50 FIRST DATES
Based on the characters and stories of Hawaii Five-0.
Hawaii Five-0 is owned by CBS and their respective creators.
A serial anthology of all the possible first meetings of Steve McGarrett and Catherine Rollins
Honolulu, Hawaii - 1999
"Fuck." Steve pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in a futile attempt to ward away the migraine brewing between his eyes. It had only been six hours since he disembarked the U.S.S. Enterprise for shore leave while they were docked at Pearl Harbor, and it was six hours too long.
It wasn't that he had been avoiding visiting his father, it's just that he was actively doing anything and everything to get out of seeing him. Of course, his efforts were useless since Joe White had called up John McGarrett and told him that Steve would be back on the island.
And would have liberties to leave the aircraft carrier.
Five hours in his childhood home and he was ready to crawl out of his skin. The ocean breeze and priceless view from the lanai should have made him as cool as a cucumber. Instead, he was about to claw his eyes out.
The house was untouched. Unchanged since the day his mother died. It was like walking into a mausoleum. Everything was the same except for Steve.
He was older. Bigger. Wiser. Stronger.
He wasn't a scared fifteen year old kid anymore. He was a Navy SEAL.
BUD/s and SQT had kicked his ass. Everyone talks about how hard Hell Week is, but for him, the hardest part was making it through Hell Week, and then having to keep going.
But he did it. He got his trident alongside his brothers, Freddie and Billy. Freddie Hart and Billy Harrington were off in Kodiak, Alaska undergoing cold weather training while Steve had orders on the Enterprise for continued training with Naval Intelligence. Navy SEALs weren't just special operators performing superhuman feats of strength. They were trained in languages, explosive ordnance disposal, and military communications.
Steve would have much preferred to be freezing his ass off in the snow, but there was one upside to living on a floating city.
Her.
Lieutenant Catherine Rollins.
The lieutenant part of that was new. She had recently been promoted from LJG, and was more than happy to rub her equal rank in Steve's face. The two of them had been best friends since the Naval Academy—thick as thieves.
Billy Harrington had been trying to get Steve to give him Catherine's number after the three of them hung out at a bar in Coronado, but for some reason Steve couldn't bring himself to give it up. He told Billy that Catherine would just have to give it up herself.
It's not like Steve had any sort of claim on Catherine. They were just friends. And not just friends in the just-friends-because-of-the-military way. That's all they had ever been.
Just. Friends.
Catherine dated around all the time, and so did Steve—whenever he wasn't doing classified training exercises. Usually the two of them would end up swapping war stories about bad dates when they ran into each other. The military was a small community like that. He hadn't seen her in quite some time. BUD/s and SQT had him alternating between Coronado and Virginia Beach, while she was cruising all over the world on the Enterprise.
His new orders on board the Enterprise had given them a chance to catch up, so to speak. Of course, that also meant he answered to her.
In between Catherine breathing down his neck when he didn't complete assignments the right way, they had a damn good time. Catherine had a soft spot for him and he knew it. She'd chew him out during work hours, stare him down, and then roll her eyes when he flashed that stupid lopsided grin that got him out of most kinds of trouble.
Steve pulled his Nokia out of the pocket of his cargo pants. He punched in Catherine's number and pressed the brick to his ear as he wandered down the yard toward the beach.
"Lieutenant Rollins." Catherine's sing-song voice poked at the idea in his mind that she may have already started indulging in umbrella drinks. He didn't blame her.
"'Ay—" he mumbled. "It's me. What are you up to?"
"Aww!" Catherine cooed. "You're calling me already? I'm touched, McGarrett." She giggled and hiccupped. "Face it—you can't live without me."
Steve chuckled. He could barely get a word in edgewise. Drunk Catherine was chatty Catherine, and judging by the background noise, she was two—almost three—sheets to the wind.
"Who's driving you, Cath?"
Catherine spoke to someone in the background and then came back on the line. "Well," she giggled. "It was supposed to be Amy, but she's gone off and…" There was a pause and Catherine laughed. "Let's just say she's otherwise occupied."
Steve smirked. If he had to guess, Amy was getting it on with his buddy, Matt. He'd have to remember to give Matt hell about it later. "Charlie-Mike. I'll pick you up." He turned on his heels, pulling the keys to his dad's Marquis out of his pocket. "Where are you at?"
Catherine rattled off the name of a bar near Waikiki. It was getting late, and he'd need something to eat. Maybe he'd grab something while he was out. Heading out wasn't a bad idea. Looking back at the house, he knew sticking around for dinner was the last thing he wanted to do.
Steve's bag was still in the back of the Marquis. He hadn't even unpacked. Luckily, his dad had gotten called out to a case with the HPD, and left him with the car.
It had been a few years since Steve spent anything remotely close to quality time with his dad. Getting sent away after an unimaginable family tragedy has a funny way of burning father-son bridges to a crisp.
