H50 fic
Title: Semtex, séances and something else
Chapter 2/5
Rating: PG
Pairing: Steve/Danno
Summary: Danny talks a lot. Doesn’t mean he actually enjoys talking to dead people. Psychic AU.
Author’s note: The first part was so well received, I feel a bit bad about taking so long with this. Can’t really promise the next installment will be any quicker either. But there will be more eventually, promise!
I will be eternally grateful to springwoof for the amazing beta support. All remaining errors are my own.
Warnings/Spoilers: There are a number of lines and situations that will be familiar from season one, because originality is for losers this is an altered mashed-up AU-version of events.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit. A girl can dream, though…
Part I
“What the fuck are you doing here, McGarrett?”
The words are thrown into Steve’s face the moment Danny opens his door. There is something about Danny’s very own brand of perpetual rambling irritation that calls out to Steve; it makes him want to draw the smaller man into a hug, ruffle that crazy hair of his and just watch him sputter.
“I’ve got a job for you,” he tells Danny instead.
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have an office for this sort of thing,” Danny grumbles. “I’m not sure you are familiar with the concept; it’s where people go to work. Coincidentally, it’s also where you go to hire people to work for you. People who have office hours, as in a specific time during which it’s socially acceptable to just show up uninvited. And-here’s a hint-these are NOT my office hours!”
Steve lets himself be engulfed by the warm rush of syllables. With everything that’s going on -the thick, half-angry sarcasm, the energetically flailing hands, and the ever-changing grimaces- it’s weird that Danny should exude so much warmth. And yet, all those things that add up to uniquely Danny make Steve feel calmer and more at ease with himself than even a rigorous exercise routine can accomplish.
“Seriously, what’s it with you and the crack of dawn, Steve? Do you belong to some sort of cult? Are you allergic to your own sheets? Is it something the military did to you? You can tell me.”
Steve’s not going to tell him that he keeps turning up at Danny’s place as early as possible to catch him like this, disheveled, bleary-eyed, and still running his mouth a mile a minute. He definitively won’t admit to having a thing for Danny’s early morning voice or that he’s had wet dreams about the sight of Danny’s skewed or occasionally undone tie. Sometimes Danny even flashes a bit of collarbone. It makes Steve’s fingers itch. In all truthfulness, he’s been more than a little enamored of Cranky Morning Danny ever since he placed that first early morning call. Danny grins at him like he knows already, like he can see right through Steve’s feeble excuse.
“For all that I enjoy watching you break every single rule known to law enforcement, today I actually have something better to do,” he informs Steve, moving past him towards a rusty Ford that looks like its best days are long past. “Today, I get to drive my daughter to school, so you’ll have to find someone else to entertain you. Isn’t there some international crime syndicate you could go harass?”
“You let your daughter get into that scrap heap?” Steve asks with a skeptical glance at the car. “Is that even roadworthy?”
“Are you kidding me?” Danny asks, hitting that high pitch and spreading his hands in his trademark gesture of ‘you can not be for real’. “You seriously want to talk about road safety? Do you see the irony in that? No seriously, do you? Because I’m drowning in it, Steven, drowning. You wouldn’t recognize road safety if it jumped you and bit you on the nose. So don’t even start on my car. And just for your information, some of us are not made of money.”
The last utterance is a lot less good-humored than the rest of the rant. Danny gets particularly defensive when it comes to his financial situation. It’s probably related to his ex-wife’s new husband, but Steve hasn’t quite figured out how to ask him about that, yet. As much as yanking Danny’s chain is his favorite past time these days, he instantly regrets the cheap shot at Danny’s ride.
“I could drive you,” he offers, feeling the need to make amends. “That’s gotta be better than picking her up in that thing.”
Danny tilts his head and scrutinizes him, contemplative and uncomfortably intense. Steve can’t help but think that there is more going on here than their usual bickering, but then Danny just shrugs his shoulders and starts rattling of a list of things Steve’s not allowed to do or say in front of his daughter.
It’s not until they hit the road that Steve suddenly realizes the import of what just transpired. He’s going to meet Danny’s daughter - the center of the psychic’s life - and he’s doesn’t have a strategy planned for this. Once that realization hits him he blanks out for a second or two.
So he only catches the tail end of Danny’s monologue, “… and for the love of god try not to break the speed limit while my daughter is sitting in your car. In fact, it would be unbelievably amazing if you could pretend to be a completely sane individual for the entire duration of this trip. Here’s an idea, why don’t you and I play a little game that’s called ‘do not endanger the life of Danny’s one and only child’. Steve? Steve? Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”
Steve snaps himself out of his trance.
“I’m sorry, Danno. You’ve just succeeded in talking me into a coma.”
“Funny, Steve. Real funny. What, you had a clown for breakfast?”
It’s this easy back and forth that settles Steve’s frayed nerves. He should probably be alarmed by how much bickering in the car has become a regular feature of his life. How he only met the psychic a few weeks ago and yet can’t quite remember a time when the now-familiar tune of Danny ranting at him did not belong. But between Danny’s easy smile and his own need to experience the moment, he’s finding it hard to care.
When they arrive at Danny’s ex’s residence, Steve stays in the car and watches Danny disappear behind the huge security gate, then return with a small girl holding his hand. Grace is not like he imagined her at all. For some reason, he expected a miniature female version of Danny - wild blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and too much energy to be contained in such a small frame. Instead, she’s got warm doe eyes, brown braids, and an alert, slightly timid expression. Steve turns around to smile at her as she clambers into the backseat.
“Hello Gracie,” he says holding out his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
Her smile is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.
“Your daddy talks about you all the time,” he adds, shaking her tiny hand carefully.
“He talks about you a lot, too,” she replies, and Steve’s head snaps up to stare at Danny in pleasant surprise.
“We commiserate,” Danny tells him a little too quickly. “It’s a father-daughter-thing.”
For some reason Steve can’t seem to wipe the smile of his face. Danny quizzes his daughter about school and after-school activities, and Gracie starts wheedling her dad about surfing lessons.
“No chance, Monkey,” Danny tells her with a pained grimace. It’s obvious they’ve had this conversation before. “There are sharks out there. We don’t want to run into them, do we?”
“A guy at my school once killed a shark with a boogie board,” Gracie tells her father seriously.
“Is this something Tommy’s been telling you, monkey? What have I told you about Tommy?”
“Tommy is a pathological liar,” Gracie recites dutifully, only faltering slightly on the difficult word, “We put the closed sign on our ears when Tommy talks.”
“That’s my girl,” Danny declares, his eyes alight with fatherly pride and his broad smile all warm and gooey around the edges.
Steve’s chest feels a little too tight at the sight of him. There is so much love there, so much pure and unconcealed affection. It makes Steve yearn for something he can’t quite put a name to. He thinks of his father and the tape he found in the toolbox; the words of love and regret that the man has never spoken to his face.
“Shut up,” Danny snaps all of a sudden.
“I did not say a thing,” Steve retorts, somewhat amused.
“Not you,” Danny tells him and waves a hand at him irritably. Steve can almost feel his brow furrow in confusion.
“Daddy’s talking to a ghost,” Grace pipes in helpfully, and Steve watches Danny wince and pull a face.
He can’t tell whether it’s her matter-of-fact tone or the fact that she knows this at all that evokes her father’s reaction. Danny’s staring into the rearview mirror, eyes focused on nothing at all, muttering something about ‘stating the obvious’ and ‘inappropriate places to just be popping up in’.
“He’s gone now,” he announces after another moment.
“Was it Uncle Joe,” Gracie asks excitedly, not in the least freaked-out.
“No, monkey,” Danny says softly. “I haven’t seen Uncle Joe since I moved here. I don’t think he is ever going to leave New Jersey. And who can blame him?”
He adds the last words almost as an afterthought, and Steve doesn’t like his big stupid ‘what I wouldn’t give to be in New Jersey right now’-smile one little bit.
“Anyone with functioning eyesight?” He offers instantly.
Danny, who probably has ‘you can take the boy out of New Jersey’ written across his heart, stares at him in sheer horror.
“I know you weren’t held as a baby, but that is no excuse to utter sacrilege in front of my daughter,” he informs Steve with some pointed hand gestures and then turns in his seat to look at Grace. “Monkey? Remember what I said about Tommy? Stop signs on the ears? From now on that goes for Steve, too.”
He puts his hands over his ears to show her how it’s done, and she looks at him earnestly, absorbing every word he says with big adoring eyes. There is a hint of humor, too. She’s a smart girl.
“I was held as a baby,” Steve says, putting the petulance on thick.
It makes Gracie giggle, so he adds, “I have photos to prove it,” in the same tone.
“Photoshopped,” Danny mutters not quite under his breath and winks at Gracie in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry, you say something?” Steve asks, to another fit of giggles from the backseat, and has to bite the inside of his lips so as not to let the grin escape.
“No, nothing,” Danny replies, pretending to wave him off.
And then he grins at Steve, wide and easy. Steve feels his mouth spread into an answering grin almost involuntarily. Years, he thinks dumbfounded, years I spent in the Navy and this is where I feel I belong.
They reach Grace’s school too soon. Steve wonders whether Danny would’ve noticed him taking them the long way round. Probably. The guy doesn’t miss much.
“Danno loves you, Monkey,” Danny tells his daughter as he bends down to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head.
“Love you too, Danno,” Gracie replies before turning to Steve, smiling up at him shyly.
“Bye Uncle Steve. See you soon,” she says and hugs his knees quickly.
Steve actually freezes to the spot for a second.
“Bye Gracie,” he shouts after her belatedly.
She’s more like her father than he thought. After all, she’s got him under her spell in a single car journey, too.
“She’s amazing,” he tells Danny as they watch her disappears into a sea of light blue school uniforms.
He half-expects Danny to crack some joke about her being her father’s daughter. Instead he gets that wistful expression, the one that always leaves Steve feeling caught off guard and a little helpless.
“She’s my life,” Danny returns, faraway smile and open honesty softening his features. “Gracie’s all I’ve got left.”
Steve nods and bites his tongue. It’s unbelievably stupid, but he really, really wants to say “You’ve got me too,” to Danny.
Luckily Danny’s expression changes instantaneously.
