DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.
I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.
Enjoy.
H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50
Summary: An –undisclosed— incident last weekend and a suicide bomber leads to certain new —romantic— feelings among a particular New Jersey import and a very self-assured US Navy SEAL.
H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50
I Want Hold Your Hand
The ear splitting cracking sound and earth shattering boom that accompanied the violent shaking of the ground had left him in shock. Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett couldn't believe his eyes. His partner—Detective Danny Williams— had been right all along; their luckless victim really was a liar…correction, now she was officially a suicide bomber.
The woman currently imitating zombie style party confetti had managed to convince an entire local FBI office, all of HPD and (most of) Five-0 that she had been kidnapped from her bed in the middle of the night— for what reason, she didn't know— and woke up the following morning with a bomb vest strapped to her chest in the middle of driveway of the Governor's Mansion.
Every angle, twist and turn had the agents and officers more and more convinced that this woman's story was nothing but truth. That is everyone, except Danny. No matter what words came out of her mouth, no matter how many tears flowed down her cheeks, or how deep the begging, pleading look in her eyes went, Danny Williams held firm to one belief—she was a liar.
Now among the fallen debris, the scattered small burning fires, blaring car alarms and human remains the aforementioned spot-on Detective lay unconscious alongside a very vertigo stricken Carl, the bomb tech.
***H50***
Five Hours Earlier:
Steve had first insinuated that Danny refused to believe the woman's story simply because she resembled –to a great degree –his ex, Rachel.
As the hours of the day wore on, Steve's next suggestion was a teasing one; that Danny was just extremely jealous that this woman wanted to speak with him and everyone else except Danny.
"What do you expect, Danny? You're constantly accusing her of lying right to her face."
And no matter which argument the SEAL would make, which facts and papers he would present the blonde would wave them off and repeatedly mutter the following words, "Babe, she is lying."
"McGarrett? Aren't you going to do anything about your man?" Bryce Milligan, the head of the local FBI team demanded.
Steve sighed heavily; knowing that this exchange would continue on for a while; …a long while.
***H50***
Ten Minutes Earlier:
"Can't you do something about this man, Captain?" Milligan asked HPD SWAT Captain Lou Grover; his voice hopeful after Danny had continued on his protest of their victim's innocence. His mistake being that he thought the title of Captain outranked that of Detective Sargent; which would have been true had Danny Williams belonged to HPD…and to SWAT.
"Agent Milligan, I don't have jurisdiction over Detective Williams. As a member of the Governor's State Task Force he technically outranks me. If you have a problem with him you need to take it up his CO*," the Captain answered.
Having worked with Five-0 for so many years, members of HPD were no strangers as to how friction could so easily erupt amongst the local and state police force. Each member of their respective sides knew that they all had cases that affected them differently, each with opposing points of view; it was just that they all would somehow manage to find a way to embrace the 'Aloha' spirit and work it out, in a hopefully favorable outcome.
Much to the chagrin of his teammates Milligan hung his head and let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss.
A few of the members of HPD— that were in the room— actually smirked at the reaction. It was always entertaining as to how Danny Williams managed to spread his "sunny disposition" about.
"Isn't anybody going to do something about this screwball?" an exasperated FBI underling wondered, as she slammed a collection of papers down atop the closest table. Her eyes now fixated on the Navy Commander.
"Can't we just get rid of him?" another suggested. "It's not like he's been anything, but a nuisance," the second woman finished, shooting eye daggers at the blonde detective; who regarded her with a cool stare.
"Yes, will somebody please send him home?" a third begged. Presenting Steve McGarrett with what he assumed that she assumed were an adorable set of puppy dog eyes. They were, in fact, anything but. Instead they were a little freaky; reminding Steve more of a bulgy eyed frog.
The Commander sighed heavily for the twentieth, or so, time that day. It was hard enough to fight the war between the good guys and the bad guys; never mind the one where inter-coordinating law enforcement stood on opposite sides of agreement.
However, it was Steve's job— not only as a partner—to protect Danny and at least be open minded enough to try and see things from his point of view; but also as the head of his task force to protect those who served under him from being viciously attacked over differing opinions and simply not falling into place on say so.
At the pleading cries from his team, Bryce Milligan spoke once more, "McGarrett?" The rough razor's edge to his voice suggesting that he had not only had more than his fill of Detective Danny Williams, but to the entirety of this three way joint cooperation effort. When Steve promptly ignored the man and stayed focused on the paperwork he was reading, Milligan rounded on Danny, "I don't know what your problem with women is but…"
"I don't have a problem with women," Danny interjected, "I only take issue with liars and she just happens to be one of them."
Milligan continued as if Danny hadn't spoken, "…you need to stop this cock and bull shit, right now!"
The raised tones certainly were attention grabbing. "Milligan," Steve's voice was low; warning.
The Detective's face darkened, "I have been nothing but patient with you all day…"
Milligan scoffed at the partial comment before making one of his own; using his index finger —jabbing it—for emphasis, "This woman is frightened to death! And she doesn't need someinsensitive, irrational, hotheaded, self-centered Jersey cop with a Napoleon complex*calling her a liar!"
While Danny did twitch (ever so slightly) at certain words, he continued without missing a beat, "…and I haven't once gotten up in your face."
"But you've certainly been a great big pain in my ass!" Milligan shouted, jabbing his finger so roughly into Danny's chest that the sounds of bone on bone could be heard echoing.
"ENOUGH!" Steve yelled; although silently impressed with the speed and accuracy his partner had just bent Milligan's wrist and restrained his hand with a thumb tap; causing the man to grimace deeply in pain. He was sick and tired of everyone jumping aboard the 'I Hate Danny' train. Danny was Danny and no amount of effort on their part was going to change that fact; and every fiber of the SEAL's being was grateful for that.
The room had gone silent.
"You…" Steve pointed at his partner and ordered, "…let go," to which the blonde promptly responded; albeit unhappily. "And you," he said as he led Milligan back by his shoulder, "as a man in your position, should know better than to be putting your hands on people…especially without a good reason."
"Okay, McGarrett you might be his CO, but last time I checked you and your team were the Governor's little sanctioned group of rabble-rousers so that makes him yours. You won't do anything about this imbecile then I'll make certain that he will."
There was a collection of stifled snorts and smirks from HPD; while Grover said, "Good luck with that."
It was no secret that— in recent years—Sam Denning had grown rather fond of his 'little sanctioned group of rabble-rousers' and allowed them to toe the line quite a bit. Even going so far—on multiple occasions— as to go to bat for them against other organizations and groups of higher-ups as to why they were necessary to keep around and assure the masses that they were the best at what they do.
Milligan stopped for a second and stared at Grover, who simply stared back, before growling and grumbling under his breath and storming out of the command center.
Once the door slammed, Steve said, "Can we get the room." And though it might have sounded like a request, the surrounding colleagues took it for what it was; an order. Grover, HPD and Milligan's lackeys filed out, leaving Five-0's head and his SIC* alone.
"Okay," the brunette sighed, "you've been chomping at this particular bit all day, but you haven't given anyone a definitive answer; which, apparently, is going to be the only way Milligan even thinks about loosening his teeth on this bone. Why are you so convinced she's lying?"
"It's…" Danny started, before switching to, "She's…uh, well…" and then dropping off all together. For a person that was known to rarely shut up, he was amazingly silent right now. "…I'm sorry, buddy, I can't really explain it; I don't know how, but I know she's giving us the run around. What I can't figure out is why or what it is she stands to gain from this little charade. I'm not sure if she's interested in blowing Denning up for some reason or if she wants to cause a mass genocide of cops or if she's just pupule*…"
Steve smiled at Danny use of the native word.
