Way 41

Take special notice for what he has done for you and the family.

Danny has a theory.

Well, Danny has lots of theories, but there's this one particular theory he really isn't sure how to prove. Or disprove, if he's wrong. But he doesn't think he is.

It's just the little things he's noticed, and Danny always notices the little things. It's one reason he's a damn good detective. It's one reason he knew before Rachel did that their marriage was going to tank no matter how much he tried to deny it, fight it, ignore it. It's one reason he didn't squawk as much as he might've when a certain Lieutenant Commander made him his partner without even asking. All because of the little things.

So these little things, he's made a list – he makes lists all the time, sometimes just inside his mind, sometimes actually written down when a certain amount of analysis or scrutiny is required. This particular list falls into the latter category.

Danny pulls out a small spiral notebook and a pencil – because really, when you're trying to figure something out, #2s beat out ballpoints every time –sits down on his folded-up couch and opens to the exact page he wants.

The fact that he knows exactly where that is in the fifty-plus pages that have writing on them, he thinks, is cause for a small amount of concern. But he brushes that aside, folds the notebook in half, and concentrates on his list, which goes something like this:

1. No matter how many bad guys he puts away (or does away with), he never seems to think it's enough.

2. No matter how many times we tell him (and show him) that we've got his back, he seems to still think he's in things alone.

3. No matter how many times Chin or Kono say mahalo for something Steve does to help them out, or how many times I say thank you for the same thing, he never quite seems to think he's done enough for us.

4. No matter how many times I tell him he's always welcome to hang out with me and Grace when I have her, he always seems to think he's intruding, even when she squeals and hugs him and talks his ear off.

5. No matter how many times I initiate touching, his hand always stops shy of returning the gesture like he thinks he has no right to show physical affection to anyone except in extreme circumstances (like when I almost bought it).

Danny reads the list a few times, and his theory that's not written down but is firmly entrenched in his mind, goes a little something like this:

Steve McGarrett is incapable of internalizing (or maybe even of believing) that he's done so much for so many people that he's worthy of…

Problem is, Danny can never finish that sentence. Worthy of…what, exactly? Of praise? Of ohana? Of friendship? Of love?

Danny's not really sure. Now, he's known an awful lot of people in his life who are really uncomfortable with praise. He's never really stopped, though, and thought about the reasons behind that. Why do people not think they deserve the good things that come their way, even if those good things are sometimes as small as someone laying their hand on your arm? Or as minute as a genuine smile? Or a little bigger, like inviting someone along to the zoo for an afternoon of smelly animal cages, over-priced food and too many kids screaming over the chimp exhibit?

Leaning back and scratching his clean-shaven cheeks where it stung with a razor burn and aftershave combo, Danny knows he's got to find a way to prove whether his theory is right, even though it's a little less than complete. But to do so would mean trying to crawl inside the psychology of McGarrett's head, and isn't that more than just a little scary?

He's the one always telling Steve he needs to see a shrink.

But maybe it's not something for a shrink after all. Danny's eyes wander over his list again. These things are more of a personal nature, more about things that the family Steve has here on this island, his Five-0 family, see happen day in and day out. Maybe this is just another case for Five-0 and not for some man or woman who doesn't know Steve from an errant piece of seaweed floating into shore.

Although the idea of running an op on a former Navy SEAL might not go well if said SEAL finds out about it, but this is bugging Danny now to the point where he feels the need to take some sort of action.

So what can he do?

He could talk to Kono and Chin. Chin, especially, might have some insight given that he knew Steve as a kid, and knew Steve's dad pretty well. Maybe it goes that far back, to Steve's formative years. Or maybe not. Maybe whatever it is that makes it seem like Steve doesn't think he's worthy of…whatever…came after he was fifteen. After his mom died and he and Mary were sent to the mainland. So Chin wouldn't know much about that.

There is Joe White. Now, this is a guy Danny likes. And even though White claims to have trained Steve, it's pretty clear the guy isn't nearly as insane as Steve is in terms of throwing himself in front of (or being the thrower of) live ordnance at every possible opportunity.

Then again, maybe age has mellowed that Lt. Commander out. Maybe that's what Steve will be like in a decade or two. Danny shakes his head with a chuckle. Steve becoming calm like that just isn't something he can fathom. He thinks Steve will either die in the line of duty with Five-0 or on a SEAL mission, or he'll live for two hundred years, still chasing down bad guys and destroying Oahu one pineapple at a time long after Danny's turned to dust.

