"Steven."

Uh oh. Steve knew that tone, he feared that tone—it always led to one of Danny's infamous rants. And the use of his full name? Oh, Steve knew he had fucked up. He racked his mind for things he could have done to deserve this punishment and came up blank which meant one thing...

He had really screwed up.

"Yeah, Danno?" He finally answered and picked his head up, tearing his eyes away from the paperwork (crossword puzzle) he had been working on. Danny was standing in the doorway of his office, his arms crossed and his shoulders squared. He was analyzing Steve with a steely look and an arched eyebrow. "...Danny?"

"Do you know where I was this morning?"

"The doctor's…?"

"Correct. And do you know what the doctor said?"

"High blood pressure? Is this going to be a rant about how I've caused it?" Steve was relieved—this, he could deal with this.

Danny glared. All of Steve's relief flew out the window.

"Oh, no, no, my blood pressure is just fine, babe. However, there is a problem with my heartbeat."

"Heart murmur?"

"Oh, I wish." The laugh that escaped Danny's mouth was humorless and made Steve fidget in his seat.

"What's wrong then?"

"There's two of them."

Steve stared at Danny, confusion clearly written in his features. What in all hell did that mean? And how did that happen? Was this Danny's idea of a joke? Steve was beyond puzzled and a little frustrated. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm pregnant."

And now Steve felt as if he were dunked into a tank of ice cold water. He felt the color drain from his face, the cold sweat form on the back of his neck, how the muscles in his jaw went slack and caused his mouth to hang open, how his eyes had widened.

"That is so not a good look on you."

Steve regained some control of his bodily functions and closed his mouth, only to open it. He repeated the cycle several times but nothing would come out.

"Oh, and now your impersonation of a fish out of water. Nice, McGarrett," Danny said as he approached Steve's desk, uncrossing his arms so that he could slam a fist on it—Steve jumped back. "None of this is changing the fact that you. knocked. me. up." Danny nearly growled, and Steve swallowed.

"...how?" he asked, his voice no where near as strong as he would have liked it to be.

"I'm assuming it has something to do with that case from a couple of months ago—God knows only on this God forsaken pineapple-infested island could this happen…"

Steve was about to interject, but Danny held up a hand and continued on.

"Remember, that nice old lady whose son's name we cleared, how she said something about our deepest desires being fulfilled and black magic and voodoo and all that crazy shit. Well, I got mine—Rachel called the other day, saying something about business trips and whatnot, and that this summer was going to be hectic so it would be absolutely wonderful if Gracie could spend more time with me. But, Steven… what exactly is your deepest desire?"

"Um… to catch Wo Fat?"

"Oh, no, no, I think there's one even deeper, Steven, my boy. I've seen the way you look at Gracie, how you act around her. I'm willing to bet my life-savings that all you want is a baby McGarrett."

"Well, um, it would be nice, I guess," Steve murmured, wide-eyed, slightly hopeful, and very, very afraid. He had given up on that particular life plan the day he joined the Navy, but now that he was presented with this opportunity… well… Danny's other fist slamming into his desk brought him out of his reveries.

"Nice? Nice? You think it would be nice? Are you aware that there are these lovely ladies in the world known as surrogates who would happily have a baby for us? That you could have, oh, I don't know, mentioned this something before you decided to bend me over this God-damn desk after that case because you couldn't wait twenty minutes to get home—home, where there are condoms, condoms that stop pregnancy!"

"You're a guy! How was I supposed to know you'd go get knocked up?"

Wrong choice of words, wrong choice, wrong choice—the thought ran through his head as soon as Steve closed his mouth. Danny's confirmation came in his jaw snapping shut before he turned and stalked out of Steve's office, shutting the door quite forcefully.

The bang it created resonated through the room and died down to a dull ringing in Steve's ears as he sat there, the information slowly sinking in. When it finally hit him, really hit him, it was like a ton of bricks had simultaneously smashed into him.

"Fuck," he huffed out as he slammed his hands down onto the top of his desk. He pushed himself up and started pacing around his office, his hands wringing each other, wiping down his face, running through his hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he let out in a whisper after he had circled his desk a dozen times and stood in the middle of the room, with his hands on his hips and a panicked look in his eyes.

Danny was pregnant, and he was the father. He was a father. Oh God. He was going to be sick.