"…But what I am sure of is that she's getting far too much sympathy, from far too many people."
"So this all boils down to a gut feeling?"
Danny looked confused. "Isn't that enough?"
"Yes," Steve nodded; causing Danny to allow something akin to a smile—though it was short lived. "Yes, for me it is …when it's just Five-0 working the case; maybe with HPD. Because while I do trust you…with these other four idiots involved, Danno, they're going to want more proof than just a maybe sort of gut feeling that you can't even tell me where its coming from."
"Steve…" he protested.
"Alright, alright, listen to me. I'll make you a deal. Let's just get this thing off of her and let this whole day settled down some. Five-0 will work the case with the FBI and HPD and you can –quietly— dig into her, okay?"
Danny made a face and an even stranger feeling squeezed at his insides.
"Okay?" his partner asked again, his tone firmer this time.
Danny sighed. He knew he should be grateful for Steve trying to have both his back and keep ice over an already heated situation, but he also wondered if walking down a forked road was as good an idea as he felt it not to be. "It could be too late by then."
"Too late for what, Danny?"
"I don't know yet, but whatever it is …I don't think she intends to see tomorrow."
Sighing deeply, again, Steve said, "She's not lying, okay?" but immediately regretted it when he saw the betrayed look on his friend's face. Yet another sigh had him saying, "Honestly, Danny, I don't think she is."
The Detective crossed his arms and looked away.
"Danny?"
He didn't respond.
"Danny?" he tried again.
Silence.
"Danno, please?"
This time the blonde shifted his head to show that he was listening, but he didn't look at his partner. At least not until Steve asked, "Can you do something for me?" then he received a glare.
At least the Navy man had the decency to look guilty at the request; he was basically railroading the one person who had never so much as left him twisting in the wind.
His voice dripped with acid as he answered, "What?"
"Trust me. Can you do that? …For me…please?"
It wasn't so much the words that surprised Danny, it was the almost pleading sounding tone behind them. However, that didn't mean he was any less annoyed; his second attempt at a vow of silence was even shorter lived this time.
"The last time you insisted that I trust you, we ended up barricaded inside your house while your little buddy 'Bullfrog' and his extremist pals stood outside— armed to the teeth— trying to turn it into a mass grave," Danny snapped. In truth, he hadn't meant to go there, but it had been a very long day; filled with annoying nobodies and a thought to be big shot from the FBI, or as the detective—privately—preferred to refer to them as: the Fucked Brain Idiots.
Not to mention they had been crammed inside this—well it was a rather large space, when it was empty— makeshift command center for hours and Danny was hot, and tired and just plain irritated. And even though it was only a look that crossed his face for a fraction of a second, the blonde could tell the comment had stung pretty deep.
"Low blow?" Danny wondered.
"For you? A little bit, yeah," Steve nodded.
"I'm sorry. I am genuinely sorry."
"Thank you."
"But I still think she's lying."
"I know."
"And you don't?"
Danny rolled his eyes as Steve shook his head, "No. I still just think you are jealous that she prefers to talk to me." However, it was the SEAL's next statement that took him by surprise, because all the playful teasing had been erased from the tone. Steve was deadly serious when he said, "I think she's just a scared woman whose fear and anxiety level is being driven upwards by an argumentative, snarky, and sexuallyfrustrated cop who is letting his aforementioned jealousy get the better of him."
Eyes wide and jaw slack with disbelief the blonde detective asked, "Sexua… frust…What the hell are you talking about?"
Leaning up against the fold away table, Steve McGarrett crossed his arms over his chest and his left foot over his right ankle, "Oh, come on Danno, I know how youreally feel about me;" the Navy man smiled suggestively, "especially after last weekend."
Bracing the table with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other, Danny blew out a long hot breath before speaking. "Steve, for the umpteenth time, what happened last weekend was an accident. I was drunk, we both were. I thought we put that behind us?"
The self-assured SEAL let out a light scoff as he shook his head. "We weren't that drunk, Danno. And for the record, I haven't put it behind me…yet."
Embarrassment and irritation over the subject were taking hold, "Steven, listen to me, for the last time, I am not gay!"
"I know you're not," he answered, then shrugged, "neither am I."
"Yes, yes, yes, we all know you're bi-sexual. You have made that unashamedly clearover the last few years. At least the whole Billy, Catherine, you triangle thing and why you weren't anywhere near the vicinity of upset finally makes sense. You want to romp around with guys and girls in your bed, go for it. I don't care, I really don't; but just because they repealed 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', doesn't mean I want to hear about it!"
"Of course you don't want to hear about it, you'd much rather be joining in," Steve winked and tossed his partner a flirtatious smile.
"Whoa, no!"
"Uh huh," Steve said skeptically, smile still firmly in place, "Danny tell me something will you?"
"Tell you what? That you're dismissing my gut? We already know that. Then you want me to do something for you; which is trust you. And I do. I trust you through every idiotic strategic military op you feel like running us through when you go off and get our backs shoved against a wall. I trust you through every case, every single gun battle and car chase and when I ask for the favor in return, the best you can do for me is hold up a curtain for me to hide behind—quietly, mind you— so Agent Moron and his airheads won't get offended. And now you want me to tell you something?" Danny was full rant by now. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you something. I'll tell you right now, I am not sleeping with you… in fact; no part of me will ever touch you…like that, anyhow…ever!"
When he was positive his partner was done, Steve offered up one of his trademarked smirks and a look that said 'he didn't believe that for one second'. "How many chances have you had to leave this island?"
Well, that knocked the Jersey boy over with a feather. "What?"
"How many chances have you had to leave this island?"
"What do you mean leave, Steve? I can't leave this God forsaken pineapple pit!"
"Why?"
"What do you mean, 'why?' my kid is here, that's why!"
"You mean the kid you currently have full sole custody of? The one you have full legal authority to take, literally, to any corner of the globe? Like, uh—let's pick a place or two off the map at random here—…oh, how about your old hometown in Weehawken, New Jersey right next door to your old precinct in Newark? Or, let's go a couple of towns over, maybe to your childhood hometown in Secaucus where your parents still live? …The very same kid that was going to go with you and your ex-wife back to New Jersey when Rachel was pregnant? The kid that you fought tooth and nail to keep here in Oahu instead of relocating to Las Vegas? A city that resides with-in the continental United States, instead of a 'floating hunk of rock without a decent slice of pizza'."
"I'm not," Danny started before he bit his tongue in thought, "…I'm not really seeing your point, Steve."
"My point is you found something else, or should I say someone else, besides Gracie to keep you here. You just use her as an excuse. Plus," Steve smiled wide, "you told me yourself, that you would miss me too much."
It was Danny's turn to sigh heavily, "Okay, let us straighten a few things out here. For starters Rachel wouldn't have had time to go to the OBGYN if I had met her at the airport and been on the plane with her like we planned, instead of me trying to get your ass out of jail for doing exactly what I told you not to do in the first place."
"The kid wasn't yours anyway, Danny."
"I could have talked her out of going back to him. I could have persuaded the doctor to maybe give her a different time line."
"You would have done that? You would have raised Charlie as your own?"
"Nobody would have had to know anything. The four of us could have been a family, it would have been fine."
"Okay," Steve said, completely unconvinced that Danny would have done anything other than what he had done; let Rachel go back to her husband and try to make it work—for Charlie's sake, "so we'll say that time was my fault. Next?"
"I already told you, Vegas is…hot."
