Cujo III – Reloaded – This Time Its Personal
Chapter 30
Here's the next. The cat's finally out of the bag so-to-speak. Hope you like it.
As always, I sincerely appreciate you all taking the time to steer this story in the right direction. Imaginary Beta also appreciates your forbearance regarding anything she may have missed.
Disclaimer: Trip to Hawaii still on hold until I can figure out how to get paid for this and buy an airline ticket. Husband and ninja cats will have to work out their own way to get there. Also have to figure out how to grow several inches taller or lose enough weight to make myself appear more vertical than horizontal. I hear it makes one look so much better when wearing a bathing suit.
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Lies,Truths and Hot Sauce
Duke Lukela tiredly wiped a hand over his eyes as he waited for a report from the coffee shop. He'd sent Williams, Kilkenny, Brotman and two uniformed units to check out the suspicious activity. They were all experienced cops. He knew if any of them thought additional back-up was needed; none would hesitate to make the request.
Though he knew Williams had reluctantly joined Five-0 and despite the task force's sometimes too aggressive reputation; the detective was well-trained and cautious. Silently, he chuckled at remembrance of the last, thankfully only verbal, confrontation between Kilkenny and its members. Everyone knew Mickey would be minced meat if McGarrett ever got his hands on him. Fortunately for him there'd always been someone there to calm everyone down before it got to the point of no return. Still, it would have been fun to watch. He knew who he'd be rooting for.
He tremendously respected John McGarrett's son, but the guy could dial it down a little to smooth the rocky relationship between HPD and Five-0. Everything about the SEAL and his team gave one the sense of controlled danger - even that damned cat.
The radio crackled. It was Brotman's voice saying they'd arrived on scene and were about to approach the front door. Another scratchy transmission confirmed the two patrol units were now stationed in the alleyway behind the shop.
As he tensely waited for the next update, Lukela's thoughts drifted to the last time he'd seen Five O's evil little wolverine.
It had been at a welcome home party for the supposedly deceased Doris McGarrett - a woman he'd known in years past as part of the circle of her husband's HPD friends and cohorts. He'd liked her and had been horrified and saddened to hear that she'd been killed in an auto accident. To find out nearly two decades later she was still alive had been quite a shock. He couldn't even imagine how Steve and his sister had dealt with the news.
Only a couple months ago he'd attended a party given for her - a sort of 'Welcome Home' celebration. Quite a few people had attended. He'd watched the tall woman work the room; hugging or shaking hands where appropriate; occasionally bestowing a quick peck on a cheek or forehead. At the time he'd wondered if she even knew how badly her husband and children had been affected by her supposed death.
Lukela snapped back to the present at the next update from the scene which confirmed there was no one lurking at the coffee shop and that its employees were in process of being questioned at the scene. If he wasn't mistaken, there may have been a hint of amusement in what he recognized as Brotman's voice.
With a sigh, the old cop relaxed back into his chair for a moment before standing to go toward the break room to get a soda. It was almost time to go home. He certainly didn't need any more caffeine to disturb his night's sleep once he finally got there.
As he made his way down the hallway the veteran sergeant's thoughts returned to where they'd been a few minutes earlier – the party at the McGarrett house.
He'd been standing beer in one hand and plate of egg rolls, buffalo wings and some mysterious but delicious lumps wrapped in bacon in the other when Steve had come up to him.
"Glad you could make it Duke."
Duke smiled back in greeting to the guy he'd known since only a rambunctious, half-grown, long-haired, kid; so different looking from the tall, tattooed, quietly confident man who now stood beside him, (well, at least the half-grown, long-haired part). To be sure, the gods had outdone themselves to deposit the son of John and Doris McGarrett once again on the shores of his birthplace but it had worked out well enough thought Lukela. Certainly the citizens of the islands were safer for it.
"Happy to be here." said Lukela to the man who now stood beside him beer in hand.
"I know Doris remembers you very favorably." said Steve. At the time he'd thought it at least a little odd her son referred to his mother by her given name rather than something fonder and less formal. But maybe after leaving husband and children to think she was dead for umpteen years; it was a little awkward to just call her 'mom'.
With a broader smile he'd remarked to McGarrett, "Your mother was always really kind to your father's friends. She always treated us well." The younger man gave a small smile of acknowledgement.
Steve, perhaps a bit wistfully thought Lukela, watched Doris make her way through the crowd as the two of them stood there looking out at the gathering. There were many faces the SEAL must recognize from his boyhood. Some of them he probably remembered as having been in uniform the last time he'd seen them.
Seeming to rouse himself, he turned to Duke to say, "So, what's that bug Kilkenny's got up his butt about me?" he asked quirking his brows questioningly as he took a swig of his Longboard.
"Mickey's just an asshole." was the older man's succinct reply.
