Way 73

Try not to argue over money. Peacefully discuss future expenditures instead.

"Do you ever take Catherine out to dinner?"

Steve frowned and looked over at his partner. Perched on stools at a local watering hole, they were each holding a bottle of beer, and Steve had been about to take a swig when Danny's question had popped out.

"I have, but we tend to, uh, you know. Stay home. More often than not."

"All right, what about going out with your buddies? You know, when you were in the Army."

Steve sighed. He wasn't going to rise to the bait this time. "I guess we went out some, to blow off steam. Not dinner or anything, more like what we're doing here." Steve waved at the bar and then gestured between himself and Danny for emphasis. "But there was a lot of training we had to keep up on, so that's usually what we did nights."

Danny nodded.

Steve looked thoughtful.

Danny sighed.

Steve frowned. "What?"

"Well, it just goes to show that you have absolutely no idea how any of this works," Danny explained, waving his hand in a circular fashion to indicate the bar, them, their beers. "You really don't. You are socially impaired."

"Socially impaired?"

"Yes," Danny said with a firm nod of his head, like he was revealing one of the Secrets of the Universe.

"Is this about me forgetting my wallet again?"

"You think? I mean, look, you insist on wearing cargo pants like they're the latest fashion trend, which means you have what, like, fifty pockets on each leg, and you'll carry bulbous grenades in ten of them but not leave room in even one for your flat wallet." Danny looked over at him. Even sitting down, he had to look up a bit. "This tells me that you either purposely forget your wallet so you don't have to pay if we wind up going anywhere that requires money which is, you know, pretty much everywhere or, and I'll admit it might be a combination of both, mind you, or, you are so socially stunted that it never occurs to you someone might actually want to go somewhere with you."

"Bulbous grenades," Steve repeated and Danny rolled his eyes.

They were silent for a moment.

"Well, you know," Steve finally said after having finished half his beer in one swallow, "the last time I went out with friends just for the sake of it was when I had them, when I was a kid here in Hawaii."

"And what, they paid?"

"No, Dad always gave me money. Or Mom," Steve replied. "The Navy doesn't give you much time for a social life when you've dedicated your life to it."

Danny studied his friend. His partner. The albatross around his neck. He studied him carefully, because it was always unexpected moments like these, when Steve wasn't looking at him, when his voice made it sound for all the world like they were just discussing the day's downpour, when Danny hadn't really out-and-out asked him a specific question…it was times like these when he got little glimpses into what made Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett tick.

Steve had probably been so miserable after being sent alone to the mainland, he had kept to himself, been depressed. Mourning his mother. Mourning the loss of his family. Mourning the loss of Hawaii, which he loved to his core.

And then escaping to the Navy.

Dedicating himself to his studies. Being the best at everything, whether academically or physically. Women (or men, because hey, Danny was an open-minded kind of guy) probably propositioned Steve more than most guys breathed in an out in a day, and so whatever things he'd had over the years had probably been casual. And Steve didn't trust others easily – for obvious reasons – so it was possible he hadn't had many friends once leaving Hawaii.

And even if he had considered people to be friends, running around the world from one mission to another and, as he'd said, keeping himself fit and up-to-date on the latest that every Naval Intelligence officer or SEAL needed to know, probably consumed every waking moment of his life. So things like 'going out,' whether on dates or just with a group of people, Danny realized, were most likely not things McGarrett was all that familiar with.

Still didn't explain why the man refused to carry his wallet, though.

"In the SEALs, you only carry what you need for the mission," Steve said, as though the man had read Danny's mind. "Every single item on your person is for the mission. You don't carry your driver's license, your credit cards, your library card, your cash or whatever. You don't have things like that on you when you go out." Steve took another swig of his beer, nearly draining the bottle. Finally…finally…he looked Danny in the eye. "Our dog tags are all we need for identification if we go down."

Danny swallowed hard, trying to push the sudden deluge of images from his mind that insisted upon showing him Steve McGarrett being shot full of holes, going down in a blaze of glory as he leapt from the roof of some weird building in some faraway country Danny probably couldn't even pronounce the name of. Of Steve lying there on the ground, eyes wide open to stare Death in the face, alone and lifeless in the pitch-dark night, with only a gleam of silver around his neck to tell anyone who he was.

He supposed all the families of military men felt that way. Hell, he knew the families of cops felt that way. It had been one of the biggest problems in his and Rachel's marriage, this idea that any given moment could be his last because what he did was dangerous.

But at least Danny had carried a wallet. A wallet with a photo of Rachel. And then, later, a photo of Grace. One that was a family portrait of the three of them taken each year at Christmas to be used for their family Christmas card.

Suddenly this wasn't so much about McGarrett never having his wallet on him as it was about how devoid of normality his life had been since the day his mother had died. Danny felt incredible guilt wash over him like a tidal wave for being so goddamn petty. Quietly, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, took out a twenty and laid it on the bar, shoving it more toward the bartender's side than his and Steve's.

