Not Myself Today, Part 2/5
Masterpost
It’s been ages since Steve’s been in a place like this. It’s hot and stuffy and crowded; the patio is no different. There’s a slight breeze coming up from the beach, but the benefit is mostly cancelled out by the immense quantities of smoke.
Kono grabs his hand and drags him to the bar where she orders longboards for both of them. They stick close to the bar for a while, not trying to talk over the music, which would be impossible anyway, but just relaxing. The heavy beat is lulling Steve into a more relaxed state, and he can feel it sinking in, letting him forget how fucked up things are right now.
When both of their beers are empty, Kono squeezes his hand before moving out to the dance floor, the invitation open, if he wants to take it. For now, though, Steve just watches. Kono is letting go completely, and it shows. She’s soon got a crowd around her, and Steve just catches flashes of her face as people move in and out.
Steve’s about to order himself another beer when he hears a deep voice at his shoulder.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Steve swallows and makes himself turn around before answering. He’s tall, military haircut, dressed in a plain white shirt that’s half unbuttoned. Steve’s gaze catches on the sliver of chest he can see and he momentarily forgets when he’s saying. When he finally manages to move his eyes back to the guy’s face, all he can blurt out is,
“No thanks. I’m here with someone.”
It’s misleading, even if it’s not technically a lie, and the guy takes the bait.
“He’s a lucky guy, then,” he says, leaning in again so that he can be heard without shouting. Steve just barely notices the hot breath on his ear above the general heat of the place before the guy is disappearing into the crowd.
Steve orders another beer and drinks half of it in one go, Kono materializing at his side when he puts it down. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face and she elbows him in the ribs, but he purposefully doesn’t meet her eyes and keeps drinking.
Kono eventually goes back to the dance floor, but Steve sticks close to the bar all night, and the bartender keeps up a steady stream of drinks. Between the heat and the noise and the alcohol Steve isn’t feeling like himself anymore, and it’s freeing. He finally lets Kono drag him out onto the dance floor somewhere around midnight, and when he feels someone wrap themselves around him from behind he doesn’t react, even though he can see that Kono is studying him closely. He just keeps dancing. The hands on his hips are warm and sturdy, and he likes the feel of it, he can feel the heat all the way into his bones, and it’s loosening him up enough that he can close his eyes and just let himself feel.
He stays like that, dancing with his mystery partner until the beat changes too much for him to pretend it’s the same song and he breaks loose, grabs Kono’s hand and heads for the door. He doesn’t look back, he doesn't want to know what his dance partner looks like, he just wants to let the ghosts of the contact linger as long as possible.
Steve continues to hold Kono’s hand until they’re across the street and down by the water. Kono stumbles slightly as her heels dig into the sand, but she quickly rights herself and they move further down the beach, stopping only when the sand gets sturdy again beneath them and the waves threaten to hit their toes. He can still hear the pounding bass line, but it feels farther away now, the sounds of the ocean rushing up to greet him.
The lights from the hotels and clubs by the beach here are light enough that he can see the white edge of the water as it moves back and forth on the sand. The ocean is familiar, and as Steve breathes in mouthful after mouthful of the warm salty air he starts to come back to himself, and he lets go of Kono’s hand, no longer needing it to anchor himself.
She slings her arm around his waist instead, and Steve is grateful for the continued contact. They stand like that, looking out across the water, ignoring the various honeymooning couples walking the beach in their own moonlit fantasies, until Kono sneezes and the spell is broken.
“Thanks,” Steve says.
Kono giggles. “So about tomorrow night...”
“We’ll see,” Steve replies, even though he already knows the answer. He wants to come back, but he wants to do it without Kono watching over his shoulder, even though he knows that she’s just watching out for him in her way.
“That guy you were dancing with, he was cute.”
Steve feels his face heat up and looks away, even though he knows she can’t see him blush. “I never saw his face,” he admits.
Kono’s smile is wide as she starts dragging him back towards the parking lot. “I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Steve McGarrett.”
“Shut up,” he says, but he’s laughing now, too. “I’m still your boss, you know.”
“And I’d love to hear you explain to Danny and Chin why you fired me. Besides, good luck finding a replacement willing to put up with your psychotic self.”
“Hey!” Steve exclaims, voice ringing out louder than he’d meant it to. “I found Danny, didn’t I?”
“And he punched you in the face the first day you worked with him. I don’t see you threatening to fire him.”
Kono’s tone is light, but her words touch the edges of the truth. Steve will never fire Danny, because he can’t. He just can’t. And it’s not because no one else will work for him. He can’t find a direct comeback that doesn’t betray whatever it is he’s feeling, so he changes the subject and Kono doesn’t call him on it.
They talk about everything else on the way back to Steve’s place.
Walking up the stairs to his bedroom, Steve’s legs feel heavier than normal, but his head is clear and he’s tired. He opens his windows to catch the breeze, but pulls the sheet up around his shoulders. The ghost of the heat and touch from the club is almost too much sensation on his skin.
He forces himself to focus on the arrhythmic sounds of the breeze and the waves and eventually manages to fall into a dreamless sleep.
***
Saturday is Steve’s first day off since this whole thing started, and for all that he wants to just sit and do nothing, he knows that way lies madness. He’s put one too many things on the back-burner and now he needs a distraction before he loses his mind.
Instead, he focuses on things that need doing around the house. He fixes some minor pieces of the façade of the house, pulls up some weeds from the lawn, sweeps the entire house, and does all of his laundry.
When he’s run out of legitimate things to do in the house (Steve would have considered some minor remodeling more if it didn’t require him to go out shopping), he grabs a beer and heads for the beach, sinking his toes into the sun-warm sand and closing his eyes. He’s finally starting to relax when he hears a car in the drive and scowls into his beer.
He’s pretty sure it’s Kono, stopping by to convince him to go out with her again. Steve stays put, wondering if she’ll leave if she pokes around the house and finds that it’s empty. He should be so lucky.
Sure enough, a shadow falls over his chest and he opens his eyes to scowl at her.
“If you don’t get out of my sun, you’re fired.”
“Funny, Boss,” Kono says, not budging an inch. She holds up the bag she’s carrying. “I brought you some stuff.”
“You’re not about to give me a makeover, are you? I can barely figure out how to do my hair as it is.”
“Of course not!” Kono exclaims. “Well, maybe a little bit.”
Steve makes a big show of shaking his head and sighing, but doesn’t make any further move, and Kono eventually sits down in the other chair, kicking her shoes off and digging her toes into the sand.
“Are you going back tonight?”
“Maybe,” Steve says. “I haven’t thought about it much.”
Kono gives him a look; she probably knows he’s lying, but she doesn’t question it, and it’s at that moment that Steve knows that he’ll probably end up telling her what he’s thinking anyway.
“All right!” Steve throws up his hands, punctuating his point.
Kono gives him yet another look, one he pointedly ignores, because he doesn't want to question where he picked up that particular gesture and why he’s using it now.
“Nothing too drastic,” she says. “Just some clothes and a few odds and ends.”
Steve looks more closely at the bag now, and he can see the telltale outline of a pair of heels, along with something soft, probably the clothing Kono mentioned. There are a few other sharp corners he can see, and he has a guess about what they are, but doesn’t want to question it. He has a feeling he’ll know soon enough anyway.
“Fine,” Steve concedes, finishing his beer. “Let’s get this over with. “
“We’ll turn you into the prettiest girl at the ball.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Grace.” Steve tries to keep a straight face, and only barely succeeds. At least until he catches Kono’s all-out smile and loses it.
Steve puts on the clothes she brought for him, and then sits him down at the table and tells him to close his eyes. After what feels like forever, but is probably more like two minutes, she proclaims him done and sends him off to the bathroom to look.
And OK, he looks good. The effect is subtle, but his eyes look bigger and the green pops out more. He’s apparently looking at himself for too long because Kono comes in and slings her arm around his shoulders and starts tugging him back into the living room.
“I hate to say it,” Kono starts.
“Bullshit,” Steve says.
“You’re right. I told you so.” She picks up the shoes. “Now don’t sit down. Let’s talk shoes.”
“Kono,” Steve warns. “You said shoes or makeup.”
“No, I said you had a choice at the time. We did the makeup, so it’s time to try the shoes.”
“You don’t wear heels,” Steve points out.
“Not to work, I don’t.” Kono replies. “How stupid would I look trying to chase a suspect on four inch heels?”
Reluctantly, he slips the shoes on. He’s been getting comfortable with his body all week, but the heels force his posture out of alignment, and his balance feels off. It’s possibly also a result of the fact that he’s balancing all of his weight on an area that’s less than that of the standard penny. He shifts his foot and feels himself slipping again, so he grabs the back of the nearest chair.
“Lean forward,” Kono tells him. “Don’t balance on your heels. Balance on the balls of your feet.”
“Walk,” Kono says, coming up behind him and prod him in the back. “I’m not letting you out until you can prove to me that you’re not going to fall over in five steps. I’ve put too much into getting you to look this way and blood will just ruin it.”
Steve takes what Kono told him about where to put his weight and starts walking. Hampered by the heels, he can’t take the big strides he’s used to, and he almost overbalances a few times, but he gets the hang of it fairly quickly. Or at least enough that Kono says she’s satisfied.
“Now get out of here,” she says.
“Where are we going?” Steve asks.
Kono just smiles at him and picks up the remote. “I’m staying here to make sure you don’t chicken out. You are going back to that club.”
Steve sits down next to her on the couch.
“I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says.
“Sure you can,” she says. “I think that’s what this is about.”
“What do you mean?” Steve asks, even though he has a feeling that he knows where this is going.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” she asks, her voice quiet and even. “Dancing.”
Steve knows what she’s doing, He’s seen her use that tone on witnesses before, and it pretty much always works, gets them to calm down and trust her, and tell her what they can. Seems that recognition of the technique isn't immunity.
“I --” He’s not sure how to put everything in words, so he starts over. “Yeah.”
“Tell me you weren’t thinking about going back tonight,” she says.
“I wasn’t.”
“Which is why this place is even more spotless than usual, I’m sure,” Kono retorts. They sit in silence for a while, until Kono speaks again. “You’ve been in the Navy too long.”
She’s cutting right to the heart of everything, leaving Steve open and bleeding and feeling for the first time in way too long.
“I couldn’t, before,” he says. “Not after I saw one of my best friends kicked out when we were still in Annapolis.”
“And that’s why Danny had to pull you off that guy the other night,” Kono fills in. “It’s about being seen.”
Steve just nods. It had gotten easy over the years, especially after he met Catherine, who was was there when he needed her, gone when he didn’t and didn’t press him to talk about anything.
“But now you can, Steve.” She shifts closer to him on the couch, tucking her legs up behind her and laying her arm around his shoulder. “And no one will know. Even if someone sees you, it doesn’t matter, because you're not you right now.”
