Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of it.
A/N: All I can say is that this was inspired by the movie, Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. This is AU, and features Rachel as a benevolent ghost, in spite of a rather unpleasant death. A mixture of supernatural crack, angst, and hurt/comfort, this story is not meant to be taken overly seriously, but rather enjoyed as a lighthearted story in which Danny and Steve get together under different circumstances than they do on the show. Slash, because that's how it seemed to want to be told. Also, please do not take offense to any of this. None of it is meant to be offensive. It moves much too quickly (it was inspired by a crazy movie, after all), but hopefully not in a way that is completely unbelievable.
Thanks go to, TheDogo, and csi_sanders1129, for their encouragement.
Warning: Some naughty language, and the death of a character, though it is prior to this particular story.
"Danny Williams, signing off. Hang loose, Hawaii." The blonde's dimpled smile faded the second the camera was off of him, and he transformed his shaka into a fist.
"Just another day in Paradise," he said when he was certain that his voice wasn't going to be picked up by the microphone that he'd unclipped from his sports coat. With a wave toward the cameramen, Danny stepped out from behind the counter. It had been a long day, and he had to go pick up his daughter.
"You know, Williams, there are at least a hundred people who would kill for your job," Jameson said. She shook her head and gave the former weatherman from New Jersey a wan smile.
Danny returned her smile with a grimace. "That'd be just my luck," he said. And he could picture it. Some axe-wielding hyper fan desperate to tell the news in his stead lops his head off. A single whoosh, and that's it. He's dead. Body cooling on the hot sand, head rolling into the ocean, bobbing on the waves.
"Yeah, well, people have killed for less," Jameson said, bumping shoulders with the man who'd, in spite of his sour attitude when the cameras were off, had won the heart of Hawaii through his witty reading of the news, and enigmatic smile. "What do you think of the new sports anchor?"
Danny frowned and said,"Pretty face, lots of muscles, a little short on brains."
"You really don't pull any punches, do you?" Jameson laughed.
Danny shrugged. "I call 'em like I see 'em, sweetheart."
Jameson led the way to her office. "I know," she said. "You might want to hold onto that thought, though. First impressions can be very deceiving."
"Oh, shit." The words were out of Danny's mouth before he could retract them.
Ignoring the man who'd been her lead newscaster for the past several months, Jameson said, "Danny Williams, meet your new co-anchor, Steve McGarrett."
"No, no, no, no, no... you can't do this to me," Danny said, blue eyes wide and pleading with his boss.
This was almost worse than being killed by an axe murderer. Sure, McGarrett was hot, had muscles that could probably start their own country, but he was dumb as a box of rocks. Danny didn't do dumb. Tall, dark and handsome, yes, but the package, without brains was not a mistake that Danny was willing to make ever again. Great sex, but not much else, and much as Danny would like to believe that sex made up for lack of stimulating conversation, he couldn't. He didn't need, nor want, another Mark.
"It's a done deal," Jameson said, effectively closing the door on any and all discussion.
"I'm lead anchor," Danny said. He refused to look at the other man.
"Of course you are," Jameson said. "Now, don't you have a daughter to go pick up?"
Not liking the dismissal, or the smirk on the other man's face, Danny nodded. Grace, the reason he'd left his home and family behind almost a year ago, did need to be picked up from the babysitter's.
Things had been rough for them ever since Rachel had been killed by an intruder while Danny had been forecasting the weather. She'd been watching him at the time, had never heard the man sneak into the house. The bedroom TV, tuned to Danny's station, was nothing but white noise and static in the aftermath, the TV screen splattered with Rachel's blood.
Grace had witnessed the whole thing from underneath her mother's bed. In the blink of an eye, Danny went from being a sperm donor for his best friend, to full-time father.
Grace had been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, and PTSD, having witnessed her mother's death firsthand, and the child psychologist had recommended that Danny move somewhere without long, drawn out winters. She knew someone in Hawaii who would be perfect for Grace. One thing had led to another, and now Danny was living in the land of rainbows and pineapples, reading the news for people who knew nothing about what had happened,which is how he liked it.
Between work and Grace's therapy appointments, Danny didn't have much free time, but he had this weekend off, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it with his little girl. He just hoped that it would be a good weekend for Grace, too. She'd had so few good days since her mother had been killed.
"Hey, wait up," McGarrett's voice broke through Danny's ruminations. The man's long legs made it easy for him to catch up to Danny. Rather than try to outrun the man, Danny turned to face him.
