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I don't even know with this. It was just one of those days.
Steve's restless. Restless and irritable and Danny kind of hates his team for nominating him as official Steve-sitter because Steve called dibs on him way back when.
"Danny - "
"No." Danny may not be thrilled with the whole Steve-sitting thing, mostly because of Steve being a major pain in his ass, but he's not about to let the moron make things worse.
"Come on," Steve wheedles, like he isn't already pathetic enough, he has to break out the damn puppy-dog eyes. "I'm not an invalid."
No. No he's not, he's just incredibly whiny and stubborn beyond all imagining. Looking around, Danny tries to think of something he can use to keep Steve occupied, something that won't have him whining even more, like, oh, tackling the truly staggering amount of paperwork that he's let slide because he's that kind of asshole.
And then his gaze lands on one of the get well drawings Grace made for Steve and has an idea. He slides a look at Steve, pouting slightly and slumped on the couch, annoyed and betrayed by his body's limitations. Like maybe no one ever bothered to tell him that, hey, jumping out of a window several stories up while chasing after a fleeing perp might result in bodily injury.
"Sit," he says, because he knows Steve, and isn't above being a bit of an asshole himself if the situation warrants. "Stay."
Steve scowls at him, annoyed and unimpressed. "Not a dog, Danny."
Danny raises an eyebrow, thinking back to a time not so long ago when Steve did the same damn thing to his own sister, but, again, this is Steve he's dealing with. (Danny despairs that he's been reduced to something like that. To having no other explanation for things than Steve's own name and having it make perfect sense, not just to him, but others, which. Danny isn't sure if that makes things better or worse, that other people, people who don't know Steve personally, can be given his name as an explanation and just nod knowingly.)
"And yet," Danny says, "you are going to sit right here and stay sitting right here, or I will shove your crutches down your throat." It's possible Danny has some lingering anger issues about Steve being the kind of idiot who actually jumps out of windows without so much as hesitating because he occasionally forgets he's human and therefore on the breakable side of things.
Steve opens his mouth to say something, like he really thinks Danny won't. Something, maybe the fact that at this moment in time Danny would love nothing better must show on his face because Steve backs down. Slumping down even further and looking exactly like the sullen teenager Danny suspects Steve secretly wanted to be once upon a time.
"Good. Great," Danny says, and claps his hands together as he gets up. "I'm glad we have that settled."
Danny knows Steve's kitchen well enough that he doesn't have problems getting a pot and measuring cup, but he has to do a little digging to find the strainer. When he finally does find it, he turns around to see - surprise, surprise - Steve leaning heavily on his crutches in the kitchen doorway.
"Yeah, see," Danny says, setting the strainer down on the kitchen counter. "Unlike you, a dog would have listened to me."
Steve rolls his eyes, mouth twitching slightly.
Danny just points at the chair pulled up to the counter where Steve will be able to see what Danny's doing because, well. Steve. "Do us all a favor and stay off your damn leg, okay? The longer it takes you to heal up, the stronger the urge to kill you gets." When Steve looks unmoved by the plight of those around him, Danny sighs. "McGarrett. Steve. Take pity on our family and friends who will have to visit us in prison after we kill you for being an annoying bastard, all right? Take a damn load off." Danny's not just speaking for himself but Kono and Chin and everyone Steve is driving to the brink of homicide in his current state.
Finally, finally, Steve edges over to the chair and sits. He somehow manages to make it look like he's doing Danny a favor, but he does it, leaning his crutches against the counter as he pokes at the utensils spread out on the counter. "What are you doing, anyway?" he asks, nose wrinkling when Danny sets the bottle of milk down in front of him.
Danny doesn't answer right away as he's busy looking through the pantry for the vinegar. "I used to do this with Grace, when she was younger." He leaves out the parts where he was still married to Rachel, the parts where money was tight, or the weather was bad enough that a run to the store was out of the question. The parts where he has memories of his parents doing the same for him when he was a kid to keep him entertained when he was restless and tired and frustrated with his own limitations.
Steve watches intently as Danny carefully measures out the milk, pouring it into the pot and turns the stove on, keeping one eye on the pot, the other on Steve. "Make yourself useful," Danny says, pushing the vinegar, measuring spoons and a small bowl at him. "Eight tablespoons."
Sighing, Steve does as he's told, even though there's more than a touch of God, why, in it.
Danny snaps his fingers at Steve when the milk reaches the right temperature and ignores the heavy sigh from Steve as he takes the bowl of vinegar and adds it to the pot, grabbing a slotted spoon. At the corner of his eye he can see Steve leaning in to watch as the reaction takes place, interested in spite of himself. Steve pulls the bowl with the strainer in it over when Danny pulls the pot off the stove and pours the mixture out.