Steve shook his head at the irony of it all as he hopped in the Marquis and pulled away from the house. A few minutes later, he parked outside of a tiki lounge in Waikiki. He saw Amy's blonde ponytail whip around the side of the building. She was in a shadow, but Steve could very clearly see that Matt was kissing her so hard he was practically examining her tonsils.
Steve just shook his head and wandered inside.
Catherine, downing a drink that was a questionable shade of blue, slammed her empty glass on the bar, threw her hands in the air and spun around. The laces on her Chuck Taylors were loose. One wrong step and she'd—
Catherine's left foot caught the shoestring, and she went airborne.
"I think maybe I'm the one you can't live without," Steve grinned as he wrapped those thick arms of his around Catherine, catching her an inch away from her head slamming into a table.
Catherine looped her arms around his neck and tossed her head back, laughing. "Hey, Sailor." Her hair hung in dark waves down her back.
Steve had seen Catherine in civvies before, but she never ceased to take his breath away. His best friend was a damn knockout.
He helped Catherine to her feet and adjusted his cargo pants. "You ready to head out?"
"Head out?" Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Hell no! But now that you're here—" She emphasized her point by poking him in the chest. "—we can get you laid!" She poked at the hard line his lips were pressed in. "Turn that frown upside down, Grumpy McGrump Face."
Steve raised his eyebrows in amusement and pursed his lips together to try and keep from laughing. He steeled his expression and raised an eyebrow. "You are going to get me laid?"
"Yep!" She said, popping the "P". "Can't let all those muscles go to waste now can we?" She squeezed his bulging biceps. "And it'll put you in a good mood! Win-win!"
"Who says I'm not in a good mood?" He growled.
Catherine snickered. "Everyone."
"Everyone?"
She nodded. "Yep. You're this big, bad Navy SEAL on board, and you're scaring the bejeezus out of the new ensigns and seamen." She snorted at her own childish joke. "Seamen."
Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Really, Cath? What are you—five?"
She swayed left and right when the alcohol made everything swirl around her. "You need to blow off some steam, McGarrett."
Steve looped his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the bar. "You need to sober up." He flagged down the bartender and pointed to Catherine. "How much?"
The bartender looked up her tab, and Steve pulled a few bills out of his wallet to cover her drinks.
"I think pigs just flew," Catherine gasped.
Steve's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"You actually paid for something."
Steve chuckled. "I do that on occasion."
"You're cheap and you paid for me."
"And you need carbs and grease," he clipped as he slid his arm around her waist, guiding her out of the bar. "Loco Moco's on you. "
Catherine slid into the passenger's seat of the Marquis. Steve swallowed thickly at the sight of her long legs stretched out, her denim shorts riding up her thighs. He pushed a neanderthal thought away and hopped behind the wheel.
"What's loco moco?" She asked
Steve draped his hand over the top of the steering while and stretched his right arm across the back of their seats. She leaned her head back into his outstretched arm and closed her eyes.
"It's, uh… It's rice, hamburger, gravy, and a fried egg."
Catherine wrinkled her nose. "That sounds disgusting."
"Trust me," he chuckled, "It's good. Best hangover food you'll find."
A few minutes later, Steve pulled into the Rainbow Drive-in, and before they knew it, they were digging into styrofoam containers filled to the brim.
"Mmmmm," Catherine moaned, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "God, this is heaven."
Steve glared at her, though she couldn't see it. Catherine was too busy making him think about things that were not becoming of an officer.
"You should really let me set you up sometime," she said as she shoveled in another forkful. "I know tons of girls who'd kill to go out with a guy like you."
Steve picked at his loco moco. "What, uh…. What do you mean a guy like me?
She shrugged, "It's really annoying when you're humble. You know damn well what I mean. You're a Navy SEAL—"
"I ain't interested in froghogs, Cath. Not even for a hook-up."
"Not what I meant." She pointed her fork at him. "You're a nice guy. Good sense of humor. You have a serious job, but you're not one of those guys who takes himself too seriously." She paused and sucked down some soda from her cup. "And you're hot."
Steve choked. Sputtering, he grabbed his drink from the dashboard and took a long sip. "Excuse me?"
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Don't be bashful about it. Girls hate that. You're not blind, and I know you look in a mirror at least once a year."
He gave her a wry look, and she just laughed. Steve couldn't help but smile. Catherine was being ridiculous, so he just shook his head. "I think you're still buzzed."
Catherine snorted. "You just wait, McGarrett. One day the right girl is gonna knock you on your ass, and you won't know what hit you."
Steve leaned in close. "I'm pretty good at hand-to-hand combat. I can land on my feet. I think I'll be okay." He laughed as Catherine playfully swatted him away.
Sobered up and stomachs full, Steve drove Catherine back to the motel she was staying in for the night. He was half-tempted to rent a room of his own. Anything would be better than going back to his dad's place.
"You okay, Sailor?" Catherine asked as she shoved the key into the loose doorknob. It jiggled too much for Steve's liking. All it would take is a strong breeze to blow the door down. He especially didn't like that she was staying here alone.