"Thanks for confirming my initial assessment." chuckled the head of Five-0.
"The only one who doesn't know he's an asshole is the man himself." stated Lukela with more feeling than McGarrett was probably expecting.
"Yeah, well, I came to the same conclusion. Kilkenny is a bit less talented than he thinks he is." said the younger man with a dismissive snort.
"Detective Michael A. Kilkenny is a bit less talented than Kim Kardashian." responded the sergeant as he looked for somewhere to set down the beer so he could begin munching on his plate of hors de oeuvres. "Seems to have the brass fooled though."
Duke Lukela was a man who'd been around for a very long time and who'd worked his way up through the ranks. He'd seen the brass come and go. Some of them were wise and competent and some less so. The current regime hadn't yet caught onto Kilkenny's oily methods of making himself look better at what he does than he actually is.
Since this was a party and wanting to think happier thoughts, he asked "Where's your puma? Last time I was here he managed to almost wreck the place when he jumped onto that pile of shrimp. Quite a show." he laughed referring to Chin Ho Kelly's birthday party that had been held here a couple months prior.
"Yeah, well, he learned his lesson I think." answered the tall man with a smile. "If you'll remember, it was a pile of Kamekona's special extra spicy Cajun shrimp and Cujo tore around the house foaming at the mouth until we could catch him."
"How could I forget? He looked like he was rabid." laughed the older man remembering the sauce covered cat who'd dashed frantically through the middle of the party while all of Five-0 and the braver or more foolish of the party-goers chased him through the house before McGarrett cornered him in the downstairs bath. The commander had snatched up the hissing spitting foaming creature and climbed into the shower fully clothed to hold the cat under its spray to rinse off the fiery sauce. Danny Williams' little girl was the one who'd thought to grab the jug of milk from the fridge to fill the sink with it so Steve could dunk the cat. It had been a very exciting if incredibly messy floor show. The party was a good memory.
Doris had seemed happy to be introduced to new friends and catch up with old ones. Most of the attendees had been hesitant to ask why a supposedly dead woman was standing before them hale and healthy.
Lukela hadn't been aware that she and Steve had already gone over the answers should anyone ask; a combination of truth and lies. Only the most dogged would even pursue it. If they did, Steve was the one to handle any questions but, strangely, no one challenged the story.
As the party had wound down in the early morning hours; people had straggled away, saying their goodnights and whispering to each other of the woman who looked remarkably good for a corpse.
Not finding an acceptable flavor of soda in the vending machine he sighed and went to fill his cup with coffee from the pot that always sat warming in the break room and added his usual three packets of sugar.
Duke went back to his desk to start packing up for the evening. Somehow he knew even the extra jolt of sugar and caffeine wouldn't keep him from falling asleep as soon as he made it home. He blinked tired eyes and ran his hands through his sparse hair as he continued to wait for news from the teams he'd sent out. He needed to hear them say the scene was secure before he felt he could leave for the evening
The radio crackled one more time but the news wasn't what he was expecting. Three of his men were on their way to the hospital – two of them for treatment of injuries.
….
The trip to the ER had Danny explaining to the doctor treating Kilkenny that Cujo did not indeed have rabies as his battered and blood dripping patient had asserted. He'd further explained the cat was only protecting someone from an attack with a deadly weapon, (no charges to be filed), and no, he wasn't going to have his head shaved to put in a couple of stitches dammit!
Phil had reminded his partner that filing charges would only make him the object of derision among his brothers-in-arms at the cop house and that half his team was already suffering the slings and arrows of coworkers from that first go-round with the damned cat. Furthermore, if the story got out, this last incident was certain to cement the reputation of McGarrett's mini-mountain lion/weapon of mass destruction and only serve to embellish the 'myth'.
Needless to say, Cujo had kicked ass. Steve would be proud.
By the time the human combatants had been tended to and things had been squared away to nearly everyone's satisfaction, (the exception of course being one Detective Kilkenny), it was almost one A.M.
Earlier in the evening, the first time Danny had called the McGarrett house to say he was on his way, Angela had answered and he'd gotten an annoyed earful on what she described as the totally lame, asinine and juvenile game in which her brothers were engaged.
The bristly woman threatened to put a stop to the whole thing if they didn't 'knock it off or else'. She didn't elaborate on what the 'or else' may be but Danny knew from experience neither he nor Steve would like it.
His intention had been to continue the prank for at least a couple more days but when Angela had described how Steve had taken the news of Danny's alleged 'thing' for him, he thought maybe it was time to put the guy out of his misery. Perhaps his dufus partner had now learned his lesson.
As Danny once again made the right turn onto Pi'ikoi Street he turned to smile at the little cat who was now looking positively perky. Apparently, opportunity to satisfy bloodlust had done the trick and the wolverine was almost back to normal. Cujo was once again riding on his usual perch on the dash.