“Kono,” he warns. It’s the exact opposite of what he’d nearly had to burn into Danny’s arm.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” she says, not the least bit sorry for the phrasing. “You can do this. And you really don’t need me around butting in.”
“But you do it so well.”
Kono smiles before giving him a shove towards the door. “Go on, get out!”
He doesn’t know the name of the club Kono took him to last night, but he remembers where it is, and he heads back there, parking the car a few blocks down, taking advantage of the nearly-empty block to once again get the feel of his shoes. It takes about a block before he’s walking smoothly, stride increasing in length and speed as he goes. He’s nearly there when he realizes that he’s excited about this. He’ll never be able to tell Kono just how grateful he is for her, he’s glad that tonight it’s just him.
It’s still relatively early, and the club isn’t full yet, and so Steve gets in without any problems, going straight to the bar and ordering a beer.
“Let me get that.”
The voice comes from somewhere over Steve’s left shoulder, and he turns, forcing himself to count to ten before responding, giving himself time to actually think about what he’s doing instead of just going with the first thing that comes to his head, which, frankly, is to run out as fast as the damn heels will let him.
“Thanks,” he says instead, putting his wallet back in his pocket.
“So are you here by yourself tonight?” the guy asks.
And suddenly Steve can place him as the guy he’d turned down last night, and he turns to get a better look.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Justin,” the guy says, “I didn’t catch your name last night.”
Steve’s brain freezes. Somehow, despite having Kono rip into the farthest corners of his mind without breaking a sweat, they forgot to give him a new name. His first instinct is to say Stevette, as he’s gotten used to Danny throwing it at him in random moments, but he doesn’t think Justin would get the joke. And besides, Steve suddenly wants to keep that one just between him and Danny. So he pulls a random name out of the hat.
“I’m Jaime,” he says, forcing himself not to cringe as he says it. The last Jaime he knew was of of his SEAL teammates. At least it’s a name that works, Steve concludes.
“So, what brings you to Hawaii?” Justin asks, leaning back against the bar. He’s a tall guy, even with Steve in these damned heels, but when he leans back it puts Steve on the higher ground, and he’s more comfortable with that.
“Visiting family.” It’s partly true, anyway. “My brother moved out here a few years ago. What about you?”
And then Justin’s talking about his assignment at Pearl Harbor, that he’s been here for a few months, and is just starting to get used to the beaches out here.
“So, I take it you’re not a surfer?” Steve teases him, smiling softly despite himself. The music is too loud, and they’re standing too close, closer than Steve normally would feel comfortable with, but his head is clear, and he’s actually having fun.
“You should give me a lesson sometime,” Justin says.
Steve’s heart races a bit, but he keeps his breathing under control an just says, “Maybe.”
After another few drinks, Justin pulls Steve out onto the dance floor. He’s holding Steve’s hand, and the one point of contact burns between them, as the beat and the noise from everyone around them hits Steve all at once. It’s invigorating, but it overwhelms him pretty quickly tonight without Kono to be an anchor point, and so after a few songs he drags Justin with him out into the cooler air and towards the beach.
As soon as they hit the sand, Steve pauses to take off the shoes because he knows that he’s going to go down quickly otherwise, as he’s just barely got the hang of the heels on solid ground, and he doesn’t want Justin to see that. He has to let go of Justin’s hand to do it, and as he’s fiddling with the shoes he feels Justin’s hand on his shoulder.
Once Steve’s feet are bare and he’s standing up straight again, he realizes that he’s now a few inches shorter and that he has to look up to meet Justin’s eyes. For a split second he has a sudden realization that this is what Danny has to do all the time before he forces all thoughts of Danny out of his head and challenges Justin to a race to the water.
Steve wins, but just barely.
This is where he’s most comfortable, where he can both feel and hear the ocean, and so he grabs Justin’s hand again, taking a few steps down the beach, parallel to the water, and pulling Justin with him. They only get a few steps before Steve starts laughing.
“What?” Justin asks. He sounds hurt, even though Steve isn’t laughing at him at all, just at how ridiculous this whole situation is.
He can’t explain everything, so he focuses on the most immediate part. “I was just thinking what a cliché this is,” he says. “I never thought I’d be taking a moonlit stroll with a guy on the beach.” Steve is looking at the sand as he says it, not wanting to look up, but Justin stops and turns to face Steve.
Justin puts his hand on Steve’s cheek, and Steve feels as though the situation is about to swallow him whole.
“May I?” Justin asks, and Steve just nods before tilting his head up and closing his eyes.
The first touch of Justin’s lips is electric, and Steve gasps, gripping Justin’s arm so that he doesn’t fall over or worse, run away. The kiss is slow and soft, just their lips moving against each other, and Steve loses track of his heart beat, his breathing, everything but the sounds of the ocean and the feel of Justin against him. Eventually he has to pull away, but he tucks himself against Justin’s side so that they can continue on down the beach.
***
Once again, it’s fuck-off o’clock on Sunday morning when Kono calls him.
“Fuck off,” he tells her. He got home way too late last night and had been counting on getting more than a scant few hours of sleep.
“Not a chance. We missed surfing last weekend, so we’re going now. So get your ass out of bed. I'm on my way; be there in ten minutes.”
At this point, Steve knows not to go against Kono when she’s this determined, so he throws on his new suit and a pair of shorts and he’s downstairs on the lanai when she pulls into the driveway. After strapping his board to the rack on Kono’s car, he climbs in to find that she’s brought coffee for them both.
“So how’d it go with Mr. Tall, Dark, and not-as-scary-as-you?”
It’s a good thing Steve hadn’t yet attempted to take a sip of said coffee because it would have just ended up plastered all over the window.
“The hell, Kono?”
“I followed you,” she says, like it’s not a big deal.
“You followed me.”
“I already told you that, but you haven’t answered my question,” Kono points out. “Are you going to see him again?”
Steve thinks it over. They’d exchanged numbers before parting ways outside the club, but as nice as last night had been, he wasn’t sure what to do now. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe.”
“That’s the same maybe you gave me yesterday when I asked you about the club.”
Steve doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he says nothing and drinks his coffee. This early there are few cars on the road, but the traffic increases incrementally as they near the beach. There are already some people in the water by the time they park and drag their boards out, but it’s not crowded, and the waves are good.
They stay out on the beach almost all day, rotating out every so often to warm up and grab water or food from the shacks set up nearby.
“Do I have to beat it out of you?” Kono asks him at some point mid-afternoon. They’re sitting on towels close to the water’s edge, watching some of the more stupid tourists wipe out.
“What is there to say?” Steve asks. “He’s a nice guy, works on base.”
“Do you really not know what I’m asking?” Kono says, taking a swig of her water. “What happened when you left the club?”
“We went for a walk on the beach.”
Kono starts giggling madly. “Of all people, I never thought you would turn into the Hawaiian tourist cliché. Moonlit walks on the beach. Danny’s going to lose it when I tell him.”
Steve elbows her sharply. “You wouldn’t.”
“Ouch!" She's smiling, though, so Steve knows she's just protesting because she can. "Try putting me on babysitting duty again and see what happens.”
Her tone is light, but Steve has a feeling that she actually would do it. If nothing else then for laughs, because Danny’s reaction would be nothing less than explosive.
“I kissed him,” Steve finally says.
“Look at you, brah!” Kono exclaims. She’s smiling widely, and Steve looks away. “What else?”
“That’s it.” Steve shrugs. “We stayed out on the beach for a while, he walked me to my car and I came home.”
“So when are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. I said I’d call.”
“So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Going to call?”
“Maybe.” And really, that’s all Steve can give her, because he hasn’t decided if he wants to see Justin again.
Thankfully, she drops the subject, and they head back out into the water. They don’t leave the beach until much later.
“You should call him,” Kono tells Steve as she drops him off at home. “It’s probably not going to be a long-term thing, but why not have a little bit of fun?”
He doesn’t answer, but as she drives away Steve can see her smile. The first thing he does is go upstairs to rinse off the sand and saltwater and change into something that’s not his suit.
When he’s put himself back together, the sun is just going down, and Steve grabs a beer and heads out to the lanai, deliberately leaving his phone in the kitchen. This had been so easy with Catherine. She’d call him or he’d call her if they knew they’d be in the same area for any given amount of time. Steve doesn’t want to lead Justin on, but whatever is happening can’t happen forever. (Steve does not even want to think of the possibility that it could, because if he does he’ll go crazy. Well, more crazy. Danny is constantly accusing him of being off his rocker already.)
But how many times has he done this from the other side? Spent a week in port, hooked up with a girl a few times then left? OK, maybe he hasn’t, but that’s only because for some reason he’s got Catherine. His teammates, however, have always been a different story. Hell, even Danny’s occasionally come back on Monday morning with story that doesn’t involve Grace.
So maybe it’s not completely out of the question, that this could be just a quick fling. And maybe there was something to the cliched Hawaiian romantic getaway thing, because last night had been fun.
It can wait until morning, though, because it’s peaceful out here, and Steve doesn’t want to move just yet. Which, of course, is when his phone starts ringing.
Steve vaults to answer it before it goes to voicemail just in case it's Justin, because he hadn’t bothered to change the message in the hopes that he’s wake up some morning and find himself changed back into himself. In his rush, he doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering.
“I’m on my way over,” Danny says. “With longboards.” And then he hangs up, leaving Steve no room to protest the invasion, which he definitely wants to do, after the way Danny had blown off their plans for the weekend. Then again, it’s not like he’d be able to do anything anyway.
The door’s unlocked, so when Danny does show up, he comes right in without bothering to knock. Steve’s back out on the lanai and Danny finds him pretty quickly, handing over two things immediately: a beer and a piece of printer paper folded in half. Steve takes a gulp of the beer gratefully, as his own has just run out, then he looks at the paper.
“It’s from Grace,” Danny explains, sitting down. “I told her you were sick this weekend and she made me promise to bring it over before going home.”
“Right,” Steve says. He can understand why Danny didn't want him to see Grace, but it doesn’t mean he’s not pissed off that Danny didn’t even try to see if Grace would understand.
When he does unfold the paper, he finds that it’s a get well card, with a picture of brightly colored fish and two people swimming. He assumes that it’s him in the picture, partly because Grace knows her Danno’s stance on swimming, but mostly because he’s got black hair.
“Tell her thanks,” Steve says, tucking the card under one of the cushions on the chair so that it doesn’t blow away.
The silence is awkward after that. Steve has no idea why Danny isn’t talking, because normally Steve can’t get him to stop.
“How was the weekend?” Steve finally asks, because there’s nothing else to do at this point but make small talk.
“Fine,” Danny says.
Steve drinks about half the beer in one go. It shouldn’t be this awkward, but it is, and he doesn’t have a clue where to poke Danny to get him going again, even though he really should.
“So, where’s Grace now? Don’t you normally have her until Monday mornings?”
Steve probably should have seen the explosion coming, because Grace is Danny’s favorite thing in the world, and anything that keeps him from spending time with her causes bad reactions.
