Author's Note: As a longtime Hawaii Five-O fan of the original, earlier in the year, I finally decided to take the plunge and give the reboot a try. I was not disappointed. Last night was my first H50 premier, and yet again, I was not disappointed. Chopping a two-hour story down to 42 minutes is a hell of a task, but Peter Lenkov, the writers, the rest of the producers, and the cast did a phenomenal job. I was also exceptionally pleased at the number of sweet and tender #McDanno moments we were able to watch. From beginning to end, from the banter during and after the fight with Agent Chow to the cut scenes of Danny's obvious distress at waiting to hear from Steve, to our boys having a quiet moment of reassurance and affection, the entire cast and crew really, truly outdid themselves.

And now, as I am sure many other authors are doing the same, a coda to S9E1, where in Danny has had quite enough of the CIA, water, and Steve's "I'm fines!".

Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-O, as well as the characters found within the series, are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off this work.

Hawaii Five-O

"…always the same; fucking CIA, goddamn turncoat agents, witchy women," Danny huffed as he walked Steve off the gangplank and onto the firm tar of the docks. The flashing blue lights of HPD's patrol cars bounced off of the warehouses, ships, and other structures which surrounded the port, and while it may give someone with epilepsy a heart attack, Danny was never so grateful as to see them as he was now, especially the nice, brightly lit ambulance. He casually steered his charge over to where EMS was waiting, and it was a good idea as to just how out of it Steve was that he didn't realize he was sitting down on the tail of the vehicle until he was being poked and prodded at.

"I'm fine, Danny, I just need to go home and get some sleep, maybe have a beer-ow, hey!" Steve jerked back as he felt the prick of a needle against his arm, and he'd had quite enough of those for the day, thanks much. "What'd you give me?"

"You were submerged in a tank for over six hours, and we don't know the health of those who were on board," the EMS tank explained, quickly easing a band aid over the microscopic puncture wound on his skin. "Plus, where there's standing water, there's mold, and that can lead to all kinds of illnesses. This is just an antibiotic to fight anything you may have caught or may catch while you were held."

"Yes, good, thank you – good thinking, see, Steve?" Danny poked at his partner's other arm and Steve half heartedly waved the man away, "let the paramedics do what they do best; medic." And Steve grumbled and hemmed and hawed, but as it turned out, having his senses dulled down to less than one made him rather pliant and agreeable, something for which Danny was very grateful indeed. It was perhaps another 20 minutes before the paramedics tapped Steve on the shoulder and gave him leave to go, the few head wounds and cuts from the glass he'd sustained during the fight cleaned and patched up. By that time, Junior, Tani, Jerry, and Lou had gathered around the back of the ambulance, first debriefing Steve and Danny on the additional information they'd gathered and trading relieved jokes at the end.

"I really need to get out of this thing," Steve looked down at himself and grimaced as he stood. "This is – I dunno, this is like something you'd see in a music video or something."

"I think more sci-fi there, boss, but sure," Tani gave him a once over, easily drumming her fingers against the rifle hanging by its strap. "Hey, can we get a few pictures of you in it first?" She made to dig her phone out of her back pocket but everyone else groaned and waved her off.

"I'm burning this thing once it's off," Steve muttered to which Danny emphatically shook his head 'no'. "What do you mean 'no'? It's a little long for you buddy, but if we go back on that ship, I'm sure we can find one in your size."

"Oh yea, very funny, what a comedian you are," Danny grumbled as everyone else got a laugh out of it. "About as funny as you burying two hundred and fifty grand in your backyard. That thing's going to the crime lab once it's off."

"Oh no," Junior groaned as Danny's words suddenly brought back a memory. "We never filled up the hole. There's a giant hole still in your back yard, Sir." Junior still hadn't broken himself of the 'sir' habit, but Steve was too tired to care, and Danny was too anxious to get him out of there. "We'll sick Eddie on it tomorrow when you bring him back over; c'mon, Steve, home. Please? Let's go."

"Don't have to tell me twice," the man nodded tiredly and pushed himself to his feet, aware of Danny's hand low on his back but not particularly caring at the moment. "I'm fine, Danny, I swear."

"Hey, let your partner mother hen you just this once, McGarrett," Lou clapped Steve on the back. "We'll check in with you tomorrow."

The others said their goodbyes and gave their own assurances that they would be in touch the next day as Danny led Steve to the waiting Camaro, happy that his partner gave no insistence on driving, and just slid right into the passenger seat, leaning his head back against the rest and shutting his eyes.

The drive to Steve's was quiet, easy, so easy in fact that Steve managed to fall into a light doze five minutes in. For the first time in their shared history, Danny didn't see the need to destroy that peace Steve had seemed to find. It was perhaps 20 minutes before he made the turn into Steve's driveway and pulled the car up to the flowered and vine wrapped gate and fence. It always amused Danny that his partner had decided to simply leave it there, but he also figured he knew the reason; the less Steve changed the house the more he could remember things as they used to be, how his home used to look and feel before his mother's fake death over two decades previous and fathers death eight and a half years ago.