"Move over," Danny says, sliding the bowl in Steve's direction.
Steve snorts and moves back, eying the bowl and it's decidedly unappetizing contents dubiously. "What is that?"
In lieu of answering, Danny turns the stove off and turns around to look at Steve. Steve is still staring at the bowl, equal measures curious and wary. "Science," Danny says, resigned to the fondness in his voice because, again, Steve.
He can actually see Steve working through it, chemical reactions and all that, but still there's confusion. "You harbor secret dreams of being a cheese farmer?" Steve hazards, no doubt tacking on a really shitty cheese farmer? in his head because, lest Danny forget this one simple thing about him, Steve is - above all else - an asshole.
"...Yes, Steve. That's. Wow. Color me impressed," Danny says, scooping up a small handful of the bowl's contents. He rolls it in his hands until it reaches the right consistency before turning his full attention to shaping it. After a few minutes of careful work, Danny holds his hand out, palm up. In the center sits a small, lopsided pineapple. "Voilà!" he says. "Your state fruit." Danny knows Hawaii doesn't actually have a state fruit, but he never gets tired of Steve's reaction when he does things like that.
"Jesus Christ," Steve says, dropping his head into his hands, obviously pained. "We don't have a state fruit."
Danny looks at him. "Really? That's. I'm so sorry, I didn't know," he says, like he's deeply saddened that the glorious state of Hawaii does not know the joy and wonder of such a thing. "Really."
Steve's eyes narrow as he snags a little of the plastic out of the bowl. "Right. And I suppose New Jersey has a state fruit." It's more a challenge than question.
"Well, yes,” Danny says, as if it should be obvious, setting the horribly mangled pineapple down. “Of course." Danny crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter. Steve's not restless now so much as he's out and out annoyed, but it's an improvement. At least Steve's focused on something besides his leg and the fact that he can't (they won't let him) run after the criminal scumbag of the day with the state it's in at the moment. A small enough victory, but with Steve every little bit helps.
How to make homemade plastic! A helpful list of various state fruits and other foods! Also! Just because! :D?
Posted at http://kitsune-tsuki.dreamwidth.org/361535.html. | You can reply here or there. |
Steve's restless. Restless and irritable and Danny kind of hates his team for nominating him as official Steve-sitter because Steve called dibs on him way back when.
"Danny - "
"No." Danny may not be thrilled with the whole Steve-sitting thing, mostly because of Steve being a major pain in his ass, but he's not about to let the moron make things worse.
"Come on," Steve wheedles, like he isn't already pathetic enough, he has to break out the damn puppy-dog eyes. "I'm not an invalid."
No. No he's not, he's just incredibly whiny and stubborn beyond all imagining. Looking around, Danny tries to think of something he can use to keep Steve occupied, something that won't have him whining even more, like, oh, tackling the truly staggering amount of paperwork that he's let slide because he's that kind of asshole.
And then his gaze lands on one of the get well drawings Grace made for Steve and has an idea. He slides a look at Steve, pouting slightly and slumped on the couch, annoyed and betrayed by his body's limitations. Like maybe no one ever bothered to tell him that, hey, jumping out of a window several stories up while chasing after a fleeing perp might result in bodily injury.
"Sit," he says, because he knows Steve, and isn't above being a bit of an asshole himself if the situation warrants. "Stay."
Steve scowls at him, annoyed and unimpressed. "Not a dog, Danny."
Danny raises an eyebrow, thinking back to a time not so long ago when Steve did the same damn thing to his own sister, but, again, this is Steve he's dealing with. (Danny despairs that he's been reduced to something like that. To having no other explanation for things than Steve's own name and having it make perfect sense, not just to him, but others, which. Danny isn't sure if that makes things better or worse, that other people, people who don't know Steve personally, can be given his name as an explanation and just nod knowingly.)
"And yet," Danny says, "you are going to sit right here and stay sitting right here, or I will shove your crutches down your throat." It's possible Danny has some lingering anger issues about Steve being the kind of idiot who actually jumps out of windows without so much as hesitating because he occasionally forgets he's human and therefore on the breakable side of things.
Steve opens his mouth to say something, like he really thinks Danny won't. Something, maybe the fact that at this moment in time Danny would love nothing better must show on his face because Steve backs down. Slumping down even further and looking exactly like the sullen teenager Danny suspects Steve secretly wanted to be once upon a time.
"Good. Great," Danny says, and claps his hands together as he gets up. "I'm glad we have that settled."
