Disclaimer: Nothing related to Hawaii Five-0 belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with Steve and Danno.

But SEALs Don't Get Sick

By: Vanessa Sgroi

"Why don't you give up already and admit it?" advised Detective Danny Williams from behind the steering wheel of his own car. His attention was divided between the road and Steve McGarrett, who was, for a change, ensconced in the passenger seat.

"Abmit wha'?"

"Admit that you're sick!"

"U'm nah sick. SEALs don' get sick," Steve's voice was an odd mix of raspy growl and squeaky whine as he turned his head to look at his partner.

"Oh, SEALs—even Super SEALs—get sick," Danny pointed at Steve to emphasize his point. "They're just too damn stubborn to admit it."

"Nah stubb'rn. Jus' nah sick." He ruined his assertion by coughing immediately afterward.

"So why am I driving?"

Steve sniffled and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. "Was feelin' gen'rous today."

"Uh huh. And all this," Danny took both hands off the wheel for a second to make a gesture, "all this hacking, sneezing, sniffling, and drooling is just everyday normal in the Steve McGarrett world?"

"Yesh. Wait—dwooling? I don't dwool."

"You do when you're a mouth-breathing sack of utter SICKNESS."

"I'm nah—aaah—" Before Steve could finish his righteous proclamation, his hands flew in front of his face, and he let out an explosive sneeze.

"Still insist you're not sick?" muttered the detective.

Steve stared in disgust at the mess of snot on his hands but still muttered "Yesh" just to be contrary. The sneeze had done nothing to clear the congestion in his head. In fact, it only seemed to make it worse. His gaze flickered around the front seat of the car looking for something to on which to wipe his hands.

Danny glanced at his partner's hands and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, no spare tissues or napkins; I just cleaned the car." He saw Steve's hands drop down slightly. "Don't you dare wipe any of that on the seat!"

The lieutenant commander huffed out an annoyed and congested breath, finally resorting to wiping his hands on the gray t-shirt underneath his long-sleeved shirt. "Habby?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Beyond belief." He made a left at the next light and drove down a couple of blocks.

"Where we goin'?"

"Drugstore."

The detective pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition. "You stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"No. Uhm comin' in."

Recognizing the familiar mulish look on McGarrett's face, Danny relented. "Fine."

Inside the store Danny grabbed a handheld red plastic basket and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, nudging him in the right direction. "This way." He hurried toward the aisle by the pharmacy that stocked medications for colds and flu, leaving Steve to trudge tiredly behind him. He'd already picked up and threw in the basket two different kinds of pills, a bottle of cough syrup, and a box of tissues by the time McGarrett caught up to him.

Danny was heading toward the soda aisle when he heard a thunderous sneeze from behind him. He cringed. That one had sounded like it hurt. Adding a bottle of lemon-lime soda to the basket, he turned to Steve who was looking worse by the second. "C'mon, Super SEAL, let's get outta here." He made his purchases and led his now shuffling and weaving commander out of the store and into the car.

The detective had just settled into the driver's seat and was about to key the ignition when his sickly passenger sneezed again. He glanced over and did a double take. Snot, mucus, and spit dotted the passenger side window in a disgusting Rorschach pattern. Danny cringed. "Seriously? You couldn't block that one?"

Steve slumped down in the seat and laid his head back, sighing in defeat. "Yer'right, Uhm sick."

"Well, hallelujah! The man's had an epiphany!"

"Sorry 'bout the mesh…"

"Don't worry about it. I'll don a hazmat suit and clean it up. AFTER I make sure YOU are quarantined for the duration. You owe me by the way. And if I get one, single solitary sniffle after this…"

FIN