He could feel Steve watching him, watching his hands, looking at the wallet and the money. Front and center there in his tri-fold wallet, was Grace's latest school picture.

"Can I?" Steve asked softly, reaching out toward the photo.

Danny grinned. Any opportunity to share and brag about his daughter would always make him grin. He thumbed the photo out from behind the plastic that protected it and placed it into Steve's waiting hand.

The soft smile that graced his partner's face as he gazed at Grace's big grin and twin pigtails made Danny wonder if Steve wasn't maybe remembering the last time he'd seen a school photo of Mary Ann before his life had literally fallen apart.

"I carried a photo with me for a while, in whatever pocket I could fit it into," Steve confessed, and Danny's eyes were riveted to his partner's face in an instant. "My mom liked to go to church, and every year they'd take every church member's family photo. I remember how much I hated it because they made me wear a suit and tie for it." He huffed out a laugh and glanced at Danny.

Danny smoothed his hand down his loosened tie and grinned. "That would explain your aversion to ties," he said.

Steve nodded and smirked. "And Mary would get so upset. She was always a tomboy, you know? She hated wearing dresses, but Mom always bought her one and made her wear it, and so in every single one of those family portraits, I looked like I was being strangled and Mary looked like she was about three seconds from stripping down to her underwear."

Danny laughed out loud at the image and Steve followed suit as he handed the photo of Grace back to her father.

"The last one of those I had, I carried around until it was so faded and wrinkled that it actually disintegrated when I forgot and left it in a pocket and it went through the laundry." Steve shrugged, watching as Danny carefully reseated Grace's photo back into its spot in his wallet.

Shoving the wallet back into his pocket, Danny watched as the bartender took his twenty, went to the cash register, made change and brought it back. Danny left the ones as a tip and held the five out to Steve.

He loved the confused look Steve got on his face as he asked, "What's that for?"

"So you can buy me a beer," Danny said, reaching out and stuffing the bill into the front pocket of Steve's polo shirt while tipping his bottle back and drinking down the last little bit.

He didn't have time to identify the myriad of looks that flipped into and out of existence on his partner's face, they happened so quickly. But in the end he got a fond smile and eyes that spoke volumes as their gazes locked.

"Okay," Steve said. "I can do that." He raised a hand and signaled for the bartender to bring them two more beers.

Danny looked down at the empty bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, picking at the label. His mind could not get rid of the image of Steve being out there, somewhere on the planet, going everything alone. How he acted on the job with Five-0 kind of made sense when you looked at how Steve did things in the Navy.

Danny took a breath, blew it out and finally said, "You think you'll be gone long?" And there it was…the real reason the two of them were out at a bar together on a Wednesday night.

Steve had been activated.

He was leaving tomorrow morning.

Steve looked sharply at him as the bartender brought them two more beers, then moved down to help two other customers. "You never know how these things will go,," he replied, picking up his bottle and scooting Danny's closer to him. "So there's no way of knowing whether it's long-term or short-term."

"I hope it's short." Danny gave a wry grin. "Like me."

"Not that short!" Steve countered, making Danny bark out a laugh. He considered his partner for a moment, knew what he was thinking. Could see it and read it in every line of Danny's body. "Hey, I stayed alive for over ten years out there, you know," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Even without my back-up."

Danny looked up at him, and wasn't sure what he was projecting, but it evidently got under Steve's skin, because Steve looked away and swallowed. "Well, before you go," Danny finally said, "I'll make sure you have a photo to put in your pocket. A photo of Grace, maybe. She makes anyone smile." He shrugged, trying to blow it off as being much less of a moment than it was. "You know, so you're not alone with just your dog tags."

Steve nodded, looked away from Danny and into the mirror behind the bar. Danny looked up, and in the reflection he finally saw what he supposed most people did when the two of them were together. They just looked…funny. They were completely opposite physically. Almost hilariously so, when Danny compared their hairstyles, their attire, their coloring, their height differences, and then he thought about their unbelievably different backgrounds and upbringings.

He grinned and it took a moment, but Steve grinned right back.

"Okay," Steve said into the mirror. "I'll take the photo you give me and I'll find a pocket for it."

"You'll be able to find it," Danny said with a wink. "It'll be right next to the five you'll buy me a beer with when you get back."

He smiled at Steve once more, and then looked away. Because it was the only thing Danny could do.

He would save the panic attack he could feel building until he was alone.

Steve would be back.

The panic attack didn't want to wait.

He would.

Danny took a deep breath and then a large gulp of beer.

He would.

Author's Note: Well, here, it's happened again. Way 74 has decided it's a companion piece to Way 73.

Way 74

Take himout on dates—pre-planning all of the details ahead of time.

Everything was perfect.

Danny had it all planned down to the last detail.

