haolehothead: (au: so tiny)

It's morning and Danny, Danny has always hated mornings. It's not like he has to get up, now. Rapture is sealed off again and Steve and all the gun-happy people at the ITF have made sure that no one's getting out, which means that Danny gets to sleep. In fact, it means he can absolutely scoot over and wrap his arms around Steve to get him closer. What's not expected is when Danny slides in and his hand brushes against a very firm, very round breast.

Right, okay, so, this is strange. It could just be Rachel, though. He peeks one eye open and finds that no, Rachel's hair is not that brown and Rachel does not have those tattoos, which means that Danny's day is officially fucked.

"Damn it, Steve," Danny groans and as soon as he hears his own voice, he knows it's not only Steve who's affected. With an ugly laugh and a disbelieving grin, he shakes his head and sighs. "Steven," he sighs. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."
haolehothead: (au: so tiny)
When Danny wakes up in a body that's not his, not even remotely, he sort of lies in bed and hates life for a while. He huffs and he puffs and he kicks the covers and he stares at the ceiling with his arms crossed until the feeling of breasts under his arms gets too weird and then he uncrosses them. It's not like this was funny the first time, but at least he's not eighteen years old this go-around.

Still, it's not like that makes it better.

Danny mumbles complaint and excuses to a sleepy Steve, grabbing hold of a robe and knotting it over the white t-shirt and boxers he likes to sleep in, staggering down the beach to Rachel's door. He knocks on the door, knowing that he might wake Jess up, but right now, Rachel's his best bet for booze and a shoulder to bitch to. "Rachel," Danny sighs. "Rachel, open up. I need comfort in the form of whatever liquor you hide in there."
haolehothead: (glow: by ?)
This whole 'having a seal' thing is kind of starting to baffle Danny. He knows that he's not keeping the thing as a pet, but the animal keeps showing up on the rocks near shore and barking at him in the morning, prompting the dog to bark back. Right now, Danny's dragging thick rocks from the shoreline towards the ocean to try and build up some kind of little palatial paradise for the seal.

And he's trying to tell himself that he is not allowed to put khakis on the thing so it better resembles its namesake.

Zulu and the seal are having a goddamn barking contest and Danny swears he's getting a migraine by the second. He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks between the two. "You're gonna drive me crazy," he informs the animals. "You know that?"
haolehothead: (headache: by ?)
After everything the past few weeks have delivered, Danny shouldn't be surprised when life tries to kick him when he's down and right now, said kicking is helped along by the fact that his stitches have busted loose and he feels like he can't breathe. Every inhalation accompanies a burst of fire and he's trying to get home because it's closer to there than the Compound and Steve will find him.

Steve has to find him. Shit, if they're going to relive the disaster in the woods, then he's not going to be able to take it.

Clutching his side (his white button-down stained with a blossom of red), he manages to make it to the hut, using his good shoulder to burst through the door, catching his breath the moment after. "Steve," he calls out, pained. "Steve, I need -- I need your help, babe. Please!"
haolehothead: (gnaw the lip: by ?)
While he's coming to the realization that he's going to be trapped in the clinic for the foreseeable future, it doesn't mean that he has to be completely useless. He's hauled in all of the IPD files to do with the impending Halloween threat and has a pen and has begun to make notes on level of severity and plans in the event the visions come to fruition. It's a way to keep his mind off of Esther and Steve and everything.

The papers and the sheets start to slip as they have been all day and Danny shifts, struggling in order to yank them up without causing too much stress on the wound. He hisses, loudly, and screws up his eyes, grabbing the sheets with one fist as he rides out the pain.

"Motherfuck," he hisses, but then he's better. He feels better.

Well, as better as he's gonna get these days.
haolehothead: (injured)
For all that Danny had complained about the possibility of Steve getting him shot, winding up stabbed by his not-so-daughter-like-daughter hadn't exactly been up there on the list of things he had expected. After all, that's insane, isn't it? It should be. And yet, here he is in the clinic with stitches up and down his sides to prevent his guts from spilling out and Esther is dead and Steve isn't under his roof and Danny doesn't know what to do right now except bitch more about the pain.

