FIC: Blue Hawaiian (Steve/Danny, PG-13)

Dec 23, 2010 18:09

Blue Hawaiian | Hawaii Five-0 | Steve/Danny
~2500 words | PG-13 for language
Danny drunk dials Steve.
Thanks to J for the beta. ♥

Blue Hawaiian

"This is all your fault, you know," Danny says, slurring slightly, and realizes afterwards that he maybe could have started with hello.

"Danny?" says Steve, sounding irritatingly alert considering he must have been asleep. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"No, everything is not okay," Danny snaps, or at least he tries to snap but okay ends up with an extra syllable somehow. "You know why? Because I finally had some time off work for the first time in for--in a long time, and I wasn’t too tired - I mean, more than usual - so I went out with someone. A person. For dinner. It was nice. Or well, it should have been nice, except it was so, so awful, McGarrett, you have no idea."

There's a long pause and then Steve says, "Are you drunk?"

"No. Yes."

"Where are you?" There's a shuffling on the other end of the line, the sound of a bed creaking.

"It's this bar. Lulu's Wai--"

"Lulu's?" Steve echoes. "Why would you go there? Are you on spring break?"

"Why are you so critical of everything I do? Don't you think that's just adding insult to the wound? Or, uh...huh. Whatever that expression is." Danny stops, momentarily distracted by the sound of Steve zipping up his pants. "It’s bad enough that you get on my case about everything else in my life. Now I can’t just drink where I want to drink?"

“You called me,” Steve points out, and there’s more movement, the sound of a door closing. "And you didn't tell me you were going on a date."

“Well, that's because I knew what you'd say,” Danny says. He picks up a lemon slice from from his glass and inspects it. "I thought it was going well. I mean, I can be charming. I have been on dates before. I know how they work. But apparently the island girls here don’t appreciate charm. Or maybe it’s just Jersey charm. But I swear I wasn’t being that Jersey..."

"Look, stay put, I'm coming to get you, all right?"

"Stay? What am I, a German Shepard? Also, who says I need you to come get me?" He sees the bartender glaring at him out of the corner of his eye and adds, "I am perfectly capable of calling my own taxi. I am at much less risk of death with a crazy taxi driver than I am with you. Just because you have control issues and need to drive like a maniac does not mean that I need you to drive me everywhere. And control me. Everywhere.”

"Well, too late," says Steve, and Danny hears keys jiggling. "I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"No, are you not even paying attention? The last thing I need is you projecting all of your control issues at me-" Suddenly he stops short. "Hello, are you listening, McGarrett?" He looks at his phone, blinks a few times at the too-bright screen, and sees that the call has ended. "Goddamn it."

There's a drunk college student standing next to him at the bar - probably on spring break, goddamn it - and he grins stupidly at Danny over the rim of his beer. "Was that your wife?" he asks with an obnoxious chortle.

"No, it's my partner," Danny replies without thinking, then expels a frustrated breath when the kid starts laughing even harder. “He’s my - you know what, I am not even going to try to explain.”

*****

Danny isn't sure how long it takes Steve to get to the bar, but it doesn't even feel like five minutes. He thinks this has more to do with Steve's driving than it does with his perception of time passing.

"This place is like ten minutes from your house," Danny says when he sees him. "How many land speed records did you break getting here?"

Steve gives him a weird look. "Danny, I did not drive that fast."

“Somehow I find that very hard to believe,” Danny says. “You always drive like a crazy person, it doesn’t matter if we’re chasing someone down or just driving from point A to point B.”

“Do you need a hand?” Steve asks as Danny stumbles a little getting off his stool.

“I can walk on my own, I am definitely not that drunk,” Danny says, and leaves a few bills at the bar. “I am not drunk at all, okay? I have had a few drinks. Three. Or maybe more. But I am definitely not drunk.”

“Sure,” Steve says, eyeing him skeptically as Danny walks out the door.

Steve is parked out on the street in a no-parking zone, and there is a police officer standing next to the truck, glancing up and down the street like he's waiting for trouble. When Steve pops open the door, the officer nods respectfully, says, "Good night, commander," and continues his patrol.