Steve would be arriving back at Five-0 headquarters via Navy escort in less than ten minutes.

He'd been gone for over two months.

His text message had assured Danny he was in one piece.

Danny wouldn't believe a word of it until he saw him.

He'd orchestrated the whole thing, right up to and including the fact that Grace was standing by his side.

After all, it'd been her photo Steve had taken with him.

Mary Ann was even there.

So was Governor Denning.

Toast.

Max.

Kamekona.

Everyone.

They would greet him.

They would welcome him home.

Governor Denning would officially transfer command of the task force from Danny back to Steve.

Then the ohana were going out to celebrate.

The room at the Waikiki Beach Resort was booked, set up, and decorated.

Grace herself had helped with the menu.

There would be excellent food. There would be alcohol. Juice and milk for Grace, of course. Shave ice for dessert because hey, Kamekona.

Toast promised not to smoke a joint in front of Danny's daughter, even.

Max promised he wouldn't talk about dead bodies in front of her, either.

They all stood with bated breath.

They heard a door open.

A figure appeared down the hall.

Danny felt his pulse pick up. Felt blood rushing through his ears.

They'd all know that shape anywhere.

Grace smiled. Then she all-out grinned.

Before Steve was even halfway down the hall, she was out the door and leaping into his arms for a hug.

It seemed fitting to Danny that she would be the first to welcome him.

They could hear her voice from the bullpen. They could hear Steve's voice, and the resulting laughter.

And then there he was.

Standing right in front of them, Grace held in one arm.

And then he was engulfed.

Chin and Kono.

Kamekona.

Even Toast and Max.

Finally, Mary Ann, with tears in her eyes as she hugged Grace's legs along with her brother's waist.

Then Grace got down.

Steve kept hold of her hand as he looked up to where Danny had waited. Possibly just to let everyone else say hello first. Possibly because he didn't have to fight panic attacks anymore. Possibly because yeah, Steve was in one piece. Possibly...Danny wasn't going to think about why.

Governor Denning approached Steve, told him the task force was once again his, nodded at Danny and the rest of the room in general, welcomed Steve back, and was gone.

"We've got plans, Boss," Kono said, jabbing at Steve's arm with a gentle fist.

"We do?" Steve asked with a blink.

"Danny insisted," Chin added.

Steve raised his eyebrows and looked over at Danny, who was still over ten feet away. "Oh, he did, did he?" His face morphed into that sloppy half-grin he often sported. "I think," he continued, slapping every pocket on his body as he melodramatically pretended to search for something, then finding it, reached in and pulled it out. "That I owe him a drink."

Danny looked at Steve's hand.

It held Grace's school photo.

And a five-dollar bill.

"Later," Danny said waving him off gruffly. "Right now, we've got a party to get to."

Everyone filed out of the bullpen but Steve, who held the door open as Danny approached. "Later, huh?" Steve said with a grin.

"Yep," Danny nodded brusquely. "I've got it all planned out for after the party, and after we drop Grace back at Rachel's."

"Ah," Steve nodded sagely, putting the photo and the five back into one of the pockets on his cargo pants. "You do, do you?"

"I do indeed," Danny replied.

Steve's arm came around Danny's shoulders as they headed for the exit.

Danny wanted to pinch himself.

It had been a long two months.

But Steve looked like he was in one piece, truly, though Danny didn't doubt there were more than a few bruises hiding under his clothes. Above all, he'd come back.

Danny leaned a little closer as they walked, as Steve's arm settled more heavily across his shoulders. It should've been weird, but it wasn't.

He was here. He'd come back.

Now maybe Danny could stop having those nightmares. The nightmares that had led him to phone Rachel at one in the morning three weeks after Steve's departure, to tell her he finally understood what she'd gone through worrying herself sick over someone she cared about.

Strangely, since then, the two had been civil, almost sympathetic, toward each other.

There was no dead body of a fallen soldier.

No flag-draped coffin.

No Taps.

Danny's imagination was vivid. It had run wild.

He snuffled a bit, allowing the last of the horrifying images to slip away.

Christ. Five-0 was nothing on a daily basis compared to what those dreams had been like. Besides, Danny was here to watch his partner's back. To him, that made all the difference in the world. Maybe it wasn't logical, but he held onto it.

Steve looked down at him and gave him a goofy thousand-watt grin to accompany the one-armed squeeze-hug he was also giving him. "It's good to be home, Danno." Then he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it in Danny's hand.

It was Steve's wallet.

"Yeah," Danny nodded, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat as they walked into the bright Hawaiian day. He stared at the wallet for a moment, blinking at the spots the unrelenting sun put in his eyes. Steve's wallet. He'd remembered it.

They stopped.

Danny looked up at his partner, who was grinning at Grace as she motioned them over to the Camaro with flailing arms that were way too much like Danny's sometimes got.

"Yeah," Steve replied.

Like that one word said everything.

Maybe it did.