“Not you again,” he exclaims and adds an explanatory “Ghost,” when he registers Steve’s perplexed face.
Steve leans back against the Camaro, crosses his arms, and watches Danny pace and rant and wave his hands at the air like he’s in the middle of conducting an orchestra. It’s not a bad sight at all. It should just be amusing, but he finds it oddly endearing instead.
“With that amiable attitude, I can see why you’re so popular with the ghost community,” he tells Danny once the other man settles down beside him.
“You, my friend, need to develop some actual people skills before you are allowed to judge my interactions with the dead,” Danny deadpans, pulling a face. “Please tell me the job you were talking about wasn’t about a dead wannabe gangbanger with a tedious grip on the English language.”
“Actually, a guy was killed in a drive by shooting this morning. His tattoos make him out to be a Samoan.”
“A what now?”
“The Samoans are a local gang,” Steve explains patiently. “The victim’s name is Mano Sapolu. He usually runs with his cousin Junior Satele, who has conveniently disappeared off the face of the earth. And apparently none of the witnesses are willing to talk.”
“So we need to go hunting for that Junior kid,” Danny asks, and as he leans in a little closer their shoulders are almost touching.
Steve’s face slips into a goofy smile.
“Exactly,” he affirms. “And I know just where to start.”
….
“That’s Sofia Archuleta,” Steve points out as they enter the dinner, nodding at a waitress. “She’s Junior’s girlfriend.”
Danny whistles in appreciation.
“Honestly,” he says as they sit down, “I don’t know how Junior got her. I mean, if he’s anything like Mano. All that gangster affectation? That’s gotta get old real soon. Some people make the worst relationship decisions. Not that I can’t relate to that.”
Steve wants to press for more details, he really does. He’s been kind of curious about the psychic’s ex for almost as long as he’s known the other man, but Danny has picked up a toothpick and keeps putting it in and out of his mouth as he’s talking. It’s more than a little distracting.
“Can I get you guys something?” Sofia asks as she gets to their table.
“Yeah. Junior Satele,” Steve replies immediately.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, first Junior Satele, but then I’d really like some blueberry pancakes,” Danny amends, smiling up at her winsomely. “I really love pancakes. What about you? Do you like pancakes?”
“I like pancakes,” Steve interjects, not at all happy with the way Danny casually flirts with the waitress.
“You do,” Danny asks turning back to him. “What a coincidence. As luck would have it you still owe me breakfast.”
“Well,” Steve starts and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly, while simultaneously sending his most disarming smile Danny’s way.
“Let me guess, you’ve left your wallet in the car again,” Danny sighs, rolling his eyes in mock-defeat. “God, I didn’t know you SEALs were this cheap.”
Actually Steve plans to hang onto the excuse of still owing Danny breakfast for as long as humanly possible. Since he recruited the psychic for that first case he turned up at Danny’s doorstep to ask for his assistance in three more cases, and even if Danny bitched at great length on every single one of these occasions, he has yet to say no to a case. Still, Steve’s not going to let go of his back-up strategy that easily.
“How long have you two been married?”
The quip cuts their banter short. For a second there Steve almost forgot he was here on a case. They return their attention to the waitress simultaneously. Sofia is staring back at them sort of flippantly, but Steve can tell she’s nervous.
“Look, we know you spoke to your boyfriend this morning,” he says, trying for friendly. “We really need to talk to him about Mano Sapolu.”
“Now that hit a nerve,” Danny remarks with another low whistle.
Steve thinks he may have seen her blanch slightly, but other than that he has no indication of her actually being affected by his words. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Danny.
“I’m seeing some pretty intense emotions here,” Danny explains conversationally. “Red streaks usually mean anger, but there is some purple thrown into the mix and a little bit of yellowish brown. I’m guessing disgust and strong antipathy, definitely some fear.”
He turns to Sofia, who just stares at him awestricken. “So why do you dislike Mano Sapolu so much?”
Sofia looks hesitant for a moment, and then the words spill out of her.
“He’s a bad influence,” she tells them. “He always gets Junior in trouble. Fights, theft, drugs, and god knows what else. I keep telling Junior to get away from him but he just won’t listen.”
“Mano Sapolu was shot this morning,” Steve informs her briskly and this time he doesn’t need Danny’s abilities to read her reaction. She’s shocked.
“If you know where we can find your boyfriend you’ve got to tell us,” Danny urges gently. “We need to talk to him before he does something stupid.”
Sofia looks torn.
“International Marketplace,” she offers after a moment, voice so low it’s barely audible. “They use the stores to fund their drug business.”
Steve jumps up and Danny sighs loudly.
“Can we please get those pancakes to go,” he asks mournfully like he already knows it’s a futile question.
“Come on, Danno,” Steve claps his back playfully. “We’ve gotta run.”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Danny tells his retreating back. “And quite frankly, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve that.”
“Do you realize how much of your life revolves around food?”
“Do you realize how much of your life revolves around armed conflict?” Danny shoots back kneejerk, because he always has to have a comeback. It shouldn’t make Steve as happy as it does, it really shouldn’t.
….
The first Asian guy they spot at the stalls Sofia told them about takes one look at Steve’s badge and beats a hasty retreat.
“Stay here,” Steve shouts over his shoulders and shoots Danny a glance to make sure he follows the order before sprinting after the fleeing man.
The market is a labyrinth of colorful clothes racks, cluttered stalls and sharp corners and the guy he’s pursuing keeps pushing racks and tables and people into his way to slow him down. It’s actually quite exhilarating. Steve can feel the adrenaline pumping as he gives into the thrill of the chase. Eventually he tackles the man into a makeshift Oyster Pearl Stand, landing in a sea of shards and splintered wood. Danny strolls over while Steve handcuffs the guy.
“Seriously,” he asks, while holding out a hand to help Steve up. “You had to tackle the man? You couldn’t just have, I don’t know, pulled your gun out and threatened to shoot? I’m not all that familiar with the Hawaiian interpretation of police procedure, but where I’m from it’s a tried and tested method.”
He brushes shards of glass off Steve’s chest and looks at the gash in Steve’s shirt sleeve with undisguised disapproval and an ‘I despair of you’ hand gesture heavenwards.
“You are bleeding,” he points out and Steve shrugs it off.
It’s not even a deep cut. It doesn’t matter. The stare Danny levels at him conveys disbelief better than words ever could. It’s not the first time Steve’s been on the receiving end of this particular look. He sort of assumed that looking at people like that comes naturally to Danny, being a father and all, but he’s met Gracie now and she’s adorable. She’s probably never done anything to provoke this facial expression from her dad. The half-exasperated, half-fond ‘why must you be so difficult’ look is all Steve’s, and he is so screwed.
“Where is Junior Satele?” he asks the runner, trying to ignore the sudden inexplicable spike in his heart rate.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” the guy replies.
Steve shoots Danny an inquiring look, but Danny just shrugs his shoulders.
“I can’t read him,” he says apologetically. “He’s not projecting.”
There is nothing for it but to take the guy to HQ for questioning. Steve pulls him to his feet with more force than strictly necessary and roughly pushes him in the direction of the Camaro. He is not overcompensating, not the tiniest little bit. And the way Danny shakes his head at him-almost saddened, but with a ‘boys will be boys’ twinkle in those damn blue eyes-does not make his stomach turn to mush.
The thing about taking Danny to HQ - the one reason he so strenuously avoided doing it until now - is that there is no escaping Chin and Kono here and his co-workers have taken an unholy delight in teasing him about Danny. It’s not that they don’t like Danny - if anything they like him a little too much, casting meaningful glances every time Steve suggests getting Danny involved in a case, asking about the man every chance they get, and telling Steve they should really stop flirting in front of perps. They may have even taken to calling Danny ‘his psychic’. It’s all a bit unsettling; Catherine never provoked this kind of interest from them.
Kono’s eyes light up the moment she sees him entering the office, Danny in tow. So Steve shoves the suspect into her arms and tells her to lock him into the interrogation room before she gets the chance to make a smart remark.
“I need to change my shirt,” he mutters and purposefully doesn’t meet Chin’s gaze.
“You do look like an animal,” Danny agrees, following him into his office and dropping on his couch.
Steve dons another tee and can’t help but wonder whether he’s imagining the weight of Danny’s gaze on his skin the entire time. He sort of fumbles helplessly with his shirt and when he looks up Danny is smiling back at him warmly.
“Come here,” he says with the fond impatience of a long-suffering parent, and gets up to help Steve.
Danny straightens the shirt and adjusts the collar unprompted, apparently unaware that he’s standing too close. The soft press of his fingers against Steve’s neck sends an involuntary shiver down Steve’s spine. For all Danny seems to be all excess energy, he can be astonishingly gentle. Steve tries his damnedest not to lean into the touch. Danny does that a lot actually, touching Steve. Nudging him to get his attention, patting his shoulder, resting a hand on his arm or knee, poking his chest or grazing him with his fingers as he moves past. Not that Steve’s keeping score.
Steve’s always been bad at this, awkward even. The softer nuances of human intimacy have always escaped him. The easy way some people have of expressing things like solace, or understanding, or affection in a simple touch is a huge foreign concept to him, and he always found it easiest not to get too close. He’s a master at building barriers and keeping people at bay, but Danny doesn’t see or know or care about these barriers and Steve is weirdly comfortable with him.
“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he tells Danny and pretends very hard that he’s not just fleeing his own office.
On his way back, Kono steps into his path.
“You gonna ask him out this time?” she asks with a devilish grin.
Steve nearly spews his coffee all over her. Only Chin’s calm presence and the stern glare of ‘do not upset my cousin’ keep him from telling her to mind her own damn business.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries and does not even sound convincing to himself. He can’t help staring at Danny, who is currently sprawling on Steve’s couch in a way that is positively indecent.
“He’s good for you, boss,” Kono says. “You’re a lot more relaxed since you’ve met him.”
Chin nods his agreement emphatically. Steve really has to rethink his recruitment policy. This sort of thing never happened with the SEALs. None of his subordinates would have ever dreamed of playing cupid for him. Those were the days.
“We’ve got a problem,” Danny announces, suddenly standing in the doorway of Steve’s office.
Steve prays to god that he hasn’t overheard any part of their conversation. Danny does not look amused.