Rachel had always told him to face his problems head on. At six foot and change, McGarrett wasn't exactly a head on problem, as much as he was a face-to-chest problem.
'Somehow I doubt this is what you had in mind, Rach,' Danny thought.
Don't be too sure about that, Danny. He heard Rachel's voice loud and clear in his head, could see the knowing smile on her face, and his chest tightened with the memory of her. You like this one, I can tell. I don't think he's as dumb as you give him credit for being. Give him a chance. You deserve something good after the hell that you've been through. I have a feeling that he'll be good for you and Grace, Danny.
Danny blinked, and pushed at McGarrett's hands when the man reached out to steady him.
"You alright?" Steve asked.
"I'm fine," Danny said, brushing off the other man's concern. "What do you want? I'm kind of in a hurry."
Steve's face was momentarily marred by a wounded look, which he quickly schooled into the smile he'd used while reading the sports for the past two weeks. It was a smile that Danny, and most of Hawaii, was familiar with, but this time it was coupled with stormy, haunted eyes, and Danny got the distinct impression that the smile wasn't real, that there was more to Steve McGarrett than his first impression had led him to believe.
'Damn you, Jameson,' Danny thought. 'I am not taking on another charity case, Rachel. Stan Edwards was enough for a lifetime, thank you very much.'
Better be careful, Danny, with all of these women in your head acting as your own personal Jiminy Cricket, people are going to think that you're straight. Rachel's laughter followed him as he jerked his head in the direction of the door and walked out into the very sunlight that helped to keep some of Grace's depression at bay. Steve followed him, wounded puppy dog look affixed on his face.
Rolling his eyes at the inner monologue taking place inside of his head - something to speak about at his next session with his own therapist, or not - Danny led the way to his car, trusting that Steve, with his overly long legs and the body of a demigod, would follow. He was not disappointed.
"What?" Danny asked, impatient, exasperated, trying to ignore Rachel's voice in his head as it encouraged him to, invite the man over, get to know him. Rachel had been a force to be reckoned with when she'd been alive - ensuring that Danny didn't wallow in self-pity after breakups - she was even more so one in death. His own personal, friendly ghost.
"I just thought that we should get to know each other," Steve said. His shoulders were hunched, and he'd shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked like a much chastised hunchback. A beautiful, much chastised hunchback with a kicked puppy dog look.
"You know, since we're going to be partners, and all." Steve shrugged, giving off a rejected vibe that tore at Danny's heart. His blue-green eyes were murky depths, an ocean that Danny could, probably would, drown (maybe even willingly) in someday (if he didn't put Steve in his place right now, that is).
'Fuck me,' Danny thought.
You are so dead, Danny. You always were a sucker for the broody, insecure ones, and this one's extra tall and handsome. Did you see the tattoo on his bicep? Something tells me there's a story around that. Rachel's voice floated over him, and Danny wondered if she'd ever leave him in peace, hoped that she wouldn't. She'd always been an excellent wing-man.
"I hate to break it to you, buddy," Danny said, patting Steve's arm and trying not to let his hand linger any longer than it should on the man's bicep, which did indeed have a tattoo. "But we aren't partners. We're just two men reading the evening news together, capisce?"
He pressed a finger to Steve's chest, and ignored the way that his libido stirred at the touch, and the hurt look that flashed across Steve's face at his words. It had been ages since he'd been with someone, and he almost ached to take his new co-anchor home with him and fuck around some. It would be highly unprofessional, though. Not to mention that the jury was still out on the Neanderthal's intelligence, or lack thereof.
No more Marks or Stans or emotionally-deficient pretty boys who could read a script, but couldn't think for themselves. Danny had had his share of such men, and didn't need to add another one to his rather large, if not impressive, list.
"It's the weekend, and I've got to go pick up my little girl," Danny said, moving to go around Steve, who would make an excellent model for a sculptor. He could almost feel Steve's muscles, like wet clay, moving beneath his fingertips, pliable and yet firm.
"How about dinner sometime?" Steve asked.
Danny swallowed past a suddenly dry throat to answer, "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass or anything, here, but -"
"I know...your daughter," Steve interrupted, holding up a hand that he then placed on Danny's arm, forestalling him. "I heard you the first time. I just..." Steve raked a hand over his face and took a deep breath, as though gathering up courage to say something.
