Chapter Text
Steve is in prison accused of a murder Tony knows he didn’t commit. Not because he isn’t capable, but because he’s much too good to get caught like that. Not too long ago it was Tony in Steve’s place, again, but, as difficult as it was to be on that side, he thinks it is much worse to be free to do something and completely unable.
Steve doesn’t let him visit much and Tony keeps his complaints about that to a minimum. It’s difficult enough for a policeman in prison, they don’t need to know he’s in a relationship with a man. So, Tony is equal parts relieved and anxious when he hears Steve broke out.
He tries to keep his distance from the investigation he knows Danny and the Five-0 team are conducting. He’s got a couple of HPD uniforms following him, too. He could give them the slip without too much trouble, but he’s the decoy. It’s not a role he’s used to taking, but he doesn’t have the same resources as the rest of the team, and they need to be able to work freely.
He spends the morning driving to obscure locations, ducking into stairwells and bathrooms, making calls to unlisted numbers, and generally looking furtive. It’s a relief when Chin calls him and tells him they’ve exonerated Steve but there’s still Wo Fat to track down.
When he walks into the bathroom of Kamekona’s shave ice shop, there’s the team minus Kono, the governor, and a man Tony assumes to be Lieutenant Commander Joe White. Tony’s eyes sweep over Steve, making sure he’s okay, but beyond looking a little pale he seems fine. Not that that’s always the best way to judge. Steve nods to him and gives him a slight smile, which does wonders to put Tony at ease.
He settles in the corner, ignoring the way both the governor and the Commander are looking at him. To them he would seem to have no reason to be here, but this team has become his, however vicariously. It scares him that there are people he would put his life on the line for again, but they’re nothing like his old team, and he thinks it might be something he’s coming to terms with.
After the race to the dock, the fire-fights, and the disappearance of Wo Fat, Steve stands on the dock, watching the crime scene guys do their thing. There’s no chance they’ll catch up with Wo Fat and the buyer is dead, but there are procedures that need to be followed. Steve folds his arms and switches his gaze to the ocean. Tony comes to stand at his shoulder.
“Hey,” he says. There’s no sense in asking if he’s okay, he’s not but he’ll say he is.
“Hey,” Steve says, subdued. There are people watching, not that Tony cares about the crime scene guys but there’s Steve’s commander, and Tony doesn’t know what Steve thinks about that. Steve turns to look at him, and there’s desolation in his eyes. There’s nothing Tony can do about the situation with Wo Fat or the answers to questions about his father that Steve doesn’t even know to ask, but he pulls Steve to him and wraps his arms around him, hand cradling the back of his head.
“I’m here,” Tony says, hoping it’s some kind of comfort. Steve clings to him, hands fisting in his shirt. It’s so good to be able to feel Steve, to touch him and smell him after months of separation. He wants to say that it’s over, it’ll be okay, whatever other platitude comes to mind. “You’re here,” he says instead and presses his face into the crook of Steve’s neck until he’s not entirely sure who’s comforting whom.
“I’m here,” Steve tells him.
“Next time someone’s accused of murder, we’re going to flee the country.”
It was a pitiful joke, but Steve huffs a laugh anyway.
“I think everyone’s looking at us,” Steve says after another moment. It’s only then that Tony figures he’s going to be okay.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Danny’s got his mother-hen face on.”
This time the laugh sounds a little lighter, a little more real. Steve eases his grip finally and pulls away a little.
“I could use a beer,” Steve says, which is how they end up back at Five-0 headquarters finishing up the paperwork, interviews and interrogations. It’s a few hours before they’re able to gather around the conference table and open those beers.
Tony watches as Steve connects with his team again, touching base with each of them in turn. It doesn’t escape his notice that Joe is studying him in return, but he’s hoping if he ignores the situation it’ll go away. It doesn’t. Joe comes to stand in front of Tony where he’s leaning against the wall. It’s an aggressive posture, meant to intimidate him, which is probably why it works just a little bit.
“So you’re with Steve?” Joe says.
“Yep,” Tony says with practised ease. He takes a long, unhurried drink of his beer. After being on both sides of the dynamic, he knows that the key to interrogation is power. Keeping your own and making the other guy give up his. It didn’t matter which side of the table you sat on. “You going to ask my intentions?”
“You think that’s necessary?” Joe asks, his gaze heavy with threat and intent.
Tony grins. Joe’s good, but he’s no La Grenouille. When it comes to meeting the parents, or parental figures, of significant others, he doesn’t think much is going to top that.
“I think it’s not going to matter too much one way or the other. Steve’s stubborn like that.”
“I think you’re right, son,” Joe says with a smile of his own, but the look in his eyes says he’s going to be keeping a close eye on Tony. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He walks off, to the office where Steve is talking to Danny. Secrets settle heavy around him so that they’re almost tangible as he moves. There were times when Gibbs could be the same way, Jenny too. Tony can’t help but wonder just which of them Steve needs to be protected from.