Author's Note #1: Hi guys and welcome to my first multi-chapter fanfiction. I'm just about to leave for Palm Springs, but I thought I'll upload the first chapter today in case I don't get to do it tomorrow. I might be busy hanging out at the pool and getting a tan *grin*. This story contains four chapters which are all fully written already and are just waiting to be uploaded, which I'm planning on doing twice a week. Reviews are, of course, highly appreciated.
Author's Note #2: My story takes place in the present, so there are some spoilers for episodes that have already aired (5.16 for example).
Author's Note #3: A big 'Thank You' goes to my two amazing betas Traw and ReluctantSlashFan for helping me with spelling and grammar mistakes my English-not-as-first-language-having-self has created.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters in this story. No copyright infringement intended.
MA'I (In Sickness and in Health) - Chapter 1
Danny stifles a yawn when he enters his kitchen early on Tuesday morning. He puts his gun and phone down on the black kitchen isle in the middle of the room and turns around to plug in the coffee machine. Steve always mocks the old device and advices him to buy a newer model. Or at least to get one that does not sound like someone is working with a jackhammer. But Danny is fond of his classic model, how he likes to call it. It works well and makes good coffee; that is all that matters.
Okay – maybe he just keeps it because he knows it drives his partner crazy.
Danny opens the kitchen cabinet right above the machine and grabs a bag with coffee beans. The smell hits his nose and he sighs in pleasure. There are a lot of things he misses about New Jersey but coffee is not one of them. Kona Coffee is incompatible with anything he has ever tried back on the mainland.
The blond detective opens the lid of the coffee machine and pours the dark brown beans inside. He checks the decanter before starting the machine. Smirking at the loud screeching noise that erupts as it grinds the beans, he turns and heads for the refrigerator. He can practically hear Steve huff out a breath of annoyance.
"Aw, great," Danny mutters when he grabs the milk carton and realizes that just a few more drops are left. He has told Grace a thousand times that she needs to write it down when she uses something up.
"But there's still some left, Danno," he hears his daughter say in his head and rolls his eyes. He puts the carton on the counter and lets his gaze roam over the other contents of his fridge.
A smile tugs his lips upward when he pulls out a Tupperware with pineapple chunks in it. Some people might still be thinking he loathes the fruit but the truth is; he never voiced a general dislike towards pineapples. The only thing that makes him cringe is the thought of pineapple on pizza. And that is something that will never change. Period.
Danny opens the plastic top and pops one of the juicy pieces into his mouth. They taste fantastic and he quickly eats another yellow cube. He needs to remember to thank his neighbor for giving them to him.
A honking sound from outside makes him turn around. He looks through the window and sees his partner's blue Silverado pull up in his driveway. Sighing, Danny puts the lid back on and places the container back in the refrigerator. He rolls his eyes at Steve who impatiently points to his wristwatch from inside the truck.
Danny huffs out a breath while pouring the now steaming coffee into a travel mug. He would not need his partner to pick him up if someone had not gotten the Camaro's tires and hood riddled with bullets. Again.
"I'm coming! Sheesh…" Danny mutters when Steve honks again. He quickly holsters his gun and shoves his phone in the left pocket of his pants. He grabs the coffee mug and heads outside, locking the door behind his back in the process.
"You know we're running late, right?" Steve states the second Danny opens the door on the passenger site. He has barely enough time to climb into the Silverado and close the door before the SEAL puts it into gear again.
"Would you relax?" Danny sets his hot coffee in the cup holder and buckles himself in. "It's not even 7:30. The meeting with Denning isn't until 8 and traffic won't be that bad."
Running a hand through his hair, Danny once again reaches for his mug. He really needs his daily dose of caffeine, otherwise he will not survive a day packed with two meetings, a ton of paperwork, and an already annoyingly stressed out partner.
Suddenly, Steve hits the steering wheel with his fist. "Damn, we need to make a quick stop at Leonard's Bakery. It's my turn to bring breakfast," he says and takes a sharp right turn at the next intersection, causing his partner to slide around on his seat. Steve had been thinking about bringing the food yesterday before he went to bed but somehow it had slipped his mind in the morning.
