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sealieRating: Slash
Word count: ~5, 300
Warning: skip nothing springs to mind
Advisory: potty mouth; IT’S NOT A WIP.NSFW
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof. Thank you, you’ve been amazing, and thoughtful, and helpful. I’d like everyone who has enjoyed The Co-operative to stand up and give her a round of applause.
In fine Hobbit tradition, on my birthday, I’d like to give you an extra long episode of The Co-operative. I started posting this fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bluespirit_star back on the 12th December 2011 as part of an advent celebration in her honour, organised by springwoof. Little did I know that three and a half years later there would be a total of 368, 774 words.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
Another night of ceiling fan watching. Danny really didn’t like this new fillip in his sleep cycle. The impulse to poke the sleeping tiger sprawled beside him was almost irresistible. Manfully, he resisted.
Danny slipped out from under the thin covers, and padded over to the windows. The silence of the night was soothing. Danny rubbed his arms against the mild chill in the air. His fingers brushed his new, dry bandage. He smiled at the memory of the night’s activities.
People said that sex was life affirming-- it was.
Hot milk, Danny decided.
Steve mumbled and rolled into the centre of the bed, seeking out Danny’s warmth.
“Milk.”
A hot toddy might be the way to go, Danny thought, as he descended down the spiral staircase. The whisky bottle was stored somewhere in Steve’s nautically-themed study. Danny flicked on the wall switch, blinking against the flare of light, and considered Steve’s study, scanning for the liquor. The apartment was ridiculously spacious and lonely for one person. There were rooms that Steve rarely even entered. The bottle sat on a lower shelf on a floor to ceiling bookshelf on the far wall. Scooping it up, Danny considered taking a hit without using a glass. But that way lay madness. He would make Steve’s soothing hot toddy with whisky, honey, and warm milk.
Steve’s full fat, organic gold-foil topped milk was in the fridge and the jar of Manuka honey was standing, all forlorn and alone, on a cupboard shelf. Danny decanted whisky, milk, and honey into a pan, setting it on the burner. He stirred and stirred, because an agitated pan of milk wouldn’t curdle to form a skin. And he was bored and tired and unable to sleep; stirring was a distraction.
“D?” A sleepy Steve leaned against the diamond bookshelves and yawned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just making one of your hot toddies.”
“Tar?” Steve peered, perplexed.
“Your milk drink.” Danny pointed at the pan.
“Oh.” Steve yawned again, treating Danny to the curl of his tongue. “Toddy.”
The milk just started to simmer, and Danny cut the heat before the milk skin could form. The honeyed aroma entwined with smoky whisky stroked his senses. Danny ignored Steve and poured the warm milk into a squat mug. He tested the temperature with his little finger and judged it perfect.
“Come on.” Danny swung by Steve, snagging his wrist.
Obediently, Steve trailed in his wake as if on a lead.
“You know,” Danny said, “you don’t have to follow me when I go wandering around. I just sometimes need another wall for a moment.”
Steve didn’t respond.
Danny simply towed him all the way up to bed.
“Okay?” Steve peered at him blearily, as he sank back down onto the mattress.
“Sure.” Danny clambered over the top of Steve and onto his side of the bed. Pushing the pillows one-handed, he got the perfect backrest set up, and settled down to sip his toddy.
Steve was already a relaxed curl of sleep, comfy under the blankets, head pillowed, fingers tucked under his chin.
Danny figured that Steve had essentially been sleepwalking.
“Doofus.”
~*~
“Guys! Guys!” Toast’s voice woke Danny all the way up.
“Holy shit.” Danny jerked and then froze.
“You guys decent?” Toast hollered.
Danny breathed hard, and finally sat up. Toast was conspicuous by his absence. Their resident computer geek and librarian was calling from the bottom of the spiral staircase.
Wincing, Danny rolled off the bed and padded to the top of the stairs. He peered around the slats and steps.
“Dude,” Toast said happily, as he poked his head over the banister.
“Is the House on fire?” Danny asked waspishly.
“No.”
“Potential murder and mayhem on the horizon?”
“Nope, Brah.” Toast rocked back on his heels out of sight, and bounced back.
“On a scale of one to ten: how important is it that you had to wake me up from the best sleep that I’ve had in weeks to bawl at me?”
“Uhm.” Toast cast about, scanning for answers in the air. “Steve would probably give it a ten. You, I guess, a two, three maybe. I’m thinking six. So, I’m thinking on average, six point three -- recurring, of course.”
“Six out of ten?
“Six point three recurring,” Toast belaboured.
“We’ll come see you after breakfast.” Danny turned away and headed back to bed. He angled around to his side table and grabbed two Tylenol since that wake up had jarred him. There was a little milk left in the cup on the bedside table. He used that to wash down the painkillers. The whisky was an added extra.
Cocooned and protected by pillows and blankets, Steve slept on, oblivious. There were some benefits to being deaf, Danny noted, as he crawled back into his perfectly warm bed and stuffed his head under a pillow.
~*~
Steve, rolling out of bed some unfathomable period later, woke Danny up. He lifted his head, and blinked at Steve’s narrow butt, as he stretched beside the bed. Hands above his head, Steve was a supplicant to the sunlight streaming through his open windows. Danny made a mental note to get him to do that again, but in evening light, so he could get photographs. In the evening because, well, the morning light might be better, but bah humbug. Grumpily, Danny knew that this idea was an early morning shoot. Steve was still communing with the dawning sun. He moved surprisingly easily for someone with a Monet mosaic of bruises over his side.
“Toast,” Danny said, as a demand for food, and then remembered that Toast wanted to see them. In retrospect, it was probably something to do with the floppy disc.
“What?” Steve craned his head. He smiled luminously, ridiculously happy to see Danny awake. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Steve knelt on the mattress, and then slowly and surely prowled across the expanse.
“Like that, is it?” Danny scooped a hand around Steve’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, with absolutely no effort at all.
Steve kissed open mouthed, with little panache and a lot of vigour, fingers tangling in Danny’s hair. Pinned under the blankets, as Steve straddled him, Danny returned his attempts.
“Gonna make a mess,” Danny strained against the taut covers, grinding his hips.
“What?” Steve backed off a fraction.
“Up, up. Up.” Danny pushed.
Steve swung off him, and Danny flung off the thin quilt.
“Ahah,” Steve said, irrepressibly, and dove back in.
Palming Danny’s heavy cock through the slit in his boxers, he pulled it out and bent over to suck. Danny thudded his head back against the pillows and shuddered. Clever fingers delved through his baggy boxers, playing and fumbling. As he nuzzled and sucked, Steve pushed with his shoulder, making Danny bend his knee up out of the way.
“What are you doing, Babe?” Danny managed to find a modicum of coherency.
Undeterred by the constriction of Danny’s boxes, Steve found his goal.
“Geez.” Danny arched his back as Steve probed.
Steve slipped free of Danny’s cock with a slurping pop. He backed off a fraction and regarded Danny from between his legs. What a picture, Danny thought. Not one that he would photograph, though. The band-aid over Steve’s forehead and temple made for a pretty weird photograph -- a little too sadomasochistic for Danny’s tastes.
“You’re still looooobey,” Steve announced, drawing his finger free.
“Haven’t been to the john, Steven.” Danny pointed out.
“Of course.” Steve said an instant later. “Hmmm, you sore? From last night?” he asked, just in case Danny had possibly forgotten.
Danny made a little wiggle, just checking. Yeah, he was sensitive, but he was also game.
“Get a condom.”
“What?” Steve made the scrunchy face.
“Condom. No arguments.”
Scrunchy face fixed, Steve shuffled over his bed to the bedside table. Danny skinned out of his boxers; this was probably the best way in the universe to wake up.
“You’re going to have to take off your boxers, Babe,” he pointed out, as Steve rooted around in a drawer, presenting his butt, and the sea tattoo that arrowed down to his crease.
“What?” Steve straightened with a foil wrapper in one hand, and what looked like a mangled tube of KY jelly in the other. He shuffled around on the mattress.