Because that? That is in his control. "Come on, who's got the power over the morphine here?" he shouts, voice a weak resemblance of what it could be. "I'm dying over here."
haolehothead: (wrecked: by followtomorrow)
He doesn't have that long.

By all rights, Danny shouldn't have left the hut at all, but standing there with all that silence and staring at Esther's arm only brought him back to thoughts of Steve, who's packed a bag of his things and has gone -- well, fuck knows where the hell he's gone, but he's not at home anymore and it's just so painfully much like the final days with Rachel that Danny's on autopilot.

Instead of a seedy motel, though, he heads for a friend. At least he's improved as far as good choices go. Without even knowing how much time has passed, Danny finds himself at Neil's doorstep. His hand hovers in front of the door, but he can't knock. Instead, he sags down and sits in front of Neil's house in shock and the kind of horror that accompanies a fight like this.

What the fuck is happening to his life, that's what he wants to know.
haolehothead: (all in white: by ?)
Danny's pretty sure that one day, and one day soon, Steve's going to end up snapping and cutting off the beard in his sleep. Truthfully, Danny's pretty enamored of the damn thing, though that might have a great heaping deal to do with the fact that he got to grow it out alongside his hair and nothing's compelled him to shave it off lately.

Still, as he tries on vests and pants in the bedroom of the hut, he wonders if Rachel's going to have his head on a platter if he shows up to her wedding with scruff that could serve as the envy of the general population. "Steve?" he calls, poking his head out of the bedroom as he unknots his tie and unbuttons the vest, searching through the pile on the bed for the next combination. "Did the SEALs teach you to match? Hell, the boy scouts, whatever, I need a second opinion over wedding attire," he summons, snapping his fingers.

Zulu comes running, so at least one thing under the roof listens to him.
haolehothead: (let's be clear: by followtomorrow)
Danny feels like he's running on empty and there aren't any fuel stations around for miles and miles. Yeah, he's giddy as anything to have this kind of purpose in his life again, but taking care of a kid while trying to work a full-time job, two part-time jobs, cope with a new husband, and whatever the hell was going on with people's nightmares was bad enough. Apparently, too, friends wanted to see you.

He had a box of cookies as he made his way to Neil's place, hoping that an apology would at least do the trick and earn him some sympathy for the coming weeks while he tried to find the right balance to keep his life in check. He leans his elbow up against the wood of the door, giving it a light knock. "Anybody home?"
haolehothead: (wrecked: by followtomorrow)
The night had passed in pretty much a blur and by the time Danny's on his way home -- tie loosened, jacket in hand -- that tumultuous turning in his stomach has gone from a background pang to something right in his view. He wants to be happy for Helen and he is. God, he is. He's always happy that his friends are continuing with their lives with all the happiness they deserve, but there's something that harkens back to Rachel and Grace with Helen in particular that catches him off-guard.

He tries to shake it off, managing a little better once he gets back to the hut and Zulu seems more than eager to greet him. "Hey, buddy. Your Dad home?" he asks, scratching under the dog's chin. "Steve?" he calls out. "Babe, you back yet?"

Danny continues the slow trudge to the bedroom, exhausted with just enough alcohol in his system to make him feel like he's lagging. He only bothers with the first three buttons of his shirt before he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, sprawling onto his back with a long exhale.
haolehothead: (raise your hand: by followtomorrow)
Danny is only acting as backup when it comes to this exercise. He's grateful to Chris for doing the requested damage, but there's still a part of him that cringes when he sees the way they've trashed the huts. He sighs and closes the door behind him, signalling to Nick and Kate that this is the one that's set-up the best for their exercise. He's the detective and if he's learned anything from his years on the job, it's that he ought to shut up when the lab shows up because he doesn't know half of what they do.

"Today," he advises to Kate as catches up to them, walking the last little distance, "Nick's your guy. You have a question, you ask him. If it's about the procedure of what happens after, that's me, but what I want you to do is take everything you've read and all that we talked about and go into this scene with an open mind. I want you to pick out the important pieces that might lead you to a suspect or give you a lead. Sound good?"

