"How bad?" Steve demanded, falling to his knees next to Danny. He'd taken out the last of their pursuers, clean, two to the chest and one to the head. He'd noticed Danny had been lagging behind, but didn't think of it until Danny had crashed into the underbrush and stayed down.

"Are you hit?" Steve's hands were frantic, pulling off Danny's vest and running over his ribs. One of his hands came back bloody. "Shit, right under your vest. Why the hell didn't you say?"

"Couldn't - stop," Danny grunted. "Not with those - assholes - on our asses. Assholes - on - asses. That's where they - usually go."

"Danny, hold on, I'm calling for help," Steve said, grabbing for his phone. A frantic call to Chin with coordinates and then his attention was back on Danny. He rummaged through his pack and put a pressure bandage on the wound.

"Exit?" Danny grunted, panting through the pain.

Steve bit at his lip. "Don't see one."

Lightning sparked across the sky, thunder a split-second later.

"Great. Now the - island itself - is out to - kill me," Danny said.

"I've got to get you into some shelter," Steve said. "Hang on.."

Danny bit back a cry of pain as Steve wrangled him under an outcropping of rocks.

"Sorry, sorry, Danno," Steve murmured. He grabbed some items out of his pack, then folded it and placed it under Danny's head, propping Danny's feet up slightly on his own pack. Cracking open a water bottle, he held it to Danny's lips. "A few sips, come on, drink a little for me. Chin's going to have a chopper out here in no time, we'll get you to the hospital, get you patched right up."

"In - this weather - right," Danny said. "Steve - I can't - I have to get out -"

"Hey, look," Steve said, rubbing his arms gently. He bent and pressed a soft kiss to Danny's forehead, drawing his panicked eyes away from the low rock. The last thing they needed was for Danny's claustrophobia to be triggered. "Focus on me, Danny, just me."

"Can't - distract me - with sex at - the moment," Danny said.

"Yeah? Well, that's a shame," Steve answered. "I'll have to think of something else to distract you with, I guess."

"You could - tell me about - how you and - K'no - were - knocking boots," Danny said. "Back before - we got our heads - out of our asses."

Steve gaped at him.

Danny laughed, then groaned, pressing his hands to his side. "What? I'm - a detective."

"But, I -"

"Steven. You - thought we didn't - know? Babe. We - knew. 'S'okay. I'm just - curious. Humor me."

Steve shook his head. "I swear, Danny, I never-"

"Didn't -take advant'ge. Nev'r thought - you did."

"I didn't intentionally mislead you, either, I just . . ." Steve trailed off. "You know Kono. You work with Kono. It just . . . I didn't feel like it was my place to tell you. It's always bothered me, felt like I was keeping something from you but . . ."

"But you're an - officer and - gentleman. I get it. Come on - distract me."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face and glanced out at the darkening sky. He would fly through the storm - he would fly through hell and back for Danny - but in all likelihood, it would ground any other sensible pilots.

Danny's eyes had drifted closed.

"Hey, hey, okay," Steve said. He hunkered down next to Danny, leaned his body weight against the wound. He knew from experience he could keep the steady pressure up for hours, if he had too.

Get us some help out here, Chin, come through for us, he thought. He smiled down at Danny. "We hadn't been a team but for a couple months. I was still trying to get my feet under me, you know? So one night . . .

#*#*#*#*#

"What, your erection last for more than four hours, Boss?"

Steve blinked owlishly in the harsh light of his kitchen, and double checked the screen on his phone to be sure it was Kono Kalakaua that he'd called to beg for a ride to the emergency room.

Yep - that was her name, all contrasts of sharp angled k's and softly curved a's and o's . . . much like the woman herself. And that was her voice, maybe a little more lilting, a little less clipped than what he was used to, but it was her.

"Never mind, you're, ah, having fun," he said. "I'll call a taxi, or . . . yeah, Uber or something." It was, after all, two am on a Saturday morning, and she was probably out enjoying a well-deserved time with friends, and she was drunk - that was the only explanation for her talking about his . . . you know.

He must have said at least some of that out loud, because she was laughing softly on the other end of the line.

"Nah, stone cold sober, boss. I just have poor impulse control," she said. He could hear keys. "Too much late night television, you know, those ads . . . nevermind. I'll be there in twenty."

