Waking Up in Oahu
Pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams
Rating: PG
Summary: “Danny,” Steve frowns, “That vein popping out in your forehead can’t be good.”
“You,” Danny swallows, “Don’t even,” he points his finger, ever-present, and motions for him to sit down, “All your fault, I swear to God. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But it’s all your fault.”
--
1) I started writing this back during 2x12 - hey, look, surprise, it's only just now getting posted, but hey, cut me some slack, okay. I had fun writing it, but it was kind of one of those stories I just went to whenever I didn't know what to write for any other stories.
2) Complete and total... I don't even know, okay, guys. Like, I just... couldn't help it. *facepalm*
3) Because I'm an impulsive person, this was completely impulsive, so there may be some mistakes. Don't hesitate to point them out, yell, scream, and shout about how cliche and ridiculous this story is, and also, maybe tell me never to write another story again because I am a ridiculous person. Don't worry, I'll accept it. I really will.
--
Danny wakes up feeling like there’s something jackhammering inside his head and a bird died inside his mouth. His skull weighs ten thousand pounds, his muscles are sore, and - he blinks blearily - are those feathers all around the room and on the mattress? He shakes his head - and wasn’t that a mistake? - and looks around the room some more, running fingers through his hair (which is an absolute disaster, thanks, he doesn’t need a mirror to tell him that much).
He freezes then, because he doesn’t even have to do a full-body turn to notice that there’s another body on the mattress beside him, amongst all the sheets, pillows, and feathers. It’s a detectable, familiar presence, like he should know whose body it is, but he can’t quite figure it out through the haze of his hangover. He stays propped up on his elbows, breathing slowly in and out, not sure whether or not he wants to turn around and see who the body belongs to.
Tidbits of last night are stored away in his brain, but full memories don’t exist. Through the haze, he recalls the beginning of the evening, an unbreakable vow that whatever happens stays between Just Us Guys on Chin’s last night of freedom before being dragged down into wedded bliss (not Danny’s choice of words, he swears. He would have chosen words like, ‘the old ball and chain’ personally, but hey, whatever). He, Steve, Kamekona and Chin had set out for a night on the town and - and that’s all she wrote?
Danny frowns, because after that all that remains in his brain are little memories of flashing neon lights, loud music, shot glasses, slurry shouts in his ear and - at one point - Steve shouting in his ear, “Hawaii boys are pretty good, too, aren’t they?” and Danny thinking it had sounded like the sexiest thing since British accents directed towards him.
They’d gotten a hotel room, right, because - Danny doesn’t know why, but probably it has something to do with the feathers. Steve probably didn’t want feathers all through his house. He sits up straighter and notices his muscles are sore like they are when he’s been on a 72 hour sex spree (don’t, okay, Rachel and he did have some good times), and spits a feather that floated down from the ceiling out of his mouth.
Beside him, the body grunts, snorts, rolls over, and sits straight up. Danny’s eyes widen in alarm because - oh holy fuck.
It’s Steve.
Which would be alright, okay, except, he looks down and realizes just one thing:
He’s naked.
--
“Don’t even.”
“Danno -“
“Don’t even,” he says, tugging his boxers on, feathers stirring all around him. He gets them on just as the door knocks. He points an accusatory finger at Steve and narrows his eyes even though it hurts like holy hell and he needs Excedrin and coffee more than anyone could imagine. “Because I am sure,” he says loudly, pulling his t-shirt on - at least he hopes it’s his t-shirt, but it smells an awful lot like Steve, too, “That however, whatever, whenever, we got into this situation, it is your fault, Steven. Your fault.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, just waits while Danny pulls his pants on next, and the door knocks again. “I’m getting the door,” Danny says, running fingers through his hair again, “You,” he points a finger again, “Put your fucking pants on.”
Chin is on the other side of the door and he looks disgustingly energetic for a guy who is getting married in two days and just had a bachelor party where - all the evidence is pointing towards this, anyways - everyone got delightedly, somewhat worryingly trashed. Blackouts tend to be worrisome, in Danny’s book, at any rate. He’s holding three cups of coffee, though, so that makes him okay again. He’s also wearing a bemused smile, which worries Danny. “What?” Danny demands.
“Brah,” Chin shakes his head, “You were all over the floor last night.”
“What does that even mean?” Danny asks, spreading his palms wide, glaring at him as he steps inside and surveys the hotel room. Thankfully, Danny notes, Steve is dressed.
“You don’t remember?” Chin’s grin grows wider, to almost cocky proportions and if Danny didn’t think of him as such a good friend, he’d probably punch him.
“Remember what?” Danny asks, narrowing his eyes. Chin hands him his coffee and Danny takes a relieved drink, still eyeing him warily.
“The Jersey fist pump,” Chin says, grinning still, “You were very loud and insistent that everyone know how to do it.”
Danny is horrified. “I taught you something from Jersey Shore?” His jaw is dropped and sort of thinks about melting into a puddle on the floor. Chin’s eyes twinkle.
“Loudly, insistently. You kept claiming that you did it better than Pauly, Vinny, or Mike any day.”
“What - I - oh, my God,” Danny swallows, because his cover his blown. He’d sworn from Day One that show was trash and absolutely didn’t portray the Truth about New Jersey and that he’d never watch it. The truth is that no - it doesn’t portray the Truth about New Jersey (real Jersey boys are not that trashy, nor would they ever want to be spray tanned) but marathons are unavoidable on weekends he doesn’t have Gracie and Steve has to report to base for something for the Navy and he can’t mooch off him for entertainment.
“You said something about a Snooki, too,” Chin nods.
“What’s a Snooki?” Steve squints.
“Nothing,” Danny says hurriedly, swallowing his coffee down and blinking rapidly. “Let’s move on to more important details of the evening. Like, the hotel. And the feathers,” he swings a hand around the room, gesturing at the mess and Chin surveys the damage once again.
