haolehothead

Steve is, coincidentally, not cleaning his guns or any other weapons currently in his possession - though he had been considering it as a means of spending the somewhat uneventful afternoon.

"It's not exactly like I keep them laying around the house, Danny," he mutters.

Danny gives Steve a thoughtful look, by which he means he gives Steve a look that says 'I know exactly how many weapons you have, you freakish man' and then he gestures to the beach. "And number two, because I don't need to babysit twiceover, I want you in sight of me and Grace. No doing your Steve thing."

Truthfully, if he gave it enough thought, Danny probably only has a small fraction of an idea of the number of weapons Steve currently has in his possession - though a good number of them are also at Five-O headquarters.

"What does that even mean?" he asks, squinting over at Danny.

"You know exactly what I mean. You are not about to swim five miles just to prove you can or do some other insane thing just so you stay out of our way. You, march, now," Danny commands. And maybe he wants to show Steve just why they can't be fuckbuddies.

"Anyone ever tell you you can kind of be a nag?" Steve points out, only half-serious as he quickly snags a beer of his own and trudges out to the backyard.

Once his feet hit the sand, he kicks off his sandals and goes the rest of the way barefoot, taking a subtle swig of his beer and finding a seat in one of the beach chairs near to where Grace is playing.

"Yes, and her name was Rachel, and I heard it every day," Danny deadpans, considering that he doesn't need to hear any more on this subject. "Jesus, McGarrett, when'd I marry you, huh?" He takes the lead and heads over to Gracie, grinning broadly and catching her up in his arms.

"See? I brought Steve. Now he can't sulk on his own."

Steve, to his credit, attempts a friendly smile, but he can tell it comes out looking incredibly awkward instead, and he leans back in the beach chair, effectively wedging his feet deep into the sand.

"So, Grace - you like to swim? 'Cause your dad here, he doesn't like to swim."

He leans forward, effecting a good stage whisper.

"Personally, I don't think he knows how."

"Hey! Hey, no corrupting the minors!" Danny shouts, clasping his hands over Grace's ears and trying to keep her from hearing libel of that sort. "My daughter doesn't need to know those kinds of lies. I swim just fine, I swim great, I just don't swim like everyone else in this place. I don't swim where jellyfish and sharks get me!"

Grace just quirks a disbelieving look up at Danny and pries his hands off her ears. "I like to swim," she says thoughtfully. "I guess."

"Sharks and jellyfish don't come into waters this shallow," Steve mentions, a piece of information casually tossed out there in case Danny is actually listening (unlikely) decides to ignore it altogether (probably).

"Well, you are more than welcome to come and play at the beach here any time," he tells Grace.

Except for the occasional evenings where his house is under siege by former SEALs, but he just won't extend an invitation.

Danny hasn't exactly told Grace that he's living with Steve just yet, because he's got newspapers out and is looking for new apartments by the day. So he's glad that Steve extends the invitation. Grace just grins and hands Danny her t-shirt and shorts as she heads for the shore and tentatively pokes her foot in the water.

"You're sure the native wildlife here is docile?" Danny asks.

Steve balances his beer on his kneecap, nodding to reassure Danny.

"No more than you'd find on any beach in Jersey," he shoots back, giving his partner a sidelong smirk.

"...Steven, that is terrifying," Danny snaps at him. "Have you seen Jersey wildlife? It's all orange skin and guys named Ronnie, and GTL'ing. Do you know how happy I was to not know what GTL meant? I was ecstatic. And now, now look at me. Now I know. There are some things you just don't need to understand."

He tries to settle, but Gracie keeps his constant attention. He has got a newspaper and a red maker, circling ads when he's not watching his daughter like a hawk.

GTL? Steve mouths silently, before choosing not to say anything out loud. There are some things he's better off not knowing, either.

"What are you doing?"

He's asking the question out of politeness; he can already see what Danny's doing from his seat.

"I'm looking for a place to live, what does it look like I'm doing?" Danny says, muttering as he looks up and watches a new wave come in and crash over Grace's head. He's high-strung with worry. She's too little for this, a voice in the back of his head says, she shouldn't be out there alone.

"Take your time," Steve quietly replies. "You don't have to worry about looking for anything new right away."

Despite the fact that he's having to get used to Danny's listing off several new things he doesn't like about the island instead of his own quiet thoughts in the morning, he actually doesn't mind having his partner around.

"She's fine," he murmurs, sensing Danny's concern.

"I'm cashing in on your hospitality," Danny says, his grip on the pen tight as he stares out to the sand. "I can't keep doing that, especially considering I still feel awkward as hell." He exhales deeply when the waves recede and Grace is still fine. "No riptide here either, right?"

"You're not," Steve insists. "It's no big deal."

He shakes his head slowly, lips parting around the top of his beer bottle.

Well, that's one way to get Danny to stop staring at his kid for a couple seconds. Steve fellates the bottle and Danny makes a tiny little noise caught in the back of his throat that he masks with a cough as he goes back to circling ads and watching Grace. "It's a big deal, okay? It's a big deal because this isn't how people live together. This is a bad situation and I'm gonna find a new place."

It's an unconscious action, which explains why he looks up, mouth peeling away, when Danny coughs all of a sudden.

"I'm not saying it has to be a permanent thing, I'm just - you don't have to stress yourself out worrying how everything's going to work out when it'll probably work itself out."

"And will the Apartment Fairy be working these things out for me?" Danny asks, sarcasm heavy in his tone. He might be going overboard with it, in fact, to get away from embarrassing sex noises he makes around Steve.

Steve gives him a look.

"Whatever, Danny. You want to leave, be my guest."

"I'm just saying!" Danny gestures expansively, his voice raising past the normal decibel level like it tends to when he gets worked up, "that it's not a good idea for you and me to be bunk-buddies or roommates or whatever when we've got this thing between us."

"We're in completely different rooms," Steve interrupts, pretty much before Danny's even finished with his sentence.

"What, do you think I'm going to jump you while you're sleeping?" He scoffs quietly. "I'm pretty sure I got the hint after the other night."

"It wasn't a..." he trails off, pausing because Grace is just there and he'll be damned if she has to hear this. "It's not that I don't want you, jesus, McGarrett, puff your ego back up. I'm just saying that given our partnership and our situation, we are not having a one night stand despite how much I want to one night stand the crap out of you."

"Then what are you saying, Danny?" Steve hisses, casting a brief glance in Grace's direction before his gaze settles on his partner's face again.

"Just - talk to me."

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