![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Dinner and a Movie, H50, Danny/Steve, PG
Title: Dinner and A Movie (Four Times Nobody Noticed It Was a Date, and One Time There Wasn’t Any Doubt, 1/5)
Fandom: Hawaii Five-O
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes/Warnings: Yeah, I don't even know. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raynedanser for the extra pair of eyes.
Danny doesn't know how it happened exactly, but somehow his crappy studio has turned into the place they all end up when they need to decompress after a case. Five-0 Time, they call it. He doesn't mind--it makes it so he keeps actual food in the fridge, and closes up the bed occasionally, and even if the decompressing part is sometimes code for drinking themselves unconscious, it at least means that nobody's alone while they do it.
Tonight's different, though. Less drinking, more long stares, and nobody with much to say. The bad ones are like that sometimes, but the real weirdness is that McGarrett isn't with them, thanks to the very public, very messy, and very entwined-with-HPD end to the case. For all the aggravation the guy causes Danny, and for all that Danny is damn happy to not be the one who has to finesse the higher-ups--and in this case, there's not just the governor, but a US Senator on the line--Five-0 Time isn't right without him.
"Food?" Danny asks, pulling out the drawer where he keeps the to-go menus, but Chin just shakes his head, and Kono bolts for the bathroom. Danny doesn't blame her; he regrets even suggesting it after a day spent going over coroner's reports and matching body parts to names.
"Sorry," he mutters to Chin. "Wasn't thinking."
"'sokay, brah," Chin answers. "Been a long day."
The door to the bathroom might as well be paper for all the privacy it gives; Danny winces as Kono retches again and again. She has to be into dry heaves by now. He and Chin look at each other for a long minute before Chin nods once and stands.
"Be right back," he says, ducking out the door and angling across the little strip of grass toward the intersection on the corner, disappearing into the darkness. Danny goes and gets a glass of water, digs through the little trunk where he keeps all his travel stuff until he finds a toothbrush that's new and still in the wrapper. It's pink and flowery, with a little hippo on the end of the handle, but he can get another one for Grace.
Kono smiles at him when he hands it to her, and while it's not even close to her usual brilliant standard, it's real and that's about all Danny needs. She disappears back into the bathroom for long enough that Danny calls through the door that most people stop when all the bristles are gone.
She sticks one hand out the door to flip him off, but doesn't otherwise hurt him when she finishes up, just gives him a hug and looks around for Chin. Before Danny can say anything, Chin's back, juggling the door and three little paper cones of shave ice.
"Oh, cuz," Kono says, and her smile is almost normal. "Lychee-green tea?"
"You know it," Chin says, holding one cone out to her and handing another one to Danny. "Went with the basics for you," he says, shrugging. Danny takes an experimental bite and it's fine; cherry, he thinks, though that's based as much on the red color as anything. It's good stuff, though, sweet and light, the cold settling his stomach. Kono curls up in the one chair, while Chin sits back at the table that serves mostly as a desk. Danny sits on the couch and watches the headlights go by out on the street, purposefully not thinking about anything. It's his go-to technique to get the shit out of his head after a case, at least enough that he can get through a night without dreams. When he comes back to himself, both Chin and Kono are asleep; Chin with his head down on the table, Kono curled even tighter into herself, her head pillowed on her hand.
Danny moves quietly through the apartment, trashing the sticky paper cones and corralling all the paperwork into semi-neat stacks that they can work on later. He thinks about a shower, but ends up just brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face, and then nearly has a stroke when he comes out of the bathroom and almost trips over McGarrett, standing and watching Kono and Chin.
"Did you ever hear of knocking?" Danny demands, and the only reason he's not yelling is because he doesn't want to wake anyone up, nothing to do with the dark circles that are all but etched in Steve's face.
"I saw them through the window," Steve answers, just as quietly. "Didn't want to wake them."
"A light tap is still considered polite," Danny mutters. "Or a 'hey, Danny,' when you get inside. Even just a--"
"Got it," Steve says. "Knock next time."
Danny looks up with something close to alarm, because that was way too easy. Steve not meeting his eyes is another mark in the Not Right column, but before he can start prying whatever it is out of the stubborn bastard, Kono wakes up.
"Hey, boss," she says, sitting up and stretching.