"I just thought that, since we were going to be working together, it might be nice to get to know each other," Steve said. There was a look on his face that Danny couldn't quite decipher.
"Fine," Danny said, trying, but failing, to ignore the way that his stomach twisted and filled with butterflies. "You can buy dinner for me and my daughter."
Steve smiled, and the storm in his eyes all but vanished as he squeezed Danny's arm. Danny's breath caught in his throat, and he had to take a step back to keep himself from laying his hands on Steve and kissing him right then and there.
You always were impulsive. And a tease. Drove your boyfriends wild. Rachel's voice caused Danny's gut to twist even more as he was supplied with image after image of impulsive acts that he could do to Steve at that very moment, and the sounds he could tease from the man. Sounds that should definitely not be broadcast on the five o'clock news.
"Great," Steve said, his face a beacon of light that bordered on the ridiculous. As though Danny's words had breathed new life into him.
"Great," Steve repeated the words as though dumbstruck, and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles that Danny found oddly endearing, not to mention attractive.
It hit Danny then, Steve McGarrett, sportscaster turned co-anchor, could be the axe-murderer that Danny had envisioned earlier. Steve could be some rabid fan who'd been following Danny's career at a distance (there had been others, he'd had to take out a restraining order against one crazed fan when he'd lived in Jersey) who had somehow wormed his way onto the show, earning a spot on the five o'clock news just so that he could get close to Danny and murder him in his sleep.
Stop letting your imagination run away with you. Rachel's voice was like a bucket of ice cold water poured over his head, sobering him up and pulling him from his quickly devolving thoughts. Steve is a good, honest man. He's not some axe-wielding psycho. Go out with him, get to know him.
"Fine," Danny said the word aloud, and Steve frowned at him. 'Great, now he thinks I'm the axe-wielding psycho.'
Don't be such a drama queen, Rachel's voice scolded him.
"Pick us up at seven," Danny said, voice a little harsher than he'd intended it to be as he handed Steve a business card with his number on it. "Don't be late."
Steve wasn't late. He was early. And he brought flowers, much to Grace's delight. She'd come a long way since they'd moved from New Jersey, and, though she shied away from strangers, particularly men, she no longer hid at the sight of them.
She placed the flowers into a vase while Danny hurried to finish getting ready, and even sat down on the couch next to Steve while they waited. Apparently he'd passed some kind of silent, kid test and had met with Grace's approval. A good sign, if this was going to become something more than a dinner and a co-worker kind of relationship.
Steve wore Hawaiian casual - tan dress slacks, and an aloha shirt, the top buttons of which had been left undone, revealing the man's muscular chest; slippahs completed the look, which was a good one on the man. He looked comfortable and relaxed as Grace talked to him about her day. Danny's heart swelled with an emotion that he hadn't felt since before Rachel's death.
It's time to let go of the past, Danny, Rachel said, voice clear and ringing in Danny's ears. It's time for you, and Grace, to move on.
Danny blinked back tears, and pushed aside Rachel's words as he debated the merits of wearing his white dress shirt with black slacks, or the aloha shirt that Chin Ho Kelly, friend and news anchor for a rival station, had given him for his birthday.
Your worn jeans with holes in the knees, and the Hawaiian shirt, Rachel suggested. Danny could almost see her shake her head and roll her eyes at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard laughter coming from the living room. Grace didn't laugh much. As a matter of fact, Danny couldn't remember the last time that he had heard her laugh, and it made him dizzy.
"He's the one," Danny said the words aloud, lips numb, toes and fingers tingling with the truth of the words. He didn't know how, or why he knew, or how he'd get from point A to Z with the man when they'd had yet to go on their first date and he was still hiding in his bedroom trying to figure out what to wear, like a teenager on his first date.
Go out on a date with the man before you start planning your wedding, Rachel advised, and he felt a distinct push that sent him forward and down the hallway, barefoot. He hadn't even buttoned his shirt yet.
Steve stood when he entered the room, and Grace with him.
"Danno," she said, brown eyes twinkling with happiness, and humor. "Uncle Steve said that he was a seal. Isn't that funny?"
Danny nodded. "Uncle Steve, huh?"
Grace giggled and nodded, tugged Steve closer to her father. Danny's palms were sweaty, and his mouth dry. His hands shook when he tried to button his shirt, and Steve moved forward as though floating across the floor. His nimble fingers made quick work of Danny's buttons, they lingered moments longer on Danny's chest than they should have, making Danny's skin tingle.