"Hawaii's pretty warm, even hot some days," Steve argued, before leaning in closer to Danny's ear and whispering in thick, warm breath, "really hot."
Danny scrunched –and maybe even shivered slightly— at the closeness of his partner, before he gave him a slight shove and walked away. The SEAL had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he listened to the blonde ramble off all the reasons as to why the city of Las Vegas was the Devil's playground. "It's hot and dusty and it's bad influence on kids. It's a thrill seeker and addicts town; drugs, gambling, sex, strippers… showgirls. Not my daughter, no way is she growing up around all that."
"Plenty of kids grow up in Las Vegas that manage to avoid those particular life styles. Plus you can pretty much find drugs, sex, places to gamble, strippers and showgirls anywhere, if you look hard enough and if you know where to look; even right here in Hawaii."
Danny said nothing; he just rolled his eyes...again.
"I mean why do you think it is called paradise, Danny? In paradise one can find absolutely anything to make ones self very happy. But, okay, okay, okay, we'll just say you're allergic to dust and eternally bright cities. But what about now? You could easily pack up and head back east. What's stopping you now?"
Danny went to say something but Steve cut him off, "But then again there was that one other little detail, what was it now? Oh, right, you said and I quote 'I would miss you too much'."
"No," Danny said vehemently, "you said 'and you'd miss me too much'."
"Ah, but you agreed."
"I only agree with you when it's the fastest way either out of or to avoid an argument. Steve, it's a rarity we are ever on the same page."
"What are you talking about? We're always on the same page, Danno; I zig, you zag."
"No, Steve when you zig, I have no choice but to zag otherwise we might both end up in body bags!"
"So you do care," Steve nodded.
Danny looked surprised. "Of course I care! I don't want you dead!"
"So you want me hurt?"
"No!"
"Okay, but maybe you want to hurt me, huh? Just a little bit?" Steve's tone was flirty and suggestive, which annoyed the hell out of his partner.
Exasperated, "Yes, Steve, there are days when I would just love to take my gun out and shoot you," Danny answered in a 'are you happy now?' sort of tone.
Steve smiled— broadly—as he studied the on-going situation through the heavily tinted window in front of him. It almost seemed like nothing would make him happier.
"Oh, geez," Danny sighed, somewhat heavily. He wasn't sure if he was exhausted from this conversation or the day's events or both. "Do you want me to shoot you?" he asked—more than half joking— reaching for his gun.
Shooing Danny's hand away from his right hip, "Not with that gun," Steve whispered once more into the detective's ear as he brushed past a lot closer than necessary due to all the space provided by the large room.
Danny had incredulous look on his face as he turned his head to allow his eyes to follow his completely unabashed partner from the room. Steve sent him an impish wink before opening the door and walking down the makeshift steps to the outside.
"Okay, let's keep the perimeter secure. I want the bomb squad and everyone in position; I want this off without a hitch. Let's end this before anyone gets hurt…" the detective heard the shift in his partner's voice. It was authoritative…commanding …strong.
Danny felt the twinge of a headache tickling the center of his brain. Though he knew it was not the case, he passed it off as the adjective overload he had just used to mentally describe his partner. He willed his mind to go elsewhere, but found it once again focusing on the conversation that had just ended.
He noted how Steve's suave, playful voice with the rascal-esq behavior had disappeared once he had exited the trailer. It wasn't hard to understand how the SEAL had gotten away with his secret life for so long. It wasn't just the exceptional compartmentalization skills he carried; it was a knack—and a familiar one he recognized. Some were very unskilled at the task of exchanging one hat, one mask for another in the face of others. But he supposed that's what made them all so good at their jobs and the bad guys—at least the ones that weren't stupid— so good at theirs.
And it was that very fact that sent shivers up and down the blonde's spine. This woman—their supposed, luckless victim— was just as talented as Steve McGarrett in hiding behind that mask and underneath that hat.
The New Jersey native followed his partner outside; he watched as Carl, the bomb technician moved into play. His eyes traced all the way up to their "victim", the shift inside her own whenever she made eye contact with the detective. It wasn't just because the woman reminded him of Rachel; there was something else that he just couldn't quite put his finger on. He couldn't explain it, but whatever "it" was had Danny's senses on high alert; alarm bells inside his head were going off at catastrophically high volumes and a voice was screaming "DANGER, DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!" at the top of its lungs.
The more Danny stared the more the curtains on her eyes began falling away. She stared at him intently and he back at her.
After inspecting the vest for a minute Carl lifted his helmet, and shouted out, "We're okay; it's a total dummy system!" Turning back to the woman, "It's okay, ma'am, I'll have this off of you in thirty seconds."
"I'd much rather you leave it alone," the woman smirked. It was then he saw it, the look in her eyes that said 'he and everyone else standing before her, trying to save her, was a problem that needed to be taken care of and they would be—sooner rather than later'. And Danny saw it, too, because he shouted, "Carl!" as he hooked his arms around the bomb tech's torso and yanked him off of the driveway, towards the grass.
Carl felt the jolt from the explosion. The force causing his helmet to slam back down, and even through the thick padding of his suit he felt his body hit the ground—hard— beneath him. From inside his suit Carl heard the muffled sounds of chaos and confusion in the world outside; he also felt the weight of the man who had moved him out of the way at his back.
***H50***
"What the hell happened?" Steve shouted over the din, as he scrambled to his feet. "I thought he said it wasn't active?"
"Must have been a secondary trigger!" Grover shouted back.
"Danny?" Steve called out when he saw Carl rousing, but not his friend. "You alright man?" Steve tapped Carl on his arm—who nodded inside his thick helmet— as he knelt down next to Danny. Grover was opposite him, pressing two fingers to the underside of the detective's throat, announcing much to the SEAL's relief, "He's got a pulse, it's strong and steady. Probably just got the wind knocked out of him."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Carl said once he pulled his helmet off, "but what's wrong with him?" he thumbed at unconscious blonde. "Last time I encountered Danny at a bomb scene he was on the edge of sheer panic and now he's walking up to live bombs and pulling me out of the way?"
"Probably thought it was safe since you said it wasn't active; what happened?" Steve asked as he shook Danny's shoulders and tapped his cheeks in an attempt to rouse the man.
"Steve, is he okay?" Chin asked as he finished picking his way through the debris.
"Should be. Danno?"
"There was a second bomb at the small of her back," Carl informed.
"A second bomb? I guess whoever did this wanted to make sure it went off," Kono said as she walked up, brushing dirt from her hair. "How's Danny?"
"Hopefully fine once we get him up," Steve said putting more force into his tap. "Danny? Danny? Daniel?" Steve's voice was taking on a bit of an edge now, as he shook his partner's body, "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, wakey, wakey."
"There was no one else," Carl shook his head, "she detonated the bomb herself. I saw her push the button."
"What?" the mass of officers yelled out in shock as Steve hung his head and shook it in disbelief. Danny had been right and he had been the only one who had thought so. Thoughts of betrayal and the fact that he was a total jerk ran through his head.
"I'll get the EMT's over here," Chin said, starting to raise an arm. Suddenly a low, deep throated groan could be heard and the blonde pinched his closed eyes even tighter as he slowly stretched out his body.
"Here we go," Grover said as he shook the detective's shoulder once more, "Danny can you hear me?"
"Danno?" Steve repeated, before tapping his cheeks once more, "Come on buddy. Let us all see those baby blues."