The Camaro pulled into McGarrett's driveway to park behind the behemoth of a truck. Cujo immediately recognized he was home and began to chirp excitedly. Danny intended to pick him up and carry him inside but the cat managed to wriggle out of his grasp and in a flash had scampered up the walkway to meow loudly and paw frantically at the door.
Danny trailed behind the animal up to the front porch and actually rang the doorbell, (though he knew Cath wasn't in town at the moment). The last time he'd walked in without knocking had probably scarred him for life. Though Cath had laughed it off with a bright blush and Steve had only looked at him murderously for a while before the expression morphed into more of a smirk, he had no desire to repeat that mistake.
As he waited for Steve to come to the door, he laughed to himself that Mickey would certainly bear the marks of Cujo's teeth and claws for several weeks at least. Well, at least the blood isn't mine this time! he mused.
The memory of Mickey's howl as he'd been stuck with a hypodermic the size of a turkey baster made Danny chuckle aloud as he gingerly touched the bandage on his own temple. He'd been certain the annoyed nurse had procured a needle larger than necessary with which to administer Kilkenny's tetanus booster. She'd probably been as tired of Mickey's whining as everyone else. How can Brotman even stand the guy? Cujo's vet techs weren't the only ones who deserved a box of chocolates or maybe a fifth of Scotch and a pair of earplugs.
Danny's own bandage covered only three stitches; the large Band-Aid was nowhere near the size of the gigantic ones both Steve and Five-0's rodent control officer sported after their injuries. The doctor who'd sewn him up had actually wanted to shave a strip of scalp to do so but Danny had prevailed – well, actually, he'd gone ballistic – and his hair had remained untouched by blade or clippers. Steve and his furry alter ego weren't the only ones who could be effective with a glare and a growl.
Before leaving Queens he'd called his convalescing partner to tell him his not-my-pet would be arriving as soon as everyone's owies had been addressed. The cat was currently calming down in the car and should be safe to handle by the time he and Kilkenny were released.
Danny knew that Angie had a nice room at the Hilton as part of her prize package and had left the McGarrett house a little before ten P.M. Steve would be alone until they got there. Hopefully, they'd arrive before, out of boredom, the Neanderthal decided to do something stupid.
At the end of their conversation, though asserting he was perfectly fine to go up and down the stairs by himself like a 'big boy', Steve had agreed to wait downstairs and nap on the couch until Danny arrived with the furry piranha.
…
Wakened from a light sleep by the purr of an engine, Steve blinked open bleary eyes and looked at his watch. It was almost two A.M. He heard the doorbell and struggled up from where he'd parked himself on the sofa hours ago as he waited for Danny. Thankfully, there'd been a World War II movie marathon on television so between short naps; he'd at least been somewhat entertained.
Pulling his crutches out from where he'd stowed them under the sofa, he pulled himself upright and crutched the six feet to the door to pull it open.
"Hey buddy!" laughed Steve as the door swung open and along with the soft incursion of cool night air came an anxious animal who greeted him with a barrage of purrs and cat babble. Launching himself at his human, Cujo landed on the tall man's chest to cling there for all he was worth.
Steve dropped one crutch to hold the noisy bundle of affection to him and keep the razor-sharp little claws from digging into tender flesh as he fought to maintain his balance. He yelped as Cujo clawed upward to begin a sandpapery assault on his neck; the rumble of feline happiness filling the air.
"Good to see you too buddy." he laughed in delight at the overjoyed feline.
"You do know I'm standing here on your porch, right?" smirked Danny as he watched the joyous reunion while trying not to smile at the obvious delight of both man and cat.
"Oh, yeah. Come in." said Steve. He really had almost forgotten Danny was standing there waiting to come in.
"So." said the detective taking in his partner's appearance. Steve looked relatively okay as he balanced on one leg and accepted his not-my-pet's effusive greeting. Danny was relieved to see his partner looked no worse the wear from earlier in the day despite his propensity at finding trouble or it finding him.
"So." said Steve as he took in the blonde's newly battered appearance; a large darkening bruise and a bandage visible on his temple. "Looks like you had a fun time at the office?"
"If by 'the office' you mean another damned coffee shop where the murderer isn't, but that asshole Kilkenny is, then yeah, I had a great time." snorted Danny in disgust.
"Sorry it worked out that way. You have to tell me what went down. I hope Mickey looks at least as bad as you do. We . . . uhh . . . we have to talk anyway . . . about other things." announced the SEAL backing away from the door to give Danny room to enter and not trip over the one remaining crutch while doing so. The detective noticed Steve wasn't quite looking him in the eye.
"Yeah, we most definitely have to talk." he replied, "Let me go get a beer first before we begin. I'll get you some water. Still no alcohol for you until you're off the meds or Doc Trilling will be pissed." He added, trying not to smirk at his friend's obvious unease as the blonde stepped into the entryway and closed the door behind him.