“Mano’s back,” he explains, pacing back and forth. “Something is going down today. I don’t think he’s here to deliver a message to anyone in particular; I think he just wants the world to know his death won’t go unavenged. Talking to him is like pulling freaking teeth and I have no idea what he’s even trying to say half of the time. He keeps repeating something about making some kings look pale, though.”
“The Kukui Kings,” Steve asks in alarm.
“Yeah, might be. Why?”
“It’s our high school’s football team,” Chin tells him. “Steve and I used to play quarterback for them. They have a game against the Scorpions today. It’s gonna turn out quite the crowd. If the Samoans are out for revenge at the stadium, civilians could get hurt.”
“Well, shit,” Danny mumbles as Steve turns on his heel to march into the interrogation room.
“You can say that again,” Steve hears Kono agree, and then - just as he is opening the door to the interrogation room - Danny shouts, “Don’t break any bones,” after him.
That makes his work considerably easier. The guy, who is handcuffed to the single chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, looks up at him with something akin to terror in his eyes. All Steve has to do is walk towards him in a distinctly menacing manner and repeat his question about Junior’s whereabouts for him to start spilling the beans. Unfortunately he’s only a small fish in the Samoan outfit, very low on the food chain, and can’t tell Steve much, other that there is indeed some sort of outing planned at Kukui High School today and that Junior and a few other Samoan top dogs have been gearing up for it for a couple of days now.
Steve heads back out to his team to find them joking easily with Danny. The sight stirs something inside him, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It feels vaguely like the missing piece of a puzzle has just slid into place. Danny looks up at him, laughter lines still lighting up his face, and says, “I don’t see a ghost, so I’m assuming you managed not to kill the guy.”
Steve shrugs self-deprecatingly.
“Not worth it,” he offers with a grin, and adds, “You were right. Something’s about to go down at Kukui High School. We gotta get a move on.”
As soon as the words are out they all move as one, heading towards the exit. Chin’s already on the phone for HPD backup, and Steve doesn’t think twice about the way Danny simply falls into step with him.
….
“Those guys are gonna cause trouble,” Danny says pointing at a couple of Asian goons who are just making their way towards the field.
“Their auras tell you?” Steve asks and can’t quite keep the sarcasm in check.
It’s not like he really doubts Danny. In fact, he’s come to trust Danny’s instincts more than he probably should. Danny has a way of looking at people too closely that reminds Steve of Chin and Kono, of his father, and of every good cop he’s ever met. He wonders whether the whole reading auras thing is an extension of that, of just being incredibly good at reading people, but shoves that thought firmly aside. That is crazy and Steve does not believe in things that can’t be explained logically. And yet, Danny is just so solid, so right in your face, that Steve has a hard time not believing in him.
“No,” Danny says slowly, giving Steve a look that is utterly unimpressed. “The fact that they are packing told me.”
Just like that, Steve springs into action, signaling Chin and Kono to get a move on. He’s already reaching for his weapon, when the warm touch of Danny’s hand on his arm stops him short.
“Be careful, okay,” Danny says quietly, gaze earnest for once.
“What, are you worried for me?” Steve teases him lightly, despite finding it unaccountably hard to breathe all of a sudden. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“No I’m worried for me,” Danny retorts dryly, “If you get yourself killed you are totally going to haunt my ass. I can’t even begin to imagine how annoying my life would be with you floating around me 24/7.”
“But Danno,” he whines in mock-hurt. “We’d have so much fun together.”
Danny rolls his eyes at him, but his voice his uncharacteristically soft when he says, “Just stay alive, okay?”
Steve’s not used to that, to people caring. He doesn’t quite know how to react to that. So he clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and just sort of nods at Danny, before heading for the field.
Five minutes later, all hell breaks lose. One of the goons pulls a gun and then bullets are flying everywhere. They get it under control relatively quickly, but HPD backup arrives at the party fashionably late, as always. So they end up with three bodies on their hands, regardless. A couple of wounded friendlies are being treated by paramedics while HPD officers are trying to access the situation, attempt crowd control, and set up shop to start interviewing witnesses. Steve and Kono are in the middle of surveying the mess, when Danny appears by their side.
“Would it hurt you to not lead me into a hail of bullets, every once in a while? Like actually physically hurt you?” he asks conversationally.
The question is accompanied by a string of swift gesticulations. Steve very deliberately does not notice the way Danny bites his lip or rakes his hand through the wild mop of blonde hair.
“More Samoans?” Danny adds questioningly, waving his hands at the bodies.
“No,” Steve replies. “This is Junior Satale, but these two are actually Triad enforcers. This is really odd. The Samoans and the Triads are rival gangs, but they coexisted relatively peacefully for as long as I can remember. And they never brought their wars into public like this.”
“I saw Big Sid running as soon as this thing went down, brah,” Chin offers as he walks up to them, sounding out of breath and contrite. “I lost him in the parking lot.”
Steve shares a look with him and Kono, all three of them clearly thinking the same thing. It’s this ingrained almost knowledge of each other and the shared understanding of the island and its inhabitants that made Steve stay in Hawaii after his father’s death and accept the Governor’s offer to lead his own taskforce. Chin, who he’s known forever and who had been trained by his father, and Kono, who clearly wants to model herself after her cousin even if there are a hundred ways in which she and her impulsive streak don’t match up to Chin’s Buddha-like calm, give of an eerie sense of familiarity; and sometimes he almost feels like he never really left, like his dad hadn’t shipped him off to the mainland half a lifetime ago. Part of him - the part he doesn’t really acknowledge exists - wants to believe that this means he can find his way back home.
Danny shifts next to him, obviously aware that they are having some sort of unspoken conversation and not happy about being left on the outside. Steve looks at him and tries to ignore how much he wants to share this newfound idea of home with Danny. How much he wants Danny to come to see Hawaii as his home too.
“I’m a psychic, not a mind reader,” Danny mutters. “Mind clueing me into what’s going on?”
“Sid owns a pawn shop in Kahili,” Steve tells him. “He moves merchandise under the table. If he’s in business with the Samoans, he’ll know what’s going on.”
“I know what that means,” Danny groans. “We are going to have a talk with that Sid-character, aren’t we?”
Steve nods cheerfully.
“One condition, McGarrett,” Danny grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I want food. I’m not going anywhere until you feed me. Some of us aren’t military-issued robots and do need actual freaking nutrients to ensure our prolonged existence.”
Kono and Chin are quick to assure him that they have the scene under control.
“Go get your boyfriend something to eat,” Chin says mischievously, and Steve takes it all back. Chin is not family. He is evil. And Steve wants to hurt him.
Instead he finds himself back in the car with Danny, once again trying to extol the virtues of a bypass-surgery-free lifestyle to the inattentive psychic. Frankly, the things Danny does to Malasadas are obscene, and Steve silently congratulates himself on not causing a major accident on their way to Kahili.
….
“I don’t know nothing about that. I run an honest business here,” Sid tells them from the safety of the reinforced steel-cage that separates the counter from the rest of the shop.
“Well, if this is an honest business then please just open this door and we can check it out for ourselves,” Danny says brightly, with a ‘let’s settle this sensibly’-gesture.
“Not a chance,” Sid stonewalls and Danny tries rattling the doorknob unsuccessfully.
“This door is made to withstand three hundred pound meth addicts, so back off before you break a nail, sunshine,” Sid declares condescendingly.
“Huh that’s good,” Danny snorts and does a double take. “How about you open that door or I come over there and break your face.”
Steve really should not find the fact that Danny doesn’t take shit from anyone this hot, and yet the belligerent ‘I will fuck you up’ vibe from the five foot five New Jersey native is sure to trigger a spark of interest.
“You have five seconds to open the door,” Steve threatens and starts counting backwards as Sid tells him about his cousin the lawyer and knowing all about his rights.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny mutters from behind Steve’s back.
“I’ll be right back,” Steve tells Danny before turning to head out to the car.
“What? Where are you going?” Danny’s tone is half-amused, half-panicked as he turns back to Sid. “Look what you’ve done now! I don’t know what’s happening, but I tell you that guy is crazy. This is all on you.”
Sid does not seem impressed. Not even as Steve walks back into the shop, a block of Semtex in hand.
“He has explosives,” Danny informs Sid. “Why do you have explosives?”
“You're bluffing,” Sid declares confidently as Steve calmly pushes the explosive into the crack of the door and inserts the detonator.
“Oh my god,” Danny exclaims, shocked. “You are not bluffing.”
“Run,” Steve commands firmly, “run.”
To his surprise Danny actually does as he’s told, hurrying out of the store, his hands already reaching up to cover his ears. He leans against the side of the building and lowers his head. Steve instinctively positions himself in front of Danny to shield him from the blast. For a moment they are so close they are almost touching. Steve can feel the heat from Danny’s body and smell Danny’s aftershave over the lingering aroma that is just pure Danny. It would be so easy, so damn easy, to move that little bit closer and taste him too. It’s hard to think straight, adrenaline pulsating through him and the aftershock of explosives in the air.
“Get lost,” Danny grumbles irritably, and Steve grins at him.
“You seeing a ghost again?”
“No, this time I’m talking to you,” Danny stresses. “Who carries plastic explosives in his car? Seriously, who does that? You- and I mean that in the nicest possible way- are fucked in the head. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: you need help, mister. I’ve got the number of a shrink I can give you. It’s no trouble at all. I'll even pay for it.”
Steve wants oh so badly to press Danny up against the wall and kiss him senseless. He quells that urge adamantly and suddenly finds himself incredibly grateful for his military training, which allows him to turn away from Danny and snap into action. He marches back into the pawnshop, Danny hot on his heels.
“So much therapy,” Danny keeps muttering as he steps into the debris-strewn pawnshop. “You need so, so much freaking therapy.”
Sid lies in a pile of rubble and stares at Steve, wide-eyed and afraid.
“You are insane, braddah,” he declares and it looks like he’s shaking.
“Just be glad you don’t have a balcony,” Danny observes dryly, clearly pleased with that remark.
He makes his way across the safe room, picking up machine guns, muttering, “What have we here?” and shaking his head mock-disappointedly at Sid.