With his eyes still shut, Danny reached out his hands and latched his fingers around the wrists attached to the hands at his face. The right wrist was empty, but he felt his fingers trace the intricate patterns of the diving watch on the left. He'd know that watch anywhere, especially since he had given it as a Christmas present two years ago. "Stop hitting me, Steven!" The blonde yelled out, probably louder than necessary considering Steve was less than two feet away from him. "My head hurts, my eyes hurt, my whole damn body hurts and I don't need you adding your less than delicate touch!" Danny yelled out again.
A few seconds passed and Danny was glad to be left alone in his quiet, peaceful darkness, until he once again felt a hand shaking him. An annoyed grunt had Danny pushing himself up into a sitting position, his eyes—now open—were glazed over in pain, exhaustion and annoyance, "I said stop touching me!" he snapped out.
Focusing on the scene in front of him, Danny found it odd that Steve's mouth moved, but no sound came out.
"What!" Danny yelled.
Steve said something soundless again and the detective furrowed his brow in confusion and continued to stare, this in turn caused his partner to grow a worried look. Steve's mouth moved again, and again there was no sound.
"Why! Why do we have to do this lip reading thing, why aren't you talking like a normal person? Other than the fact that you're not normal, but come on!"
Danny took note of how Steve looked up at Carl, who also said something soundlessly.
"What?" Danny shouted at Carl. "What the hell's the matter with all of you? Why is nobody but me talking?"
Chin, Kono, Grover and a few other officers all cracked up.
"What? What? You put them up to this, didn't you Steven? Well, you know what, it's not funny!" Danny shouted again as he tried to stand himself up; which only seemed to cause the surrounding audience to laugh louder—albeit silently. He felt his legs wobble beneath him, but he also felt Steve catch his weight. When he felt steady enough on his feet he looked up into his partner's eyes. Steve had a small grin on his face, but he was shaking his head 'no'. He then pulled out his cell phone and waved it.
"Your phone? What about it?" Danny wondered (loudly).
Steve held up a finger as he flipped it in his hand and began typing.
"Geez, you know I feel like I fell into that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You remember the one where those green floating demons came and stole everybody's voices?"
Steve smiled and nodded as he continued typing. It was irritating the blonde to no end that his partner (and everybody else) was refusing to talk to him, but who knows maybe the explosion caused some sort of chemical dust that had irritated everybody's throats and that's why they weren't speaking to him? Then another thought suddenly hit him, he couldn't hear...anything; not the wind nor the traffic or even the Goddamn ocean.
Looking at the mess that was once a human being, he ground out loudly. "Aw, shit! Am I deaf? Little miss human chili over there blew out my ear drums, didn't she? Wonderful! Just wonderful, none of you listened to me and now I'm the one who ended up fucked!"
A few seconds later Steve held out his phone. Rolling his eyes the detective snatched the phone and read what Steve had typed on the screen.
'FOR STARTERS YOU WERE RIGHT, SHE WAS LYING. SO I AM SORRY I DIDN'T PUT MORE STOCK IN WHAT YOU SAID OR, YOUR GUT FEELING. SECONDLY, THE EXPLOTION HAS LEFT YOU TEMORPARILY DEAF. YOU AND CARL WERE THE CLOSEST TO THE BOMB WHEN IT DETONATED, BUT SINCE CARL HAD HIS HELMET ON HIS HEARING WASN'T AS BADLY AFFECTED AS YOURS. HE SAID IT SHOULD RETURN TO NORMAL IN A COUPLE OF HOURS; A DAY OR TWO AT MOST. ALSO YOU'RE SHOUTING QUITE A BIT WHEN YOU SPEAK, MORE THAN NORMAL.'
"Oh," Danny said in a lower register, "better?" he wondered. The surrounding group of officers nodded; a couple even gave him a thumbs up as they began to disperse. "You promise my hearing will come back?"
Carl nodded.
"Okay. …Well, I knew I was right," Danny said pointedly. This time Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled and nodded once more. "As for your apology, it is noted and acceptance is pending."
Steve reached for his phone again: 'WILL HOT WINGS, SURF AND TURF AND PITCHERS OF BEER AT SIDESTREET PUSH YOU INTO RESOLVE?'
Looking up from the phone, "You're buying?"
The SEAL nodded.
"Seriously?"
Sticking his hand into his pocket, Steve took out his wallet and dropped it into his partner's hand. "Oh my God, would you look at that; there's actually money in here," the detective quipped as he leafed through the bills. Steve rolled his eyes again as he shook his head slowly; a look of mock annoyance on his face. "I'm in the mood for margaritas," Danny said.
Steve smiled and tapped his phone's screen again: 'PITCHERS OF MAGARITAS IT IS'
Danny returned the smile before glancing off in the direction of the mess. He jerked his thumb behind him, "I'm not cleaning her up."
Clearly laughing this time, the Navy man waved his phone at Danny as he walked past. Reaching for it he saw that Steve had written a new message: 'OF COURSE YOU DON'T HAVE TO CLEAN HER UP…YOU WERE RIGHT, AFTER ALL. '
Danny nodded triumphantly at the message before walking after his goofy partner.
…
"The secondary bomb was much smaller considering it location. It had enough 'umph' to take out our girl here and anyone within three to five feet of her, but I had cut the lead wire that was connected to the larger briquettes of C4 that were sewn into the front of her vest. It had the mockup of looking like a real bomb from farther away, because in a sense it was. The first detonator was a fake, but the one she had in the back and the switch was real. She had a very minute amount of C4 at her back connected to the real detonator, and then she had a lead wire connected to the front which was supposed to cause both sections to explode once she pushed the button. I think she was so focused on Danny watching her that she didn't even notice that I had cut the wire. If I hadn't; there would have been a lot more damage, more bodies and more than half of this house—if not the entire thing— would be gone," Carl pointed to the Governor's Mansion.
"Jesus," Grover said as he vigorously rubbed his head. Some members of HPD just stood around in a stunned silence, taking in the actuality of what really could have happened. While others urged the nosy public to stay even further back than before.
"I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't even notice that second detonator until it was too late," Carl said quietly after a few seconds. "If Danny hadn't pulled me out of the way…" the bomb tech trailed off for a second, his voice a bit shaken, "I mean the suit protects, but only to a degree. I've always known that possibility is part of the job, but it's still scary to think about."
The others around him nodded.
"What?" Danny asked, once again loudly; causing Steve to lift his hand to forehead level and then slowly lower it.
Catching the hint Danny said, "Sorry," more quietly as his partner took his phone once again and typed: 'THE SMALLER BOMB WAS POWERFUL ENOUGH TO TAKE OUT ANYTHING THAT WAS FIVE FEET IN FRONT OF IT. CARL SAID YOU SAVED HIS LIFE; HE'S GREATFUL.'
"Oh, yeah, sure," Danny nodded, waving the gratitude off, "He saved mine; it's all part of the job," he ended in a mute tone.
Steve smirked, knowing how hard it must be for his partner to not only not be able to hear; but also a flat out struggle for him to keep his voice this low, for this long.
'PUT YOUR PHONE ON VIBRATE. I'LL BE RIGHT BACK TO TAKE YOU TO DINNER.'
"Where are you going?" Danny wondered as he handed his partner's phone back to him. Steve didn't type him any message this time, he simply turned in the direction of Agent Moron and his airheads who had spent the better part of the day giving Danny a hard time; a wry smile etched on his lips.
Steve must have called out to him, because Danny saw Milligan turn around to face him. However, that lasted all of two seconds until Steve reared back and punched him in the mouth. He watched as Milligan went down hard. He landed on bended knee, bracing the rest of his weight with his arms; his three airheads –silently shrieking—fussing and crouching to cradle him. The frog eyed one stood up and immediate began scolding; she wagged her index finger with all the same likeness as a bobble head doll.
