I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
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It took some creative thinking and he managed to aggravate the sluggishly bleeding wound in the process, but Steve got the shower turned off and Danny wrapped in towels while still inside the bathroom. He only toweled himself off quickly before leaving Danny unattended to run upstairs for more towels, two changes of clothing, as well as for the medical kit which he'd kept in the master bath. Steve didn't worry too much about Danny wandering off by that point. He hadn't so much as twitched since collapsing thirty minutes earlier. But by touch alone, the fever seemed to have gone down despite the worrisome fact that Danny remained fairly unresponsive and as limp as a rag.
With an aggrieved sigh for himself, for Danny and their overall predicament, Steve bounced down to his knees when he returned to his friend's side. He toweled Danny off, then exchanged the first set of towels for new, creating a dryer bed of sorts before he removed the ruined sweat pants. He'd decided to keep Danny precisely where he was; though it might have seemed odd, Steve didn't see the point in lugging his unconscious partner back to the kitchen or even to the sofa. If he needed to cool him down again or, worse yet, manage any fevered temperamental issues, the bathroom was his safest bet on both counts.
Working quickly and efficiently, with an eye towards Danny should he rouse, Steve swapped the pants out for an over-sized pair of his own. Then, his next job was entirely focused on properly dressing Danny's hand, the volume of blood looking much worse now that water had soaked through the kitchen towel. Still uncertain as to why Danny might have done such a thing, Steve shook his head in abject confusion. Maybe Danny would tell him later, then again maybe he wouldn't even remember a single thing about what had gone down that night. It was a frustrating realization. Even frightening. Unable to prevent another worried sigh from passing his lips, Steve consoled himself that at least the wound wasn't too deep. He packed it well anyway, using gauze and then reams of white bandages.
Steve didn't want to accidentally overheat him, but he did drape Danny's upper body with one of his lighter-weight bath towels. Only then did he decide that he had the luxury of some time to cater to himself. He changed his clothes in the hallway, just outside the bathroom where he could continue to keep an eye on things. Peeling off wet jeans for something dry was a chore unto itself and with his adrenalin gone, Steve found himself tiring. He eased out of the t-shirt last, wincing at the sticky pull where the material clung to his skin. But then, the attention he was able to pay to his own wound became a source of calm as he bandaged the cut with gauze and a dressing which he taped into place. He felt better when he was done; in the bare minimum, he was in a better frame of mind.
"Hey? Danny, you awake?" Steve whispered, his head flying up when he heard a soft moan. He crouched down again, checking Danny's pulse and respiration, oddly pleased and yet unhappy when Danny seemed to simply fall into a deeper sleep.
"That's a good idea," he said quietly. He'd been used up and tossed to the curb by that point. Falling back with a dull thump, Steve leaned up against the wall and stretched his legs out to block the doorway. His eyes were closed before he even rocked his head comfortably into the corner. Less than a minute later, he too, was sleeping.
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Danny opened his eyes to a darkened room and a plain looking ceiling. He didn't know what had happened or recognize where he was. Except for the storm outside, he heard nothing else. He shifted carefully before rolling onto his side, an unsettling feeling growing as he looked at what seemed to be the underside of pipes for a sink. He had a vague memory of a strong man and then remembered shattered snippets of a fight.
A tiled room. Water. Another struggle. A feeling of being trapped ... threatened. Maybe even almost drowning.
Odd fragments tumbled through his mind and he almost chose to shove them to the side until he felt the deep throb of his hand. He sat up then, realizing that he still didn't feel well, yet enthralled at the sight of the thick white bandage. The wrap was neat and professional, with only a few spots of blood having absorbed through. He didn't remember. He wasn't sure what had happened. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it when the blurry shape just beyond the outline of his hand caught his eye.
He moved then, crawling forward the few feet on his knees to be sure. He allowed himself a quick grin; a sense of relief flooding through him down to his very toes.
"Steve?" Danny called softly. His voice cracked, broke and he swallowed hard at how parched he seemed to be. "Steven? Steve?" He stared hard at the bowed head and closed eyes. He saw a face that seemed pale and far too lax; suddenly afraid that Steve was unconscious or injured. Danny spied the outline of the taped bandage on his friend's side and shook his head, wondering and worried about what indeed had happened. Had they both been attacked then? Had Steve found him and taken care of whomever once had them ... or not? Regardless, how could they still be in this strange place which was both safe and yet ... felt so wrong?
Danny shivered from the cold and felt the sting of surprise when a loud crash of thunder echoed overhead. He remembered the true violence of the terrible storm then. Maybe they were biding their time for the storm to pass and for help to come? He didn't know for sure though as he searched Steve's face.
"Steve?" Danny tried again when Steve mumbled thickly under his breath. The ex-SEAL's waking was a slow process despite how on edge he'd been earlier. It wasn't like him to be so relaxed and Danny worried even more, thoughts of drugs now racing through his mind.
