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"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Danny Williams called as he entered his partner Steve McGarrett's house. There was no response. Danny knew Ninja was around—he'd seen the black cat perched on the back of the sofa as he was walking up. Danny figured Ninja was just hiding. He'd come out once there was food involved, Danny was sure.

Danny opened a can of cat food and set it out, adding some dry food to the dish on the counter as well. Instead of putting the bag back in the cupboard above the counter where he could barely reach it, Danny found space for it in the cupboard under the island. "Here, cat," Danny said to the air. "Soup's on." No response. Danny wasn't worried. He was sure the food would be gone when he came back.

Steve was gone on reserve training for two weeks, so Danny had agreed to watch Ninja, with much grumbling and promises not to bring his dog, Bullet, over. Not that Danny had a problem with that—Ninja had swatted Bullet on the nose a few too many times for both Danny and Bullet. So here Danny was, dropping by twice a day to feed "that stupid cat", as he called Ninja.

Danny was concerned when he came by that night and the food was barely touched. He threw out the wet food and set out fresh. "Come on, cat," he said (to the air, because there was no sign of Ninja). "Eat for me. I don't want to tell Steve his stupid cat died because he was pining away and refused to eat." He wasn't too worried, though. Ninja was hardly on starvation rations, and missing a meal probably wouldn't hurt him. Danny was sure Ninja would eat eventually.

But the food was still there the next morning, and the next night. By then Danny was really worried, but didn't know what to do. He still hadn't seen Ninja, except as a tail disappearing off the couch as Danny walked up. He decided drastic measures were called for. The third morning Danny showed up with a tuna steak, cutting it into pieces and putting it into Ninja's bowl. The cat still didn't appear, but the tuna was gone.

The fourth morning, as he cut up more tuna, Danny addressed the air again. "You know, I'm not going to keep feeding you tuna steaks for the next two weeks. You're going to have to eat your cat food eventually." No response.

That night, as Danny prepared Ninja's dinner (more tuna—okay, he lied—he would feed the cat tuna for the whole two weeks if it got him to eat, but there was no way he was telling Steve), he heard a rustling under the island. Afraid of what he'd find, Danny bent down to investigate. There it was again—something was definitely in the cupboard. Praying it wasn't a mouse or a rat, Danny cautiously opened the door. There was Ninja, head buried in the cat food, only his tail showing.

"Why you. . ." Danny grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out to much protesting, careful to hold him far enough away from his body that Ninja's flailing paws couldn't find purchase in tender skin—he'd been scratched enough times to have learned his lesson. "No wonder you haven't been eating. You've been helping yourself to an all-you-can-eat buffet. Well, no more of that, cat. I'm putting this out of your reach, and it's back to cat food for you."

Ninja protested, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it, so Danny put the tuna away and set out cat food. He was grateful to note it was gone the next morning.

On Saturday, after Danny fed Ninja, he settled in to watch the game on TV. Yeah, he had his own TV, but Steve's set up was way better, and Danny was sure Steve wouldn't mind. He got himself a beer and settled in.

A little ways in, Ninja hopped up on the coffee table and glared at Danny, clearly protesting his presence. Danny shoved the cat out of the way so he could see the screen, but otherwise ignored him. Ninja then hopped up on the back of the sofa and batted at Danny's hair.

"Hey, don't you dare scratch me, you stupid cat," Danny warned. Ninja kept batting, so Danny reached around and lifted him off, setting him on the ground. He expected Ninja to stalk off and stick his hind leg in the air as an expression of his feelings, but instead the cat stared at Danny for a moment and leaped into his lap. Danny braced himself, waiting for claws to dig into sensitive parts of his anatomy, but Ninja just curled into a ball and went to sleep. Danny stared at the ball of fur in his lap, utterly unsure what to do. "Um, okay, that was unexpected. I hope you're comfortable." Ninja just started purring, so Danny eventually relaxed. He could see how this appealed to Steve. Danny still preferred the large presence of his dog, and he didn't see Ninja wagging his tail and licking his face anytime soon (both big advantages to a dog, in Danny's opinion), but having something warm purring on his lap was kind of nice.

They were sitting like that the next Saturday when Steve came home unexpectedly. Steve stopped just inside the door, somewhat surprised to see Danny (though not really—he should have expected Danny would come steal his TV), and even more surprised to see his cat on Danny's lap. "What's this?" Steve asked.

"Oh, Steve, you're early." Danny hastily shoved Ninja off his lap, who stalked off and presented the leg. "I was just watching the game. Hope you don't mind."

"With Ninja?"

Danny started to deny it, then gave up. "He just crawled into my lap. I could hardly push him off, now could I?"

"Uh-huh," Steve said, grinning.

"It's not like I actually like the furball," Danny said. "I just didn't want to be rude."

"Sure, Danny," Steve said, grin never wavering.

"Whatever. Get me another beer, would you?"

"Sure, Danny." Steve moved to the kitchen to get the beer. It didn't matter what Danny said (or Ninja for that matter—Steve was sure the cat would be just as loathe to admit he'd been caught on Danny's lap). He could tell Danny was warming up to the cat, and vice versa. But that was okay, it could be their little secret.

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Well, Danny and Ninja have made peace. Hope you liked it!