In the next seconds that followed, Milligan had righted himself was now nose to nose with McGarrett who was using his own finger for emphasis, but in a much less intimidating way. Steve had his finger more off to the side as he spoke—or maybe it was argued? — using more as a talking assistant; especially when he pointed back behind him in Danny's direction. The Detective had figured this little episode was all about him; he was the one who had ended up temporarily deaf due to the outcome of the day's undertakings.
And in the seconds that followed those goings-on had Chin Ho, Grover and Denning running over to try and diffuse the already tense situation. Chin was trying his hand at calming the women, Grover was acting as a shield against Agent Moron and Steve was apparently trying to rationalize his behavior to Denning. Danny had to chuckle to himself at the exchange—to him at least—it was like watching a silent movie.
Though it had started out entertaining, soon enough the blonde grew bored and wandered off away from the scene. He made his way through the crowds of rubberneckers—who may or may not have been asking him questions about what happened; it wasn't like he could hear them anyhow.
Crossing the street, Danny made the less than quarter mile walk over to the State Capital building only because he was sick of people stock piled over him. All the action had been –and basically still was— at the Governor's Mansion; here no one was around and Danny finally –for the first time in hours— felt like he could breathe. Walking past the beautiful fountain in the front, Danny made his way over towards the building's eastern side and sat on the steps beneath the large outstretched awning. He felt the warm day's breeze float over his skin –ruffle his hair— and watched as the palm trees swayed noiselessly.
Looking far off into the distance, he could partially see the side of Kawaiaha'o Church and busied himself with watching the groundskeeper mow the lawn. However, most of his view was blocked by the back end of City Hall and one of the district courthouses.
The blonde wasn't sure how long it had been since he sat down, but the groundskeeper had disappeared out of sight once more and hadn't returned. Shifting his gaze to the sky, he took note of the sun's new position and the hawks flying high overhead looking for something to eat.
The sudden feeling of an unexpected weight on his shoulder had Danny—in one swift, fluid motion— on his feet in perfect position with his gun drawn. He blinked and let out a breath when he realized it was only Steve and a few feet off to the right, Carl was standing behind him. Both men had their hands up in surrender.
The Detective wasn't sure if it was a talent he had always had or if it was a result of him being deaf at the moment, but he could now read Steve's lips perfectly, "Whoa, easy buddy it's me."
Relaxing his weapon and his stance, "Sorry," Danny apologized as he re-holstered his gun and Carl gave him a thumb's up. Steve—holding his phone, waved it and pointed at the blonde.
"Oh," Danny held up a finger in wait as he pulled the phone from his pocket and held it out in display. The phone had a huge spider web crack in the center of the screen. One of the cracks –that ran horizontal –was so deep that the phone could actually be bent in half.
Steve nodded in understanding and began typing on his own phone: 'YOUR REACTION IS JUST YOUR INTERNAL DEFENSE MECHANISM WORKING OVER TIME TO MAKE UP FOR THE FACT THAT YOU CAN'T HEAR RIGHT NOW. YOU BETTER STAY CLOSE TO ME. YOU DON'T WANT TO SCARE SOMEONE TO DEATH BY ACCIDENT.'
"So you're going to protect me, then?" Danny wondered as he read over Steve's shoulder, to which the SEAL nodded and then smiled. "Thanks, babe," he patted him on the shoulder and then turned his attention to Carl. Danny studied his lips closely as he spoke. He was thanking him again for saving his life. Never before had the Detective realized how much he took his hearing for granted. However, he did appreciate the fact that— over time— so many universal gestures had been developed by the human race to help him out. Carl held out his hand and Danny shook it.
As they made their way back the car, Danny noticed that the crowd hadn't dispersed any; if anything it had grown in size. It was common knowledge that Oahu housed nearly one million people; however, what Danny didn't know, was that it was possible for them all to fit on S. Beretania Street—directly in front of the Governor's mansion.
Carl had disappeared among the throng of people and Danny felt the occasion tug from Steve on his shirt's sleeve attempting to lead him in direction; after about the third or fourth tug, Danny lost sight of his friend altogether.
The blonde attempted to maneuver his way through the—to him—silent crowd, but now that he was stuck in the middle he couldn't really tell from which way he had come to where he wanted to go. His lack of height inside a sea of taller individuals left him standing on the balls of his feet in determination of not only direction, but to remove himself from the very uncomfortable claustrophobic situation he now found himself in…alone.
It probably wasn't the case, but it sure felt like thousands and thousands of people were pushing and shoving against him and each other in order to attempt a chance at a better view of the cordoned off crime scene. He could feel the sweat begin to bead up and trickle down his back, his hands had become slick and clammy; his mouth was going dry and his throat was starting to feel tight. Danny lifted his head up higher, took a deep breath and did his best not to panic; reminding himself that he could see the sinking sun still shining in the clear blue sky.
Jumping with a start, the Detective's hand automatically flew to the handle of his gun—though he didn't pull it—as he turned to face the source. He found Steve staring at him, with worry deeply etched into his features. Wiping the sweat from the side of his face with the back of his hand, Danny could gather a sense as to why; he probably looked a little freaked.
The SEAL held out his hand and Danny didn't even think about making a fuss over it, he just latched on and allowed himself to be lead out of the mass crowd.
Once the herds had thinned, Steve let go and Danny quickly moved past until he was inside the police barriers. He gripped the thick wood and metal rails and breathed deeply; he could feel the beads of sweat prickling his scalp. This time when he felt the weight on his shoulder, he didn't jump; he knew it was his partner's hand. He felt calm and comfort spread through him as Steve gently massaged his shoulder's edge. The look in the taller man's eyes was an easy one to decipher: 'Are you alright, now?'
"Yeah, thanks, I'm good."
Thumbing behind him and jerking his head, Danny followed his partner to the shiny black Camaro parked on the grass underneath the shade of the enormous—beautifully blooming—magnolia tree. Once they were settled in the car, Steve handed his phone over: 'WHICH FIRST, DINNER OR PHONE?'
"I'm going to need the phone."
Nodding, Steve started the engine and pulled a U-turn.
Through a partially curtained window, Danny saw Denning and his wife; she looked like she had been crying. He briefly wondered how pissed the Governor and his wife were going to be with Steve driving over their lawn. When he looked again they were hugging and he was rubbing her back; so the blonde decided that because of the day's events they would more than likely be given a free pass. He chuckled quietly to himself, thinking as to how Denning gave them an awful lot of those. Especially considering how he—in the beginning—threatened to bring the hammer down hard on them, well Steve, if any of them so much as stepped out of line.
Steve continued to drive over the grass, until Danny realized they were now on the property next door. Pulling the wheel to the right and slowing the car down had them slowly bouncing over a curb and onto pavement. Another two right hand turns and the blonde noticed they were on Punchbowl driving past the fork in the road that branched off into King St where a little ways off, the property that sat in the center was home to none other than The Palace.
"You know," Danny said as they waited for the traffic light at the corner, "I've been here seven years and I didn't even know that that was back there, or that this went in a huge circle."
Just as the light turned green, Steve dropped his phone into Danny's lap. Picking it up, he read the message on the screen: 'THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS I CAN TEACH YOU, DANNO ; )'
"Oh, so we're still on that I see?"
Steve only smiled, but the more Danny studied his partner's face the more he recognized the look.
"Oh, no. No, no. Wipe that look off your face."
Steve shrugged and the look changed for a brief moment to a second before switching back. Danny recognized the secondary look as: 'What look?'