“There’s some project for school that Rachel just had to do with her because she’d promised to help. Apparently I’m not good enough to help my own daughter with a school project, even though I moved my entire life out to this god damned island for her.”
There’s not really anything to say to that, because it’s nothing that Steve hasn’t heard thousands of times before tonight.
“You should put that card on your fridge before you forget,” Danny says, after a pause. “Or next time I bring Grace over here you can explain why it’s not displayed prominently for everyone to see, and I claim no responsibility for the consequences.”
Steve lets out a breath at the way Danny just assumes that Grace will see his fridge at some point in the near future, and that she’ll be disappointed when her artwork isn’t featured. He’s not sure exactly why this particular assumption is affecting him quite so much, so he picks up the card and carries it inside. He puts it on the fridge for now, and tells himself that he will eventually get it framed just to see Danny’s reaction at his daughter’s card hanging on Steve’s wall.
The bright colors of the card remind Steve of the contrast between what his life was before the Five-0 (before Danny) and what it is now, where he has friends that aren’t just other members of his unit and a family that he’s built himself. That’s what it is, Steve realizes. Ohana.
He cracks another two bottles before heading back out to the lanai, smiling, and it seems that his sudden good mood is contagious because when he gets there Danny’s bad mood seems to have evaporated.
“Admit it,” Steve says. “You like this island.” It’s a challenge, and Danny’s never been able to back down from a challenge.
“I do not like this island. It’s too hot, there are too many damned beaches filled with tourists and boys who would love nothing more than to see my daughter in a bikini, too many pineapples and too many people trying to kill me on a regular basis. You, my friend,” he points at Steve, “are included in the list of people trying to kill me, by the way.”
“No one took a shot at us this week,” Steve protests.
“Your driving is literally going to get me killed. Did they not teach you which pedal makes the car stop when you learned to drive? Or did the SEALs teach you to just ignore it at all costs in some sort of misguided brainwashing attempt?”
“First thing they teach us is how to switch off the safety on a gun,” Steve says, laughing. “I already knew how to drive when I joined up.”
“So driving is lesson number two. And don’t you dare tell me anything different, McGarrett. I know when you’re lying to me.”
Eventually they move inside and Steve tosses some fish on the grill and rounds out dinner with salad and rice, provoking Danny to complain that it’s so healthy it has to be terrible for you, how can anyone out here survive on nothing but greens and fish?
“Malasadas,” Steve reminds him, and grins as Danny finishes off his entire plate. He neglects to mention that the dressing for the salad contains pineapple juice. Especially after he catches Danny wiping up the last few drops from his plate and licking it off his fingers.
***
Monday morning starts like most Mondays, with lots of coffee, half a dozen malasadas shared around, and a lot of loud yelling and crashes coming from Danny’s office. Well, it’s mostly yelling, Steve observes, lots of four letter words and most likely a lot of waving his arms around.
Which is exactly how Steve catches him at 11:30 when he desperately needs coffee and there’s been a particularly loud bang from Danny’s office that probably will result in either a work order or a requisition for a new piece of office furniture.
And Danny thinks that Steve is high maintenance.
Steve has barely opened the door before Danny is on his feet and coming around the desk saying, “Yes, let’s go.”
“You don’t know where we’re going,” Steve points out.
“I don’t care. It’s somewhere that’s not this office where there are no mile-high stacks of paperwork waiting for me. I’d also say something about leaving the psychotic boss behind except that he’s coming with me.”
Steve doesn’t respond, because it’s an argument that they have at least twice weekly, without ever resolving it. Instead, he gets the last word by starting to move the car before Danny’s door is completely closed, prompting yet another round of Were you dropped on your head as a child? The purpose of the car door is to keep the people inside of it, which, just in case you forget, is you and me, safe while you ram a 3,000 pound machine through the city during rush hour. Starting to move the car before the door is closed defeats the purpose of this basic safety mechanism, and it would be a shame for either of us to be killed pulling out of the parking lot when we’re involved in deadly shoot-outs at least once a week.
They’re just pulling out onto the road when Steve’s phone rings. A quick look at the caller ID reveals that it’s Justin on the line and Steve bites back his reaction because he can’t let it go to voicemail, but he really, really doesn’t want Danny listening in on this conversation. There’s nothing he can do, though, so he answers it.
“Hi,” Justin says. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Steve winces. Something of his reluctance to answer must have come through the line.
“I’m running out for coffee,” Steve says.
“Wish I could join you,” Justin replies.
Steve is immensely grateful that he can’t, because he wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily explain the guns, the badges or Danny. And like hell would Danny stay in the damn car.
“Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner tonight.”
Steve hesitates and glances over at Danny. He’s obviously trying to listen to the entire conversation, and there’s a weird look on his face that Steve can’t quite pinpoint, though he’s familiar with pretty much all of Danny’s expressions by now (even if he’s not sure Danny knows he’s that easily read). On the other hand, Steve doesn’t live his life according to how Danny is going to react, so he finally says,
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
They set a time and a place for dinner, and Steve very wisely doesn’t look at Danny when he hangs up the phone.
“What was that?” Danny asks.
“I’m not allowed to have personal calls during work hours?”
“If that’s what I think it was, Steven, then you’re more crazy than I thought. And let me tell you, I already thought you needed to be locked up.”
“It’s not what you think.” Even though it probably is exactly what Danny thinks.
“You were making a date. A date with a guy. On a weeknight. You are certifiable. Give me that phone, I’m looking up directions for the nearest psychiatric ward and you are driving there and signing in voluntarily. What the hell are you thinking?”
“Suddenly I’m not allowed to have a personal life?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Jackass.”
“Then what are you saying? Because it sounds to me like you’re telling me I don’t get to have a personal life. Or maybe it’s just during work hours, but I gotta point out that you’ve never kept it off-hours.”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Steven.”
“Then tell me what the hell you’re saying.”
“You just made a date. With a guy.”
“I hear that’s something that women do occasionally.”
“You!” Danny’s hands are waving around at light speed, and if Steve wasn’t so used to it by now it would be incredibly distracting. “You are not a woman! Unless you have been brainwashed in the last three days, you should not be referring to yourself as one. Much less making dates with guys that you cannot see past whenever this ends. This is a recipe for disaster with extra pineapple.”
Steve knows that Danny really is trying to look out for him, in his own twisted, very loud way but he doesn’t want it. Instead of actually saying any of this, he just asks, “Pineapple?”
“Pineapple. The most evil fruit of all time. And Grace is starting to like the vile stuff. Traitor.”
“She’s got good taste,” Steve says, deadpan, very happy to have steered the conversation away from his upcoming date. And the timing is perfect because they’re now at the coffee shop, and Danny is climbing out of the car as soon as it stops moving. Steve lets himself sit still and breathe for a minute. He texts Kono that he needs her help after work, and to please not talk about it in front of Danny before climbing out of the car himself and following Danny inside.
Thankfully, Danny drops the subject and just gives Steve and Kono a glare as they leave a few minutes early.
***
Steve is unaccountably nervous as he drives downtown to meet Justin. He’s been on dates before, so technically there should be nothing new here. Well, he’s not sure that his almost-dinners with Catherine would count as dates in anyone else’s book, but there had been instances before Catherine. Not many proper dates since his days at Annapolis, but Steve hasn’t exactly been a monk, especially in the last year or so.
Nevertheless there’s a weird, fluttery pit somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach and he’s not quite sure what to do other than grip the wheel tighter and try not to get himself killed before he gets to the restaurant. Danny would be horrified at how safely he’s driving right now; no running red lights, no stunt turns, just Steve trying to get to the other side in one piece, and without causing destruction behind him.
At least three times during the drive he asks himself what the fuck he’s doing, going on this date, (Danny’s words from earlier conveniently echoing each time he goes back to the question) but at this point he’s more afraid of what Kono will do if he backs out. She put a considerable amount of work into getting him put together and out the door and she’ll probably be waiting for him when he gets back.
Because he is going to make it home without killing anyone and not slam into the car in front of him because his mind is wandering and the light turned red, damnit!
He’s a few minutes late by the time he gets there. Kono had gotten bolder in her clothing and makeup choices for the evening, and as a result Steve left the house later than he’d wanted to, wearing dark skinny jeans and a shimmery top, some bracelets, a pair of Kono’s sandals that were little more than a sole and a few narrow strings to keep them on his feet, and too much makeup. She’d even threatened to pierce his ears, but Steve drew the line at permanent body modifications. Well, aside from his tattoos, but they had meanings beyond my life is fucked up, I’m in the wrong body, and I want to look good for a first date that’s never going to be anything more than a few dates. She hadn’t fought all that hard for them anyway. Though her strategy became clear once she got Steve to sit still for the makeup: what’s a bit of mascara compared to poking holes through his flesh?
Steve smooths down his shirt unnecessarily and grips the clutch Kono had given him for the evening to store his phone, keys, bank card and some cash. He can’t fit his 5-0 badge in there, but it’s sitting in a pocket in the door of his truck. He feels oddly naked without it on him. It’s become his identity since he came back to the Islands and he’s not sure he knows how to leave it behind, even for a night.
When Steve finally walks in the door, Justin is standing just inside waiting for him. Steve isn’t sure of the proper greeting, as they barely know each other, but Justin solves that problem by leaning in to give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. Steve smiles at him, even though his stomach is clenched even tighter now, and follows the hostess through the main dining room and out to the patio, where the tables are a bit more spread out, and the air is a lot thinner and less prone to choking him. He takes a deep breath and sits down, only noticing belatedly that Justin is halfway around the table, reaching out to get his chair.
“Sorry,” Steve winces, feeling as though he’s violated some sort of protocol he wasn’t aware of; he's always been on the other side. But Justin just goes back to his own chair and sits down, smiling at Steve.
“Don’t worry about it.”
And just like that the weird tension is gone. With Justin at an arm’s length, Steve is better equipped to deal with the situation. For most of the conversation, he can just pretend that they’re good friends out to dinner. Except for when Steve attempts to cross his legs under the table and awkwardly bumps Justin’s knees because he’s not used to the motion, or when Justin occasionally reaches out and touches Steve’s hand, even though he’s keeping them pretty close to his edge of the table or when the lighting is just right on Justin’s face and Steve has stop himself from staring before realizing that he’s allowed to look.
Through all of it, though they keep talking comfortably about any number of topics. Justin tells Steve about his previous posting on an aircraft carrier, (and Steve has to bite back talking about his time in the Navy, because as far as Justin is concerned, Steve’s just in Hawaii visiting family.)