Danny shoots him a look and glances at the time display on the Silverado's dashboard. "Just so you know; I was perfectly on time this morning. If we are going to be too late it will be on you, my friend."
"Yeah, yeah…" Steve mutters and swiftly overtakes the van driving too slow in front of them. It would not be the first time they appear too late to a meeting with the governor. Steve winces at the memory of the telling-off Denning had given them last time. He really does not want a repeat of this ordeal.
When they pull into the parking lot of the famous bakery, Steve practically lunges out of the car. He spins around before slamming the door shut. "You want anything?"
"Wow, how attentive of you to ask." Danny smirks mockingly.
Steve sighs impatiently. "You want something or not?"
"Bring me one of those chicken sandwiches with the housemade sauce."
Steve makes a face and shakes his head in disgust. "Are you serious? It's morning. Normal people eat a croissant or cereal and not a chicken sandwich loaded with mayonnaise and pickles."
Danny throws his hands up. "You asked me if I wanted something, didn't you?"
Closing his eyes briefly in defeat, Steve softly mutters, "I don't have time for this." And shuts the door. He sprints across the parking lot and hopes he will not need to wait in line for too long.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Twenty minutes later, at 8:02, Steve and Danny burst through the doors at headquarters. Chin, Kono and Lou jerk their heads up and glance at their two team mates with furrowed brows.
Chin is the first one to see the panic in their eyes and breaks out in a grin. "Don't worry. He's not here yet."
"Thank god." Steve blows out a breath of relief and the tension leaves his body. He walks over to his team and drops the carton with the deliciously smelling pastry on the smart table. "Dig in."
Kono immediately opens the lid and reaches for one of the sugary malasadas filled with vanilla cream.
"I guess you were lucky again." Danny smirks and swallows the last bite of his chicken sandwich. He knew his partner would bring him one despite not approving of his nutrition.
Everyone turns around to face the door when it opens again. Governor Denning, wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt underneath, enters and strides purposefully toward the members of his task force.
"Good morning everyone," he greets them with a nod. Kono quickly chokes down the remaining piece of her malasada.
"Good morning, sir. We've been waiting for you," Steve says politely and indicates for the tall man to take a seat at the table behind them. Thankfully, either Chin, Kono or Lou has already put out some small bottles of water and napkins.
"We've been waiting for you?" Danny mutters quietly when he bypasses his partner and snorts. "Yeah, right."
Steve holds out his hands and replies in a hushed tone, "He doesn't have to know the truth."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
The rest of the morning goes by rather fast. They debrief their latest case with Governor Denning and discuss their budget, which is, thanks to one of Steve's stunts resolving in an explosion, already shrinking rapidly.
After the meeting, everyone retreats into his or her respective office and begins to work off the huge pile of paperwork. Again, thanks to Steve's exploit.
Lunchtime rolls around and they decide to head out to Kamekona's truck for the best shrimp on the island. At least if you overlook the fact that Morimoto had spiked Kamekona's opponent's food with incredibly spicy sauce back at the cookout a few weeks back.
Steve shuts down his computer and locks the files away in the top drawer of his desk. Stretching out the kinks in his arms and neck, he looks up and sees Danny still working behind his desk. He gets up and crosses the office.
"Hey, we're going to Kamekona's. You coming?" He asks, frowning at the uncharacteristically slouched form of his partner.
Danny looks up when he hears his partner's voice and blinks. "I'll take a rain check," he mutters and rubs his forehead. He had started to feel off about an hour ago and as time passed it has only gotten worse.
Steve, of course, does not miss his friend's obvious discomfort. "What's wrong?" He asks and walks fully into the room, taking a closer look at Danny's pale face.
"Don't feel too good. I might be coming down with something…" He shrugs and swallows back a wave of nausea. He briefly closes his eyes and drops his aching head in his hands when the room around him starts to spin.
Steve glances worriedly at his partner. "Did you take anything? Tylenol or Advil?"