Danny twirled his own boxers on his index finger.
Hilariously, Steve checked that he was still wearing his tented boxers.
“Oh, yes.” Wiggling, he slipped the waistband over his cock and simply let them fall to his knees.
Danny sniggered as Steve then had to fight free of the boxers wrapped around his legs.
“Very smooth, Babe.”
Steve tossed them aside, with a flourish. They hit the window. Leonine, Steve came back over the bed on hands and knees, his full cock swinging lazily. Danny jacked his own cock, as Steve put on his show, arching his back.
“God.” Steve dove in, kissing Danny hard enough to mash his lips against his teeth. Danny returned his fervour.
“Come on, Babe. Come on, before I just cum from rubbing against you.”
Taking a deep breath, Steve pulled back.
“You’re not hurting?” Danny curled up slightly, to stroke his hand over Steve’s bellybutton. “Your ribs?”
“Hurting? My side?” Steve checked as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m kind of used to it. The pharmacy strength Naprosyn is good for twelve hours.”
“Jesus. No punching and hits for at least six months, okay?”
Steve shook his head and backed up his confusion by snapping his fore and index finger against his thumb. Danny didn’t know that sign; Steve had been checking out the YouTube videos again. He didn’t know where Steve found the time.
“More fun. Less lectures.” Steve squeezed gloopy KY onto his signing fingers. “Lots of looooobe for my Danny.”
“It’s like that, is it?” Danny bent his knees and jacked his cock again.
Steve grinned toothily.
“Come on. Come on.” One handed, Steve pushed Danny’s knee up. Helpfully, Danny bent his other knee.
“Next time, I want breakfast in bed first,” Danny said as he splayed himself for Steve’s delectation.
“I don’t have my aids in, Danny. I can concentrate on what you’re saying or--” He held up his gel covered index and forefinger.
“Gimme,” Danny wiggled his fingers.
Cocking an eyebrow, bottom lip caught between his teeth, Steve set to work. Danny arched against the push. He was more relaxed than last night in the Jacuzzi. More willing, less nervous, and much more horny in the morning. Pre-cum beaded on his cock, smearing against the hair on his abdomen. Sweat beaded on his brow. His head thudded against his pillows as he arched his back.
“Come on, Babe, enough already, gimme,” he beseeched.
Steve pulled his fingers free with an audible squish. His cock stood proud, foreskin drawn back.
“Condom.” Danny pointed at the wrapper on the sheets.
Momentarily balking at the interruption in his thought processes, Steve froze a millisecond before scooping up the sachet. Fumbling with eagerness, he couldn’t get a purchase on the foil wrapping with his slippery fingers.
Danny laughed as he dropped it.
“Don’t laugh!” Steve snorted at him. He stretched over and wiped his fingers over Danny’s abundance of chest hair.
“Hey!”
“Needs must,” Steve said practically, and finally tore the corner of the wrapper.
Tongue between his teeth in concentration -- and wasn’t that endearing -- Steve rolled the purple condom down his cock.
“Purple?” Danny laughed.
“I think that it’s grape flavoured.” He inhaled mightily. “Yeah, grape.”
Shuffling on his knees, he moved over between Danny’s knees, brows furrowed as he contemplated mechanics.
“Isn’t it easier on your hands and knees?” he asked.
Danny arched his back in answer, feet firmly planted on the mattress.
“Heh.” Steve scooped his hands around the small of Danny’s back and lifted him slightly into his lap, crooning, “Hairy butt.”
“I’ll bite you,” Danny threatened.
Positioned to his satisfaction, and tongue still firmly poking out of the side of his mouth, Steve moved carefully and slowly. Penetration was easier since last night. Steve slid all the way in. Expression abstracted, caught in the moment, Steve rotated his hips. There was sparks, but it wasn’t right.
“No, Babe.” Danny lifted his head off the pillow. “Thrust. Thrust. I’m not a woman.”
“What?”
“Thrust.” Danny said clearly, as he hooked his ankles around Steve’s back and pulled him closer.
“Thrust?” Steve jerked his hips and his eyes rolled back in his head.
His hips snapped again, and Danny felt starlight. Danny’s cock smacked against his abdomen making sticky trails. Uncoordinatedly, he grabbed his cock, determined to get off. He flicked his fingernail in the leftover well of his Prince Albert piercing under the head. Lightning built.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” Steve jerked, staccato.
“Come on, Babe. Come on, Babe.” Danny stroked his cock. He clenched internal muscles. “Now. Now.”
“Ooooooh.” Steve pulsed, and Danny came.
It was awesome. Lightning sparked up Danny’s spine, and his legs went to jelly. Steve was an opened-mouthed statue, breathing hard as if running a marathon.
“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, and sagged. He slipped free, holding the base of his cock. “That was better than last night. Oh, boy.”
He rolled to the side, half-mashed against Danny. He kissed Danny’s nipple, the only point he could reach.
A frisson of delight echoed through Danny. Nipples had always been a sensitive erogenous zone. He’d thought about getting barbells, but piercing might have made them a little too sensitive.
“Love you, Babe.” Danny craned his head and kissed the sweaty curls on the top of Steve’s head.
“That was awesome,” Steve mumbled halfway to sleep. “Awesome.”
Danny just wanted to lie still and bask.
A nap sounded like an excellent idea.
~*~
Danny really enjoyed his shower. He felt a little chaffed. Soothing cream was the name of the game. There was an element of ‘men didn’t pamper themselves’, but Danny gave people who believed that sentiment the finger. Steve moisturised, admittedly for medical purposes.
His stomach clamoured for attention. So needs must. Earlier, Steve had padded downstairs; Danny’s big ball of energy unable to spend too long lolling around in bed. Danny wanted pancakes and bacon with maple syrup. Steve had had his aids in when Danny had made the order.
“Pancakes. Pancakes. Where’s my pancakes?” Danny sang.
Steve was by the stove, regarding a frying pan as if it was a landmine about to go off.
“Hey, Babe? Everything okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Steve’s focus was on the pan.
Danny sidled up. There was an oval pancake in the pan, a bit squished on one side.
“Having fun?” Danny asked.
“Yeah, I’m just making sure they come out right.”
“Where’s the bacon?”
“Bacon?” Steve glanced at him. “Did you want bacon?”
Danny had said bacon, but, well, it hadn’t happened.
“Nah.” Danny shrugged. “Do you wanna start on the fresh fruit and I’ll take over?”
“Sure.” Steve pushed the spatula into Danny’s hand and abandoned the pan without looking back.
The pancake tore as he tried to flip it over. Steve hadn’t used enough oil. Danny grabbed the vegetable oil and set to work. Steve ferried strawberries, mangoes and oranges to the table and sat down to chop.
“Dudes. Finally, you’re up!” Toast ran in to the kitchen, loaded down with print outs. He dumped a heavy sheaf of paper onto the kitchen table with a slap and thrust a tablet at Steve.
“Stop.” Fastidiously, Steve wiped his fingers on a cloth. Carefully, he accepted the tablet and picked up the printed sheets. Unbound, they curled over his fist like a dead thing. “Paper copies?”
“It’s ASCII print. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it on the tablet,” Toast said. “Well, I can, so it’s backed up, but the formatting is atrocious. It would have given anyone a migraine trying to read it. The oldest stuff is the print out.”
“How far back does it go?” Steve said, regarding the pages. It was as if he didn’t want to read the content.
“Have you read it?” Danny asked Toast.
“Well, yeah, I’ve been up all night,” Toast said pointedly. “The early stuff are all mission reports.”
“Mission reports?” Steve set the papers on the table, and smoothed his hand over the top page.
“I--” Toast reached out, his nail-bitten fingers scraping the sheaf into distinct sections separated by torn bits of paper. “First mission account entry is 1972.”
“1972,” Steve repeated.
“The early stuff is, I guess, your mom running around Asia with her training wheels on? That Joe White guy is mentioned. It doesn’t really get interesting until late 1974 through 1976.”
