A/N: language
"Bowl. Ladle. Tray." The tiny Tahitian woman pointed out each of the three items as though Steve were a young child. "Scoop, pour, pass. That's all there is to it."
"Yes ma'am," Steve said politely. Denning had assigned him to a soup kitchen for the day, and Danny dropped him off before heading into work. Steve had spent the morning chopping vegetables and the afternoon cleaning dishes. Now he was crowded into the tiny kitchen as the minute grandmother- Ms. Temura- demonstrated the basics of serving poi, a traditional Hawaiian food made from taro root.
"I've been warned about you," she added, shaking a spoon at him. "Don't cause me any trouble, or I'll have that nice, blond detective come back and arrest you!"
Steve blinked. "You mean Danny?" He jerked his hand back, surprised, when the lady smacked it with the spoon. "Ow!"
"That's Detective Williams, young man. You show some respect!"
"Yes, ma'am." Steve rubbed his hand where it smarted. "What else did Da- uh, Detective Williams say?" he asked suspiciously.
"He said you were dangerous, sometimes lazy, and a trouble magnet. I told him not to worry- I've dealt with your type for longer than you've been alive." Ms. Temura scooped up a pile of cafeteria trays twice her height and shoved them at Steve. "Make yourself useful while we wait - stack these over there."
Still smarting over the 'lazy' comment, Steve gestured helplessly at the crutch tucked under his arm. "I'd love to, but…"
"You're a strong, young man," she scoffed. "I'm sure you'll manage."
Grunting, Steve managed to balance the trays on one hand and work his crutch with the other. Maneuvering to the end of the cafeteria-style line, he carefully dropped the stack onto the metal shelf and adjusted them until they were perfectly straight.
"Now come unload these," she instructed, gesturing at an industrial dishwasher. "And be quick about it- we start serving in an hour."
For the next hour, Steve worked tirelessly under the eagle-eyed older woman, unloading, unboxing, stirring, moving, mixing, and doing whatever else she needed. When customers began to arrive, he was placed on the serving line with a large vat of slightly-purple, mostly-grey poi and spent another two hours ladling the sticky, soupy mixture into bowls. By nightfall, the long hours of standing without a break had taken their toll: his leg wouldn't stop throbbing, his joints ached, and his arm felt bruised from the repeated pressure of the crutch. He had just begun to debate asking for few minutes to sit when one of the largest men he had ever seen stepped through the doorway.
Steve wasn't short. Far from it. But this man had a good six inches and several hundred pounds- most of it muscle- on Steve. Part native Hawaiian, part Samoan, and likely part Poseidon himself, the man wore enough tattoos to make a full outfit, and a thick scowl that said plainly, Back off.
He sauntered up to the counter, glaring. Steve could swear he could see steam rising from his skin. The man glanced over the food on the assembly line and scowled even darker. "Mother fucking…" he muttered, skipping the line and walking down toward the end. Apparently not seeing what he wanted, his head shot up, looking for a victim. "Where's the damn steak?!" he called out loudly.
Steve stepped up before some other poor soul could intervene. "We don't have steak tonight. We've got soup, poi, teriyaki chicken and some breadsticks." It was an odd mix, but he figured soup kitchens made do with whatever they could get.
The menu apparently sounded unappetizing. "Piss off," the man growled. He looked over the counter toward whoever was in the back. "I want steak!" he yelled at no one in particular.
"Hey!" Steve snapped a finger, drawing the man's attention back. "This is a soup kitchen, not a 4-star restaurant. You want steak, you go somewhere else, yeah?"
The man drew himself up to his full height, leaned over the counter and stared down at Steve. As the man exhaled slowly, Steve had the sudden impression of being face-to-face with a bull. His hot breath smelled like sour beer and spoiled food, and Steve immediately quit inhaling so he wouldn't gag. In his head, he could hear Danny ranting: Danger! Hello, earth to Steven- do not poke the grumpy bull with a stick! Steve unconsciously backed up a step.
"You telling me to leave?" the man asked in a low voice.
"If you can't act like a civilized person, yes." In the back of his head, Steve heard Danny snort, Oh, that's fine irony coming from you, you animal.
The man leaned in closer. "She leave you in charge?" After a pause, during which Steve didn't answer him, the man leaned down until his face hovered just above Steve's. "You get that woman out here and tell her I'm tired of having shit for dinner. I want some real food. Meat. Kalua pork. Steak. A real burger."
