Perfect Timing
Title: Perfect Timing
Author: mneme2434
Characters/Pairings: Danny, Steve…mentions of Grace and Danny’s parents
Word Count: 500
Prompt: Nightmare
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Warnings:
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Steve has perfect timing
Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: This fic is…probably so not about what you think it might be about. Enjoy.
It was a nightmare. That’s all there was to it. His stove was smoking, the pots were literally bubbling over, his apartment was trashed and his card table had just collapsed after he had set it with his good, or rather only, plates. Danny stared at his apartment, his hands clenched into fists. He was due to pick up Grace in an hour, his parents were due to arrive right after and everything had fallen apart in seconds.
With a sigh, he flipped off the stove and went to open the windows. He went around cleaning up the broken plate shards and tossing them in the trash. Once he had that done, and the apartment looking vaguely clean, he went to the drawer that held his take out menu’s and started calling to see which ones were actually open that day.
It didn’t take long to call. Only two places answered their phone and Danny kind of hoped that his parents liked Indian, because he didn’t have any Chinese menus and he wasn’t driving around Honolulu looking for a decent Chinese restaurant.
He grabbed his keys and opened the door, only to stop short at the sight of Steve standing there, fist raised to knock, “Steve?”
“Yeah, ah, my plans fell through and I tried calling but…” Steve trailed off as he easily looked over Danny’s head, “Why is your apartment all smoky?”
“You tried…Shit my phone,” Danny turned and practically ran to his bedroom. His phone was there all right and plugged in even. Frowning, he reached down and picked up the cord. Running his fingers along it, he found a few spots frayed. He sighed, “Damn Mister Hoppy.”
“What happened to the turkey?” Steve called from the kitchen.
“What does it look like? I burnt it. I’m not used to this stove, okay?” He walked out of the bedroom in time to see Steve raise his arms in surrender. He sighed again, “Look, my apartment up in Jersey, not to mention the stoves I learned to cook on, were all gas. This electric…thing,” He waved his hands at the stove, “is a monstrosity of a stove that is apparently out to get me.”
Steve stared at him for a minute before shaking his head, “How much time do we have?”
“We?”
“Yes we,” Steve said, “If we hurry, I know where we can get a fresh bird. That is, non-frozen. This way it’ll be ready in a couple of hours.”
“I was just going to get take out.”
Steve blanched, “Take out? This is Thanksgiving, Danno. You need a bird.”
Danny’s eyebrows shot up, “While I admit that the meal is a very tempting part of the holiday, Thanksgiving is about family and togetherness.”
Steve was silent for a moment, “How many years did someone take to drum that in your head?”
“Five, which is the exact amount of time I was married to Rachel, who can’t cook worth the shit. You’re right. Let’s go get that bird.”