Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.

Victory

By
N. J. Borba

"Where we headed next, Lieutenant?" Steve asked as they exited an independent clothing shop with two new pairs of pants for him and a blouse for her.

She squeezed his hand gently as they walked outside along the row of shops, thankful for an afternoon spent together. It was a random weekday, but they took what they could get with their busy schedules. The shopping center wasn't any less busy for being the middle of the week. Tourists and locals alike where mulling about, old couples and young couples, teenagers clearly cutting class, overly-doting mothers pushing babies in strollers, and frazzled fathers being dragged by three-year-olds toward the shaved ice stand.

Catherine quirked her lips to one side in thought, "Maybe you should head over to the shoe store," she suggested. "You need some new running sneakers."

"No, I don't," he shook his head. "I thought today was about the two of us hanging out together."

"It is," she nodded. "But you do need new shoes. I could see the right heel of your sneaker flapping during yesterday's run."

He flashed a casual grin, "Just means they're broken in the way I like. And you wouldn't have to look at my heels if you were keeping pace with me."

Her eyes rolled. "Did you ever stop to think maybe your pace is too fast for me? I like a leisurely workout, slow and steady," she shot back. "And I'm pretty sure saying they're broken in is more along the lines of, you're too cheap to part with the money to buy a new pair and plan to wear them until they actually disintegrate and you're forced to buy a new pair," Catherine summarized the basic principal that pertained to most of what he owned.

"Why are you being weird?" he glanced over at her. "You have another date you're meeting here at the same time? Who is he? It is a he, right?"

She chuckled, pleased to see him so relaxed and goofy, even if he was still obstinate as usual, "I'm not being weird."

"Yes, you are," Steve dropped her hand and turned to face her. He switched the three bags he'd been carrying in his right hand over to the left to give his right hand a much needed break. "Why don't we go wherever it is you have in mind first and then we can go humor you and look at shoes," he proposed. "I thought all women loved to shoe shop."

"Normally I would protest at such a broad generalization of the female species," Catherine replied, smiling, "But in this case I can't deny that I do like to look at shoes," she watched his brow arch, "And try them on," Catherine tried not to laugh as his brow nearly raised to the top of his forehead, "And buy them," she concluded.

"So it's decided, we'll do your thing and then the shoes," he shrugged, thinking it seemed the easiest plan. "What's your thing?"

"You won't like it," she sighed.

Steve looked away, turning his head left and then right. Finally he spotted something about three store-fronts down from where they were standing, "Is it that?" he pointed.

Catherine didn't even need to turn to know what he was pointing at, "Yes."

"So I'm not allowed in the Victoria Secret store?" Steve questioned. "What is the big secret they keep in there, anyhow?"

Laughter bubbled forth as she took his free hand, "Everyone is allowed in there but I just figured you wouldn't want to," she aimed them toward the store.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, seeming calm about the whole thing, "I happen to like lingerie."

They stopped again, her turn to raise an inquisitive brow at him. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"Well, not like…" he groaned, "You know what I meant. I like it on women."

"Women?" Catherine questioned his term as they resumed course for the Victoria's Secret store. "What sort of women do you like it on?"

He shook his head at her, "I meant you."

"But you said women, which implies more than one," she pointed out. They stood outside the store, still holding hands, which Catherine had always secretly thought to be an extremely romantic gesture. It was such a simple thing, but spoke volumes about the state of a couple's intimacy in her mind, "Still time to back out."

"Seriously, what is inside this store that's such a big deal?" Steve asked, leaning a little to the left to look past her shoulder. "You know, I think as a member of an elite crime task force I should definitely investigate this place, could be dangerous," he looked back to her, smiling playfully. "C'mon," Steve gently tugged her hand. "I'm sure you'll protect me from anything perilous in there. I know you've always got by back, Cath."

Her head bobbed slightly in agreement as she followed him, "Just don't say I didn't give you a fair chance to back out."

They walked into the store and the first thing he noticed was that there were no other men inside, as in, absolutely zero. Steve almost shuddered, wondering if he'd just walked into some version of life on Venus. But he played it cool, until he started to notice the sheer mass of lingerie and other assorted women's wear. And not just in a few colors, but every color that ever seemed to walk the earth. There were ten hues of red, six of purple and nearly twenty different shades of pink. Not to mention grays, black, white and beige.

"You look a little pale," Catherine noticed, "You alright?"

