fic: Islands Passing (1/11)
Title: Islands Passing
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny gets more than he bargains for when he follows Grace to London on vacation, only to be wrapped up in espionage.
Notes: This took way longer to get out than I had hoped, but here it is! Thanks to the many, many people who have listened to me bitch and moan and suffer through writer's block, then editing block. Much appreciated--hope you enjoy this! :)
Huge thanks to uxseven for the gorgeous banner and icons for the fic!
The bitch, Danny thinks, of joint custody, is that you can't really deny your daughter the chance to spend part of her summer vacation with her grandparents. And when said grandparents live in London, you can't expect it to be a weekend. So you either do without your daughter for a month, or you plan a vacation to London for part of her trip.
Danny's not in the habit of doing without his daughter.
Which is how he ends up at 221 B Baker Street, trying to muster up excitement to match Grace's. He's watching her ooo and ahh over a prop in the fictional home of the fictional detective when someone stops beside him just a little too close, bumping his briefcase into Danny's leg.
"I do love a good Holmes quote," the man says in a heavy Russian accent. 'The world is full of obvious things,'" he adds, trailing off as if he can't remember the rest.
"'Which nobody by any chance ever observes,'" Danny finishes for him. Because he might not be a fan of the tourist trap, but he'd wanted to be a detective almost from birth. He knows his Holmes.
"That is right," the man says, sounding far too happy that Danny knew the end. "Thank you."
Danny tells him he's welcome absently, too busy watching Grace. "Grace," he calls out after a minute, "do not put that pipe in your mouth, or I will wash your mouth out with soap."
She rolls her eyes at him, but she puts the pipe down and comes back to his side. "Can we go get dinner now?"
"Sure," Danny says, taking her hand. He turns, and nearly trips over the Russian's briefcase.
"Is that yours?" Grace asks.
Danny shakes his head. "No, but I think it's out to get me," he mutters. He looks up and sees the man who'd been carrying it just disappearing down the stairs. "Let's go find the owner," Danny says, grabbing the case and maneuvering through the crowd, Grace in tow.
He sees the man headed out the door just as they get to the top of the stairs. By the time Danny and Grace get out the door, the man is halfway down the block, headed for Baker Street Station. Since it's their destination, too, Danny follows.
He has the man in sight until they get into the station itself. Danny had called out a few times, but the man had been one of the few people who hadn't turned to stare at him. He'd just continued on his way.
They follow him through the turnstiles onto the platform, where he gets onto a train. Danny and Grace barely make it onto the train before the doors close, both a little out of breath.
"Danno, why were we in such a hurry?"
"Because I have this briefcase that belongs to that nice man over--"
Danny looks where he could've sworn the man was, by the next set of doors, but there's no sign of him. He checks the rest of the train, but there's still no sign.
"What man?" Grace asks.
"Apparently the invisible one," Danny says, looking down at the case. He can see now that there's no visible way to open it. Maybe he can open it when they get back to his room and see if there's some sort of ID inside.
After dinner with Grace, Danny drops her off at her grandparents' with a hug and promises for dinner "somewhere cool" next time. He stops for one drink at the hotel bar before going up to his room and staring at the case. He hadn't wanted to take it to the police station just yet--he knows from experience how lost and found cases tended to get treated in most stations, and he doesn't expect London to be any different. If he can't find information on the owner, he'll take it to the police in the morning.
He checks the seam, barely visible all the way around the case, but there's no hint of how to open it. He tries getting something between the seam to pry it open, but he's worried about damaging it.
Police station it is, then.
Placing the case on the desk, he showers and climbs into bed.
***
He's running for a double-decker bus, the bright red ones that regularly threaten his life all over town. It's not moving very fast, but every time his fingers manage to touch the pole at the door to pull himself onto the bus, it lurches forward, just out of reach.
~~~
The shift from sleeping to awake is seamless, which, Danny thinks, is good, because he instantly realizes one very important fact.
He is not alone in his room.
Whoever's in the room is good--he'll give them that. Danny doesn't really remember hearing them come in, though he suspects that woke him. They're making almost no sound even now. It's more a presence he can feel, like static electricity as you walk through a room.
He waits until whoever it is stops moving, somewhere near the desk, before flipping on the bedside lamp and sitting up in bed in one fluid motion. There's a man standing there, frozen in the dim light, hand on the briefcase Danny had left on the desk. He's tall, but dressed in all black, so it's hard to see just how big he is. Then he shifts, and Danny gets a hint of solid, compact muscle.
He stares at Danny as if uncertain what move to make, so Danny decides to break the stalemate. "You're too tall to be a ninja."
That gets a blink, and Danny thinks the shadows that are making the man's cheekbones stand out must be responsible for how long his lashes appear to be. "What?" the man asks after a few more rapid blinks.
"The whole black pajamas thing," Danny says, waving a hand up and down at the man's body, "and sneaking around other people's hotel rooms in the middle of the night. You look like you're auditioning to be a ninja."
The man does his rapid-fire blinking thing again, like a computer flashing a light while it processes. "I'm not a ninja," he says, accent clearly American now that Danny has more than one word to go on.
