Choose your Friends
H50
Characters: Steve/Danny (slash, preslash or buddies, take your pic) Chin, Kono
Missing scene: epi 1.09 - po 'ipu – Takes place just after Steve kills Nick Taylor
Rating: Gen
Word Count: ~1400
Hurt/comfort, angsty angsty angst.
Summary: The look on Steve's face is going to break his heart.
A/N. There is so much potential for angsty missing scenes in this universe.
H50H50H50
'Hey buddy, you really need to pick yourself better friends.'
'Yeah. Well I picked you didn't I?'
And the look on Steve's face is going to break his heart. Danny tamps down on all his instincts that are screaming at him to just hug the guy. HPD and the tactical offense team are all over the property, way, way, way too late. The last thing Steve needs is to be seen as weak in front of them, but God Damn, Shit, Fuck and every other expletive Danny can think of, Steve's just killed his friend. He keeps his hands to himself and turns to head inside. When they're inside he'll drag Steve into an empty room and hug the shit out of him.
He's so sure that Steve's behind him that he doesn't even turn to check.
But then he's inside and Chin is leading General, I'm-a-mass-murderer-but-I'm-finally-trying-to-do-the-right-thing-at-last Pak out of the cupboard, and Steve's not there.
He turns back to the beach to see Steve walking, fully dressed, tac vest, and probably guns, knives and all, into the sea. The cops who are pulling Nick's body out of the tide just watch him walk on past.
'Fuck.'
By the time Danny's got back down there, Nick, the fucker, is spread out on the sand. 'Fuck off,' Danny tells the cops. No. That won't do. 'I'll let you know when you can come and clear the scene,' he tells them, trying to be polite. Steve submerges. Shit. Shit. Fuck. 'Five Oh will deal with it.'
'Do you need…?' One of the guys asks, motioning out to sea.
Does he? Danny doesn't know. Steve might be sitting on the bottom waiting to drown. He had no idea if he needs... 'No. Thanks. I'll deal with it.' He's already dropped his own vest, which with the amount of metal in it would certainly weigh down a swimmer, and is toeing off his shoes. He yanks his tie off as HPD leaves, flings his shirt over his head. There is no sign of a dark head out there in the water.
'Steve,' he calls as he wades in. The water is cool but not cold. 'Come on you bastard. Where are you?' He gets neck deep, still can't see anything although the moon is out now and the water is silver and should be beautiful. Sick dread colours it sinister grey. Steve killed his friend, someone he'd once trusted his life to, someone he'd trained. Steve's home has witnessed another death. It's not just his friends he needs to be looking at. Danny has got to get him out of this house with its ghosts. Jesus, now even the beach will be haunted.
'McGarrett. Come on. Fuck.' How long could Steve hold his breath? How far can he swim on one breath? Is he half way to Honolulu now? Can he swim at all in a tac vest? 'Steve!' he yells at the top of his lungs. He's starting to get really scared now. 'Steve!'
Danny turns 360°, scanning the water in every direction. 'Come on Steve,' he whispers, 'Come on partner. Don't do this to me.'
'I'm here,' says a weary voice behind him.
'Jesus, fuck.' And he is there, water lapping around him. It's too dark to see, but Danny fancies he can see blood streaming away in the water from the wounds on his arm and his head. He opens his arms. 'Come here.'
Steve comes.
Danny wraps his arms around six foot something, of shaking, shivering, breaking apart, selfless hero, holding him tight. He presses kisses into the wet hair and barely flinches when Steve suddenly turns his head and vomits into the water beside them.
He pulls them further along the beach, away from the mess, but still in the water, Steve tight in his arms. He'll stay here as long as Steve needs to be here, or until they both get impossibly chilled, whichever comes first. In spite of the water seeming warm by New Jersey standards Danny's already starting to feel the cold. Or maybe that's shock. 'It's all right,' he soothes. 'It's all right.' But it isn't. It's incredibly fucked up and far from all right, but Danny doesn't know what else to say.
The number of people running around on the lawn with flashlights decreases. Steve's sagging, his head resting on Danny's shoulder, his breath warm and stuttery on Danny's neck, arms tight around his waist. The flashing blue lights from the response team vehicles suddenly turn off, leaving only the house lights shining across the lawn. The house looks bizarrely normal, like it has on other nights Danny's been here on the beach with Steve. He surmises that most of the HPD team has left. 'Come on partner,' he gives Steve a nudge, 'Let's get you out of here. Find you somewhere dry to go to sleep.'
Thankfully, HPD had ignored him and by the time he drags Steve up the beach Nick's body has gone. Chin and Kono though, they're not gone. In fact they're hovering, wondering what to do, whether or not to come help and Danny can't tell them, hasn't got a clue. They come anyway.
Kono's carrying blankets; drapes one around each of their shoulders. Chin's got bottles of water and Danny's grateful for both offerings. Chin comes in on Steve's other side as Kono comes in in front, starts wrestling his stupid water logged vest off him. Up on the verandah they strip him to his boxers, lower him into a chair and Chin pulls out the first aid kit. Luckily it belongs to Commander be-prepared McGarrett and there's still plenty left in it. 'I can fix this enough for tonight,' Chin says quietly and Danny's so pleased. The thought of a bright lit clinic and cheery emergency personnel is too much. If they can fix it themselves, it's the right thing to do.
'You can't stay here,' Kono says. 'It's not secure.' And it isn't. God knows it isn't but Danny still thinks Steve's going to fight that suggestion just because, well he's Steve and that's what he does. But he doesn't. He just gives a terse nod and tenses in Danny's arms as Chin butterfly strips the slash wound on his arm. He breathes through his teeth as Chin dresses and bandages it, tight, because really it does need sutures. But it will do for now.
Danny wants Steve with him, but he also wants him somewhere he will sleep well, and really his sofa bed is barely big enough for him. Steve would hang off in all directions. They talk about a motel. Kono says come home with her. Her house is small but she has a decent spare bed. Steve suddenly sits up and says, 'Thank you,' and, 'If you don't mind?' and, 'Can we go now?'
They have to borrow a squad car to leave. None of them have vehicles here and the Task Force SUVs they arrived in have been shot to shit.
So Danny ends up pouring an over-exhausted Steve McGarrett into Kono's, really most excellent, spare bed and watching him pass out. They may just have added a few of Kono's, long out of date, ground up, sleeping pills to the warm chocolate milk they made him drink after his shower.
Danny goes out to join Kono and Chin in the lounge for a warm chocolate drink of his own. The ones they are drinking are laced with bourbon, not pills. Quite a lot of bourbon. To be honest, it's having pretty much the same effect. He sinks back onto the sofa next to Kono, finally allowing his body to relax from the stress of the day. 'Jesus,' he says after the second hot chocolate/bourbon, more bourbon than milk, 'Steve really does need to learn how to pick his friends.'
'I don't know,' says Kono, giving him a friendly bump against his side, 'he seems to get it right sometimes.'
'Na hoa,' Chin says from where he's lying on the floor. 'Friends brah.' He waves his arms around, including them all, including their leader, drugged and passed out in the bedroom. 'Ohana.'
'Amen to that,' Danny mutters. He clambers to his feet and follows his instincts to the spare room, pulls off his damp and nasty clothing and climbs in beside Steve. Steve whimpers and turns into his arms. Danny kisses the bandaid over his eye. 'Yep.' He strokes his arm down Steve's long back. 'And sometimes your friends choose you.'