A/N; this was a request over on LJ on Dante's hell's Meme and it's also on my LJ. I tweaked this a bit and realised I left some HTML tags in there. I think I got them all, but if you see one, let me know I'll fix it!

Steve doesn't have to look far to find his missing partner. He finds Danny where he saw him disappear fifteen minutes ago, albeit not exactly in the state he expected to find him in but he's not quite surprised either.

The stall's doors are all open in the men's room and he can see the bottom of Danny's shoes in the last one. He stoops to look down and sure enough, his partner's on his knees, facing the toilet.

"Hey Danny? You okay in there?" he asks, unable to keep the hint of amusement out of his voice.

"Shut up. M' sick."

"Yeah, I figured that."

Steve saunters over to lean against the stall's partition, trying not to smile, not to laugh. He will never let Danny live this down. Except his mirth dissolves when he sees Danny on the floor and just how awful he looks.

Danny looks miserable. He doesn't say 'I told you so' because that whatever thing his sister shipped from Jersey didn't just make him a little sick, as Steve had suspected it would; instead, it looks like Danny's come down with a really, really bad case of food poisoning. Despite the weak light, his partner looks absolutely terrible; ashen and trembling, shirt damp with sweat. The stench of vomit is thick in the air and Steve frowns as the man on the floor before him goes rigid and throws up with a pain-filled moan.

"Danny?" he calls out again, voice full of concern.

"Hurts… bad…" his partner mutters before being overcome by sickness again.

"I know it's been over a decade, Danny but your body knows what to do. Just relax. It'll hurt less," Steve coaxes gently. He takes a long stride to the sink and wets some paper towels with cold water. He puts a couple on the back of Danny's neck and swipes the other over his forehead before placing a gentle hand on his back.

"You're not making fun of me," Danny whispers.

"Not funny when you're looking this pathetic, Danno."

It takes a few more minutes but eventually the bout winds down and Danny leans back from the toilet. Steve has never seen him look so pale and the wet trails on his cheeks and under his nose are testaments to the intensity of the effort he just went through.

"Here." Steve hands him the paper towels to clean up as he flushes away the mess if only to get rid of the smell.

"You good?" he asks as Danny struggles to his feet.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say it."

"I'm not saying anything, Danny. Not a word."

"I hate you."

"Yeah. You've said it before. C'mon. I'm taking you home."

Danny shakes his head at him, looking via the mirror. "I'm good. It's out of my system, now."

"You sure?" Steve asks, disbelieving. Danny's face is still gray, bordering on green.

"Yeah I'm… Oh… god. Get out."

"What the- oh… yeah, okay," Steve says, watching Danny get back into a stall, hands on his belt. Okay, he will most definitely wait outside for this.

When Danny emerges about ten minutes later, he's another five shades paler than he was before and he's hanging on to the walls.

Steve doesn't say a word, just snakes an arm around his waist and hauls him out towards the parking lot. "Come on. Let's go."

This time, Danny doesn't protest. He lets himself be dragged out of HQ and deposited into Steve's truck. Steve leaves the passenger door open and puts a hand on his partner's shoulder. Danny's eyes latch on to his and all he can see is exhaustion and pain.

"I'll be right back," he tells him and sprints back inside. He explains the situation to Kono and Chin while snagging his office trashcan, just in case. He races back to the truck and finds Danny pretty much where he left him, although he leaned the seat back a little. His face is lax and waxy, a thin sheen of sweat dampening the hairs on the side of his neck.

"Danny?"

"Yeah."

"You good to go or…"

"Yeah."

"Here."

Danny opens his eyes and wordlessly takes the garbage can and places it between his feet. It would be funny if he wasn't looking so damn awful.

Steve wastes no time and gets in, starting the truck and putting the A/C a little cooler than he normally does because Danny's sweating bullets and he can't really afford to lose the water. Dehydration happens fast in warm climates, Steve knows, and today is hot as hell.

"You tell me to stop, okay? That thing is for emergencies only," he tells Danny, waving at the can, as he pulls out of HQ's parking lot.

"No promises."

"Danny-"

"Yeah, yeah."

They make it to Steve's place without incident but he's barely got Danny out of the truck when he has to sidestep out of the way of his partner's sudden retching. He holds on to him while he pukes his guts onto the driveway, the ocean breeze ruffling Danny's disheveled hair.

Steve's partner is the same in sickness and in health; loud, effusive and intense. By the time Danny's done, Steve's own gut is churning in sympathy and that's saying something. Steve doesn't know the meaning of the word squeamish but still, this is starting to get to him. He makes a note to hose this off as soon as he can.

"I'm sorry," Danny mumbles, spitting out the remnants of bile from his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay, Danny. Just take it easy. Almost there."

They're halfway up the stairs when Steve hears Danny's gut growl and his partner moan. "You need the head?"

"If you mean bathroom, then yeah," Danny hisses through clenched teeth.

Once again, Steve waits for him at the bathroom's door. When it goes quiet, he knocks on the door.

"Hey, you okay in there?"

There's just silence on the other side of the door.

"Danny?"

"Yeah. Keep your shirt on. I need… A minute."

"Okay."

Fifty-eight seconds later, the door opens and this time, he has to literally catch Danny before he falls flat on his face.

"Shit!" he curses harshly. Danny isn't quite out but not all there either. He drags a limp arm over his shoulder and grabs Danny's belt behind his back with his other hand and drags him to his bedroom. He dumps him on the bed and flips him to his side, securing his airway.

