Way 57
Thank him for things he's done around the house. (It means a lot to men).
The following is a copy and paste of one particular set of instant messages (because Danny likes having blackmail material and is really happy they were able to clone Microsoft Office Communicator for use inside Five-0) which will forever go down in McDanno history as The Most Roundabout Way to Thank Someone in the History of All Time. Danny has also given it the following subtitle: Without Actually Thanking Them At All (or: SEALs Are Emotionally Constipated and I Have Proof).
Danny's also wondering where the hell the term "McDanno" came from. He doesn't like it.
Steve, on the other hand, thinks it's catchy.
10:08 a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: Danny.
10:08 a.m. Daniel A. Williams: Steve.
10:11 a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: What happened to that pile of boxes by my back door?
10:12 a.m. Daniel A. Williams You mean the boxes full of crap from your childhood closet?
10:20 a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: That wasn't crap, Danny, that was stuff from when I was a kid.
10:21 a.m. Daniel A. Williams: Hence why it was in your childhood closet, so my superior deductive reasoning would deduce.
10:22a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: Hence?
10:22a.m. Daniel A. Williams: Do not mock my vocabulary.
10:25a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: You didn't answer my question.
10:26a.m. Daniel A. Williams: The boxes of your crap…sorry…stuff…from your childhood which you removed from the closet in your childhood room and piled next to your back door have been sealed – ha, SEALed – and labeled and stacked on shelves in your garage.
10:33a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: You didn't have to do that.
10:34a.m. Daniel A. Williams: I am very well aware that I did not have to do that. However, because I am also very well aware of certain issues you might be prone to experiencing when anything having to do with your childhood comes into play, I thought perhaps I would save myself having to look at that pile of boxes every single time I come to leave crumbs on your table by taking matters into my own hands.
10:40a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: So you moved the boxes because you're a neat freak.
10:41a.m. Daniel A. Williams: I will admit to having a certain desire for things to remain tidy. I will cop to 'neat freak' which, I should point out here, is a much more lofty moniker than 'freak' which is what I might label you, my friend.
10:50a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: Moniker, huh?
10:50a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: OK
10:51a.m. Daniel A. Williams: OK? That's what you're going with?
10:56a.m. Steven J. McGarrett: Yes?
10:57a.m. Daniel A. Williams: Freak.
(It should be noted here that, in Steve's defense, he did purchase a six-pack of beer and even visited Danny's shithole apartment with it. And wound up staying until they'd finished the six-pack. This, however, is countered by Danny's complaint that due to said drinking of beers, one Steven J. My-Arms-And-Legs-Are-Freakishly-Long McGarrett subsequently fell asleep on the fold-out and wound up nearly suffocating one long-suffering detective. Who, had he decided perhaps McGarrett's gesture of beer was indeed meant as a thank-you for the whole Box-Removal Incident, found the sentiment wholly negated when he was moved to near-homicide during the wee hours after finding himself precariously perched on the metal bar at the edge of his fold-out. Which explained why he wound up sleeping on the floor.)
(It should further be noted that when McGarrett awoke the next morning and realized Danny had let him get a good night's sleep by not waking him up to move him "the hell off my bed!" at two-thirty in the morning – and had gotten no sleep whatsoever due to having tried to accomplish the elusive feat of sleeping on the hard floor – he decided it might be a good idea to try the Six-Pack-of-Beers Maneuver again since he couldn't just open his mouth and say "Thank you." And therefore it's entirely possible that Danny showed remarkable restraint in not shooting Steve in the face before sending him out the front door for malasadas and coffee.)
But, you know, whatever happens with childhood boxes and inside shithole apartments is really nobody's business but theirs.
Until Danny decides he wants revenge for the I Slept On the Floor For You Incident's subsequent week-long backache. Then all bets are off.
Author's Note: Way 58 occurs prior to the last three episodes of Season 1.
Way 58
Don't expect credit for all you do for him. Do it as "unto the Lord."
"Detective Williams, do you know why I asked for this meeting?"
"No, Governor Jameson."
She smiled, rose to her feet, and picked up a frame from her desk that honestly, Danny hadn't even noticed. "Would you rise, please?"
Danny stood, hands clammy, wondering if he was about to be stripped of his badge for all those times Steve had made him do shit that didn't just border on illegal, but in many cases, actually was.
Rat bastard. Danny was going to kill him. Just add that to the list of illegal shit.
"It is my honor, on behalf of the State of Hawaii, the Honolulu Police Department, and the Five-0 Task Force, to bestow upon you this." She stopped in front of him and read from the piece of paper mounted inside the frame.
Danny was suddenly confused as hell, because surely they didn't give out certificates when you got kicked off the force.
"The State of Hawaii and the Honolulu Police Department," she read, "are honored to name Detective Daniel Williams of the Hawaii Five-0 special task force 'Officer of the Year.'"
Danny's jaw dropped. To say he was gobsmacked would be the understatement of the year.
"For service above and beyond the call of duty…"
Okay, well, considering he was Steve McGarrett's partner, that was certainly accurate.
"For placing his life in great peril on a daily basis…"
Again, chalk that one up to Steve.
"For doing everything he can to keep the State of Hawaii safe for all Hawaiians and guests…"
Well, of course! After all, Gracie now calls this place home.
"And for continuing to display great courage and willingness to sacrifice…"
He just didn't have a comeback for that one.
Even his mind was speechless.
"It is our great privilege to bestow this award on this tenth day of May, two thousand and eleven."
Jameson offered the certificate in her left hand, and then reached out and shook his hand with her right. Someone who'd snuck in when Danny was busy with his speechless mind snapped two photos and then was gone.
"I…" he started, but failed to finish.
"Detective Williams, you will be expected at the 200 Club's awards ceremony eight days from today. You will receive a hand-delivered invitation, and your entire team is also invited for the informal but highly visible," she emphasized that last word even without italics, "bestowment of this award."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am," Danny managed to say, albeit somewhat breathlessly as he took the framed certificate and stared at it like it might be one of those secret agent messages that blows up after you listen to it.
"Now go out there and keep on making me proud," she said, waving her hand at him to indicate dismissal, but still with that frighteningly happy smile on her face.
Danny supposed it probably made her look really good to have a member of her task force named Officer of the Year.
But you had to be nominated for this stuff, and Danny knew it.
He made it to the parking lot, got his car door open, and wondered who the hell would've nominated the haole that everyone in HPD was glad to get rid of when he'd gotten commandeered by St—
Noooo. No freakin' way. Steve McGarrett, do something that—which involved filling out forms and paperwork—from a guy who said 'thanks' so rarely Danny could count the times on one ha—holy—really? Just. Really?
A smile crept across Danny's face.
Well, he had always…and okay, maybe Steve wasn't as…but still, this was…really, it…Steve?
The smile broadened.
That sneaky sonofabitch had just earned his Freaky Ninja title for the rest of his life.
Now it was time to go thank him.
