[Hawaii Five-0] Steve/Danny - The Courtship and Wooing of Steve McGarrett
Title: The Courtship and Wooing of Steve McGarrett
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,337
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Danny realizes he is attracted to Steve, and decides to do something about it.
Notes: This was written for annundriel. I’ve read a few Steve-woos-Danny fics, and enjoyed them; this is my take on Danny wooing Steve.
The moment Danny Williams realized he was attracted to Steve McGarrett, it was a Tuesday afternoon. There was nothing particularly special about this Tuesday; a case had been closed yesterday, and they were still exploring several leads for their next one. No car chases, no armed conflict. The day had been positively sedate. It was stupid, really; Kono had made some joke, and Steve had ducked his head, laughing. For a moment, Danny saw that dimpled smile, the eyes crinkling at the corners, eyelashes standing out against skin-and something inside of him had lurched, off-balance. Oh.
This was followed by a minor freakout while Danny considered the fact that all this time, he had apparently been falling head-over-heels for his batshit insane partner. Really, why couldn’t he be attracted to anyone normal? Someone who at least had a healthy sense of self-preservation.
Once Danny had come to terms with the knowledge that he did, indeed, have the hots for Steve (and more than in just a “I want to do you against the nearest horizontal surface” kind of way), he wondered what he should do about it. Ignoring it was out of the question. It would be hypocritical, to say the least, especially taking into account the usual behavior of Steve I-like-my-manpain-how-I-like-my-coconuts-with-a-tough-exterior McGarrett. Of course, there was the minor issue of not knowing if Steve reciprocated said feelings, or if he even had an interest in men at all. Hazardous as it was to his health, Danny was not about to risk his job on a whim. He would just have to find out if Steve was interested using…subtler methods.
---
The problem, Danny realized later, once he had embarked upon Operation Most Likely Get Yourself Fired, was that it had been a long time since he had romantically pursued anybody. In fact, more often it was the other person initiating things, like Rachel with her car stunt, or the incident at Niagara Falls. Danny was woefully out of practice, and part of him irrationally wondered if all the rules had changed over the past ten years.
The basic rules of engagement must still be the same, though, right? Namely, act agreeable towards the person you were pursuing. Extend kind gestures towards them, and make an effort to like the things that interested them. How difficult could it be?
---
“I’m just about ready here,” Steve said over the phone on Wednesday morning, “ETA twenty minutes.”
“Now, let me stop you there, for just a moment,” Danny said. He was fumbling the keys to his apartment while holding the phone about an inch from his ear (he hadn’t yet mastered how to make calls from the touchscreen without his cheek hanging up on whoever was on the other end of the line, something that had caused more than one unfortunate misunderstanding with Rachel). “Do you realize it would take you two fewer syllables to simply say, ‘Be there in twenty,’ and you’d run less risk of confusing people with your Navy jargon?”
“Do you realize you just wasted a lot of breath there when you understood me just fine anyway? Though…I do believe that’s the first time you’ve actually remembered it was the Navy.”
“I don’t just rant during our illuminating conversations, sometimes I listen too,” Danny said, getting into the car, “Anyway, it sounds like you’re still at your house; I called because I wanted to know if you’d like me to pick you up on the way to HPD.”
A pause, then, on the other end of the line. “Are you serious?”
“Am I serious, he asks. Yes, I’m serious. I just figure there’s no point in you driving that truck of yours to HPD when you’re going to spend the entire day in my car anyway. Reduce your carbon footprint, and all that. Speaking of, you should really cut back on your paper towel usage.”
Steve laughed. Danny could see it in his mind, the way Steve ducked his head, eyes creasing in that far-more-adorable-than-it-had-any-right-to-be way. Oh god, he had it bad. “Sure,” Steve said, “When you get here, can I drive?”
“And what, exactly, would be the point of me picking you up if you’re just doing to take the keys from me when I get here? See you in five,” Danny said, hanging up.
When he arrived at Steve’s house, he handed the keys over without complaint. Well, with minimal complaint; he was, after all, still himself.