“Oh,” he says, “That. Brah, we’re not really sure about what happened to you and Steve after about two-thirty in the morning. You pulled a disappearing act after Steve tried to show us how to make that pipe bomb.”
There’s complete silence in the room for ten seconds, so much silence you can hear the lazy Sunday traffic below, the people splashing in the hotel pool, and the sound of Danny’s increasingly rapid breathing. “You - he - we - what?” Across from him, Steve looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to remember this particular moment.
Danny is getting hysterical.
“We didn’t let him blow it up,” Chin says quickly. “He wanted to show us, so we knew how good it was, but we told him it wasn’t a good idea. Kamekona said he knew a guy who we could use it on and stuff - Steve had his heart set, but you and I stopped ‘em, brah.”
Hysterical.
“Danny,” Steve frowns, “That vein popping out in your forehead can’t be good.”
“You,” Danny swallows, “Don’t even,” he points his finger, ever-present, and motions for him to sit down, “All your fault, I swear to God. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But it’s all your fault.”
--
They go to Kamekona, who tells them what Chin already told them. Steve finds a receipt in his pocket for a twenty-four hour jewelry store on the other side of the city (what the fuck, Danny didn’t even know there were twenty-four hour jewelry stores, okay.), and they decide they’ll go to HQ and check out the hotel’s security videos before they go to the store.
“You need to feed me,” Danny tells him in the car on the way.
Steve shoots him a dirty look, but pulls into the Taco Bell drive through and orders the Taco Twelve Pack, much to Danny’s delight. Danny eats eight of them, just like he’s in college with a tried and true college hangover - weed, alcohol, sex and all - and pretends not to notice Steve’s disappointed look when he’s left with only the remaining four. He slurps on his slushy from the 7-Eleven (God, he is reliving his college years), and makes his leisurely way towards the computers in HQ, slightly less hung-over and more energetic.
Steve pulls the hotel video feed up with almost as much ease as Chin would have (impressive, Danny thinks, leaning against the computer table, slurping his slushy, legs crossed, eyeing him, bored), and starts fast forwarding it, looking for the two of them. “Okay,” Steve announces, pointing at the screen, “There’s us checking in -“
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Danny interrupts dryly.
Another dirty look. “If you’d let me finish? I was going to say, you should notice your hand all over my ass,” Steve huffs, and Danny’s eyes flick up to the screen instantly and - yep, definite ass-palming going on there, Danny is drunkenly guilty. They follow the video up the elevator (ass-groping on both their parts), and down the hallway to their room, where they stop just outside the door and -
“I can’t watch this,” Danny covers his eyes, taking a drink of his slushy.
“You probably shouldn’t,” Steve whispers in an almost horrified tone.
That’s all it takes for Danny’s eyes to go back up to the screen, of course, where drunk-Steve is slamming drunk-Danny up against the wall and kissing him with full-force. Current-Steve is staring down at the floor, one hand rubbing at his face, the other clenched at his side. Danny watches for a whole minute more before their drunken selves manage to slide the key in and get the door opened, disappearing into the room, slamming the door shut.
He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, loudly, “You got me drunk and took advantage of me!” it’s almost a shriek, hysterical and echoing around the HQ office, bouncing off the walls. Steve winces and keeps his eyes on the floor, still rubbing at his face.
“I can’t even - do you even - were you even drunk, McGarrett?” Danny demands, reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand away from his irritating face, chucking a hand under his chin and pulling his face up to meet Danny’s.
“Of course I was,” Steve snaps, eyes closing off, “I don’t remember any more than you do, Danny, God.”
Danny huffs out a breath, lets go of Steve’s chin, and sighs. “Okay,” he says slowly, “Okay. But this is still all your fault.”
--
The twenty-four hour jewelry store is closed.
“What the actual fuck?” Danny blinks, speaking loudly.
Steve looks at the closed sign for a long moment, before he shrugs his shoulders and turns back towards the car. Danny stares after him. “Hey, hey, where are you going? Where do you think you’re going, huh?”
“I don’t know, Danny, maybe somewhere else to follow up some other lead, but this one is obviously a dead end,” Steve says, giving him his ‘hey, duh’ look, the one that Danny hates the most because he only receives it when he’s said something stupid which - in Danny’s opinion - should never happen.
“It’s not a dead end, it’s just a - momentarily paused end,” he says, irritated. Steve gives him a smirk and gets in the car and Danny -
Danny has no choice but to follow, as usual.
--
They sit at the conference table in HQ with all of the evidence between the two of them in the middle of the table.
“Bar receipts,” Danny says, picking up one, “Just - awesome. My rent is cheaper than this alcohol bill.”
Steve’s jaw twitches like he has something to say about Danny’s rent and (admittedly - but only in the comfort of complete silence - shitty) apartment, but the Look of Death (perfected circa 1993, thank you very much) shot in his direction by Danny shuts him up before he even gets a sound out of his mouth. “Oh, hey, look at this, we went to a gay bar,” Danny says, falsely cheery. “Why would we go to a gay bar? Kamekona got something he wants to tell us?”
Steve studies Danny for a long moment, like he can’t believe Danny just said that and finally it dawns on Danny - right, the hotel video feed - and he tries not to blush as he shrugs. “Shut up,” he mumbles, “and call Kamekona. Or Chin. Someone who is less hung-over and did not black out last night.”
Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, says, “Certainly, your majesty,” and starts dialing.
Kamekona, of course, is no help, unless you count belly-deep laughter carried over the phone helping, which, no - it isn’t, Danny thinks. Danny squints, grimaces, and looks at the phone, sighing. “What do you mean, Kamekona?” he asks, trying to keep patience and rapidly failing.
“I mean it wasn’t nobody’s idea except yours and Steve’s, brah,” Kamekona says, still laughing, obviously deeply amused that Danny and Steve thought it could be anyone but their idea.