"Sure, I'm good," Steve nodded, keeping a tighter lock on her hand as she guided him through the store to a spot with mostly bras. Stripes, polka dots and animal prints. Satiny sheen, velvety-soft, and even utilitarian all cotton. He felt a goofy grin overcome his initial shock of the store's overwhelming array of women's items. He was snapped out of his daze by the feel of Catherine's hand lightly pressed beneath his chin. "What?" he asked.

"Just didn't want your jaw to fall off," she teased. "You look like a kid in a candy store."

He nodded faintly, "Starting to realize why men shouldn't be allowed in this store, it's kind of a pervert haven," Steve tried his best to focus on a narrower selection of items. "This is nice," he felt only slightly uncomfortable upon first pulling the hanger off the rack. Steve relaxed a little, leaning against the rack as he held the bra up for her to see.

Catherine's eyes widened a bit, "Yeah, that's certainly very… pink, and lacy," she grinned, reaching out and taking the hanger from him. "First off," she examined the bra closer. "Thank you for grossly overestimating the size of my boobs," Catherine rehung the thirty-six double-D bra and searched for her size, "Mine look a little more like this," she held the bra up.

"That works," Steve nodded his approval.

"Second, I came in here to find a gray bra, or maybe white," she rehung the pink one, "Something a little less lacy, for running."

"Oh," he tried to hide his disappointment as they moved toward a selection of cottony sport bras. "But what about, you know, times when we're not running?"

She chuckled while searching for something with a racer back design. Catherine found several styles to try on, even some in colors other than white and gray. She was about to ask him which color he preferred when she turned to find he wasn't standing right beside her any longer. "Steve?" she called out softly, wondering where he could've run off to, thinking maybe he'd opted for the shoe store after all. But it didn't take her long to find him one section over, his tall, lean frame towering over the racks.

"Hey, I thought maybe you got queasy and left," Catherine joked.

"Nope, just admiring some other…" Steve pulled out a bra and panty set that was satiny and turquoise. "How about this?" his brow arched approvingly, "That very nice sale's lady over there," he pointed to an extremely tall, thin blonde woman of about twenty who waved at him, "Told me this was a new line called: Victory. I like their marketing technique."

Her mouth hung open for a moment, noticing how very little fabric was involved in the set - lacy bra and panties that were, "Are those, uh…" she waved a hand at the bottom half.

Steve pulled up the tag and read it, "The correct term you're looking for is, crotch-less," he grinned.

Catherine had to cover her mouth to stop the loud burst of laughter threatening to overcome her, "They're certainly…" she shook her head. "To be honest, I never really understood the whole point of wearing crotch-less panties."

"I can tell you what the point is, if you really want to know," Steve replied with a serious look.

His firmness made her want to laugh even more. "No, I… trust me, I get what the point is," Catherine nodded. "I'm just saying that I can wear a t-shirt and sleep shorts to bed and somehow we still always manage to get to the point just fine," she concluded.

"That is true," he agreed, putting the ensemble back on the rack. "Looks like you found something there?" he eyed the bras she was holding.

"Gonna go try them on," she nodded, aiming a thumb over her shoulder to the dressing rooms. "Wanna help me decide which one?"

"Um," Steve eyed the dressing rooms, shiny pink and black painted doors that lead to parts unknown, "Am I allowed back there?"

"You'll have to stay outside the dressing area, but I can model them for you," Catherine offered as they walked toward them. She pressed a quick kiss against his lips before disappearing behind one of the pink and black doors. A few minutes later she emerged wearing a white sports bra with her skinny jeans and converse.

"It looks very… functional," he shrugged.

She slunk back into the changing room and emerged two minutes later with a gray one. "How about this?"

Again he could only really shrug, "Better than the white. But don't you already own several gray bras?"

"They wear out," Catherine said, closing the door on him again. She came out a minute later with a navy blue racer back bra with white edging.

His eyes lit a little. "Now that's a sports bra I can appreciate," Steve nodded. "I like the navy, it suits you."

Her eyes rolled, "You are so predictable, Navy man."

"Me?" he put a hand to his chest, pretending to feel shocked by her accusation. "I'm pretty sure I was the one who suggested the crotch-less panties, so don't even…" Steve watched her eyes cloud over and noticed the way she was fervently lifting her chin and seeming to point it over his shoulder. Steve spun around and spotted a women who appeared to be early forties standing next to a young girl of about fourteen. "Hey," he nervously greeted them, stepping aside so they could gain access to a dressing room.