"Hey Danny?" he calls out, putting his fingers on his partner's carotid. The beat's strong, if a bit too fast. He taps a cheek lightly. "Danny! Wake up!" He's rewarded with a half groan and a weak hand trying to bat away his.

"M'not sleeping."

Steve huffs out a relieved laugh. "Did you faint on me just now?"

"Did not. Passed out, maybe."

Steve doesn't call him out on the cop-out. "How are you feeling?"

"L' shit."

"Yeah. I bet. Open your eyes for me?" Danny does and Steve gives him a wan smile. "I'll get you something to make you feel better, all right?"

"Hm."

"Do me a favor. Don' try to get up. There's a trashcan by the bed. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"Kay."

"Try to sleep."

"Hm."

He pats Danny's shoulder and heads to the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove. He digs through the cupboards and finds what he needs, mixing a few different things into the teapot and wait until the kettle whistles. He pours the water over the leaves and powders and puts the kettle on the stove to cool. He pulls out a travel mug and a regular cup, filling both with the tea. He takes a sip out of the cup, frowns and adds a teaspoon of honey to the travel mug. Danny's tastes are sweeter than his so this should do.

He takes both cups upstairs, sets the travel mug on the nightstand and his own on the dresser. Danny looks asleep so Steve grabs the magazine gathering dust besides the travel mug. He takes his tea and sits in the old rocking chair in the corner, flipping through the magazine and sipping tea until Danny suddenly wakes up, jackknifing on the bed. He puts the tea down on the floor as his partner leans over the side of the bed and pukes into the trash. He shakes his head and goes into the bathroom, grabbing a couple washcloths from the linen closet.

He wets them and heads back to the bedroom, placing a cold cloth on the back of Danny's neck and one in his right hand. He goes to sit on the other side of the bed and gently rubs his partner's back till he slumps back to the bed.

"God, I hate this," Danny mumbles, pressing the cloth in his hand to his mouth.

"Makes two of us." Steve gets up, careful not to jostle the bed too much. He circles around and picks up the soiled receptacle, emptying and cleaning it while Danny catches his breath. He gets back as Danny drapes an arm over his eyes.

He picks up the travel mug and sits on the bed.

"Here."

Danny drops his arm and takes the offered cup, eyes full of suspicion. "What's this?"

"Tea. Recipe my mother made for me when I was sick. It'll help."

"Hm," Danny huffs, still looking dubiously at the cup but takes a sip anyway. "S'good. This… Mint?"

Steve nods. "Mint, Hawaiian ginger, a couple other things." He doesn't think it wise to mention the base is slippery elm bark tea. He's pretty sure Danny's stomach wouldn't handle the slippery part too well. He watches his partner drink about half the mug before placing it on the nightstand and look around, as if he's just noticed where he is.

"I'm in your bed."

"Yes, Danny, you are."

"I can't-

"Closest to the bathroom.

"Oh."

"Get some sleep, brah. I'll be here."

He waits a few minutes, making sure Danny's asleep before picking up his magazine. He's deeply engrossed in his reading when, half an hour later, Danny moans loudly.

"Danny?"

"Hw…. Bathroom… Now," he mutters, struggling to get up.

Steve jumps to his feet and grabs him. "Okay. I gotcha."

The rest of the day and night is a repetition of the same pattern of illness, tea and fitful dozes, until the sky begins to turn gray with first light. He keeps pushing the tea on Danny despite it coming back up every time and his shoulders are getting sore from dragging the man to the head for the rest of it. He's starting to consider calling Malia for advice because he's pretty sure he saw a trace of blood in the vomit he had to clean off the bedroom floor the one time Danny missed the trashcan.

When Danny's been asleep for more than two hours, Steve figures he's over the worst of it and allows himself to lean back in the old rocker and sleep.

He comes awake with a start, what he estimates to be four hours later by the light streaming through the windows. Danny's sitting up on the side of the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" he asks, stretching the kinks out of his back.

"Okay. I gotta pee."

"Need a hand getting there?"

"Think I'm good," Danny says, pushing to his feet and shuffling to the bathroom. He's back a couple minutes later and pauses in the door, looking around, somewhat bewildered.

"Wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

"No. Vivid, live HD reality, my friend. And for the record; I told you that thing would make you sick."

Danny shuffles to the bed and sits, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go right on ahead. You've earned the right to I told you so me to death. So please, indulge. Especially after nursing my sorry ass all night long, something you didn't have to do, by the way, which is above and beyond what I ever expected. So thanks."

"Don't mention it. Partners, remember? Good and bad, thick and thin."

"Yeah. You'll be happy to know I'll never, ever look at Taylor ham ever again. Ever. And Angela'll get an earful from me, I promise you," Danny says, lying down on his back and closing his eyes.

"I'm sure she will. Now get some rest," Steve says, getting to his feet. "I'll see you tonight."

"Where are you going?" Danny asks, pushing up to his elbows.

"Work, Danny. You know, the thing we usually do every day?"

"You didn't sleep any more than I did!"

"No, but I didn't spend half the night with my head in a trash can trying to turn myself inside out. I'm good. You sleep. We'll take care of the bad guys, and any suspicious foodstuffs that head our way."

"Funny, McGarrett. Really. You outdid yourself there."

Steve smiles as he grabs clean clothes from his dresser.

"My pleasure." He points towards the bathroom. "You good? I can go in there for five minutes without…"

"I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"

Steve grins. "No. never. I told you. Pineapple is safe and better for you. Just saying."

Danny huffs and falls back onto the bed. "Great. Just great. I'm in hell. It's official."

Steve heads into the bathroom, laughing.

Hawaii one, Jersey Zero, he thinks with a smile.

Fin