Apparently in Hawaii there are things like
this little guy.
"Jesus Christ," Danny says.
Steve's walking on ahead, rambling on about the natural beauty of the rainforests and how fantastic nature is and doesn't seem to realize that Danny is face to face with something that probably wants to kill and eat him.
"Danno?"
"Fuck you, McGarrett," Danny says in a surprisingly calm voice. "Fuck you and your nature hike dates." He should have known this was a bad idea, that the odds of them getting through something like this without incident were stacked against them.
Steve ghosts up alongside him, tense and worried. "Danny?"
"What the hell is that?" Danny asks, not taking his eyes off the thing that's most likely trying to figure out which one of them to go for first.
Frowning, Steve follows his gaze, and Danny is not at all reassured at the way his face lights up because this is Steve.
Steve, the guy who keeps strike gear and who knows what else in the back of his truck. Steve, the guy who keeps grenades in Danny's car. Steve, the guy who somehow sweet-talks Danny into giving that whole exploring the natural wonders of Hawaii a second chance and then conveniently forgets to mention all the ways in which said natural wonders wants to kill them.
"Nananana makakiʻi," Steve says, like that's supposed to mean anything to Danny. Seeing the look on Danny's face, Steve rolls his eyes and tries again. "Theridion grallator." And then, because Danny isn't the hardcore science nerd that Steve is, "Happy face spider."
"Happy face spider," Danny says, taking a better look at it. If he squints, he can see how someone, clearly out of their fucking mind, could consider the red and black markings spread across the spider's back like some kind of nightmare graffiti to be a smile. The kind of smile an evil, murderous clown might have, sure, but a smile nonetheless.
"He's happy to see you!" Steve says, because he's a moron.
Danny looks at Steve, completely unimpressed. "You," he says, edging away from the spider because he still isn't convinced it's not a killer, "are a moron."
Steve grins, like that's some kind of compliment, which. Fuck it. Whatever, Danny gives up.
"Weren't there some etchings you wanted to show me?" Danny asks, trying not to think about what happened the last time Steve wanted to show him some etchings, or the way Steve's eyebrows are doing complicated acrobatics because he's not only a moron, but also, apparently, twelve.
"Shut it," Danny says, jabbing Steve in the chest with a finger when it looks like he's going to say something. "Seriously, McGarrett, I will kill you."
Steve rolls his eyes again, but mercifully refrains from making an ill-advised comment about etchings of any kind. "We're almost there," he says instead, and turns around to lead the way.
Danny watches him for a moment, wondering what the hell he's even doing in the middle of a fucking rainforest filled with happy face spiders and other assorted nightmare creatures. And then Steve looks back at him, smiling his stupidly happy smile, and Danny realizes that's pretty much his answer right there.
"Jesus Christ," Danny says, only this time it's for a completely different reason.
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