Verging on borderline-psychotic hysterical.
“What does that even mean?” Danny demands, voice decidedly higher-pitched than one minute before. There’s a ten-second pause, Kamekona’s snuffles of laughter still emitted across the line while they wait for their answer.
“Steve and you - you wanted to… see a different side of town, you said,” Kamekona says, “So Steve, he suggests something more colorful, louder. Then we all sat thinking for a little while before you both looked at each other with these weird smiles on your faces and said a… men’s choice bar,” Kamekona coughs, trying to cover up his laughter.
Danny hits his head against the conference table. Repeatedly. He makes sure it hurts.
“Okay, okay,” Steve says slowly, “Where did we go after that, Kamekona?”
“Well,” Kamekona says, not laughing anymore, “That’s when we split. You two were trashed, so Chin put you in a cab, and I was feeling a little buzz-happy, so I decided to call my lady-friend up -she’s really nice -“
“Let’s keep your sex life out of this disaster,” Danny interrupts hurriedly.
“Anyways, that’s when we lost you, and you, apparently, did not go to Steve’s house or to a hotel right away.”
“Great,” Danny throws his hands in the air, “Great - we got a bunch of receipts, a bill higher than my fucking rent at a gay bar, hotel pillows to pay for, and a blank spot to fill in between the time Chin shoved us in a cab and the time we woke up covered in said hotel pillows’ feathers.” He scowls and resists the urge to stomp his foot.
He looks up, ready to tell Steve once again that yes, it’s all his fault, but Steve has a strange look on his face and is - is digging a hand around in his pockets.
“Babe, we already searched our pockets,” Danny says, sighing. He hangs up with Kamekona and waits for Steve to explain.
“No I know I just - too many pockets - missed one,” he mumbles, still digging, before he pulls his hand out and comes up with -
Two silver wedding-band looking type rings.
“Seriously,” Danny says faintly, “What the actual fuck?”
--
“Do deep breathing,” Steve suggests, eyeing him nervously, like he’s a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.
“Deep breathing?” Danny gasp-demands, clutching at his chest, “Steven, I think I’m having a heart attack and you’re suggesting deep breathing?”
“It always helps to calm me down,” Steve shrugs, looking pretty nonchalant for someone who find out he just might be married to a dude - hey, who knows. And Danny - Danny could deal with fucking around with Steve - has wanted to fuck around with Steve for possibly a very long time - but he’s not sure he can deal with marriage to Steve.
“It’s not marriage it’s -“
“I’ll slit your throat right where you’re sitting,” Danny threatens, “Blood will spill everywhere if you finish that fucking sentence, Steve.”
Steve looks like maybe he’s rethinking his words, so he pulls his phone out and starts looking through it while Danny continues his heart attack crisis, gasping and wheezing noisily, wishing he still had his inhaler from when he went through that wheezy phase when he was thirteen. “Do you need a paper bag, or something?” Steve asks, still tapping at his phone.
“Do I - you - slit your throat,” Danny swears, collapsing into a chair finally. “What are you even doing?”
“Looking through my recent calls?” Steve waggles his phone back in forth to show him his screen, then frowns, “I’m kind of wondering why I maybe called the Governor last night.”
“What?”
Danny starts wheezing again.
“He’s in here,” Steve shows him, “At 3:35, see?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Danny says faintly, and really, he can’t deal with this; he absolutely cannot deal with this.
“Okay, okay,” Steve says, digging through the pile of receipts on the table until he finds the jewelry one - which very helpfully doesn’t tell them what they purchased - although by now it’s pretty obvious. “The time stamped on here is 2:50.”
“Motherfucker,” Danny hisses.
“So…” Steve swallows. “What now?”
“What now?” Danny brings his head up from his chest and narrows his eyes, leaning forward. “What now is you call the Governor, find out why we called him last night at a godforsaken time, hope and pray it wasn’t why we think it is, and then you thank him and hang up. Then - then -“ Danny breaks off, swallowing, “Then we deal with things as they come, okay?”
Steve is silent for a long moment before he pries his phone out of Danny’s death-grip and nods, “Okay, Danno. Okay.”
He disappears into his office while he makes the phone call, but leaves the door open, and Danny can hear the telltale signs of Steve pacing back and forth, stiff-postured and respectful, polite, the way he always is when speaking to someone above him. “Yes, Governor Denning, I understand. No, absolutely not, Governor Denning. I - thank you, Governor,” Steve says stiffly, and then he’s walking out into the main room, hanging up the phone.
“What?” Danny asks, fingers drumming on the table nervously, watching as Steve crosses the room towards him, chewing on his lower lip. “What, what, what’d he say?”
“He…” Steve trails off and Danny narrows his eyes, jumping up.
“What - Steve, what?” He nearly shrieks, because he can’t take it anymore, needs to know what the Governor said, what the phone call last night was about.
“He wanted to give us congratulations, after last night,” Steve clears his throat, “Because we originally called to see if there was anyone who would civil-unionize us that late at night? And -“
“And what?” Danny asks faintly, starting to clutch at his chest again.
“And Governor Denning was polite enough to do it for us, because he was just getting in from a charity benefit and wasn’t tired yet,” Steve says, avoiding eye contact with Danny.
“Oh, my God.”
“So, he invited us over and did it in his front yard. It was all very neat and orderly, he even said our signatures were very clear. He um,” Steve pauses momentarily before continuing, “He put the paperwork through this morning.”
“Oh, my God,” Danny shrieks, this time, unable to think of anything else to say.
“He says he was glad we were uh - finally ready to take the next step,” Steve scratches the back of his forehead.
“Next step,” Danny grits his teeth, “Next step, where was the first step, the second step - the - any step in between?” he flings his arms wide and stares at Steve expectantly and Steve looks back at him a little desperately, sort of like a lost puppy dog and well, Danny doesn’t have a response to that, he really doesn’t. “Oh, never fucking mind,” he says, sighing heavily and heaving himself out of the chair. “Let’s just see what we can do to fix this, okay?”
