Disclaimer: I don't own anything; all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
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"I don't get it." Lori says, sitting down on the edge of Danny's desk. Danny looks up from an ongoing game of solitaire (hey, there's not much to do when they're all sitting around waiting for the dental records to get an ID on their vic) and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I mean, I've never really had any problems getting along with people before. Especially people I work with. But ever since I've been assigned to Five-0 it's like everything I say comes out wrong." She frowns prettily, and why she's telling him this is anybody's guess.
"You're doing fine talking to me." Danny remarks, gesturing wide with his hands, as if to say, see? Because that's really all the reassurance he can provide at this juncture. Lori is okay, generally, except for those times when she decides to randomly offer up personal and potentially embarrassing information about herself for no discernible reason. Like she's doing right now.
"I mean, Chin is nice, but then he calls me kid sometimes, which—he's, what, ten years older than me? It feels like his way of keeping a distance. Kono is always cautious, and I was assigned here at about the time she lost her badge, so I guess I can see where she's coming from. And Steve is just—I don't get him. It's like he doesn't even know I'm there most of the time."
Danny is kind of impressed she managed to say all that in one breath. "Okay." He says in a voice that's tinged with amusement. "And you're telling me this because…?"
Lori tilts her head, widens her eyes at him. "Well, Steve's your partner…" She says hopefully, letting him fill in the blanks. As if Steve's some video game and all she needs to figure him out is the cheat codes. Danny sighs.
"Look, Lori. Steve is a simple guy. He likes guns, tackling people, sports that involve a high mortality rate, and Kono. He doesn't appreciate dishonesty, or people confusing the army with the navy, or the necessity of adhering to proper police procedure. He also doesn't appreciate people flirting with him at work, or anytime really, since he's in a committed relationship. So, you know, if he treats you like you're not there sometimes, that's probably why." Danny twists his mouth in some semblance of a smile, hoping to take the sting off his words.
Lori's eyes get even wider, mouth parting in surprise, and even that expression seems rehearsed, like she's spent hours in front of a mirror figuring out the most flattering angles for it. It's mildly irritating to Danny; Rachel was never like that. Say what you will about his ex-wife (and he certainly has), but Rachel could be devastatingly beautiful without even knowing it—that was part of the appeal. But Lori is nothing like Rachel, and there's nothing about her looks that's accidental.
"You mean…Kono?" She asks, because apparently that made an impression.
"Yep." Danny confirms cheerfully, leaning back in his office chair. His very comfortable, high tech, leather office chair. You know something's not going right when your office furniture is better than your home furniture. "Is that so surprising?" He adds, because he's a jerk who likes putting people on the spot.
Lori gets up from his desk at this, shoving her hands in her jeans' pockets and looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I just didn't pick up on it." She admits pensively.
"That's because they're both consummate professionals." Danny says pointedly and Lori frowns uncertainly at the implied dig. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sort of in the middle of something here." He concludes with a wave, going back to his game of solitaire and effectively dismissing her.
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Steve has not driven off a cliff yet, but it's still a twenty minute drive to the office so anything is possible.
"I mean, two kids? In this economy? No thanks. I'd probably have to get a second job at Kamekona's, spend my weekends serving shrimp ice cream to tourists who don't know any better. And then I'd be working so many hours I'd never be able to see my kids, anyway, I'd be miserable. I'm telling you, I dodged a bullet with this one."
His partner is a good twelve minutes into this rant, which Steve regrettably instigated when he asked Danny how he'd been handling things with Rachel. He really should know better by now: every conversation in this car will inevitably turn unpleasant one way or another.
"I want three." Steve blurts out, because if he doesn't do something to stop this there's a good chance his ears will start bleeding soon.
"Three bullets? Well, I have long suspected you have a death wish, but that is weirdly specific, even for you."
"Three kids." Steve clarifies, rolling his eyes.
"You want…three kids? Okay, wait a second, it is news to me that you want kids at all." Danny scrunches up his face like he's in pain. "Do you even like kids?"
"I like Gracie." Steve points out with a quick glance at his partner. The so there is implied.
"Okay, that is not a convincing argument, my friend. Grace is in every way exceptional, but she is not the rule. Trust me, as someone who has been to my fair share of children's parties—most children are just snotty, loud mouthed terrors that crave sugar like vampires crave blood. And like vampires they will suck your life out of you until you're nothing but a husk of your former self."