He peered into her room. "Fine."
"Uh huh," she deadpanned. "That's why that vein on your forehead is popping out the way it always does when you're about to lose your shit."
His eyebrows dipped into a deep groove over his nose. "I'm not about to lose my shit."
She cocked an eyebrow.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. The beginnings of a tattoo peeked out of the bottom of his sleeve. When he got back to Virginia Beach, he'd have the artist finish the rest of the piece, and maybe start a new one.
"It's not safe," he clipped.
Catherine rolled her eyes. "It's plenty safe."
Steve wiggled the doorknob to prove his point.
"There's a dead bolt," she countered.
He reached around to the inside of the door and spun the dead bolt lock all the way around. "Yeah. That's gonna do you a lot of good."
Catherine ignored him and waltzed right into the room. "Yeah, well, I'm sure you'd be just fine sleeping on the beach or in the woods, but the point of R & R is to enjoy certain creature comforts. One, being a bed."
"Catherine—" His tone had a sharp edge to it, and he dared her to cross him.
She put her hands on her hips. "What's your grand plan, then?"
He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go to the office and see if the room next door is free. I'll sleep here tonight. That way if anything happens, I'll be right next door."
Catherine pointed to the blinking No Vacancy sign that had seen better days. "Try again."
He blew out a breath and scrubbed his palms down his face. "Fine. Then I'm staying in here with you."
Catherine laughed. "Uh, there's only one bed. Try again, Sailor."
He stomped into her room, slamming the door behind him. "You should've booked a different room."
"I didn't plan on having a bunkmate," she snapped back.
They stood toe-to-toe in the middle of Catherine's motel room, staring each other down, waiting to see who would flinch and concede.
"Rock, paper, scissors for the bed," Steve challenged.
Catherine's eyes narrowed. "I paid for the room! Ergo, it's my bed!"
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "We can share the bed. You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine." He turned to drop his bag on the left side of the bed.
Catherine whipped around. "Oh, don't say that like you're doing me a favor."
"I'm keeping you from getting chopped into pieces by the axe murderer next door," Steve shouted.
Just then, the door to the next room over opened, and an elderly woman hobbled out, clutching her walker.
"Yeah." Catherine rolled her eyes. "I would definitely have lost to the grandmother of the Golden Girls."
They spent the next little while dancing around each other, taking turns showering and awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed. When the sun had dipped low, and moths were flitting around the exposed exterior light bulbs, Catherine pulled the covers back and stood at the foot of the bed.
"What, um…" She crossed her arms over the baggy t-shirt she had changed into. "What side do you sleep on?"
Steve smirked. "I've been in a twin bed since BUD/s. I kinda take up the whole thing."
She tried to avert her gaze as he stripped off his t-shirt. She had seen him shirtless before, but this was different.
Catherine had ragged him for being blind and not knowing how good looking he was, but the truth was, she knew how good looking Steve McGarrett was. She saw the way other women—in and out of the military—looked at him. And, on occasion, she allowed herself the simple luxury of closing her eyes and imagining him in all of his muscular glory.
She liked the tattoos.
Steve stepped out of his cargo pants and folded them up, setting them on top of his bag.
Catherine's eyes widened. "Wow. You're just going for it, huh?"
Steve looked down at his boxers and then grinned sheepishly. "Hey, these cover more than the tan shorts we had to wear for fucking training exercises in BUD/s."
She bit her lip. Now she had a new fantasy that definitely involved tan shorts.
Steve laid down on the left side and balled up the pillow under his head. He patted the empty space beside him. "C'mon, Cath. I won't bite."
Maybe I'd like it if he bites. Her toes curled at the notion, but she swatted it away like a pesky mosquito. Finally, she mustered a little courage, unglued her feet from the floor and crawled into bed.
Catherine laid straight as an arrow on her side of the bed. The sputtering hum of the window air conditioning unit kept her awake. As did the Navy SEAL on the other side of her bed.
Steve was asleep in minutes. Then again, he had learned the value of being able to fall asleep whenever, wherever.
She closed her eyes for the hundredth time and tried to will sleep to come to her, but it evaded her. Catherine was about to say screw it and walk across the street to the all-night diner, when a thick arm draped across her waist. She sucked in a sharp breath as Steve dragged her to him, closing the empty space in the mattress. His gentle snores were muffled as he buried his nose in the back of her hair.
Catherine could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart against her back. Steve's hand splayed across her stomach and butterflies erupted.
Safe.
So, this is what safe felt like. On that epiphany, she wiggled back into him, tucked her head under his chin, and drifted off to sleep.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
HELLO, LOVELY SUGAR COOKIES! It's been a minute and I've missed you! I'm just popping in between books, sprinkling your day with a little H50 McRoll magic! I hope you're doing splendidly!
Spread kindness, loves! Until next time!
XO,
-Mags-
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