He held the phone to his ear for a solid fifteen seconds before he processed the click that had ended the call. He rubbed his good hand over his face, looking around at the mess. He'd come home from work to the empty house, stared blankly at the wall that had been spattered with his father's blood, discovered that swimming to the point of exhaustion wasn't enough to keep the nightmares at bay, and then tried whiskey. Too much whiskey, not nearly enough food, and now he was standing in the brightly lit kitchen, dripping blood on the floor and waiting for Kono Kalakaua to give him a ride to the emergency room.

"Whoa, boss, you look axed," Kono commented, walking in through the unlocked front door. She glanced around at the brightly lit house.

"There's an energy crisis, you know," Kono said softly, tilting her head at Steve. "Lights, boss. You need all of these on?"

"Um, no," Steve said. Now that she mentioned it, there were a lot of lights on. "No, I just . . . it was dark."

"Yeah, that happens," Kono said. "Especially at night."

"There were shadows," Steve added, by way of completely unclarifying clarification.

"Ah," Kono nodded. "You, um, want me to run up and grab a shirt for you, before we head to the emergency room?"

He glanced down. There was blood smeared on his chest. He could feel it, sticky, on the back of his neck, where he'd absently rubbed his hand.

"I got it," he mumbled, as he turned and shuffled up the stairs.

He could hear her, moving quietly around the house, turning off lamps and setting things straight. She'd reached the kitchen just about the time he was back on the first floor.

"Holy shit, boss." He heard her muttering and cringed.

"Kono, be careful. I forgot about the broken glass," he said, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. It seemed to be listing to one side. "I think . . . probably I should have some coffee before we, um . . . you know."

"You sure?" she asked, frowning at the bloodstain spreading on the towel.

"I don't - I'm just - it's -" He chuffed in frustration.

"Ah. Your reputation as head of the governor's elite task force?" she asked lightly.

"Five-O's reputation," he answered. He could just imagine the headlines. He could imagine trying to explain this to the governor. Or worse, to Danny.

She looked at his hand again, which he'd almost forgotten was the reason he'd called her in the first place.

"We'll get some on the way," she offered by way of compromise.

He nodded.

It didn't surprise Steve that Kono knew exactly where to find good coffee at 3 am. He cradled his cup carefully in his left hand, his right propped on his knee. The way he was folded into Kono's car, his hand was elevated, which, actually, now that he thought about it, worked nicely.

"Queens?" Kono asked, her turn signal blinking right as she waited to pull back onto the road.

He shook his head. "Straub Clinic."

Kono flipped the turn signal left. She looked at him curiously, but he didn't offer any further explanation. They rode in silence through the dark, almost empty streets.

"Thank you," he said quietly, once, between sips.

The emergency room was almost empty.

Kono sat down in a hard plastic chair while Steve stood at the desk.

"Insurance card and photo id?" the receptionist asked pleasantly.

Steve handed over his military ID and his credit card. "I'd prefer to pay cash."

"But your Tri-Care would -"

"This happened off-duty," Steve said quietly. "And you have my word, no one else was involved or injured."

"Of course," the receptionist said, nodding. Steve was hardly the first sailor to have slipped quietly into the small hospital, rather than be treated on base. She processed his paperwork quickly.

Steve sat down next to Kono.

"You don't have to wait," he said. "I'll get a ride home. You know hospitals, this could take -"

"McGarrett?" The nurse was calling for him.

Kono grinned brightly. "Looks like it won't take long. If you're good, I bet they'll give you a lollipop. I'll be right here when you're done."

"Oh, your girlfriend can come back with you, it's fine," the nurse offered helpfully.

Steve started to explain, but then Kono's hand was soft and warm between his shoulder blades, propelling him gently out of his seat and toward the nurse, as she fell in easily behind him.

The whiskey had worn off and the coffee had kicked in, and his hand hurt like hell. He sat, unblinking, as the doctor painstakingly pulled out shards of broken glass and placed a few dissolvable stitches.

"You know the drill," the doctor said, sighing over his glasses. "I'm sure this isn't your first injury. Don't skimp on the antibiotics, especially since I'm sure it's pointless to tell you to keep it clean and dry. The lacerations were superficial, so no need to worry about nerve or tendon damage."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said.