---
Danny’s efforts at being a more agreeable individual were sorely tested that afternoon. Steve had just cuffed a drug dealer, and then he turned to Danny with a self-satisfied smile one would expect to see on a cat that had just dragged in a dead bird. Danny knew what Steve was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“Book ‘em, Danno.”
While Danny wanted to argue the point, wanted to tell Steve he should just book the guy himself, he reined in his opinions. “Sure thing. When do you want the paperwork by?”
Steve did a double-take, almost staggered. He looked at Danny with an expression of incredulity, brows furrowed over wide eyes. “Really? You aren’t going to fight me on this?”
“Why are you always questioning me? It’s like you want me to change my mind. Yes, I got this. Besides, when you do the paperwork you always leave stuff out, and then we get angry memos from the Governor. I’m just doing my part to keep your task force, and by extension, my job, in her good graces.”
Steve smiled. “Well, when you put it that way, who am I to argue with your logic?”
It was worth it, Danny thought later as he filled out paperwork, to see those smiles Steve would flash his direction, though that didn’t mean he would always do the booking without complaint.
---
The not-complaining thing became much more difficult on Friday afternoon, when Steve neglected to call in backup. But, in that case, the entire team’s safety could be compromised, so Danny felt completely justified when he called Steve a moron.
When they all made it out safe in the end, Danny offered to pay for Steve’s beer, to take the sting out of the moron comment.
---
Everything so far had been within the realm of plausible deniability; if he wanted Steve to take notice of his efforts, Danny would have to up his game a little.
When Danny walked into their headquarters on Monday morning, Kono was the first one to take notice.
“Brah, you forget to pick up the dry cleaning over the weekend? You’re looking Kama ‘aina.”
At that, Steve looked over from the multiple computer screens. It was almost comical to watch his expression, the way his eyes widened perceptibly as his gaze locked on Danny.
“You aren’t wearing a tie,” Steve said, sounding genuinely puzzled by this occurrence, like he was expecting some sort of misdirection.
“Yes, thank you, Sherlock, for that stunning piece of detective work. Correct, I’m not wearing a tie. No, it isn’t because I failed to pick up the dry cleaning, nor has any sort of disaster befallen the neckwear portion of my wardrobe. I simply decided to forego the tie this morning.”
Steve nodded, and Danny wondered if he was imagining the way Steve’s eyes seemed to linger on the hollow of his throat. “I like it,” Steve said-cautiously, perhaps?
“Yes, well,” Danny said, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “It seems I can adapt to new situations, and all that.”
It was a little staggering how much that was true, when he thought about it. Over the weeks, Danny had thought of Hawaii not just as Grace’s new home, but as, perhaps, a place that could be home for him as well. That feeling was only intensified by the grin on Steve’s face.
---
“What,” Danny said on Tuesday, drawing the words out slowly, “is that?”
“It’s your lunch,” Steve offered, “I asked if you wanted me to pick something up for you.”
“A mistake I won’t me making again, I assure you.” Danny eyed the…whatever it was, in front of him warily. “What, the usual sandwich fare in this vicinity not good enough? What is it?”
“It’s called Spam Musubi,” Steve said, grinning and way too excited, “It’s a slice of Spam marinated in teriyaki, layered on top of a cake of rice, and wrapped up in dried seaweed.”
No one should look excited over the prospect of eating that. Danny wondered again, not for the last time, why he couldn’t have been attracted to someone normal. No, this was clearly some form of karmic punishment.
“Let me just…back you up there, for a second,” Danny said slowly, resisting the urge to rub at his temples-he could almost feel the beginnings of a headache there. “You lost be at Spam. Spam, seriously?”
Steve had the Wounded Puppy face going. “It’s a traditional Hawaiian snack, Danny.”
“Exactly my point! No piece of traditional cuisine from any locale should have ‘Spam’ in its title.”
The Wounded Puppy look wasn’t going anywhere, and Danny reminded himself that if he wanted to endear himself to Steve, he at least had to make an effort. Even if that included trying all sorts of wacky foods.