“Danny,” Steve says hesitantly, and Danny snaps his head up to look at him. Jesus, when did Steve get so fucking tall? Come to think of it, when did Danny get so fucking close to Steve’s chest? He inhales sharply, forces himself to take a step back. He shakes his head of all the foggy thoughts and makes himself clear his mind, looks up at Steve, says, “What?”
“It’s Sunday,” Steve says, looking nervously down at him, offering him a smile, “We’re lucky we got a hold of the Governor, if you think about it. Face it, Danny, we’re married for a day.”
“Oh, Christ,” Danny grumbles, “Fine. But that means you’re feeding me, and I get to sleep in a decent bed tonight, at the very least,” Danny tells him, and lets Steve lead him out the door of HQ.
And it should be awkward, Danny telling him he’s going to sleep in Steve’s bed, in Steve’s house, that Steve’s going to cook for him and Danny’s going to drink his beer and take him space on his couch, but - what’s mine is yours and all that jazz, Danny thinks as he rests his head against the window of the car and drifts in and out of sleep.
--
They really did plan to fix the whole marriage thing, is the thing. The problem, of course, is that when work interferes, it just - interferes, and neither of them thinks anything of it for a week straight, falling into a pattern of work, food, and falling into Steve’s bed together at the end of a very long day together. They don’t think about it, they don’t speak about it, they just do it, and they haven’t even noticed that after putting their rings back on to try them on Sunday (“just to see whose is whose,” Steve had said, looking down at them with a strange glint in his eye), Kono is the first person to point it out.
“What’s with the rings?” she finally asks, narrowing her eyes and looking ready to grill them like she would a perp. Danny looks down at his left hand and yelps like his ring-finger is suddenly burning, then looks back up at Kono, and over at Steve, who is also staring down at his left hand. Only he looks more curious than surprised or shocked. Kono taps her foot impatiently, waiting. Chin just stands over by the tech-table, looking amused. “Well?” she says, crossing her arms.
Danny goes fish-mouthed, gaping at Steve, waiting for him to say something first. Finally Steve looks up with a kind of proud smile on his face, says, “Wild night,” and shrugs.
Danny can’t breathe, is sure his face is turning blue. He looks back and forth to all of his teammates, to the brief look of surprise on Kono’s face, before it turns to one of pride and joy, to the look of amusement and knowingness on Chin’s, to the look of fucking smugness on Steve’s - and Danny is going to choke him, he swears, just as soon as he gains the ability to move his limbs again. “I knew it!” Kono says happily, moving it to hug Danny tightly. “I just knew you guys were made for each other, oh, I’m so happy for you! Did you tell Grace yet? Did the Governor do it for you? Oh, my God, we have to throw a party for you!”
She moves across the room to hug Steve next and Danny’s still shocked, but he catches Steve’s eye and when he does, he sees something there - sees love and joy, pride and happiness, he sees stability and the fact that Steve truly doesn’t want to change this and something inside Danny burns hot. It clicks, all the sudden.
Danny doesn’t want to change it, either. They went an entire week being legally married - civilized - whatever - and Danny didn’t even realize it, because they’ve been going along just the same as they always have, except maybe with some really amazing, good, burning hot passionate sex thrown in. So when Steve looks at him again, this time with a little bit of a question in his eyes, Danny gives him the barest hint of a nod, and Steve grins, wide, blinding, bright.
They’re married.
It’s okay.
--
“So how did it happen?” Malia asks at her own wedding reception, taking a sip of champagne and offering them a congratulatory smile. Beside Danny, Grace is holding his hand tight, smiling and waiting for an answer, as well. She’d shown up to the party later, because she had dinner with Rachel and Step-Stan first, but Danny can’t complain, he’s got his family here. Grace had been beside herself with joy when Steve and Danny told her what they’d impulsively done, her only regret the fact that she hadn’t been there. Steve and Danny were kind of relieved she hadn’t been there, sharing identical looks of relief and regret over her head as she squealed about ceremonies and such things while she hugged them both.
Now, Danny says, “Oh, you know,” looking over at Steve, who is busy talking to a few of Chin’s family members. He pauses though, turns his head and offers Danny a smile before turning back to talk again, hands waving in a gesture that Danny is almost sure is his. “He just kind of… convinced me.”
And he had. Danny remembers now, most of that night, most of it coming in flashbacks throughout the weeks following, until it had suddenly all been there, pieced together like a puzzle.
“Let’s get married,” Steve whispers in his ear, kissing the spot just below it, and Danny feels electrified, every nerve aware of every little touch that Steve brushes across his skin. Danny pauses, stops breathing for a second. His heart skips a couple beats. There is music in his ears even though he’s sure they’re not in the club anymore.
“You’re insane,” Danny murmurs back, reaching up to push Steve away, but Steve holds on tight, clutching his fingers at Danny’s waist, wrapping two on each side in Danny’s belt loops and tugging him almost impossibly closer.
“ ‘m not,” Steve shakes his head, and his hair brushes across Danny’s forehead. Even that feels good, feels amazing. “Let’s get married, Danno. I love you. Forever. For good. ‘m not going anywhere, ever. Let’s get married.”
“Steve I -“ but then Steve reaches his hand up, grasps Danny’s chin and tilts his head up so he’s making eye contact with Danny. There’s something there, something clear and bright, true. Danny chews on his bottom lip for a moment, licks it, and then leans up and kisses Steve hard. “I love you too,” he says, winding his arms around Steve’s neck, and yeah - they’re really going to do this. They’re going to wake up in the morning, and they’re going to be married, and Danny’s going to rant and rave about it and Steve is going to stand there and look amused about Danny’s ranting and raving, and in the end, they’ll figure it out.
Because that’s what they do.
They’re going to get married.