"She's busy."
"She ignoring me?"
"No," Steve said slowly, watching the man's face flush and feeling his own ire rising, "she's busy."
"You tell her Tupo want to see her."
"I'll tell her when she's not busy." Steve dumped more food on a tray and pushed it down to the next volunteer. "You're holding up the line."
Tupo glowered at him. "I guess I go find da auntie myself." Turning, he marched down toward the end of the counter.
"Like hell you will!" Steve muttered. He seized his crutch and hobbled after him, stopping him at the gap at the end of the row just as Tupo was about to round the corner. Steve leaned his crutch just out of sight and tried to stand straight. "Like I told you, she's busy right now. You'll have to wait." His warning tone, which he reserved for impulsive, young sailors, had no impact on the other man.
Instead, Tupo brushed him off. "She always got time for Tupo." He tried to move forward, but Steve pushed him back.
"What da hell is your problem?" Tupo demanded angrily.
"Right now, it's you, pal."
"You got a problem with me?" The already large man drew himself up until he loomed dangerously above Steve. "Or maybe you got a problem with people like me?" he challenged, closing in on Steve's space. "What you saying, haole? You saying you have a problem with kanaka maoli?" Behind Tupo, the place quieted; several dozen eyes watched the standoff warily. "You ain't one of us. Maybe you should go back to da mainland, yeah? Get your offa these islands. You insulting my ancestors, brah."
Steve waved the serving spoon at him. "If you come in here all bent out of shape, you should be happy you get a meal at all."
"You should be happy I don't break your scrawny neck."
"My scrawny neck?" Steve parroted in disbelief. In the past ten years, he had never been called scrawny. Stupid, idiot, mentally-incapacitated Neanderthal, and various animal names came to mind, but never scrawny. Until now. "Is that how you want to do this?" he challenged hotly. He could see the man bristling for a fight, and Steve intended to give him one. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Danny's voice yelled at him to stop, but Steve's anger was roused and he frankly didn't care what Danny thought at the moment. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?" All thoughts of his injuries were gone. Adrenaline spiked; he forgot about his leg and the crutches and the recently-removed sling on his arm. Steve could take this man; he had years of training, and this was just some brutishly large oaf.
Tupo leered down at him. "Brah, I don't 'think' I could break you- I will break you, and I'm gonna enjoy doing it. Now either get me some real food, find me da Auntie, or get outta my way."
Steve opened his mouth to reply when unexpectedly a sweet voice chirped from the kitchen, "Ah! Tupo, you came tonight!" Ms. Temura bustled into view, a heavy-laden tray between her hands. Steve reached out to help her, but she brushed him away, lifted the tray up with ease, and slid it into the rack on the counter. Pausing briefly, she settled her hands on her hips and beamed up at the large man. "Where were you yesterday?"
"Away," Tupo growled shortly.
"Ah, I missed you. It's good you came tonight." Ms. Temura pushed between the two men, wiping food off the counter table with a rag, seemingly not noticing the tension as a temporary truce settled between the two men. In the dining room, conversations resumed; crisis averted. "Your mother okay? She is not sick again?"
The large man puffed out slowly and seemed to deflate. Like a pufferfish, Steve thought. Toxic, too. He watched Tupo reluctantly turned away from Steve (not without one last glare) to face Ms. Temura. "No, Auntie. She fine."
"You need a plate for her? I fix you a plate to take with you."
"Maybe later," Tupo rumbled, like low, distant thunder. There was a brief pause. "I want some real food."
Ms. Temura tossed the rag into the sink and began to stir the deep pot of purple-grey, sticky pudding she had on the stove. "You don't like poi?"
A grunt.
"Tupo… you ever leave here hungry?"
"No…"
"Then I fix you a nice plate, and some to take home, yes?" She began ladle poi into a Styrofoam box.
Tupo's eyes narrowed. Steve barely had time to duck before Tupo suddenly swore, swatted the box to the ground, splattering poi everywhere, and stalked out.
Steve moved immediately to go after him, but Ms. Temura caught his arm. "Help me clean this up," she said, waving at the mess on the floor.
"But-"
"Pick your battles, son. That one isn't worth fighting."
Steve glowered after the man. "Can I take a five-minute break?"
"No."
He stared at her in surprise. "Two minutes?" he tried, knowing it sounded like a whine.
Ms. Temura narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "And have you beat that man up? Or rather, him beat you?" She gave a quick shake of her wispy, white hair. "No. Now get back to work."