Steve talks about his imaginary brother, who recently went through a bitter divorce then followed her out to Hawaii so he could visit his daughter more than twice a year. By the time dessert arrives, Steve has apparently waxed on enough about his “niece” that Justin decides she sounds like a good kid, and if she wants a tour of a navy boat, Steve should bring her over sometime soon. Which is where Steve realizes that he may have gotten a bit carried away talking about his fake niece and that if he tries to borrow Gracie for an afternoon to actually follow through with the offer, Danno will kill him. Or insist on coming with, which is probably the worst of the two options, and Steve thinks about excusing himself quickly to the bathroom so that he can bash his head against a wall in relative privacy.
When he sees the server approaching with their check, Steve has a hot internal debate on whether he should offer to pay for it, because he’s always done it before on first dates, but that was before he switched bodies, and he remembers how much he hated girls who didn’t even try, but that’s his personal preference, and he knows plenty of guys who hate girls who fight for the check, and he’s not sure where Justin falls on the issue, because it’s not really something you can outright ask. He still hasn’t made up his mind by the time she arrives at the table.
And hands the bill directly to Justin, circumventing the immediate issue. Which of course just leads Steve to question whether he should speak up and offer to at least pay the tip. He starts to reach for the clutch, but Justin grabs his hand, holding it firmly in a grip that is absolutely not making Steve’s heart beat just a little bit faster.
“Don’t even think about it,” Justin says, and with the indecision gone, Steve relaxes a fraction, but doesn’t pull his hand away.
Once everything is cleared away, they linger over the last of the bottle of wine until it’s completely gone, and Steve keeps looking at his glass wondering if it would be polite to attempt to get the last few drops from the bottom. If he were at home or out with the team he wouldn’t hesitate, but it’s probably not the best thing to do now.
Something must have showed on his face, because Justin gets up and starts walking around the table, and this time Steve forces himself to sit still and let Justin pull out his chair, even though he’s itching to just stand up on his own. As they walk out, Justin puts his hand on the small of Steve’s back. Justin’s not pushing him anywhere, not laying claim to him; it’s just a small gesture, one that Steve can easily twist to avoid if he wants, but he likes it, and the contact remains until Steve stops at his car.
“I have a better idea,” Justin says.
“Better than what?” he asks.
“Better than us saying goodnight here in the parking lot.” Justin brings a hand up to rest on Steve’s shoulder, thumb hitting the skin just behind his ear causing Steve to shiver a bit.
He bites his lip, debating. It would be easy to just say goodnight and go home, but the fact is that he does like Justin. Their conversation has been flowing freely and easily all night, and even though he has to work in the morning, he’s the boss so he can show up as late as he wants anyway.
Justin continues before Steve actually responds. “I know a beach not far from here, pretty secluded, and it’ll be empty on a Monday night.”
Steve is pretty sure he knows which beach Justin’s talking about. It’s popular with the local couples, but Justin’s right, Monday isn’t exactly a hot date night, so it’ll probably be empty.
“Unless you have to get back?” Justin asks. He’s giving Steve an out, which Steve realizes he doesn’t want.
“No,” he says. “Let’s go. I love the beach.”
“I thought so,” Justin laughs, and pulls back, letting Steve follow him to his car.
The drive takes about twenty minutes; Steve knows he can make it in twelve, but he’s not the one driving, and Justin is relatively new to the Island, and makes a few bad turns on the way. He obviously knows where they’re going, but even though Steve knows a better route to avoid traffic, he keeps his mouth closed, remembering that he’s supposedly just visiting and shouldn’t have a local knowledge of the place built partly on childhood memories but mostly on the last year’s worth of driving all over town chasing drug lords and smugglers. He deliberately avoids even thinking about the rest of it because he doesn’t want to ruin the night.
When they get to beach, there aren’t any other cars in sight, and Steve is glad that Kono didn’t go all out on him and make him wear heels again tonight, because the path down to the sand is narrow and steep in places, and overgrown with large, leafy tropical plants through most of it. When they finally get down by the water Steve’s eyes have adjusted to the low light and he can make out the familiar curves of the beach and see where the water is breaking onto the sand. He drops Justin’s hand, that he’d forgotten he was holding and walks down to the water, sitting down and fiddling with the sandals so he can push his bare toes into it. Justin sits down next to him and doesn’t even complain when the next wave comes up higher than usual and rushes around them, half-soaking them.
“I’ve always loved the beach,” Steve says, stopping just short of adding a tell-tale here to the end of it.
“I grew up in Chicago,” Justin says. “The beach up there is fine, but it’s not the ocean.”
Steve just nods, and lets Justin take his hand again. He remembers a trip they took from Annapolis to Lake Ontario one weekend when he was still in school. He remembers the long stretch of beach that was similar on the surface, but lacking the fresh, salty ocean air. Even Annapolis, which was right on the bay lacked the same freshness as the beaches here at home, and Steve could never satisfactorily explain it to anyone, though he suspected that one of his roommates from California understood more than the rest.
Justin lets go of Steve’s hand and pulls his shirt over his head.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.
“Going swimming,” Justin says, standing up and walking up the beach so he can deposit his clothes in a safe spot. Steve follows suit, mostly because he can never resist a swim.
By the time Steve gets up to where Justin is on the beach, Justin has shed all of his clothing, leaving them in a heap at his feet. Steve catches a glimpse of his naked form and looks away quickly. Before Steve can analyze that particular reaction, aside from the fact that it’s an issue he’s never had before tonight, Justin is running back to the water calling out “Last one in!” and literally throwing his body at the waves.
Steve drops his pants and shirt and struggles with the bra a bit, cursing the damn thing before flinging it aside and running for the water. As soon as it’s deep enough for him to swim comfortably he dives under and takes a few strokes out to where it’s just too deep to stand comfortably, and treads water easily, turning back towards the beach where Justin is still standing in waist deep water.
“You were saying?” Steve calls, and moves further out as Justin dives in to chase him.
The feeling of the water pouring over every inch of his body is nothing short of sublime; it’s a feeling that Steve has never gotten used to, not since the first time he snuck out with his high school friends for a beach party. He hopes he never does.
He’s lost in thought enough that Justin is able to swim up behind him, grab him by the shoulders and push him under briefly. Steve comes up spluttering and kicks out hard, following after Justin to get revenge, mentally thanking himself for keeping up his swimming in the last week. When he gets there he wraps his legs around Justin from the back and rolls backwards hard, dunking him and then using the leverage to spring away again, swimming fast, but not fast enough to actually get away. He doesn’t really want to.
The next time Justin grabs him, it’s not to inflict the next move in their game. Instead he wraps his arms around Steve’s stomach and pulls him in close, just holding him there and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t fight it, just lets himself float, with Justin holding him and treading water to keep their heads above the waves. Steve can feel the heat pouring off Justin’s body, and the sharp contrast to the cool of the water around them, and it’s slowly driving him mad, so he gently breaks Justin’s hold on his waist and lets his legs drift up until he’s floating on his back, still mostly submerged. He’s using Justin’s upper body as a lounge chair, his arms on top of Justin’s, his head pillowed on Justin’s shoulder, looking up at the mostly dark sky. Even out here they can’t escape the noise pollution of the city completely.
They stay like that for a long time, drifting a bit with the waves, Justin’s thumbs tracing nonsense patterns over Steve’s hand.
Without thinking about it, Steve turns his head and kisses Justin gently on the lips.
The angle’s awkward, and it leaves him kicking a bit to maintain his position in the water, but he doesn’t move. Instead, Justin adjusts around him and kisses back, harder, opening up and letting Steve fall into him. He tastes like the ocean, salty, and it’s overloading all of Steve’s senses to be this surrounded by it, as if he’s about to lose himself and melt into the water.
He wants more, so he breaks the position and flips around, gripping at Justin’s shoulders now, feeling Justin’s hands go to his waist, thumbs still moving in small circles on whichever piece of Steve’s skin he’s managed to find.
Steve can no longer feel the up and down motion of the waves as much, but the surface of the water is dancing around his neck, sometimes higher, sometimes lower, adding to the sensory overload and he groans, moving his body closer to Justin’s and tangling their legs together as they both tread water gently to keep their heads above the surface. Steve hasn’t lost his mind completely and he’s pretty sure he doesn't want to drown tonight. Well, at least not physically.
One of Justin’s hands starts moving, from Steve’s waist to his hip to the small of his back, up his spine, back down. Steve loses track of exactly where Justin’s hands are, except that they’re warm, and they’re leaving trails of heat on his skin, causing him to breathe faster into Justin’s mouth, and tighten his grip on Justin’s shoulders for leverage. The water rushes in to cool down and fill all the places Justin’s hands leave behind. It’s perfect out here, weightless in the water; the only things Steve can hear over the rush of blood through his veins is Justin’s breathing and the ebb and flow of the ocean.
Justin’s hand moves up Steve’s side, fingers trailing over his ribcage and thumb grazing the underside of his breast, circling up until it brushes across Steve’s nipple, causing a jolt of electricity to race down his spine.
He pushes back, away, breathing hard and he strikes out for the shore, not looking back for Justin’s reaction. All he knows is that he needs to get out of the water and get back to his own home, back to more familiar surroundings. Steve swims as long as he can effectively stroke before standing up and sprinting up the beach, not bothering to stop and shake off more water than the can during his short run. He’s mastered the art of dressing quickly, and by the time Justin reaches him he’s fully dressed except for the damned bra, which he’s folded in on itself as small as he can make it and is clenching it in one fist.
Justin looks puzzled as Steve manages to politely ask to be driven back to his car and dresses quickly while Steve wrestles the straps of the sandals back into place with shaky fingers. The silence and stillness of the beach is spoiled by tension as the climb back up the path to Justin’s car, and they don’t speak on the way back into town. Steve crosses his arms over his chest and shrinks back into the passenger seat and tries not to study Justin’s profile to look for his reaction.
When they get back to the restaurant parking lot Steve fumbles open the door before Justin can throw the car into park and scrabbles for Kono’s clutch where he left it in the door. He manages to blurt out a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before shutting Justin’s door.
He fumbles his keys and goddamnit, Justin is so perfectly polite that of course he’d wait until Steve proves that his car will start and will get him home, and so it feels like forever until he feels the engine turn over and roar to life. He throws the car into reverse and drives off quickly without bothering to buckle his seatbelt.
The routine of driving is familiar enough that concentrating on it allows Steve to start to breathe evenly again, concentrating on taking the correct turns that will eventually lead him back to his house. By the time he pulls into his driveway he’s calm enough to notice that Kono did really go home, or at least elsewhere because her car isn’t in the driveway, and that he’s not actually going to have a panic attack, even if he’s not quite ready to sort through whatever just happened.
He need either lots of alcohol or Kono’s help to get through that one, and probably both, if the past week’s been any indication.
Instead, he sheds his clothing between his bedroom door and the shower, turning it on and jumping in before it reaches optimal temperatures because it’s not the heat he’s after; it’s the pounding of the needles of water to erase the memories of the ocean and Justin’s hands from his skin. When he’s done he towels off quickly, digs through is medicine cabinet for a sleeping pill, takes two and falls into bed, forcing his mind into nothingness so he can get some sleep.
Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5
It’s been ages since Steve’s been in a place like this. It’s hot and stuffy and crowded; the patio is no different. There’s a slight breeze coming up from the beach, but the benefit is mostly cancelled out by the immense quantities of smoke.
Kono grabs his hand and drags him to the bar where she orders longboards for both of them. They stick close to the bar for a while, not trying to talk over the music, which would be impossible anyway, but just relaxing. The heavy beat is lulling Steve into a more relaxed state, and he can feel it sinking in, letting him forget how fucked up things are right now.
When both of their beers are empty, Kono squeezes his hand before moving out to the dance floor, the invitation open, if he wants to take it. For now, though, Steve just watches. Kono is letting go completely, and it shows. She’s soon got a crowd around her, and Steve just catches flashes of her face as people move in and out.
Steve’s about to order himself another beer when he hears a deep voice at his shoulder.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Steve swallows and makes himself turn around before answering. He’s tall, military haircut, dressed in a plain white shirt that’s half unbuttoned. Steve’s gaze catches on the sliver of chest he can see and he momentarily forgets when he’s saying. When he finally manages to move his eyes back to the guy’s face, all he can blurt out is,
“No thanks. I’m here with someone.”
It’s misleading, even if it’s not technically a lie, and the guy takes the bait.
“He’s a lucky guy, then,” he says, leaning in again so that he can be heard without shouting. Steve just barely notices the hot breath on his ear above the general heat of the place before the guy is disappearing into the crowd.
Steve orders another beer and drinks half of it in one go, Kono materializing at his side when he puts it down. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face and she elbows him in the ribs, but he purposefully doesn’t meet her eyes and keeps drinking.
Kono eventually goes back to the dance floor, but Steve sticks close to the bar all night, and the bartender keeps up a steady stream of drinks. Between the heat and the noise and the alcohol Steve isn’t feeling like himself anymore, and it’s freeing. He finally lets Kono drag him out onto the dance floor somewhere around midnight, and when he feels someone wrap themselves around him from behind he doesn’t react, even though he can see that Kono is studying him closely. He just keeps dancing. The hands on his hips are warm and sturdy, and he likes the feel of it, he can feel the heat all the way into his bones, and it’s loosening him up enough that he can close his eyes and just let himself feel.
He stays like that, dancing with his mystery partner until the beat changes too much for him to pretend it’s the same song and he breaks loose, grabs Kono’s hand and heads for the door. He doesn’t look back, he doesn't want to know what his dance partner looks like, he just wants to let the ghosts of the contact linger as long as possible.
Steve continues to hold Kono’s hand until they’re across the street and down by the water. Kono stumbles slightly as her heels dig into the sand, but she quickly rights herself and they move further down the beach, stopping only when the sand gets sturdy again beneath them and the waves threaten to hit their toes. He can still hear the pounding bass line, but it feels farther away now, the sounds of the ocean rushing up to greet him.
The lights from the hotels and clubs by the beach here are light enough that he can see the white edge of the water as it moves back and forth on the sand. The ocean is familiar, and as Steve breathes in mouthful after mouthful of the warm salty air he starts to come back to himself, and he lets go of Kono’s hand, no longer needing it to anchor himself.
She slings her arm around his waist instead, and Steve is grateful for the continued contact. They stand like that, looking out across the water, ignoring the various honeymooning couples walking the beach in their own moonlit fantasies, until Kono sneezes and the spell is broken.
“Thanks,” Steve says.
Kono giggles. “So about tomorrow night...”
“We’ll see,” Steve replies, even though he already knows the answer. He wants to come back, but he wants to do it without Kono watching over his shoulder, even though he knows that she’s just watching out for him in her way.
“That guy you were dancing with, he was cute.”
Steve feels his face heat up and looks away, even though he knows she can’t see him blush. “I never saw his face,” he admits.
Kono’s smile is wide as she starts dragging him back towards the parking lot. “I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Steve McGarrett.”
“Shut up,” he says, but he’s laughing now, too. “I’m still your boss, you know.”
“And I’d love to hear you explain to Danny and Chin why you fired me. Besides, good luck finding a replacement willing to put up with your psychotic self.”
“Hey!” Steve exclaims, voice ringing out louder than he’d meant it to. “I found Danny, didn’t I?”
“And he punched you in the face the first day you worked with him. I don’t see you threatening to fire him.”
Kono’s tone is light, but her words touch the edges of the truth. Steve will never fire Danny, because he can’t. He just can’t. And it’s not because no one else will work for him. He can’t find a direct comeback that doesn’t betray whatever it is he’s feeling, so he changes the subject and Kono doesn’t call him on it.
They talk about everything else on the way back to Steve’s place.
Walking up the stairs to his bedroom, Steve’s legs feel heavier than normal, but his head is clear and he’s tired. He opens his windows to catch the breeze, but pulls the sheet up around his shoulders. The ghost of the heat and touch from the club is almost too much sensation on his skin.
He forces himself to focus on the arrhythmic sounds of the breeze and the waves and eventually manages to fall into a dreamless sleep.
***
Saturday is Steve’s first day off since this whole thing started, and for all that he wants to just sit and do nothing, he knows that way lies madness. He’s put one too many things on the back-burner and now he needs a distraction before he loses his mind.
Instead, he focuses on things that need doing around the house. He fixes some minor pieces of the façade of the house, pulls up some weeds from the lawn, sweeps the entire house, and does all of his laundry.
When he’s run out of legitimate things to do in the house (Steve would have considered some minor remodeling more if it didn’t require him to go out shopping), he grabs a beer and heads for the beach, sinking his toes into the sun-warm sand and closing his eyes. He’s finally starting to relax when he hears a car in the drive and scowls into his beer.
He’s pretty sure it’s Kono, stopping by to convince him to go out with her again. Steve stays put, wondering if she’ll leave if she pokes around the house and finds that it’s empty. He should be so lucky.
Sure enough, a shadow falls over his chest and he opens his eyes to scowl at her.
“If you don’t get out of my sun, you’re fired.”
“Funny, Boss,” Kono says, not budging an inch. She holds up the bag she’s carrying. “I brought you some stuff.”
“You’re not about to give me a makeover, are you? I can barely figure out how to do my hair as it is.”
“Of course not!” Kono exclaims. “Well, maybe a little bit.”
Steve makes a big show of shaking his head and sighing, but doesn’t make any further move, and Kono eventually sits down in the other chair, kicking her shoes off and digging her toes into the sand.
“Are you going back tonight?”
“Maybe,” Steve says. “I haven’t thought about it much.”
Kono gives him a look; she probably knows he’s lying, but she doesn’t question it, and it’s at that moment that Steve knows that he’ll probably end up telling her what he’s thinking anyway.
“All right!” Steve throws up his hands, punctuating his point.
Kono gives him yet another look, one he pointedly ignores, because he doesn't want to question where he picked up that particular gesture and why he’s using it now.
“Nothing too drastic,” she says. “Just some clothes and a few odds and ends.”
Steve looks more closely at the bag now, and he can see the telltale outline of a pair of heels, along with something soft, probably the clothing Kono mentioned. There are a few other sharp corners he can see, and he has a guess about what they are, but doesn’t want to question it. He has a feeling he’ll know soon enough anyway.
“Fine,” Steve concedes, finishing his beer. “Let’s get this over with. “
“We’ll turn you into the prettiest girl at the ball.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Grace.” Steve tries to keep a straight face, and only barely succeeds. At least until he catches Kono’s all-out smile and loses it.
Steve puts on the clothes she brought for him, and then sits him down at the table and tells him to close his eyes. After what feels like forever, but is probably more like two minutes, she proclaims him done and sends him off to the bathroom to look.
And OK, he looks good. The effect is subtle, but his eyes look bigger and the green pops out more. He’s apparently looking at himself for too long because Kono comes in and slings her arm around his shoulders and starts tugging him back into the living room.
“I hate to say it,” Kono starts.
“Bullshit,” Steve says.
“You’re right. I told you so.” She picks up the shoes. “Now don’t sit down. Let’s talk shoes.”
“Kono,” Steve warns. “You said shoes or makeup.”
“No, I said you had a choice at the time. We did the makeup, so it’s time to try the shoes.”
“You don’t wear heels,” Steve points out.
“Not to work, I don’t.” Kono replies. “How stupid would I look trying to chase a suspect on four inch heels?”
Reluctantly, he slips the shoes on. He’s been getting comfortable with his body all week, but the heels force his posture out of alignment, and his balance feels off. It’s possibly also a result of the fact that he’s balancing all of his weight on an area that’s less than that of the standard penny. He shifts his foot and feels himself slipping again, so he grabs the back of the nearest chair.
“Lean forward,” Kono tells him. “Don’t balance on your heels. Balance on the balls of your feet.”
“Walk,” Kono says, coming up behind him and prod him in the back. “I’m not letting you out until you can prove to me that you’re not going to fall over in five steps. I’ve put too much into getting you to look this way and blood will just ruin it.”
Steve takes what Kono told him about where to put his weight and starts walking. Hampered by the heels, he can’t take the big strides he’s used to, and he almost overbalances a few times, but he gets the hang of it fairly quickly. Or at least enough that Kono says she’s satisfied.
“Now get out of here,” she says.
“Where are we going?” Steve asks.
Kono just smiles at him and picks up the remote. “I’m staying here to make sure you don’t chicken out. You are going back to that club.”
Steve sits down next to her on the couch.
“I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says.
“Sure you can,” she says. “I think that’s what this is about.”
“What do you mean?” Steve asks, even though he has a feeling that he knows where this is going.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” she asks, her voice quiet and even. “Dancing.”
Steve knows what she’s doing, He’s seen her use that tone on witnesses before, and it pretty much always works, gets them to calm down and trust her, and tell her what they can. Seems that recognition of the technique isn't immunity.
“I --” He’s not sure how to put everything in words, so he starts over. “Yeah.”
“Tell me you weren’t thinking about going back tonight,” she says.
“I wasn’t.”
“Which is why this place is even more spotless than usual, I’m sure,” Kono retorts. They sit in silence for a while, until Kono speaks again. “You’ve been in the Navy too long.”
She’s cutting right to the heart of everything, leaving Steve open and bleeding and feeling for the first time in way too long.
“I couldn’t, before,” he says. “Not after I saw one of my best friends kicked out when we were still in Annapolis.”
“And that’s why Danny had to pull you off that guy the other night,” Kono fills in. “It’s about being seen.”
Steve just nods. It had gotten easy over the years, especially after he met Catherine, who was was there when he needed her, gone when he didn’t and didn’t press him to talk about anything.
“But now you can, Steve.” She shifts closer to him on the couch, tucking her legs up behind her and laying her arm around his shoulder. “And no one will know. Even if someone sees you, it doesn’t matter, because you're not you right now.”