"Hey, yourself," Steve says, with a pretty credible attempt at normality. Danny can see right through it of course, but Kono's still half-asleep, so he doesn't think she notices anything. "You did good today."
"Thanks," Kono says, stretching and standing up. "Lost my dinner here, though."
"Happens to everyone," Steve says, and Danny nods, because that's nothing but the truth, and there's no reason for Kono to feel bad about it. "I don't want to see you tomorrow. Grab your board and hit Ala Moana; show them how it's done." He nods to Chin, who's awake now, as well. "Goes for you, too."
"Sure thing, Steve," Chin says, and Danny's pretty sure Chin's not buying the super-cool act, but Chin Ho and Steve--they've got some weird thing going, what with the old man and who he'd been to the both of them. Danny figures they'll work it out, but it's not gonna be tonight.
"Come on, cuz," Kono says. "I'll give you a ride home so you don't kill yourself on the bike." Chin and Steve do some complicated fist bump thing--Danny figures it's some kind of former-quarterback secret handshake or something--and Kono follows him out the door, shooting Danny a look that tells him in no uncertain terms that not only did she notice the crap face Steve was putting on things, but that Danny was on notice to deal with it.
Danny's not going to argue with the woman; he's seen her roundhouse kick.
"I should probably go, too," Steve says. "I didn't realize it was so late--"
"What's in the bag?" Danny interrupts, pointing to the white paper bag Steve's been holding the whole time. Steve tosses it to him; Danny digs in to find--predictably--malasadas, still warm from the fryer. "I thought you didn't like these things."
"I didn't say I didn't like them, I said I didn't eat them," Steve says. "Figured I shouldn't show up empty-handed."
"Steve McGarrett, thoughtful guest. Who knew?" Danny says, dropping the bag on the table and opening the cupboard over the tiny sink. "The least I can do is reciprocate." He finds his bottle of good Scotch and a couple of glasses that are reasonably clean and adds them to the stash.
"It's a party," Steve says, pouring a couple of fingers into each glass.
"Really?" Danny snorts. "That's what you call a party on the island?"
Steve gives him one of those twitchy eyebrow things but goes back and pours more before he hands one glass to Danny and starts in on the other. He gets one swallow and his eyebrows stop with the glower and go up in a sort of surprised appreciation. Danny settles back on the couch and enjoys the moment. It really is the good stuff.
"So what's the good word from Washington Place and our esteemed governor?"
"She's grateful for our assistance," Steve says, tossing back the rest of what's in his glass. Danny shakes his head--30-year-old, single malt Scotch deserves so much better. Steve starts to pace, four quick steps across the apartment, four back the other way. "She appreciates our hard work."
"Sit down before your Size Elevens wear a path on my floor." Danny's expecting Steve to take the chair, but shifts over willingly enough when he drops down on the couch with him, especially since the Scotch and the donut-things come along for the ride. He motions impatiently and Steve adds a little more to their glasses. Danny takes another belt and swallows hard, lets the smoky burn slide down the back of his throat. "They never get it," he says after a while. "They think they do; they look at the photos, read the forensic reports, but…"
"Yeah," Steve says, and it gets quiet, but comfortable, possibly for the first time since they've met. Steve sips thoughtfully; as soon as he finishes, Danny knows he'll be gone. He thinks about that house, the one Steve grew up in, the one with Jack McGarrett's blood still a faint stain on the floor, the one Steve won't leave. He has his reasons, Danny knows, but tonight's not a good night for ghosts.
Before Steve can gather himself to go, Danny flips on the TV. Somebody must be watching out for him, because the first thing he sees is The Sting, reason enough to stay.
"Dinner?" Danny tilts the bag of malasadas in Steve's direction. "I know you wouldn't be bringing me anything but the best."
Steve looks at the bag for a couple of seconds, which is more indecision than Danny's ever seen from him.
"C'mon, you can swim an extra mile tomorrow," Danny says. "Or does that bit about not needing to see anyone not extend to you?"
"What the hell," Steve says, digging into the bag.
"Jesus," Danny says, when he comes back out with a giant handful. "Leave some for your partner, yeah?"
Shut up," Steve says, pushing the bag back at Danny and putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Newman's about to start the con."