The shake of Danny's head is barely noticeable but it does not pass Steve's sharp eyes. "Listen, how about you take the rest of the day off, huh? I'll drive you home," the former SEAL offers and bends down over the table to be on eyelevel with his partner.
"Yeah…" Danny mumbles into his hands. He does not trust himself to open his mouth any further because his stomach is constantly churning and threatening to expel its contents.
Slowly straightening up a bit, the blond detective closes his laptop and turns off the lamp on his desk. He gathers his belongings and pushes himself upright. An unforeseen dizzy spell throws him off balance for a second and before he can get his bearings back, a strong hand takes hold of his biceps.
"You alright?" Steve asks, brows furrowed in concern. Again, Danny just nods. Carefully, the former SEAL lets go of his friend and to his relief the shorter man does not stagger or sway.
"Is everything okay?" Kono asks with raised eyebrows as she pokes her head into Danny's office. Chin, Lou, and she had been watching their two team mates but got worried when they saw their friend stumble.
"Danny's not feeling good. I'll take him home and meet you guys at Kamekona's," Steve explains while letting his left hand hover over the small of his partner's back.
Kono looks compassionately at her blond team mate. "It's flu season again, brah. Get better soon," she says with a soft smile and gently squeezes his shoulder as he bypasses her.
"Thanks," Danny mumbles but keeps his gaze locked on the floor in front of him. He feels like he has just ridden the world's fastest and bumpiest rollercoaster. He weakly smiles at Chin and Lou and says his goodbye with a weak wave of his hand.
Once outside, Steve unlocks his truck and watches Danny climb in. "You good?" He asks, noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead.
"Yeah, yeah… Just – take it easy with the curves." He manages a faint smile and buckles himself in.
"Copy that," Steve chuckles and gets in as well. He throws his friend one last look before he starts the Silverado and pulls into traffic.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Ten minutes into the drive, Danny suddenly jerks up. He gasps and leans forward, hands on his middle.
"Stop the car!" He orders and presses his lips into a thin line. He tries to suck in deep and even breaths to suppress the roiling in his stomach but it is to no avail.
Steve whips his head around and his eyes widen when he notices his friend's convulsive swallowing. "Not in the car!" He warns and rips the steering wheel to the right. Thankfully, they are driving on a rather untraveled road and the abrupt move does not resolve in an accident.
The blue Silverado has barely stopped on the sandy ground next to the road when Danny pushes the door open and springs out. He stumbles a few feet to the closest tree line and doubles over. Reaching out for a tree trunk to his left, the blond detective holds himself upright while he throws up his breakfast and what feels like lunch and dinner from yesterday.
A few seconds later, he feels a warm hand on his back. Steve rubs soothingly up and down between his shoulder blades while he expels every morsel he has in his stomach.
Once the dry heaving subsides, Danny wipes over his mouth with the back of his hand. He closes his eyes and hangs his pounding head, trying to bring his breathing back to a normal pace.
When he opens his eyes again, a bottle of water has appeared in his line of sight. He straightens up a bit and reaches for it with a shaky hand.
"Thanks," he mutters hoarsely and unscrews the lid. He takes a sip, rinses out the foul taste in his mouth, and spits it onto the ground. It feels heavenly.
Steve, whose hand is still on his friend's back, speaks softly, "Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah…" Danny mutters and sighs. "That chicken sandwich wasn't half as good the second time as it was the first."
Steve snorts and shakes his head. He pats his partner on the shoulder and nudges him back towards the car. "Let's go. I think a little rest would be good for you."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Luckily, the rest of the trip passes without any more incidents. Danny just closes his eyes and concentrates on thinking about everything else beside the nausea, headache, or sweat, which makes his light blue dress shirt stick to his torso. Even though Steve has turned on the air conditioner to the point where he himself is almost shivering, Danny still feels too warm.
"We're here, Danny." Steve says once he parked in his friend's driveway.
Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and squints against the bright sunlight which reflects off the car's hood. He fumbles for the door handle and pushes it open with a huff.
"Come on, buddy," Steve, who already rounded the car, coaxes and grabs his arm. "You good?"