“Is this like a wet dream come true for you?” he asks, turning to Steve and smiling so brightly it almost hurts to look at him.
Steve bites his lips hard. It’s just possible that he will never be attracted to anyone else ever again. Danny pushes buttons Steve didn’t even know he had. You must not get distracted by insanely attractive loudmouths from New Jersey, he tells himself sternly and tries to focus his attention on Sid, who instantly flinches under the weight of his stare.
“I’m talking,” he assures Steve quickly. “I'll tell you everything I know, brah.”
Everything Sid knows turns out to be quite a bit more than Steve bargained for. Apparently, the Samoans are on the verge of a big merger with a New Jersey mobster by the name of Frank Salvo, helping him to squeeze the Triads out off their gambling operations.
“Frank Salvo,” Danny asks, looking like he just bit into a lemon.
“You know him?”
“Frank Salvo is the head of the Salvo crime family back in Jersey,” Danny tells Steve. “I’ve worked on a few cases he was involved in. His crews do it all. They’ve got prostitution, loan sharking, protection, drugs, you name it. The only thing they don’t do is illegal gambling because Atlantic City gets all the action. I bet that’s why he’s setting up shop out here. If he’s the one pulling the strings, the real war hasn’t even begun yet. He will spread like a virus and the family doesn’t like partners.”
“So we’ve got to eliminate the virus,” Steve reasons.
“He’s coming to town tomorrow,” Sid informs them, apparently a whole lot more talkative after his recent exposure to Semtex.
“Why?”
“Because the guy he was making the deal with got clipped at the football game. He wants to see the operation and sit down with the new boss of the Samoan gang to make sure everything is straight. There is a rolling casino at the Loa Ridge tomorrow night and the new boss man has to prove his worth to Salvo there.”
“We need to get on the inside, getting Salvo and new guy spelling out the partnership,” Steve tells Danny.
“I am working security detail. I could probably get a couple of locals in as staff,” Sid offers, suddenly extremely keen to be helpful. “But you two haoles? Not a chance.”
“I have just the girl for the job,” Steve says, a plan forming, and adds, “We’ll go in as whales,” with a bright smirk.
We need Danny’s people reading skills once we are inside, he reasons with himself. Taking Danny with him is a logical decision and is in no way related to Steve’s irrational desire to spend more time with the other man.
….
“Plastic explosives? Seriously?” Danny marvels as they drive up to the Loa Ridge. He’s obviously not about to let this go anytime soon. “Are there any more in the car right now? I just feel I should know if I’m likely to be blown to pieces any second.”
Steve clears his throat and smiles up at the valet innocently.
“Do you mind not discussing this right this very moment?” he asks pointedly as they move towards the house.
“They don’t raise people right on this island, is all I’m saying,” Danny replies with the usual good-natured snappishness and then winces suddenly, “Sorry, no disrespect to your old man.”
Steve is taken aback for a second. Danny does not know how to censor himself and it’s not like he minds speaking ill of the dead either. He does it all the time. And yet, apparently he does not want to stir up bad memories for Steve, which is kind of stupidly considerate and makes Steve’s heart ache a bit.
He bumps their shoulders as they walk into the makeshift casino, and feels reckless and lightheaded, because Danny is smiling at him again and he’s never felt this ridiculously at ease with another person in his life. He slaps Danny’s hand playfully as the other man reaches for a glass of champagne, even though the thought of getting him drunk does have some appeal. Danny’s semi-affronted glare is pure gold. And for a brief moment Steve allows himself to pretend that they aren’t here on an undercover gig, which is when some old guy asks Danny for a drink.
“What do I look like,” Danny explodes, feathers ruffled. “Try one of the ladies holding drinks. Yeah, good idea, right?”
Steve doesn’t even try to suppress the fond smile.
“How come I look like a waiter and you look like James Bond?” Danny complains once the guy moves off.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You look good,” Steve placates him softly.
And Danny does look good, more than good. He cleans up well. For all that Steve keeps obsessing about every glimpse of bare flesh the buttoned up psychic reveals, the tux actually works remarkably well. The tight fit highlights Danny’s muscular built and the crisp white shirt makes his blue eyes pop. Danny stands out from the crowd in that he doesn’t look as polished as everyone else; the light stubble and the unusual slicked-back hairdo contrast nicely with the sharpness of the suit. There is something about the way Danny always defies expectation that Steve finds dangerously alluring.
They join one of the card tables and their chairs are so close their legs are touching. It’s all Steve can do to flash a wide smile at the women opposite to them and not turn to gaze at the man at his side.
“Salvo’s moving in,” Chin informs him over his earpiece, and he brushes his fingers subtly along the small of Danny’s back to make him notice.
Steve gives Kono a tiny nod and she moves her cart after Salvo and the new Samoan top dog. He tracks their progress across the room out of the corner of his eyes.
“What do you think?” Danny mutters softly.
Steve thinks the way he licks his lips should be illegal.
“I think he’s got an ace,” he offers, staring at their dealer and pretending to be focused on the game, while listening to Chin and Kono giving him the blow-by-blow.
Things seem to be going well. Kono managed to plant a bug on Salvo and the guys are actually talking shop. Steve can almost anticipate this thing running it’s course smoothly, when Chin, who is following the surveillance feeds from a van down the road, announces, “Guys, I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”
Steve shifts in his seat slightly and Danny looks at him with a ‘what’s going on’ expression that he quickly covers by pressing his mouth into his knuckle.
“We’ve been made,” Chin declares after a minute or two. “I’m coming in with back-up. Meet me at the entrance to the pool.”
Steve inclines his head towards the door at the end of the room, before getting up and making his way through the crowd quickly. He doesn’t need to turn and check to know that Danny is right behind him.
“We’ve been made,” he tells him sharply, as they turn a corner and run into Chin and Kono.
“Salvo’s own security team double-checked the guest-list,” Chin explains hurriedly. “They’ve dragged Sid out back to the pool. Salvo and his goons are questioning him right now.”
Danny views the shotgun Chin is carrying suspiciously and when Chin hands Kono and Steve their weapons, his eyes widen visibly.
“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you are doing,” he asks Steve loudly.
“Going after the bad guys,” Steve tells him with exaggerated patience, while releasing the safety on his gun. “It’s kinda our job.”
“You can’t just run out there guns a blazing,” Danny blurts out; all-out aggravation and hands swirling like angry propeller blades. “You’re gonna get shot on sight. God, what is wrong with you?”
“Look, we don’t have time for this,” Steve tells him and can’t help but notice that Chin and Kono aren’t all that quick to rush to his defense. In fact they have the look of people who are enjoying themselves immensely and only regret that they haven’t thought to bring popcorn. Traitors. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“Last time you said that, people shot at me, so excuse me if I don’t find that even remotely reassuring,” Danny replies, dry as dust.
Steve may have a thing for Danny’s relentless nagging, but this is not the right moment. They need to get a move on. He stalks towards the door, projecting the ‘man on a mission’ vibe that to everyone else reads as a clear sign to back off, but of course Danny takes it as an invitation to step into his path with a hard glint in his eyes.
“You could at least use a diversion, right?” He says calmly, his voice suddenly a whole lot softer. He holds Steve’s gaze as he loosens his tie and undoes the top buttons of his shirt, willfully rumpling up the fabric as he does so.
“It doesn’t get more cliché than this. Talk about PI 101,” he jokes, grinning wickedly as he adds, “But hey, who am I to mess with the classics,” and then grabs Steve by the back of the neck and draws him into a messy kiss.
They stagger backwards. Danny leading them outside, almost tripping over his own feet, giggling in pretend-drunkenness and trying to undo Steve’s tie while still pressing his lips hotly against Steve’s. He does that thing where he runs his hands all over Steve’s chest and Steve can’t be held responsible for taking Danny’s face into both hands and trying to eat him alive. He’s faintly aware of the bad guys, and Chin and Kono getting into position, but it’s all background noise to the sheer intensity that is kissing Danny Williams.
There is a hint of teeth and the tantalizing scratch of Danny’s stubble. Steve’s hand slips under the collar of Danny’s shirt and presses against the back of his neck, trying to draw him closer. Danny’s hands are on his jaw, his cheek, his shoulders, and fucking everywhere. Somehow he tastes sweet and sharp at the same time, and Steve wants. Wants to take hold of this. Wants to take control, but he’s really into Danny not making it easy for him too. They are all over the place like they are tumbling towards a bed rather then putting on a show for some New Jersey mobsters. When Salvo and his crew become aware of them and decide to step in, Steve really feels like shooting someone.
“Hey! Whoa! We don’t want any trouble,” Danny assures them holding his hands up and playing the role of befuddled drunk guy to a T.
Chin shouts a warning and starts shooting from his hiding place. Steve takes the opportunity to upend a table and push Danny behind it, before ducking in next to him, pulling out his gun, and taking out the idiot closest to them. Chin and Kono cover him as he moves to draw fire away from Danny. They make quick work of their remaining opponents and when Salvo aims his gun in Danny’s direction Steve shoots him point blank. And that’s that.
They all move out of their hiding places carefully, weapons still drawn, and the sound of police sirens in the distance heralds the arrival of HPD.
“Book ‘em,” Steve tells his team, and moves over to Danny’s side, trying to unobtrusively detect if he is all right.
“Don’t let the Army Ranger here pressure you into doing all the paperwork, too,” Danny quips and pats Chin’s shoulder sympathetically.
“I was in the Navy, Danno,” Steve corrects automatically, wanting to sound exasperated but not quite managing, what with feeling like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders. “Anyways, someone has to drive you home.”
Danny cocks his head and grins at him warmly, but of course there isn’t a world out there where he can let Steve have the last word.
“Your sense of duty astounds me,” he declares, all mock-seriousness.
They head for the car together and the silence that settles over them is comfortable and easy. It lasts for the duration of the drive, the radio filling the space between them, and they both relax into it, winding down as the adrenaline high dissolves slowly. There is the unspoken issue of the kiss hanging over their heads, but Steve is fine with ignoring that for the time being.
Somehow they always end up here; Steve dropping Danny off after solving a case, saying, “Thanks for the help,” and never quite able to get the words “Go out with me sometime,” out of his mouth. The slight tang of regret is expected by now, and made none the easier by the taste of Danny still on his lips.
