Way 41
Brag about her to other people behind her back.

"Steven."

"Mm?"

"May I ask, on what occasion have you been required to call on one Dr. Asano recently? And I'm taking the stiffening of your spine as confirmation that you have, indeed, done so."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Danny. I have no reason to see her now that the case is over. You're the one who was tripping over your tongue in front of her, not me."

"Do not try to deflect this conversation into the realm of me being tongue-tied in the face of a beautiful woman, McGarrett. I will have you know that has been happening to men since the beginning of time and is not at all unusual to us mere mortals, though I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that. This is about when, and why, you have seen Gabby recently."

"Oh, it's Gabby now, is it?"

"Yes, it's—answer the question!"

"What makes you think I've seen her at all since the heiau? And why is your face turning red…are you…blushing?"

"I do not blush, I get heated."

"You think?"

"Shut up. Answer the question."

"Can't do both, Danny."

"Then just…goddamn, what did you tell her?"

"Tell who?"

"I will shoot you in the face. What did you tell Gabby about me?"

"Okay, all right, fine. I went back to pick up the coin you left with her, you know, because you're such a stickler about evidence, Danny, do not roll your eyes at me. And she asked me about you."

"If you don't tell me—"

"I'm trying to, why do all of our conversations go on for over a year before they get to the point? That doesn't require an answer, stop glaring at me. She asked if you're a good man."

"She asked…are you serious?"

"No, I get off on discussing your love life with you."

"Why would this not in any way surprise me?"

"Yes, I'm serious. That's what she asked me."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what did you tell her, Steve? Oh, God. Why are you smirking?"

"I didn't tell her anything, D. I just said you've got it where it counts."

"Oh, my God, I hate you. I hate you so much. That explains it. You are dead, McGarrett, dead."

"Explains what? What are you killing me for this time?"

"It explains why, O He Of The Idiot Remarks To Women My Partner Is Interested In, one Dr. Gabrielle Asano made quicker work of divesting me of my clothing last night than I did of the malasada you brought me yesterday morning!"

"Ohhh, a wildcat, huh? Always gotta watch out for the quiet ones."

"No, she's not…Christ, she's not normally a wildcat, she listened to you and misinterpreted what you said to her as meaning I'm that kind of…that I…she thought you meant…I'm seriously going to shoot you. Now. As in, you should run. Hide behind bulletproof glass. Like…right now."

"Oh, come on, Danny, you look more relaxed than I've seen you the entire time I've known you. I'm going to guess it's because you got lucky, and – and – I'm going to pat myself on the back for the role I played in that."

"Okay, no. No. Just for the record, you, my crazy-ass ninja SEAL partner, did not play any role in me getting laid. What, wait, why are you trying so hard not to laugh? Oh. Oh, shit. Kono. Or Chin. One of them's standing right behind me. Am I right?"

"Uh…actually, both of them are, Danny."

"So, Boss, Chin and I were just wondering…anything you two want to, uh…get off? Your chests, that is."

…

…

"Kono."

"Yeah, cuz?"

"Why did Steve just run out of here like his ass was on fire?"

"Probably for the same reason Danny ran after him with his gun in his hand."

"Think we ought to intervene?"

"Nah. We'll just meet them later at the hospital."

"Good plan."

Way 42
Share your thoughts and feelings with her.

Funny thing about having anyone stay with you, even if it's only for one night, is you find out so much about them. Steve, for example, finds out his partner is more insane than he could ever be because seriously, who doesn't like the sound of ocean waves? Hours upon hours of music and relaxation CDs have been created to the backdrop of that sound. Machines specifically designed to mimic it, shrinks prescribing it over pills to help their patients sleep.

Who doesn't like it? The same guy who doesn't like the beach.

Figures. Of all things, he never figured on that being a bone of contention between them.

And then there's Danny's morning ritual. In spite of the fact that Steve rather unceremoniously opened the shower door, reached in and shut the water off while Danny's hair was plastered to his head by conditioner, Danny has systematically refused to take shorter showers.

And no matter what Daniel says, Steven is not anal retentive, thank you very much.

He's not.

He's just…well…he's been this way since he was eighteen and entered the world of the United States Navy. He can't help having it drilled into him – sometimes literally – that these are the rules you live by.

You conserve, taking up as little of the world as possible with your existence. Hence the three-minute showers. You only put into your body what you want to get out of it. Hence a healthy non-car-filled diet. You must always be ready for anything to happen. Hence a strict exercise regimen and plenty of weaponry easily accessible no matter where you are at any given time.

These are the rules Steve has lived by, and some of them have saved his bacon on numerous occasions.

But then there's this, right here. This, where Danny just walks into Steve's bedroom like sleeping on the guy's couch has given him one hundred percent freedom to invade every last nook and cranny of Steve's house, top to bottom. It's true that Steve had left the bedroom door open, but in Steve's world, you didn't just walk into someone's private domain without knocking or asking first. Hell, he could've been in the middle of a decent session with his right hand, and how awkward would that have been?

See, the thing is, Steve's thinking getting caught handling one of his other daily morning routines would've been a lot less awkward than the position he finds himself in right now. He's standing there in his briefs and slippers, and there's the puff and hiss coming from the object in his hand, and Danny's gaping at him as though he'd walked in him ravishing a blow-up doll.

"What?" Steve finally asks when Danny's dropped jaw and wide eyes become too much. He resumes what he was doing.

"You," Danny says, and it seems to be all he can figure out to say because then he falls silent.

Steve finishes what he's doing, sets the object down, careful not to touch it and burn himself, and inspects his handiwork. "What?" he asks again as he folds the cotton precisely, turns and tucks it into the bottom of the pile in his top dresser drawer.

"I'm just, uh…" Danny says, hooking his thumb toward the bedroom door.

"Danny, what is your problem?" Because Steve's had enough of this. He doesn't understand the weirdness going on here. At all.

Danny seems to collect himself with great effort, swallowing a few times, running a hand over his already slicked-back hair, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, flexing his fingers into and out of fists. At last, the Fount of Jersey Wisdom speaks.

"I do not understand how a man who wears cargo pants and four-to-a-pack Wal-Mart tee shirts and off-the-rack polos," and here Danny takes a moment to gesture wildly at McGarrett and what surrounds him, "actually stands there and—and—"

Steve really doesn't understand the problem. "Did you not have your coffee yet?"

"Coffee? You're standing there ironing your goddamn tighty-whiteys and you're asking me about coffee?"

Steve just stares at him like Danny's lost his mind which, in all fairness, is a distinct possibility. Danny stares back, then rolls his eyes heavenward, shakes his head, throws his hands up in the air in utter despair and leaves the room.

Steve takes the last pair of clean underwear out of the laundry basket, blinks at the now-empty space on the other side of the ironing board with confusion etched into his brow, and asks the empty room, "What?"