The doctor looked at him pointedly. "You know where to go for resources, son, if this gets bigger than you can handle."

"Yes, sir," Steve said again.

A final paper to sign at the desk, and Steve was presented with a white pharmacy bag.

"The doctor said it would save you having to make a stop," the receptionist explained. "Also something about stubborn sailors."

The streets were still dark and empty as Kono turned her car back toward Steve's home.

"Thanks, Kono," Steve said, again.

"What did he mean, resources?" Kono blurted out. "Like, PTSD?"

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head against the car seat. "It's nothing, Kono. I got drunk and got clumsy, okay?"

"Why'd you call me?" Kono asked. The combination of no sleep and a generous serving of caffeine was dulling what little bit of filter she had to begin with. "Why not Danny? Or Chin?"

"Kono," Steve groaned.

"No, I'm just curious," Kono said. "Chin . . . he's like an older brother to you and Danny . . . he's your partner. So - why me?"

Steve thought, in hindsight, that an Uber would have been a lot simpler.

"It's because I'm the rookie," Kono mumbled. "Or, God, no, it's because I'm the girl?"

"No, I don't think of you that way," Steve said quickly. Thank God, they were pulling into his driveway. He barely waited for Kono to put her car in park before climbing out of the car, awkwardly managing the seat belt and door handle while clutching the pharmacy bag with his left hand.

"Thank you, again, Kono, I really appreciate it," he said, leaning back into the car before he closed the door. He walked, steady now, toward his front door.

Kono's door closed and she was on his heels, deftly taking the house keys out of his hand.

"Don't think of me what way?" she demanded. She opened the door but then stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance into his own house. "Like a rookie or like a girl?"

"Both? Neither?" he said. God, he was never going to drink again.

She arched a brow at him. "I was wearing a bikini when you hired me, straight out of the academy, specifically because you needed a female to go undercover."

"Please let me inside," Steve said plaintively.

Kono stepped back and rolled her eyes at him. "Well? If you don't think of me like the rookie, or the girl, how do you think of me?"

"As a friend. I - yeah, okay, I didn't want to disappoint Chin, and Danny, he's my partner but - okay, first of all, it's his weekend with Gracie, you know we don't interrupt his time with Gracie, and he's . . . Danny would've been even more of a pain in the ass about this than you're being, at the moment, and you . . . I didn't call you because you were the girl, or the rookie, but because . . . I figured . . . you'd get it."

"You figured, of the three of us, that I would be the one who would relate to getting shit-faced and cutting the hell out of my hand in the middle of the night?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Because you think of me as a friend?"

"I do? I think."

Kono beamed at him, a flash of white teeth and dimples. She stretched up, just a bit, and kissed him on the cheek. "Sit. You need to eat. I'm making sandwiches and dealing with the broken glass in the kitchen."

Steve didn't realize he had dozed off until Kono was cautiously, carefully, jostling his shoulder and calling his name.

"Hey," she said. Her voice was husky with fatigue. "You need to eat and take your pills."

He groaned and cracked one eye open.

"Hangover?" Kono asked softly. "The hospital sent pain pills for you. They should help."

Steve peeled open his other eye and sighed. She was right. And the sandwich did smell good.

He tried to ignore the fact that she smelled good, too, but it was difficult, given that she was curling up on the sofa next to him. He managed the sandwich with one hand, and downed it quickly. The pill bottles were a little trickier.

"I've got it," Kono said, swiping them from him. She squinted at the dosing instructions on the label and then tilted the right amount carefully into his palm. He tossed them back with a sip of water.

"You should go home, get some rest, Kono," he said. "I didn't mean to take up your whole night."

"It's the weekend," she shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm glad I was able to help. I'm . . . I'm glad you felt like you could call me. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, seriously."

She fidgeted with the frayed hem of her cut-off shorts. "Ok, then . . . I'll let you get some sleep."

"Yeah." His tone brought her up short. She studied his face, the dark circles under his eyes. The whiskey, the broken glass . . . all the lights turned on.

There were shadows, he'd said.

