A/N: I've been picking away at this story for a long time. It's not the usual fanfic, pure slapstick, really, so it often owes more to hyperbole than realism, but it is in keeping with the occasional tone of the show. It's just for fun, and it's my tribute to what I like best about Steve.

No, not THAT - though I DO like that - I mean, I'm not blind. I like many things about Steve - his courage, his decency, his humor - and THAT - but what I like best is his big, squishy heart. He seems about incapable of saying "no" to anyone he loves. (Well, okay, he SAYS it - gets it out of the way - then folds like a cheap card table and gives in.) Gets me every time. I could give endless examples, but you've all seen the show.

Remember, this is comedy. Check your seriousness at the door.

Twenty-four Clear Hours

By EDuse2

(June 2005)

1. Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

The smell reached him just as he exited the shower and he smiled.

French toast.

Stuffed French toast, if he was lucky, and that smelled like bacon too. He blotted steam from the mirror and reached for his shaving cream.

Twenty-four hours. He had twenty-four hours free and clear - no precinct, no BBQ Bob's, no dead bodies - nothing he had to do but please himself. Watch a game on TV, read his new motorcycle magazine…maybe even get in a little surfing. He scraped at his early morning beard, pausing to control the urge to smile when the aroma of fresh coffee joined the other smells. Dad must be going in late today if he was fussing over breakfast like that.

He rinsed his razor in the sink and started on the other side of his face. Normally, he enjoyed his job…jobs, he corrected himself silently…but he'd worked three double shifts this week, and when he hadn't been on duty, he had been at Bob's, trying to pick up the slack in the wait staff. Seemed like all he had done in between was come home to crash and sleep - when he slept. Some of those nights had been pretty brief.

He toweled off his face and went to pull on some clothes. If his dad was taking this much trouble over breakfast, he didn't want to give it a chance to get cold. He took the stairs in a couple of bounds. He could just make out his father's figure moving back and forth from the kitchen to the deck and gave an inward sigh of satisfaction. French toast in the fresh air. It's didn't get any better than this. It was going to be a great day.

"Morning, Dad," he said cheerfully as he stepped out onto the deck, carrying a cup of coffee he had snagged along the way. "Beautiful day."

"That it is." Mark set a platter of bacon on the table next to a pitcher of juice. "Ready for some French toast?"

"I'm starved," Steve admitted, pulling up a chair. "You have a later shift today?"

"Oh, no, I'm off too - well, I'm on call for Dr. Kessler, but other than that, my day is clear. How about you? Any plans for today?"

"Absolutely none," Steve answered with satisfaction. "I'm just going to take it as it comes. Can't even remember the last time I wasn't running on a tight schedule. I can't wait to give it a try."

"Well, maybe we can do something together, then, later." Mark disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying two plates piled high with French toast, with strawberries and cream cheese oozing out of the sides and a pristine dusting of powdered sugar on top.

Steve's mouth all but watered at the sight of it. "That'd be great." He picked up his knife and fork. "And that looks great."

"Well, I knew you had time for a leisurely breakfast, so I thought I'd do something special."

Steve mumbled his thanks around a mouthful of bacon.

"I'm glad you were able to sleep in for a change. Nothing disturbed you, did it?"

Steve managed to swallow the bacon and followed it with a generous forkful of French toast. "I don't think anything could have disturbed me. I was dead to the world. How about you. Sleep okay?"

"Oh, not bad. Considering."

Steve glanced up as Mark dug into his own French toast. The last word seemed to dangle in the air between them and the day was suddenly just a touch less golden. For a second Steve toyed with just letting the comment pass, but somehow, he couldn't. "Considering…?" he finally ventured cautiously.

Mark tried his orange juice. "The noise. I'm just surprised you didn't hear it. I'm glad, too, of course."

"Yeah. Me too." Steve spoke with finality, dropping his eyes back to his breakfast.

"But it was so loud. And disturbing. I was sure someone was going to call the police." Mark laughed lightly. "Of course, you are the police."

The French toast turned to dust in Steve's mouth. He put down his fork. "Dad. No."

Mark opened his eyes ingenuously. "No to what? I'm just telling you about last night."

"I don't know to what. But whatever it is, the answer is no."

"I didn't ask you to do anything!"

"Good."

"I know it's your day off."

Steve viciously skewered another piece of French toast. "That's right."

"And you haven't had one in ages…"

"Three weeks, Dad. It's been three weeks. The station OR Bob's. I'm really fried."

"I've noticed that. Which is why I'm glad you have today free."

"Right." Steve busied himself with his bacon.

"Of course, calling on a neighbor - in an unofficial capacity, of course - that would just be being social."

