A/N: It looks like this entire collection is going to be told from points of view other than Steve's, which I didn't know would happen when I started writing. Maybe he'll have something to say later. I have two more to post, and then I might be finished. We shall see if more ideas come to me. I'm having a great time writing dialogue for Steve and Danny, and I like the challenge of getting voices right for characters I didn't create. If other scenarios for this prompt germinate in my mind, I'll likely keep going.
Many thanks for each and every review! It's fun to see what readers think of my scribbling, and which moments you like the most.
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4. Rest
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Chin's knowledge of the current situation can be summed up numerically. Number of hours it took to close the case after the governor handed it to Five-0: sixty-seven. Number of hours his boss and friend has spent awake: seventy-one. Number of stitches needed to close the split in McGarrett's forehead, which he acquired during the takedown of their latest homicide suspect: eleven.
"Drinks," Kono announces to the room just after seven, the evening they get to file another case closed. "Immediately."
"I may never have heard more beautiful words than these." Danny angles a look toward McGarrett's office. "And I'm not above leaving without him if he doesn't finish, like, now."
The boss is on the phone—yes, with the governor—wrapping up last details, last technicalities. Pacing, gesturing with his free hand. His actions hold as much energy as they did three days ago. The giveaway is the circles under his eyes—dusky yesterday, bruised blue today.
"Guys," Chin says.
Danny frowns. "Whatever you're about to say, it isn't conducive to the night I'm currently visualizing."
Chin tips his head toward Steve's pacing form. "I think this is one of those closes that should be celebrated at Casa McGarrett."
"Wait a minute." Kono's studying him now, not bothering to be subtle, but he doesn't look in their direction. "He hasn't gone home …"
"Since we got this case," Chin says.
"Crap." Danny shakes his head. "You're right. He must have gone through every clean shirt in his office by now."
You'd think a SEAL would be trained to sleep anywhere, and Steve probably is, but it's not one of his habits. He doesn't catch naps—not in his office, not in his car, not anywhere. He allows himself to sleep in one location only: home. And like everything else, when Steve McGarrett sleeps, he puts one hundred fifty percent of himself into the task. Chin has wondered if he's subconsciously reclaiming a life of relative safety after his time in the service. Maybe, now that his body no longer has to be prepared at all times, hearing and sensing danger before he even awakes, something inside him has latched onto slumber as a rest that's deeper than physical.
"Why is he still coherent?" Danny's question is more of a grumble.
Chin shrugs. "My guess is he won't be for long."
"I should have noticed."
"You've been preoccupied."
Danny gives a snort. "That's one word for it. Another word is harangued by the least reasonable ex alive. And yes, that was one word. Hyphenated." He sighs and returns his attention to Steve. "How does he manage to ruin daily life so spectacularly? Crashing the party before it even starts. It's like he plans these things."
Kono laughs.
At this point, Chin's worn down enough that a random movie on TV sounds at least as enjoyable as drinks on the town. And after a long case, Kono tends to be the first of all of them to prefer quiet, finding a less populated beach to surf and unwind. Danny will be the holdout; Chin looks to him.
"So, consensus?"
Danny raises his hand as if they're taking classroom attendance. "Yeah, sure. But we're not bringing the beer. We're raiding his fridge."
"You're what?" Steve strides into the room, hands on his hips.
"We've taken a vote," Chin says.
"A vote to drink my beer?"
"Come on, boss. Nobody wants to go out tonight. We're beat." Kono doesn't crack a smile. "Ohana night at your place."
Steve eyes them each in turn, first Kono, then Danny …
Chin meets his gaze without blinking, and something flickers behind McGarrett's eyes. It's faint, submerged under layers of strain and fatigue. It might be amusement.
"Fine," Steve says to all of them. "I will offer up my stock of alcohol for the benefit of the team."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, Danny, I'm not kidding. And stop acting like I've never made a personal sacrifice in the name of ohana before."
"The last time I filched from your fridge, you threatened to break my hand."
"I did not threaten anything. I reminded you I have close combat training that includes breaking certain bones in a single move."
"Those bones being my fingers as they curled around the beer can."
"That was your inference."
They walk together, two-by-two, down the hall toward the exit. Danny and Steve match each other's pace ahead of Chin and Kono, who share smirks and eye rolls all the way to the vehicles.
Hours later, they're sprawled in the boss's living room. A few empty cans sit on a low table. Danny commandeers the TV remote and finds Quantum of Solace as it's starting, which ignites a debate on the best and worst Bond movies, the best and worst Bonds, and the best and worst Bond girls. During that last, Kono snatches up a throw pillow and chucks it at each of them in turn. Halfway through the film, Chin looks across to the loveseat, which Steve claimed the minute they got here. He's been silent for the last ten minutes.
Chin gives a chuckle. "Guys."
Kono follows his gaze and grins. "Danny, check out our fearless leader."
Steve is half-curled, the loveseat not long enough for his legs, his head propped on one of the arm rests. His arms are hugging the other throw pillow to his chest. The dim TV light casts the black stitches across his head more starkly, and his shadowed eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm of peace.
"Oh, for crying out loud." Danny stands and sets the remote aside. "We leave him like that, he'll wake up with a crick in his neck and gripe about it for a day."
He crosses the room and bumps Steve's shoulder. "Hey, Steve."
The man doesn't stir.
Kono shakes her head. "When he crashes, he really crashes."
"Hey." Danny jostles him again. "Steven. You can't spend the night twisted up like a pretzel."
"Unh." Steve shoves Danny's hand away. "Tired, Danno."
Danny crouches in front of him. "Right. Because you're an idiot who just stayed awake for three days. Come on, get up and go to bed."
"No."
Chin holds in a smile as he moves the few steps across to the loveseat and stands over them both. "Come on, McGarrett, on your feet."
He infuses his voice with enough steel to rouse the soldier in Steve's subconscious. Steve's arms tighten around the pillow, but he opens his eyes, then stretches his legs and sets his feet on the floor.
"'Kay." He blinks at Kono. "Hi."
She laughs. "Go on to sleep, boss. We'll finish the movie and see ourselves out."
"Yeah, okay."
He stands and sways, and Chin braces an arm around his shoulders. Chin waves Danny off and walks Steve into the bedroom, lowers him to the bed in his clothes, finds a stray blanket in an abandoned puddle on a chair. He tosses the blanket over Steve, whose eyes have already closed again.
He moves to leave the room, but Steve's voice drifts to him, half-asleep.
"Hey, Chin."
"Yeah, brah."
"Coming here."
"Yeah?"
"Mahalo."
They should never assume he doesn't know what they're up to. Chin smiles into the dark. "Our pleasure, Steve."