"I'm gonna puke again," Danny whines and swallows thickly against the bile in the back of his throat.
"We're almost there. Just hang on," the former SEAL encourages. As much as he loves Danny, he really does not want to scrub off vomit from the driveway.
Steve leads his partner up to the front door and takes the house key which Danny had managed to pull out from his pants. He quickly unlocks the door and pushes it open. The cold air from inside the house makes Danny sigh in pleasure.
"You go straight to bed," Steve commands and points across the living room to the direction of Danny's bedroom. "I'll get you some water and something to settle your stomach."
Danny nods weakly. "Thanks. There should be some Pepto-Bismol in the kitchen cabinet."
"Got it," Steve says and smiles. He walks straight into the kitchen and grabs a clean glass. He fills it with fresh and cool water and sets it on the counter. Looking around, he opens the first kitchen cabinet, smirking in victory when he finds the box with band aids, medication, and pain relievers in his first attempt.
He rummages through the contents until he spots the bright pink bottle. Squinting to read the date on the bottle, he nods in approval and sets it next to the water. He quickly stows away the box again and takes a table spoon from the drawer.
Trying to balance everything at the same time, Steve makes his way towards Danny's bedroom. He stops when he hears the toilet flush, shortly before the tap is turned on.
"You okay in there?" He shouts through the closed door and steps back when it is unlocked and a wobbly Danny walks out. Steve studies the pale and sweaty complexion sympathetically. "You alright?" He repeats and holds out the water for his friend.
Danny cautiously takes a sip. "This stomach bug isn't pretty…" he mutters and shuffles past Steve to his bedroom.
"I can imagine."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Once Danny is wearing different cloths and is settled cozily in his bed, he tries to convince his partner that he is okay to be on his own, "I don't need you to stick around, babe. I'll be fine," he says and blinks against the heaviness of his eyelids.
Steve narrows his hazel eyes, thinking about it. He does not feel comfortable with leaving Danny alone but on the other hand, the pile of paperwork on his desk will not write itself. He bits his lower lip and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
"Seriously, this isn't the first time I've been sick. I can take care of myself just fine," Danny speaks up again when he notices his friend hesitate.
Eventually, Steve sighs and scratches his forehead with the thumb on his left hand. His other hand remains on is hip. "Alright," he agrees, "but let me get you a bucket in case you… you know."
Danny cannot quite suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips when he sees Steve's slightly sheepish expression. He watches his friend leave the bedroom and carefully rolls onto his left side. Lying down definitely makes him feel better but the nausea is still prominent.
Meanwhile, Steve opens the large built-in closet in the hallway where he knows his partner stores all his cleaning equipment. His gaze roams over the mess of brooms, mops, and detergents until he sees a bright blue bucket buried under a pile of rags.
With a heavy sigh, the former SEAL kneels down to wrestle the bucket free; successfully ducking away from a broom that threatens to hit him square in the face in the process. Piece of cake.
When he enters his partner's bedroom again, his smile fades. In the meager ninety seconds it took Steve to grab a bucket, Danny had managed to get himself tangled up in the blankets, drop half the pillows on the floor, and knock over the alarm clock on his bedside table. But that is not the part that worries Steve.
Danny is curled on his side with a pained expression on his face. Some low moans escape his lips.
"Hey, Danny." Steve steps closer to the bed and reaches out to touch his shoulder. He does not like the warmth he is feeling under the palm of his hand.
"G-God, I already hate this," Danny mumbles into the pillow. He had been just on the edge of falling asleep when his stomach started to cramp and make weird noises.
Steve gently untangles the sheets from Danny's legs and sets the bucket down. "Did you take the Pepto-Bismol?"
Danny nods with his blue eyes closed. "Didn't help."
The former SEAL starts to worry. He knows it is flu season and everything Danny is experiencing are common symptoms. Nevertheless, it could be something else. Appendix, ulcer, gallstones – The list goes on.
"Listen, I'm gonna call Chin. I don't wanna leave you alone right now."