“1976?” Steve asked. “When in 1976?”
“All of it. She’s deep undercover.”
“Seriously?” Steve jerked his chin back, affronted.
Toast turned a pile of papers around and separated out the last few pages. The text was pushed to the far left side of the sheet of paper. Tiny text and numbers writhed across the pages. They needed a magnifying glass. The date on the top page was November 1976.
“Why’s that weird?” Danny asked. November 1976?
“Because my mother was four or five months pregnant--” Steve was pale, “--with me.”
“Wow.” Danny blinked. “She was going on CIA missions while pregnant? Where was your dad?”
“In the Navy,” Steve said robotically. “Mom and Dad met when Dad was in the Navy in Sri Lanka.”
“Good cover,” Toast interjected, and then shrugged when Danny turned on him. “Who would suspect a woman with a bun-in-the-oven?”
“No!” was the only way that Danny could sum up his distaste. Steve had been going on covert missions before he was born. It struck Danny as seriously irresponsible. Danny wondered if Wo Yongfu had thought that the baby was his.
“What?” Steve asked, watching Danny’s expression closely.
“What was this deep undercover mission?” Danny deflected, as he wondered when Doris and John had married.
“Uhm, teaching, bizarrely. There was this creepy school where kids were taught English. Creepy because it’s also about teaching them about the West.”
“Training camp,” Steve summarised, returning to matters at hand, even as his brows furrowed in question at Danny.
“When does she meet Wo Fat’s dad?” Danny asked, a little distracted by the training camp comment.
“She meets Wo Fat’s daddy for the first time in 1975, when he brings Wo Fat to the school.” Toast took the individual sections and started to lay them on the table. He pointed at the middle sheaf.
“So she was identifying future agents and military assets,” Steve judged.
“What? What?” Danny set the frying pan aside on the stove and came around the table. Breakfast could wait.
“You best train your agents young. Children are malleable. They learn languages easily. Absorb all manner of information.” Steve selected the papers that Toast had indicated and flicked through a couple of pages. “And, in general, this sort of training stays within the family in some cultures. A father will indoctrinate his son.”
“So dad brings his kid, and Doris identified both kid and parent?” Danny figured.
“That’s a good idea!” Toast enthused. “It’s like a James Bond plot.”
“We got names?” Steve asked levelly.
“More names than you can throw a stick at.” Toast danced on the spot.
“That’s not what this is all about, though, is it?” Danny nodded at the separate sections of paper one after another, and finished pointing at the tablet that Steve was still holding. “She would have given the CIA the names of the potential agents decades ago.”
“She did loads of stuff. Your mom was the Black Widow, Brah. Well, without the marrying and killing people. I mean, she wasn’t a spider with a history of cannibalism, she was an agent. Black Widow from the Marvel comics without the history and the Red Room.”
“Toast,” Steve interrupted, in a tone so flat you could have used it as a spirit level.
“Yes, Steve.” Toast almost came to attention. Perspiration was darkening the collar of his t-shirt.
“Are there details about her mission regarding Wo Yongfu in China other than the undercover work at the training school?” Steve said.
“That’s just like the heaviest stuff, ever.” Toast stretched across the papers, to the last of the pile and tapped it -- tappity tap. “So your mom was assigned to assassinate Wo Yongfu. He was so high up in the MFS it wasn’t even funny.”
“MFS?” Danny asked.
“Chinese Intelligence agency,” Steve explained.
“Wo Yongfu had a rep for playing things really close to his chest,” Toast continued enthusiastically. “So Doris was to… uhm… ingratiate herself in the family, steal any intel and then assassinate him.”
“Geez,” Danny could only say.
Steve was a silent, watching statue. He was sucking all of the energy out of the air.
“You have to remember that this is mostly pre-computer, and definitely no internet and easy, hackable data sources. Its microfiches and--” Toast gagged, “--notebooks. So assassinating him would have put a real kink in their operation.”
“And she failed,” Steve summarised, breaking through Toast’s enthusiasm.
“But for the right reasons, Brah!” He snatched up the last pile out from under Steve’s fingers.
“Right reasons,” Danny echoed, because, well, that didn’t make sense.
“She was gonna kill him and everything.”
“And everything?” Danny wondered, thinking, what does that entail?
“I mean assassinate him, like dead.”
“Toast, what happened?” Steve clicked his fingers, demanding Toast to hand back the papers that he was nominally reading from, but in fact seemed to have memorised.
“Doris knew the layout of their family home, she’d been there. She, well, uhm, was going there late at night.” Toast coughed suggestively.
“Continue,” Steve said icily.
“So like, Doris broke in to kill Wo Yongfu and steal anything that she could lay her hands on. But Wo Fat and Wo Fat’s mom, Lei Kuan Fat, were there. She was there and everything. The report’s really dry, but I can tell. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t kill Wo Yongfu. She couldn’t do the whole family. So she left -- escaped.”
“Wow,” Danny could only say, and then his brain engaged. “How? Wo Yongfu knows that she’s an agent, and she’s in China? How the Hell did she escape? Oh… Oh, right.”
“What are you thinking?” Steve asked directly.
“I kind of guessed--” Danny swallowed, and then barrelled straight on, “--Wo Yongfu figured that Doris’ baby was his, so he kind of let her go. He couldn’t kill the mother of his child.”
“You’re talking about my mother.”
“Sorry,” Danny said, and sat down hard on his seat.
“Uhm, Black Widow, man,” Toast said. “It’s… she used the tools available.”
“Euphemisms for the win,” Steve snapped angrily. “Say it: my mother had sex with Wo Yongfu, as part of her mission to identify important operatives in the MFS, and threats to the United States of America.”
“I’m pretty sure that Wo Yongfu’s not your dad,” Toast said, a little uncertainly.
“Clearly.” Steve pointed at his own face. “You knew my paternal grandmother.”
“Oh yeah, you and Audrey have the same eyes and that pale, dark haired thing. And, you know, same authoritarian shit.”
“So,” Danny interrupted, because he didn’t want to dwell unnecessarily on Steve’s paternity. He had seen photographs of Audrey McGarrett, and Steve was his grandmother’s grandson. Also Steve might thump Toast. “Doris failed her mission, and was identified as an agent, and essentially was no longer able to work in China. And she was also going to have a baby. She started her caches? Maybe she got the platinum from Wo Yongfu? She needed stuff to ensure that she had bargaining power with Wo Yongfu and, maybe, even the CIA?”
“Sensible,” Steve said, voice rich with experience.
“So we now know why Doris got to know Wo Yongfu,” Danny said.
Toast coughed.
“Doris comes to Hawaii to start a family,” Danny continued ignoring Toast and focusing on Steve. “Wo Yongfu might know her face, but doesn’t know her real name, he only knows her as Elisabeth Shelburne. She’s still an operative. Your dad identifies that the Yakuza are a threat. Doris is assigned to the Noshimuri family, keeping an eye on the Yakuza big boss. Wo Yongfu meets with Hiro Noshimuri, ten years after Doris failed to kill him. Maybe he’s not too sure it’s her? She’s changed her hair? She’s older. Put on weight? Lost weight? It’s been ten years.”
“And she assassinates Wo Yongfu to protect her identity and her family, and takes Wo Yongfu’s ledger and ancestral tablet,” Steve finished Danny’s summary.
“Exactly.”
“Hard core,” Toast said.
~*~
“Are you okay, Babe?” Danny asked.
He had tracked Steve to the bench overlooking the Bay of Seolh. Steve had pulled his disappearing act about thirty seconds after they had finished breakfast. Danny had only turned his back long enough to wash the dishes. He had given Steve his me-time. In similar circumstances, Danny would have had to bury himself away to decompress.
Steve’s eyes were a little red-rimmed. Tears were, however, unshed. He patted the bench at his side and Danny sat.
“Just thinking,” Steve said.
“About what?”
“Everything.” Steve turned a cigar tin over in his hands. “It’s hard to digest that my mom was a CIA agent and assassin. All this history….”
