Way 3

Purposefully try to understand his feelings—even when you disagree with him.

"McGarrett, that makes about as much sense as a wild boar showing up to a luau thinking he's going to walk away unscathed."

The myriad of looks that cross Steve's face make Danny bite his lower lip to keep from snorting laughter.

"Once I figure that out, I'll come up with a suitable retort."

"You let me know."

Steve quirked an eyebrow at his partner, as the sound of his very own voice saying those words echoed back to him from what seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality wasn't even a year.

Then more memories haunted him, running through his mind like someone had triggered a hidden tape recorder. He could hear snatches of conversation, bits that were somehow purposely recorded so they could be played back at just the right moment for just the right reason, and Steve frowned at what he heard.

…a term of endearment…

…do it every day, I like it…

…you, my friend, have a tone…

…I thought we were doing a thing…

…then I do not know what I am doing here…

…triple banana, bitch…

…you're serious, and now you're shirtless…

…you miss me, don't you…

Steve's breath hitched in his throat. How could he make Danny see? How could he make him understand? He chanced a look across Danny's desk, where his partner sat rigidly in his office chair, eyes turned upward to where Steve loomed over the desk. Eyes that were boring holes into his. Steve didn't know what to say. In fact, he felt a mild case of panic and cursed himself for the utter stupidity of it.

"I just don't think you need to be as concerned about my health and safety as you consistently choose to be," Steve finally said, in awe of himself that he'd been able to keep his voice that even. "And I know you think I'm insane, and from your point-of-view, I understand that. But I'm not. I'm military, and from an elite, highly-trained force, and you need to remember that instead of treating me like a first year cadet out of the Weehawken PD!"

Well. So much for an even cadence, judging by the way his final words were delivered up in the high-octave and high-decibel range, his fists were clenched at his sides and his teeth were grinding mercilessly against each other.

Danny rose to his full height. Never would put them eye-to-eye, of course, but at the very least he wasn't two feet shorter this way like he had been sitting down. "That's why you think I bitch at you? Because I think you have the skills of a first year cadet?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know!" Steve huffed, trying to pace, but unable to in the confines of the Five-O office. "But that's how you make me feel, and I've worked too hard to be made to feel that way, okay?"

Danny regarded his partner for a moment. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, let his eyes drop to the desk, and stood there contemplatively for a good forty-five seconds before he returned his gaze to Steve's face.

"Okay," Danny breathed. "Okay, I get it. I get it. I don't give you shit to make you feel like shit, okay?"

Steve let out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. "I know you don't, I know. I just…yeah, never mind, okay? It's all good."

"Only if you really understand why I give you so much grief," Danny said, stepping out from behind his desk, inches from invading McGarrett's personal space.

Steve held Danny's eyes and then nodded just once.

"I know you're not helpless," Danny continued. "But I think I have good reason to worry."

Steve's mouth quirked into a grin. "I don't agree with you there, partner," he said. "But I understand."

"That is good," Danny said, shoulders sagging in relief. "Now, can we please get out of here and get to your place and the two six-packs I know are in your fridge before someone calls and gives us a case?"

Steve smiled as yet another piece of recorded conversation played through his mind.

…tell me about it...I picked you, didn't I…

Yeah, Steve thought. Yeah, I did.

Way 4

Show interest in his friends giving him some time with them if they're trust-worthy.

Steve felt ridiculous. Even worse, he felt stupid. And worse yet, he felt like he was in high school again. He wasn't jealous. Not really. Not like Danny had been over Nick Taylor's sudden appearance on the scene. But Steve knew his emotions, regardless of how stunted others thought him to be, and he recognized that what he was feeling wasn't at all jealousy. What he was feeling, was fear.

Because of the fact that someone Steve had worked with so closely, in life-or-death situations; someone he'd trusted implicitly with his own life and the lives of others; someone he considered a good friend…because Nick Taylor had betrayed Steve's trust in him, he couldn't help but wonder if Kevin Anderson would do the same thing to Danny.

Thing was, Steve knew that Kevin and Danny had known each other since they were toddlers. They'd grown up next door neighbors. They'd gone through every grade together. They'd become cops together. They'd kept in touch by phone and by letters (turned out Kevin wasn't into computers and email any more than Danny, and that made Steve smile a little) ever since Danny had moved to Hawaii.

And now Kevin was here, and Danny was just as happy to see Kevin as Steve had been to see Nick. Danny had asked for a few days off so he could show Kevin Oahu and maybe even some of Maui. Steve had agreed, because when did Danny ever want time off? But he found himself now, at eight o'clock at night, sitting in his parked truck in the corner of parking lot of some seafood place Danny and Kevin had gone for dinner.

He felt ridiculous. He felt stupid. And he felt like he was grade school again, never mind high school.

When Danny and Kevin emerged from the restaurant, they were laughing so hard Steve saw Danny wipe tear tracks from his face. Kevin clapped him on the back and the two continued to the Camaro, where Steve was gratified to see Danny did not toss Kevin the keys. At least Kevin didn't drive Danny's car. Only Steve was allowed that privilege, and he knew it.

And wow, that sounded like jealousy. Yep. Ridiculous. Stupid. Jesus H.

Steve took a deep breath. Kevin seemed harmless enough, and you know Steve did such a thorough background check on the guy that he knew every intimate detail of how he'd spent his entire life since shooting out of the womb. And Danny, he was a good judge of character, right? And he'd be fine the next couple of days without Steve plastered to his side or stalking him like some crazed ex-lover…which he wasn't, and probably never would be, all things considered.

So Steve waited until the Camaro had sped away into the night. Then he started his truck's engine and forced himself to drive home. The last thing Danny needed was for Steve to display his natural instinct to preserve those he cared about in front of a lifelong friend. Kevin wasn't going to try to murder Danny on a beach. Kevin was normal; Kevin was not a trained killing machine like Nick had been.

Right. Danny would be fine, Steve would see him Thursday after Danny dropped Kevin off at the airport. Kevin was trustworthy. Steve just had to believe that not everyone in Danny's life was like nearly everyone in Steve's, and leave it at that.

Just as he turned into his driveway, his iPhone binged, telling him he had a text message. He saw it was from Danny, and opened it. His body froze and his jaw dropped, and he knew he'd be getting an earful on Thursday, but couldn't seem to bring himself to mind. Because Danny's text message read:

'He's not Nick.'

How the hell was it that his partner knew him so well?