Steve, mumbling something under his breath, turned to hobble toward the kitchen with Cujo still held to his chest.
"What?" asked Danny trying to make out what was said.
"I said you damned well know what we have to talk about." repeated Steve more loudly this time.
"No. I don't. Clue me in oh Big Kahuna." replied Danny as he followed his partner across the living room toward the back of the house.
"Come on man, don't make this anymore awkward than it has to be." called Steve over his shoulder not daring to turn and cause a loss of balance as he made his way to the kitchen.
"Don't know what you mean Steven." smirked Danny trying, (not terribly successfully), to sound sincere.
McGarrett, having reached the kitchen table and with a slight hitch in breath, sat heavily in a chair and leaned the remaining crutch in the corner as he set Cujo down onto the floor. The cat immediately ran to his food bowl on the plastic placemat near the back door. Steve had filled the stoneware container labeled 'Attack Cat' a couple of hours ago with the Cujo's usual kibble.
A lingering aroma of Italian wedding soup filled the room; the scent of onions and garlic giving it a comfortable and soothing ambiance as they entered. The detective pulled a chair out for himself then walked to the fridge to grab a beer and a bottle of water before he sat across from his apprehensive looking partner.
Steve, without preamble and looking directly at him began, "Danny . . . umm, you know I think of you as a brother."
"Yeah, I know that." answered the blonde as he took the first cool satisfying sip of his Longboard; humming in pleasure as the cold liquid bubbled its way down his throat. This beer was hours overdue.
"And . . . umm, you know I love you like a brother but . . . umm . . . if you're thinking of our friendship in any other way, well, I'm sorry." said Steve earnestly; obviously having struggled to find the right words.
"Sorry about what?" asked Danny completely ignoring the uncomfortable expression and body language displayed by his partner.
As he'd spoken, Steve had been nervously moving about as though something was crawling through his clothes. Realizing he was squirming like a schoolboy in the principal's office, he suddenly stilled, took a deep breath and then took another stab at the subject at hand: "D, umm, Angie told me what you told her about . . . umm . . . you know."
"Look Steven, spit it out. I have no idea what you're talking about." said Danny raising his brows expectantly. As Steve's face registered every hesitant and uncertain expression in his non-verbal repertoire, the blonde was thinking, This'll teach the Neanderthal to mess with me.
Finally, having had enough of Danny's coy evasiveness and his own nervous trepidation, Steve blurted out. "Look. I know you're jealous and you have a thing for me."
Hooted Danny in response, "A thing? You think I have a thing for you?" (This was just too good!) "And just who the hell am I supposed to be jealous of anyway?"
"Well . . . Dave." retorted Steve now actually looking almost offended by his partner's reaction.
"Oh, you mean the guy you have a thing for?" smiled Danny
"Yes, uhh no . . . I mean NO!" shouted McGarrett
Danny had never seen Steve so flustered. The SEAL's usual calm and cool demeanor was now a thing of the past. The man who'd faced countless life threatening situations without batting an eye was a wreck.
This is friggin' hilarious! thought the detective. He wished he'd had the foresight to set up some kind of camera to record this.
Briefly closing his eyes and calming himself; his head once again pounding in time to the ache in his thigh, Steve took a deep breath.
"Danny, I don't have a 'thing' as you call it for Dave Matsui. I never did and I never will. I'm uhh . . . not that kind of guy but, if you have those kinds of uhh . . . feelings for me then I'm sorry. They won't be and can't be reciprocated."
"So you're saying you've been leading Dave on? That's not right Steven."
"Wait! What?!"
Steve felt as though Danny had shanghaied the conversation and was turning it all around – which he had. This was not going well.
Danny; about to explode into laughter at Steve's now way too obvious discombobulation thought maybe it was time to let the poor guy off the hook.
"Steve, babe, I assume you think I'm thinking of you in a romantic sort of way?"
"Well, yeah. Angie said . . . "
"My sister says a lot of stuff." dismissed the blonde with a chuckle and a wave of his hand.
Steve wrinkling his brow at Danny's reaction plunged on; "Angie said that you . . . uhh . . . had a umm . . . relationship with someone who wasn't necessarily female and that that's what made Rachel want a divorce."
Danny's eyebrows actually rose at that information. Angie was a far better story teller than he'd thought. He'd only requested she reinforce the idea that he had a thing for Steve; not invent an entire backstory. He should have known though. She did get out of being grounded for life by creatively bending the truth to explain how she'd been discovered with a fifth of Jack Daniels, a big fat doobie and a skinny girlfriend behind the gym during a homecoming dance. He should have known she had it in her.
Steve had never had a chance.
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Hope the 'thing' didn't disappoint. Reviews would be most welcome. Next chapter in about a week.