Well, that's a morbid thought. He shakes his head again, this time to clear it, and returns to his ruminations.

He's ruled out talking to Chin. There's Kono, but she's known Steve a marginally shorter time than Danny. She's observant and all, but Danny doubts Steve gives any of his secrets away to her. He just doesn't do that, not even with his partner. Although, Danny reasons, he's probably privy to a little more from Steve than the others.

So that sort of rules Kono out and anyway, she'd just want to walk up to Steve and ask him the questions, and that would make Steve clam up for the rest of their natural lives.

He thinks briefly of using his own daughter, and that should make him feel guilty but it doesn't, to wheedle information out of Steve. The first problem with that scenario is that Grace might not be able to keep the secret for very long that she's repeating what her father's telling her to. The second problem is that even though it wouldn't make him feel altogether that guilty, he knows he shouldn't use Gracie just to pick apart the mind of his partner.

Okay, so she's out. It's just Danny and his list and his incomplete theory. And that's when his eyes, flitting around his tiny apartment as he thinks all this through, land on the morning's newspaper now folded in half and lying atop the table.

It's opened to the Classifieds because Danny's been looking around to see if someone's selling a bed. His pull-out is killing his back, to the point where he's taken to sleeping on the couch in its folded state because at least then he doesn't feel like Steve's Navy uniform sword is lodged in his spine every morning that way. He's seen that thing up close and personal, and shivers involuntarily.

He sighs, pulling his thoughts away from dark blue suit jackets, colorful medals, white hats and silver swords, and puts the notebook down on the cushion next to him, levers himself off the couch and ambles to the newspaper. He grabs it, raises it to eye level, and his wandering gaze catches on something immediately. A slow smile spreads across his face because he knows Steve reads this part of the Classifieds every day, always looking for anything out-of-the-ordinary that might be related to a case, past or present.

Well, Danny thinks, his grin going at about a thousand watts right now, this will definitely be something out-of-the-ordinary for Steve to find. And maybe, just maybe, it'll speak to him in a way Danny, for all the words he can speak, and Chin and Kono, for all that they try, and Grace, for all the hugs and kisses she's bestowed upon him, haven't been able to.

Danny is watching very carefully the next morning. As usual, the paper's been delivered to Steve's desk by any number of good-looking women working in the palace who think that acting like a faithful dog will get the Commander's attention. Poor things, Steve barely even registers how the paper gets there to begin with. Danny can't help but feel sorry for them and hope maybe one day for one of them it might actually pay off.

Be the delivery system as it may, Danny settles back to observe as unobtrusively as possible. This is a one-man strategic operation and the fallout could be spectacular. Or it could be a complete dud, in which case Danny might have to get more creative.

So he waits. Steve comes in. Steve bids him good morning. Catches Kono entering and does the same. Chin's last in, but calls out an Aloha to which Steve responds as he scans the front page of the Star-Advertiser. Then he discards that and moves to the Sports section, catching up on the highlights.

Then, as Danny knew he would, Steve leans as far back as his office chair will allow, holds up the Classifieds in front of his face, and begins his morning ritual of checking them. Danny can tell down to the nanosecond when Steve sees the ad he placed. It isn't so much a movement that clues him in as it is a lack of movement. Steve stills like he's all alone in the middle of enemy territory and just heard a twig snap.

That's all for a good ten seconds, and then the paper slowly lowers. Danny quickly averts his gaze to his cell phone, where he's trying like hell to type an email out to Rachel without misspelling every other word or engaging the damn auto-correct and enraging her because his goofy thumbs have prompted highly inappropriate word usage where an ex-wife is concerned.

But he can see Steve very clearly out of his peripheral vision, and Steve is scanning the bullpen like there might be ninjas or snipers or maybe even Men in Black hiding in plain sight ready to ambush him.

Next, Steve folds the paper in half and then in half again, undoubtedly leaving this particular ad on the top where he reads it again, his eyes the only thing moving. Danny can feel the moment Steve's eyes land on him. It's like some sort of sixth Steve-centric sense he has now after three years of being the guy's partner. He knows when Steve's looking at him, he knows sometimes exactly what Steve's thinking and what's gotten really weird is he's been able to tell when Steve's in some kind of trouble even when he's nowhere near the guy.