Part III
Chapter 2/5
Rating: PG
Pairing: Steve/Danno
Summary: Danny talks a lot. Doesn’t mean he actually enjoys talking to dead people. Psychic AU.
Author’s note: The first part was so well received, I feel a bit bad about taking so long with this. Can’t really promise the next installment will be any quicker either. But there will be more eventually, promise!
I will be eternally grateful to springwoof for the amazing beta support. All remaining errors are my own.
Warnings/Spoilers: There are a number of lines and situations that will be familiar from season one, because originality is for losers this is an altered mashed-up AU-version of events.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit. A girl can dream, though…
Part I
“What the fuck are you doing here, McGarrett?”
The words are thrown into Steve’s face the moment Danny opens his door. There is something about Danny’s very own brand of perpetual rambling irritation that calls out to Steve; it makes him want to draw the smaller man into a hug, ruffle that crazy hair of his and just watch him sputter.
“I’ve got a job for you,” he tells Danny instead.
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have an office for this sort of thing,” Danny grumbles. “I’m not sure you are familiar with the concept; it’s where people go to work. Coincidentally, it’s also where you go to hire people to work for you. People who have office hours, as in a specific time during which it’s socially acceptable to just show up uninvited. And-here’s a hint-these are NOT my office hours!”
Steve lets himself be engulfed by the warm rush of syllables. With everything that’s going on -the thick, half-angry sarcasm, the energetically flailing hands, and the ever-changing grimaces- it’s weird that Danny should exude so much warmth. And yet, all those things that add up to uniquely Danny make Steve feel calmer and more at ease with himself than even a rigorous exercise routine can accomplish.
“Seriously, what’s it with you and the crack of dawn, Steve? Do you belong to some sort of cult? Are you allergic to your own sheets? Is it something the military did to you? You can tell me.”
Steve’s not going to tell him that he keeps turning up at Danny’s place as early as possible to catch him like this, disheveled, bleary-eyed, and still running his mouth a mile a minute. He definitively won’t admit to having a thing for Danny’s early morning voice or that he’s had wet dreams about the sight of Danny’s skewed or occasionally undone tie. Sometimes Danny even flashes a bit of collarbone. It makes Steve’s fingers itch. In all truthfulness, he’s been more than a little enamored of Cranky Morning Danny ever since he placed that first early morning call. Danny grins at him like he knows already, like he can see right through Steve’s feeble excuse.
“For all that I enjoy watching you break every single rule known to law enforcement, today I actually have something better to do,” he informs Steve, moving past him towards a rusty Ford that looks like its best days are long past. “Today, I get to drive my daughter to school, so you’ll have to find someone else to entertain you. Isn’t there some international crime syndicate you could go harass?”
“You let your daughter get into that scrap heap?” Steve asks with a skeptical glance at the car. “Is that even roadworthy?”
“Are you kidding me?” Danny asks, hitting that high pitch and spreading his hands in his trademark gesture of ‘you can not be for real’. “You seriously want to talk about road safety? Do you see the irony in that? No seriously, do you? Because I’m drowning in it, Steven, drowning. You wouldn’t recognize road safety if it jumped you and bit you on the nose. So don’t even start on my car. And just for your information, some of us are not made of money.”
The last utterance is a lot less good-humored than the rest of the rant. Danny gets particularly defensive when it comes to his financial situation. It’s probably related to his ex-wife’s new husband, but Steve hasn’t quite figured out how to ask him about that, yet. As much as yanking Danny’s chain is his favorite past time these days, he instantly regrets the cheap shot at Danny’s ride.
“I could drive you,” he offers, feeling the need to make amends. “That’s gotta be better than picking her up in that thing.”
Danny tilts his head and scrutinizes him, contemplative and uncomfortably intense. Steve can’t help but think that there is more going on here than their usual bickering, but then Danny just shrugs his shoulders and starts rattling of a list of things Steve’s not allowed to do or say in front of his daughter.
It’s not until they hit the road that Steve suddenly realizes the import of what just transpired. He’s going to meet Danny’s daughter - the center of the psychic’s life - and he’s doesn’t have a strategy planned for this. Once that realization hits him he blanks out for a second or two.
So he only catches the tail end of Danny’s monologue, “… and for the love of god try not to break the speed limit while my daughter is sitting in your car. In fact, it would be unbelievably amazing if you could pretend to be a completely sane individual for the entire duration of this trip. Here’s an idea, why don’t you and I play a little game that’s called ‘do not endanger the life of Danny’s one and only child’. Steve? Steve? Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”
Steve snaps himself out of his trance.
“I’m sorry, Danno. You’ve just succeeded in talking me into a coma.”
“Funny, Steve. Real funny. What, you had a clown for breakfast?”
It’s this easy back and forth that settles Steve’s frayed nerves. He should probably be alarmed by how much bickering in the car has become a regular feature of his life. How he only met the psychic a few weeks ago and yet can’t quite remember a time when the now-familiar tune of Danny ranting at him did not belong. But between Danny’s easy smile and his own need to experience the moment, he’s finding it hard to care.
When they arrive at Danny’s ex’s residence, Steve stays in the car and watches Danny disappear behind the huge security gate, then return with a small girl holding his hand. Grace is not like he imagined her at all. For some reason, he expected a miniature female version of Danny - wild blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and too much energy to be contained in such a small frame. Instead, she’s got warm doe eyes, brown braids, and an alert, slightly timid expression. Steve turns around to smile at her as she clambers into the backseat.
“Hello Gracie,” he says holding out his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
Her smile is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.
“Your daddy talks about you all the time,” he adds, shaking her tiny hand carefully.
“He talks about you a lot, too,” she replies, and Steve’s head snaps up to stare at Danny in pleasant surprise.
“We commiserate,” Danny tells him a little too quickly. “It’s a father-daughter-thing.”
For some reason Steve can’t seem to wipe the smile of his face. Danny quizzes his daughter about school and after-school activities, and Gracie starts wheedling her dad about surfing lessons.
“No chance, Monkey,” Danny tells her with a pained grimace. It’s obvious they’ve had this conversation before. “There are sharks out there. We don’t want to run into them, do we?”
“A guy at my school once killed a shark with a boogie board,” Gracie tells her father seriously.
“Is this something Tommy’s been telling you, monkey? What have I told you about Tommy?”
“Tommy is a pathological liar,” Gracie recites dutifully, only faltering slightly on the difficult word, “We put the closed sign on our ears when Tommy talks.”
“That’s my girl,” Danny declares, his eyes alight with fatherly pride and his broad smile all warm and gooey around the edges.
Steve’s chest feels a little too tight at the sight of him. There is so much love there, so much pure and unconcealed affection. It makes Steve yearn for something he can’t quite put a name to. He thinks of his father and the tape he found in the toolbox; the words of love and regret that the man has never spoken to his face.
“Shut up,” Danny snaps all of a sudden.
“I did not say a thing,” Steve retorts, somewhat amused.
“Not you,” Danny tells him and waves a hand at him irritably. Steve can almost feel his brow furrow in confusion.
“Daddy’s talking to a ghost,” Grace pipes in helpfully, and Steve watches Danny wince and pull a face.
He can’t tell whether it’s her matter-of-fact tone or the fact that she knows this at all that evokes her father’s reaction. Danny’s staring into the rearview mirror, eyes focused on nothing at all, muttering something about ‘stating the obvious’ and ‘inappropriate places to just be popping up in’.
“He’s gone now,” he announces after another moment.
“Was it Uncle Joe,” Gracie asks excitedly, not in the least freaked-out.
“No, monkey,” Danny says softly. “I haven’t seen Uncle Joe since I moved here. I don’t think he is ever going to leave New Jersey. And who can blame him?”
He adds the last words almost as an afterthought, and Steve doesn’t like his big stupid ‘what I wouldn’t give to be in New Jersey right now’-smile one little bit.
“Anyone with functioning eyesight?” He offers instantly.
Danny, who probably has ‘you can take the boy out of New Jersey’ written across his heart, stares at him in sheer horror.
“I know you weren’t held as a baby, but that is no excuse to utter sacrilege in front of my daughter,” he informs Steve with some pointed hand gestures and then turns in his seat to look at Grace. “Monkey? Remember what I said about Tommy? Stop signs on the ears? From now on that goes for Steve, too.”
He puts his hands over his ears to show her how it’s done, and she looks at him earnestly, absorbing every word he says with big adoring eyes. There is a hint of humor, too. She’s a smart girl.
“I was held as a baby,” Steve says, putting the petulance on thick.
It makes Gracie giggle, so he adds, “I have photos to prove it,” in the same tone.
“Photoshopped,” Danny mutters not quite under his breath and winks at Gracie in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry, you say something?” Steve asks, to another fit of giggles from the backseat, and has to bite the inside of his lips so as not to let the grin escape.
“No, nothing,” Danny replies, pretending to wave him off.
And then he grins at Steve, wide and easy. Steve feels his mouth spread into an answering grin almost involuntarily. Years, he thinks dumbfounded, years I spent in the Navy and this is where I feel I belong.
They reach Grace’s school too soon. Steve wonders whether Danny would’ve noticed him taking them the long way round. Probably. The guy doesn’t miss much.
“Danno loves you, Monkey,” Danny tells his daughter as he bends down to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head.
“Love you too, Danno,” Gracie replies before turning to Steve, smiling up at him shyly.
“Bye Uncle Steve. See you soon,” she says and hugs his knees quickly.
Steve actually freezes to the spot for a second.
“Bye Gracie,” he shouts after her belatedly.
She’s more like her father than he thought. After all, she’s got him under her spell in a single car journey, too.
“She’s amazing,” he tells Danny as they watch her disappears into a sea of light blue school uniforms.
He half-expects Danny to crack some joke about her being her father’s daughter. Instead he gets that wistful expression, the one that always leaves Steve feeling caught off guard and a little helpless.
“She’s my life,” Danny returns, faraway smile and open honesty softening his features. “Gracie’s all I’ve got left.”
Steve nods and bites his tongue. It’s unbelievably stupid, but he really, really wants to say “You’ve got me too,” to Danny.
Luckily Danny’s expression changes instantaneously.