"This is what I'm saying," Danny replies, wondering if he can reach the knife stashed in the nightstand. The way the man is holding himself, tense and ready to spring, makes Danny think that's unwise. So he falls back on words as his defense. "You're much too tall, for one thing. And you woke me up. Plus, you didn't even wear one of those ninja mask thingies."
"You realize real ninjas never actually wore masks, right?"
"Says you," Danny replies, "but given your generally terrible job at portraying one, I'm not sure I should consider you an authority."
"The ninjas were actually called shinobi, and really, they dressed like normal people most of the time. They dressed to blend in."
Danny nods at the man's outfit. "You're not dressed to blend in," he says. "Again, total ninja fail."
He has to press his lips together to keep from laughing as the man opens and closes his mouth, blinking yet again. "But I blend into this environment," he says, waving his hand at the darkness around him. "So that makes me ninja-like."
Danny considers this for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't see it, sorry," he says. "And by the way, not that I'm not enjoying class, but did you break into my hotel room to give me a lesson on ninjas, or was there a point to your unexpected, uninvited and, I might add, illegal visit at 3 a.m.?"
A few more blinks and the man's face clears, a hint of assurance seeping into his expression. "Ah, that," he says, picking up the briefcase. "I'm afraid this was given to you by mistake. I was sent to collect it."
"How do I know it's yours?"
"Because I went through all this trouble to come get it?"
Danny shrugs. "People go through a lot of trouble trying to rob a bank, too. Doesn't make the money theirs."
The man screws up his face like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Do you always try to distract people who break into your room with confusing dialogue?"
"I don't get a great many gentlemen callers through my window at 3 a.m., honestly," Danny says. "But at least I should get some entertainment out of this before I call the police."
"I can't let you do that."
Danny cocks his head. "What, find this entertaining, or call the police?"
"Call the police." He holds up the case. "This is a matter of national security. Way above their pay grade."
"Which?"
More blinking. "Which pay grade?
"No, which nation? Seriously, you're no better at being a spy than a ninja, are you?"
"I am a very good--" The man stops and takes a breath. "Look, Mr. Williams, thank you for holding onto this--it would've been a lot harder to get from the police. But I'll take care of it from here. Anyone even knowing you had it could be dangerous for you."
"How do you know my name?"
"How do you think I found you?" He smiles, and Danny's momentarily distracted by what a nice smile it is. "Have a nice night and enjoy the rest of your vacation with your daughter," the man says before he ducks out the window.
By the time Danny gets to the window, the night has swallowed the man up, leaving only chilly air.
***
Part 2
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny gets more than he bargains for when he follows Grace to London on vacation, only to be wrapped up in espionage.
Notes: This took way longer to get out than I had hoped, but here it is! Thanks to the many, many people who have listened to me bitch and moan and suffer through writer's block, then editing block. Much appreciated--hope you enjoy this! :)
Huge thanks to uxseven for the gorgeous banner and icons for the fic!
The bitch, Danny thinks, of joint custody, is that you can't really deny your daughter the chance to spend part of her summer vacation with her grandparents. And when said grandparents live in London, you can't expect it to be a weekend. So you either do without your daughter for a month, or you plan a vacation to London for part of her trip.
Danny's not in the habit of doing without his daughter.
Which is how he ends up at 221 B Baker Street, trying to muster up excitement to match Grace's. He's watching her ooo and ahh over a prop in the fictional home of the fictional detective when someone stops beside him just a little too close, bumping his briefcase into Danny's leg.
"I do love a good Holmes quote," the man says in a heavy Russian accent. 'The world is full of obvious things,'" he adds, trailing off as if he can't remember the rest.
"'Which nobody by any chance ever observes,'" Danny finishes for him. Because he might not be a fan of the tourist trap, but he'd wanted to be a detective almost from birth. He knows his Holmes.
"That is right," the man says, sounding far too happy that Danny knew the end. "Thank you."
Danny tells him he's welcome absently, too busy watching Grace. "Grace," he calls out after a minute, "do not put that pipe in your mouth, or I will wash your mouth out with soap."
She rolls her eyes at him, but she puts the pipe down and comes back to his side. "Can we go get dinner now?"
"Sure," Danny says, taking her hand. He turns, and nearly trips over the Russian's briefcase.
"Is that yours?" Grace asks.
Danny shakes his head. "No, but I think it's out to get me," he mutters. He looks up and sees the man who'd been carrying it just disappearing down the stairs. "Let's go find the owner," Danny says, grabbing the case and maneuvering through the crowd, Grace in tow.
He sees the man headed out the door just as they get to the top of the stairs. By the time Danny and Grace get out the door, the man is halfway down the block, headed for Baker Street Station. Since it's their destination, too, Danny follows.
He has the man in sight until they get into the station itself. Danny had called out a few times, but the man had been one of the few people who hadn't turned to stare at him. He'd just continued on his way.
They follow him through the turnstiles onto the platform, where he gets onto a train. Danny and Grace barely make it onto the train before the doors close, both a little out of breath.
"Danno, why were we in such a hurry?"