“Let’s get married,” Danny says.
Rating: PG
Summary: “Danny,” Steve frowns, “That vein popping out in your forehead can’t be good.”
“You,” Danny swallows, “Don’t even,” he points his finger, ever-present, and motions for him to sit down, “All your fault, I swear to God. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But it’s all your fault.”
--
1) I started writing this back during 2x12 - hey, look, surprise, it's only just now getting posted, but hey, cut me some slack, okay. I had fun writing it, but it was kind of one of those stories I just went to whenever I didn't know what to write for any other stories.
2) Complete and total... I don't even know, okay, guys. Like, I just... couldn't help it. *facepalm*
3) Because I'm an impulsive person, this was completely impulsive, so there may be some mistakes. Don't hesitate to point them out, yell, scream, and shout about how cliche and ridiculous this story is, and also, maybe tell me never to write another story again because I am a ridiculous person. Don't worry, I'll accept it. I really will.
--
Danny wakes up feeling like there’s something jackhammering inside his head and a bird died inside his mouth. His skull weighs ten thousand pounds, his muscles are sore, and - he blinks blearily - are those feathers all around the room and on the mattress? He shakes his head - and wasn’t that a mistake? - and looks around the room some more, running fingers through his hair (which is an absolute disaster, thanks, he doesn’t need a mirror to tell him that much).
He freezes then, because he doesn’t even have to do a full-body turn to notice that there’s another body on the mattress beside him, amongst all the sheets, pillows, and feathers. It’s a detectable, familiar presence, like he should know whose body it is, but he can’t quite figure it out through the haze of his hangover. He stays propped up on his elbows, breathing slowly in and out, not sure whether or not he wants to turn around and see who the body belongs to.
Tidbits of last night are stored away in his brain, but full memories don’t exist. Through the haze, he recalls the beginning of the evening, an unbreakable vow that whatever happens stays between Just Us Guys on Chin’s last night of freedom before being dragged down into wedded bliss (not Danny’s choice of words, he swears. He would have chosen words like, ‘the old ball and chain’ personally, but hey, whatever). He, Steve, Kamekona and Chin had set out for a night on the town and - and that’s all she wrote?
Danny frowns, because after that all that remains in his brain are little memories of flashing neon lights, loud music, shot glasses, slurry shouts in his ear and - at one point - Steve shouting in his ear, “Hawaii boys are pretty good, too, aren’t they?” and Danny thinking it had sounded like the sexiest thing since British accents directed towards him.
They’d gotten a hotel room, right, because - Danny doesn’t know why, but probably it has something to do with the feathers. Steve probably didn’t want feathers all through his house. He sits up straighter and notices his muscles are sore like they are when he’s been on a 72 hour sex spree (don’t, okay, Rachel and he did have some good times), and spits a feather that floated down from the ceiling out of his mouth.
Beside him, the body grunts, snorts, rolls over, and sits straight up. Danny’s eyes widen in alarm because - oh holy fuck.
It’s Steve.
Which would be alright, okay, except, he looks down and realizes just one thing:
He’s naked.
--
“Don’t even.”
“Danno -“
“Don’t even,” he says, tugging his boxers on, feathers stirring all around him. He gets them on just as the door knocks. He points an accusatory finger at Steve and narrows his eyes even though it hurts like holy hell and he needs Excedrin and coffee more than anyone could imagine. “Because I am sure,” he says loudly, pulling his t-shirt on - at least he hopes it’s his t-shirt, but it smells an awful lot like Steve, too, “That however, whatever, whenever, we got into this situation, it is your fault, Steven. Your fault.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, just waits while Danny pulls his pants on next, and the door knocks again. “I’m getting the door,” Danny says, running fingers through his hair again, “You,” he points a finger again, “Put your fucking pants on.”
Chin is on the other side of the door and he looks disgustingly energetic for a guy who is getting married in two days and just had a bachelor party where - all the evidence is pointing towards this, anyways - everyone got delightedly, somewhat worryingly trashed. Blackouts tend to be worrisome, in Danny’s book, at any rate. He’s holding three cups of coffee, though, so that makes him okay again. He’s also wearing a bemused smile, which worries Danny. “What?” Danny demands.
“Brah,” Chin shakes his head, “You were all over the floor last night.”
“What does that even mean?” Danny asks, spreading his palms wide, glaring at him as he steps inside and surveys the hotel room. Thankfully, Danny notes, Steve is dressed.
“You don’t remember?” Chin’s grin grows wider, to almost cocky proportions and if Danny didn’t think of him as such a good friend, he’d probably punch him.
“Remember what?” Danny asks, narrowing his eyes. Chin hands him his coffee and Danny takes a relieved drink, still eyeing him warily.
“The Jersey fist pump,” Chin says, grinning still, “You were very loud and insistent that everyone know how to do it.”
Danny is horrified. “I taught you something from Jersey Shore?” His jaw is dropped and sort of thinks about melting into a puddle on the floor. Chin’s eyes twinkle.
“Loudly, insistently. You kept claiming that you did it better than Pauly, Vinny, or Mike any day.”
“What - I - oh, my God,” Danny swallows, because his cover his blown. He’d sworn from Day One that show was trash and absolutely didn’t portray the Truth about New Jersey and that he’d never watch it. The truth is that no - it doesn’t portray the Truth about New Jersey (real Jersey boys are not that trashy, nor would they ever want to be spray tanned) but marathons are unavoidable on weekends he doesn’t have Gracie and Steve has to report to base for something for the Navy and he can’t mooch off him for entertainment.
“You said something about a Snooki, too,” Chin nods.
“What’s a Snooki?” Steve squints.
“Nothing,” Danny says hurriedly, swallowing his coffee down and blinking rapidly. “Let’s move on to more important details of the evening. Like, the hotel. And the feathers,” he swings a hand around the room, gesturing at the mess and Chin surveys the damage once again.
