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As a general rule, Danny enjoys buying presents. It’s an easy way to express emotions without having to name them – a kind of loophole that lets him pour his love into material gifts, which eliminates the chance that he embarrasses himself by accidentally tearing up during some great speech.
That’s the theory, though. In practice, it’s not always that simple.
He’s at his local corner store, picking up some toilet paper, when his eye catches on the stall with holiday decorations and he’s struck by how close Christmas is getting, and how he has all his presents ready except one. It’s not because he’s been slacking in his preparations, either – this one last present has been on his mind for weeks now, and he still has no idea what it should be. He’s stumped, and not afraid to admit it.
Okay, a little afraid, maybe. But only because it’s always been a big deal, buying presents for this person, and this year suddenly it’s a huge deal, for some reason he can’t quite put his finger on.
Fingers. Maybe that’s where the problem lies.
The store is empty save for him and an elderly woman that’s been perusing the cat food section since before he came in. He doesn’t feel too guilty about chatting with the girl behind the register as she’s counting out the change for his toilet paper, because he’s not holding up a line, that’s for sure.
On the other hand, chatting might be a bit of a loose definition for the way he blurts, “What do you get someone who puts their finger inside of you and saves your life?”
The check-out girl chews her gum and blinks at him, radiating boredom with everything he is and does. “Lube?” she suggests.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he says slowly, accepting his change back, “but it wasn’t that kind of finger.”
The girl lifts a single eyebrow. He is at once very glad that he raised Grace better than this, and completely cowed because he knows, deep down, that he will never reach the level of cool that this girl has. “It should be,” she says. “It makes everything much easier and far more enjoyable.”
Danny grabs his bag and gets the hell out of there, before he can be lectured any further on safe sex by a damn college kid.
The thing is, though. The thing is, that now that he’s realized just how many short days there are left until Christmas, and just how completely he’s failed at finding Steve a fitting present this year so far, his brain won’t let it go. So when he gets home, he opens the door, drops the toilet paper on the doormat, closes the door and hops in his car, because hell, he was having an aimless kid-free Saturday anyway.
Time for a shopping trip.
*
In the second store, a young man comes up to him. The kid is so fresh he’s more of a boy, really. He’s gangly, he’s tall enough to dwarf Steve, and his nameplate is upside-down. Danny can see the unreadable letters perfectly, because they’re pinned exactly at eye height for him.
“Hello, sir,” the boy says, with the kind of studied, by-the-book politeness of recent hires, “how can I assist you in your shopping today?”
So Danny risks a crick in his neck to look up at the kid and give explaining his conundrum another try. “I have this friend and there’s a little piece of me inside of him and now I have no fucking clue how to top that, as far as Christmas gifts go.”
“You want to top your friend?” the boy asks, going a little red under his pimples as soon as he’s said it.
Danny is thrown back to that time the previous Governor ordered all of Five-0 to attend his charity ball, and to the write-in auctions at that ball. “No, no, he’s the topper,” he almost says, but doesn’t, because this conversation has finally made him aware of the innuendo, five years after the fact. Did Steve realize what Danny said at the time?
“I think you misunderstand,” he says instead, and then does some really quick introspection. “Or… maybe that’s me. Huh.”
“I don’t, uh, know how to help you with that, sir,” the boy says, looking genuinely upset about it. “Sorry.”
Danny feels a wave of sympathy. He reaches all the way up to give the boy a friendly slap on the shoulder that he hopes is at least a tiny bit reassuring. “Hey, it’s fine, buddy. I think I might be beyond help anyway.”
The boy nods. He doesn’t look very convinced, but neither is Danny, so that makes two of them.
*
At the third store, he’s looking at kitchenware – he’s in Steve’s kitchen all the time anyway, so maybe a cooking pot? maybe a knife, because Steve likes dangerous and pointy things? – when a middle-aged woman wearing the store logo on her shirt comes up to him. “Good afternoon, sir,” she says, and she immediately gives off the impression that she knows infinitely more about kitchenware than he does, but would gladly guide him through it with a gentle hand. “How are you today?”
“Good, thanks,” he lies.
“Is there anything I can assist you with? That is a very nice set of frying pans you’re looking at.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty,” he agrees absently. “But hey, since you’re asking, if your boss rented you a hotel room for a weekend two days after you met and he more or less kidnapped you into working with him, what would you get that boss seven years later?”
The woman turns away from the frying pans to give him an unimpressed look. “A restraining order, probably. Maybe a sexual harassment claim, if I were feeling generous.”
“Thanks. That’s very helpful,” he lies again.
