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Ahaha, I've been lacking energy the last couple of days due to... things, and then there was this? And I am like, "Ahahaha, remember that time Steve was horrible with kids? And then realized that as Danny has one of those maybe Steve should do the research? Or, like, ask the internets?" And then was all, "Oh, Steve."
Danny finds Steve in his office staring at the computer screen as if it has somehow personally betrayed him, which. Hey, not outside the realm of possibility - it's a computer. They do that.
"What is with that face?" Danny asks. It isn't curiosity that makes him ask so much as morbid curiosity, really, since up close it seems as though there's the faintest hint of horror in Steve's expression. "Steve?"
No response, or at least nothing recognizable as one, so Danny leans around Steve to see what he's looking at. It seems to be a web site on parenting. Parenting. Danny thinks on that for a moment, and takes in the look on Steve's face. Now that he's really looking, he can definitely see the horror, disbelief, and, confusion. So much confusion. So, so much confusion.
"Oh, Steven," Danny says, shaking his head as he turns Steve's monitor a little to see what other sites he has pulled up on his computer. More parenting sites and a couple of articles written by the same kind of people who like to start "discussions" about fashion trends and what's "hot or not" that have absolutely no credibility behind them whatsoever. "Oh, Steven."
"I don't understand." It's the first thing Steve's said since Danny walked in. "Kids," he says, looking at Danny. "How the hell do they work?"
Danny stares at him, and if this wasn't Steve asking him, he'd have to wonder a little. Since it is Steve, however, he just sighs. "Steve." It's. Kids. Danny doesn't know how to explain this in words Steve will understand because, well. Kids. How the hell do they work? Danny has one and half the time he has no fucking idea what he's doing. He does his best, or tries to at any rate and hopes like hell he's not screwing up too badly, but really, he has no idea what he's done right with Grace that she's turned into such an amazing kid.
"No one knows," Danny says, and judging by the look Steve turns on him, it's definitely not the answer he was hoping for. "Seriously," Danny says, gesturing at Steve's computer. "You've got, like, every parenting site open on your computer right now, and I'm willing to bet not a single one of them agrees on anything, right?"
Steve blinks, long and slow. "...No?" He's watching Danny like he thinks it might be a trick question. Like Danny is fucking with him just for kicks, which admittedly he would at any other time, but really. This is Steve trying to. Danny doesn't know what Steve's trying to do, but he's been holed up in his office for hours apparently scouring the internet for tips and insights into being a good parent. That's definitely something.
"Yeah," Danny says. "Sucks, doesn't it?" Danny went through something like this years ago, after Rachel told him she - they - were pregnant, and again when it really hit him that he was going to be responsible for a new life, for a baby, a tiny person. He's gone through it every moment since then, with everything he does and thinks and says because how can he not?
Steve scowls at him and turns the monitor to face him. "I just. It shouldn't be this hard," Steve says, frustration breaking through. "They're kids. Tiny versions of adults. We used be them."
All very true, and a little terrifying when put that way because, well, Steve. Danny tries and fails to imagine a tiny version of Steve running around that doesn't have some kind of weapon on his person.
"Danny - "
"Kids are kids," Danny says, and shrugs. Most of what he does with Grace is based on instinct, or so the books and articles have told him. A lot of it is what he remembers his parents doing with him when he was a kid. The rest is a general sort of desperate hope that he's doing the right thing. "They let you know when you're doing something right." Not always in words, but they let you know. "Usually when it's something good for them and they don't believe you," Danny grimaces, remembering the battles he's had with Grace in the past on things like brushing her teeth and baths and bedtime. "But you know."
Steve looks at him. "Tiny versions of adults," he says, almost like a question.
Danny rolls his eyes. "That too," he agrees. There are times Grace reminds him all too much of her mother, when she gets stubborn and sets her foot down on something or other. There are times she reminds him too much of himself, when she's angry and argumentative. But then, oh, but then there are the times she's wholly herself, tiny and smart and oh so clever, a bright point of light in his life that makes everything, everything, worth it.
"There might be something to those sites," Danny says because God knows there might be, somewhere. "But they aren't going to tell you what you need to know." Certainly not the kinds of things Steve's looking for. Danny's only known him for a short while, but he knows that much.
Steve rubs his eyes, looking tired and resigned as he mutters to himself about tiny versions of adults and something Danny's glad he doesn't catch all of having to do with elves.
"Look," Danny says, glancing around at Steve's office. "I've got Grace for the weekend, I'm sure she'd love to give you some pointers on interacting with kids."
From the look Steve gets on his face at that - something caught between surprise and panic with that side of horror - he's probably expecting something like a kid out an 50's sitcom. Pigtails and tea parties and dresses with pinafores or petticoats or God knows what else. Not that Grace hasn't hosted a tea party or two in her time, it's just that she's as likely to fleece Steve in a game of cards than ask if he wants one lump or two with his tea.