"But he-"
"Called us nasty names? Said mean things?" A flash of a smile softened her face. "It's no worse than any other day. He hasn't had a pleasant life. Angry at the world right now, but he'll come through." The softness disappeared and she waved her spatula threateningly. "Now you're holding up the line, young man- get back to work!"
…
Steve worked the line until the numbers dwindled; then he was assigned clean-up, and then dish duty. Tupo did not return, but the night never seemed to end. Finally, after the last dishes were rinsed, Steve was given the last of the night's chores: taking out the trash.
The dumpster was located at the side of the building in an alley abutting the street. Steve lifted the two large bags in, slammed the door, and then took the opportunity to lean against the wall and finally relax. Night had fallen over the city, and humid, warm sea air moved sluggishly through the streets, bringing with it the beginnings of a heavy fog. Steve rubbed his aching leg and winced; then he noticed another shape in the dark. Squinting, he made out Tupo leaned against a building just across the street.
"Hey," Steve called out, walking toward him.
Tupo immediately pushed away from the building and turned in the other direction.
"Hey! Stop!"
"Or what, cop?" Tupo snarled, coming to a halt. "You gonna try to arrest me with your crutch?"
Steve paused. How had the man known he was a cop?
As if reading his thoughts, Tupo snorted. "I know who you are- I see da news. Know a lot of people would be happy if maybe I dragged you into that alley back there… maybe we have a little match, one-on-one."
Steve tensed and looked around, suddenly regretting his decision to follow alone.
"But don't worry," Tupo waved half-heartedly at Steve's injured leg, "wouldn't be a fair fight."
Steve shifted on his crutches, his anger from earlier flaming back to life. "You owe Ms. Temura an apology," he said, feeling a bit like Danny chiding Grace or Charlie.
"You my mother or something?" the man scoffed. "I don't think so, brah." He turned away.
"Hey!" Steve hobbled after him.
"What?!" the man growled in exasperation.
"What's your deal? She feeds you a hot meal, better than most of the crap you'd get at the other places, and then you go cuss her out and make a mess? What's your problem?"
"My problem?" The beast drew himself up to his full height as he rounded on Steve. "I don't have a problem with Ms. Temura. But you about to have a big problem."
On a good day, Steve might have stood a chance. Today, it would be a losing battle. Still, he couldn't let the matter drop. "Why did you say those things?" he pushed. "You act like you hate her." He half expected to get thrown into the wall.
"Hate her?" Tupo snorted softly. "Ms. Temura one of da nicest aunties on this damn island."
"So what's the deal? You treat everybody you love like that?"
To his surprise, the large man drew back and gave him a funny look. "You don't get it, do you? Ms. Temura- she know when I had a bad day. Anybody else, they kick me out. Ms. Temura- she tell me to take a walk if it's bad. Come back later- she still have something hot for me."
"Oh." Steve wasn't sure what to say.
"Yeah. Oh," Tupo spat, badly mimicking Steve's expression; then he waved a large hand. "You turn up, some self-righteous haole, and run around these islands like you own da place. But Ms. Temura- she walk da talk." The man turned away and headed down the street, his long, slow steps silent in the damp evening air. Eventually, he faded into the mist.
Steve watched him go. For a long time after, he stayed standing under the light post, staring at the spot in the distance where the man had disappeared.
…
"I see you're still in one piece." Danny paused and sniffed. "What is that smell?"
"Poi."
"I hope it comes out, because it is revolting." He paused. "If you were a dog, I'd make you ride in the trunk."
"That's animal abuse."
"And that smell is nasal abuse. Roll down the window."
"It's a traditional Hawaiian dish, Danny."
"That doesn't mean it's good."
Steve had to agree with him on that one, but he said nothing. He lowered the window and watched the city roll by in silence.
"So… it went well?" Danny ventured cautiously after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Steve admitted, feeling somewhat surprised himself.
"So you're going back tomorrow."
"I don't know. Denning said he wanted to see me tomorrow morning. I guess you can drop me off on your way in to work?"
"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to you being cleared to drive again," Danny muttered.
"Is that a 'yes'?"
"Would it change anything if I said 'no'?"
The question was rhetorical.
A/N: I'm having trouble receiving email notifications of reviews, traffic stats, and other information. Let me know if you notice anything weird or don't receive any emails showing this chapter update (if you receive notifications for that sort of thing).
