Notes: This is a companion piece to "Danny Williams’ No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day"
The day started out shitty and went downhill from there.
First of all he woke up alone because Danny refused to stay over when Mary was at the house; apparently he had a thing about sex within earshot of his partner’s sibling, and come on, it wasn’t like either of them were screamers.
He found out during the night that Mary had no such issues and that she was a screamer, both things he had not needed to know about his little sister. Both things he would have paid to unlearn about her as well.
The noise finally wound down around three, and he got a few of hours of fitful sleep before stumbling to the bathroom and almost putting Mary’s lanky-haired, tattooed booty-call through the wall when the other man surprised him in the hall.
He escaped the house soon after, Mary’s tirade ringing in his ears, intending to treat himself to pancakes, but no, the power at his favorite place was out, and he had to settle for a chain store smoothie and a bagel so hard that he almost broke a tooth on it.
There was no work that day, nothing, nada, and by the end of the day, he could swear that Chin and Kono were giving each other panicked looks as he stormed around the HQ searching for something to do. Danny, the chicken, had vanished hours before, citing the need to do something at Grace’s school. Yeah, right.
Traffic when he left work was hellacious, and he glanced at his phone, praying that the governor would call, that the mayor would call, hell, that someone would mug a tourist in front of him so that he could beat the shit out of them, anything to save him from what might well be Mary and the tattooed guy, the sequel.
There were no cars in front of the house when he pulled up, but the door was unlocked, something that set all his instincts on edge. Dropping into a crouch and balancing the idea of needlessly scaring Mary half to death against tactics, a battle that tactics easily won, he reached for his gun, holding it at his side as he crept through the house. There were noises coming from the kitchen and part of him breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t sex noises; he’d have to tear out the cabinets and install new ones if he found Mary having sex on one of the counters, especially the one he liked to press Danny up against...
Cursing himself silently for thinking of his sister having sex and himself having sex with Danny and knowing that the latter was because he wasn’t going to be doing that this evening, Steve crept toward the kitchen, darting a glance around the corner and letting out an explosive breath when he saw his partner standing at the counter, mixing something in a bowl.
"Jesus, Danny! What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?" he demanded, holstering his gun and stalking forward to slam his hands down on the island across from where Danny was working.
The other man’s smile turned wry, and his eyebrows rose as he glanced from Steve’s gun to his hands then finally up to his face. "You know, you really need to work on your hospitality skills."
Steve could feel the vein in his forehead begin to throb as adrenaline coursed through his body. "You don’t normally need hospitality skills for people who break into your house," he got out in what he thought was a rational tone of voice – something that obviously wasn’t true as Danny’s eyebrows somehow rose higher.
"For your information, I didn’t break into your place; Mary let me in as she was leaving –"
"She went out?" Thank God, at least he’d have a few hours of quiet – or he would have them if Danny would stop lecturing him.
"Yes, she went out. With Alika. To the Hilton for the night."
"Alika? Who’s Alika?"
Danny looked at him strangely, and Steve braced himself for more of the Daniel Williams lecture series.
"Alika Halemano, the guy she’s seeing? The guy that was over here last night?" Danny’s brow furrowed. Steve could feel that direct blue gaze boring into his as if Danny was trying to peer into his brain and figure out how he could be such an idiot, so he quickly tried to cover.
"Oh yeah, that Alika and wait a minute, the Hilton?"
Danny shrugged as he set aside the whisk that he had been using and walked over to the fridge, pulling out a pair of beer bottles and opening them both before handing one over. "Yeah, the Hilton."
"And just how did they get a room at the Hilton?" Steve asked suspiciously before downing half of his beer, deciding that the day and this conversation deserved it.
Danny shrugged again. "I know a guy."
"Toast got them a room there?" The rest of the beer blazed a cold trail down Steve’s throat but still did nothing to help his confusion.
"No, Toast didn’t get them a room," Danny laughed, taking Steve’s empty bottle and swapping it out for the full one he still held, Steve clutching the new bottle like it was a lifeline to sanity.
Knowing he shouldn’t ask, he winced and did it anyway. "Which of them sold an organ then?"
"I told you, I know a guy, well a gal; she’s the manager and she comped me a room for them."
"Because I caught the guy who jacked her car, that’s why."
"No, I mean why did you get them a room?" The second beer went down even faster than the first, and Steve looked toward the fridge, wanting to arm himself with another before Danny got to his explanation, one that would obviously make his head explode.
"Why did I get them a room?" Danny’s tone was incredulous, and Steve groaned, starting for the fridge only to have Danny somehow get there ahead of him and hand him another beer.
"I got them a room so that they wouldn’t be here."
Steve blinked, at a loss for words, and Danny obviously took that as an indication he was supposed to continue. "They’ll be at the Hilton, and we’re here."
Maybe it was because he’d just pounded two beers and he hadn’t had anything to eat that day since the smoothie, but Steve just stared at Danny, who shook his head and grinned. "Sit down; I’m making pancakes."
Lost in the morass of Danno-think, Steve dropped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table though he remained staring at the other man, refusing to ask the next question, and damnit, he was getting predictable because Danny gave that infectious grin that Grace had inherited from him.
"Why pancakes, you ask? Well, you’re not asking, but I know you want to," he said as he poured circles of batter onto the hot griddle. "Because you had a crap day and you like them, that’s why."
"You’re making me pancakes?"
"I can make pancakes!"
Knowing that another tirade might erupt, Steve spoke swiftly. "I wasn’t questioning your pancake-making skills, just..." He took a deep breath and felt his lips curl upward as the day’s weight left him. "Thank you."
"You’re welcome. So we’re going to eat, then go lie in that death-trap you call a hammock and watch the moon."
"My hammock is not a death-trap." He muttered the words, but there was no annoyance behind them. Danny was making him pancakes and had brought him his favorite beer, and soon they’d get in the hammock, and Steve would show him just how much fun one could be.
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