Danny can feel the way Steve's gaze is avoiding him. It’s annoying as fuck.  

It’s been 15 minutes of Danny attempting to get a conversation going, and 15 minutes of Steve replying in grunts and/or other animal sounds. 

And yes, Danny will admit that the smell of a fresh batch of malasadas wafting from behind the glass case at the counter had distracted Danny for the 2 minutes it took for him to jump out of his seat to get another dozen, but he will not be curtailed again.  

He holds up his coffee, glaring at Steve over the rim as he sips. The radiant light of the sunset coming through the large window casts a golden hue over Steve’ face. But he will. Not. Be. Distracted. 

Danny puts his coffee down, crosses his arms, and slouches in the booth. "You know, I think the secret ingredient in their malasadas is pure happiness," he quips. He receives a grunt in response. 

That’s it.  

“And you know what would make me even happier?” 

Steve looks over at him. “What?” he recites, like he already knows the answer. 

“Oh he speaks!” Danny throws his hands up. “Human words! This is what makes me happy, look how happy I am!” He points a finger at his own scowling face.  

Steve just takes a sip of his herbal tea, but his fingers drum nervously on the surface of the mug. 

Danny rolls his eyes. “Fine. Seems like my cheerful ambiance is doing little to lighten the mood. Let me get straight to the point then.”  

Steve is now watching Danny intently, expression serious. It's as if steely resolve battles with the soft vulnerability in his gaze.  

Danny’s heart jumps, feeling the weight of Steve’s uncertainty. “I want to know what happened, Steve. I want to understand. And yeah, from context I pretty much got that you think me passing out is your fault because you felt something so strongly that I picked up it and passed out, but people can’t control their emotions. And they shouldn’t. If I passed out because of that, I don’t care. I just want to understand why you felt whatever it is at that moment with me, and why you’re hiding away. Not just yesterday, but over Christmas break too.” 

Steve clenches his jaw, a muscle twitching. He glances around the bakery, looks at the man and woman holding hands seated in a corner across the room, a father and daughter picking out malasada flavors at the counter, and at a small group of college students chatting loudly in a larger booth. He fixes his eyes back on Danny. "It's… complicated," he murmurs finally, barely audible over the chatter. 

"Complicated how?" Danny asks, leaning in. He feels the urgency to bridge the chasm of miscommunication that lie between them, because it's gone unaddressed long enough. It’s making him impatient, and anxious, and jittery. They don’t feel like his emotions alone, and he guesses that Steve feels similarly. 

"Because I can’t – " Steve breaks off, running a hand through his hair, eyes darting away from Danny's steady gaze. "I can’t tell you without… you might not understand. What if –" 

"If what?" Danny interrupts, frustration creeping into his voice. “What if I freak out? What if I punch you? So what? Just tell me, Steve. I can handle it.” 

They hover on the brink of something, and Danny feels it crackle in the air between them, longing and fear intertwining like the sweet and bitter notes of his coffee. But there’s also that same urgency and impatience flowing over him. Except it’s a lot stronger now, and accompanied by something dark and ugly. 

Danny leans back, blinking. What –  

But before Danny can gather his thoughts, the couple in the corner of the room burst out of their seats, their table and chairs crashing onto the floor. At the same time, a trio of masked figures storm in, black leather jackets glinting ominously under the soft lights of the sunset streaming in through the large windows. Danny feels the hair on his arms stand. The bakery's atmosphere has shifted from cozy to sinister in an instant. 

“Stay where you are!” one barks, brandishing a handgun. The group of college students in the booth are frozen, eyes wide with fear. The father is on the floor, shielding his daughter. The server behind the counter has his hands up. 

The couple who had been holding hands in the corner are now advancing slowly towards Steve and Danny, both holding handguns pointed at Steve and Danny, who are standing in their booth. 

Danny's breath hitches as panic surges through him. “Steve,” he gasps, “What’s happening?” He glances around frantically, searching for an escape, but the masked figures are too imposing, too close to the front door. 

“Stay with me,” Steve grabs Danny around his waist and tucks him into his side at the booth. “Just hold onto me.” Danny grabs the hem of Steve’s shirt, fingers knuckling white. Steve’s eyes narrow as he glances between the group of masked men and the couple. Danny feels the way Steve’s muscles move and tense beneath his grip, tight with tension and on high alert. 

Before Steve can move, the intruders all take one step away and fan out around them, swift, practiced, and synchronized perfectly. They pull some sort of helmet over their own heads as if it was a choreographed dance, and Danny doesn’t even have the time to wonder what they’re doing before there’s a barrage of flashbangs, lighting up the small bakery like a bomb. The deafening noise and explosive light make Danny and everyone else in the shop shout in pain. He collapses onto his knees, losing his grip on Steve in the process, and stumbles out of the booth; blinded, ears ringing painfully, and head feeling like it was going to explode. 

But it’s not over, because the flashbangs are followed by a foul smell, like rotting meat, and it makes him retch. He curls onto the floor and heaves.  

And Danny shouldn’t be able to hear anything, but he can hear Steve, Steve, who is screaming like he’s dying. Danny feels the panic begin to burst out of his chest in sobs that shake his whole body, even as he can’t escape out of the instinctive coil his body is in. He reaches out one hand blindly for Steve; did they shoot him?  Oh god, Steve. Please. Did they shoot Steve? Don’t shoot Steve. Please! Steve! 

Someone catches his arm and Danny almost sobs in relief but a scream tears out of his throat instead as he’s pulled up forcefully, arm dislocating. He fights back instinctively, twisting and struggling, but whoever has him has a tight grip. He’s being dragged somewhere. 

 “Steve! No!” he calls out, wild panic clawing at his throat. His own voice is muted; he can barely hear himself, so how could Steve? 

He isn’t given any time to find his bearings, because he feels a harsh shove against his back and he tumbles headfirst into something. The wood beneath him feels rough, splintery, and he instinctively recoils, pain shooting through his knees. They’re placing him inside it, he realizes; the enclosing walls press in around him. He can barely fit, his body constricted, limbs caught between the rough edges of the crate. They’re putting him in a crate. 

 He screams as the door of the crates closes on him, the rough jostle pushing agonizingly against his shoulder.  

It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.  

“Steve!” Danny sobs.

But he can’t hear Steve anymore.