Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my washing/bathing someone square.

Bathing a small critter should prove to be a piece of cake for a Navy SEAL.

TINY TERROR

Steve's had enough. He is a Navy SEAL for crying out loud, and he will not be ... the limb escapes his grasp, and he swears. Under his breath, but very intently. The next moment he finds himself on his butt, well, on his back actually, staring at the ceiling and wondering what just happened.

A sound off to his left makes him whip his head around. "Oh no, you don't!" Twisting his body just so, he manages to kick the door shut, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. Keeping his eyes on his prisoner, Steve lunges, arms out wide, and comes up with nothing but empty air.

"What the ...!"

Quick. He's very quick. And agile too, Steve mentally adds, as the lithe body just basically slithers between his legs. He'll have to change his game plan.

"OK you. Come here!" Steve barks in his most authoritarian voice, his muscular 6'1" imposing frame standing ram-rod straight. "Now !" He waits, arms akimbo, tapping his foot impatiently. And waits. Nothing. Even his trained eyes can't make out too much in the semi-dark room, and his straining ears can't make out ... wait ... a small sound off to his right ...

Steve tiptoes in the direction of the sound, then almost yelps as something solid impacts with his shin, catching him by surprise. Which doesn't, which shouldn't happen because, yeah, because of the SEAL thing. But there you have it.

Turning around, he scans the furthest corner of the room and sees movement. "OK, you know what? I'm tired of playing games," he casually states as he advances towards the space between the cupboard and the wall. Peering into the shadows, he can barely make out a tiny figure. How the heck did he manage to wedge himself in there anyways?

Advancing slowly but surely, this time Steve's prepared as the body suddenly shoots from the tiny space, and he manages to grab two limbs, a third flailing out and catching him solidly on the jaw. "Ouch! Hey, that hurts you know!" he grumbles while holding on to his prize.

Incredibly, it takes every effort to hold on to the small body, which is still fighting, still almost on the verge of wriggling out of Steve's grasp as he moves towards the full tub. "Stop it! You're getting bathed, like it or not!" The tiny figure in his arms starts struggling in earnest now, and he really, really needs to do his best to hang on and ...

"Ouch! Dammit ... did you just bite me?!"

Momentarily distracted by both the painful sensation in his arm and something which registers as Danny's voice - an obviously very displeased Danny shouting 'What the hell is going on up there?' from the direction of the kitchen - causes Steve to lose his balance and fall backwards into the tub, sloshing water all over the bathroom floor.

"Great!"

However, despite the fact that he's now soaked to the skin - and he really should've heeded Danny's warning that it would be better to just wear boxer shorts and nothing else - Steve has managed to retain his hold on the small body, now squirming against his chest.

Sighing, admitting partial defeat, he readjusts his hold and manages to free one hand to grab the bottle of shampoo standing on the edge of the bathtub. Flipping open the cap with one thumb, he sniffs, then recoils at the strong and very sweet strawberry odor assaulting his olfactory sense.

"Sheesh, Danny ... are you kidding me?"

Shaking his head, Steve squirts a generous dollop of the stuff onto the wet hair, puts back the bottle and gently but firmly starts to work up a lather. The tiny body emits a soft, pathetic mewl which tugs at his heart strings, but then he strengthens his resolve, thinking about his sore shin and painful arm.

"Whimper all you want, you're getting cleaned."

Sensing most of the fight has now left his tiny prisoner, Steve quickly proceeds to work in the shampoo, then rinses it off by scooping several cups of water from the tub, ignoring the spluttering sounds. After most of the suds have been removed, he carefully clambers out of the tub, then sets the small body on the bath rug, scrutinizing it.

The dark, wet curls look clean, and the dirt appears to have been completely removed.

"Mission accomplished," mutters Steve, then looks up as the bathroom door opens.

"Holy crapsicles! Did you launch a boat in here?" Danny's face wears an incredulous look as he turns towards Steve, hands on his hips. "Really, Steven. This place looks worse than if I'd let him bath by himself. What happened?"

Grunting something underneath his breath, something which most likely is totally inappropriate in the company of a three year old toddler, Steve manages to worm his way around Danny, leaving wet patches and hand prints all over his clothes. He shoots him a parting, disdainful look.

"What ... what was that? That look? Steven!"

Danny stares at the muscular back of his husband stripping off his drenched t-shirt on his way to the bedroom, then sucks in his breath as Steve drops the wet shirt on the floor of the landing.

"You're picking that up, you know."

Steve looks over his shoulder, shooting Danny another, nearly scornful look.

"Hey, McGarrett, enough with the looks already!" Danny glances at the small, wet body still standing on the bathroom rug, then turns and huffs at the small scowl on Steve's face. "You know, I carried him for nine months; the least you can do is clean him! After all, he takes after you!"

Steve pops his head back out of the bedroom, stares at Danny for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Like you said, Danno, I make a mess of things. Next time, you bathe our son!"

And with that, he disappears. Danny frowns, then turns around to look at their tiny, bedraggled looking son again. Wrapping a large towel around the small form, he hunkers down and stares into the blue-green eyes, so reminiscent of his husbands.

"So, young man, did you do like I asked and give your Pops a hard time?" he softly asks.

The small head nods vigorously, wet curls bobbing above the serious looking eyes.

"Good boy!" Danny whispers in the small ear, and grins as he hugs his son.

"Very good boy!"