"Yes, dear," Danny says, settling back for the night.
***
***
Continued in Late Lunch
Fandom: Hawaii Five-O
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes/Warnings: Yeah, I don't even know. Thanks to
raynedanser for the extra pair of eyes.Danny doesn't know how it happened exactly, but somehow his crappy studio has turned into the place they all end up when they need to decompress after a case. Five-0 Time, they call it. He doesn't mind--it makes it so he keeps actual food in the fridge, and closes up the bed occasionally, and even if the decompressing part is sometimes code for drinking themselves unconscious, it at least means that nobody's alone while they do it.
Tonight's different, though. Less drinking, more long stares, and nobody with much to say. The bad ones are like that sometimes, but the real weirdness is that McGarrett isn't with them, thanks to the very public, very messy, and very entwined-with-HPD end to the case. For all the aggravation the guy causes Danny, and for all that Danny is damn happy to not be the one who has to finesse the higher-ups--and in this case, there's not just the governor, but a US Senator on the line--Five-0 Time isn't right without him.
"Food?" Danny asks, pulling out the drawer where he keeps the to-go menus, but Chin just shakes his head, and Kono bolts for the bathroom. Danny doesn't blame her; he regrets even suggesting it after a day spent going over coroner's reports and matching body parts to names.
"Sorry," he mutters to Chin. "Wasn't thinking."
"'sokay, brah," Chin answers. "Been a long day."
The door to the bathroom might as well be paper for all the privacy it gives; Danny winces as Kono retches again and again. She has to be into dry heaves by now. He and Chin look at each other for a long minute before Chin nods once and stands.
"Be right back," he says, ducking out the door and angling across the little strip of grass toward the intersection on the corner, disappearing into the darkness. Danny goes and gets a glass of water, digs through the little trunk where he keeps all his travel stuff until he finds a toothbrush that's new and still in the wrapper. It's pink and flowery, with a little hippo on the end of the handle, but he can get another one for Grace.
Kono smiles at him when he hands it to her, and while it's not even close to her usual brilliant standard, it's real and that's about all Danny needs. She disappears back into the bathroom for long enough that Danny calls through the door that most people stop when all the bristles are gone.
She sticks one hand out the door to flip him off, but doesn't otherwise hurt him when she finishes up, just gives him a hug and looks around for Chin. Before Danny can say anything, Chin's back, juggling the door and three little paper cones of shave ice.
"Oh, cuz," Kono says, and her smile is almost normal. "Lychee-green tea?"
"You know it," Chin says, holding one cone out to her and handing another one to Danny. "Went with the basics for you," he says, shrugging. Danny takes an experimental bite and it's fine; cherry, he thinks, though that's based as much on the red color as anything. It's good stuff, though, sweet and light, the cold settling his stomach. Kono curls up in the one chair, while Chin sits back at the table that serves mostly as a desk. Danny sits on the couch and watches the headlights go by out on the street, purposefully not thinking about anything. It's his go-to technique to get the shit out of his head after a case, at least enough that he can get through a night without dreams. When he comes back to himself, both Chin and Kono are asleep; Chin with his head down on the table, Kono curled even tighter into herself, her head pillowed on her hand.
Danny moves quietly through the apartment, trashing the sticky paper cones and corralling all the paperwork into semi-neat stacks that they can work on later. He thinks about a shower, but ends up just brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face, and then nearly has a stroke when he comes out of the bathroom and almost trips over McGarrett, standing and watching Kono and Chin.
"Did you ever hear of knocking?" Danny demands, and the only reason he's not yelling is because he doesn't want to wake anyone up, nothing to do with the dark circles that are all but etched in Steve's face.
"I saw them through the window," Steve answers, just as quietly. "Didn't want to wake them."
"A light tap is still considered polite," Danny mutters. "Or a 'hey, Danny,' when you get inside. Even just a--"
"Got it," Steve says. "Knock next time."
Danny looks up with something close to alarm, because that was way too easy. Steve not meeting his eyes is another mark in the Not Right column, but before he can start prying whatever it is out of the stubborn bastard, Kono wakes up.
"Hey, boss," she says, sitting up and stretching.