"Because I have this briefcase that belongs to that nice man over--"
Danny looks where he could've sworn the man was, by the next set of doors, but there's no sign of him. He checks the rest of the train, but there's still no sign.
"What man?" Grace asks.
"Apparently the invisible one," Danny says, looking down at the case. He can see now that there's no visible way to open it. Maybe he can open it when they get back to his room and see if there's some sort of ID inside.
After dinner with Grace, Danny drops her off at her grandparents' with a hug and promises for dinner "somewhere cool" next time. He stops for one drink at the hotel bar before going up to his room and staring at the case. He hadn't wanted to take it to the police station just yet--he knows from experience how lost and found cases tended to get treated in most stations, and he doesn't expect London to be any different. If he can't find information on the owner, he'll take it to the police in the morning.
He checks the seam, barely visible all the way around the case, but there's no hint of how to open it. He tries getting something between the seam to pry it open, but he's worried about damaging it.
Police station it is, then.
Placing the case on the desk, he showers and climbs into bed.
***
He's running for a double-decker bus, the bright red ones that regularly threaten his life all over town. It's not moving very fast, but every time his fingers manage to touch the pole at the door to pull himself onto the bus, it lurches forward, just out of reach.
~~~
The shift from sleeping to awake is seamless, which, Danny thinks, is good, because he instantly realizes one very important fact.
He is not alone in his room.
Whoever's in the room is good--he'll give them that. Danny doesn't really remember hearing them come in, though he suspects that woke him. They're making almost no sound even now. It's more a presence he can feel, like static electricity as you walk through a room.
He waits until whoever it is stops moving, somewhere near the desk, before flipping on the bedside lamp and sitting up in bed in one fluid motion. There's a man standing there, frozen in the dim light, hand on the briefcase Danny had left on the desk. He's tall, but dressed in all black, so it's hard to see just how big he is. Then he shifts, and Danny gets a hint of solid, compact muscle.
He stares at Danny as if uncertain what move to make, so Danny decides to break the stalemate. "You're too tall to be a ninja."
That gets a blink, and Danny thinks the shadows that are making the man's cheekbones stand out must be responsible for how long his lashes appear to be. "What?" the man asks after a few more rapid blinks.
"The whole black pajamas thing," Danny says, waving a hand up and down at the man's body, "and sneaking around other people's hotel rooms in the middle of the night. You look like you're auditioning to be a ninja."
The man does his rapid-fire blinking thing again, like a computer flashing a light while it processes. "I'm not a ninja," he says, accent clearly American now that Danny has more than one word to go on.
"This is what I'm saying," Danny replies, wondering if he can reach the knife stashed in the nightstand. The way the man is holding himself, tense and ready to spring, makes Danny think that's unwise. So he falls back on words as his defense. "You're much too tall, for one thing. And you woke me up. Plus, you didn't even wear one of those ninja mask thingies."
"You realize real ninjas never actually wore masks, right?"
"Says you," Danny replies, "but given your generally terrible job at portraying one, I'm not sure I should consider you an authority."
"The ninjas were actually called shinobi, and really, they dressed like normal people most of the time. They dressed to blend in."
Danny nods at the man's outfit. "You're not dressed to blend in," he says. "Again, total ninja fail."
He has to press his lips together to keep from laughing as the man opens and closes his mouth, blinking yet again. "But I blend into this environment," he says, waving his hand at the darkness around him. "So that makes me ninja-like."
Danny considers this for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't see it, sorry," he says. "And by the way, not that I'm not enjoying class, but did you break into my hotel room to give me a lesson on ninjas, or was there a point to your unexpected, uninvited and, I might add, illegal visit at 3 a.m.?"
A few more blinks and the man's face clears, a hint of assurance seeping into his expression. "Ah, that," he says, picking up the briefcase. "I'm afraid this was given to you by mistake. I was sent to collect it."
"How do I know it's yours?"
"Because I went through all this trouble to come get it?"
Danny shrugs. "People go through a lot of trouble trying to rob a bank, too. Doesn't make the money theirs."
The man screws up his face like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Do you always try to distract people who break into your room with confusing dialogue?"
"I don't get a great many gentlemen callers through my window at 3 a.m., honestly," Danny says. "But at least I should get some entertainment out of this before I call the police."
"I can't let you do that."
Danny cocks his head. "What, find this entertaining, or call the police?"
"Call the police." He holds up the case. "This is a matter of national security. Way above their pay grade."
"Which?"
More blinking. "Which pay grade?
"No, which nation? Seriously, you're no better at being a spy than a ninja, are you?"
"I am a very good--" The man stops and takes a breath. "Look, Mr. Williams, thank you for holding onto this--it would've been a lot harder to get from the police. But I'll take care of it from here. Anyone even knowing you had it could be dangerous for you."
"How do you know my name?"
"How do you think I found you?" He smiles, and Danny's momentarily distracted by what a nice smile it is. "Have a nice night and enjoy the rest of your vacation with your daughter," the man says before he ducks out the window.
By the time Danny gets to the window, the night has swallowed the man up, leaving only chilly air.
***
Part 2