Danny glances back and forth between them. "Did you - did you flash your badge so you could get free parking?"

“I would never abuse my power that way,” Steve says, grinning, and he watches Danny carefully as he slides into the passenger seat, looking at Steve skeptically.

“You’re a liar. And you’re staring at me, it’s unnerving.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, completely unrepentant. He starts the truck again and drives off, slower than usual.

“You are driving like an old lady,” Danny observes.

“I’m trying to be considerate of your present state,” Steve says, motioning at Danny with his hand, and Danny squints at him like maybe Steve is plotting something evil.

“What, you only have to be considerate of me when I’m drunk? How about all the times you make me nauseous on a normal day?”

“I’m teaching you to stand up under pressure,” Steve says.

"Oh, you're teaching me?"

"Does that upset you?"

“You just don’t want me to puke in your stupid truck,” Danny says scornfully.

“And that.”

“This truck is not even as hot as you think it is,” Danny mumbles, but then he just stares out the window, thinking. “You didn’t have to speed out to get me, you know.”

“You seemed upset,” Steve says. “Also, you tend to get needlessly irate when you’re drunk, and I didn’t want you starting a bar fight with some college students.”

“I'm not drunk,” Danny snaps.

"You seem drunk."

"I've had a few drinks, that's all." He sighs, rubbing his temple. He's going to have a wicked headache in the morning. “I’m not drunk. Just depressed. Which you obviously wouldn't understand, since everything always goes swim- swimming-”

“Swimmingly?” Steve tries.

“I can talk on my own, thank you very much.” Danny pauses so Steve appreciates his annoyance. “But yes. That.”

Steve pauses and gives him a considering look. "Danny, are you okay? I mean, really? Is something going on with Rachel or Grace?"

"No, I just had a shitty date, okay." For a minute they're both quiet as Danny looks out the window.

"And so you got drunk on colorful girly drinks?”

“I did no such thing,” Danny says, crossing his arms.

“Your tongue is blue.”

“My tongue is not blue,” Danny retorts, turning away from Steve slightly. “I have been drinking vodka. With soda. Clear soda. Nothing that would turn my tongue funny colours, is what I’m saying.”

"Really? There was an empty glass on the bar next to you. It looked blue."

"That was--" Danny lets out a sharp, frustrated breath. "That was from the girl next to me, okay?"

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Steve says, and Danny wants to hit him, but Steve is driving, and that seems like a bad idea. Plus, he might miss.

"Why, what do you drink when a date goes bad, Captain Awesome? Shots of 151? Is that standard issue Navy SEAL liquor?”

“Did you just make a TV reference?” Steve asks, squinting at Danny.

“Did you just get a TV reference?” Danny says.

“When do you possibly have time to watch TV?” Steve asks. “Since you spend all your time-”

“-With you, or out on really bad dates? Yeah, I’m not sure either. And while we're on the subject, have you ever been on a shitty date? I guess not, your dates are always perfect, just, like....dinner isn't even necessary! No worrying about who pays, let's just have sex on this perfectly scenic beach at sunset!"

"Sometimes the sex is bad."

"Really?" Danny asks, looking over at him.

"Well...no," Steve concedes, and Danny throws his hands up in the air.

"Of course not. Of course everything goes perfectly for you, all the time." He realizes he sounds a lot more pathetic than he means to.

Steve pulls up to a stoplight, and Danny can feel him looking at him. “Danny, it can’t have been that bad.”

“It was pretty bad,” Danny says, slumping forward a little in his seat.

“You can talk to me about it,” Steve says, and Danny recognizes a genuine note of concern in his tone.

“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” he says, but then sighs. “We just didn’t really hit it off. She was nice enough, I guess, but she didn’t really want to talk about Grace, and after Grace all I really have to talk about is work. And who wants to hear me talking about human trafficking and bombs and terrorists all night? That is not pleasant dinner conversation.”

“I find it pretty interesting,” Steve says.

“But you’re just special like that,” Danny says. “Also, I don't think she liked my tie.”