"You can't sleep?" she asked softly, brushing the backs of her fingers over his cheek.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, wincing and shaking his injured hand away. Her hand slipped around to cup the back of his neck, her fingers carding through the soft, almost curls at the nape.

"You should go," he said roughly.

"Oh, I really don't think so," she said. "Steve. You called me. Do you really want to be alone?"

"It's almost morning," he said. "I'll be fine."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kneeling on the sofa next to him. She pressed her hand against the side of his head, gently, insistently, until he yielded and he was resting perfectly tucked into the crook of her neck.

"You called a friend," she said. "Let me be your friend, Steve. You need to sleep, yeah?"

He nodded, suddenly unwilling to trust his voice around the lump in his throat.

"Come on. I'll tuck you in," she said. She unfolded herself gracefully from the sofa, extended her hand to his uninjured one. He reached out to her automatically and she pulled him up, with a strength that did not surprise him in the least, to his feet.

"You should go," he said, with absolutely no conviction in his tone.

"Shut up," she murmured, and pulled him up the stairs. She walked into his bedroom as if she had every right and reason to be there, and flicked down the covers on his perfectly made bed. "Pee, hit the head, whatever, and get in bed. I'll be right back."

He moved on autopilot through the motions of getting ready for bed, one ear absently tuned to her graceful footfalls on the stairs, then the porch. A solid thunk of a car trunk - hers, apparently - and then the return of the soft sound of her bare feet on the porch, the lock sliding with a satisfying sound, and then her easy, quick pace back up the stairs.

"Steve?" she called out softly, knocking on his half-open bedroom door. She had a go-bag in hand; like the rest of the team, she'd learned early to always keep a couple changes of clothes and other essentials in the trunk of her car.

"I'm fine, Kono," he said.

She pushed the door open and slipped back into his room. "I locked up downstairs," she said. "You don't have an alarm system, boss?"

He shook his head.

"I guess, being a SEAL, you don't need one. Shit, Steve, your hand . . . can you shoot?"

"Shoot fine with my left hand," he said.

"You're ambidextrous? Nice," Kono said. "Go on, lay down."

"Not really. I need my right hand to write and jerk-" he stopped short. Damn pain pills.

Kono grinned and padded over to him. "Get some sleep, Steve."

"You don't seriously have to tuck me in, Kono," he protested, as her strong hands wrapped around his shoulders and half-steered, half-pushed him down to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah, I kinda think I do," she said. She crossed her arms and looked down at him.

He rolled his eyes and eased himself down gingerly onto his pillow. Kono pulled the sheet and light blanket over him, smoothing the covers over his shoulder. His hand was cradled on the pillow, curled gently next to his cheek, the pristine white bandage covering the stitches beneath.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Kono turned off the bedside lamp. She hesitated a moment, then slipped into bed behind him.

"Kono, what -"

"Shh. I'm tired, you're hurt, just shut up and go to sleep."

She closed her eyes and drifted, caffeine and the awareness of a strange bed flitting through her consciousness. A sigh from Steve indicated that he was still awake.

"Steve?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You said, first of all. You didn't call Danny, because first of all, he had Gracie. What's the second of all?"

"I'm try'na sleep, Kono," he mumbled.

"Is it working?"

He sighed again. She slipped closer, tracing her fingers over the tense muscles of his back.

"Kono . . ." he said softly. "What -"

"Just . . . just let me, Steve," she murmured, her lips grazing the back of his neck as her hand slipped up under the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt and dipped under the elastic of his gym shorts.

"Kono," he groaned.

"You can tell me to stop, if you don't want this," she said. "But don't be noble for my sake. I know what I'm doing." Her strong, slim fingers stroked over his rapidly hardening length.

"No shit," he gritted out, making her chuckle darkly. "What the hell are we doing, Kono?"

"You can't sleep, you can't relax . . . I can help. I can help you relax. Don't tell me you've never . . . given a friend a hand?"

He flinched.

"Okay, okay," she murmured. "I didn't ask, you don't tell."

"Kono, I -"

"Shhhh, close your eyes."

It was awkward, at first - too dry, her hand at a weird angle, his shorts in the way - but she kept going, mumbling soft pidgin into his ear. She felt him exhale with a shuddering sigh, and then she was gathering moisture in her palm and he used his good hand to shove his shorts down, and things were better, things were fucking fantastic as far as Steve was concerned, his hips rocking forward into her hand, his breath coming in sharp pants.

