twentysomething

Title: That Time In My Car

Fandom: Hawaii Five-0

Pairing: Steve/Danny

Summary: ""Let me see if I've got this straight," Steve says, still staring straight out the windshield, eyes anally-fixed on their suspect's house. "Rachel has her for Easter, so you got Thanksgiving. And you split Christmas." Steve frowns. Danny sighs and waits for the inevitable wise-ass comment."

Length: 950 wordsish.

Warnings: Seasonal themes of familial togetherness, threats of dry stuffing.

Notes: So, while leupagus has been away from my clingy arms, I have been bookmarking Thanksgiving recipes like a crazy person, and it got me thinking about how Rachel and Danny deal with the holidays, and then this happened. (Also, I'm wondering if anyone's realized all my H-5-O fics have Beach Boys lyrics as song titles.)



Steve looks like the Terminator, staring out the window, because clearly, no one ever told him stakeouts are for slumping in your seat with bad coffee and marshmallows.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Steve says, still staring straight out the windshield, eyes anally-fixed on their suspect's house. "Rachel has her for Easter, so you got Thanksgiving. And you split Christmas." Steve frowns. Danny sighs and waits for the inevitable wise-ass comment.

"Who gets Labor Day?" he finally asks and Danny just looks heaven- well, roof-ward- for strength.

"You. You can have Labor Day. It's not even a real holiday." Danny grumbles. Steve just waggles his eyebrows, like Danny's grandpa used to, with a big Groucho Marx cigar.

"You're going to forget all about this conversation, but I'm holding you to that." Steve threatens and Danny rolls his eyes.

"What, you got some big McGarrett Family Labor Day Jamboree?" Danny asks, even as he tries to wrap his mind around any McGarrett Family Togetherness at all. Steve snorts.

"Nah, I'll teach her how to surf." Steve says and, after a moment of Danny trying to destroy him with the power of his mind, darts his eyes over to Danny as if to say, "Eh? Eh? Aren't I so cute?" and Danny wishes he'd brought scotch, instead of coffee, to the stakeout.

"Anyway, what're you two going to do? For Thanksgiving." Steve prompts, back to staring mercilessly. Danny doesn't really think he's blinking. Danny shrugs.

"We eat Fruit Loops," Danny says. "And watch the parade." Steve swings his head around slowly to stare at Danny.

"What?" Danny finally demands after a solid ten seconds of staring.

"Fruit Loops," Steve says flatly, like Danny's committing mass-genocide. Danny frowns at Steve.

"Yeah, Fruit Loops, they're a cheerfully-colored breakfast cereal, sugary and delicious?" Danny tries. "Or what, you're an All-Bran man? Keeps you constant?" Steve looks like he's counting to ten in like, a yoga trance.

"You're coming to my house for Thanksgiving," Steve says, his constipated power-face in rare form as he looks back out the window. Danny raises his eyebrows, completely giving up on actually focusing on his job. Besides, Steve is watching the house with so much focus that it might spontaneously combust.

"Uh, why?" Danny asks, as calmly as possible. When Steve kidnaps him, it usually goes better if he knows why. Steve rolls his eyes.

"Because I'm not subjecting Grace to that. I don't know if you've heard of them, but there are food groups, and Thanksgiving dinner should cover more than just the diabetic junk block in the pyramid." Steve snipes and Danny just stares at him.

"I can't believe this is coming from someone who I've seen eat SPAM," Danny finally says. Steve fucking pouts at Danny.

"It's an is-" Steve starts and Danny rolls his eyes.

"I swear to god, McGarrett, if you say it's an "island thing," I will slap you across your face." Danny swears. Steve sighs.

"Look, just. Mary will make really dry stuffing and I'll even let you carve the bird." Steve says after a long moment. Danny raises his eyebrows.

"Wait, what?" Danny asks, grinning. "You'd hand the knife over." Steve rolls his eyes in return.

"It's not a big deal," Steve shrugs. Danny just stares at him.

"Steve, that is the biggest deal I can imagine." Danny argues. Steve shrugs again.

"Then you're probably going to freak out when I ask you to dinner on Friday." Steve says, still staring straight ahead and yeah, that's probably what this feeling is. Freaking out.

"... Did you just ask me out?" Danny finally asks. Steve sort of smirks, one corner of his mouth barely lifting up as he uses some totally unnecessary binoculars.

"Yeah. You gonna say yes?" Steve shoots back. Danny opens his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

"Like a date?" Danny tries again, because this scenario has embarrassing misunderstanding all over it. Steve shrugs.

"Yeah." Steve glances at Danny quickly. "Is that your way of asking if I'm paying?"

Danny feels like he's living in bizarro world.

"Well, you did ask me," he finds himself saying. Steve grins.

"You haven't said yes." Steve points out. Danny narrows his eyes at Steve who- infuriatingly- shrugs again. "I'm trying not to be presumptuous, here."

"At what point have you not been presumptuous?" Danny demands, because that's pretty much the definition of their partnership. Steve practically bats his eyelashes at Danny.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman, but I could just tumble you into the backseat now, if you'd like," Steve says, and even though there's something to be asked for in the way he's back to staring out the window, Danny still feels an undeniable jerk somewhere in the bottom of his stomach.

His face feels hot.

"I really object to you making me the girl, here." Danny mutters and Steve has the baby-aneurysm face on.

"Fine, then you can pay, and be the man." Steve offers and Danny crosses his arms over his chest.

"I didn't say yes!" Danny cries. Steve just sighs, turns and kisses the ever-loving hell out of Danny.

"Danno, I can't believe you'd brave a major holiday with my sister and not-" Steve starts but Danny just kisses him again, because Jesus, Steve's mouth is slick-hot and tastes faintly like coffee and Danny can't get enough.

"Just shut the fuck up, I'll go to dinner with you, I'll carve the turkey whatever, just, fuck, shut up," Danny mumbles against Steve's lips and ignores the smug-ass grin he feels there.

Steve would probably fuck up the turkey, Danny’s saving Thanksgiving.

For America.