“Not you again,” he exclaims and adds an explanatory “Ghost,” when he registers Steve’s perplexed face.
Steve leans back against the Camaro, crosses his arms, and watches Danny pace and rant and wave his hands at the air like he’s in the middle of conducting an orchestra. It’s not a bad sight at all. It should just be amusing, but he finds it oddly endearing instead.
“With that amiable attitude, I can see why you’re so popular with the ghost community,” he tells Danny once the other man settles down beside him.
“You, my friend, need to develop some actual people skills before you are allowed to judge my interactions with the dead,” Danny deadpans, pulling a face. “Please tell me the job you were talking about wasn’t about a dead wannabe gangbanger with a tedious grip on the English language.”
“Actually, a guy was killed in a drive by shooting this morning. His tattoos make him out to be a Samoan.”
“A what now?”
“The Samoans are a local gang,” Steve explains patiently. “The victim’s name is Mano Sapolu. He usually runs with his cousin Junior Satele, who has conveniently disappeared off the face of the earth. And apparently none of the witnesses are willing to talk.”
“So we need to go hunting for that Junior kid,” Danny asks, and as he leans in a little closer their shoulders are almost touching.
Steve’s face slips into a goofy smile.
“Exactly,” he affirms. “And I know just where to start.”
….
“That’s Sofia Archuleta,” Steve points out as they enter the dinner, nodding at a waitress. “She’s Junior’s girlfriend.”
Danny whistles in appreciation.
“Honestly,” he says as they sit down, “I don’t know how Junior got her. I mean, if he’s anything like Mano. All that gangster affectation? That’s gotta get old real soon. Some people make the worst relationship decisions. Not that I can’t relate to that.”
Steve wants to press for more details, he really does. He’s been kind of curious about the psychic’s ex for almost as long as he’s known the other man, but Danny has picked up a toothpick and keeps putting it in and out of his mouth as he’s talking. It’s more than a little distracting.
“Can I get you guys something?” Sofia asks as she gets to their table.
“Yeah. Junior Satele,” Steve replies immediately.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, first Junior Satele, but then I’d really like some blueberry pancakes,” Danny amends, smiling up at her winsomely. “I really love pancakes. What about you? Do you like pancakes?”
“I like pancakes,” Steve interjects, not at all happy with the way Danny casually flirts with the waitress.
“You do,” Danny asks turning back to him. “What a coincidence. As luck would have it you still owe me breakfast.”
“Well,” Steve starts and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly, while simultaneously sending his most disarming smile Danny’s way.
“Let me guess, you’ve left your wallet in the car again,” Danny sighs, rolling his eyes in mock-defeat. “God, I didn’t know you SEALs were this cheap.”
Actually Steve plans to hang onto the excuse of still owing Danny breakfast for as long as humanly possible. Since he recruited the psychic for that first case he turned up at Danny’s doorstep to ask for his assistance in three more cases, and even if Danny bitched at great length on every single one of these occasions, he has yet to say no to a case. Still, Steve’s not going to let go of his back-up strategy that easily.
“How long have you two been married?”
The quip cuts their banter short. For a second there Steve almost forgot he was here on a case. They return their attention to the waitress simultaneously. Sofia is staring back at them sort of flippantly, but Steve can tell she’s nervous.
“Look, we know you spoke to your boyfriend this morning,” he says, trying for friendly. “We really need to talk to him about Mano Sapolu.”
“Now that hit a nerve,” Danny remarks with another low whistle.
Steve thinks he may have seen her blanch slightly, but other than that he has no indication of her actually being affected by his words. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Danny.
“I’m seeing some pretty intense emotions here,” Danny explains conversationally. “Red streaks usually mean anger, but there is some purple thrown into the mix and a little bit of yellowish brown. I’m guessing disgust and strong antipathy, definitely some fear.”
He turns to Sofia, who just stares at him awestricken. “So why do you dislike Mano Sapolu so much?”
Sofia looks hesitant for a moment, and then the words spill out of her.
“He’s a bad influence,” she tells them. “He always gets Junior in trouble. Fights, theft, drugs, and god knows what else. I keep telling Junior to get away from him but he just won’t listen.”
“Mano Sapolu was shot this morning,” Steve informs her briskly and this time he doesn’t need Danny’s abilities to read her reaction. She’s shocked.
“If you know where we can find your boyfriend you’ve got to tell us,” Danny urges gently. “We need to talk to him before he does something stupid.”
Sofia looks torn.
“International Marketplace,” she offers after a moment, voice so low it’s barely audible. “They use the stores to fund their drug business.”
Steve jumps up and Danny sighs loudly.
“Can we please get those pancakes to go,” he asks mournfully like he already knows it’s a futile question.
“Come on, Danno,” Steve claps his back playfully. “We’ve gotta run.”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Danny tells his retreating back. “And quite frankly, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve that.”
“Do you realize how much of your life revolves around food?”
“Do you realize how much of your life revolves around armed conflict?” Danny shoots back kneejerk, because he always has to have a comeback. It shouldn’t make Steve as happy as it does, it really shouldn’t.
….
The first Asian guy they spot at the stalls Sofia told them about takes one look at Steve’s badge and beats a hasty retreat.
“Stay here,” Steve shouts over his shoulders and shoots Danny a glance to make sure he follows the order before sprinting after the fleeing man.
The market is a labyrinth of colorful clothes racks, cluttered stalls and sharp corners and the guy he’s pursuing keeps pushing racks and tables and people into his way to slow him down. It’s actually quite exhilarating. Steve can feel the adrenaline pumping as he gives into the thrill of the chase. Eventually he tackles the man into a makeshift Oyster Pearl Stand, landing in a sea of shards and splintered wood. Danny strolls over while Steve handcuffs the guy.
“Seriously,” he asks, while holding out a hand to help Steve up. “You had to tackle the man? You couldn’t just have, I don’t know, pulled your gun out and threatened to shoot? I’m not all that familiar with the Hawaiian interpretation of police procedure, but where I’m from it’s a tried and tested method.”
He brushes shards of glass off Steve’s chest and looks at the gash in Steve’s shirt sleeve with undisguised disapproval and an ‘I despair of you’ hand gesture heavenwards.
“You are bleeding,” he points out and Steve shrugs it off.
It’s not even a deep cut. It doesn’t matter. The stare Danny levels at him conveys disbelief better than words ever could. It’s not the first time Steve’s been on the receiving end of this particular look. He sort of assumed that looking at people like that comes naturally to Danny, being a father and all, but he’s met Gracie now and she’s adorable. She’s probably never done anything to provoke this facial expression from her dad. The half-exasperated, half-fond ‘why must you be so difficult’ look is all Steve’s, and he is so screwed.
“Where is Junior Satele?” he asks the runner, trying to ignore the sudden inexplicable spike in his heart rate.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” the guy replies.
Steve shoots Danny an inquiring look, but Danny just shrugs his shoulders.
“I can’t read him,” he says apologetically. “He’s not projecting.”
There is nothing for it but to take the guy to HQ for questioning. Steve pulls him to his feet with more force than strictly necessary and roughly pushes him in the direction of the Camaro. He is not overcompensating, not the tiniest little bit. And the way Danny shakes his head at him-almost saddened, but with a ‘boys will be boys’ twinkle in those damn blue eyes-does not make his stomach turn to mush.
The thing about taking Danny to HQ - the one reason he so strenuously avoided doing it until now - is that there is no escaping Chin and Kono here and his co-workers have taken an unholy delight in teasing him about Danny. It’s not that they don’t like Danny - if anything they like him a little too much, casting meaningful glances every time Steve suggests getting Danny involved in a case, asking about the man every chance they get, and telling Steve they should really stop flirting in front of perps. They may have even taken to calling Danny ‘his psychic’. It’s all a bit unsettling; Catherine never provoked this kind of interest from them.
Kono’s eyes light up the moment she sees him entering the office, Danny in tow. So Steve shoves the suspect into her arms and tells her to lock him into the interrogation room before she gets the chance to make a smart remark.
“I need to change my shirt,” he mutters and purposefully doesn’t meet Chin’s gaze.
“You do look like an animal,” Danny agrees, following him into his office and dropping on his couch.
Steve dons another tee and can’t help but wonder whether he’s imagining the weight of Danny’s gaze on his skin the entire time. He sort of fumbles helplessly with his shirt and when he looks up Danny is smiling back at him warmly.
“Come here,” he says with the fond impatience of a long-suffering parent, and gets up to help Steve.
Danny straightens the shirt and adjusts the collar unprompted, apparently unaware that he’s standing too close. The soft press of his fingers against Steve’s neck sends an involuntary shiver down Steve’s spine. For all Danny seems to be all excess energy, he can be astonishingly gentle. Steve tries his damnedest not to lean into the touch. Danny does that a lot actually, touching Steve. Nudging him to get his attention, patting his shoulder, resting a hand on his arm or knee, poking his chest or grazing him with his fingers as he moves past. Not that Steve’s keeping score.
Steve’s always been bad at this, awkward even. The softer nuances of human intimacy have always escaped him. The easy way some people have of expressing things like solace, or understanding, or affection in a simple touch is a huge foreign concept to him, and he always found it easiest not to get too close. He’s a master at building barriers and keeping people at bay, but Danny doesn’t see or know or care about these barriers and Steve is weirdly comfortable with him.
“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he tells Danny and pretends very hard that he’s not just fleeing his own office.
On his way back, Kono steps into his path.
“You gonna ask him out this time?” she asks with a devilish grin.
Steve nearly spews his coffee all over her. Only Chin’s calm presence and the stern glare of ‘do not upset my cousin’ keep him from telling her to mind her own damn business.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries and does not even sound convincing to himself. He can’t help staring at Danny, who is currently sprawling on Steve’s couch in a way that is positively indecent.
“He’s good for you, boss,” Kono says. “You’re a lot more relaxed since you’ve met him.”
Chin nods his agreement emphatically. Steve really has to rethink his recruitment policy. This sort of thing never happened with the SEALs. None of his subordinates would have ever dreamed of playing cupid for him. Those were the days.
“We’ve got a problem,” Danny announces, suddenly standing in the doorway of Steve’s office.
Steve prays to god that he hasn’t overheard any part of their conversation. Danny does not look amused.