*
At the fourth store, he has to actually go look for an employee who has time to talk to him. He finds one stacking boxes of unicorn toys that supposedly both talk and shoot tiny rainbow discs out of their asses. He briefly plays with the idea of getting Steve one of those, but then discards it as the stupidest thought he’s had so far.
“Hey,” he therefore says to the nice young woman building the unicorn pyramid, “could I trouble you for some advice?”
She stops what she’s doing and gives him a sunny smile. “Of course, sir.”
“Thank you,” he says, because he’s pretty sure he’ll need to say it anyway after this. “So, say you have a colleague who once accidentally booked both of you for a weekend of couples counselling together at a luxury retreat, and also tells you he loves you like it’s the solution to every problem he could possibly be having. What would you get that colleague for Christmas?”
Her sunny smile doesn’t waver. “Maybe an engagement ring, sir?”
He nods along with her suggestion, but then drags a hand over his face and looks around. He plants his hands in his sides as he takes in all the violent unicorns and pirate Legos and dino trainer Barbies. “I think I’m in the wrong store,” he realizes.
“I have to agree, sir,” she says, not unkindly. She helpfully points in the direction of the exit before she returns to stacking mythical horses.
*
At the tenth store, he’s getting a little tired and a lot hopeless. He’s been everywhere, and nothing has caught his attention or felt meaningful enough. He’s not even really looking at the merchandise anymore, just wandering the aisles of Home Depot and thinking about drills and Steve and Steve drilling things, when he is stopped by a salesclerk who materializes in the middle of the aisle he’s walking down.
“Hello,” he says, before she can, feeling like he’s flipping the script after having had so many of these conversations in the span of a handful of hours.
“Hello,” she replies, friendly, but also firmly not moving out of his way. Maybe he stuck out as a bit of a weirdo that needed attention. He can’t blame her. “How can I help you today, sir?”
He takes a deep breath and shakes out his arms in preparation for all of the gesturing he’s about to do.
“Okay, so, the strictly hypothetical situation is as follows: you’re looking for a Christmas gift for your best friend, okay, and nothing seems right even though you’ve been to what feels like every damn store in town by now, and while you’ve been explaining your problem to all the loyal, wonderful people working there, you’ve started to realize that maybe there’s been a suspicious amount of innuendo between you and your friend – who is also coincidentally your boss, by the way – over the past seven years, and an even more telling number of love declarations, and you’ve both had girlfriends but at least for you, really, that’s just been about the sex in recent years, you’ve realized, which is kind of shitty of you but also makes sense because your friend already fulfills all your emotional and companionship needs despite how emotionally stunted you accuse him of being every single day, and he’s also filled all holes in your life that you could possibly have – including a literal one in your chest, imagine that-”
“Sir,” the salesclerk says, but he can’t let her get a word in edgewise. He’s on a roll now. Who needs therapy when there’s Christmas shopping?
“-and this guy, right, he’s more or less a stepdad to your kids, who he cares about just as much as you do, which makes you feel all kinds of stupid and mushy feelings, and he’s always been there for you through everything life threw at you anyway, whether it was a custody battle or your criminal little brother getting kidnapped and murdered by a Columbian drug lord which broke your heart-”
“Sir,” the clerk dutifully tries again.
“-and maybe you, you know, have always known that you like the way his face looks and his shirts stretch over his chest and maybe you even like it a little more than you probably should as a strictly platonic friend-type person, but even that has started to make sense as you traumatized various innocent shop clerks across the island, because now you’re pretty sure that you don’t just love this guy, you’re in love with him, even though you know that’s a monumentally stupid decision on your heart’s part, because DADT may have been repealed by now but that doesn’t mean that your presumably straight ex-Navy buddy will just jump into your waiting arms, right, like what the fuck, you, but you’re also kind of a hopeless romantic deep down, so you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for some kind of unrealistic Christmas miracle shit, which-”
“Sir!” the salesclerk yells, and Danny has to give her points for determination, which just reminds him of someone else he knows who is terribly, beautifully stubborn, and how did he not realize the nature of his feelings for Steve any earlier? It’s so obvious.
“Yes?” Danny asks, because apparently that, reminding him of Steve, was what the woman needed to do to get him to listen to her.
“There is someone right behind you and he looks like what you’re saying means something to him.” She points in his direction, and he’s confused for a moment.
Then he’s horrified. He can’t know who it is, but he does, of course he does.
He turns.
“You’re in love with me?” Steve asks. He’s holding a box of screws, which is hilarious – because screw him for being here, seriously – and his eyes are very wide, staring down at Danny in silent shock.
