(no subject)
So, like. Yes? IDK, you guys. I've been all over the place today, sorry.
Danny knows, knows, he's gone over all the possible was things could go wrong with Steve. He has an actual list because he worries. He's worried since he first discovered this nasty little genetic hiccup. He's worried since that day, and his worry only increased the day Rachel told him she was pregnant. Things got exponential from there, or something like that. Math has never been Danny's strong-suit. The point is, he worries. He worries because as much as he'd like it not to be, this is a big fucking deal, and Steve making light of it because he's that kind of asshole really isn't really helping.
"It wasn't funny then when Matty was the one making the horrible jokes and comparisons when they were actually relevant, and it isn't funny now," Danny says, growls, really, when Steve sets the movies he went out to rent down in front of him. Michael J. Fox is looking up at him from the top DVD case with badly done movie fur. The movie under it is just as familiar with David Naughton and Griffin Dunne on the cover. "Also, you're an asshole, in case I haven't told you so recently."
Steve looks all too pleased with himself as he holds up a bag from the ABC store down the street. "Hey." Steve looks like he has all the faith in the world that Danny won't lose control and try to rip his face off in a matter of hours. Danny's known he has little to no self-preservation instincts, but this is taking things to a whole new level. "Relax." Danny waits for it, and Steve doesn't disappoint. "There are no moors anywhere near here."
Danny's eyes narrow, the all-over prickly feeling he's been feeling under his skin for the past few days colliding with his worry and irritation over Steve's Steveness. "McGarrett."
"Yeah, see," Steve says, as though he's unaware of Danny's rising annoyance. "I knew you'd be like this, so I got you something."
Danny has a bad feeling about this. Mostly based on past experience in dealing with Steve. "Thanks, I'm good," he says. "Really."
Steve, though. Steve doesn't know when to leave well enough alone because he reaches into the bag and pulls something out that is clearly some sort of unholy abomination. "I saw it and thought of you," he says with an absurdly pleased smile. "Well, you and maybe a little Miami Vice."
It's the most godawful thing Danny's ever seen, and he has seen some terrible things in his lifetime. Oddly, it's enough to take his mind off his worries and put him into a mild sort of frothing rage. "What the hell is that?" he demands, horrified - scandalized. Definitely traumatized and offended on behalf of all his kind because there's wrong, and then there's whatever the hell that is. "Who the hell would come up with something like that?"
"Right," Steve says. "Because a werewolf in Hawaii is crazy talk."
And, yeah. Okay. The smug bastard has him there. "Shut your face, Danny says. There's no feeling in it, though, or, no. It's more like Danny doesn't actually mean it, and that. "Seriously." Danny doesn't like the look on Steve's face. He really, really doesn't like it.
"Look," Steve says, like he knows Danny won't actually kill him, furry or not. Danny's never had the heart to tell him it's more that the paperwork would be a bitch, and not some kind of misguided fondness on Danny's part. "It comes with backup sunglasses, in case anything happens to these."
'These' happen to be the pair of pink, possibly rose-tinted, sunglasses adorning the unholy abomination's face. "Why am I not surprised by that?" Danny asks. "Wait, no. Don't answer that. I don't want to know why he has spares."
Steve shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about what Danny might have to say about the whole thing as he settles down on the couch next to Danny, still holding on to the unholy abomination. "I think it's pretty cool."
Danny snorts. "Again," he says, the tension that's been building up over the past few days giving up the ghost when confronted with Steve's unfaltering Steveness in spite of everything. "Why am I not surprised by that?":
Steve shrugs again, attention focused on the unholy abomination and whether or not it looks cooler when arranged in one pose or another. "Dunno," he mutters.
Danny sighs, and has a moment of how, and why him, and then Steve's jabbing him in the side with a bony elbow and pointing out that the accessories for Grace's Dolphin Trainer Barbie and her friends will fit the unholy abomination. "Why is this my life?" Danny asks, already knowing the answer.
Steve gives him an amused smile, like he really has no problem with the fact a few hours from now Danny is going to be a sight more hairier than usual, that nothing's out of the ordinary, and gets up to hunt down the tiny little fedora for Grace's Ken doll. "You're a moron," Danny calls after him, but it feels a lot like thank you than anything else. Steve's muffled, "You're going to love it," sounds a hell of a lot like a you're welcome, but there's more than a little of I'm a complete asshole and there's nothing you can do about it in there too, which is just about right.
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