Danny opens one eye and squints up at his partner who towers over him. It is obvious that the tall SEAL does not leave room for any kind of protest. That does not mean Danny will not try, regardless. "Come on. It's just the flu-"
The rest of his sentence gets cut off when bile shoots up in the back of his throat. He has just enough time to turn around and scramble to the edge of the bed before he begins to throw up again. Fortunately, Steve had placed the bucket right there a few minutes ago.
"You just proved me right, Danno," Steve speaks with a sigh as he rubs his partner's heaving back anew.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
The call to his team is made in a matter of mere minutes. They all agree that Danny did not look good and probably needs some time to just rest and relax. They also understand Steve's concern and back him up in his decision to keep an eye on his partner for the next few hours. However, they promise to call if something important comes up.
Stowing his phone away in his pocket, Steve sneaks back into Danny's bedroom. He pokes his head in and is relieved to see his friend softly snoring and asleep – Exactly what he needs right now.
Steve pulls the door closed but leaves it slightly ajar before tiptoeing back into the living room. He plops down on the couch and picks up the remote to flip through the channels, eventually settling for an old episode of Colombo.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Danny wakes up a few hours later. He blinks his eyes open and gazes around in his room. Squinting, he tries to recall how he ended up at home after he clearly went to work this morning.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he sees the blue bucket and the pink pill bottle beside his bed. With a groan, his memory comes rushing back and he flops back into the soft pillow. With this realization, he haltingly takes stock of his body: He feels better than before, if only marginally. He still has a dull throbbing behind his eyes and his stomach feels queasy, but he does not feel like he will throw up again. At least not in the next five minutes.
A loud clattering sound makes him flinch and he remembers his partner. His apparently still present partner.
Struggling out of the sweat covered blankets, he sits up. Danny squeezes his eyes shut when his headache spikes up a notch and the room spins for a moment. "Great."
When the dizziness abates, he slowly stands up and shuffles into the hallway. The sun has already begun to set and bathes everything in a bright orange-golden light.
He follows the clattering and clanking noises which lead him straight into his kitchen. Smirking, he leans against the doorframe when he lays eyes on his friend who is currently picking up tiny pieces of what looks like a broken bowl or plate.
"What are you doing?"
Steve's head shoots up, startled when he hears Danny speak up behind him. Cursing under his breath when he cuts his finger on a sharp splinter, he raises to his feet and turns around.
"I didn't hear you," the tall SEAL says and reaches for a white paper towel to wrap around his bleeding finger. "How are you feeling?" He looks up from his task and studies Danny. He still looks pale and slightly flushed. His disheveled hair does not help his overall appearance at all.
"Okay right now." Stepping fully into the kitchen, he blond detective leans against the kitchen isle and nods to the shards on the floor. "Why are you shattering my dishes?"
Steve raises his eyebrows and huffs out a breath. "Me? You set your kitchen up as a death trap! Do I really need to explain to you the concept of putting smaller bowls into larger ones, not the other way around? This is not Jenga." To clarify his point, the former SEAL points to a kitchen cabinet with large bowls and platters which are stacked up into an artful sculpture. He realizes that he sounds a bit like Danny but after getting almost knocked in the head by a glass salad bowl, he has earned himself the right to rant a little.
Danny winces. "Guess that's another ticking-off for Grace." First the milk and now the bowls...
"You up for some food?" Steve asks over his shoulder, voice calm once again, when he moves to the stove to stir the contents of the pan. "I made chicken noddle soup."
Danny tosses his partner a band aid, which he pulled from a jar he keeps close for exactly that kind of things, and eyes the food skeptically. He does feel better right now but a reappearance of chicken chunks and diced vegetables in the near future is not really a pretty picture to imagine.
"Come on, Danny. At least try to eat something," Steve encourages him as he fills a small bowl. He reaches for a spoon and shoves it into Danny's hands. "It'll be good for you."
Eventually, Danny sighs and shuffles back into the living room. Steve takes this as a victory and quickly fills a bowl for himself before he follows his partner.
Swirling his spoon around in the clear liquid, Danny mutters, "I hope I won't regret that."
To be continued...