Putting the car in park and turning off the engine, Danny twisted just a little bit to examine Steve. He could still see flecks of white high on the man's cheeks and hanging onto his eyelashes, eyelashes that could likely hold anything they wanted to due to their thickness and length. The small, white butterfly bandages the paramedics had used were still doing their job, covering the wounds Steve had earned during his little stay in the belly of the good SS Arcturus, and from what Danny could tell, the cuts and scrapes were no longer bleeding.

God, he hated to wake him.

"Steve." Danny lifted a hand, resting it on Steve's shoulder and shaking it gently. When that didn't work, his hand slid to the back of Steve's neck. He frowned, squeezing as best he could through the rubbery red substance that clung to his friend's body like glue. Danny couldn't imagine that it was very easy getting him in that suit and he figured it would be even less fun getting out of it. "Steve, babe, come on. We're home, wake up-" He pulled back like a bullet out of a barrel as Steve came to, eyes wild and gasping for breath, looking around frantically. It was in that moment that Danny realized his mistake; the Camaro was a lovely ride, a beautiful car – also a very small car with a very dark interior.

"Ah shit," he muttered, scrambling out of his seat belt and shoved the drivers' side door open, hitting the all unlock button as he raced around the car to the passenger side to rip Steve's door wide. "Steve, Steve, it's okay! It's okay, come on, babe, look at me. Look at me!" Danny slid his hands on either side of Steve's face. "There you go, that's it," Danny murmured softly, gently circling his thumbs along the crest of Steve's stubbled cheeks as Steve finally focused on him, eyes not quite so wide, not quite so panicked. "That's it," Danny took a breath. "You with me?"

"Y-yea, I'm…I'm fine," Steve sank back against the seat and took a few deep breaths.

"He's fine, he says. Yea, you look fine; come on," Danny stood up, reaching across Steve carefully to unbuckle the safety belt and haul him out of the car, "let's go inside and get this thing off of you so you can get some sleep."

"M'not tired."

"You know, you sound remarkably like Charlie when you say that. You're probably where he gets it from." Danny walked them both up the sidewalk and reached into his pocket for the spare key he kept on his ring – the spare key that he'd simply never given back, and that Steve had never asked to be returned. "There we go – you, couch for just a second," Danny guided him inside and turned on the low light, punching in the security code and shutting the door, locking it securely behind him. "Relax right there, okay? I'll be right back." Once he was relatively certain that Steve wasn't going to move from the couch (the man practically collapsing on the cushions and tilting his head back was kind of a clue), Danny trotted up the stairs and into Steve's room, rifling through his drawers until he found soft pajama pants, loose boxers, and an old Navy t-shirt, one which had seen a lot of wear and tear, and then headed back downstairs.

It was at the bottom step that he paused and took in the scene in front of him. Steve had stayed on the couch as requested, yes, but currently, he was having a battle of wills with the front zipper of his space cadet suit.

The zipper, it appeared, was winning.

"Want help?"

Steve grumbled and then gave up, flopping against the back of the sofa once more and looking petulantly at Danny.

"That a yes?" Danny ambled over, clothing in hand and placed it on the coffee table before he also placed himself on its surface, right in front of Steve. "Come on, c'mere, scoot forward."

"Still wearing your vest," Steve mumbled, never the less doing as instructed and perching himself on the edge of the sofa.

"Which is easier to remove than this, guaranteed," Danny gripped the zipper tightly in one hand while holding the top of the collar closed with the other and gently began to work the zipper down, Steve having to lean back a little bit as Danny slid closer towards to his stomach. The SEAL gave a relieved sigh as he felt the restrictive material lessen, and suddenly, it was all he could do to get the suit off as quickly as possible. "Hey, hey, hey, take it easy, one limb at a time here, okay?" Danny stilled the man once more and pulled at one side of the get up, carefully pulling Steve's arm out of the sleeve and then repeating the same steps for the other side. "Stand up," Danny instructed, and Steve did so, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder to balance himself as Danny began to gingerly slide the garment down past his waist. It was at that moment Danny realized Steve was naked underneath, recognizing a thatch of dark brown hair dotting the base of Steve's member. He heard an embarrassed voice above him apologizing, and he looked up to see Steve's cheeks reddening slightly. A flash of anger heated Danny in a way it hadn't in a very, very long time.

"Don't apologize," he ground out, "it's not your fault. You were out of it when they put this thing on you, yea?" Steve nodded, swallowing hard, and Danny simply continued on, telling Steve when to step out of each leg before handing him the pair of boxers he'd brought down, biting his tongue to keep from flying off the handle. He shouldn't have been surprised really, after discovering that it was Greer who was the mole they were looking for in the CIA, that the bitch would strip Steve while he was unconscious and make him more vulnerable than he already was. What the hell was it with women in the CIA being unable to not hurt Steve McGarrett? It was like his partner emanated some kind of homing beacon that drew every female CIA agent, past and present, to him pulsing out in Morse code 'hurt me, lie to me, betray me.'

It infuriated him.