Danny knows Steve's kitchen well enough that he doesn't have problems getting a pot and measuring cup, but he has to do a little digging to find the strainer. When he finally does find it, he turns around to see - surprise, surprise - Steve leaning heavily on his crutches in the kitchen doorway.
"Yeah, see," Danny says, setting the strainer down on the kitchen counter. "Unlike you, a dog would have listened to me."
Steve rolls his eyes, mouth twitching slightly.
Danny just points at the chair pulled up to the counter where Steve will be able to see what Danny's doing because, well. Steve. "Do us all a favor and stay off your damn leg, okay? The longer it takes you to heal up, the stronger the urge to kill you gets." When Steve looks unmoved by the plight of those around him, Danny sighs. "McGarrett. Steve. Take pity on our family and friends who will have to visit us in prison after we kill you for being an annoying bastard, all right? Take a damn load off." Danny's not just speaking for himself but Kono and Chin and everyone Steve is driving to the brink of homicide in his current state.
Finally, finally, Steve edges over to the chair and sits. He somehow manages to make it look like he's doing Danny a favor, but he does it, leaning his crutches against the counter as he pokes at the utensils spread out on the counter. "What are you doing, anyway?" he asks, nose wrinkling when Danny sets the bottle of milk down in front of him.
Danny doesn't answer right away as he's busy looking through the pantry for the vinegar. "I used to do this with Grace, when she was younger." He leaves out the parts where he was still married to Rachel, the parts where money was tight, or the weather was bad enough that a run to the store was out of the question. The parts where he has memories of his parents doing the same for him when he was a kid to keep him entertained when he was restless and tired and frustrated with his own limitations.
Steve watches intently as Danny carefully measures out the milk, pouring it into the pot and turns the stove on, keeping one eye on the pot, the other on Steve. "Make yourself useful," Danny says, pushing the vinegar, measuring spoons and a small bowl at him. "Eight tablespoons."
Sighing, Steve does as he's told, even though there's more than a touch of God, why, in it.
Danny snaps his fingers at Steve when the milk reaches the right temperature and ignores the heavy sigh from Steve as he takes the bowl of vinegar and adds it to the pot, grabbing a slotted spoon. At the corner of his eye he can see Steve leaning in to watch as the reaction takes place, interested in spite of himself. Steve pulls the bowl with the strainer in it over when Danny pulls the pot off the stove and pours the mixture out.
"Move over," Danny says, sliding the bowl in Steve's direction.
Steve snorts and moves back, eying the bowl and it's decidedly unappetizing contents dubiously. "What is that?"
In lieu of answering, Danny turns the stove off and turns around to look at Steve. Steve is still staring at the bowl, equal measures curious and wary. "Science," Danny says, resigned to the fondness in his voice because, again, Steve.
He can actually see Steve working through it, chemical reactions and all that, but still there's confusion. "You harbor secret dreams of being a cheese farmer?" Steve hazards, no doubt tacking on a really shitty cheese farmer? in his head because, lest Danny forget this one simple thing about him, Steve is - above all else - an asshole.
"...Yes, Steve. That's. Wow. Color me impressed," Danny says, scooping up a small handful of the bowl's contents. He rolls it in his hands until it reaches the right consistency before turning his full attention to shaping it. After a few minutes of careful work, Danny holds his hand out, palm up. In the center sits a small, lopsided pineapple. "Voilà!" he says. "Your state fruit." Danny knows Hawaii doesn't actually have a state fruit, but he never gets tired of Steve's reaction when he does things like that.
"Jesus Christ," Steve says, dropping his head into his hands, obviously pained. "We don't have a state fruit."
Danny looks at him. "Really? That's. I'm so sorry, I didn't know," he says, like he's deeply saddened that the glorious state of Hawaii does not know the joy and wonder of such a thing. "Really."
Steve's eyes narrow as he snags a little of the plastic out of the bowl. "Right. And I suppose New Jersey has a state fruit." It's more a challenge than question.
"Well, yes,” Danny says, as if it should be obvious, setting the horribly mangled pineapple down. “Of course." Danny crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter. Steve's not restless now so much as he's out and out annoyed, but it's an improvement. At least Steve's focused on something besides his leg and the fact that he can't (they won't let him) run after the criminal scumbag of the day with the state it's in at the moment. A small enough victory, but with Steve every little bit helps.
How to make homemade plastic! A helpful list of various state fruits and other foods! Also! Just because! :D?
Posted at http://kitsune-tsuki.dreamwidth.org/361535.html. | You can reply here or there. |