Danny knew very well what sleeping on the couch felt like. In the last year of his marriage, he found himself sleeping more on the couch and consequently, the floor, than a bed.

So as he bedded down on the couch in Steve's house, he couldn't help but be brought back to those unhappy days. Of course, just as he got used to sleeping on a bed again, Steve had to go and get himself stabbed. As a result, Danny was now sleeping on the couch.

Damned if he told his partner any of this. He didn't need the pity. Besides, if Steve started worrying about him, he'd never get any rest. Danny slipped into an uneasy sleep, one ear open for his partner's voice. The doctor told him hin confidence that if Steve moved around too much, the would could reopen. And Danny needed his partner back. As much as he hated to admit it, work was boring without McGarret.

Around 2 am, he awoke to the sound of his partner's voice calling, "Danny...Danny...Danno!"

"I'm coming!" he hollered back, "hold your horses!" Stumbling through the dark house, he pushed open the bedroom door to look blearily at the figure on the bed, "What?"

"I need a drink," mumbled Steve, "Please and thank you."

Grumbling under his breath, Danny strode out of the room, missing the low chuckle behind him.

AN: I own nothing!