All things Danny's made lists for and will think about at some future date. Right now, it's about whether he can keep his face looking innocent enough that Steve doesn't suspect him. And there's no way Steve would just walk up to Chin or Kono and show them the ad, asking if either of them know anything about it. Because Steve would be too embarrassed to show it to them at all.

In fact, Danny speculates, at this very second, Steve might be trying to figure out how quickly he could remove all circulated Star-Advertisers from their shelves and newsstands before anyone else in Hawaii has a chance to read this particular little Classified.

Steve clears his throat, rises to his feet, tucks the newspaper under his arm, and walks out of the main office. Danny waits a few moments, ensuring Chin and Kono don't catch wind that he's purposely following Steve, and gets to his feet. He grabs a file from his desk and heads out into the hall. He finds Steve near the elevator, leaning against the wall like he's just had the wind knocked out of him.

Well, shit, that's not the reaction Danny wants. "Hey," he says just to make sure Steve's aware that he's coming closer. No, you don't want to get tackled by a startled SEAL, Danny speaks from experience on this matter. In fact, he suspects that in the world of civilians, he might be the foremost authority on this matter. "What you got there?" Danny continues, tipping his head to the newspaper.

Steve meets his eyes and in the few moments he holds Danny's gaze, Danny sees that his partner knows it was him, and just doesn't know what to do with either the contents of the ad or the realization about who placed it.

"It's Friday," Danny says, probably needlessly, but this is how he's going to play it. "Not sure what I'm going to do without Gracie." It's a fair thing to say. After all, Danny had had his daughter for the last three weekends in a row thanks to his ex-wife's insane charity event schedule. This weekend is going to be rough on Danny, he'll be missing her, and Steve knows this already. So it's a good way to open things up a bit.

Steve nods once, like he's assessing the situation – and he probably is – before responding. He seems to come to some sort of decision, though Danny's sure he won't find out until later that night what exactly the decision is…nor, exactly, what impact his ad scheme has had on his partner. But Steve nods again and the ghost of a smile settles his mouth into an upward curve.

"I was thinking fish, grill, beer," Steve says with what he thinks is nonchalance, but which Danny sees right through.

And there, what do you know, he doesn't have to wait until tonight to find out whether the ad had an impact. He knows, and he has to fight back a grin. "I'll tell the others," he says, then turns on heel and heads back to the bullpen.

He can't help but grin like an idiot when he gets back to his computer and finds an email from the Star-Advertiser asking if he wants to extend the ad to appear in tomorrow's edition as well. No, he decides, no need. He'll just see how this weekend goes, see if they make any breakthroughs in whatever Steve's insecurities are that leads to feelings of such inadequacy in one who should never feel inadequate about anything given what he's capable of.

But Danny saves the email because he may need to use this quiet little weapon again. He looks up as Steve strides into the bullpen, glances at Danny, smiles warmly, stands just that much straighter, and continues on to his own office.

Then again, if Steve's body language is any indication, maybe Danny won't have to use the Classified Op ever again. Nothing would make him happier.

Here is the ad Danny placed:

WANTED

Lieutenant Commander SEAL who
keeps Hawaii safe for little
girls; who isn't as alone here as
he thinks; who's done more for us
than he has any clue about; who
is always welcome on certain
weekends and who is entitled to
reciprocate gestures at will
without having to ask first. Must
be willing to buy and share beer
(at his place), BBQ a fish or two
and listen when his team tells
him they've got his back. Reply
via ohana only.

Way 42

Brag about him to other people both in front of him and even when he's not there.

"Well, my Danno knows how to do that better than anyone."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Your Danno cooks?"

Grace rolls her eyes. "Yes, Uncle Steve. Of course he cooks! How do you think he feeds me?"

"Good point," Steve says with a face he's certain Danny has a name for firmly in place.

"He's also the best proofreader ever."

"Well, that I believe," Steve says with a sincere nod. "After all, he's the one who does most of the paperwork for our cases."

"I know," Grace says like that is seriously last year's news.

"You do?"

"Mmhm."

Steve squints his eyes in the mid-day sun. Danny is still up near Kamekona talking to a suspect who doesn't know he's a suspect that they just happened to run into while heading for some shave ice in the sweltering heat.

"Does Danny talk about work a lot?" Steve asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster.

Grace nods as she bites a chunk of her shave ice off and lets it melt in her mouth. "Other than me, he says Five-0's his life," she states. "What else does he have to talk about?"