“Alright, fine,” Danny said, with a very put-upon sigh, “I’ll try anything once.”
Danny picked up the Spam Musubi-how were you supposed to hold it, like a sandwich?-and took a tentative bite. He chewed slowly, while Steve watched him with a hopeful expression.
“It’s…interesting,” Danny said once he had swallowed, “I will grant you that it is edible, and better than I had expected it would be.”
Steve’s grin was blinding, and Danny resolved to try other traditional Hawaiian foods, just to see that smile directed at him again.
“But just so you know, someday you’ll be in Jersey, and then it’ll be my turn to introduce you to my favorite foods. There’s this place in Atlantic City, the White House Sub Shop, that makes the best steak-cheese sub anywhere.”
Steve smiled. “I’ll hold you to that. But, I thought it was called a cheesesteak sub?”
Danny snorted. “If you’re from Philly, maybe, where they think Cheez Whiz is an appropriate topping for a sandwich. True connoisseurs of the steak-cheese know that provolone is far superior.”
It was only later, after Danny had finished his Spam Musubi-which, he had to grudgingly admit, wasn’t bad, especially once you got past the texture of the seaweed-that he realized he had sort-of invited Steve to visit New Jersey with him. And Steve had sort-of accepted.
---
The hardest part of Danny’s whole make-an-effort-to-like-the-things-he-likes plan was where Steve’s taste in music was concerned. If possible, it had gotten worse, especially over the last couple days. It seemed like not a car ride would go by without some cheesy 80s power ballad blasting over the speakers. Danny gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore it, even when Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was making him entertain a variety of increasingly violent thoughts.
Around the third time he heard “I Want To Know What Love Is,” it occurred to Danny that he and Steve might both be playing the same game.
“Seriously? Seriously?! You, with the-and then the-…” Danny’s hands were gesticulating wildly, filling in the spaces where words failed him.
“Something the matter, Danno?” Steve asked, eyebrows quirking up in bemusement.
“Yes! You are the matter! You with your driving of my car and your ‘Book ‘em, Danno’s and your weird food and your bad music! You’re doing it because…because you like me!” More hand gestures, because Danny couldn’t communicate his current feelings using only words.
“Ye-es,” Steve said slowly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Steve put the car in park, and Danny took a fraction of a second to ascertain they were at Steve’s house.
“So, what, you figured you would irritate me into submission? When I’ve been going out of my way these last two weeks to be more agreeable?”
Steve actually appeared to consider this, the bastard. “Something like that, yeah.”
Steve reached down, unbuckled his seatbelt. Then he was leaning across, doing the same for Danny’s. There was a momentum to his movements, like he couldn’t-wouldn’t-be stopped. Danny didn’t plan on stopping him.
“Wait-wait, just a moment. Let me get this straight, and then you can continue right on with what you’re doing,” Danny said, “So, hypothetically speaking, if this is an elementary school, you’re the kid pulling pigtails, and I’m the one writing, ‘Do you like me or do you like me like me? Please circle one,’ notes?”
Steve laughed. “Something like that,” he said, voice low.
And then he was leaning across the seat, taking Danny’s face in his hands, and kissing him. It was slow and precise, not tentative-there was no uncertainty in Steve’s actions-more like a thoughtful sort of deliberation, of wanting to savor…to remember this moment. Danny lost himself in the press of lips, the touch of stubble, in the way he wanted to take everything Steve was offering and give as much back in return. He moaned, low in his throat, and then things became a little more frantic, a lot less controlled.
“Just so we’re clear,” Danny said, breaking off the kissing when it became obvious they would have to move it someplace more spacious, “I am not the girl in this situation.”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up pigtails,” Steve said.
“Yes, but you’re the one who was making a ‘Greatest Washed-Up Love Songs’ mix tape.”
It was unfair, really, how Steve’s ridiculous smile made him feel all melty inside.
“Fair enough,” Steve said, leaning in again to kiss him, hard and dirty. “For the record,” he said a moment later, eyeing the way Danny’s trousers were tenting, “I would never call you a girl in this situation.”