Steve reached for the paper and rattled it pointedly open. "I'm not feeling especially social," he clipped, searching for the sports page.

"It would only take a second or two. Just to make sure everything was all right."

"Dad," Steve dropped his paper to fix him with an uncompromising glare. "Any cop knows that you don't just wander into a domestic situation. It could be deadly." He flipped the paper back up decidedly.

"Oh, well, for a cop - " Mark smiled engagingly. "But a neighbor - just, say, dropping by with a coffee cake or something…"

Steve let the paper fold down again, eyeing him resignedly. He sighed. "You've already baked the coffee cake, haven't you?"

Mark smiled confidingly. "I've baked two. In case you wanted some."

"And I'm not going to get to enjoy my day until I do something about this, am I?"

Mark looked apologetic. "I'm just a little worried about the woman, Steve - it sounded very violent after a while. If I could just be sure she was all right…I'd go myself…"

"No," Steve was firm, throwing down the paper and climbing to his feet. "I don't want you putting yourself in the middle of it. Where's your coffee cake? I'll make the call."

Mark eyed him dubiously. "You can finish your breakfast first…"

"No…" Steve wiped his hands on his napkin. "I'm not sitting here trying to eat while you look worried and wistful. Keep it warm for me, will you? Hopefully, I'll be right back."

0000

He wasn't exactly right back, but Mark was still surprised at how little time passed before he heard Steve's feet on the stairs. They seemed to be approaching at an unusually slow rate, so he got up to meet him halfway. "Well, you were certainly brisk about it! How was - " He stopped dead, his mouth hinging open. "Good Lord. What on earth happened?"

Steve brushed past him. "I don't know what you mean," he drawled, making his way toward the kitchen. "I've just been paying a little neighborly call. They loved the coffee cake, by the way." He held up half of a blue ceramic plate, setting it on the counter as he turned on the faucet and let the water run to get cold.

Mark stared at the jagged break where another half of a plate used to be, then back at Steve, noting that his t-shirt had been half-torn away at one shoulder. Awkwardly, he tried to arrange it to cover the now bare arm, frowned at the long red scratches he found along the skin there. He looked more closely. "Did he bite you?" he exclaimed, stunned.

Steve was splashing cold water on his left eye and didn't bother to look up. "Not him. Her."

"Her? The wife?"

"That's the one."

"That little woman…?"

"Please. I've seen Sumo wrestlers with less heft."

"But why…?"

Steve found a dishtowel and ran it under the water, then pressed it against his eye with a sigh. "Seems she objected to someone getting aggressive with her little poopsie."

"Her little…the husband?"

"That would be him." Steve fingered the remains of his t-shirt. "I think I'd better change."

"No - wait - let me, uh - " Mark pulled him to one of the counter stools and pushed him onto it. "Let me put some antiseptic on that bite, at least. The human mouth is just full of toxic substances - "

"And you didn't even hear her."

Mark checked to be sure Steve looked likely to stay put and dashed to the bedroom for his medical bag. He was routing through it as he returned. "So what did you do that was so aggressive…?"

"Nothing!" Steve dropped the towel indignantly and Mark pushed it back, letting go of the bag for a minute to rummage in the freezer for an ice pack. He wrapped the towel around it and positioned it back over Steve's eye. "Unless you call offering a coffee cake aggressive."

Mark was sponging the bite mark clean but he glanced up over his glasses at that. "Steve. You must have done something."

"Nothing. I swear. Turns out they knew I was a cop and I guess they jumped to the conclusion that I had come to tell them to keep it down at night. I take it this isn't the first time for them. They decided that the best defense is a good offense. She jumped right on my back. Think I'm going to need it cracked."

Mark reached for the antiseptic and a Q-tip. "And no one seemed to be hurt? I'm telling you, you wouldn't have believed the ruckus."

"Well, get used to it. I think that's just the way they - er - warm up."

Mark blinked, trying to follow his meaning, then his mouth dropped. "But - it sounded so violent."

"Yeah, well, some people like it that way." Mark gave him an uncomfortable, questioning glance and he continued hastily. "I didn't mean me! Geez, Dad! I meant that I see a lot of that kind of thing in my line of work!"

Mark was silent as he taped gauze over the bite. "And you really think they…?"

"Yeah, in fact, they were already sort of starting to - look, don't make me remember it, okay? It wasn't pretty."

"All right." Mark dabbed hydrogen peroxide at the scratches and Steve hissed. "It'll only take a second. I swear, you're better about a bullet wound than you are about this sort of thing." He added more antiseptic cream. "Well, look on the bright side, Steve - you did a good deed, and - "

"And no good deed goes unpunished. Thanks. I'm getting another t-shirt."

TBC