"That's it, Steve, I've got you," she murmured, her lips ghosting over his ear, making him shudder again.

And then she twisted her wrist on an upstroke and he was gone, too far gone to give more than a fleeting thought to it being too fast, too soon, and he was spilling over her hand with a muttered curse. She held him as he came down, gently, just the perfect amount of pressure to ground him.

"Don't move," she whispered, and then she was moving easily in the dark, slipping around to his side of the bed. She reached under the covers and tugged at his shorts, and he shifted slightly to make room as she pulled them off, giving him a quick clean-up in the process.

He was half-asleep by the time she returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, pliant and heavy-limbed under her gentle hands. But when she slid back under the covers, he surprised himself by instinctively turning over, toward her, wrapping his arms around her and burrowing into her warmth, his face pressed into her neck.

"There you go," she whispered, her fingers slipping into his tousled hair and rubbing absent circles against his scalp. His breathing slowed and evened out as he allowed himself a comfort that he hadn't even realized he'd been desperately craving until it was right in front of him, right under his fingertips, and he was just too damn tired to resist.

His last conscious thought was of Chin, and his shotgun.

The bedroom was bright when Steve finally woke up. He rubbed at his eyes, frowning when he pulled his hand away, and looked at it, the stitches stinging against the straining skin. He groaned, remembering, and flung his arm over his eyes. The empty house, the swimming, the nightmares, the whiskey, the emergency room, and Kono.

And Kono. And . . . the best night's sleep he'd had since North Korea and Freddie and his dad and the governor turning his life inside out.

He could hear her - he assumed it was her - downstairs, in the kitchen, a soft clink of silverware on porcelain. The faint scent of coffee drifted up the stairs.

"The only easy day was yesterday," he muttered, steeling himself to go face the awkwardness. He'd allowed his subordinate to give him a hand-job.

His traitorous dick twitched happily at the memory.

"Shit," he declared to the empty room.

She was sitting on the lanai by the time he cleaned up, dressed, and came downstairs. An empty mug and spoon were waiting for him next to the coffee maker. The kitchen was spotless; all signs of his drunken chaos neatly disposed of. He poured a cup of coffee, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

"Sports section?" Kono asked, holding it out to him absently.

He took it from her and sat down warily, peeking at her over the top. For one, blissful, shining moment he thought that maybe he'd imagined the whole thing.

Kono looked at him over the top of the wave and weather section. "Don't be weird about it," she said.

He choked a bit on his coffee.

"Look," Kono sighed. "All of my friends were surfers. Until I blew out my knee and . . . funny. I wasn't a surfer any more. I lost what I thought would be my career . . . it took a while to realize that I'd lost all my friends, too." She tilted her head at him. "You know? Then I went into the academy, surrounded by people wanting to be cops . . . and I was Chin Ho's cousin. It didn't endear me to HPD, especially when I was loyal to him."

He nodded slowly, cleared his throat. "I, ah . . . all my friends were SEALs." Including my best friend, he thought, the one I left for dead the day before my dad was murdered. "And HPD . . . well. Obviously, my loyalty is with Chin, and I answer to the governor."

"Trust me, you're not endeared to HPD, either," Kono said, grinning at him. She'd put down her paper and picked up her coffee cup. She took a sip, studying him over the rim. "What I'm saying is, don't be weird about it. I was honored - flattered - that you trusted me enough to call me last night, when you were . . . maybe not at your best. And I know what lonely feels like."

"I'm your superior, Kono, it - I shouldn't have let it happen," Steve said. "I take full responsibility."

"Please," Kono scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Face it, McGarrett, you were putty in my hands."

Steve blinked at her.

"Oh my God, you're actually blushing, that is adorable," Kono said. "Look. We're both lonely. We're both insanely busy with Five-O. And we're both healthy adults with . . . needs. Last night you needed something to tip you over the edge, take your mind off things, help you relax. I was happy to help. Tell me you didn't sleep like a baby."

He shook his head slowly. "I slept . . . really great."

"We're friends, Steve, or at least that's what you said last night."