And maybe he can politely request that someone who owes community service hours can help tidy up the clusterfuck that's become of the huts.
haolehothead: (scratch it: by ?)
Danny's curious about whether the island has ever actually been kind without a healthy serving of cruelty dished alongside it. Today's one of those days. It's been a long day and he's not really expecting to be out as long as he is. By the time he gets home, he hopes that Steve isn't too pissed off. He'd talked to the Council, then a couple of IPD people, and then he'd swung by the new-and-(so not)improved clothes box for more professional wear, including some ties and jackets.

By the time he gets back to their home, he's too tired to even talk, let alone do anything else. He heads straight for the couch, grabbing Zulu to yank up alongside him so that when he sprawls face-down, the dog is right there alongside to offer whatever fuzzy support an animal of his age can. He gives a soft grunt when he hears footsteps approaching. "Steve, if that's you, I will marry you again if you rub the gargantuan knots out of my shoulders," he mumbles.
haolehothead: (ride a cowboy: by brad)
There's a couple of nice things that Danny appreciates about the world suddenly turning to desert and dust. For one, he gets to sleep without the sound of waves keeping him until the early hours of the morning. Plus, he gets to wear some amazing clothes and he's got a gun on him. He's just grateful to be practicing his accuracy once more, seeing as it's been a while and he'd started to get worried.

As it stands, he's working on putting together dinner for when Steve gets home -- just a simple vegetable stew and some beef that he's picked up from the Compound since there is no way in hell that he's looking a gift cow in the mouth, so to speak. With the heat rising from his small stove, he inches towards the door, kicking it open to let some of the steam out, giving Zulu a warning look as he pokes a wooden spoon in the dog's direction. "You even think about running and I'm letting Steve take you for a five-miler."
haolehothead: (sitting here: by followtomorrow)
When Danny first moved to Hawaii, he'd interviewed with the HPD wearing the tie Grace got him for Father's Day. They discussed his eighty-seven successful homicide closed cases, they talked about what brought him to the island, and he had the job within days. Six months later, he had precious few allies and one of the best partners he could ever ask for. Six months after that, he's suddenly shanghai'ed into Five-0, Meka's dead, and Steve McGarrett has him filling out more paperwork on a daily basis to the point that he's got new callouses that will never go away.

The point is, Danny's used to change. He's used to getting his job done and being the best police officer he can be -- regardless of the pushback he gets because he's a haole or because he wears ties in 90F heat. That doesn't matter to him. What matters is justice -- it's empathy and keeping families together -- and it's being a good man. Now, with Archie gone and the responsibility of the IPD in his hands, Danny has an idea of how he can continue to pursue those values here in a way that goes beyond patrols.

Plus, it helps that he's already in the midst of doing exactly that. He's got several books in his hands -- texts that he's been accumulating for a while for Kate -- but it's not Kate's door that he's at. It'd taken him a while, given the way the island had decided to go all Spaghetti Western on them, but he's finally here. He's made sure he has plenty of time just for this -- and time is something he's short of (he's had to shorten his hours at the bakery and the children's office, but it's worth it).

Right now, he's got a goal in mind and Danny Williams doesn't give up on something once he sinks his teeth into it.
haolehothead: (hard out here for a pimp: by followtomor)
When Danny first came up with this plan, he figured he'd have to get outside help for the destruction of property (not that he phrased it that way, but called it a 'upturning of the status quo' when he'd talked to Chris), but as much as he tries to recreate the crime-kit he brings to scenes, it's definitely not the same and Steve the Science Guy can only help so far. He needs some actual help when it comes to thinks like blacklights and print-grabbing.

Danny figures there's no harm in swinging by the lab. He'd do this at home all the time and he really should be keeping his relationship with them open in the event anything does go down again. It's why he's got a couple of donuts in hand with coffee when he knocks on the door that the lab and clinic splits. "Hey, anybody home," he jokes, heading straight for Nick (Nick? He thinks it's Nick, he just signed up for baseball) and offering out the food.
haolehothead: (nonsense: by ?)
As far as cake-baking attempts go, Danny's not the master. Sure, he can do a simple birthday cake, but Steve's? No, he'd needed the big guns for that, which is why he'd showed up to work on one of his days off. The result is worth it -- it's so worth it. He's got a grenade cake, made of chocolate and buttercreme wrapped up. It's only a week into the marriage, but Danny feels like not getting the right gift is pretty much a great way of starting off a marriage in a difficult way.

