A/N: I don't own Hawaii Five-0, CBS, or any other known entity. This was a story that kinda came out of nowhere, but I thought would be somewhat entertaining to write. There's no set timeframe on this story. I hope you guys enjoy this one, and please review. :)
Sick Day
Courtesy knock went out the window in this case, as Steve burst into the house. Any time someone wasn't answering their phone was a decent excuse for a welfare visit in his book. What he found, though, was more horrifying than any crime scene he had ever walked into.
Danny was lying naked in his hallway.
Steve cautiously approached, wondering what, if any, part of his training could have prepared him for this. At this point, he wasn't even sure if Danny was alive, or if he really wanted to know what happened to lead to this current situation.
Danny jerked up suddenly, causing Steve to jump back. The blond detective pulled himself into the bathroom, oblivious that a reservist SEAL was standing watch behind him. As Danny vomited violently into the toilet he'd barely made it to, Steve flinched, and suddenly understood why exactly his friend hadn't made it to his phone.
He disappeared down the hall to where Danny's bedroom was, pulling out a set of boxers and sweatpants before walking toward the bathroom. For Danny's sake (and his, a little bit), he tossed the clothes toward the sink, which caught Danny's attention.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Too long," Steve replied.
Danny grunted. "What happened to the courtesy knock?"
"You didn't answer your phone the five times I called you this morning."
"I'm not your wife."
"And I'm not your ex-wife. You usually don't duck my calls. Figured I'd pop in and make sure you're okay."
Danny rolled his eyes, though Steve couldn't see. "Oh, I'm fabulous."
"I can see that."
Danny vomited again in response, and Steve made his way down the hall to the kitchen, where he found Danny's phone. He sent a quick message to Chin to explain where they both were before tucking his phone into his pocket. He tidied up before setting about cooking in Danny's kitchen.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Steve glanced over to the newly dressed and present Danny. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking."
"I can see that," Danny said. "Why are you cooking in my house? Don't you have your own place for that?"
"I'm making you soup," Steve said casually.
"You're making me soup. Why are you making me soup?"
"Because you're sick."
"Okay, so because I've got a stomach virus, and anything I eat is coming back up and going out the other end, you're going to feed me soup?"
Steve made a face. "No. You're capable of feeding yourself. When you're hungry." Steve turned back to the vegetables he was cutting.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, until Danny finally said, "go ahead and ask."
"Ask what?"
"Why you found me the way you did."
"I figured that one out already."
"Oh? And what was your brilliant deduction?"
"You got sick. Your clothes were dirty, and they're still in the bathroom. You were on your way to get new ones, got tired or wasn't sure you weren't gonna go again, so you sat down and eventually fell asleep."
Danny shrugged, making his way down the hallway again. Steve heard the bathroom door close and shrugged to himself, going back to making soup.
Danny returned again ten minutes later, finding Steve pouring water into the pot. He moved past the SEAL to the laundry, placing his clothes in and turning on the washer. He returned to the kitchen to glance at the type of soup Steve was making.
"Vegetable?" he asked. "No chicken?"
"Can't cook what you don't have," Steve replied with a shrug.
"Oh, I see. There's some in the freezer."
"You'll survive if there's no chicken in your soup."
"No wonder you're not married. You can't even make the common chicken soup for an illness."
Steve rolled his eyes in response. "I'm making you homemade soup, and you're bitching about the chicken?"
"You need chicken for chicken soup. It's right there in the name!"
"I use chicken broth. It's close enough."
"It is not close enough. Chicken broth does not give the same protein that the chicken does."
"What are you complaining about? I'm making you soup. Would you rather Kamekona do it?"
"No, thank you. Then I'd end up with Spam soup."
"Alright then."
Danny grunted in response as he left the kitchen for the living room.
Steve moved away from the stove as he finished his project, wondering where Danny had gone off to. He found the other man on the couch, asleep and stretched out. Steve took a blanket out of the closet, draping it over Danny as he moved away. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, putting it on the coffee table in front of Danny. He took a quick inventory of the rest of Danny's place, making sure it was mostly clean and squared away before he turned to leave.
Steve made one final glance back at Danny's sleeping form as he made his way out of Danny's apartment. Everything seemed okay, and the soup would keep until Danny was ready, and able, to eat it. Not wanting to wake Danny up, he left and locked the door behind him, satisfied that Danny was squared away for now.
Steve would check in later, of course, but he hoped this would pass without too much more incident.
Although, he wasn't sure he'd ever be the same, after seeing Danny naked…
The End