“And?” Danny prompted when Steve fell silent.
“Here.” He cracked open the tin. A collection of old faded Polaroids fell out onto his lap.
Carefully, Danny picked them up. They were family photographs. Candids of Doris and John, Steve and Mary, a picture of Audrey and a man, who Danny guessed was Steve and Mary’s paternal grandfather, and, finally, a school picture of Steve, smiling a gap-toothed smile. Family memories squirreled away in Doris’ cache.
“My dad worked with mom,” Steve said. “So he must have been embedded to some extent. They met while she was an agent, and he was in the Navy. He hardly could have been that naïve. Joe White. The Hesse Brothers. Wo Fat. I wonder if he thought I might have been his younger brother? Or if Wo Yongfu wondered what had happened to the kid who he thought was his own.”
“That’s… charitable of you?” Danny hedged.
“Your mind goes weird places, sometimes.” Steve shifted slightly on the seat to better watch Danny’s lips.
“I don’t know, Babe. I sort of assume that if you’re a bad guy, you don’t care about anything other than yourself. The guy was a Chinese Intelligence Officer cum Chinese drug boss. Do bad guys think about that sort of stuff? How does that work: agent and a criminal?”
“Just because you’re a criminal or a terrorist doesn’t mean that you don’t care about your family. Or an agent….” Steve finished pensively.
“Hey.” Danny leaned in closer. “Your mom might have been an agent, but she wasn’t a criminal.”
“Criminality and Intelligence Operations aren’t always that far apart,” Steve said clinically. “And working for the government sometimes gets you a transferable skill set that is difficult to apply in the so-called real world.”
That statement sent all kinds of weird tangents through Danny’s head.
“You want to use your powers for evil?” Danny finally asked. Surfing this conversation with Steve was a veritable mindfield. He needed to derail Steve’s thoughts; he was deep in a dark well of pondering, and it didn’t feel healthy to Danny.
“I don’t need to.” Steve regarded Danny sideways. “I don’t feel any sort of urge to be evil. I’m lucky. I have a loving and supportive ‘Ohana.”
“True.” Danny pushed his shoulder into Steve’s comfortingly.
“Come here.” Steve shifted and slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder to pull him in tightly. “This is what is important.”
“What, the view?” Danny asked, being purposely dense.
“Yeah, the view.” The bay was a clear aquamarine hue -- the Seolh blue. Belatedly, Danny realised why the colour meant home.
“Yeah, the view.”
“I’m kind of glad that we have all the answers,” Steve said. He pressed an absent kiss into Danny’s hair. “I’m glad that you found Seolh. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have gotten to the answers.”
“In all honesty, if Kono hadn’t introduced me to Seolh, you would have never even known that there were any secrets to uncover,” Danny pointed out.
Steve mulled that over, arm tight around Danny.
“It’s for the best. Secrets don’t help anyone. You finding Seolh was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Awww,” Danny said mock-bashfully. “It was the best thing to happen to me too.”
~*~
Epilogue
Danny made the last turn around his studio.
He had taken a lot of photographs since arriving at Seolh. He was old school. There was something fundamentally better about a hard copy of a photograph that you could hold in your hand. He stuffed the folder of hard copies of the photographs that he had printed out into his laptop bag. Only one of his most recent photographs had been given a frame. Danny smiled at the photograph -- Steve had fallen in the rock pool when he had been wearing a translucent, white shirt. Steve’s frustrated, furious expression was all kinds of adorable. The memory of that day was crystal -- the day that Danny had realised that he was attracted to the big lump. Swallowing hard, he carefully slid the frame into the bag, and manoeuvred the backpack onto his back.
He had his camera bags ready: the two cameras that he had ‘acquired’ from paparazzo, and his own Canon. He criss-crossed the straps over his chest, settling the blocky camera bags at his hips. All his clothes mashed into a little wheeled suitcase. The camera tripod that Steve had given him was a little unwieldy, but it also had a strap. He felt weighted down as if he was going on safari. He tucked it under his arm.
He had one hand free to gather up his photo of Grace that he kept beside his bed.
Yep, he had everything that was important.
Fumbling, he got the door open, and dragged himself and all his worldly possessions out of his hodgepodge studio. The wheels on his suitcase went clickity-click as he towed it down the corridor. Manhandling everything up the stairs was a bit of a production, but he managed. He got everything up on the top landing in one fell swoop.
He paused, took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door as hard as possible. The sound reverberated.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There was a long echoing silence and then footsteps tapped across a wooden floor. The door opened.
“Danny?” Steve froze, taking in Danny weighted down from head to toe. Colour drained from his cheeks. “Danny, what’s happening?”
“Oh, you banana,” Danny said exasperatedly. He thrust his photo of Grace into Steve’s hands. “I’m moving in.”
“What?” Steve turned the photo of Grace over, and automatically smiled at her angelic face.
“I’m moving in, Steven. Your apartment is too big for one person.”
“Oh.” Steve looked him up and down. A smirk crossed his lips. “Is that the only reason?”
“I have very specific shampoo and conditioner needs, and they need to be where I am.”
“Okay. We can do that. ” The smirk was slowly changing into a smile.
“I figure that the bedroom on this level can be converted for Grace, for when she visits. Okay?”
“We’ll have to redecorate. It’s kind of dull at the moment,” Steve said, agreeably. “Anything else?”
“Well,” Danny said, faux conversationally, as he passed over the tripod, which Steve took automatically, “I happen to love you.”
“I love you too.” Steve’s smile became a beaming grin. He stepped aside, swinging the door to their apartment wide open. “Come on in.”
Danny stepped inside.
The end
Word count: ~5, 300
Warning: skip nothing springs to mind
Advisory: potty mouth; IT’S NOT A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof. Thank you, you’ve been amazing, and thoughtful, and helpful. I’d like everyone who has enjoyed The Co-operative to stand up and give her a round of applause.
In fine Hobbit tradition, on my birthday, I’d like to give you an extra long episode of The Co-operative. I started posting this fic for
bluespirit_star back on the 12th December 2011 as part of an advent celebration in her honour, organised by springwoof. Little did I know that three and a half years later there would be a total of 368, 774 words. The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
Another night of ceiling fan watching. Danny really didn’t like this new fillip in his sleep cycle. The impulse to poke the sleeping tiger sprawled beside him was almost irresistible. Manfully, he resisted.
Danny slipped out from under the thin covers, and padded over to the windows. The silence of the night was soothing. Danny rubbed his arms against the mild chill in the air. His fingers brushed his new, dry bandage. He smiled at the memory of the night’s activities.
People said that sex was life affirming-- it was.
Hot milk, Danny decided.
Steve mumbled and rolled into the centre of the bed, seeking out Danny’s warmth.
“Milk.”
A hot toddy might be the way to go, Danny thought, as he descended down the spiral staircase. The whisky bottle was stored somewhere in Steve’s nautically-themed study. Danny flicked on the wall switch, blinking against the flare of light, and considered Steve’s study, scanning for the liquor. The apartment was ridiculously spacious and lonely for one person. There were rooms that Steve rarely even entered. The bottle sat on a lower shelf on a floor to ceiling bookshelf on the far wall. Scooping it up, Danny considered taking a hit without using a glass. But that way lay madness. He would make Steve’s soothing hot toddy with whisky, honey, and warm milk.
Steve’s full fat, organic gold-foil topped milk was in the fridge and the jar of Manuka honey was standing, all forlorn and alone, on a cupboard shelf. Danny decanted whisky, milk, and honey into a pan, setting it on the burner. He stirred and stirred, because an agitated pan of milk wouldn’t curdle to form a skin. And he was bored and tired and unable to sleep; stirring was a distraction.
“D?” A sleepy Steve leaned against the diamond bookshelves and yawned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just making one of your hot toddies.”
“Tar?” Steve peered, perplexed.
“Your milk drink.” Danny pointed at the pan.
“Oh.” Steve yawned again, treating Danny to the curl of his tongue. “Toddy.”