“Kono,” he warns. It’s the exact opposite of what he’d nearly had to burn into Danny’s arm.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” she says, not the least bit sorry for the phrasing. “You can do this. And you really don’t need me around butting in.”
“But you do it so well.”
Kono smiles before giving him a shove towards the door. “Go on, get out!”
He doesn’t know the name of the club Kono took him to last night, but he remembers where it is, and he heads back there, parking the car a few blocks down, taking advantage of the nearly-empty block to once again get the feel of his shoes. It takes about a block before he’s walking smoothly, stride increasing in length and speed as he goes. He’s nearly there when he realizes that he’s excited about this. He’ll never be able to tell Kono just how grateful he is for her, he’s glad that tonight it’s just him.
It’s still relatively early, and the club isn’t full yet, and so Steve gets in without any problems, going straight to the bar and ordering a beer.
“Let me get that.”
The voice comes from somewhere over Steve’s left shoulder, and he turns, forcing himself to count to ten before responding, giving himself time to actually think about what he’s doing instead of just going with the first thing that comes to his head, which, frankly, is to run out as fast as the damn heels will let him.
“Thanks,” he says instead, putting his wallet back in his pocket.
“So are you here by yourself tonight?” the guy asks.
And suddenly Steve can place him as the guy he’d turned down last night, and he turns to get a better look.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Justin,” the guy says, “I didn’t catch your name last night.”
Steve’s brain freezes. Somehow, despite having Kono rip into the farthest corners of his mind without breaking a sweat, they forgot to give him a new name. His first instinct is to say Stevette, as he’s gotten used to Danny throwing it at him in random moments, but he doesn’t think Justin would get the joke. And besides, Steve suddenly wants to keep that one just between him and Danny. So he pulls a random name out of the hat.
“I’m Jaime,” he says, forcing himself not to cringe as he says it. The last Jaime he knew was of of his SEAL teammates. At least it’s a name that works, Steve concludes.
“So, what brings you to Hawaii?” Justin asks, leaning back against the bar. He’s a tall guy, even with Steve in these damned heels, but when he leans back it puts Steve on the higher ground, and he’s more comfortable with that.
“Visiting family.” It’s partly true, anyway. “My brother moved out here a few years ago. What about you?”
And then Justin’s talking about his assignment at Pearl Harbor, that he’s been here for a few months, and is just starting to get used to the beaches out here.
“So, I take it you’re not a surfer?” Steve teases him, smiling softly despite himself. The music is too loud, and they’re standing too close, closer than Steve normally would feel comfortable with, but his head is clear, and he’s actually having fun.
“You should give me a lesson sometime,” Justin says.
Steve’s heart races a bit, but he keeps his breathing under control an just says, “Maybe.”
After another few drinks, Justin pulls Steve out onto the dance floor. He’s holding Steve’s hand, and the one point of contact burns between them, as the beat and the noise from everyone around them hits Steve all at once. It’s invigorating, but it overwhelms him pretty quickly tonight without Kono to be an anchor point, and so after a few songs he drags Justin with him out into the cooler air and towards the beach.
As soon as they hit the sand, Steve pauses to take off the shoes because he knows that he’s going to go down quickly otherwise, as he’s just barely got the hang of the heels on solid ground, and he doesn’t want Justin to see that. He has to let go of Justin’s hand to do it, and as he’s fiddling with the shoes he feels Justin’s hand on his shoulder.
Once Steve’s feet are bare and he’s standing up straight again, he realizes that he’s now a few inches shorter and that he has to look up to meet Justin’s eyes. For a split second he has a sudden realization that this is what Danny has to do all the time before he forces all thoughts of Danny out of his head and challenges Justin to a race to the water.
Steve wins, but just barely.
This is where he’s most comfortable, where he can both feel and hear the ocean, and so he grabs Justin’s hand again, taking a few steps down the beach, parallel to the water, and pulling Justin with him. They only get a few steps before Steve starts laughing.
“What?” Justin asks. He sounds hurt, even though Steve isn’t laughing at him at all, just at how ridiculous this whole situation is.
He can’t explain everything, so he focuses on the most immediate part. “I was just thinking what a cliché this is,” he says. “I never thought I’d be taking a moonlit stroll with a guy on the beach.” Steve is looking at the sand as he says it, not wanting to look up, but Justin stops and turns to face Steve.
Justin puts his hand on Steve’s cheek, and Steve feels as though the situation is about to swallow him whole.
“May I?” Justin asks, and Steve just nods before tilting his head up and closing his eyes.
The first touch of Justin’s lips is electric, and Steve gasps, gripping Justin’s arm so that he doesn’t fall over or worse, run away. The kiss is slow and soft, just their lips moving against each other, and Steve loses track of his heart beat, his breathing, everything but the sounds of the ocean and the feel of Justin against him. Eventually he has to pull away, but he tucks himself against Justin’s side so that they can continue on down the beach.
***
Once again, it’s fuck-off o’clock on Sunday morning when Kono calls him.
“Fuck off,” he tells her. He got home way too late last night and had been counting on getting more than a scant few hours of sleep.
“Not a chance. We missed surfing last weekend, so we’re going now. So get your ass out of bed. I'm on my way; be there in ten minutes.”
At this point, Steve knows not to go against Kono when she’s this determined, so he throws on his new suit and a pair of shorts and he’s downstairs on the lanai when she pulls into the driveway. After strapping his board to the rack on Kono’s car, he climbs in to find that she’s brought coffee for them both.
“So how’d it go with Mr. Tall, Dark, and not-as-scary-as-you?”
It’s a good thing Steve hadn’t yet attempted to take a sip of said coffee because it would have just ended up plastered all over the window.
“The hell, Kono?”
“I followed you,” she says, like it’s not a big deal.
“You followed me.”
“I already told you that, but you haven’t answered my question,” Kono points out. “Are you going to see him again?”
Steve thinks it over. They’d exchanged numbers before parting ways outside the club, but as nice as last night had been, he wasn’t sure what to do now. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe.”
“That’s the same maybe you gave me yesterday when I asked you about the club.”
Steve doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he says nothing and drinks his coffee. This early there are few cars on the road, but the traffic increases incrementally as they near the beach. There are already some people in the water by the time they park and drag their boards out, but it’s not crowded, and the waves are good.
They stay out on the beach almost all day, rotating out every so often to warm up and grab water or food from the shacks set up nearby.
“Do I have to beat it out of you?” Kono asks him at some point mid-afternoon. They’re sitting on towels close to the water’s edge, watching some of the more stupid tourists wipe out.
“What is there to say?” Steve asks. “He’s a nice guy, works on base.”
“Do you really not know what I’m asking?” Kono says, taking a swig of her water. “What happened when you left the club?”
“We went for a walk on the beach.”
Kono starts giggling madly. “Of all people, I never thought you would turn into the Hawaiian tourist cliché. Moonlit walks on the beach. Danny’s going to lose it when I tell him.”
Steve elbows her sharply. “You wouldn’t.”
“Ouch!" She's smiling, though, so Steve knows she's just protesting because she can. "Try putting me on babysitting duty again and see what happens.”
Her tone is light, but Steve has a feeling that she actually would do it. If nothing else then for laughs, because Danny’s reaction would be nothing less than explosive.
“I kissed him,” Steve finally says.
“Look at you, brah!” Kono exclaims. She’s smiling widely, and Steve looks away. “What else?”
“That’s it.” Steve shrugs. “We stayed out on the beach for a while, he walked me to my car and I came home.”
“So when are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. I said I’d call.”
“So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Going to call?”
“Maybe.” And really, that’s all Steve can give her, because he hasn’t decided if he wants to see Justin again.
Thankfully, she drops the subject, and they head back out into the water. They don’t leave the beach until much later.
“You should call him,” Kono tells Steve as she drops him off at home. “It’s probably not going to be a long-term thing, but why not have a little bit of fun?”
He doesn’t answer, but as she drives away Steve can see her smile. The first thing he does is go upstairs to rinse off the sand and saltwater and change into something that’s not his suit.
When he’s put himself back together, the sun is just going down, and Steve grabs a beer and heads out to the lanai, deliberately leaving his phone in the kitchen. This had been so easy with Catherine. She’d call him or he’d call her if they knew they’d be in the same area for any given amount of time. Steve doesn’t want to lead Justin on, but whatever is happening can’t happen forever. (Steve does not even want to think of the possibility that it could, because if he does he’ll go crazy. Well, more crazy. Danny is constantly accusing him of being off his rocker already.)
But how many times has he done this from the other side? Spent a week in port, hooked up with a girl a few times then left? OK, maybe he hasn’t, but that’s only because for some reason he’s got Catherine. His teammates, however, have always been a different story. Hell, even Danny’s occasionally come back on Monday morning with story that doesn’t involve Grace.
So maybe it’s not completely out of the question, that this could be just a quick fling. And maybe there was something to the cliched Hawaiian romantic getaway thing, because last night had been fun.
It can wait until morning, though, because it’s peaceful out here, and Steve doesn’t want to move just yet. Which, of course, is when his phone starts ringing.
Steve vaults to answer it before it goes to voicemail just in case it's Justin, because he hadn’t bothered to change the message in the hopes that he’s wake up some morning and find himself changed back into himself. In his rush, he doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering.
“I’m on my way over,” Danny says. “With longboards.” And then he hangs up, leaving Steve no room to protest the invasion, which he definitely wants to do, after the way Danny had blown off their plans for the weekend. Then again, it’s not like he’d be able to do anything anyway.
The door’s unlocked, so when Danny does show up, he comes right in without bothering to knock. Steve’s back out on the lanai and Danny finds him pretty quickly, handing over two things immediately: a beer and a piece of printer paper folded in half. Steve takes a gulp of the beer gratefully, as his own has just run out, then he looks at the paper.
“It’s from Grace,” Danny explains, sitting down. “I told her you were sick this weekend and she made me promise to bring it over before going home.”
“Right,” Steve says. He can understand why Danny didn't want him to see Grace, but it doesn’t mean he’s not pissed off that Danny didn’t even try to see if Grace would understand.
When he does unfold the paper, he finds that it’s a get well card, with a picture of brightly colored fish and two people swimming. He assumes that it’s him in the picture, partly because Grace knows her Danno’s stance on swimming, but mostly because he’s got black hair.
“Tell her thanks,” Steve says, tucking the card under one of the cushions on the chair so that it doesn’t blow away.
The silence is awkward after that. Steve has no idea why Danny isn’t talking, because normally Steve can’t get him to stop.
“How was the weekend?” Steve finally asks, because there’s nothing else to do at this point but make small talk.
“Fine,” Danny says.
Steve drinks about half the beer in one go. It shouldn’t be this awkward, but it is, and he doesn’t have a clue where to poke Danny to get him going again, even though he really should.
“So, where’s Grace now? Don’t you normally have her until Monday mornings?”
Steve probably should have seen the explosion coming, because Grace is Danny’s favorite thing in the world, and anything that keeps him from spending time with her causes bad reactions.