“Mano’s back,” he explains, pacing back and forth. “Something is going down today. I don’t think he’s here to deliver a message to anyone in particular; I think he just wants the world to know his death won’t go unavenged. Talking to him is like pulling freaking teeth and I have no idea what he’s even trying to say half of the time. He keeps repeating something about making some kings look pale, though.”
“The Kukui Kings,” Steve asks in alarm.
“Yeah, might be. Why?”
“It’s our high school’s football team,” Chin tells him. “Steve and I used to play quarterback for them. They have a game against the Scorpions today. It’s gonna turn out quite the crowd. If the Samoans are out for revenge at the stadium, civilians could get hurt.”
“Well, shit,” Danny mumbles as Steve turns on his heel to march into the interrogation room.
“You can say that again,” Steve hears Kono agree, and then - just as he is opening the door to the interrogation room - Danny shouts, “Don’t break any bones,” after him.
That makes his work considerably easier. The guy, who is handcuffed to the single chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, looks up at him with something akin to terror in his eyes. All Steve has to do is walk towards him in a distinctly menacing manner and repeat his question about Junior’s whereabouts for him to start spilling the beans. Unfortunately he’s only a small fish in the Samoan outfit, very low on the food chain, and can’t tell Steve much, other that there is indeed some sort of outing planned at Kukui High School today and that Junior and a few other Samoan top dogs have been gearing up for it for a couple of days now.
Steve heads back out to his team to find them joking easily with Danny. The sight stirs something inside him, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It feels vaguely like the missing piece of a puzzle has just slid into place. Danny looks up at him, laughter lines still lighting up his face, and says, “I don’t see a ghost, so I’m assuming you managed not to kill the guy.”
Steve shrugs self-deprecatingly.
“Not worth it,” he offers with a grin, and adds, “You were right. Something’s about to go down at Kukui High School. We gotta get a move on.”
As soon as the words are out they all move as one, heading towards the exit. Chin’s already on the phone for HPD backup, and Steve doesn’t think twice about the way Danny simply falls into step with him.
….
“Those guys are gonna cause trouble,” Danny says pointing at a couple of Asian goons who are just making their way towards the field.
“Their auras tell you?” Steve asks and can’t quite keep the sarcasm in check.
It’s not like he really doubts Danny. In fact, he’s come to trust Danny’s instincts more than he probably should. Danny has a way of looking at people too closely that reminds Steve of Chin and Kono, of his father, and of every good cop he’s ever met. He wonders whether the whole reading auras thing is an extension of that, of just being incredibly good at reading people, but shoves that thought firmly aside. That is crazy and Steve does not believe in things that can’t be explained logically. And yet, Danny is just so solid, so right in your face, that Steve has a hard time not believing in him.
“No,” Danny says slowly, giving Steve a look that is utterly unimpressed. “The fact that they are packing told me.”
Just like that, Steve springs into action, signaling Chin and Kono to get a move on. He’s already reaching for his weapon, when the warm touch of Danny’s hand on his arm stops him short.
“Be careful, okay,” Danny says quietly, gaze earnest for once.
“What, are you worried for me?” Steve teases him lightly, despite finding it unaccountably hard to breathe all of a sudden. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“No I’m worried for me,” Danny retorts dryly, “If you get yourself killed you are totally going to haunt my ass. I can’t even begin to imagine how annoying my life would be with you floating around me 24/7.”
“But Danno,” he whines in mock-hurt. “We’d have so much fun together.”
Danny rolls his eyes at him, but his voice his uncharacteristically soft when he says, “Just stay alive, okay?”
Steve’s not used to that, to people caring. He doesn’t quite know how to react to that. So he clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and just sort of nods at Danny, before heading for the field.
Five minutes later, all hell breaks lose. One of the goons pulls a gun and then bullets are flying everywhere. They get it under control relatively quickly, but HPD backup arrives at the party fashionably late, as always. So they end up with three bodies on their hands, regardless. A couple of wounded friendlies are being treated by paramedics while HPD officers are trying to access the situation, attempt crowd control, and set up shop to start interviewing witnesses. Steve and Kono are in the middle of surveying the mess, when Danny appears by their side.
“Would it hurt you to not lead me into a hail of bullets, every once in a while? Like actually physically hurt you?” he asks conversationally.
The question is accompanied by a string of swift gesticulations. Steve very deliberately does not notice the way Danny bites his lip or rakes his hand through the wild mop of blonde hair.
“More Samoans?” Danny adds questioningly, waving his hands at the bodies.
“No,” Steve replies. “This is Junior Satale, but these two are actually Triad enforcers. This is really odd. The Samoans and the Triads are rival gangs, but they coexisted relatively peacefully for as long as I can remember. And they never brought their wars into public like this.”
“I saw Big Sid running as soon as this thing went down, brah,” Chin offers as he walks up to them, sounding out of breath and contrite. “I lost him in the parking lot.”
Steve shares a look with him and Kono, all three of them clearly thinking the same thing. It’s this ingrained almost knowledge of each other and the shared understanding of the island and its inhabitants that made Steve stay in Hawaii after his father’s death and accept the Governor’s offer to lead his own taskforce. Chin, who he’s known forever and who had been trained by his father, and Kono, who clearly wants to model herself after her cousin even if there are a hundred ways in which she and her impulsive streak don’t match up to Chin’s Buddha-like calm, give of an eerie sense of familiarity; and sometimes he almost feels like he never really left, like his dad hadn’t shipped him off to the mainland half a lifetime ago. Part of him - the part he doesn’t really acknowledge exists - wants to believe that this means he can find his way back home.
Danny shifts next to him, obviously aware that they are having some sort of unspoken conversation and not happy about being left on the outside. Steve looks at him and tries to ignore how much he wants to share this newfound idea of home with Danny. How much he wants Danny to come to see Hawaii as his home too.
“I’m a psychic, not a mind reader,” Danny mutters. “Mind clueing me into what’s going on?”
“Sid owns a pawn shop in Kahili,” Steve tells him. “He moves merchandise under the table. If he’s in business with the Samoans, he’ll know what’s going on.”
“I know what that means,” Danny groans. “We are going to have a talk with that Sid-character, aren’t we?”
Steve nods cheerfully.
“One condition, McGarrett,” Danny grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I want food. I’m not going anywhere until you feed me. Some of us aren’t military-issued robots and do need actual freaking nutrients to ensure our prolonged existence.”
Kono and Chin are quick to assure him that they have the scene under control.
“Go get your boyfriend something to eat,” Chin says mischievously, and Steve takes it all back. Chin is not family. He is evil. And Steve wants to hurt him.
Instead he finds himself back in the car with Danny, once again trying to extol the virtues of a bypass-surgery-free lifestyle to the inattentive psychic. Frankly, the things Danny does to Malasadas are obscene, and Steve silently congratulates himself on not causing a major accident on their way to Kahili.
….
“I don’t know nothing about that. I run an honest business here,” Sid tells them from the safety of the reinforced steel-cage that separates the counter from the rest of the shop.
“Well, if this is an honest business then please just open this door and we can check it out for ourselves,” Danny says brightly, with a ‘let’s settle this sensibly’-gesture.
“Not a chance,” Sid stonewalls and Danny tries rattling the doorknob unsuccessfully.
“This door is made to withstand three hundred pound meth addicts, so back off before you break a nail, sunshine,” Sid declares condescendingly.
“Huh that’s good,” Danny snorts and does a double take. “How about you open that door or I come over there and break your face.”
Steve really should not find the fact that Danny doesn’t take shit from anyone this hot, and yet the belligerent ‘I will fuck you up’ vibe from the five foot five New Jersey native is sure to trigger a spark of interest.
“You have five seconds to open the door,” Steve threatens and starts counting backwards as Sid tells him about his cousin the lawyer and knowing all about his rights.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny mutters from behind Steve’s back.
“I’ll be right back,” Steve tells Danny before turning to head out to the car.
“What? Where are you going?” Danny’s tone is half-amused, half-panicked as he turns back to Sid. “Look what you’ve done now! I don’t know what’s happening, but I tell you that guy is crazy. This is all on you.”
Sid does not seem impressed. Not even as Steve walks back into the shop, a block of Semtex in hand.
“He has explosives,” Danny informs Sid. “Why do you have explosives?”
“You're bluffing,” Sid declares confidently as Steve calmly pushes the explosive into the crack of the door and inserts the detonator.
“Oh my god,” Danny exclaims, shocked. “You are not bluffing.”
“Run,” Steve commands firmly, “run.”
To his surprise Danny actually does as he’s told, hurrying out of the store, his hands already reaching up to cover his ears. He leans against the side of the building and lowers his head. Steve instinctively positions himself in front of Danny to shield him from the blast. For a moment they are so close they are almost touching. Steve can feel the heat from Danny’s body and smell Danny’s aftershave over the lingering aroma that is just pure Danny. It would be so easy, so damn easy, to move that little bit closer and taste him too. It’s hard to think straight, adrenaline pulsating through him and the aftershock of explosives in the air.
“Get lost,” Danny grumbles irritably, and Steve grins at him.
“You seeing a ghost again?”
“No, this time I’m talking to you,” Danny stresses. “Who carries plastic explosives in his car? Seriously, who does that? You- and I mean that in the nicest possible way- are fucked in the head. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: you need help, mister. I’ve got the number of a shrink I can give you. It’s no trouble at all. I'll even pay for it.”
Steve wants oh so badly to press Danny up against the wall and kiss him senseless. He quells that urge adamantly and suddenly finds himself incredibly grateful for his military training, which allows him to turn away from Danny and snap into action. He marches back into the pawnshop, Danny hot on his heels.
“So much therapy,” Danny keeps muttering as he steps into the debris-strewn pawnshop. “You need so, so much freaking therapy.”
Sid lies in a pile of rubble and stares at Steve, wide-eyed and afraid.
“You are insane, braddah,” he declares and it looks like he’s shaking.
“Just be glad you don’t have a balcony,” Danny observes dryly, clearly pleased with that remark.
He makes his way across the safe room, picking up machine guns, muttering, “What have we here?” and shaking his head mock-disappointedly at Sid.
“Is this like a wet dream come true for you?” he asks, turning to Steve and smiling so brightly it almost hurts to look at him.