"I meant it," he said. "But work -"

"Nah, it's not an issue," Kono said. "Romance complicates things. Love complicates things. Orgasms? Orgasms just clear your mind, help you sleep, settle your nerves. Orgasms are awesome, and uncomplicated. Seriously, we'll be better cops."

"That's your argument?" Steve took another sip of his coffee and wondered, briefly, if it would be a bad idea to spike it. He had some Kahlua in the fridge.

"Even you, Captain America, have heard of friends with benefits," Kono said. "Look, you're being weird about it. Just . . . stop overthinking it. If we wrap your hand in waterproof tape, can you surf?"

"Surf?"

"You know, put your feet on fiberglass and move like a god on top of the water?" Kono prompted, waving her hand in a graceful motion in front of his face. "Surf. It's a weekend. Let's go surfing. It's what civilians do. It's what friends do."

Steve felt a sense of relief, and the faintest beginnings of a sense of belonging . . . of home.

"Friends," he said, nodding. "Friends who surf. Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

Kono beamed at him, and he had yet another brief moment of normalcy. Then she winked at him and started talking again.

"Surfing. We'll talk about more orgasms later."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny laughed weakly, a trickle of blood making its way out of the corner of his mouth.

"I 'member you showing up to work with - stitches in your hand, lookin' relaxed," he wheezed. "Tell you the truth, I thought you'd hooked up - with an old Navy buddy. Hoped it was - Had no idea it was Kono. I thought Kono - started with that undercover job, you know, with her in that little red number . . . you lookin' like Bond . . ."

Steve pressed more firmly on Danny's stomach. Danny groaned and closed his eyes.

"No, no, buddy, stay with me," Steve said.

"'M's'tired," Danny slurred.

"Tired? No, you can't be tired, you have to stay awake," Steve said. "Come on, hang in there for me, Danny."

"'M'right 'bout the un'cov'r job, yeah?" Danny managed. His eyes still glinted mischievously up at Steve.

"You're blackmailing me? Seriously," Steve said.

"Keep me 'wake," Danny said.

"Okay," Steve sighed. "Well, you're not wrong . . .

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was reasonably sure that this undercover idea was bad. Bad, bad, so very bad. Really bad.

Colossally bad.

The thing was, Kono always looked amazing - her usual jeans and tanks were perfectly appropriate but accentuated her natural athletic build, her graceful shoulders, the long, lean line of her legs. And then, of course, they spent a great deal of their down time together surfing, and Kono had spent enough years on the circuit that she was completely unselfconscious in skimpy bikinis.

Steve had commented on it once, even. Mentioned that he was a little surprised that it wasn't an issue, her having to fend off unwanted advances when they were on the beach. She'd laughed and asked him if he considered the fact that people assumed they were a couple, and that he was, after all, a little intimidating? Oh, he'd said. Oh, yeah, that made sense.

And then she'd made what she meant as a throw-away comment about guys not being into girls with boyish figures and then he'd made what he meant as a throw-away comment about how he, emphatically, was very into it and she'd looked at him with this smirk.

"Well, yeah, boss," she'd said. "Is this a revelation to you or something?"

But just then a rogue wave had taken out a couple of teenagers on body boards, and they'd had to dive in and help get them to safety, so he'd dismissed it.

Until tonight. Until this damn undercover operation in which he had been rather fully prepared to encounter a smoking hot Kono but had been taken a bit off guard by a smoking hot Danny. And what even.

And then, Danny was kissing Kono, kissing her like she'd still be feeling his lips on hers tomorrow, like he meant it, like he knew exactly what the hell he was doing - and he did, if that breathless hitch in Kono's voice was any indication because Steve damn well knew that sound and he knew that wasn't an act.

And he knew, he knew what Kono's lips felt like under Danny's, because his idea of friends-with-benefits involved a hell of a lot more than perfunctory hand-jobs and expedient means to the end. He liked making out, damn it, he liked long, slow evenings of hibachi and sake and movies with lots of explosions and the slow, steady progression from soft kisses to wandering hands, to discovering that Kono's bra had been slingshotted across the room at some point, to her teasing him about the dangers of going commando - zippers, God, Steve - to teasing, laughing chasing up the stairs and into his bed. So he knew what Kono's lips felt like, tasted like, under Danny's, knew that she was probably giving Danny a gentle nip on his bottom lip, knew that if they kept going, she'd probably trace the seam of his lips with the barest pressure of her tongue.