Catherine bit her lower lip as she watched him back slowly out of the dressing room area. "Steve, are you…"

"I'll meet you at the shoe store," he said before booking toward the exit.

000

"Jeez, you really are predictable," Catherine said as she found him staring at the same brand and color running shoe he already owned.

Steve smiled, not taking offense to her comment. He kissed her cheek, "So how did the rest of the shopping go? You find one you liked?"

"Got the navy one and a gray," she replied, dropping her bag to the floor as she scanned the sneaker boxes. Catherine pulled out one and handed it over to him, "At least try them on," she implored, "Even if they are exactly the same as the ones you have now."

"Consistency is considered a virtue by some," Steve commented as he sat down and placed the shoe box on the floor in front of him. He pulled the right shoe free, "How did you know my size?" Steve wondered as he kicked off the boots he normally wore with his white khakis.

Catherine smiled, leaning against a tall display of men's shoes. "Some people pay attention to things like size."

"Hey, I'm sorry about what my bra selection might've implied," he pulled on the right foot running sneaker and began to tie it, "You know, the whole wrong bigger size thing. I didn't mean anything by that," Steve finished lacing up the shoe then proceeded to repeat the process with the left one. He stood up to get a feel for the new shoes. Steve looked Catherine in the eye. "I happen to think your boobs are very nicely shaped… not too big, but definitely not too small either," he concluded, "Just right."

She cleared her throat and looked around the small shoe store a bit nervously.

"Why don't you say that again a little louder, I'm not sure everyone in the store heard your Goldilocks version of my boobs?"

He grinned and sat back down. "Does that embarrass you?"

"Yeah, a little," Catherine nodded, subconsciously crossing her arms over her chest.

"Can't be any worse than you copping a feel back when I was trying on pants," Steve winked.

Her mouth hung open a second, "That's how you're meant to check for roominess," she defended.

"Uh, no," his head shook. "Not unless I was six and shopping with my mother." Steve winked at her again, "You can't keep your hands off me, perfectly okay to admit."

"So full of yourself," she scoffed.

Catherine tried not to blush as he shot her a look that she'd experienced before, the one where his gray-blue eyes seemed to undress her and devour her with a single blink, "I'm sorry, too, for calling you predictable," she tried to change the subject, "I guess I can be rather predictable as well. Wearing the same boring sports bras and all that. I think it's just a byproduct of all our years in the Navy, we like order and sameness. It can be difficult to break from the norm," she acknowledged.

Steve admired the way she wasn't afraid to admit her faults. "I like these," he declared, noticing the 'I'm not surprised' look that flashed behind her brown eyes as he said it. Steve resituated the new shoes back into the box. As he was pulling his boots back on, his eye caught on something inside Catherine's Victoria's Secret bag. He glanced back up at her, "Looks like something blue in there," he mentioned, indicating the bag.

She scooped up the bag and clutched it close to her side. "Told you I bought one of the bras in navy."

"What I saw just now wasn't navy," he stood, picked up the shoe box and gathering the rest of their shopping bags. "Pretty sure it was some other shade of blue… possibly turquoise?"

Catherine shrugged as they walked to the front counter to pay for his shoes. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

He sat the shoebox on the counter and turned to face her again. Steve pressed his lips against hers and curled an arm about her waist, not caring that a few people in the store were staring at them, including the young man at the cash register. "Does this mean we're all done shopping now?" Steve asked.

"You seem eager for that to be the case," Catherine remained somewhat aloof, rather surprised by his outward show of affection, "What's the big hurry?"

"C'mon," Steve eyed her, "Why the big secret about what's inside the Victoria's Secret bag?"

She shrugged.

Steve didn't even balk when the cashier rang up his total. He handed over a hundred dollar bill and two twenties. "Maybe my hurry is just a matter of me being hungry," Steve was pleased by the desirous look in her eyes, "Long morning of shopping makes me hungry," he teased, "Why don't we head home and eat lunch, then we could break in my new running shoes and your new sports bras with a leisurely jog… or…"

"Or?" Catherine prodded.

"Or… you could try on those blue items you bought today?" he proposed. "And I could try not to get to the point for… as long as possible," Steve tempted, "A little victory celebration for that very unpredictable purchase you decided to make."

Catherine smiled, "I suppose a fashion show could be arranged," she took his hand as they walked out of the store.

The End