Title: It's All Haiku to Me, Too

Author: sockie1000

Summary: You asked for it, you got it- more haiku! Can you say "cargument in haiku"? Poor Steve, his day is just not getting any better. A sequel to "It's All Haiku to Me."

Warning: more bad haiku

Author's Note #1: This is a sequel. You will need to read "It's All Haiku to Me" before reading this story or it probably won't make much sense. (If you haven't read part 1, you can find it by clicking on my name above).

A/N #2: Thanks to cokie for the beta.

A/N #3:

Reviewers asked for
more haiku. Just like Danny,
we are very sick.

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"I still can't believe you did this to me," Steve mumbled from the driver's side of the Camaro.

"Did what?" Danny asked, looking over from the passenger side.

"Infected me with your haiku."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Infected? You make it sound like a disease. Like I just walked into the office this morning and said, 'good morning, Steven. I'm glad you're here. Because today, I'd like to give you the haiku plague.'"

Steve nodded. "That is a remarkably accurate summary of what happened." Danny's haiku was a sickness that was threatening to take over his entire mind. Try as he might, he could not stop thinking in syllables. He knew he should have sent Danny home sick the minute he opened his mouth.

"Well," Danny said, breaking Steve's thoughts, "even if you were infected, you seem to be on the path to recovery. We've been in the car for 5 minutes, and you've yet to spout off any haiku."

Steve frowned. "That's only because I'm literally forcing myself to talk normally. You can't see me counting syllables in my head."

Danny grinned. "You're right. I can't see you counting them in your head, but I can see you counting them on your fingers."

Steve looked over at Danny, surprised. "What?"

Danny gestured to Steve's right hand. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but you're counting syllables with your fingers on the steering wheel. You're tapping to a pattern of five, then seven, then five. Over and over again."

Steve looked at his fingers. The middle finger of his right hand was pressed down on the wheel, counting a third syllable of a haiku he was trying, desperately, not to think about. Crap. Danny was right. There really was no hiding from Danny and his eagle eye. The sickness had already spread from his mind to his hands. Steve comforted himself with the thought that at least he had the correct finger pressed down when Danny brought the counting to his attention.

Steve sighed, looked over at Danny, and said,

"observation skills
make for a good detective,
but a lousy friend."

Danny grinned and replied,

"how fortune cookie
is that? Yet, the nerve to call
me Yoda, you have."

Steve scowled and looked back at the road.

"If the shoe fits, one
should wear it. And cover one's
pointy Yoda toes."

Danny laughed. "I'll have to remember that one. Next time Chin tells me to wear flip flops instead of normal shoes, I'll tell him I can't because they don't cover my pointy Yoda toes."

"Nice to see you can have a sense of humor about all of this," Steve groused.

Danny shrugged. "Like I said back at the office, it is annoying at first, but eventually, it becomes fun."

"And how long does that take?" Steve asked.

"About an hour."

Steve looked at his watch and frowned. Crap. Still 23 minutes to go. He wasn't sure if he was going to make it or not.

He looked over at Danny and said,

"an hour can last
for eternity. Good thing
I gave you my gun."

"Still want to kill yourself?" Danny asked as he looked over at Steve, amused.

"Yes, I do," Steve said, nodding. "And I'd take you with me, too, since this is all your fault."

"I hope you have some money saved up," Danny said. He grinned and continued,

"Murder suicide's
messy. Big car cleaning bill,
much money to pay."

Steve snorted. "You're assuming that you'd survive to even get the car cleaned. And that I'd survive to pay for it."

"True." Danny nodded. "But look on the bright side; I could always just collect from your estate."

Steve looked at his watch again and sighed. "You know, I never thought I'd agree that my being dead would be the 'bright side.'"

"The hour's just an estimate, you know," Danny said, noticing Steve checking the time. "That's how long it took in my case. Which, by the way, I think is some sort of 'starting to like haiku record'. But it will probably take you a little longer, since you don't have my fun-loving personality."

Steve frowned. "I have a fun-loving personality."

Danny laughed.

"Blowing up pawn shops
with hand grenades makes someone
not fun, but crazy."

Steve scowled. "I do other things for fun, too."

Danny looked at Steve, appraisingly, and nodded his head.

"shark tanks, swinging logs,
and running when not required.
none of these are fun."

"Oh, come on. You have to admit the shark tank was fun. If I remember correctly, and I do, you were enjoying it, too."

"I was enjoying my beer," Danny corrected.

"Whatever," Steve said, dismissively. "In any case,

spear fishing, hiking,
looking at petroglyphs. Fun
for Jersey boys, too."

Danny inclined his head. "The petroglyphs were ok. But the hiking sucked. Even before you took your swan dive, broke your arm, and made me pull your sorry butt all the way up a cliff. And I'd prefer for my dinner to come shrink-wrapped from Foodland, thank you very much."

Steve shook his head. "You may say I'm not fun, but you really have no sense of adventure."

"I get enough adventure just showing up for work every day. I really don't need to go looking for it in my free time."

Steve snorted again.

"Avoiding jungles,
standing on docks with towels. Not
adventure at all."

"I was thinking less of the nature type of adventure, and more of the 'I wonder if I'm going to live to see tomorrow' type of adventure," Danny said.

"You think you get a lot of that?" Steve asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I think I get a lot of that. Have you ever hung out with you?"

Steve shrugged. "Well, we probably do get into more shoot-outs than you would if you were still with HPD. And, ok, I do use an occasional hand grenade, when necessary. But that's about it. Otherwise, I think I'm a pretty safe guy."

Danny laughed and looked over at Steve, incredulously. "Did you actually just say you're a pretty safe guy? Seriously? You can't even drive my car safely. You chase down suspects with total disregard to not only traffic laws, but to my long-standing not throwing-up record."

Steve grinned.

"All records are made
to be broken. Even your
old, upchucking one."

"Glad to see you can be so cavalier about my personal well-being," Danny groused.

"Hey, if you have a weak stomach, that's not my problem." Steve smiled, and then continued,

"Pepto, Mylanta,
Tums, and Sprite; drug stores carry
them all. Want to stop?"

"I'm fine right now, thanks," Danny said. "But knowing you, I'll have to take you up on that offer. Probably sooner than later."

"Suit yourself," Steve said, still smiling.

Danny eyed Steve curiously for a minute. Then a smile spread slowly across his face.

"Do you realize what you just did?" Danny asked.

Steve looked over at Danny. "No, what?"

Danny grinned. "You just said two haiku in a row. Smiling!"

Steve shrugged. "So?"

"So? So, you're having fun!" Danny exclaimed.

"Or maybe I just find the thought of you puking really amusing," Steve offered, still smiling.

"Nope," Danny said, grinning. "Nice try, partner, but that's not it. The last time we talked about puke, you yelled at me to crack the window. So, it's not the puking. You're actually enjoying talking in haiku!"

Steve shrugged again. "Maybe."

Danny looked at his watch and laughed. "I can't believe it! It took you exactly 54 minutes to start enjoying haiku!"

Steve glanced sideways over at Danny. "Like I said before, I have a fun-loving personality, too. And, by the way," he added, turning the corner of his mouth up into a lop-sided grin, "I broke your 'starting to like haiku' record."

Fin

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