“Oh,” Danny says, because sure, of course, why wouldn’t this be happening right now? He lets out a laugh that even to his own ears sounds shrill and frenzied. “No, buddy, I just- A prank. That’s still a thing the youth does, right? I guess I, uh, I must have confused Christmas, you know, and April Fool’s, because that’s- That’s totally a thing that happens to people, on this ridiculous island that has no clearly demarcated seasons- And so-” He trails off, because it doesn’t matter if he just got caught yelling in a public place about how much he loves Steve, he still can’t deal with Steve’s puppy eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that, huh?”
“You’re in love with me,” Steve repeats, omitting the question mark.
“No, hey, no, you’re completely disregarding everything I just said in my very plausible explanation of current events,” Danny says, and then, in the same breath, “but also yes. Very much so. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Steve breathes. He leans in, and it’s awkward because Danny thinks he’s going for a hug and dodges Steve’s head to avoid a collision when that was exactly what Steve had in mind, after a fashion. He was moving in for a kiss, holy shit. Steve makes a whiny, frustrated noise and grabs Danny’s chin with one of his hands, and that’s when Danny finally catches on and hey, there it is, they get it right on the second try.
And the third. Maybe the fourth, depending on how you’re counting, because there’s not actually a lot of time or space between kisses.
“Sirs!”
Danny breaks away from Steve, as sorrowful as that makes him, because the poor Home Depot employee didn’t sign up for this. It’s almost Christmas, so he’s trying to find some sympathy in his heart.
He looks up at Steve. It’s a mistake, because Steve is looking at him like he wants to eat him. Danny feels his hands twitch and he takes a good step backwards so he’ll be able to keep them off of Steve.
Thing is, it doesn’t really work all that well, because Steve glides the same distance forward.
“Sirs, if you’re not here to buy anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the salesclerk says, frowning like she doesn’t get paid enough, which is probably true.
Steve holds up the box of screws, which miraculously hasn’t landed on one of Danny’s feet while they were making out. “I’m taking this.”
Danny, who had almost forgotten that he’s been running around town for hours, sees an opening here. He grabs the box from Steve’s hand. “No, I’m taking this.”
“Great,” the salesclerk says. She turns and gestures for them to follow her, presumably to the cash register so she can politely push them towards the exit faster. “Let me help you with that purchase.”
Steve puts a guiding hand on Danny’s lower back as they follow the woman. It’s unnecessary, because it’s not like Danny is likely to get lost walking five feet behind someone at Home Depot, but it’s not altogether unwelcome.
“So, can I ask why you’re paying for those?” Steve inquires. He doesn’t sound like he has any objections, but like he’s curious and entertained and a little endeared, like he’s some anthropologist trying to figure out why apes groom each other.
“It’s an early Christmas gift,” Danny tells him. “I thought you heard the speech I was giving?”
“I only came in around innuendo.”
“You always do.”
“That makes literally zero sense,” Steve informs him, not entirely unfairly, even though that doesn’t mean Danny won’t argue about it until he drops. Into a bed, preferably, with Steve still bickering back right next to him. “Besides,” Steve continues, “there’s something much better you could give me.”
Danny hits Steve’s stomach with the back of his screw-free hand. It’s because he wants the contact more than because the conversation really demands it, probably. Sue him, it’s a very nice stomach. “What’s that? And if you say ‘you’, so help me-”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“So then what?”
“I don’t think I should be telling you this in public.” Steve grins and leans closer, and Danny very briefly considers leaning away, just to see if Steve would keep tilting until he falls over. “Let’s just say it seems very symbolic that you’re buying me a box of screws.”
Danny wiggles his eyebrows at him. “You came around innuendo, huh?”
“Can I ring that up for you?” the long-suffering salesclerk asks, who is now, on top of everything else, far too knowledgeable about Danny’s not-yet-existent sex life. Danny does feel a little bad about that. He tears his eyes away from Steve’s excited grin to find that they’ve arrived at the register, at some point, apparently.
“Yes, please,” he says. He hands her the screws.
Steve’s hand goes to his back pocket like he’s reaching for his wallet. Danny stares for a second and then his reflexes kick in and he slaps his hand down over Steve’s, which still happens to be on Steve’s ass. “We’re in public, Danno,” Steve points out.
Danny snatches his hand back and does his very best to act like he’s a grown man who would never, ever turn red the way Grace once did when a boy winked at her in Danny’s presence. “I know that,” he hisses back. He gets out his own wallet to strengthen his point. “But I’m paying, remember?”
“You were serious about that? It’s a bit of an odd Christmas gift.”
Danny feels weirdly protective of the small carton box of screws now. “Would you rather have a toy unicorn that shoots rainbows?”
Steve studies Danny like he’s not sure Danny isn’t making shit up. He seems to decide to just go with it, because he shrugs. “Could be useful as a weapon. You never know.”