“Damn straight,” Danny said, pulling Steve back towards him.
---
Also at AO3
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,337
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Danny realizes he is attracted to Steve, and decides to do something about it.
Notes: This was written for annundriel. I’ve read a few Steve-woos-Danny fics, and enjoyed them; this is my take on Danny wooing Steve.
The moment Danny Williams realized he was attracted to Steve McGarrett, it was a Tuesday afternoon. There was nothing particularly special about this Tuesday; a case had been closed yesterday, and they were still exploring several leads for their next one. No car chases, no armed conflict. The day had been positively sedate. It was stupid, really; Kono had made some joke, and Steve had ducked his head, laughing. For a moment, Danny saw that dimpled smile, the eyes crinkling at the corners, eyelashes standing out against skin-and something inside of him had lurched, off-balance. Oh.
This was followed by a minor freakout while Danny considered the fact that all this time, he had apparently been falling head-over-heels for his batshit insane partner. Really, why couldn’t he be attracted to anyone normal? Someone who at least had a healthy sense of self-preservation.
Once Danny had come to terms with the knowledge that he did, indeed, have the hots for Steve (and more than in just a “I want to do you against the nearest horizontal surface” kind of way), he wondered what he should do about it. Ignoring it was out of the question. It would be hypocritical, to say the least, especially taking into account the usual behavior of Steve I-like-my-manpain-how-I-like-my-coconuts-with-a-tough-exterior McGarrett. Of course, there was the minor issue of not knowing if Steve reciprocated said feelings, or if he even had an interest in men at all. Hazardous as it was to his health, Danny was not about to risk his job on a whim. He would just have to find out if Steve was interested using…subtler methods.
---
The problem, Danny realized later, once he had embarked upon Operation Most Likely Get Yourself Fired, was that it had been a long time since he had romantically pursued anybody. In fact, more often it was the other person initiating things, like Rachel with her car stunt, or the incident at Niagara Falls. Danny was woefully out of practice, and part of him irrationally wondered if all the rules had changed over the past ten years.
The basic rules of engagement must still be the same, though, right? Namely, act agreeable towards the person you were pursuing. Extend kind gestures towards them, and make an effort to like the things that interested them. How difficult could it be?
---
“I’m just about ready here,” Steve said over the phone on Wednesday morning, “ETA twenty minutes.”
“Now, let me stop you there, for just a moment,” Danny said. He was fumbling the keys to his apartment while holding the phone about an inch from his ear (he hadn’t yet mastered how to make calls from the touchscreen without his cheek hanging up on whoever was on the other end of the line, something that had caused more than one unfortunate misunderstanding with Rachel). “Do you realize it would take you two fewer syllables to simply say, ‘Be there in twenty,’ and you’d run less risk of confusing people with your Navy jargon?”
“Do you realize you just wasted a lot of breath there when you understood me just fine anyway? Though…I do believe that’s the first time you’ve actually remembered it was the Navy.”
“I don’t just rant during our illuminating conversations, sometimes I listen too,” Danny said, getting into the car, “Anyway, it sounds like you’re still at your house; I called because I wanted to know if you’d like me to pick you up on the way to HPD.”
A pause, then, on the other end of the line. “Are you serious?”
“Am I serious, he asks. Yes, I’m serious. I just figure there’s no point in you driving that truck of yours to HPD when you’re going to spend the entire day in my car anyway. Reduce your carbon footprint, and all that. Speaking of, you should really cut back on your paper towel usage.”
Steve laughed. Danny could see it in his mind, the way Steve ducked his head, eyes creasing in that far-more-adorable-than-it-had-any-right-to-be way. Oh god, he had it bad. “Sure,” Steve said, “When you get here, can I drive?”
“And what, exactly, would be the point of me picking you up if you’re just doing to take the keys from me when I get here? See you in five,” Danny said, hanging up.
When he arrived at Steve’s house, he handed the keys over without complaint. Well, with minimal complaint; he was, after all, still himself.