Probably not what Steve's expecting, and it will definitely skew his perception of kids in general, but it'll be good for him. Knock him out of the frame of mind that insists there's such a thing as normal when it comes to kids because really, there isn't. Tiny versions of adults, after all.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Steve says, making a face. "Kids. Me. We don't get along."
Danny tries, he does, but he remembers the incident in the elevator as well as Steve does. "Yeah, well," he says with a grin. "This is why the practice. Trust me, Grace can handle anything you can throw at her." She may look like an adorable little girl, but she shares his genes. She shares Rachel's genes, and that pretty much says it all right there.
Steve looks like he's trying to think of a way out of accepting Danny's offer, which. No. No, because Grace wants to thank Steve in person for that weekend with the dolphins, and getting to traumatize Steve by upsetting his worldview when it comes to children is not something Danny's going to let him get out of. "Come on," Danny says, clapping his hands together. "We're getting out of here and away from those," Danny points at Steve's computer and the web sites full of conflicting advice and horrible design choices. "Then you, Steve, will get a crash course in kids."
Steve's staring at him. "What?"
"Move it, McGarrett." Danny's starting to wonder if it's wrong to enjoy Steve's confusion and uncertainty so much when he knows what the poor bastard is in for, but really? Steve asked for it. He's the one looking to improve his kid-wrangling skills, and luckily Danny happens to have one of those. "Time and tide and all that."
"Danny - "
"Seriously," Danny says. He can tell Steve's getting suspicious. "Let's go. Dinner. You, me, and Grace." Danny pauses. "Your treat, of course."
Steve finally gets the message as he shuts his computer down and starts to gather his things. "My treat. Of course," he says. "Why is this an 'of course' kind of situation, or should I even ask?"
Danny sighs, like Steve's being particularly thickheaded. "Because, Steven," he says. "We are offering a service. To you. It's only fair we be recompensed."
Danny can all but hear Steve rolling his eyes at that, but he makes an agreeable kind of noise as he falls into step with Danny. He looks like he's steeling himself to walk into a war zone, and yeah. Okay. Fair enough, kids are like that. "Relax," Danny says. "She's a kid, not a mission."
"Says you," Steve mutters, but some of the tension goes out of him, his expression edging down a notch or two from scary intense to intensely concerned and slightly baffled as to how the hell he got himself into his current situation.
"Says me," Danny says, propelling Steve the last few feet to the front doors with a hand to his shoulder when Steve slows. "I've got a little bit of experience in this area, trust me."
Steve snorts, but the look he gives Danny is equal parts exasperation and gratitude. "I'll try keep that in mind."
Danny smiles and nods and wonders if he should get the camera out or if the one in his phone will be good enough for whatever happens next.
Posted at http://kitsune-tsuki.dreamwidth.org/382665.html. | You can reply here or there. |
Danny finds Steve in his office staring at the computer screen as if it has somehow personally betrayed him, which. Hey, not outside the realm of possibility - it's a computer. They do that.
"What is with that face?" Danny asks. It isn't curiosity that makes him ask so much as morbid curiosity, really, since up close it seems as though there's the faintest hint of horror in Steve's expression. "Steve?"
No response, or at least nothing recognizable as one, so Danny leans around Steve to see what he's looking at. It seems to be a web site on parenting. Parenting. Danny thinks on that for a moment, and takes in the look on Steve's face. Now that he's really looking, he can definitely see the horror, disbelief, and, confusion. So much confusion. So, so much confusion.
"Oh, Steven," Danny says, shaking his head as he turns Steve's monitor a little to see what other sites he has pulled up on his computer. More parenting sites and a couple of articles written by the same kind of people who like to start "discussions" about fashion trends and what's "hot or not" that have absolutely no credibility behind them whatsoever. "Oh, Steven."
"I don't understand." It's the first thing Steve's said since Danny walked in. "Kids," he says, looking at Danny. "How the hell do they work?"
Danny stares at him, and if this wasn't Steve asking him, he'd have to wonder a little. Since it is Steve, however, he just sighs. "Steve." It's. Kids. Danny doesn't know how to explain this in words Steve will understand because, well. Kids. How the hell do they work? Danny has one and half the time he has no fucking idea what he's doing. He does his best, or tries to at any rate and hopes like hell he's not screwing up too badly, but really, he has no idea what he's done right with Grace that she's turned into such an amazing kid.
"No one knows," Danny says, and judging by the look Steve turns on him, it's definitely not the answer he was hoping for. "Seriously," Danny says, gesturing at Steve's computer. "You've got, like, every parenting site open on your computer right now, and I'm willing to bet not a single one of them agrees on anything, right?"
Steve blinks, long and slow. "...No?" He's watching Danny like he thinks it might be a trick question. Like Danny is fucking with him just for kicks, which admittedly he would at any other time, but really. This is Steve trying to. Danny doesn't know what Steve's trying to do, but he's been holed up in his office for hours apparently scouring the internet for tips and insights into being a good parent. That's definitely something.
"Yeah," Danny says. "Sucks, doesn't it?" Danny went through something like this years ago, after Rachel told him she - they - were pregnant, and again when it really hit him that he was going to be responsible for a new life, for a baby, a tiny person. He's gone through it every moment since then, with everything he does and thinks and says because how can he not?
