Happy Birthday, topaz119!
So, here's a tiny little H5-0 ficlet for topaz119's birthday, \o/!
Last year I wrote her Sam/Gabriel, although not for her birthday. I guess I'd write her anything to make her smile.
I hope this does make you smile, M.
Do I need a header for a 600 word story? I'm thinking no.
So, 621 words of pure indulgence, Steve/Danny style.
Steve's smile tends to make Danny blink. He can't help it, his eyes just snap closed in the face of that smile. And then they open again so he doesn't miss a minute of it.
He blinks and Steve keeps smiling.
When Chin says there aren't any roads that lead to where they need to go, Steve's smile as he says, "We don’t need roads," is such an unsettling combination of delighted and ready that it makes Danny glad he's out of commission with a bum knee and doesn't have to be anywhere near whatever goes down.
Chin's answering smile is even more unsettling. What does that even mean, they don't need roads? Everybody needs roads. Jersey is made up almost entirely of roads and that's a good thing.
Normal people need roads.
When they're standing around waiting for the Kapu to deliver a couple of suspects and Danny's sure they're not going to show, Steve doesn't actually smile, but his lips twitch in amusement.
And why the hell would they show? They're on a plane halfway to LA by now, Danny knows this.
"They were supposed to be here an hour ago, so I'm just curious: where are they, huh?"
When the van finally pulls up to dump two guys at their feet, Steve's smile could have been smug, but it isn't. It's satisfied, though, and it makes Danny blink, of course.
"Island time," Steve says. "Right on schedule."
Steve's smile is making it hard for Danny to resist Hawaii's charms, and God knows he's trying.
And then they arrest the asshole who had the stones to kill someone Kono loved and Steve tells Kono to book him. Danny's not sure he likes that and apparently Steve can see right through him.
"You know, when I say 'book 'em, Danno,' it's a term of endearment," Steve says.
Is that what he's calling it? Danny can live with that. He nods. "Okay, do it every day. I like it."
And that gets him a smile that makes him blink more than once, it's that wide and bright.
So Danny finds himself waiting for a smile, or what's even worse, trying to elicit one.
Any mention of Grace is enough to bring one out, but somehow that feels a little like cheating. Grace would make anyone smile. If someone didn't smile at Grace, Danny would probably take their head off and then ask them if they even had a soul.
So using Grace is off-limits in the suddenly serious game of Getting McGarrett to Smile.
Oh, sure, if Danny lets Steve pick where they eat lunch, Steve will smile.
The more Danny bitches about how Steve drives like an insane person, the more he complains about his frequent brushes with death just because his partner is some sort of speed freak, the bigger the smile Danny gets in return is.
But it's not quite the smile he's looking for.
He buys Steve a beer and gets an appreciative grin. He does more than his share of the paperwork after they solve a case and gets the same.
The smile he gets when he - God help him - wears a tie with actual pineapples on it is almost there. It's happy, but still missing something.
Finally, one night after a couple of beers, Chin says, "Come on, Gus, let's get out of here," with a look between the two of them that has Steve frowning in confusion. When Danny pins Steve against the side of his car and kisses him, slow and dirty, after that, Danny gets the smile he's been looking for.
It's big and bright and delighted and appreciative, more than ready, satisfied, and even a little bit smug.
It's just right.
Last year I wrote her Sam/Gabriel, although not for her birthday. I guess I'd write her anything to make her smile.
I hope this does make you smile, M.
Do I need a header for a 600 word story? I'm thinking no.
So, 621 words of pure indulgence, Steve/Danny style.
Steve's smile tends to make Danny blink. He can't help it, his eyes just snap closed in the face of that smile. And then they open again so he doesn't miss a minute of it.
He blinks and Steve keeps smiling.
When Chin says there aren't any roads that lead to where they need to go, Steve's smile as he says, "We don’t need roads," is such an unsettling combination of delighted and ready that it makes Danny glad he's out of commission with a bum knee and doesn't have to be anywhere near whatever goes down.
Chin's answering smile is even more unsettling. What does that even mean, they don't need roads? Everybody needs roads. Jersey is made up almost entirely of roads and that's a good thing.
Normal people need roads.
When they're standing around waiting for the Kapu to deliver a couple of suspects and Danny's sure they're not going to show, Steve doesn't actually smile, but his lips twitch in amusement.
And why the hell would they show? They're on a plane halfway to LA by now, Danny knows this.
"They were supposed to be here an hour ago, so I'm just curious: where are they, huh?"
When the van finally pulls up to dump two guys at their feet, Steve's smile could have been smug, but it isn't. It's satisfied, though, and it makes Danny blink, of course.
"Island time," Steve says. "Right on schedule."
Steve's smile is making it hard for Danny to resist Hawaii's charms, and God knows he's trying.
And then they arrest the asshole who had the stones to kill someone Kono loved and Steve tells Kono to book him. Danny's not sure he likes that and apparently Steve can see right through him.
"You know, when I say 'book 'em, Danno,' it's a term of endearment," Steve says.
Is that what he's calling it? Danny can live with that. He nods. "Okay, do it every day. I like it."
And that gets him a smile that makes him blink more than once, it's that wide and bright.
So Danny finds himself waiting for a smile, or what's even worse, trying to elicit one.
Any mention of Grace is enough to bring one out, but somehow that feels a little like cheating. Grace would make anyone smile. If someone didn't smile at Grace, Danny would probably take their head off and then ask them if they even had a soul.
So using Grace is off-limits in the suddenly serious game of Getting McGarrett to Smile.
Oh, sure, if Danny lets Steve pick where they eat lunch, Steve will smile.
The more Danny bitches about how Steve drives like an insane person, the more he complains about his frequent brushes with death just because his partner is some sort of speed freak, the bigger the smile Danny gets in return is.
But it's not quite the smile he's looking for.
He buys Steve a beer and gets an appreciative grin. He does more than his share of the paperwork after they solve a case and gets the same.
The smile he gets when he - God help him - wears a tie with actual pineapples on it is almost there. It's happy, but still missing something.
Finally, one night after a couple of beers, Chin says, "Come on, Gus, let's get out of here," with a look between the two of them that has Steve frowning in confusion. When Danny pins Steve against the side of his car and kisses him, slow and dirty, after that, Danny gets the smile he's been looking for.
It's big and bright and delighted and appreciative, more than ready, satisfied, and even a little bit smug.
It's just right.