“Oh,” he says, “That. Brah, we’re not really sure about what happened to you and Steve after about two-thirty in the morning. You pulled a disappearing act after Steve tried to show us how to make that pipe bomb.”
There’s complete silence in the room for ten seconds, so much silence you can hear the lazy Sunday traffic below, the people splashing in the hotel pool, and the sound of Danny’s increasingly rapid breathing. “You - he - we - what?” Across from him, Steve looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to remember this particular moment.
Danny is getting hysterical.
“We didn’t let him blow it up,” Chin says quickly. “He wanted to show us, so we knew how good it was, but we told him it wasn’t a good idea. Kamekona said he knew a guy who we could use it on and stuff - Steve had his heart set, but you and I stopped ‘em, brah.”
Hysterical.
“Danny,” Steve frowns, “That vein popping out in your forehead can’t be good.”
“You,” Danny swallows, “Don’t even,” he points his finger, ever-present, and motions for him to sit down, “All your fault, I swear to God. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But it’s all your fault.”
--
They go to Kamekona, who tells them what Chin already told them. Steve finds a receipt in his pocket for a twenty-four hour jewelry store on the other side of the city (what the fuck, Danny didn’t even know there were twenty-four hour jewelry stores, okay.), and they decide they’ll go to HQ and check out the hotel’s security videos before they go to the store.
“You need to feed me,” Danny tells him in the car on the way.
Steve shoots him a dirty look, but pulls into the Taco Bell drive through and orders the Taco Twelve Pack, much to Danny’s delight. Danny eats eight of them, just like he’s in college with a tried and true college hangover - weed, alcohol, sex and all - and pretends not to notice Steve’s disappointed look when he’s left with only the remaining four. He slurps on his slushy from the 7-Eleven (God, he is reliving his college years), and makes his leisurely way towards the computers in HQ, slightly less hung-over and more energetic.
Steve pulls the hotel video feed up with almost as much ease as Chin would have (impressive, Danny thinks, leaning against the computer table, slurping his slushy, legs crossed, eyeing him, bored), and starts fast forwarding it, looking for the two of them. “Okay,” Steve announces, pointing at the screen, “There’s us checking in -“
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Danny interrupts dryly.
Another dirty look. “If you’d let me finish? I was going to say, you should notice your hand all over my ass,” Steve huffs, and Danny’s eyes flick up to the screen instantly and - yep, definite ass-palming going on there, Danny is drunkenly guilty. They follow the video up the elevator (ass-groping on both their parts), and down the hallway to their room, where they stop just outside the door and -
“I can’t watch this,” Danny covers his eyes, taking a drink of his slushy.
“You probably shouldn’t,” Steve whispers in an almost horrified tone.
That’s all it takes for Danny’s eyes to go back up to the screen, of course, where drunk-Steve is slamming drunk-Danny up against the wall and kissing him with full-force. Current-Steve is staring down at the floor, one hand rubbing at his face, the other clenched at his side. Danny watches for a whole minute more before their drunken selves manage to slide the key in and get the door opened, disappearing into the room, slamming the door shut.
He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, loudly, “You got me drunk and took advantage of me!” it’s almost a shriek, hysterical and echoing around the HQ office, bouncing off the walls. Steve winces and keeps his eyes on the floor, still rubbing at his face.
“I can’t even - do you even - were you even drunk, McGarrett?” Danny demands, reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand away from his irritating face, chucking a hand under his chin and pulling his face up to meet Danny’s.
“Of course I was,” Steve snaps, eyes closing off, “I don’t remember any more than you do, Danny, God.”
Danny huffs out a breath, lets go of Steve’s chin, and sighs. “Okay,” he says slowly, “Okay. But this is still all your fault.”
--
The twenty-four hour jewelry store is closed.
“What the actual fuck?” Danny blinks, speaking loudly.
Steve looks at the closed sign for a long moment, before he shrugs his shoulders and turns back towards the car. Danny stares after him. “Hey, hey, where are you going? Where do you think you’re going, huh?”
“I don’t know, Danny, maybe somewhere else to follow up some other lead, but this one is obviously a dead end,” Steve says, giving him his ‘hey, duh’ look, the one that Danny hates the most because he only receives it when he’s said something stupid which - in Danny’s opinion - should never happen.
“It’s not a dead end, it’s just a - momentarily paused end,” he says, irritated. Steve gives him a smirk and gets in the car and Danny -
Danny has no choice but to follow, as usual.
--
They sit at the conference table in HQ with all of the evidence between the two of them in the middle of the table.
“Bar receipts,” Danny says, picking up one, “Just - awesome. My rent is cheaper than this alcohol bill.”
Steve’s jaw twitches like he has something to say about Danny’s rent and (admittedly - but only in the comfort of complete silence - shitty) apartment, but the Look of Death (perfected circa 1993, thank you very much) shot in his direction by Danny shuts him up before he even gets a sound out of his mouth. “Oh, hey, look at this, we went to a gay bar,” Danny says, falsely cheery. “Why would we go to a gay bar? Kamekona got something he wants to tell us?”
Steve studies Danny for a long moment, like he can’t believe Danny just said that and finally it dawns on Danny - right, the hotel video feed - and he tries not to blush as he shrugs. “Shut up,” he mumbles, “and call Kamekona. Or Chin. Someone who is less hung-over and did not black out last night.”
Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, says, “Certainly, your majesty,” and starts dialing.
Kamekona, of course, is no help, unless you count belly-deep laughter carried over the phone helping, which, no - it isn’t, Danny thinks. Danny squints, grimaces, and looks at the phone, sighing. “What do you mean, Kamekona?” he asks, trying to keep patience and rapidly failing.
“I mean it wasn’t nobody’s idea except yours and Steve’s, brah,” Kamekona says, still laughing, obviously deeply amused that Danny and Steve thought it could be anyone but their idea.
Verging on borderline-psychotic hysterical.