“There’s some project for school that Rachel just had to do with her because she’d promised to help. Apparently I’m not good enough to help my own daughter with a school project, even though I moved my entire life out to this god damned island for her.”
There’s not really anything to say to that, because it’s nothing that Steve hasn’t heard thousands of times before tonight.
“You should put that card on your fridge before you forget,” Danny says, after a pause. “Or next time I bring Grace over here you can explain why it’s not displayed prominently for everyone to see, and I claim no responsibility for the consequences.”
Steve lets out a breath at the way Danny just assumes that Grace will see his fridge at some point in the near future, and that she’ll be disappointed when her artwork isn’t featured. He’s not sure exactly why this particular assumption is affecting him quite so much, so he picks up the card and carries it inside. He puts it on the fridge for now, and tells himself that he will eventually get it framed just to see Danny’s reaction at his daughter’s card hanging on Steve’s wall.
The bright colors of the card remind Steve of the contrast between what his life was before the Five-0 (before Danny) and what it is now, where he has friends that aren’t just other members of his unit and a family that he’s built himself. That’s what it is, Steve realizes. Ohana.
He cracks another two bottles before heading back out to the lanai, smiling, and it seems that his sudden good mood is contagious because when he gets there Danny’s bad mood seems to have evaporated.
“Admit it,” Steve says. “You like this island.” It’s a challenge, and Danny’s never been able to back down from a challenge.
“I do not like this island. It’s too hot, there are too many damned beaches filled with tourists and boys who would love nothing more than to see my daughter in a bikini, too many pineapples and too many people trying to kill me on a regular basis. You, my friend,” he points at Steve, “are included in the list of people trying to kill me, by the way.”
“No one took a shot at us this week,” Steve protests.
“Your driving is literally going to get me killed. Did they not teach you which pedal makes the car stop when you learned to drive? Or did the SEALs teach you to just ignore it at all costs in some sort of misguided brainwashing attempt?”
“First thing they teach us is how to switch off the safety on a gun,” Steve says, laughing. “I already knew how to drive when I joined up.”
“So driving is lesson number two. And don’t you dare tell me anything different, McGarrett. I know when you’re lying to me.”
Eventually they move inside and Steve tosses some fish on the grill and rounds out dinner with salad and rice, provoking Danny to complain that it’s so healthy it has to be terrible for you, how can anyone out here survive on nothing but greens and fish?
“Malasadas,” Steve reminds him, and grins as Danny finishes off his entire plate. He neglects to mention that the dressing for the salad contains pineapple juice. Especially after he catches Danny wiping up the last few drops from his plate and licking it off his fingers.
***
Monday morning starts like most Mondays, with lots of coffee, half a dozen malasadas shared around, and a lot of loud yelling and crashes coming from Danny’s office. Well, it’s mostly yelling, Steve observes, lots of four letter words and most likely a lot of waving his arms around.
Which is exactly how Steve catches him at 11:30 when he desperately needs coffee and there’s been a particularly loud bang from Danny’s office that probably will result in either a work order or a requisition for a new piece of office furniture.
And Danny thinks that Steve is high maintenance.
Steve has barely opened the door before Danny is on his feet and coming around the desk saying, “Yes, let’s go.”
“You don’t know where we’re going,” Steve points out.
“I don’t care. It’s somewhere that’s not this office where there are no mile-high stacks of paperwork waiting for me. I’d also say something about leaving the psychotic boss behind except that he’s coming with me.”
Steve doesn’t respond, because it’s an argument that they have at least twice weekly, without ever resolving it. Instead, he gets the last word by starting to move the car before Danny’s door is completely closed, prompting yet another round of Were you dropped on your head as a child? The purpose of the car door is to keep the people inside of it, which, just in case you forget, is you and me, safe while you ram a 3,000 pound machine through the city during rush hour. Starting to move the car before the door is closed defeats the purpose of this basic safety mechanism, and it would be a shame for either of us to be killed pulling out of the parking lot when we’re involved in deadly shoot-outs at least once a week.
They’re just pulling out onto the road when Steve’s phone rings. A quick look at the caller ID reveals that it’s Justin on the line and Steve bites back his reaction because he can’t let it go to voicemail, but he really, really doesn’t want Danny listening in on this conversation. There’s nothing he can do, though, so he answers it.
“Hi,” Justin says. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Steve winces. Something of his reluctance to answer must have come through the line.
“I’m running out for coffee,” Steve says.
“Wish I could join you,” Justin replies.
Steve is immensely grateful that he can’t, because he wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily explain the guns, the badges or Danny. And like hell would Danny stay in the damn car.
“Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner tonight.”
Steve hesitates and glances over at Danny. He’s obviously trying to listen to the entire conversation, and there’s a weird look on his face that Steve can’t quite pinpoint, though he’s familiar with pretty much all of Danny’s expressions by now (even if he’s not sure Danny knows he’s that easily read). On the other hand, Steve doesn’t live his life according to how Danny is going to react, so he finally says,
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
They set a time and a place for dinner, and Steve very wisely doesn’t look at Danny when he hangs up the phone.
“What was that?” Danny asks.
“I’m not allowed to have personal calls during work hours?”
“If that’s what I think it was, Steven, then you’re more crazy than I thought. And let me tell you, I already thought you needed to be locked up.”
“It’s not what you think.” Even though it probably is exactly what Danny thinks.
“You were making a date. A date with a guy. On a weeknight. You are certifiable. Give me that phone, I’m looking up directions for the nearest psychiatric ward and you are driving there and signing in voluntarily. What the hell are you thinking?”
“Suddenly I’m not allowed to have a personal life?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Jackass.”
“Then what are you saying? Because it sounds to me like you’re telling me I don’t get to have a personal life. Or maybe it’s just during work hours, but I gotta point out that you’ve never kept it off-hours.”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Steven.”
“Then tell me what the hell you’re saying.”
“You just made a date. With a guy.”
“I hear that’s something that women do occasionally.”
“You!” Danny’s hands are waving around at light speed, and if Steve wasn’t so used to it by now it would be incredibly distracting. “You are not a woman! Unless you have been brainwashed in the last three days, you should not be referring to yourself as one. Much less making dates with guys that you cannot see past whenever this ends. This is a recipe for disaster with extra pineapple.”
Steve knows that Danny really is trying to look out for him, in his own twisted, very loud way but he doesn’t want it. Instead of actually saying any of this, he just asks, “Pineapple?”
“Pineapple. The most evil fruit of all time. And Grace is starting to like the vile stuff. Traitor.”
“She’s got good taste,” Steve says, deadpan, very happy to have steered the conversation away from his upcoming date. And the timing is perfect because they’re now at the coffee shop, and Danny is climbing out of the car as soon as it stops moving. Steve lets himself sit still and breathe for a minute. He texts Kono that he needs her help after work, and to please not talk about it in front of Danny before climbing out of the car himself and following Danny inside.
Thankfully, Danny drops the subject and just gives Steve and Kono a glare as they leave a few minutes early.
***
Steve is unaccountably nervous as he drives downtown to meet Justin. He’s been on dates before, so technically there should be nothing new here. Well, he’s not sure that his almost-dinners with Catherine would count as dates in anyone else’s book, but there had been instances before Catherine. Not many proper dates since his days at Annapolis, but Steve hasn’t exactly been a monk, especially in the last year or so.
Nevertheless there’s a weird, fluttery pit somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach and he’s not quite sure what to do other than grip the wheel tighter and try not to get himself killed before he gets to the restaurant. Danny would be horrified at how safely he’s driving right now; no running red lights, no stunt turns, just Steve trying to get to the other side in one piece, and without causing destruction behind him.
At least three times during the drive he asks himself what the fuck he’s doing, going on this date, (Danny’s words from earlier conveniently echoing each time he goes back to the question) but at this point he’s more afraid of what Kono will do if he backs out. She put a considerable amount of work into getting him put together and out the door and she’ll probably be waiting for him when he gets back.
Because he is going to make it home without killing anyone and not slam into the car in front of him because his mind is wandering and the light turned red, damnit!
He’s a few minutes late by the time he gets there. Kono had gotten bolder in her clothing and makeup choices for the evening, and as a result Steve left the house later than he’d wanted to, wearing dark skinny jeans and a shimmery top, some bracelets, a pair of Kono’s sandals that were little more than a sole and a few narrow strings to keep them on his feet, and too much makeup. She’d even threatened to pierce his ears, but Steve drew the line at permanent body modifications. Well, aside from his tattoos, but they had meanings beyond my life is fucked up, I’m in the wrong body, and I want to look good for a first date that’s never going to be anything more than a few dates. She hadn’t fought all that hard for them anyway. Though her strategy became clear once she got Steve to sit still for the makeup: what’s a bit of mascara compared to poking holes through his flesh?
Steve smooths down his shirt unnecessarily and grips the clutch Kono had given him for the evening to store his phone, keys, bank card and some cash. He can’t fit his 5-0 badge in there, but it’s sitting in a pocket in the door of his truck. He feels oddly naked without it on him. It’s become his identity since he came back to the Islands and he’s not sure he knows how to leave it behind, even for a night.
When Steve finally walks in the door, Justin is standing just inside waiting for him. Steve isn’t sure of the proper greeting, as they barely know each other, but Justin solves that problem by leaning in to give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. Steve smiles at him, even though his stomach is clenched even tighter now, and follows the hostess through the main dining room and out to the patio, where the tables are a bit more spread out, and the air is a lot thinner and less prone to choking him. He takes a deep breath and sits down, only noticing belatedly that Justin is halfway around the table, reaching out to get his chair.
“Sorry,” Steve winces, feeling as though he’s violated some sort of protocol he wasn’t aware of; he's always been on the other side. But Justin just goes back to his own chair and sits down, smiling at Steve.
“Don’t worry about it.”
And just like that the weird tension is gone. With Justin at an arm’s length, Steve is better equipped to deal with the situation. For most of the conversation, he can just pretend that they’re good friends out to dinner. Except for when Steve attempts to cross his legs under the table and awkwardly bumps Justin’s knees because he’s not used to the motion, or when Justin occasionally reaches out and touches Steve’s hand, even though he’s keeping them pretty close to his edge of the table or when the lighting is just right on Justin’s face and Steve has stop himself from staring before realizing that he’s allowed to look.
Through all of it, though they keep talking comfortably about any number of topics. Justin tells Steve about his previous posting on an aircraft carrier, (and Steve has to bite back talking about his time in the Navy, because as far as Justin is concerned, Steve’s just in Hawaii visiting family.)
Steve talks about his imaginary brother, who recently went through a bitter divorce then followed her out to Hawaii so he could visit his daughter more than twice a year. By the time dessert arrives, Steve has apparently waxed on enough about his “niece” that Justin decides she sounds like a good kid, and if she wants a tour of a navy boat, Steve should bring her over sometime soon. Which is where Steve realizes that he may have gotten a bit carried away talking about his fake niece and that if he tries to borrow Gracie for an afternoon to actually follow through with the offer, Danno will kill him. Or insist on coming with, which is probably the worst of the two options, and Steve thinks about excusing himself quickly to the bathroom so that he can bash his head against a wall in relative privacy.