"Steve?" He pushed again, this time wrapping his fingers around Steve's right forearm. Something had certainly happened and Danny felt himself shivering uncontrollably as his body resented the short spurt of activity. He was cold, feeing sickish and now his hand hurt incessantly. Nonetheless for all these clues, not much spurred his memory to function more coherently.
Steve frowned before waking fully, unaccustomed to the hand on his arm or the call of his name. He had conveniently tuned out the storm for the white noise that it had become. His doze had become a deeper sleep and he was comfortable, quiet. However, as fingers tightened on his arm, he remembered in an instant. A sharp inhale echoed in the bathroom the second Steve jolted awake, stunned to find his partner balanced on his knees right in front of him.
"Danny!" Steve exclaimed. He was instantly alert and mentally evaluating what he saw of his partner's face, their mutual concern obvious. "What are you doing? What's wrong?"
"What's ... wrong?" Danny asked hesitantly. He blinked wildly, his mouth opening once more in soundless askance until he found his voice to stammer his bewilderment. He sagged backwards on his heels, shivering, his teeth almost clattering in his head as he motioned around their prison. "Seriously? Are you okay ... you're hurt. Your side. The bandage."
"It's all right, Danny," Steve soothed as he sat up taller and forced Danny into a more natural seated position. He automatically used the back of his hand to check for fever, a bit displeased about his findings. "How do you feel?" The question was loaded, but Steve had to ask. He needed to know the level of Danny's lucidity.
"How do I feel? Where's the guy" Danny demanded with a question for a question. He looked warily towards the doorway, the area beyond dark and forbidding. He stared there long enough, searching, to miss Steve's pang of concern. "How many are here?"
"How many are here?" Steve parroted back stupidly before he whispered under his breath, just to himself, a fond shake of his head aimed towards his friend. "Ah, Danno. Still buddy, huh?" At least they were on a middle ground now though. One that was better in some regards, then possibly as bad in others. Danny's eyes weren't tracking either, but Steve took some relief because at least their conversation was intelligible.
Most importantly, Danny knew him this time.
Pros and cons; good and bad. There was some improvement, though the line was thin and tenuous. Steve smiled gently when Danny shakily pointed towards his chest, no doubt to the stark whiteness of the bandage which stood out in the dim light. The storm made the air thick and the humidity was high. Where he was feeling the closeness of the heavy tropical air, Danny still shivered from fever and Steve reached down to pick up the towel in order to drape it over Danny's shoulders.
"You're still sick, Danny," Steve explained. "You've got a high fever and you need to take some meds. Can you do that for me?"
"What?" Danny replied. He shook his head, determined and obstinate as he dared to touch the edge of the bandage on Steve's side. "Stop changing the subject."
"I'm fine," he promised, biting back a smile when Danny's face changed to one of disgust. "It's nothing, Danny." He'd forgotten to put on another shirt. He should have remembered to avoid the rabid focus. But how could he have guessed this? Steve chastised himself immediately for the thought as his partner objected.
"Of course you are," Danny said in annoyance. The worry and snark was a natural side-effect of a more regular personality quirk and Steve found that he couldn't fight the ridiculous smile. Ruing that loss at the sound of Danny's coughed out disbelief.
"Are you smiling? Why are smiling?" Danny groused as Steve helped him to his feet. "You're an animal. You're hurt ... and you smile. I don't understand. I don't get it, Steven."
"I know," Steve chuffed softly as he tucked Danny into his opposite side, making sure that at least the towel stayed around his shoulders. "But it's okay. I promise."
The fever had gone down as he'd hoped. Still, Danny remained out of sorts, shivering and on the cusp of trouble. The night was almost over though as they approached the early morning hours. With continued luck, the storm would abate and he'd have clear sailing to the hospital. Until then, they'd continue on as they'd been.
"Where are we going?" Danny asked as they left the bathroom together. Steve took more comfort in the lack of argument. Danny was all over the map with questions, worry and a confused wariness. But he was pliable and willing to follow his lead.
"I've got medicine for you," Steve replied. He kept it simple, calm and very specific. Hugging Danny closer to him when he heard the mumbled words of confusion about how benevolent their attackers really were, he almost laughed out loud.
"That doesn't make sense, Steven," Danny whispered as they traipsed down the hallway. Completely perturbed, his tone wracked with exasperation. "Bandages? Water? Meds? What kind of bad guys are these?"
It was a lost cause and Steve had to laugh at that and Danny nearly pulled them to an indignant halt, vainly shushing his outburst in case they might hear. The same ridiculous smile broadened as he dropped an even stupider kiss on top of the mussed, damp blonde head. "We got lucky this time, Danno. They're the very best kind of bad guy."
~ to be continued ~