“What does that even mean?” Danny demands, voice decidedly higher-pitched than one minute before. There’s a ten-second pause, Kamekona’s snuffles of laughter still emitted across the line while they wait for their answer.
“Steve and you - you wanted to… see a different side of town, you said,” Kamekona says, “So Steve, he suggests something more colorful, louder. Then we all sat thinking for a little while before you both looked at each other with these weird smiles on your faces and said a… men’s choice bar,” Kamekona coughs, trying to cover up his laughter.
Danny hits his head against the conference table. Repeatedly. He makes sure it hurts.
“Okay, okay,” Steve says slowly, “Where did we go after that, Kamekona?”
“Well,” Kamekona says, not laughing anymore, “That’s when we split. You two were trashed, so Chin put you in a cab, and I was feeling a little buzz-happy, so I decided to call my lady-friend up -she’s really nice -“
“Let’s keep your sex life out of this disaster,” Danny interrupts hurriedly.
“Anyways, that’s when we lost you, and you, apparently, did not go to Steve’s house or to a hotel right away.”
“Great,” Danny throws his hands in the air, “Great - we got a bunch of receipts, a bill higher than my fucking rent at a gay bar, hotel pillows to pay for, and a blank spot to fill in between the time Chin shoved us in a cab and the time we woke up covered in said hotel pillows’ feathers.” He scowls and resists the urge to stomp his foot.
He looks up, ready to tell Steve once again that yes, it’s all his fault, but Steve has a strange look on his face and is - is digging a hand around in his pockets.
“Babe, we already searched our pockets,” Danny says, sighing. He hangs up with Kamekona and waits for Steve to explain.
“No I know I just - too many pockets - missed one,” he mumbles, still digging, before he pulls his hand out and comes up with -
Two silver wedding-band looking type rings.
“Seriously,” Danny says faintly, “What the actual fuck?”
--
“Do deep breathing,” Steve suggests, eyeing him nervously, like he’s a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.
“Deep breathing?” Danny gasp-demands, clutching at his chest, “Steven, I think I’m having a heart attack and you’re suggesting deep breathing?”
“It always helps to calm me down,” Steve shrugs, looking pretty nonchalant for someone who find out he just might be married to a dude - hey, who knows. And Danny - Danny could deal with fucking around with Steve - has wanted to fuck around with Steve for possibly a very long time - but he’s not sure he can deal with marriage to Steve.
“It’s not marriage it’s -“
“I’ll slit your throat right where you’re sitting,” Danny threatens, “Blood will spill everywhere if you finish that fucking sentence, Steve.”
Steve looks like maybe he’s rethinking his words, so he pulls his phone out and starts looking through it while Danny continues his heart attack crisis, gasping and wheezing noisily, wishing he still had his inhaler from when he went through that wheezy phase when he was thirteen. “Do you need a paper bag, or something?” Steve asks, still tapping at his phone.
“Do I - you - slit your throat,” Danny swears, collapsing into a chair finally. “What are you even doing?”
“Looking through my recent calls?” Steve waggles his phone back in forth to show him his screen, then frowns, “I’m kind of wondering why I maybe called the Governor last night.”
“What?”
Danny starts wheezing again.
“He’s in here,” Steve shows him, “At 3:35, see?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Danny says faintly, and really, he can’t deal with this; he absolutely cannot deal with this.
“Okay, okay,” Steve says, digging through the pile of receipts on the table until he finds the jewelry one - which very helpfully doesn’t tell them what they purchased - although by now it’s pretty obvious. “The time stamped on here is 2:50.”
“Motherfucker,” Danny hisses.
“So…” Steve swallows. “What now?”
“What now?” Danny brings his head up from his chest and narrows his eyes, leaning forward. “What now is you call the Governor, find out why we called him last night at a godforsaken time, hope and pray it wasn’t why we think it is, and then you thank him and hang up. Then - then -“ Danny breaks off, swallowing, “Then we deal with things as they come, okay?”
Steve is silent for a long moment before he pries his phone out of Danny’s death-grip and nods, “Okay, Danno. Okay.”
He disappears into his office while he makes the phone call, but leaves the door open, and Danny can hear the telltale signs of Steve pacing back and forth, stiff-postured and respectful, polite, the way he always is when speaking to someone above him. “Yes, Governor Denning, I understand. No, absolutely not, Governor Denning. I - thank you, Governor,” Steve says stiffly, and then he’s walking out into the main room, hanging up the phone.
“What?” Danny asks, fingers drumming on the table nervously, watching as Steve crosses the room towards him, chewing on his lower lip. “What, what, what’d he say?”
“He…” Steve trails off and Danny narrows his eyes, jumping up.
“What - Steve, what?” He nearly shrieks, because he can’t take it anymore, needs to know what the Governor said, what the phone call last night was about.
“He wanted to give us congratulations, after last night,” Steve clears his throat, “Because we originally called to see if there was anyone who would civil-unionize us that late at night? And -“
“And what?” Danny asks faintly, starting to clutch at his chest again.
“And Governor Denning was polite enough to do it for us, because he was just getting in from a charity benefit and wasn’t tired yet,” Steve says, avoiding eye contact with Danny.
“Oh, my God.”
“So, he invited us over and did it in his front yard. It was all very neat and orderly, he even said our signatures were very clear. He um,” Steve pauses momentarily before continuing, “He put the paperwork through this morning.”
“Oh, my God,” Danny shrieks, this time, unable to think of anything else to say.
“He says he was glad we were uh - finally ready to take the next step,” Steve scratches the back of his forehead.
“Next step,” Danny grits his teeth, “Next step, where was the first step, the second step - the - any step in between?” he flings his arms wide and stares at Steve expectantly and Steve looks back at him a little desperately, sort of like a lost puppy dog and well, Danny doesn’t have a response to that, he really doesn’t. “Oh, never fucking mind,” he says, sighing heavily and heaving himself out of the chair. “Let’s just see what we can do to fix this, okay?”