The milk just started to simmer, and Danny cut the heat before the milk skin could form. The honeyed aroma entwined with smoky whisky stroked his senses. Danny ignored Steve and poured the warm milk into a squat mug. He tested the temperature with his little finger and judged it perfect.
“Come on.” Danny swung by Steve, snagging his wrist.
Obediently, Steve trailed in his wake as if on a lead.
“You know,” Danny said, “you don’t have to follow me when I go wandering around. I just sometimes need another wall for a moment.”
Steve didn’t respond.
Danny simply towed him all the way up to bed.
“Okay?” Steve peered at him blearily, as he sank back down onto the mattress.
“Sure.” Danny clambered over the top of Steve and onto his side of the bed. Pushing the pillows one-handed, he got the perfect backrest set up, and settled down to sip his toddy.
Steve was already a relaxed curl of sleep, comfy under the blankets, head pillowed, fingers tucked under his chin.
Danny figured that Steve had essentially been sleepwalking.
“Doofus.”
~*~
“Guys! Guys!” Toast’s voice woke Danny all the way up.
“Holy shit.” Danny jerked and then froze.
“You guys decent?” Toast hollered.
Danny breathed hard, and finally sat up. Toast was conspicuous by his absence. Their resident computer geek and librarian was calling from the bottom of the spiral staircase.
Wincing, Danny rolled off the bed and padded to the top of the stairs. He peered around the slats and steps.
“Dude,” Toast said happily, as he poked his head over the banister.
“Is the House on fire?” Danny asked waspishly.
“No.”
“Potential murder and mayhem on the horizon?”
“Nope, Brah.” Toast rocked back on his heels out of sight, and bounced back.
“On a scale of one to ten: how important is it that you had to wake me up from the best sleep that I’ve had in weeks to bawl at me?”
“Uhm.” Toast cast about, scanning for answers in the air. “Steve would probably give it a ten. You, I guess, a two, three maybe. I’m thinking six. So, I’m thinking on average, six point three -- recurring, of course.”
“Six out of ten?
“Six point three recurring,” Toast belaboured.
“We’ll come see you after breakfast.” Danny turned away and headed back to bed. He angled around to his side table and grabbed two Tylenol since that wake up had jarred him. There was a little milk left in the cup on the bedside table. He used that to wash down the painkillers. The whisky was an added extra.
Cocooned and protected by pillows and blankets, Steve slept on, oblivious. There were some benefits to being deaf, Danny noted, as he crawled back into his perfectly warm bed and stuffed his head under a pillow.
~*~
Steve, rolling out of bed some unfathomable period later, woke Danny up. He lifted his head, and blinked at Steve’s narrow butt, as he stretched beside the bed. Hands above his head, Steve was a supplicant to the sunlight streaming through his open windows. Danny made a mental note to get him to do that again, but in evening light, so he could get photographs. In the evening because, well, the morning light might be better, but bah humbug. Grumpily, Danny knew that this idea was an early morning shoot. Steve was still communing with the dawning sun. He moved surprisingly easily for someone with a Monet mosaic of bruises over his side.
“Toast,” Danny said, as a demand for food, and then remembered that Toast wanted to see them. In retrospect, it was probably something to do with the floppy disc.
“What?” Steve craned his head. He smiled luminously, ridiculously happy to see Danny awake. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Steve knelt on the mattress, and then slowly and surely prowled across the expanse.
“Like that, is it?” Danny scooped a hand around Steve’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, with absolutely no effort at all.
Steve kissed open mouthed, with little panache and a lot of vigour, fingers tangling in Danny’s hair. Pinned under the blankets, as Steve straddled him, Danny returned his attempts.
“Gonna make a mess,” Danny strained against the taut covers, grinding his hips.
“What?” Steve backed off a fraction.
“Up, up. Up.” Danny pushed.
Steve swung off him, and Danny flung off the thin quilt.
“Ahah,” Steve said, irrepressibly, and dove back in.
Palming Danny’s heavy cock through the slit in his boxers, he pulled it out and bent over to suck. Danny thudded his head back against the pillows and shuddered. Clever fingers delved through his baggy boxers, playing and fumbling. As he nuzzled and sucked, Steve pushed with his shoulder, making Danny bend his knee up out of the way.
“What are you doing, Babe?” Danny managed to find a modicum of coherency.
Undeterred by the constriction of Danny’s boxes, Steve found his goal.
“Geez.” Danny arched his back as Steve probed.
Steve slipped free of Danny’s cock with a slurping pop. He backed off a fraction and regarded Danny from between his legs. What a picture, Danny thought. Not one that he would photograph, though. The band-aid over Steve’s forehead and temple made for a pretty weird photograph -- a little too sadomasochistic for Danny’s tastes.
“You’re still looooobey,” Steve announced, drawing his finger free.
“Haven’t been to the john, Steven.” Danny pointed out.
“Of course.” Steve said an instant later. “Hmmm, you sore? From last night?” he asked, just in case Danny had possibly forgotten.
Danny made a little wiggle, just checking. Yeah, he was sensitive, but he was also game.
“Get a condom.”
“What?” Steve made the scrunchy face.
“Condom. No arguments.”
Scrunchy face fixed, Steve shuffled over his bed to the bedside table. Danny skinned out of his boxers; this was probably the best way in the universe to wake up.
“You’re going to have to take off your boxers, Babe,” he pointed out, as Steve rooted around in a drawer, presenting his butt, and the sea tattoo that arrowed down to his crease.
“What?” Steve straightened with a foil wrapper in one hand, and what looked like a mangled tube of KY jelly in the other. He shuffled around on the mattress.
Danny twirled his own boxers on his index finger.
Hilariously, Steve checked that he was still wearing his tented boxers.
“Oh, yes.” Wiggling, he slipped the waistband over his cock and simply let them fall to his knees.
Danny sniggered as Steve then had to fight free of the boxers wrapped around his legs.
“Very smooth, Babe.”
Steve tossed them aside, with a flourish. They hit the window. Leonine, Steve came back over the bed on hands and knees, his full cock swinging lazily. Danny jacked his own cock, as Steve put on his show, arching his back.
“God.” Steve dove in, kissing Danny hard enough to mash his lips against his teeth. Danny returned his fervour.
“Come on, Babe. Come on, before I just cum from rubbing against you.”
Taking a deep breath, Steve pulled back.
“You’re not hurting?” Danny curled up slightly, to stroke his hand over Steve’s bellybutton. “Your ribs?”
“Hurting? My side?” Steve checked as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m kind of used to it. The pharmacy strength Naprosyn is good for twelve hours.”
“Jesus. No punching and hits for at least six months, okay?”
Steve shook his head and backed up his confusion by snapping his fore and index finger against his thumb. Danny didn’t know that sign; Steve had been checking out the YouTube videos again. He didn’t know where Steve found the time.
“More fun. Less lectures.” Steve squeezed gloopy KY onto his signing fingers. “Lots of looooobe for my Danny.”
“It’s like that, is it?” Danny bent his knees and jacked his cock again.
Steve grinned toothily.
“Come on. Come on.” One handed, Steve pushed Danny’s knee up. Helpfully, Danny bent his other knee.
“Next time, I want breakfast in bed first,” Danny said as he splayed himself for Steve’s delectation.
“I don’t have my aids in, Danny. I can concentrate on what you’re saying or--” He held up his gel covered index and forefinger.
“Gimme,” Danny wiggled his fingers.
Cocking an eyebrow, bottom lip caught between his teeth, Steve set to work. Danny arched against the push. He was more relaxed than last night in the Jacuzzi. More willing, less nervous, and much more horny in the morning. Pre-cum beaded on his cock, smearing against the hair on his abdomen. Sweat beaded on his brow. His head thudded against his pillows as he arched his back.
“Come on, Babe, enough already, gimme,” he beseeched.
Steve pulled his fingers free with an audible squish. His cock stood proud, foreskin drawn back.