"Another good point," Steve says and tilts his head. "What else does your Danno do better than anyone?"

"Catch bad guys to keep me safe."

"I think you're right. I think he does do that better than anyone," Steve agrees with a smile.

"And he also colors so much better than I do."

"I don't know if I've ever colored," Steve responds with a small frown.

"Well, Danno will teach you how! I'm almost able to get through a whole page without going outside the lines! He's a really good teacher."

Steve thinks about how Danny's always trying to teach him police procedure and his frown deepens.

Grace looks up at him, wide-eyed and serious. Steve returns the look, certain he's about to hear something very important indeed.

"And you know what, Uncle Steve?" she asks in a near-whisper.

"What?" he asks solemnly.

"He is the best father ever," she replies in the same quiet voice. "You want to know why?"

"Yes, very much," Steve replies, and he means it.

"Because he's the only father anyone at my school has ever heard of who will move so far away from home just to see his daughter."

Steve thinks that's the most grown-up thing he has ever heard come out of Gracie's mouth. It's also very telling, that she understands the situation well enough to sound like she's in awe of it.

And Steve thinks maybe he should start listening to Danny a little bit more when he's giving a (rather loud) lesson in waiting for backup or interrogating suspects. He steals a glance up to where Danny seems to be, from his body language, taking pity on the haole who's even shorter than Danny is, if the way his arm's gone around the guy's shoulder is any indication.

"Your Danno is the best father ever, Grace," Steve finally says, and the girl beams at him. He can't help but return it. "I've known that since the first day I met him."

They sit there in companionable silence for a few minutes until a shadow falls across them. Steve looks up to find the object of their conversation standing over where they're seated at a picnic table. Danny leans down and kisses the top of Grace's head, right where her hair's parted for her trademark pigtails.

"Enjoying your shave ice?" he asks her, and Grace nods while enthusiastically biting off another chunk of the frozen concoction. Then Danny straightens and his eyes tell his partner they'll discuss whatever Danny found out from one Sammy Markham after Grace has left their immediate vicinity.

"Danno?"

"Yeah, Monkey?" Danny says as he swings his leg up and over the table's bench to sit on Grace's other side.

"Is it wrong to brag?"

Danny considers this for a moment. Steve's listening just as intently as Grace is, because for all that Danny pontificates during work hours together, he tends to find out more about his partner by listening to his conversations with Grace than he does on the job.

"It depends on what you're bragging about, I think," Danny says. His eyes flick to meet Steve's and then settle on his daughter's. "For example, if you were to brag about the big, expensive house you live in with your mom and Stan, to kids who maybe don't have as much privilege as you do, that would be bad."

Grace nods. To Steve, it almost looks like she's committing every one of Danny's words to memory and he has to stop the snort that wants to escape when he thinks of how many terabytes that man's words would use up.

"So when is bragging not bad?"

"Well," Danny says, and seems to be choosing his words carefully, "I guess if you're bragging about someone's accomplishments, as long as you're just doing it because you're proud of them, then that kind of bragging isn't bad."

"Good," Grace says with a satisfied couple of nods. "Because I was just bragging about you to Uncle Steve."

Danny's face turns pink. Steve has a bad feeling that at least the tips of his own ears have gone the same color.

"Were you now?" Danny asks, and his eyes meet Steve's. Steve looks away. "And what exactly were you telling Uncle Steve about me, Monkey?"

"That you can cook," Grace starts, ticking her points off on one hand with the bottom of the shave ice's paper cone, "that you color really good, inside the lines and everything."

"That I do," Danny says.

"That you are a good proofreader, an awesome catcher of bad guys, and that you're the best father ever."

There are never moments Steve enjoys more than when Danny's heart gets way too big for his words and he has to use his hands or arms instead. This is one such moment, when Danny leans forward and takes his daughter into his embrace so fiercely it makes the picnic table scoot an inch.

"Thank you, Grace," Danny says as he releases her, and Steve pretends not to notice that sand or salt or something must have gotten into Danny's eyes in the nonexistent breeze that hasn't picked up.

"You're welcome, Daddy," she says, and Grace doesn't use that word a lot, so Steve thinks it must have serious significance for the little girl who grew up calling her father something like Danno. "Besides, I guess it isn't really bragging when the person you're bragging to knows all of it already like Uncle Steve says he does."

This time, Steve's sure his entire face does go pink when Danny looks at him. But what the hell. He can always blame it on the Hawaiian sun.