---
Danny’s efforts at being a more agreeable individual were sorely tested that afternoon. Steve had just cuffed a drug dealer, and then he turned to Danny with a self-satisfied smile one would expect to see on a cat that had just dragged in a dead bird. Danny knew what Steve was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“Book ‘em, Danno.”
While Danny wanted to argue the point, wanted to tell Steve he should just book the guy himself, he reined in his opinions. “Sure thing. When do you want the paperwork by?”
Steve did a double-take, almost staggered. He looked at Danny with an expression of incredulity, brows furrowed over wide eyes. “Really? You aren’t going to fight me on this?”
“Why are you always questioning me? It’s like you want me to change my mind. Yes, I got this. Besides, when you do the paperwork you always leave stuff out, and then we get angry memos from the Governor. I’m just doing my part to keep your task force, and by extension, my job, in her good graces.”
Steve smiled. “Well, when you put it that way, who am I to argue with your logic?”
It was worth it, Danny thought later as he filled out paperwork, to see those smiles Steve would flash his direction, though that didn’t mean he would always do the booking without complaint.
---
The not-complaining thing became much more difficult on Friday afternoon, when Steve neglected to call in backup. But, in that case, the entire team’s safety could be compromised, so Danny felt completely justified when he called Steve a moron.
When they all made it out safe in the end, Danny offered to pay for Steve’s beer, to take the sting out of the moron comment.
---
Everything so far had been within the realm of plausible deniability; if he wanted Steve to take notice of his efforts, Danny would have to up his game a little.
When Danny walked into their headquarters on Monday morning, Kono was the first one to take notice.
“Brah, you forget to pick up the dry cleaning over the weekend? You’re looking Kama ‘aina.”
At that, Steve looked over from the multiple computer screens. It was almost comical to watch his expression, the way his eyes widened perceptibly as his gaze locked on Danny.
“You aren’t wearing a tie,” Steve said, sounding genuinely puzzled by this occurrence, like he was expecting some sort of misdirection.
“Yes, thank you, Sherlock, for that stunning piece of detective work. Correct, I’m not wearing a tie. No, it isn’t because I failed to pick up the dry cleaning, nor has any sort of disaster befallen the neckwear portion of my wardrobe. I simply decided to forego the tie this morning.”
Steve nodded, and Danny wondered if he was imagining the way Steve’s eyes seemed to linger on the hollow of his throat. “I like it,” Steve said-cautiously, perhaps?
“Yes, well,” Danny said, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “It seems I can adapt to new situations, and all that.”
It was a little staggering how much that was true, when he thought about it. Over the weeks, Danny had thought of Hawaii not just as Grace’s new home, but as, perhaps, a place that could be home for him as well. That feeling was only intensified by the grin on Steve’s face.
---
“What,” Danny said on Tuesday, drawing the words out slowly, “is that?”
“It’s your lunch,” Steve offered, “I asked if you wanted me to pick something up for you.”
“A mistake I won’t me making again, I assure you.” Danny eyed the…whatever it was, in front of him warily. “What, the usual sandwich fare in this vicinity not good enough? What is it?”
“It’s called Spam Musubi,” Steve said, grinning and way too excited, “It’s a slice of Spam marinated in teriyaki, layered on top of a cake of rice, and wrapped up in dried seaweed.”
No one should look excited over the prospect of eating that. Danny wondered again, not for the last time, why he couldn’t have been attracted to someone normal. No, this was clearly some form of karmic punishment.
“Let me just…back you up there, for a second,” Danny said slowly, resisting the urge to rub at his temples-he could almost feel the beginnings of a headache there. “You lost be at Spam. Spam, seriously?”
Steve had the Wounded Puppy face going. “It’s a traditional Hawaiian snack, Danny.”
“Exactly my point! No piece of traditional cuisine from any locale should have ‘Spam’ in its title.”
The Wounded Puppy look wasn’t going anywhere, and Danny reminded himself that if he wanted to endear himself to Steve, he at least had to make an effort. Even if that included trying all sorts of wacky foods.
“Alright, fine,” Danny said, with a very put-upon sigh, “I’ll try anything once.”