"That's the look you have when already know what's going to happen, that's 'I know everything' face. You don't know what's going to happen."
Steve shrugged again, but the smile crept up on his lips.
"You don't know what's going to happen," Danny repeated.
This time Steve shrugged his eyebrows.
"No," Danny said, shaking his head.
However, Steve's grin seemed to remain permanent as he kept his eyes trained on the road in front of him.
***H50***
One Week Later:
"What the fuck is a 'half virgin'*?" Danny queried. The conversation he and Steve had been having over lunch suddenly taking an interesting turn.
Steve bit back a laugh at the look on his friend's face. "It's," he started, a light laugh breaking through, "a general term that has different meanings to different people."
"So it's context variable?"
"Basically," Steve nodded.
"Sum it up for me babe," Danny made a circular motion with his finger, "generally."
"Okay," he said, taking a swallow of his long board. "A half-virgin can be an individual who has only had oral sex, but not penetrative. Or it can be penetrative, but only anal; however the whole difference between the sexes could potentially come into debate over that one. You know…"
"I got it," Danny said holding his hand up in a stopping motion. "We're in public and there are kids running around," he said looking up and down the boardwalk. "Keep your voice down."
Leaning in, Steve lowered his voice, "Then there are hand jobs and fingering; again no penetration, but that can also be classified as entering petting territory so…" Steve trailed off for a few seconds to take a swallow from his beer.
"Or foreplay," Danny filled the silence. The hint of a smile coupled with the look on his face clearly displaying he was lost in some once upon a time romantic affair.
Meeting the man with a smile of his own, the brunette wondered, "Whoa, where did you just go? Anywhere fun?"
"Heh," he laughed, before coming to. "Oh, yeah. …a long time ago."
Nodding, Steve patted the man on his shoulder before continuing,"…And then it can also refer to a person who has only had sex with members of their own sex but not the opposite or someone who has had sex with members of the opposite sex, but not their own. …General enough for you?" he wondered and then had to laugh, again, at the look on his friend's face.
"Uh…Uh huh. Okay." Danny said slowly, nodding, "Okay…I mean I remember high school and college. I remember having sex in high school… and in college…a lot of sex," he said as Steve chuckled and nodded along with him. "But what I don't remember is…any of this half and half BS. When it came down to it, you either were or you weren't; end of."
Steve laughed again. "Yeah, but Danny you have to remember that was the nineties, buddy and then you got married for a while. You were literally benched from the game for what five, seven years? A new millennium rolled in and so did a whole new set of guidelines to play by."
"Great!" Danny smiled, however, unenthusiastically.
"You know," Steve said, "there might be some people out there today who might think you're a little weird."
"Eh." Danny shrugged. "We're all a little weird and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours we join up with them; and fall into a mutual weirdness and we call it love."
"Well, thank you Theodor Geisel*."
Danny snapped his head in Steve's direction. "You know who Theodor Geisel is?"
"I do."
"I'm impressed."
"Why?"
"I just never pegged you for the type to enjoy Green Eggs and Ham."
"Huh," Steve bit his tongue for a second, before saying, "the same could be said about you."
"What?" Danny looked at him. "I love Green Eggs and Ham."
"Really?" Steve smiled.
"Yes," Danny said, "really, why?"
Steve's smiled turned into a little open mouthed grin as he quirked an eyebrow. It took a second, but the Detective finally understood what the SEAL was referring to and rolled his eyes. "Yet another children's story ruined; thanks a lot," he said taking a swallow of his beer. Steve laughed.
"I'm still not going to sleep with you."
"Okay," Steve nodded.
"I'm not!"
"O-kay," Steve said again, firmer this time. "Message received, I get it. Some people just can't handle the idea. It's too weird for them."
"It's not weird…" Danny answered, "…it's just…" then trailed off.
"New territory?" Steve suggested into the dead air.
Danny couldn't believe it; he was at a loss for words. "…weird," he finished lamely.
The Navy man quirked an eyebrow and a contemplating –silent— Danny turned his attention to the roiling sea.
***H50***
Three Weeks Later:
It had been one month since the aforementioned 'last weekend' incident that had gotten the ball rolling in the first place. And now it had been exactly thirty thousand two hundred and forty minutes since Danny and Steve's first conversation in the command center, their long gone suicide bomber; their second conversation and their third.
In truth, Danny couldn't stop thinking about any of it. The idea of physically romping around with not only his boss, but the man he considered to be a really, really good friend and a brother at such a deep, personal, romantic level intrigued him.
Leaning against the railing at the edge of Paradise Pier, the detective checked the time on his phone; it was almost ten after four. Steve had said that his meeting with Denning would be over by four and that he would meet him at the footpath that lead to the beach.
"Oh, well, sometimes things run late," Danny said to himself as he turned to look out at the sand and the people who occupied it.
He saw a group of eight guys—probably about five, ten— two of them— maybe fifteen years younger than him—off to the right, playing volleyball. Studying them, he took note that they were all in good shape, though, one of them appeared to be in much better shape than the others.
He was one of the ones closer looking to the Detective's age; he was tall with a finely chiseled broad chest. He had deeply etched abs, tight thighs, and firm bulging calves. His arms were so toned that even his muscles ribs showed though his very eye-catching sun kissed skin. And his hands, they were incredibly large and looked like they had a hell of a grip to them.
Danny couldn't, however, get a good enough look at his face to tell if it matched the rest of him. The man's dirty blonde locks stuck out a bit from beneath his baseball cap; and his dark sun glasses were so large that they managed to swallow up almost his entire face. All that could really be seen was the very tip of his nose, his square looking chin and what appeared to be a set of very full looking lips. To which the New Jersey native found himself pondering if they were at all soft and kissable.
Now he wondered; did this make him gay?
However, his own question was answered when his eye caught a look at a very striking woman walking by with a perfectly heart shaped ass crammed into a bikini bottom that was two sizes too small for her.
'Nope, definitely not,' he thought to himself.
Danny's chiseled volleyball player also seemed to notice her. The player's hound-like reaction to her passing and his displayed behavior as he strutted over to – as his grandmother used to say when he was little— 'rap' to her had the Detective thinking one thing; that the player was a complete and total douche bag.
A very attractive looking one, but a douche bag nonetheless. Danny now wondered how often that particular behavior got the volleyball player into trouble.
Glancing elsewhere on the beach, the blonde now noticed a male surfer coming to shore. Righting his board in the sand, he began to strip his bodysuit to reveal a body that showed years of practice and perfection on the waves. The man's hair was dark and close cropped to his scalp with a delicate –for a man—looking nose and high risen cheekbones all of which were highlighted beautifully by his dark mocha skin. His lips, Danny felt, weren't quite as nice-looking as the volleyball players, but seemed to fit him and, ironically enough, looked to be very kissable.
Danny jumped with a start at the weight that unexpectedly appeared on his shoulder.
"Hey, are you okay?" Steve asked.
"Well, you damn near gave me a heart attack," Danny snapped, "but other than that, yeah, I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because I called your phone three times and when I finally found you, I was standing less than ten feet away calling your name and you didn't even hear me."
Confused, Danny fished for his phone—which now read twenty after six— and found the problem, the ringer was off. "I must have accidently put it on silent," he said showing his friend the phone and the little bell on the screen with the X over it.
"Okay," Steve accepted, "but how come you didn't hear me calling your name from ten feet away?"
Danny made a face. "It's noisy out here, Steve. The ocean, the breeze…people?"
"Maybe we should take you back to the doctor?"