“Condom.” Danny pointed at the wrapper on the sheets.
Momentarily balking at the interruption in his thought processes, Steve froze a millisecond before scooping up the sachet. Fumbling with eagerness, he couldn’t get a purchase on the foil wrapping with his slippery fingers.
Danny laughed as he dropped it.
“Don’t laugh!” Steve snorted at him. He stretched over and wiped his fingers over Danny’s abundance of chest hair.
“Hey!”
“Needs must,” Steve said practically, and finally tore the corner of the wrapper.
Tongue between his teeth in concentration -- and wasn’t that endearing -- Steve rolled the purple condom down his cock.
“Purple?” Danny laughed.
“I think that it’s grape flavoured.” He inhaled mightily. “Yeah, grape.”
Shuffling on his knees, he moved over between Danny’s knees, brows furrowed as he contemplated mechanics.
“Isn’t it easier on your hands and knees?” he asked.
Danny arched his back in answer, feet firmly planted on the mattress.
“Heh.” Steve scooped his hands around the small of Danny’s back and lifted him slightly into his lap, crooning, “Hairy butt.”
“I’ll bite you,” Danny threatened.
Positioned to his satisfaction, and tongue still firmly poking out of the side of his mouth, Steve moved carefully and slowly. Penetration was easier since last night. Steve slid all the way in. Expression abstracted, caught in the moment, Steve rotated his hips. There was sparks, but it wasn’t right.
“No, Babe.” Danny lifted his head off the pillow. “Thrust. Thrust. I’m not a woman.”
“What?”
“Thrust.” Danny said clearly, as he hooked his ankles around Steve’s back and pulled him closer.
“Thrust?” Steve jerked his hips and his eyes rolled back in his head.
His hips snapped again, and Danny felt starlight. Danny’s cock smacked against his abdomen making sticky trails. Uncoordinatedly, he grabbed his cock, determined to get off. He flicked his fingernail in the leftover well of his Prince Albert piercing under the head. Lightning built.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” Steve jerked, staccato.
“Come on, Babe. Come on, Babe.” Danny stroked his cock. He clenched internal muscles. “Now. Now.”
“Ooooooh.” Steve pulsed, and Danny came.
It was awesome. Lightning sparked up Danny’s spine, and his legs went to jelly. Steve was an opened-mouthed statue, breathing hard as if running a marathon.
“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, and sagged. He slipped free, holding the base of his cock. “That was better than last night. Oh, boy.”
He rolled to the side, half-mashed against Danny. He kissed Danny’s nipple, the only point he could reach.
A frisson of delight echoed through Danny. Nipples had always been a sensitive erogenous zone. He’d thought about getting barbells, but piercing might have made them a little too sensitive.
“Love you, Babe.” Danny craned his head and kissed the sweaty curls on the top of Steve’s head.
“That was awesome,” Steve mumbled halfway to sleep. “Awesome.”
Danny just wanted to lie still and bask.
A nap sounded like an excellent idea.
~*~
Danny really enjoyed his shower. He felt a little chaffed. Soothing cream was the name of the game. There was an element of ‘men didn’t pamper themselves’, but Danny gave people who believed that sentiment the finger. Steve moisturised, admittedly for medical purposes.
His stomach clamoured for attention. So needs must. Earlier, Steve had padded downstairs; Danny’s big ball of energy unable to spend too long lolling around in bed. Danny wanted pancakes and bacon with maple syrup. Steve had had his aids in when Danny had made the order.
“Pancakes. Pancakes. Where’s my pancakes?” Danny sang.
Steve was by the stove, regarding a frying pan as if it was a landmine about to go off.
“Hey, Babe? Everything okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Steve’s focus was on the pan.
Danny sidled up. There was an oval pancake in the pan, a bit squished on one side.
“Having fun?” Danny asked.
“Yeah, I’m just making sure they come out right.”
“Where’s the bacon?”
“Bacon?” Steve glanced at him. “Did you want bacon?”
Danny had said bacon, but, well, it hadn’t happened.
“Nah.” Danny shrugged. “Do you wanna start on the fresh fruit and I’ll take over?”
“Sure.” Steve pushed the spatula into Danny’s hand and abandoned the pan without looking back.
The pancake tore as he tried to flip it over. Steve hadn’t used enough oil. Danny grabbed the vegetable oil and set to work. Steve ferried strawberries, mangoes and oranges to the table and sat down to chop.
“Dudes. Finally, you’re up!” Toast ran in to the kitchen, loaded down with print outs. He dumped a heavy sheaf of paper onto the kitchen table with a slap and thrust a tablet at Steve.
“Stop.” Fastidiously, Steve wiped his fingers on a cloth. Carefully, he accepted the tablet and picked up the printed sheets. Unbound, they curled over his fist like a dead thing. “Paper copies?”
“It’s ASCII print. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it on the tablet,” Toast said. “Well, I can, so it’s backed up, but the formatting is atrocious. It would have given anyone a migraine trying to read it. The oldest stuff is the print out.”
“How far back does it go?” Steve said, regarding the pages. It was as if he didn’t want to read the content.
“Have you read it?” Danny asked Toast.
“Well, yeah, I’ve been up all night,” Toast said pointedly. “The early stuff are all mission reports.”
“Mission reports?” Steve set the papers on the table, and smoothed his hand over the top page.
“I--” Toast reached out, his nail-bitten fingers scraping the sheaf into distinct sections separated by torn bits of paper. “First mission account entry is 1972.”
“1972,” Steve repeated.
“The early stuff is, I guess, your mom running around Asia with her training wheels on? That Joe White guy is mentioned. It doesn’t really get interesting until late 1974 through 1976.”
“1976?” Steve asked. “When in 1976?”
“All of it. She’s deep undercover.”
“Seriously?” Steve jerked his chin back, affronted.
Toast turned a pile of papers around and separated out the last few pages. The text was pushed to the far left side of the sheet of paper. Tiny text and numbers writhed across the pages. They needed a magnifying glass. The date on the top page was November 1976.
“Why’s that weird?” Danny asked. November 1976?
“Because my mother was four or five months pregnant--” Steve was pale, “--with me.”
“Wow.” Danny blinked. “She was going on CIA missions while pregnant? Where was your dad?”
“In the Navy,” Steve said robotically. “Mom and Dad met when Dad was in the Navy in Sri Lanka.”
“Good cover,” Toast interjected, and then shrugged when Danny turned on him. “Who would suspect a woman with a bun-in-the-oven?”
“No!” was the only way that Danny could sum up his distaste. Steve had been going on covert missions before he was born. It struck Danny as seriously irresponsible. Danny wondered if Wo Yongfu had thought that the baby was his.
“What?” Steve asked, watching Danny’s expression closely.
“What was this deep undercover mission?” Danny deflected, as he wondered when Doris and John had married.
“Uhm, teaching, bizarrely. There was this creepy school where kids were taught English. Creepy because it’s also about teaching them about the West.”
“Training camp,” Steve summarised, returning to matters at hand, even as his brows furrowed in question at Danny.
“When does she meet Wo Fat’s dad?” Danny asked, a little distracted by the training camp comment.
“She meets Wo Fat’s daddy for the first time in 1975, when he brings Wo Fat to the school.” Toast took the individual sections and started to lay them on the table. He pointed at the middle sheaf.
“So she was identifying future agents and military assets,” Steve judged.
“What? What?” Danny set the frying pan aside on the stove and came around the table. Breakfast could wait.
“You best train your agents young. Children are malleable. They learn languages easily. Absorb all manner of information.” Steve selected the papers that Toast had indicated and flicked through a couple of pages. “And, in general, this sort of training stays within the family in some cultures. A father will indoctrinate his son.”
“So dad brings his kid, and Doris identified both kid and parent?” Danny figured.
“That’s a good idea!” Toast enthused. “It’s like a James Bond plot.”
“We got names?” Steve asked levelly.
“More names than you can throw a stick at.” Toast danced on the spot.