Steve bites his lips hard. It’s just possible that he will never be attracted to anyone else ever again. Danny pushes buttons Steve didn’t even know he had. You must not get distracted by insanely attractive loudmouths from New Jersey, he tells himself sternly and tries to focus his attention on Sid, who instantly flinches under the weight of his stare.
“I’m talking,” he assures Steve quickly. “I'll tell you everything I know, brah.”
Everything Sid knows turns out to be quite a bit more than Steve bargained for. Apparently, the Samoans are on the verge of a big merger with a New Jersey mobster by the name of Frank Salvo, helping him to squeeze the Triads out off their gambling operations.
“Frank Salvo,” Danny asks, looking like he just bit into a lemon.
“You know him?”
“Frank Salvo is the head of the Salvo crime family back in Jersey,” Danny tells Steve. “I’ve worked on a few cases he was involved in. His crews do it all. They’ve got prostitution, loan sharking, protection, drugs, you name it. The only thing they don’t do is illegal gambling because Atlantic City gets all the action. I bet that’s why he’s setting up shop out here. If he’s the one pulling the strings, the real war hasn’t even begun yet. He will spread like a virus and the family doesn’t like partners.”
“So we’ve got to eliminate the virus,” Steve reasons.
“He’s coming to town tomorrow,” Sid informs them, apparently a whole lot more talkative after his recent exposure to Semtex.
“Why?”
“Because the guy he was making the deal with got clipped at the football game. He wants to see the operation and sit down with the new boss of the Samoan gang to make sure everything is straight. There is a rolling casino at the Loa Ridge tomorrow night and the new boss man has to prove his worth to Salvo there.”
“We need to get on the inside, getting Salvo and new guy spelling out the partnership,” Steve tells Danny.
“I am working security detail. I could probably get a couple of locals in as staff,” Sid offers, suddenly extremely keen to be helpful. “But you two haoles? Not a chance.”
“I have just the girl for the job,” Steve says, a plan forming, and adds, “We’ll go in as whales,” with a bright smirk.
We need Danny’s people reading skills once we are inside, he reasons with himself. Taking Danny with him is a logical decision and is in no way related to Steve’s irrational desire to spend more time with the other man.
….
“Plastic explosives? Seriously?” Danny marvels as they drive up to the Loa Ridge. He’s obviously not about to let this go anytime soon. “Are there any more in the car right now? I just feel I should know if I’m likely to be blown to pieces any second.”
Steve clears his throat and smiles up at the valet innocently.
“Do you mind not discussing this right this very moment?” he asks pointedly as they move towards the house.
“They don’t raise people right on this island, is all I’m saying,” Danny replies with the usual good-natured snappishness and then winces suddenly, “Sorry, no disrespect to your old man.”
Steve is taken aback for a second. Danny does not know how to censor himself and it’s not like he minds speaking ill of the dead either. He does it all the time. And yet, apparently he does not want to stir up bad memories for Steve, which is kind of stupidly considerate and makes Steve’s heart ache a bit.
He bumps their shoulders as they walk into the makeshift casino, and feels reckless and lightheaded, because Danny is smiling at him again and he’s never felt this ridiculously at ease with another person in his life. He slaps Danny’s hand playfully as the other man reaches for a glass of champagne, even though the thought of getting him drunk does have some appeal. Danny’s semi-affronted glare is pure gold. And for a brief moment Steve allows himself to pretend that they aren’t here on an undercover gig, which is when some old guy asks Danny for a drink.
“What do I look like,” Danny explodes, feathers ruffled. “Try one of the ladies holding drinks. Yeah, good idea, right?”
Steve doesn’t even try to suppress the fond smile.
“How come I look like a waiter and you look like James Bond?” Danny complains once the guy moves off.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You look good,” Steve placates him softly.
And Danny does look good, more than good. He cleans up well. For all that Steve keeps obsessing about every glimpse of bare flesh the buttoned up psychic reveals, the tux actually works remarkably well. The tight fit highlights Danny’s muscular built and the crisp white shirt makes his blue eyes pop. Danny stands out from the crowd in that he doesn’t look as polished as everyone else; the light stubble and the unusual slicked-back hairdo contrast nicely with the sharpness of the suit. There is something about the way Danny always defies expectation that Steve finds dangerously alluring.
They join one of the card tables and their chairs are so close their legs are touching. It’s all Steve can do to flash a wide smile at the women opposite to them and not turn to gaze at the man at his side.
“Salvo’s moving in,” Chin informs him over his earpiece, and he brushes his fingers subtly along the small of Danny’s back to make him notice.
Steve gives Kono a tiny nod and she moves her cart after Salvo and the new Samoan top dog. He tracks their progress across the room out of the corner of his eyes.
“What do you think?” Danny mutters softly.
Steve thinks the way he licks his lips should be illegal.
“I think he’s got an ace,” he offers, staring at their dealer and pretending to be focused on the game, while listening to Chin and Kono giving him the blow-by-blow.
Things seem to be going well. Kono managed to plant a bug on Salvo and the guys are actually talking shop. Steve can almost anticipate this thing running it’s course smoothly, when Chin, who is following the surveillance feeds from a van down the road, announces, “Guys, I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”
Steve shifts in his seat slightly and Danny looks at him with a ‘what’s going on’ expression that he quickly covers by pressing his mouth into his knuckle.
“We’ve been made,” Chin declares after a minute or two. “I’m coming in with back-up. Meet me at the entrance to the pool.”
Steve inclines his head towards the door at the end of the room, before getting up and making his way through the crowd quickly. He doesn’t need to turn and check to know that Danny is right behind him.
“We’ve been made,” he tells him sharply, as they turn a corner and run into Chin and Kono.
“Salvo’s own security team double-checked the guest-list,” Chin explains hurriedly. “They’ve dragged Sid out back to the pool. Salvo and his goons are questioning him right now.”
Danny views the shotgun Chin is carrying suspiciously and when Chin hands Kono and Steve their weapons, his eyes widen visibly.
“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you are doing,” he asks Steve loudly.
“Going after the bad guys,” Steve tells him with exaggerated patience, while releasing the safety on his gun. “It’s kinda our job.”
“You can’t just run out there guns a blazing,” Danny blurts out; all-out aggravation and hands swirling like angry propeller blades. “You’re gonna get shot on sight. God, what is wrong with you?”
“Look, we don’t have time for this,” Steve tells him and can’t help but notice that Chin and Kono aren’t all that quick to rush to his defense. In fact they have the look of people who are enjoying themselves immensely and only regret that they haven’t thought to bring popcorn. Traitors. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“Last time you said that, people shot at me, so excuse me if I don’t find that even remotely reassuring,” Danny replies, dry as dust.
Steve may have a thing for Danny’s relentless nagging, but this is not the right moment. They need to get a move on. He stalks towards the door, projecting the ‘man on a mission’ vibe that to everyone else reads as a clear sign to back off, but of course Danny takes it as an invitation to step into his path with a hard glint in his eyes.
“You could at least use a diversion, right?” He says calmly, his voice suddenly a whole lot softer. He holds Steve’s gaze as he loosens his tie and undoes the top buttons of his shirt, willfully rumpling up the fabric as he does so.
“It doesn’t get more cliché than this. Talk about PI 101,” he jokes, grinning wickedly as he adds, “But hey, who am I to mess with the classics,” and then grabs Steve by the back of the neck and draws him into a messy kiss.
They stagger backwards. Danny leading them outside, almost tripping over his own feet, giggling in pretend-drunkenness and trying to undo Steve’s tie while still pressing his lips hotly against Steve’s. He does that thing where he runs his hands all over Steve’s chest and Steve can’t be held responsible for taking Danny’s face into both hands and trying to eat him alive. He’s faintly aware of the bad guys, and Chin and Kono getting into position, but it’s all background noise to the sheer intensity that is kissing Danny Williams.
There is a hint of teeth and the tantalizing scratch of Danny’s stubble. Steve’s hand slips under the collar of Danny’s shirt and presses against the back of his neck, trying to draw him closer. Danny’s hands are on his jaw, his cheek, his shoulders, and fucking everywhere. Somehow he tastes sweet and sharp at the same time, and Steve wants. Wants to take hold of this. Wants to take control, but he’s really into Danny not making it easy for him too. They are all over the place like they are tumbling towards a bed rather then putting on a show for some New Jersey mobsters. When Salvo and his crew become aware of them and decide to step in, Steve really feels like shooting someone.
“Hey! Whoa! We don’t want any trouble,” Danny assures them holding his hands up and playing the role of befuddled drunk guy to a T.
Chin shouts a warning and starts shooting from his hiding place. Steve takes the opportunity to upend a table and push Danny behind it, before ducking in next to him, pulling out his gun, and taking out the idiot closest to them. Chin and Kono cover him as he moves to draw fire away from Danny. They make quick work of their remaining opponents and when Salvo aims his gun in Danny’s direction Steve shoots him point blank. And that’s that.
They all move out of their hiding places carefully, weapons still drawn, and the sound of police sirens in the distance heralds the arrival of HPD.
“Book ‘em,” Steve tells his team, and moves over to Danny’s side, trying to unobtrusively detect if he is all right.
“Don’t let the Army Ranger here pressure you into doing all the paperwork, too,” Danny quips and pats Chin’s shoulder sympathetically.
“I was in the Navy, Danno,” Steve corrects automatically, wanting to sound exasperated but not quite managing, what with feeling like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders. “Anyways, someone has to drive you home.”
Danny cocks his head and grins at him warmly, but of course there isn’t a world out there where he can let Steve have the last word.
“Your sense of duty astounds me,” he declares, all mock-seriousness.
They head for the car together and the silence that settles over them is comfortable and easy. It lasts for the duration of the drive, the radio filling the space between them, and they both relax into it, winding down as the adrenaline high dissolves slowly. There is the unspoken issue of the kiss hanging over their heads, but Steve is fine with ignoring that for the time being.
Somehow they always end up here; Steve dropping Danny off after solving a case, saying, “Thanks for the help,” and never quite able to get the words “Go out with me sometime,” out of his mouth. The slight tang of regret is expected by now, and made none the easier by the taste of Danny still on his lips.
Part III