When he gets back, he makes sure it's tucked away in the ice box. When that's done, he strips down to his shorts and grabs his surfboard, waiting outside for Steve to get back. A surf, a swim, and a cake -- he figures if that's not what Steve wants (outside of some breakfast), then he's just out of luck.

March 7th

Mar. 4th, 2012 10:53 am
haolehothead: (sunny days: by ?)
Danny feels ridiculous. Genuinely and truly, he doesn't know that he's ever felt like more of a schmuck in his entire life, feeling as nervous as he does. He's in the main room of the hut, watching sports like something might actually change in the outcome of his Best Of DVDs if he just watches hard enough. Nothing does change.

Still, he stays nervous and he feels like he's about to do something that could simultaneously be the best and the worst thing that he's ever done in his entire life -- and it's tomorrow. He's getting hitched with Steve tomorrow. He's got his clothes hung up over the doorway, he's got a speech in mind for the reception, and he's even doing fairly okay with not having Grace there. He just can't shake the goddamn nerves.

"Shit," he mutters, getting up to get some air, leaving the door open before he returns to the best of the NHL, circa 2008. He's supposed to be calm about this. It's Steve. It's his best friend, it's the guy he's been with for over a year -- almost to the day, even -- and friends with for over a year before that.

Maybe the solution here is some booze, but Danny doesn't want to be that tragic kind of guy who does it all alone.
haolehothead: (side: by followtomorrow)
"Screw everybody else," Danny says emphatically. Between the little flirtation game and Steve's new affinity for phallic food, Danny's working so pent up that he actually might burst if the next ninety seconds pass and he doesn't find them a more private spot. "Hey, come on," he coaxes, pressing a finger to his lip to shush Steve as he coaxes him down the stairs. "Come on, forty-five seconds," he warns, still counting in his mind.
haolehothead: (all smiles: by ?)
Danny's actually pretty proud of himself for this. Kate's got that gun of hers, but there's a lot of lessons Danny wants to review before she fires it. He wants her to study the medical side of it (wants her to do a CPR course, too, but one of those quick ones and not the lengthy version), and he wants her to understand the assembly of the gun. In addition to that, there's a lot of practical tasks that are associated with the weapon and he's bringing her to New Pemberley to go over one of them today.

"So, the family's not here," he warns. "But I may have contacted a friend, who's been sent ahead," he says, taking hold of one of the water guns he's borrowed from Alistair -- at this rate, it's a whole-island-wide production. "Your job, today, is to clear all the rooms of the house and find the bad guy, me, without me 'shooting' you, first. So, remember what I talked about. When you clear a room, back is always to the wall. You move swift and you follow the edges of the walls to the corner, always keeping your eyesight clear of any blockages. You announce the room as clear the minute you finish it. You move into the house, clearing all checkpoints and ensuring there are no exits behind you, otherwise you need to set down a little flag," he says, wiggling one of the orange flags in his hand, "and we'll pretend that's a uniform to hold down that exit point."

"If I squirt you where a flak-vest goes, you can keep going," he says, gesturing to her torso. "If I get you in the neck, leg, head, arm, or otherwise, then we start over. If you find me, you announce 'freeze' and do not shoot unless there is a clear and present danger of being shot on. Your goal is to find the hostage and get them out without being shot at. Clear?"
haolehothead: (he has a point: by ?)
Danny's not sure why he didn't think of this sooner. The minute he passed along all the wedding duties to Steve, all his stress and tension just disappeared. It's almost like he doesn't really have to worry about it now that he's got the details in someone's capable hands. It's a pretty good feeling. That doesn't completely absolve him of his tasks, though, which is why he's at Clark's place with a decent bottle of wine and a couple glasses. "Hey, Kent, you in?" he asks, using the base of the glass to knock on the door. "I need some help with a speech."

And Superman, while good at saving the day, is also really good at being eloquent. Plus, now that Lois is here, Danny doesn't feel so bad to inundate Clark with some of the issues to do with his love life.

"There's wine in it for you," he adds, as if that'll do the trick.


haolehothead: (Default)
Danny Williams

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