Steve doesn't say anything for a moment, then—
"Danny. Do you even like kids?"
Danny predictably pretends not to hear this.
"And what does Kono have to say about this brilliant plan of yours to repopulate the earth with a race of little super SEALS, huh?"
"Three kids, Danny. Three. How you get from that to repopulating the planet is beyond me." But Danny is too far gone by now, the almost demented gleam in his eyes telling Steve he's in for another twelve minute rant, at least.
Oh, look. There's a palm tree. Maybe he should just crash the car into it and be done with this. Only with his luck he'll survive and then he'll have to share a hospital room with Danny who will probably never stop complaining about Steve crashing his car into a palm tree, of all things.
He drives past the tree, only mildly regretful; he really shouldn't try to give Danny any more reasons for hating palm trees.
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Steve is frowning down at the laptop, the decidedly neutral expression he usually wears tinged with obvious disapproval. This case is getting to all of them—two somewhat suspicious suicides of teens only a couple of weeks apart from each other, both kids attending a pretentious private school. They're at the second victims' house, Kono going through the girl's computer history and having just stumbled across a nasty website that's supposed to be the school newspaper.
Well, if this is journalism it's certainly leaning towards the tabloid side of things, Kono thinks as she scrolls through pictures that vary from embarrassing to downright horrifying. She mumbles something unflattering about private education under her breath, squinting at a vaguely disturbing entry about one of the teachers when Steve speaks up.
"Yeah, our kids are going to public school."
At first Kono's not quite sure she's heard him right, or that he's actually talking to her, really—this is the first she's hearing about this and for all she knows Steve's planning on marrying Danny, adopting cute little Asian babies and sending them to public school. Although—admittedly—that seems a bit farfetched.
The stunned silence stretches out uncomfortably and Kono leans back in her chair to see Steve still focused on the laptop screen, reading something over her shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the prevailing awkwardness. Typical.
"Our kids?" Kono manages eventually in a voice that's too high pitched to be normal. Because really. In this hypothetical universe where Kono Kalakaua and Steve McGarrett have decided to procreate, they have more than one kid?
"As in, plural?" She asks again, just to clarify. "How many hypothetical kids are we talking about here?"
Steve turns to her, looking startled, and then it seems realization sinks in and okay, now he looks like he remembers they're at work, where they're supposed to be acting über professional, and here he is, announcing his plans about their highly hypothetical future children together to the room. Or maybe he just remembered he's never actually talked to her about this and all of a sudden she finds out he's picking out schools and setting up college funds.
Kono keeps looking at Steve who keeps looking at her and they will just sit here staring at each other if someone doesn't say something soon. Please, please, please let someone say something soon.
"Steve's thinking three, actually." Danny contributes helpfully and Kono makes a note to be more specific with her wishes in the future. Steve breaks the little stare down they have going on to shoot his partner a scathing glare then turns back to her, his expression apologetic.
"Or two." Steve hurries to assure her. Because that's very comforting. "Two is fine."
Kono's blank look doesn't change, Steve appearing to grow more uncomfortable by the second.
"Or, you know, one." He continues uncertainly, watching her closely for a reaction. "One kid is plenty." Kono is sure her face is the very definition of what the fuck right now and Steve is still talking. Why is he still talking? "Takes up a lot of time and I mean, we're both busy people and it's more of a five year plan anyway—"
"Steve." Kono cuts him off warningly and he must have some self-preservation instinct because he shuts up.
"Right." He shifts his weight, crossing his arms, clearly ill at ease. "So, you think this has something to do with the case?" He asks, swiftly changing the subject, nodding towards the laptop screen and suddenly deciding to avoid all eye contact. Yeah. Very smooth, Steve.
Kono hesitates and when a glance behind her confirms that Danny and everyone else in the room (Lori, Chin, random HPD people who happen to be within hearing distance) are following the conversation with interest, she decides she'd better just write this off as Steve being weird again.
"Could be." She shrugs. "Some of this stuff is pretty nasty. Maybe we can find something on our victim?"
"Yeah, okay, let's try that." Steve agrees readily, one of his hands falling to squeeze her shoulder lightly before he steps away to talk to an officer and pretend the last five minutes never happened.
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