"Hey, yourself," Steve says, with a pretty credible attempt at normality. Danny can see right through it of course, but Kono's still half-asleep, so he doesn't think she notices anything. "You did good today."
"Thanks," Kono says, stretching and standing up. "Lost my dinner here, though."
"Happens to everyone," Steve says, and Danny nods, because that's nothing but the truth, and there's no reason for Kono to feel bad about it. "I don't want to see you tomorrow. Grab your board and hit Ala Moana; show them how it's done." He nods to Chin, who's awake now, as well. "Goes for you, too."
"Sure thing, Steve," Chin says, and Danny's pretty sure Chin's not buying the super-cool act, but Chin Ho and Steve--they've got some weird thing going, what with the old man and who he'd been to the both of them. Danny figures they'll work it out, but it's not gonna be tonight.
"Come on, cuz," Kono says. "I'll give you a ride home so you don't kill yourself on the bike." Chin and Steve do some complicated fist bump thing--Danny figures it's some kind of former-quarterback secret handshake or something--and Kono follows him out the door, shooting Danny a look that tells him in no uncertain terms that not only did she notice the crap face Steve was putting on things, but that Danny was on notice to deal with it.
Danny's not going to argue with the woman; he's seen her roundhouse kick.
"I should probably go, too," Steve says. "I didn't realize it was so late--"
"What's in the bag?" Danny interrupts, pointing to the white paper bag Steve's been holding the whole time. Steve tosses it to him; Danny digs in to find--predictably--malasadas, still warm from the fryer. "I thought you didn't like these things."
"I didn't say I didn't like them, I said I didn't eat them," Steve says. "Figured I shouldn't show up empty-handed."
"Steve McGarrett, thoughtful guest. Who knew?" Danny says, dropping the bag on the table and opening the cupboard over the tiny sink. "The least I can do is reciprocate." He finds his bottle of good Scotch and a couple of glasses that are reasonably clean and adds them to the stash.
"It's a party," Steve says, pouring a couple of fingers into each glass.
"Really?" Danny snorts. "That's what you call a party on the island?"
Steve gives him one of those twitchy eyebrow things but goes back and pours more before he hands one glass to Danny and starts in on the other. He gets one swallow and his eyebrows stop with the glower and go up in a sort of surprised appreciation. Danny settles back on the couch and enjoys the moment. It really is the good stuff.
"So what's the good word from Washington Place and our esteemed governor?"
"She's grateful for our assistance," Steve says, tossing back the rest of what's in his glass. Danny shakes his head--30-year-old, single malt Scotch deserves so much better. Steve starts to pace, four quick steps across the apartment, four back the other way. "She appreciates our hard work."
"Sit down before your Size Elevens wear a path on my floor." Danny's expecting Steve to take the chair, but shifts over willingly enough when he drops down on the couch with him, especially since the Scotch and the donut-things come along for the ride. He motions impatiently and Steve adds a little more to their glasses. Danny takes another belt and swallows hard, lets the smoky burn slide down the back of his throat. "They never get it," he says after a while. "They think they do; they look at the photos, read the forensic reports, but…"
"Yeah," Steve says, and it gets quiet, but comfortable, possibly for the first time since they've met. Steve sips thoughtfully; as soon as he finishes, Danny knows he'll be gone. He thinks about that house, the one Steve grew up in, the one with Jack McGarrett's blood still a faint stain on the floor, the one Steve won't leave. He has his reasons, Danny knows, but tonight's not a good night for ghosts.
Before Steve can gather himself to go, Danny flips on the TV. Somebody must be watching out for him, because the first thing he sees is The Sting, reason enough to stay.
"Dinner?" Danny tilts the bag of malasadas in Steve's direction. "I know you wouldn't be bringing me anything but the best."
Steve looks at the bag for a couple of seconds, which is more indecision than Danny's ever seen from him.
"C'mon, you can swim an extra mile tomorrow," Danny says. "Or does that bit about not needing to see anyone not extend to you?"
"What the hell," Steve says, digging into the bag.
"Jesus," Danny says, when he comes back out with a giant handful. "Leave some for your partner, yeah?"
Shut up," Steve says, pushing the bag back at Danny and putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Newman's about to start the con."
"Yes, dear," Danny says, settling back for the night.
***
Continued in Late Lunch
no subject