What he didn't know was what Danny felt like, the scratch of stubble, the brush of that plush lower lip. Did he keep up his usual litany of banter or did he go silent? He knew what Kono's strong hands felt like, pressed against his chest, wrapped around his bicep. What he didn't know what what Danny's hands felt like, one gently supportive at the small of Kono's back and one wrapped shamelessly around the curve of her ass. He knew what that breathy whisper of hers felt like against Danny's ear, but what did Danny's murmur sound like in hers, what was he saying that made her toss her head back, letting him trace his lips up her neck to that soft spot behind her ear . . .

And then, thank God, there was Chin and a shotgun and the sweet familiarity of violence and chaos. All of which was a perfectly logical explanation for his elevated pulse and respiration, and if his cheeks were flushed, well, it was a warm Hawaiian evening, wasn't it?

A heated glance was enough to ensure that Kono would be driving straight to his house.

He discarded his clothes on the way to the laundry room, grabbing a pair of boardies from the dryer and going straight out the back door. It was a moonlit night, light enough for him to head straight into the water without hesitation. Her shadow moving in front of the light on the lanai alerted him to her arrival, and she headed unerringly toward him, discarding t-shirt and shorts along the way.

"Holy shit, Kono," he muttered. "Skinny-dipping, really?"

"You gonna arrest me?" she asked, slipping into the water like a sea nymph. "Cuff me? There's just one thing missing, isn't there? You need Danny to book me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their height matched perfectly as his hands went to her hips, pulling her close to him, her toes tickling at his shins. She kissed him, her tongue tracing his lips delicately.

"Mmm, salty," she murmured, catching more drops as they slid down from his hair. She pulled back and arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't this the point where you usually dunk me?"

"Not in the mood to play tonight," he growled, kissing a hot trail up her neck.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against him. "I can tell," she whispered. "What's raising your main sail, there, sailor? You aren't jealous, are you?"

He snorted in derision. "I have no claim to be jealous, we've established that, Kono."

"Doesn't mean it couldn't happen," she said.

"We're just friends, and you were just doing your job."

"Hmm, I love my job," she murmured. "I love my job so, so much. You sure you weren't jealous?"

"What, you think I was having trouble restraining myself from breaking cover and pulling Danny off you?" he asked. His hands tangled in her hair, tipping her head back as he kissed salty drops from her neck.

She pulled back and looked at him, the moonlight sparking from her eyes, almost black in the dim light. "No. But I thought you might break cover and come pull me off Danny."

He silenced her with hot, searching kisses as he carried her out of the water and up the yard, one big hand covering as much of her bottom as he could, just in case . . . last thing they needed was HPD getting a public indecency call to his residence. Immunity and means would be meaningless in the face of Chin's shotgun. He grabbed a thick beach towel and draped it over her back, ever considerate, even as he pressed her into the side of the house.

"You okay with this?" he managed to grind out, as his hand fumbled with the drawstring of his board shorts.

"Come on, if I'd wanted roses and candles I'd be friends with Fong," she said breathlessly. "I've been ready since Danny -"

"Shut up, Kono, just shut up," he murmured, wrapping his hand around her wrists and pressing her hands above her head.

"Whatever you say, Boss . . ."

Later, they were wrapped in soft quilts and sitting on the second floor lanai. Kono flipped around and plopped her feet unceremoniously into Steve's lap.

"Those heels were really uncomfortable," she complained.

He laughed and took her foot in his hands, pressing his thumb up into the arch, while his fingers massaged her ankle.

"Oh, God, yes," she sighed. "You wanna talk about it?"

"About your shoes?"

"No, about why me kissing Danny was such a turn-on for you."

His hands stilled on her foot until she nudged him in a not-subtle hint.

"No," he said finally, resuming his careful, gentle massage.

"Oh, Steve," she sighed. "Okay. When you're ready to talk about it, I'm ready to listen."

"Kono, I -"

She shifted around until she was in his lap, straddling him. His hands went automatically to her hips, steadying her. She felt warm and familiar. Comforting. Safe.