Steve scowls at him and turns the monitor to face him. "I just. It shouldn't be this hard," Steve says, frustration breaking through. "They're kids. Tiny versions of adults. We used be them."
All very true, and a little terrifying when put that way because, well, Steve. Danny tries and fails to imagine a tiny version of Steve running around that doesn't have some kind of weapon on his person.
"Danny - "
"Kids are kids," Danny says, and shrugs. Most of what he does with Grace is based on instinct, or so the books and articles have told him. A lot of it is what he remembers his parents doing with him when he was a kid. The rest is a general sort of desperate hope that he's doing the right thing. "They let you know when you're doing something right." Not always in words, but they let you know. "Usually when it's something good for them and they don't believe you," Danny grimaces, remembering the battles he's had with Grace in the past on things like brushing her teeth and baths and bedtime. "But you know."
Steve looks at him. "Tiny versions of adults," he says, almost like a question.
Danny rolls his eyes. "That too," he agrees. There are times Grace reminds him all too much of her mother, when she gets stubborn and sets her foot down on something or other. There are times she reminds him too much of himself, when she's angry and argumentative. But then, oh, but then there are the times she's wholly herself, tiny and smart and oh so clever, a bright point of light in his life that makes everything, everything, worth it.
"There might be something to those sites," Danny says because God knows there might be, somewhere. "But they aren't going to tell you what you need to know." Certainly not the kinds of things Steve's looking for. Danny's only known him for a short while, but he knows that much.
Steve rubs his eyes, looking tired and resigned as he mutters to himself about tiny versions of adults and something Danny's glad he doesn't catch all of having to do with elves.
"Look," Danny says, glancing around at Steve's office. "I've got Grace for the weekend, I'm sure she'd love to give you some pointers on interacting with kids."
From the look Steve gets on his face at that - something caught between surprise and panic with that side of horror - he's probably expecting something like a kid out an 50's sitcom. Pigtails and tea parties and dresses with pinafores or petticoats or God knows what else. Not that Grace hasn't hosted a tea party or two in her time, it's just that she's as likely to fleece Steve in a game of cards than ask if he wants one lump or two with his tea.
Probably not what Steve's expecting, and it will definitely skew his perception of kids in general, but it'll be good for him. Knock him out of the frame of mind that insists there's such a thing as normal when it comes to kids because really, there isn't. Tiny versions of adults, after all.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Steve says, making a face. "Kids. Me. We don't get along."
Danny tries, he does, but he remembers the incident in the elevator as well as Steve does. "Yeah, well," he says with a grin. "This is why the practice. Trust me, Grace can handle anything you can throw at her." She may look like an adorable little girl, but she shares his genes. She shares Rachel's genes, and that pretty much says it all right there.
Steve looks like he's trying to think of a way out of accepting Danny's offer, which. No. No, because Grace wants to thank Steve in person for that weekend with the dolphins, and getting to traumatize Steve by upsetting his worldview when it comes to children is not something Danny's going to let him get out of. "Come on," Danny says, clapping his hands together. "We're getting out of here and away from those," Danny points at Steve's computer and the web sites full of conflicting advice and horrible design choices. "Then you, Steve, will get a crash course in kids."
Steve's staring at him. "What?"
"Move it, McGarrett." Danny's starting to wonder if it's wrong to enjoy Steve's confusion and uncertainty so much when he knows what the poor bastard is in for, but really? Steve asked for it. He's the one looking to improve his kid-wrangling skills, and luckily Danny happens to have one of those. "Time and tide and all that."
"Danny - "
"Seriously," Danny says. He can tell Steve's getting suspicious. "Let's go. Dinner. You, me, and Grace." Danny pauses. "Your treat, of course."
Steve finally gets the message as he shuts his computer down and starts to gather his things. "My treat. Of course," he says. "Why is this an 'of course' kind of situation, or should I even ask?"
Danny sighs, like Steve's being particularly thickheaded. "Because, Steven," he says. "We are offering a service. To you. It's only fair we be recompensed."
Danny can all but hear Steve rolling his eyes at that, but he makes an agreeable kind of noise as he falls into step with Danny. He looks like he's steeling himself to walk into a war zone, and yeah. Okay. Fair enough, kids are like that. "Relax," Danny says. "She's a kid, not a mission."
"Says you," Steve mutters, but some of the tension goes out of him, his expression edging down a notch or two from scary intense to intensely concerned and slightly baffled as to how the hell he got himself into his current situation.
"Says me," Danny says, propelling Steve the last few feet to the front doors with a hand to his shoulder when Steve slows. "I've got a little bit of experience in this area, trust me."
Steve snorts, but the look he gives Danny is equal parts exasperation and gratitude. "I'll try keep that in mind."
Danny smiles and nods and wonders if he should get the camera out or if the one in his phone will be good enough for whatever happens next.
Posted at http://kitsune-tsuki.dreamwidth.org/382665.html. | You can reply here or there. |