“That’s not what this is all about, though, is it?” Danny nodded at the separate sections of paper one after another, and finished pointing at the tablet that Steve was still holding. “She would have given the CIA the names of the potential agents decades ago.”
“She did loads of stuff. Your mom was the Black Widow, Brah. Well, without the marrying and killing people. I mean, she wasn’t a spider with a history of cannibalism, she was an agent. Black Widow from the Marvel comics without the history and the Red Room.”
“Toast,” Steve interrupted, in a tone so flat you could have used it as a spirit level.
“Yes, Steve.” Toast almost came to attention. Perspiration was darkening the collar of his t-shirt.
“Are there details about her mission regarding Wo Yongfu in China other than the undercover work at the training school?” Steve said.
“That’s just like the heaviest stuff, ever.” Toast stretched across the papers, to the last of the pile and tapped it -- tappity tap. “So your mom was assigned to assassinate Wo Yongfu. He was so high up in the MFS it wasn’t even funny.”
“MFS?” Danny asked.
“Chinese Intelligence agency,” Steve explained.
“Wo Yongfu had a rep for playing things really close to his chest,” Toast continued enthusiastically. “So Doris was to… uhm… ingratiate herself in the family, steal any intel and then assassinate him.”
“Geez,” Danny could only say.
Steve was a silent, watching statue. He was sucking all of the energy out of the air.
“You have to remember that this is mostly pre-computer, and definitely no internet and easy, hackable data sources. Its microfiches and--” Toast gagged, “--notebooks. So assassinating him would have put a real kink in their operation.”
“And she failed,” Steve summarised, breaking through Toast’s enthusiasm.
“But for the right reasons, Brah!” He snatched up the last pile out from under Steve’s fingers.
“Right reasons,” Danny echoed, because, well, that didn’t make sense.
“She was gonna kill him and everything.”
“And everything?” Danny wondered, thinking, what does that entail?
“I mean assassinate him, like dead.”
“Toast, what happened?” Steve clicked his fingers, demanding Toast to hand back the papers that he was nominally reading from, but in fact seemed to have memorised.
“Doris knew the layout of their family home, she’d been there. She, well, uhm, was going there late at night.” Toast coughed suggestively.
“Continue,” Steve said icily.
“So like, Doris broke in to kill Wo Yongfu and steal anything that she could lay her hands on. But Wo Fat and Wo Fat’s mom, Lei Kuan Fat, were there. She was there and everything. The report’s really dry, but I can tell. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t kill Wo Yongfu. She couldn’t do the whole family. So she left -- escaped.”
“Wow,” Danny could only say, and then his brain engaged. “How? Wo Yongfu knows that she’s an agent, and she’s in China? How the Hell did she escape? Oh… Oh, right.”
“What are you thinking?” Steve asked directly.
“I kind of guessed--” Danny swallowed, and then barrelled straight on, “--Wo Yongfu figured that Doris’ baby was his, so he kind of let her go. He couldn’t kill the mother of his child.”
“You’re talking about my mother.”
“Sorry,” Danny said, and sat down hard on his seat.
“Uhm, Black Widow, man,” Toast said. “It’s… she used the tools available.”
“Euphemisms for the win,” Steve snapped angrily. “Say it: my mother had sex with Wo Yongfu, as part of her mission to identify important operatives in the MFS, and threats to the United States of America.”
“I’m pretty sure that Wo Yongfu’s not your dad,” Toast said, a little uncertainly.
“Clearly.” Steve pointed at his own face. “You knew my paternal grandmother.”
“Oh yeah, you and Audrey have the same eyes and that pale, dark haired thing. And, you know, same authoritarian shit.”
“So,” Danny interrupted, because he didn’t want to dwell unnecessarily on Steve’s paternity. He had seen photographs of Audrey McGarrett, and Steve was his grandmother’s grandson. Also Steve might thump Toast. “Doris failed her mission, and was identified as an agent, and essentially was no longer able to work in China. And she was also going to have a baby. She started her caches? Maybe she got the platinum from Wo Yongfu? She needed stuff to ensure that she had bargaining power with Wo Yongfu and, maybe, even the CIA?”
“Sensible,” Steve said, voice rich with experience.
“So we now know why Doris got to know Wo Yongfu,” Danny said.
Toast coughed.
“Doris comes to Hawaii to start a family,” Danny continued ignoring Toast and focusing on Steve. “Wo Yongfu might know her face, but doesn’t know her real name, he only knows her as Elisabeth Shelburne. She’s still an operative. Your dad identifies that the Yakuza are a threat. Doris is assigned to the Noshimuri family, keeping an eye on the Yakuza big boss. Wo Yongfu meets with Hiro Noshimuri, ten years after Doris failed to kill him. Maybe he’s not too sure it’s her? She’s changed her hair? She’s older. Put on weight? Lost weight? It’s been ten years.”
“And she assassinates Wo Yongfu to protect her identity and her family, and takes Wo Yongfu’s ledger and ancestral tablet,” Steve finished Danny’s summary.
“Exactly.”
“Hard core,” Toast said.
~*~
“Are you okay, Babe?” Danny asked.
He had tracked Steve to the bench overlooking the Bay of Seolh. Steve had pulled his disappearing act about thirty seconds after they had finished breakfast. Danny had only turned his back long enough to wash the dishes. He had given Steve his me-time. In similar circumstances, Danny would have had to bury himself away to decompress.
Steve’s eyes were a little red-rimmed. Tears were, however, unshed. He patted the bench at his side and Danny sat.
“Just thinking,” Steve said.
“About what?”
“Everything.” Steve turned a cigar tin over in his hands. “It’s hard to digest that my mom was a CIA agent and assassin. All this history….”
“And?” Danny prompted when Steve fell silent.
“Here.” He cracked open the tin. A collection of old faded Polaroids fell out onto his lap.
Carefully, Danny picked them up. They were family photographs. Candids of Doris and John, Steve and Mary, a picture of Audrey and a man, who Danny guessed was Steve and Mary’s paternal grandfather, and, finally, a school picture of Steve, smiling a gap-toothed smile. Family memories squirreled away in Doris’ cache.
“My dad worked with mom,” Steve said. “So he must have been embedded to some extent. They met while she was an agent, and he was in the Navy. He hardly could have been that naïve. Joe White. The Hesse Brothers. Wo Fat. I wonder if he thought I might have been his younger brother? Or if Wo Yongfu wondered what had happened to the kid who he thought was his own.”
“That’s… charitable of you?” Danny hedged.
“Your mind goes weird places, sometimes.” Steve shifted slightly on the seat to better watch Danny’s lips.
“I don’t know, Babe. I sort of assume that if you’re a bad guy, you don’t care about anything other than yourself. The guy was a Chinese Intelligence Officer cum Chinese drug boss. Do bad guys think about that sort of stuff? How does that work: agent and a criminal?”
“Just because you’re a criminal or a terrorist doesn’t mean that you don’t care about your family. Or an agent….” Steve finished pensively.
“Hey.” Danny leaned in closer. “Your mom might have been an agent, but she wasn’t a criminal.”
“Criminality and Intelligence Operations aren’t always that far apart,” Steve said clinically. “And working for the government sometimes gets you a transferable skill set that is difficult to apply in the so-called real world.”
That statement sent all kinds of weird tangents through Danny’s head.
“You want to use your powers for evil?” Danny finally asked. Surfing this conversation with Steve was a veritable mindfield. He needed to derail Steve’s thoughts; he was deep in a dark well of pondering, and it didn’t feel healthy to Danny.
“I don’t need to.” Steve regarded Danny sideways. “I don’t feel any sort of urge to be evil. I’m lucky. I have a loving and supportive ‘Ohana.”
“True.” Danny pushed his shoulder into Steve’s comfortingly.
“Come here.” Steve shifted and slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder to pull him in tightly. “This is what is important.”
“What, the view?” Danny asked, being purposely dense.
“Yeah, the view.” The bay was a clear aquamarine hue -- the Seolh blue. Belatedly, Danny realised why the colour meant home.