"It's a brand new idea to you, then, yeah?" she murmured. "The idea of being turned on by a guy? Or is it just Danny, only Danny?"

"Kono, please -"

"Wow, that new . . . okay," she said. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. "I'm always here if you want to talk about it, okay? You can tell me anything, Steve, I mean that. I think we've proven about a dozen times over that we can trust each other."

He blinked and swallowed against an inexplicable lump in his throat. She smiled down and him and then bent and kissed him again, slow and sweet.

"For now, let's stick with what you know," she suggested, brushing her soft lips over the little patch of skin behind his ear. "With what you're rather infuriatingly good at. I'll miss it when you sort all of this out, you know."

"Knew it," Danny mumbled. "Knew you were watching us that night."

Steve chuckled and counted the seconds between the lightning strike and the sound of thunder. The storm was moving, away from them, and more importantly, also away from where rescue would need to take off.

"I'm cold," Danny said.

"Storm's moving, hang in there," Steve said. "You understand? Help is going to be here soon now."

Danny fell silent.

"Danny, stay with me," Steve said, patting at Danny's cold cheek. "Yeah, okay, I was watching you that night. Kono, she was like a dog with a bone after that, she wouldn't leave it alone. Without her, I might never have been brave enough to risk it, to make a move."

"Yeah, well -" Danny coughed weakly. "She was playing that - from both angles. Eventually - she was going - to get one of us - to break."

Steve laughed then, despite his worry.

"No way. Really? Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Kono said - you had to work - so hard for it. Thought we'd - let you have it," Danny said.

"God, I love her," Steve said. It was true, too. He did. He always would. And Danny, only Danny would get it, would understand, just like he understood everything else.

"The best," Danny agreed. "Kono's - the best."

His eyes slipped closed.

"We should get her flowers," Steve mused. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Or a big bag of Sex Wax for her board." He looked down to see if Danny would get it, knowing he would, already imagining Kono's laugh and Chin's pained expression.

Danny didn't respond.

"You with me?" Steve asked, raising his voice.

At first, he couldn't distinguish between the sound of his pulse rushing in his ears and the rotor wash, but just before he gave in to panic he realized they were here, they were finally here. And then it was a blur of rain, and yelling, and Danny, far too cold and far too pale as they flew, rain and wind still coming in sheets, in a desperate flight back to Tripler.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve felt the familiar weight of her elegant fingers on the back of his neck.

"Hey, boss," Kono said, pressing a cup of coffee into his hand. "The nurses took pity on us, got us some Kona from their lounge."

He stretched, his long legs cramped from hours on the hard plastic chair. The coffee was heavenly; rich, just shy of bitter.

"He's going to be fine, you know that, right?" she asked. "I mean, might put a damper on your, ah, maneuvers for a while, but . . . "

"Yeah, speaking of which," Steve said, "while we were waiting for you guys, Danny convinced me to entertain him with stories of our, um . . . you know."

"Our months of hot, uncomplicated sex?" Kono asked brightly. "Until I, in my infinite wisdom and self-sacrificing friendship, out of my deep and abiding love for the two of you, deftly manipulated you into admitting your feelings for each other?"

It had been a long, long day, and Steve was not equipped for this.

"Yeah? Pretty much," he said weakly.

"Yeah. You're welcome," she said.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a nurse appeared.

"Detective Williams is out of recovery and in his room," she said. "I'm sure he would like to wake up to a familiar face."

"Go on," Kono said, her hand ruffling gently through Steve's hair. "Give Danny my love."

They stood, and Steve pulled Kono into a hug.

"I will," he said. "And . . . thank you. For helping me understand that . . . " He sighed. He wasn't good with this part; Danny was good with this part.

"For helping you understand that what you and I had was platonic, and what you and Danny had could be - is - so much more," she finished for him, smiling.

"Yeah," he said. "I do love you, Kono. You know that, right?"

"I've always known that," she said. "And I'll always love you, and Danny. And I'm not going to settle for anyone who doesn't look at me the way you two idiots look at each other. You two are my relationship goals, brah."

"We started by pulling guns on each other," Steve reminded her.

"I know," Kono said, her eyes turning soft. "That's exactly what I mean. Relationship. Goals."