“God, I’m glad I didn’t buy you a knife.”
Steve, the complete maniac, looks touched. “You were going to buy me a knife?”
The salesclerk, meanwhile, has given up on her endless “sir”-ing. She gently takes Danny’s wallet from his distracted hands, pulls out a bill and starts counting out his change, without any input from his side. Danny watches her bemusedly for a moment, before he comes to the conclusion that she’s doing fine on her own and he turns back to Steve.
“It was a cooking knife, Steve. The kind you use to chop vegetables.” He uses his two newly free hands to chop one on the palm of the other. “Not the kind you should be throwing at anything or anyone or stabbing people with.”
“Any knife can be used to throw or stab,” Steve reasons.
“You’re hopeless.”
“That reminds me, I still think you should let me teach Grace-”
“Do you want the receipt?” the salesclerk asks. Her timing is impeccable, because Danny really, really doesn’t want Steve to finish that sentence just when Danny’s been feeling so warm and fuzzy about the world.
“No, thanks,” he tells the clerk. He accepts his wallet back and fishes five dollars from it. She deserves about a hundred times that for all her troubles, but his salary doesn’t quite cover that kind of extravagant philanthropy. “Here’s a tip.”
She looks at the money dubiously. “Sir, that’s not really something we do here.”
“It’s the holiday season. I’m feeling generous.”
“I could get fired.”
“Ah. Right.” He sheepishly puts the money back and hides his wallet away. He looks at Steve for help, because he’s out of ideas, here.
“We’ll write you a letter,” Steve offers.
“A letter?” Danny is glad to find that, even after they’ve shifted their relationship to a point where it includes kissing, he’s still able to convey utter incredulity at Steve’s existence through as little as two words. “What good is that going to do her?”
Steve looks well-meaning with the kind of determination he usually reserves for catching criminals. It’s very cute, actually. “We’ll address it to her boss and write about how helpful she’s been and how much she deserves a raise and we’ll get the Governor to sign it.”
“Huh,” Danny says, surprised despite himself. “That’s kind of sweet, babe. In a very weird way.”
“Uh, I don’t know if-” The salesclerk falls silent, apparently struck speechless. Danny is amazed that this, out of all the things she witnessed them do, is what gets to her.
“Just take it,” he tells her. “If you don’t accept this, he’ll come up with something even more ridiculous, trust me.”
She frowns. “Well, alright. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Steve tells her, right before he grabs Danny and hauls him out of the store. Danny only barely manages to grab the screws and give the salesclerk a wave goodbye. She doesn’t wave back, but he doesn’t blame her in the slightest.
In the parking lot, Danny stops short, which pulls Steve to a halt as well. Steve looks back and for a brief second, Danny is afraid he’s going to be thrown over Steve’s shoulder and carried fireman-style, but eventually Steve leaves him with both feet firmly on the ground. It’s a very smart decision on Steve’s part.
“We didn’t even get her name,” Danny says. “How are we going to write her that letter?”
Steve lets go of Danny’s arm to wave his objections away. “It’s fine. We’ll get Jerry on it.”
Danny tries to mimic Steve’s gesture. He ends up rattling the screws like a maraca instead. “Why are you in such a hurry all of a sudden?” Danny can’t relate. He feels like he can finally relax a little, now that everything is working out strangely perfectly, and that’s a rare feeling for him and his usually so anxious brain.
For the very first time since their kiss – five minutes ago now, maybe, even though it’s already like they’ve been doing this forever – Steve looks a smidgen unsure. He takes a step closer to Danny, and he’s trying so hard to be subtle about it that it’s like he just dropped a hammer in a church. It’s not just loud, it’s also confusing. “I thought maybe we could exchange Christmas gifts early this year,” Steve says, still so obviously subtle that it’s not subtle at all.
“What’s wrong with waiting for-” That, exactly that, is how far Danny’s mouth gets before his brain catches up. “Oh. Oh.”
In a sudden flash of either clarity or arousal or, inexplicably, both, he fully understands and shares Steve’s urgency. He catches Steve’s eye, and Steve grins and Danny can’t at all be blamed for pulling Steve into a short, chaste kiss right there, in the middle of the parking lot of Honolulu’s most garishly orange hardware store. As soon as they separate, Danny is walking again. Steve gets left behind, but he catches up in two strides of his long legs.
“You’re here in the Camaro?”
“Yes. Did you come in your truck?”
“Not important,” Steve says. “We can leave it here. The Camaro is faster.”
“That’s a really awful idea on many levels,” Danny tells him, even as he hands Steve the car keys.
And if for once he complains significantly less about Steve’s lack of respect for speed limits, well, Christmas is a time for forgiveness, after all.