Danny picked up the Spam Musubi-how were you supposed to hold it, like a sandwich?-and took a tentative bite. He chewed slowly, while Steve watched him with a hopeful expression.
“It’s…interesting,” Danny said once he had swallowed, “I will grant you that it is edible, and better than I had expected it would be.”
Steve’s grin was blinding, and Danny resolved to try other traditional Hawaiian foods, just to see that smile directed at him again.
“But just so you know, someday you’ll be in Jersey, and then it’ll be my turn to introduce you to my favorite foods. There’s this place in Atlantic City, the White House Sub Shop, that makes the best steak-cheese sub anywhere.”
Steve smiled. “I’ll hold you to that. But, I thought it was called a cheesesteak sub?”
Danny snorted. “If you’re from Philly, maybe, where they think Cheez Whiz is an appropriate topping for a sandwich. True connoisseurs of the steak-cheese know that provolone is far superior.”
It was only later, after Danny had finished his Spam Musubi-which, he had to grudgingly admit, wasn’t bad, especially once you got past the texture of the seaweed-that he realized he had sort-of invited Steve to visit New Jersey with him. And Steve had sort-of accepted.
---
The hardest part of Danny’s whole make-an-effort-to-like-the-things-he-likes plan was where Steve’s taste in music was concerned. If possible, it had gotten worse, especially over the last couple days. It seemed like not a car ride would go by without some cheesy 80s power ballad blasting over the speakers. Danny gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore it, even when Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was making him entertain a variety of increasingly violent thoughts.
Around the third time he heard “I Want To Know What Love Is,” it occurred to Danny that he and Steve might both be playing the same game.
“Seriously? Seriously?! You, with the-and then the-…” Danny’s hands were gesticulating wildly, filling in the spaces where words failed him.
“Something the matter, Danno?” Steve asked, eyebrows quirking up in bemusement.
“Yes! You are the matter! You with your driving of my car and your ‘Book ‘em, Danno’s and your weird food and your bad music! You’re doing it because…because you like me!” More hand gestures, because Danny couldn’t communicate his current feelings using only words.
“Ye-es,” Steve said slowly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Steve put the car in park, and Danny took a fraction of a second to ascertain they were at Steve’s house.
“So, what, you figured you would irritate me into submission? When I’ve been going out of my way these last two weeks to be more agreeable?”
Steve actually appeared to consider this, the bastard. “Something like that, yeah.”
Steve reached down, unbuckled his seatbelt. Then he was leaning across, doing the same for Danny’s. There was a momentum to his movements, like he couldn’t-wouldn’t-be stopped. Danny didn’t plan on stopping him.
“Wait-wait, just a moment. Let me get this straight, and then you can continue right on with what you’re doing,” Danny said, “So, hypothetically speaking, if this is an elementary school, you’re the kid pulling pigtails, and I’m the one writing, ‘Do you like me or do you like me like me? Please circle one,’ notes?”
Steve laughed. “Something like that,” he said, voice low.
And then he was leaning across the seat, taking Danny’s face in his hands, and kissing him. It was slow and precise, not tentative-there was no uncertainty in Steve’s actions-more like a thoughtful sort of deliberation, of wanting to savor…to remember this moment. Danny lost himself in the press of lips, the touch of stubble, in the way he wanted to take everything Steve was offering and give as much back in return. He moaned, low in his throat, and then things became a little more frantic, a lot less controlled.
“Just so we’re clear,” Danny said, breaking off the kissing when it became obvious they would have to move it someplace more spacious, “I am not the girl in this situation.”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up pigtails,” Steve said.
“Yes, but you’re the one who was making a ‘Greatest Washed-Up Love Songs’ mix tape.”
It was unfair, really, how Steve’s ridiculous smile made him feel all melty inside.
“Fair enough,” Steve said, leaning in again to kiss him, hard and dirty. “For the record,” he said a moment later, eyeing the way Danny’s trousers were tenting, “I would never call you a girl in this situation.”
“Damn straight,” Danny said, pulling Steve back towards him.
---
Also at AO3