“Danny,” Steve says hesitantly, and Danny snaps his head up to look at him. Jesus, when did Steve get so fucking tall? Come to think of it, when did Danny get so fucking close to Steve’s chest? He inhales sharply, forces himself to take a step back. He shakes his head of all the foggy thoughts and makes himself clear his mind, looks up at Steve, says, “What?”
“It’s Sunday,” Steve says, looking nervously down at him, offering him a smile, “We’re lucky we got a hold of the Governor, if you think about it. Face it, Danny, we’re married for a day.”
“Oh, Christ,” Danny grumbles, “Fine. But that means you’re feeding me, and I get to sleep in a decent bed tonight, at the very least,” Danny tells him, and lets Steve lead him out the door of HQ.
And it should be awkward, Danny telling him he’s going to sleep in Steve’s bed, in Steve’s house, that Steve’s going to cook for him and Danny’s going to drink his beer and take him space on his couch, but - what’s mine is yours and all that jazz, Danny thinks as he rests his head against the window of the car and drifts in and out of sleep.
--
They really did plan to fix the whole marriage thing, is the thing. The problem, of course, is that when work interferes, it just - interferes, and neither of them thinks anything of it for a week straight, falling into a pattern of work, food, and falling into Steve’s bed together at the end of a very long day together. They don’t think about it, they don’t speak about it, they just do it, and they haven’t even noticed that after putting their rings back on to try them on Sunday (“just to see whose is whose,” Steve had said, looking down at them with a strange glint in his eye), Kono is the first person to point it out.
“What’s with the rings?” she finally asks, narrowing her eyes and looking ready to grill them like she would a perp. Danny looks down at his left hand and yelps like his ring-finger is suddenly burning, then looks back up at Kono, and over at Steve, who is also staring down at his left hand. Only he looks more curious than surprised or shocked. Kono taps her foot impatiently, waiting. Chin just stands over by the tech-table, looking amused. “Well?” she says, crossing her arms.
Danny goes fish-mouthed, gaping at Steve, waiting for him to say something first. Finally Steve looks up with a kind of proud smile on his face, says, “Wild night,” and shrugs.
Danny can’t breathe, is sure his face is turning blue. He looks back and forth to all of his teammates, to the brief look of surprise on Kono’s face, before it turns to one of pride and joy, to the look of amusement and knowingness on Chin’s, to the look of fucking smugness on Steve’s - and Danny is going to choke him, he swears, just as soon as he gains the ability to move his limbs again. “I knew it!” Kono says happily, moving it to hug Danny tightly. “I just knew you guys were made for each other, oh, I’m so happy for you! Did you tell Grace yet? Did the Governor do it for you? Oh, my God, we have to throw a party for you!”
She moves across the room to hug Steve next and Danny’s still shocked, but he catches Steve’s eye and when he does, he sees something there - sees love and joy, pride and happiness, he sees stability and the fact that Steve truly doesn’t want to change this and something inside Danny burns hot. It clicks, all the sudden.
Danny doesn’t want to change it, either. They went an entire week being legally married - civilized - whatever - and Danny didn’t even realize it, because they’ve been going along just the same as they always have, except maybe with some really amazing, good, burning hot passionate sex thrown in. So when Steve looks at him again, this time with a little bit of a question in his eyes, Danny gives him the barest hint of a nod, and Steve grins, wide, blinding, bright.
They’re married.
It’s okay.
--
“So how did it happen?” Malia asks at her own wedding reception, taking a sip of champagne and offering them a congratulatory smile. Beside Danny, Grace is holding his hand tight, smiling and waiting for an answer, as well. She’d shown up to the party later, because she had dinner with Rachel and Step-Stan first, but Danny can’t complain, he’s got his family here. Grace had been beside herself with joy when Steve and Danny told her what they’d impulsively done, her only regret the fact that she hadn’t been there. Steve and Danny were kind of relieved she hadn’t been there, sharing identical looks of relief and regret over her head as she squealed about ceremonies and such things while she hugged them both.
Now, Danny says, “Oh, you know,” looking over at Steve, who is busy talking to a few of Chin’s family members. He pauses though, turns his head and offers Danny a smile before turning back to talk again, hands waving in a gesture that Danny is almost sure is his. “He just kind of… convinced me.”
And he had. Danny remembers now, most of that night, most of it coming in flashbacks throughout the weeks following, until it had suddenly all been there, pieced together like a puzzle.
“Let’s get married,” Steve whispers in his ear, kissing the spot just below it, and Danny feels electrified, every nerve aware of every little touch that Steve brushes across his skin. Danny pauses, stops breathing for a second. His heart skips a couple beats. There is music in his ears even though he’s sure they’re not in the club anymore.
“You’re insane,” Danny murmurs back, reaching up to push Steve away, but Steve holds on tight, clutching his fingers at Danny’s waist, wrapping two on each side in Danny’s belt loops and tugging him almost impossibly closer.
“ ‘m not,” Steve shakes his head, and his hair brushes across Danny’s forehead. Even that feels good, feels amazing. “Let’s get married, Danno. I love you. Forever. For good. ‘m not going anywhere, ever. Let’s get married.”
“Steve I -“ but then Steve reaches his hand up, grasps Danny’s chin and tilts his head up so he’s making eye contact with Danny. There’s something there, something clear and bright, true. Danny chews on his bottom lip for a moment, licks it, and then leans up and kisses Steve hard. “I love you too,” he says, winding his arms around Steve’s neck, and yeah - they’re really going to do this. They’re going to wake up in the morning, and they’re going to be married, and Danny’s going to rant and rave about it and Steve is going to stand there and look amused about Danny’s ranting and raving, and in the end, they’ll figure it out.
Because that’s what they do.
They’re going to get married.
“Let’s get married,” Danny says.