"Babe, listen, I got my hearing back. The doc said that it's never going to be one hundred percent, but it is well within the normal range for a person my age. Okay?"
"You're sure?"
"Scout's honor."
"Danny, they kicked you out of the boy scouts."
Rolling his eyes, Danny sighed. "Steve, I've got my hearing back and its fine, I promise. I was just…distracted."
"And it's noisy out here?"
"And it's noisy out here," Danny nodded in affirmation.
"So what had you so distracted that you forgot all about me?" Steve asked.
Danny froze. "Oh…um…you know, just people watching."
"People watching?"
"Yes, Steven, people watching; it's what I do, I am a detective, after all."
Steve leaned against the railing and looked out over the beach. Aside from a small group of volleyball players, a few scattered sleeping sunbathers, and some straggling surfers on the waves, most of the day's patrons had converged upon the pier's small little side shops for dinner and such. "What's so interesting about these people?"
"I don't know," Danny shrugged. He hadn't, at all, been prepared for Steve to sneak up on him. Hell, he hadn't even been prepared to get so lost in his head the way he had.
Steve was now eyeing the volleyball players. "Well, there had to be something so interesting to catch your attention that you all but dropped off the planet before."
"They're not shooting at me?" he suggested.
Shrugging his eyebrows, Steve nodded. "I guess that is a good reason. …You hungry?"
"I could eat."
"So you want to…?" Steve thumbed behind him in no real particular direction.
"Uh…yeah, okay."
"So what happened to you? You said four o'clock."
"Denning had an important phone call that he needed to take, so I had to wait. Sorry, I did try and call you."
"I'm still getting used to this phone, Steve."
"Its fine, you just had me worried, that's all."
"Yeah, worried you wouldn't have access to my car anymore."
"Danno, now you know that's not true."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks for worrying."
"You do the same for me….frequently."
"Yeah," Danny nodded and both men laughed.
The volleyball players had come up from the beach. And Danny's chiseled player was so busy being a show off that he didn't even notice he brushed by –rather roughly— between the two men until one of the other players called him on it.
Turning, he had a surprised look on his face. "Oh, hey, I'm sorry bros…" he started.
Taking a glance at his partner, Danny noticed the way Steve looked at the man. He could see the interest –that was most likely pure lust—deeply hidden in his eyes. Steve's less than three second concentration ended and he returned the look at Danny. Both of them hearing the extremely out of place Bostonian accent coating his words; and the use of the term "bros" instead of "brahs" against the Island backdrop.
"…I swear I didn't see you there."
Danny waved the incident off, while Steve said, "it was an accident."
Then something occurred to Danny and he just had to see if it would work. "You know," he said, "it's probably the sunglasses…the sun's setting now, it's not like you need them anymore."
Steve refrained from furrowing his brow. He couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had seen Danny wear his sunglasses until it was practically pitch black outside.
Through the onyx lenses, the partners could feel the player's eyes travel to the gold shields on their belts and the holsters that housed their 9mm's. Pulling off his dark shades, the Bostonian revealed a nice set of greenish amber colored eyes and Danny thought that they matched him perfectly. And that's when it hit Steve; Danny hadn't been unresponsive before because of his hearing, he was just entranced.
"You're absolutely right," he said, "I think I can see much better now."
Though he had a polite smile on his lips, inwardly, the Detective groaned and cursed himself. He had sensed a certain air about this particular guy, but couldn't quite put his finger on it; now he knew. It was like someone had pressed some sort of internal button, switching out the ostentatious behavior for one laced with debonair*-charm and just a hint of playfulness. He was a smooth-talker, or, if he would have lived in the Nautical universe, a smooth-dog.
"We cool bros?" the Bostonian asked, holding up both of his hands for a high five.
Danny had thought he had seen something shift in the brunette's eyes, but whatever it was, was gone now; so he put his own hand up saying, "Yeah," while he heard Steve say, "Absolutely."
"Alright, later bros," the player waved as he jogged off to join his friends.
"Hmph," Steve huffed as they walked along a –now—more deserted section of the boardwalk.
"What?" Danny wondered, though he already had a feeling as to what his partner was going to say.
"What a douche bag."
Danny bit back a laugh as he smiled. He now understood shift he had seen in Steve's eyes a few seconds ago. The lustful attraction he had had before, had now disappeared completely simply because the Bostonian volleyball player had kept opening his mouth. However, Danny felt compelled to agree. After all, he had had similar thoughts earlier; but why not have a little fun first?
"Really?" Danny replied, a teasing tone to his words, "I thought he was rather charming."
"Seriously?" Steve whipped his head around in disbelief. He saw his friend shrug and wiggle his hand in a motion that clearly stated he was on the fence. "Seriously?" he asked again. "He's more your type? Him?"
"Well, he had something going for him…" Danny said, before smiling at the look on the SEAL's face, "…you know, had he stopped at the apology and just walked away."
Steve seemed to accept that and then asked, "What was it that he had going for him?"
"He just reminded me of someone, that's all."
"Who?" Steve wondered.
"Oh… just 'the good looking guy from high school who knows he cute and won't take no for answer'," he said, repeating a line from an interesting little story Chin had—a long time ago— told him about Cath and Steve.
"Oh, ouch, that's hurtful, Danno," Steve answered. He even grabbed at his heart for dramatic effect, until he realized what he actually said. "Wait, what?"
But Steve didn't get a response right away, because now all Danny was thinking was that it would have made one hell of a ménageà trois*. It sounded and felt wrong in the rightest way possible.
Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed Steve's hand. Steve looked down at his own hand encased in his partner's before he continued looking at Danny with slight confusion. "I thought you said you got your hearing back?"
"I did…it's just that, you know, it's not like it was before…it still goes in and out every so often and...There are so many people out here…you know…it's crowded and…," Danny trailed off as Steve now looked around at the virtually desolate location they were standing in, before looking back—eyebrow quirked—staring. Danny shifted a bit on his feet, licked his lips and said, "…and maybe I just want hold your hand."
A few more seconds of staring passed. Danny was about to pull his hand away and say for them to just forget about it when Steve shifted his fingers—entangling them with the blonde's; tightening his grip. A smile spread over his lips as he nodded and said, "Okay."
Walking off, the SEAL towed the New Jersey man along when he suddenly complained, "Why does it always have to be this way?"
Stopping short, he wondered, "What way?"
"This way…your way; why do you always assume that I'llfollow you?"
"Okay," the brunette granted, "which way do you want to go?" He could see the gears turning in his partner's head, weighing ideas and options and maybe even possible outcomes to the nth degree. To say that the SEAL was anything less than proud would have been an understatement.
The blonde shifted on his feet once more and when he licked his lips this time, the action seemed even more nervous than when he did it before. Opening his mouth to speak, Steve could tell that Danny was unquestionably going to say something completely different than, "No…that way is …fine...let's go," but he hesitated a second too long and lost his nerve.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," the blonde assured, but even he didn't seem convinced that that is what he wanted to say. Not wanting to push the subject Steve went on his way, this time slowing his stride and keeping step with his friend. When all of a sudden Danny stopped, "You know what? No," and changed direction, pulling the taller man behind him at a pace he needed to jog to keep up with.
"So, where are we going?" Steve wondered.
"Um, I'm not entirely sure just yet," Danny answered. "But let's see how good of a boy you can be…and maybe if you're lucky, I might even shoot you."
The wink his friend had just sent him had Steve for the first time not only playing the part of the instigatee, but extremely excited to do so, "Lead the way my little half virgin."