"I was a Navy SEAL," Steve said, voice a low rumble that made Danny's stomach clench. "Retired."
There was a story behind that, and the sorrow-guilt-regret that Danny could hear in Steve's voice. But the man masked it when he turned to smile at Grace, hand reaching for Danny's as though they'd been holding hand for years, and not for the first time.
"A Navy SEAL is someone who works for the military, Monkey," Danny explained to Grace.
"So, he's a hero?" Grace asked, voice filled with awe as she eyed Steve circumspectly.
"He sure is," Danny said, nodding even as Steve stiffened beside him, and started to shake his head. Danny squeezed Steve's hand, feeling a connection with him, even though they'd only really just met and didn't really know each other yet.
Grace hugged Steve, pressing her face against his middle, before pulling back and grasping Danny's other hand.
"What was that for?" Steve asked, voice a little husky, looking bewildered at being hugged.
Grace shrugged. "You looked like you could use a hug."
Danny felt a surge of pride in his heart for his little girl. A little girl that wouldn't be in his life had Rachel not, in her infinite wisdom, pleaded with him for months before he'd finally given in and agreed to donate sperm to help create. He was blessed, way beyond what was his due.
She's a lot like you. Rachel's voice sounded as though it was fading away, but Danny wasn't ready to let go of it yet.
"Grace is a lot like her mother," Danny said, pulling the little girl close and rubbing her shoulder, hoping that if he said that, it would keep the ghost of Rachel's voice from leaving him just yet.
"And mama always said I was a lot like you, Danno," Grace countered, a stubborn pout that Danny hadn't seen in what felt like years lighting up her countenance. "Where are we going to dinner?"
"I was thinking, that is if it's alright with your father," Steve said, glancing from Grace to Danny's face, "I'd like to make dinner for you, at my place."
Steve seemed to hold his breath after saying that, and his hand grew sweaty in Danny's. Danny could almost hear Rachel sighing about boys and how difficult they were to manage. Her voice wasn't there, but she wasn't gone completely. Not yet. He hoped not ever.
"I'd like that," Danny said.
"Can we have hotdogs and burgers?" Grace asked.
Danny held his breath, and when the threat of tears had passed, he pressed a kiss to the top of Grace's head. This was the first time since her mother's death that Grace had expressed an interest in food of any kind. She ate, but only when she was told to, and very little.
"Of course," Steve said as he led them out of Danny's house. "You want to follow me to my place?"
Danny debated getting into Steve's truck, which was big enough for all of them, but it would be too tempting to stay the night if he did that, and no matter what he was feeling right now, that was not a good idea. Not before he had really gotten to know the man outside of what he knew of him from work, which wasn't much. He trusted his gut, it had never steered him wrong before, and he trusted Rachel, but he wasn't going to take any chances, not with Grace's happiness on the line.
Steve didn't live far from Danny's place, but he did live much closer to the beach, much to Grace's delight. The ocean, it seemed, called to her in a way that very little had since her mother's death. She'd asked for surfing lessons one day, and Danny was going to get them for her, just as soon as he found an instructor that he could trust. Chin's cousin, Kono, seemed like a good bet, but he still had to meet her first.
Danny was surprised at how comfortable he felt at Steve's, and shaken by just how much he felt 'at home'. Relaxed, sitting on a beach chair beside Steve, toes digging into the sand while he nursed a beer, Danny reveled in the peace that had settled over him. Grace was playing at the water's edge, running in and out of the waves, and Danny's heart wasn't up in his throat at the thought that she'd be washed away with the tide.
Steve had a firm grip on Danny's hand, and he was telling Danny the story of how he'd gone from being a Navy SEAL to a sportscaster, and now to a co-anchor. How, when he'd first set eyes on Danny at the party that Chin had thrown for him months ago, he'd known that he wanted to get to know him. And, no, he wasn't a stalker. He didn't even own an axed, but he had talked to Chin - a mutual friend as it turns out - and it had been Chin who'd gotten him an interview at the station where Danny worked.
As love stories go, it wasn't overly remarkable, there weren't even fireworks when Steve pulled him in for a kiss as the sun slipped into the ocean, and yet it was heartwarming, and Danny suspected that Rachel had a hand in it. Whatever machinations were involved in getting him and Steve together, Danny wasn't going to complain. For now, he was going to take it one day, one sunset, one kiss at a time.
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