Author's Notes: Mari & ilna—what can I say? You guys are the best. Funny, smart, unflappable. It's my honor and privilege to take this journey into The REAL World with you guys.
Thanks to Sandy for not thinking I'm crazy—or if she thinks it for not saying it.
And to each of every one of you who have read and enjoyed the REAL World stories, sent reviews and emails and tweets and encouraging words I say a gigantic THANK YOU! Your enthusiasm and support is very much appreciated. And to all my Guest reviewers—THANK YOU as well.
Inevitable (1/1)
Danny Williams' Camaro
Saturday 9:40 A.M.
Danny stared petulantly out the passenger window of his Camaro, jaw tight, hands in his lap, as he and Steve headed across town toward their destination. Barely a word had been spoken since they left the beach house ten minutes earlier and quite frankly Danny preferred it that way. In fact, he had quickly shut down his partner's previous attempts at conversation.
He preferred to stew in silence.
"All I was saying … " Steve started.
Danny turned abruptly toward his friend and scowled. "I know what you were going to say. I …don't … want … to … hear … it."
Steve shrugged and turned his attention back to the road as Danny went back to glaring out the window. He sighed, then tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
Danny exhaled heavily. "Must you do that?"
"Do what?" Steve asked innocently.
"Tap on the steering wheel like that," Danny sighed. "It's annoying."
Steve temporarily stopped the tapping. "Am I never allowed to say anything ever again?" He couldn't keep a trace of amusement out of his voice.
"Like I would ever get that lucky," Danny grumbled, his gaze still fixed on the passing scenery.
"I was just going to say … " Steve tried again.
"I know full well what you were going to say," Danny maintained adamantly as he turned in his seat to face Steve. "You were going to say 'I told you so'. And that is the last thing … the very last thing … I want to hear that right now. Especially from you."
"I swear that isn't what I was going to say," Steve insisted.
"Really," Danny said disbelievingly. "You expect me to believe that?"
"It isn't what I was going to say," Steve vowed.
"Fine … I …I apologize then … I guess. But I know you and this really seems like the kind of situation where you … being you … would say something like I told you so and that would be very unhelpful at this minute."
Steve looked at Danny and smiled. "I swear on my honor that is not what I was going to say."
"Fine then," Danny nodded as they pulled onto the highway. "You may proceed."
"What I was going to say is that for the last several weeks you've gone on and on about how stupid it is of Catherine and me to do this kitchen remodel ourselves …"
"To clarify I never said it was stupid of Catherine," Danny raised his hand in the universal sign of stop. "I said it was stupid of you. I assume she is just another victim of one of your hare-brained schemes … as I have been so many times."
"Whatever. The point is you've gone on at length about how we should have hired a contractor and how you would have because you know your limitations and you know what you're capable of."
"All of which is true," Danny said.
"Then don't you find it ironic that I'm the one hauling you off to the emergency room with a bloody hand." Steve could barely contain his laughter.
Danny went back to staring out the window. "I think I would have preferred a simple I told you so."
Queens Medical Center
Saturday 10:10 A.M.
Steve and Danny sat in one of the ER's curtained off exam rooms waiting to see a doctor. Steve shifted in the hard plastic chair in the corner in a vain attempt to get comfortable while Danny sat on the room's exam table fidgeting anxiously.
"You really didn't need to come back with me. I think I can handle it," Danny groused.
"If they have to give you anesthetic I need to make sure you don't spill any police secrets," Steve grinned.
"First off," Danny waved his bandaged hand in the air, "they're not going to give me anesthetic for … this …and secondly we're not in the CIA. We have no secrets to protect."
"You can never be too careful," Steve grinned. It was so easy to get Danny wound up.
"You're enjoying this way too much," Danny accused.
No," Steve gave up trying to get comfortable in the chair and decided to stand. "I think I'm enjoying it just the right amount."
Before Danny could reply a nurse, who they were both familiar with from previous visits, pulled back the curtain and entered.
"Hi, Karen," they said in unison.
"Hello Commander McGarrett. Detective Williams." She looked at the clipboard in her hand that had been filled out by the intake nurse. "What seems to be the problem today? Were you wounded in the pursuit of keeping our streets safe?"
"Not exactly," Danny mumbled.
"He was wounded in the pursuit of my new kitchen," Steve offered brightly.
Karen fought back a smile as her eyes took in the bloody bandage around Danny's left hand. She'd seen the two men in her professional capacity many times with all sorts of injuries both major and minor and she could tell by Steve's relaxed manner that the cut must not be anything too awfully serious. "This form says you have a slice wound?"
"He … " Steve started but Danny cut him off.
"I can speak for myself," he said curtly.
"Ok then tell her how you cut yourself." Steve sat back down in the chair with a broad smile.
"I hate you," Danny glared.
"I know," Steve chuckled. "Tell her."
Danny turned to Karen, ignoring the look of delight on Steve's face. "I bought myself a pair of safety goggles because … well because I certainly couldn't count on Mr. Do-it-yourself to have an extra pair … and I'll remind you that if he would have just hired a contractor like I suggested … repeatedly suggested … I would not have been in the position of needing safety goggles …"
"Stop stalling and tell her what happened," Steve prodded.
"You can wait outside," Danny snotted.
"Like I told you before, I need to be here in case …"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah anesthetic I know." Danny shook his head.
Karen watched the exchange with amusement. "So the cut?" she asked.
Danny looked her in the eyes defiantly. "The goggles came in that stupid hard plastic packaging. Which … by the way whoever invented that crap … should be fired. So I followed the directions but it wouldn't open … and of course Steve had no idea where the scissors were … "
"Danny," Steve interrupted. "Karen doesn't want to hear all that. She just wants to know how you sliced your hand."
Danny sighed loudly. "The box cutter slipped when I was trying to open the package my safety goggles came in and I cut my finger."
"There," Steve smirked. "Was that so hard?"
Danny Williams' Camaro
Saturday 11:15 A.M.
"Four stitches. That's not so bad," Steve said cheerily as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
"I knew this was a bad idea." Danny pointed his now properly bandaged finger at Steve. "I should have seen this coming. It happens every time. You get some crazy idea and I'm the one … I'm always the one … who ends with stitches or a cast or who knows what else."
"You weren't technically working on the kitchen when you got cut. You were opening your safety goggles," Steve pointed out.
"Which I would not have needed," Danny argued. "if you would have just hired a contractor like a normal person."
They were interrupted by the sound of Steve's phone. "It's Catherine," he said as he looked at the screen.
She left the boys to start the morning working on the kitchen on their own while she took Cammie to the groomer for a nail clip.
"Don't answer it," Danny said frantically.
"What do you mean don't answer it?" Steve asked incredulously. "She must be on her way home from the groomer with Cammie."
"Don't tell her about the stitches then," Danny pleaded.
"You don't think she'll notice the bandage? She's pretty observant about stuff like that," Steve teased. "Hey Cath," he said as he answered her call. "Danny and I had to make a quick trip to the ER but we're on our way home right now."
"Oh God," Danny grumbled. "I am never gonna live this down."
THE END
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