Steve glances over at him. “I actually don’t mind that one.”

“Thanks,” Danny says graciously, choosing to believe that Steve is being sincere. “So anyway, I just talked about you for a long time. Too long, I think. She didn’t seem very happy. But, I don’t know, it’s kind of unavoidable, you’re always just....around.”

"Well, we do work together."

“We’re not working now and you’re still around.”

“Danny, you did call me,” Steve points out again. They're in Danny's neighborhood now, passing by street after street of shitty apartment complexes.

“It was an acc - acci-”

“Accident?”

“Yes. That one. I have had a little bit to drink. I am not really responsible for my bad word choices right now. What is your excuse?”

“For my bad word choices?”

“No, jackass, what’s wrong with you, you just going to repeat everything I say all night? No, for ruining my date. Single-handedly ruining my date, even.”

"Look, Danny, I'm sorry the date went badly, but I don't know what this has to do with me."

Danny just stops and looks at him. "You don't know? Are you - are you serious? You are supposed to be perceptive, you know that? It's part of your job. And here you are, being the exact opposite of that. If there’s one thing I should be able to count on you for, it should be your perceptiveness. Is that a word? Nevermind, it is now.”

“I think you should know that you’re not making very much sense right now.”

“If you were less dumb, this would be making so much sense.”

“Okay, why don’t you just tell me?”

“You have just totally messed with my life. You moved me from my job - which I liked, thank you very much - without even asking first, just all of a sudden I was your partner and now I see you all the time, so much that I can only talk about you on dates, apparently.”

“I thought you liked working 5-0,” Steve says, and he actually sounds a little hurt, but he is missing the point entirely, in true Steve fashion.

“McGarrett, that is not the point. You didn’t give me any choice, I had no control over it, and now I think your crazy is rubbing off on me, because I think about you all the time.” Danny stops talking abruptly and straightens in his seat.

“You think about me all the time?” Steve says slowly, like he’s working through the idea, and Danny momentarily debates pretending to have fallen asleep, but they’re already pulling up to his driveway.

"Like I said, you gave me no choice. My work is my life, thanks to you."

"But you didn't say you think about work all the time, you said you think about me all the time. There's a difference." Steve has this intense look in his eyes that usually precedes someone getting shot.

“You know what? Maybe I am drunk, maybe I am too drunk to be having this conversation right now,” Danny says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’m just going to go have a Tylenol and we are not going to have this discussion ever, okay?”

“Danny,” Steve says, and his grip is firm on Danny’s arm.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Danny says, avoiding Steve's eyes. “I’m going to go inside, where I can’t embarrass myself any further, and you’re going to drive home - within the speed limit, please - and-”

Steve cuts him off with a firm kiss to the mouth. It only lasts for a second, and when he pulls away Danny blinks up at him, his mouth falling open a bit.

"That was just to get you to shut up," says Steve. Then he leans in again, his body weight pressing Danny against the door, and this time it isn't chaste. This time Steve's tongue is pressed against the roof of his mouth, his hand cupping the side of Danny's face, and Danny can hardly breathe. He's hardly aware that he's clutching Steve's shirt like a life preserver before Steve pulls back slightly, looking down at him.

"You liar," Steve murmurs, the words vibrating in Danny's chest. "You totally taste like a girly drink." Danny doesn't even know what to say to that, so he just stares at Steve's mouth. “Danny,” Steve says, laughing a little, and Danny blinks at him. “Go, take your Tylenol and get some sleep. Try not to be too hungover tomorrow morning.” When Danny still doesn’t move, Steve leans forward a bit further and opens the door, arm brushing against Danny’s chest. “You have a full-” Steve glances at the clock “-seven hours away from me. Make good use of them,” he adds with a wicked smile, and Danny slides out of the truck, still feeling a little dumbstruck.

“Goodnight,” he manages as Steve pulls the door shut, and he’s pretty sure that Steve - the utter jackass - is laughing at him as he drives away, but he’s not sure he really minds.

fandom: hawaii five-0, pairing: steve/danny

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