When he sees the server approaching with their check, Steve has a hot internal debate on whether he should offer to pay for it, because he’s always done it before on first dates, but that was before he switched bodies, and he remembers how much he hated girls who didn’t even try, but that’s his personal preference, and he knows plenty of guys who hate girls who fight for the check, and he’s not sure where Justin falls on the issue, because it’s not really something you can outright ask. He still hasn’t made up his mind by the time she arrives at the table.
And hands the bill directly to Justin, circumventing the immediate issue. Which of course just leads Steve to question whether he should speak up and offer to at least pay the tip. He starts to reach for the clutch, but Justin grabs his hand, holding it firmly in a grip that is absolutely not making Steve’s heart beat just a little bit faster.
“Don’t even think about it,” Justin says, and with the indecision gone, Steve relaxes a fraction, but doesn’t pull his hand away.
Once everything is cleared away, they linger over the last of the bottle of wine until it’s completely gone, and Steve keeps looking at his glass wondering if it would be polite to attempt to get the last few drops from the bottom. If he were at home or out with the team he wouldn’t hesitate, but it’s probably not the best thing to do now.
Something must have showed on his face, because Justin gets up and starts walking around the table, and this time Steve forces himself to sit still and let Justin pull out his chair, even though he’s itching to just stand up on his own. As they walk out, Justin puts his hand on the small of Steve’s back. Justin’s not pushing him anywhere, not laying claim to him; it’s just a small gesture, one that Steve can easily twist to avoid if he wants, but he likes it, and the contact remains until Steve stops at his car.
“I have a better idea,” Justin says.
“Better than what?” he asks.
“Better than us saying goodnight here in the parking lot.” Justin brings a hand up to rest on Steve’s shoulder, thumb hitting the skin just behind his ear causing Steve to shiver a bit.
He bites his lip, debating. It would be easy to just say goodnight and go home, but the fact is that he does like Justin. Their conversation has been flowing freely and easily all night, and even though he has to work in the morning, he’s the boss so he can show up as late as he wants anyway.
Justin continues before Steve actually responds. “I know a beach not far from here, pretty secluded, and it’ll be empty on a Monday night.”
Steve is pretty sure he knows which beach Justin’s talking about. It’s popular with the local couples, but Justin’s right, Monday isn’t exactly a hot date night, so it’ll probably be empty.
“Unless you have to get back?” Justin asks. He’s giving Steve an out, which Steve realizes he doesn’t want.
“No,” he says. “Let’s go. I love the beach.”
“I thought so,” Justin laughs, and pulls back, letting Steve follow him to his car.
The drive takes about twenty minutes; Steve knows he can make it in twelve, but he’s not the one driving, and Justin is relatively new to the Island, and makes a few bad turns on the way. He obviously knows where they’re going, but even though Steve knows a better route to avoid traffic, he keeps his mouth closed, remembering that he’s supposedly just visiting and shouldn’t have a local knowledge of the place built partly on childhood memories but mostly on the last year’s worth of driving all over town chasing drug lords and smugglers. He deliberately avoids even thinking about the rest of it because he doesn’t want to ruin the night.
When they get to beach, there aren’t any other cars in sight, and Steve is glad that Kono didn’t go all out on him and make him wear heels again tonight, because the path down to the sand is narrow and steep in places, and overgrown with large, leafy tropical plants through most of it. When they finally get down by the water Steve’s eyes have adjusted to the low light and he can make out the familiar curves of the beach and see where the water is breaking onto the sand. He drops Justin’s hand, that he’d forgotten he was holding and walks down to the water, sitting down and fiddling with the sandals so he can push his bare toes into it. Justin sits down next to him and doesn’t even complain when the next wave comes up higher than usual and rushes around them, half-soaking them.
“I’ve always loved the beach,” Steve says, stopping just short of adding a tell-tale here to the end of it.
“I grew up in Chicago,” Justin says. “The beach up there is fine, but it’s not the ocean.”
Steve just nods, and lets Justin take his hand again. He remembers a trip they took from Annapolis to Lake Ontario one weekend when he was still in school. He remembers the long stretch of beach that was similar on the surface, but lacking the fresh, salty ocean air. Even Annapolis, which was right on the bay lacked the same freshness as the beaches here at home, and Steve could never satisfactorily explain it to anyone, though he suspected that one of his roommates from California understood more than the rest.
Justin lets go of Steve’s hand and pulls his shirt over his head.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.
“Going swimming,” Justin says, standing up and walking up the beach so he can deposit his clothes in a safe spot. Steve follows suit, mostly because he can never resist a swim.
By the time Steve gets up to where Justin is on the beach, Justin has shed all of his clothing, leaving them in a heap at his feet. Steve catches a glimpse of his naked form and looks away quickly. Before Steve can analyze that particular reaction, aside from the fact that it’s an issue he’s never had before tonight, Justin is running back to the water calling out “Last one in!” and literally throwing his body at the waves.
Steve drops his pants and shirt and struggles with the bra a bit, cursing the damn thing before flinging it aside and running for the water. As soon as it’s deep enough for him to swim comfortably he dives under and takes a few strokes out to where it’s just too deep to stand comfortably, and treads water easily, turning back towards the beach where Justin is still standing in waist deep water.
“You were saying?” Steve calls, and moves further out as Justin dives in to chase him.
The feeling of the water pouring over every inch of his body is nothing short of sublime; it’s a feeling that Steve has never gotten used to, not since the first time he snuck out with his high school friends for a beach party. He hopes he never does.
He’s lost in thought enough that Justin is able to swim up behind him, grab him by the shoulders and push him under briefly. Steve comes up spluttering and kicks out hard, following after Justin to get revenge, mentally thanking himself for keeping up his swimming in the last week. When he gets there he wraps his legs around Justin from the back and rolls backwards hard, dunking him and then using the leverage to spring away again, swimming fast, but not fast enough to actually get away. He doesn’t really want to.
The next time Justin grabs him, it’s not to inflict the next move in their game. Instead he wraps his arms around Steve’s stomach and pulls him in close, just holding him there and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t fight it, just lets himself float, with Justin holding him and treading water to keep their heads above the waves. Steve can feel the heat pouring off Justin’s body, and the sharp contrast to the cool of the water around them, and it’s slowly driving him mad, so he gently breaks Justin’s hold on his waist and lets his legs drift up until he’s floating on his back, still mostly submerged. He’s using Justin’s upper body as a lounge chair, his arms on top of Justin’s, his head pillowed on Justin’s shoulder, looking up at the mostly dark sky. Even out here they can’t escape the noise pollution of the city completely.
They stay like that for a long time, drifting a bit with the waves, Justin’s thumbs tracing nonsense patterns over Steve’s hand.
Without thinking about it, Steve turns his head and kisses Justin gently on the lips.
The angle’s awkward, and it leaves him kicking a bit to maintain his position in the water, but he doesn’t move. Instead, Justin adjusts around him and kisses back, harder, opening up and letting Steve fall into him. He tastes like the ocean, salty, and it’s overloading all of Steve’s senses to be this surrounded by it, as if he’s about to lose himself and melt into the water.
He wants more, so he breaks the position and flips around, gripping at Justin’s shoulders now, feeling Justin’s hands go to his waist, thumbs still moving in small circles on whichever piece of Steve’s skin he’s managed to find.
Steve can no longer feel the up and down motion of the waves as much, but the surface of the water is dancing around his neck, sometimes higher, sometimes lower, adding to the sensory overload and he groans, moving his body closer to Justin’s and tangling their legs together as they both tread water gently to keep their heads above the surface. Steve hasn’t lost his mind completely and he’s pretty sure he doesn't want to drown tonight. Well, at least not physically.
One of Justin’s hands starts moving, from Steve’s waist to his hip to the small of his back, up his spine, back down. Steve loses track of exactly where Justin’s hands are, except that they’re warm, and they’re leaving trails of heat on his skin, causing him to breathe faster into Justin’s mouth, and tighten his grip on Justin’s shoulders for leverage. The water rushes in to cool down and fill all the places Justin’s hands leave behind. It’s perfect out here, weightless in the water; the only things Steve can hear over the rush of blood through his veins is Justin’s breathing and the ebb and flow of the ocean.
Justin’s hand moves up Steve’s side, fingers trailing over his ribcage and thumb grazing the underside of his breast, circling up until it brushes across Steve’s nipple, causing a jolt of electricity to race down his spine.
He pushes back, away, breathing hard and he strikes out for the shore, not looking back for Justin’s reaction. All he knows is that he needs to get out of the water and get back to his own home, back to more familiar surroundings. Steve swims as long as he can effectively stroke before standing up and sprinting up the beach, not bothering to stop and shake off more water than the can during his short run. He’s mastered the art of dressing quickly, and by the time Justin reaches him he’s fully dressed except for the damned bra, which he’s folded in on itself as small as he can make it and is clenching it in one fist.
Justin looks puzzled as Steve manages to politely ask to be driven back to his car and dresses quickly while Steve wrestles the straps of the sandals back into place with shaky fingers. The silence and stillness of the beach is spoiled by tension as the climb back up the path to Justin’s car, and they don’t speak on the way back into town. Steve crosses his arms over his chest and shrinks back into the passenger seat and tries not to study Justin’s profile to look for his reaction.
When they get back to the restaurant parking lot Steve fumbles open the door before Justin can throw the car into park and scrabbles for Kono’s clutch where he left it in the door. He manages to blurt out a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before shutting Justin’s door.
He fumbles his keys and goddamnit, Justin is so perfectly polite that of course he’d wait until Steve proves that his car will start and will get him home, and so it feels like forever until he feels the engine turn over and roar to life. He throws the car into reverse and drives off quickly without bothering to buckle his seatbelt.
The routine of driving is familiar enough that concentrating on it allows Steve to start to breathe evenly again, concentrating on taking the correct turns that will eventually lead him back to his house. By the time he pulls into his driveway he’s calm enough to notice that Kono did really go home, or at least elsewhere because her car isn’t in the driveway, and that he’s not actually going to have a panic attack, even if he’s not quite ready to sort through whatever just happened.
He need either lots of alcohol or Kono’s help to get through that one, and probably both, if the past week’s been any indication.
Instead, he sheds his clothing between his bedroom door and the shower, turning it on and jumping in before it reaches optimal temperatures because it’s not the heat he’s after; it’s the pounding of the needles of water to erase the memories of the ocean and Justin’s hands from his skin. When he’s done he towels off quickly, digs through is medicine cabinet for a sleeping pill, takes two and falls into bed, forcing his mind into nothingness so he can get some sleep.
Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5