“Yeah, the view.”
“I’m kind of glad that we have all the answers,” Steve said. He pressed an absent kiss into Danny’s hair. “I’m glad that you found Seolh. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have gotten to the answers.”
“In all honesty, if Kono hadn’t introduced me to Seolh, you would have never even known that there were any secrets to uncover,” Danny pointed out.
Steve mulled that over, arm tight around Danny.
“It’s for the best. Secrets don’t help anyone. You finding Seolh was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Awww,” Danny said mock-bashfully. “It was the best thing to happen to me too.”
~*~
Epilogue
Danny made the last turn around his studio.
He had taken a lot of photographs since arriving at Seolh. He was old school. There was something fundamentally better about a hard copy of a photograph that you could hold in your hand. He stuffed the folder of hard copies of the photographs that he had printed out into his laptop bag. Only one of his most recent photographs had been given a frame. Danny smiled at the photograph -- Steve had fallen in the rock pool when he had been wearing a translucent, white shirt. Steve’s frustrated, furious expression was all kinds of adorable. The memory of that day was crystal -- the day that Danny had realised that he was attracted to the big lump. Swallowing hard, he carefully slid the frame into the bag, and manoeuvred the backpack onto his back.
He had his camera bags ready: the two cameras that he had ‘acquired’ from paparazzo, and his own Canon. He criss-crossed the straps over his chest, settling the blocky camera bags at his hips. All his clothes mashed into a little wheeled suitcase. The camera tripod that Steve had given him was a little unwieldy, but it also had a strap. He felt weighted down as if he was going on safari. He tucked it under his arm.
He had one hand free to gather up his photo of Grace that he kept beside his bed.
Yep, he had everything that was important.
Fumbling, he got the door open, and dragged himself and all his worldly possessions out of his hodgepodge studio. The wheels on his suitcase went clickity-click as he towed it down the corridor. Manhandling everything up the stairs was a bit of a production, but he managed. He got everything up on the top landing in one fell swoop.
He paused, took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door as hard as possible. The sound reverberated.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There was a long echoing silence and then footsteps tapped across a wooden floor. The door opened.
“Danny?” Steve froze, taking in Danny weighted down from head to toe. Colour drained from his cheeks. “Danny, what’s happening?”
“Oh, you banana,” Danny said exasperatedly. He thrust his photo of Grace into Steve’s hands. “I’m moving in.”
“What?” Steve turned the photo of Grace over, and automatically smiled at her angelic face.
“I’m moving in, Steven. Your apartment is too big for one person.”
“Oh.” Steve looked him up and down. A smirk crossed his lips. “Is that the only reason?”
“I have very specific shampoo and conditioner needs, and they need to be where I am.”
“Okay. We can do that. ” The smirk was slowly changing into a smile.
“I figure that the bedroom on this level can be converted for Grace, for when she visits. Okay?”
“We’ll have to redecorate. It’s kind of dull at the moment,” Steve said, agreeably. “Anything else?”
“Well,” Danny said, faux conversationally, as he passed over the tripod, which Steve took automatically, “I happen to love you.”
“I love you too.” Steve’s smile became a beaming grin. He stepped aside, swinging the door to their apartment wide open. “Come on in.”
Danny stepped inside.
The end
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no subject
Date: 2015-06-06 03:45 pm (UTC)Happy birthday, Babe! It's been a wild ride!
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Date: 2015-06-13 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-06 04:07 pm (UTC)Thing the second: Perfect ending. I've really enjoyed this monster of a story and I will definitely be re-reading it. Epilogue was just all the wonderful things.
Third thing: I don't think I'm ready for this to be over! Been reading and looking forward to it for what seems like forever, so it's going to take me some time to get used to thinking of The Cooperative as a finished work. I shall miss it, is what I'm trying to say.
Fourth thing (and most important thing): thank you so much for sharing this journey with us. You're amazing. *hugs*
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Date: 2015-06-13 07:50 pm (UTC)I am very happy that I have finished the story. I was pretty determined :-) It was an interesting journey to travel.
I'm tickled that you felt that travelling with me was worthwhile.
Thank you for commenting.
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Date: 2015-06-06 04:27 pm (UTC)What a giant, complex, amazing world. I loved every moment of it. Each chapter of this epic saga was something I looked forward to. I loved entering into their lives as they explored a new relationship, navigated a slow recovery, and went on every type of adventure while exploring the mystery of both Seolh and Steve's past.
There's not enough words to express my gratitude for countless hours of enjoyment. The last chapter ended on a perfect note. The conclusion (maybe) of the Doris mystery and the beginning of Steve and Danny's lives with Grace and new ohana.
Thank you again. *throw confetti*
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Date: 2015-06-13 07:55 pm (UTC)I think that in years to come, I'll look at the Co-operative and simply go 0_o
368, 774 words!
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Date: 2015-06-07 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-07 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 07:58 pm (UTC)I don't think that I can stop writing. It ebbs and rises, of course, but I've written, drawn, sculpted since forever.
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Date: 2015-06-07 02:24 am (UTC)Hope you had a lovely birthday.
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Date: 2015-06-13 08:01 pm (UTC)Heh heh: POO *g* \o/
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Date: 2015-06-07 02:41 am (UTC)Happy Birthday!
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Date: 2015-06-13 08:10 pm (UTC)it's been an interesting ride for me. I have learned a lot from writing The Co-operative.
Time stamps? flops on the floor.....
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Date: 2015-06-19 11:20 am (UTC)Do you realise that novels are considered to be "long" if they pass 100, 000 words?
Just saying- this is MUCH more than A novel.
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Date: 2015-06-07 11:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 10:10 pm (UTC)Thank you for coming on the ride and commenting.
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Date: 2015-06-07 02:34 pm (UTC)So again, I loved this.
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Date: 2015-06-13 10:13 pm (UTC)Thanks for venturing into an AU and taking the time to comment!
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Date: 2015-06-08 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-10 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 10:14 pm (UTC)Happy Birthday!
Date: 2015-06-13 01:37 pm (UTC)I've never had a hot toddy before. also never had whiskey to make one, but they sound yummy.
Toast would have given me a heart attack and made it impossible for me to go back to sleep after yelling like that...and I'm surprised he hasn't been back to see if they're awake again.
I snorted at Steve saying "hairy butt". I don't know why. also laughed at Danny saying he'll bite Steve. That's so him.
Doris's back story was much more interesting than what the show has put out so far. I will spit fire and nails if it starts looking anything like yours.
It should have clicked that Danny was moving into Steve's room, but I honestly thought he was moving out!
great great story! Sad to see it end, but now you can work on other stuff. yay!
Re: Happy Birthday!
Date: 2015-06-13 10:18 pm (UTC)I was deliberately a little evil there. In all honesty, you knew that he wasn't going to leave Steve -- that would be untenable. But for a mad second there's a moment of OMG????
After 3.5 years, I wanted to tie up all the loose ends in a neat little bow.
Thank you for being a fan of The Co-operative since day one. You've been one of the most, if not the most, effusive commenters. Thank you, I appreciate that.
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Date: 2015-06-16 03:44 am (UTC)Can you have a sequel after everything is repaired?
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Date: 2015-06-19 11:16 am (UTC)Bravo! You got there. What an amazing ride.
Writing on my tablet so this is about the limit of my commenting ability, but just know I've loved it all. This was a wonderful wrap up to part one.
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Date: 2015-07-22 06:57 pm (UTC)An absolute gem.
SEQUEL!
Date: 2016-01-09 10:56 pm (UTC)I understand if you don't want to, but if you could give me an answer, either way, then that would be fantastic.
- Dallin
Re: SEQUEL!
Date: 2016-01-10 01:03 pm (UTC)no -- there won't be a sequel. +367, 000 is enough, I think. In addition, the major, outstanding issues have been tied up.
Sealie
Re: SEQUEL!
Date: 2016-01-10 03:38 pm (UTC)I'll look forward to what you come up with next :)
- Dallin