"Slip those on, tell me how they feel." At Steve's questioning look, Danny explained further. "You were floating weightless in a pool of water with a suit on that's probably made of some special substance to make it feel like you're not wearing anything at all, no matter how tight it is on you," he sighed, running his fingers through the right side of shaved head. Yes, he was probably being overly cautious, but it was better to be safe than sorry. His chest loosened slightly once Steve slipped the boxers on and nodded that they were alright, more for the fact that the reaction from his partner was a good one than for the relief that Steve's (very nice, very male, very strong looking but ultimately not Danny's to look at) member was out of his sightline. He handed over the pajamas and the t-shirt, making sure Steve was steady on his feat as he put the bottoms on before standing up and beginning to unstrap his vest, rolling his shoulders once the tac gear was off and depositing it on the recliner.

"You want something to eat? Drink?"

Predictably Steve shook his head. Also, predictable, came the response, "I'm fine."

"You're fi- no, Steve, you are not fine!" Danny didn't mean to yell, but he couldn't help it. He'd spent nearly eight hours after Steve had gone in and let himself be captured in a state of agonizing worry, had run into the pool room to see Steve seconds away from being drowned and having to double tap the perp twice in the head, and had spent a few seconds utterly terrified that Steve had actually forgotten him. Danny wasn't fine, and he hadn't been the one to go through the sensory depravation torture! So, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Steve was absolutely, positively, nowhere near the zip code of fine.

He didn't realize he'd actually vented all of that out into the room until he felt Steve's arms winding their way around him and tugging him forward into a strong hold, speaking quietly in his ear half way between a whisper and a gravel tone what sounded like, "I told you I could never forget you, Danno," and "I'm sorry, I had to, I had to find who killed him, I'm sorry," and "I knew you wouldn't let anything happen," and a cacophony of other things that had Danny pressing his face into Steve's chest and breathing deeply, swallowing the hurt and fear in his throat and holding Steve tight against him in return. "This doesn't bother you?" he asked after a minute.

"No," was the answer, a deep rumbling from Steve's chest where Danny's ear now rested against it. "I don't care what anyone ever does to me; this will never bother me."

For whatever reason, Danny felt his knees almost give way as he let out a shaky breath, and he was fine catching himself, except Steve felt the trimmer, gripped Danny tighter and even lifted him a little bit, anticipating that Danny might fall. And he did, along with Steve, right on the couch when Danny lost his balance due to Steve's admittedly helpful but slight over reaction.

"At this point, I feel I have to tell you that I have real concerns about helping you up the stairs at the moment," Danny shuffled a bit on the couch, still woven in Steve's arms and vice versa, but unwilling to leave the security of them for the time being. Yes, it was needy, yes, it wasn't something that Danny normally did, but he needed to know that Steve was beside him, alive, out of danger, at least for the night, and Steve might not admit it, but Danny had the feeling that Steve needed the same reassurance.

"Couch?" Steve muffled the suggestion against his head was a welcome one.

"Yea, couch, just let me get -," Danny wriggled and zipped this way and that before he slipped his shoes off and heard them clunk onto the floor one by one, toeing his socks off shortly after. A few more acrobatic tricks up his sleeve had both his belt and his pants following his shoes and socks, and after getting up once more to turn off the light, he finally settled in on the couch, letting Steve take the edge while Danny insisted on wedging between Steve and the back of the sofa. It was a tight fit, but Danny didn't mind it so long as Steve didn't feel as if he were trapped. Not that Steve had a preference; in fact, he tried to give Danny the edge of the couch, but the detective wasn't having it.

"I'm serious, Steve," Danny mumbled against his partner's shoulder blade, an arm draped loosely over the SEAL's waist. "Never again. You're never doing anything like that ever again, not for any reason, and especially not for the CIA- what are you -ow!" His nose was hit as Steve shifted to lay on his back, scooting up so that his head was higher on the armrest in order for Danny's head to have no other choice but to lay against his chest.

"Sorry."

"You said that already," Danny's voice may have had a slightly nasal quality to it. Steve actually laughed. "I mean about your nose."

"Oh, really? Not for putting me through an eight-hour coronary event, huh?" With one final rub to his face, Danny perched his chin on Steve's chest, looking up at him. He felt, rather than saw, Steve's hand rise to scratch gently back and forth against the side of his head.

"You said that I'd said sorry for that already." Even in the dark, Danny could see Steve's eyes glitter as his partner looked at him. Danny slid a hand up to Steve's hairline, mimicking the movements his partner's fingers were making on his own head.

"You know, uh, when you were in there, and we were outside waiting, I was with Lou," Danny swallowed. "It'd been a couple of hours. I was pacing like a maniac, and he said to me 'that's my brother in there too' – 'too' like it's…like it's the same thing what he feels for you, and what - how I feel about you." He felt Steve's hand abandon his head in favor of slipping around his back and tugging him closer. Danny fell silent, allowing his eyes to flutter closed and contenting himself with the sound of Steve breathing beneath him, safe, warm, relatively healthy. Alive.

"Danny."

The blonde lifted his head just enough to look up at Steve. "Yea."

"How we feel about each other."

A sigh slipped out of Danny's mouth as if a pressure valve had been released and he nodded, settling once more. "I'm here, babe. Go to sleep."

For the first time in 24 hours, Steve did exactly what Danny told him to do.