***H50***
Eleven Months Later:
"You do have Napoleon complex, you know?" Steve said, one night, out of the blue.
"That is a definite possibility," Danny conceded. Pushing his weight over and using it to pin his partner beneath him on the bed, "And you, my friend," he smiled, "have a superiority complex*."
"I do not," Steve answered while trying to regain control of the situation; "Uh…" he looked above himself to assess his predicament. Fingers laced with his blonde haired companion, his arms were pinned above his head. And when he tried to move his legs or even his hips, the SEAL found he was met with great restriction. The Detective had him so neatly pinned, that the Navy man was surprised to find that he couldn't move.
Danny chuckled victoriously as the brunette tried, once more, to free himself.
Looking up into the eyes of the man holding him to his spot, Steve saw them twinkle despite the messy blonde locks falling into his eyes. "Huh," Steve breathed out, finally realizing he wasn't going anywhere. The blonde pumped his eyebrows and smiled triumphant. "Are you starting to wonder if you taught me one move too many?" he asked.
"Heh," Steve clucked; a slight bit uneasily, "A little…maybe."
"Shhh," the blonde shushed him. "It's okay, it's me babe," he told him as he bent his head down, "You know I don't bite," he whispered next to the brunette's ear before planting soft kisses along the skin of his inner neck and towards his throat.
Steve's reply was a shuttering, barely audible whisper, "Pity," and he felt Danny's mouth smirk into his skin.
"I know you do," Danny said facing him, "but I don't," he whispered. The SEAL's response was to snap his head forward, bearing his teeth, to gently catch his partner's lower lip*. Feeling the sting from the graze of his partner's teeth against his inner lower lip, the Detective took the playful action as an invitation to come closer; their lips meeting for sweet, gentle kisses.
When he came back up for air, Danny was smiling a mischievous smile. "I know the debate of top versus bottom is going to comeup; and it's going to be hard for you…" he winked, "…because you're going to lose." A beat of silence passed and the blonde smirked once more, "So very, very hard," he whispered, his lips hovering over the brunette's a second before crashing down in a deep, hungry attack.
However, Danny had been lucky enough to see Steve's face in that second; and the look was nothing but pure elation.
H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50
Muse's Notes:
1. Asterisk Index:
*CO: A shortened form of the title Commanding Officer; is the individual in charge of an assigned unit. The CO has full authority and control over any underling in said unit and any situation that falls under an assigned jurisdiction; unless otherwise stated by a higher up. CO's tend to be given wide berths in running their unit as the assigned individual sees fit; providing it is within the confines of the law (refers to both civilian and military law). CO's by and large assign an SIC [see below] of their choice; assignments and responsibilities can also be passed along to this individual. The SIC becomes the acting CO should the formal CO be unavailable for any reason.
*Napoleon Complex: A psychological behavior that is said to exist in men of just or below average height; though it is believe to be more common in individuals who have been badgered as a direct result of their stature. This behavior is normally characterized by hostility and aggression towards others; or in an attempt to display dominant behavior around newcomers or in social settings.
*SIC: Shortened initials making reference to one of two separate titles, depending on context: Second in Command or Special Agent in Charge. In this particular story setting, it makes reference to the former and not the latter. The title can also be displayed as 2i/c or XO (Executive Officer), depending on the authoritative branch [i.e. Police Force v. Military].
*Pupule:Hawaii's native tongue for the word 'Crazy'. [Pronounced "Poo-Poo-Lay"].
*Half-Virgin: {See basic explanation in above story}. I for some, unknown, reason felt strongly compelled include this little turn-a-phrase. I have absolutely no idea if the term half virgin (or, the half virgin thing—for those who follow the credence) even applies to bi-sexuals or even to people who are bi-curious. However, that particular idea just seemed to fit in so well with my story that I just latched on and ran with it. So, take it with a grain of salt, if you will.
*Theodor Geisel: Also known as, the one, the only Dr. Seuss. What can I say besides, "Yep, I went there." And before you even go there—as to how I could even make reference to a children's story in that particular manner— let me just share the fact that some children's stories, nursery rhymes, even cartoons had death and sexual undertones to them long before I even got my hands on them. However, I do not recall finding anything of the sort inside any of the Dr. Seuss books I have read, but I haven't read them all. As for the green eggs and ham tidbit, I think it was just a happy accident from my –occasionally— dirty little mind ; p
* Debonair: An individual who dresses or acts in a certain manner (a usually well-practiced skill) –dependent on a situation— more often than not, for their own benefit. Their appearance and attitude would often times be considered extremely attractive, confident, courteous, gentle, suave, sophisticated, urbane; very lighthearted and nonchalant.
A person like this has a strong possibility of being very dangerous or very risky to others, but not necessarily in a violent manner. They can be considered very talented grifters (con-artists).
* Ménage à Trois: A French term literally meaning "Household of Three". Originally the phrase was used to describe three romantically (sexually) involved individuals that resided within the same household; i.e. shared a life together. As with many words and phrases over time, it's literal meaning— as with most foreign language words— is not common knowledge, but rather its gist [sense of] instead. Nowadays, it is often used interchangeably with the term "Threesome"; which usually makes reference to three individuals taking part in just a sexual encounter.
*Superiority Complex: An internal defense mechanism an individual uses to outwardly project airs of superiority in an attempt to conceal or deflect feelings of inferiority and insecurity. It can also be speculated that the need for constant and complete control over any and all situations, also stems from this particular type of behavior.
*Lower lip: Quick tip— make certain that you time that right, otherwise you can really hurt your forehead, your nose, your mouth and your chin. In other words you can knock your noggin pretty well; and really—I promise—it's only funny the first time it happens…*slight blush followed by slight embarrassment*.
2. Inspiration for this story came from listening to my mom's old Beatles .45's and watching reruns of Five-0. I decided to change the drinks in the story to Margaritas in honor of Danny's favorite drink; as stated by his character in Ki'ilua (2.10).
As far as records go, the scratching is a bit annoying to my ear, as do I prefer the clean sounds of the audio CD or MP3 file. Which in reality is really removing at least half the song when it plays, creating the ability to cram so many of them onto one small space; but to each their own, right? Though it is kind of cool to listen to music how it used to be, instead of the mainstream media way we have today. On the other hand it is really annoying to have to get up and change the record when you want to hear something new. MP3's have made music life so simple.
However, funnily enough, hard drive's and records players still work almost exactly the same, even though so much time separates their existence. One wrong bounce or a really bad jolt and that needle goes haywire and scratches your disk, potentially running it forever.
3. I am going to be completely honest with you guys.
For starters, this was not the first Danny/Steve centered slash story I have come up with, however, I haven't written any of the, uh, "fun" stuff yet for the other one; it's more just a list of bullet points. But it is the first one I am posting because…well, it's finished.
Also, I've never written a sex and/or sensual scene before, let alone one between two men; so, uh, here's to me tossing my hat into the ring for the first time : D
Secondly, I never intended for this story to get quite this deep, it was just supposed to be a cutesy ficlet about hand holding. As you can see, it sort of plowed out of control.
As always, you do not need to leave a review on my story if you do not wish to do so. All members can feel free to PM if they have any comments on—or would like to discuss— the scene or anything else about my work(s). All members can feel free to email me at: shakespeareismymuse….hot mail (one word, fanfic will not let me insert it as one word)...to do the same. All I ask is for you to write something in the subject line; preferably pertaining to the (a) story, so if you end up in my junk-mail folder you will not be deleted by accident : )
H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50H50
-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.
-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.
-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.
Love, Hugs, and Kisses,
Muse : )