Chapter Text
Danny knows his day is going to suck as soon as he gets out of bed. He doesn't wake up, of course, because that would require having gone to sleep the night before; something that doesn't happen when your insomnia tells you to go fuck yourself for two weeks.
His shower is ice cold to shock him awake, (which works absolutely not at all) and his coffee is scalding hot to do the same (which does work, if only from the caffeine). By the time he's dressed, he's awake enough that he trusts himself to drive, mostly.
He's mindful to grab the huge bunny he bought for Gracie. She's always loved rabbits, whether it was snuggling them or chasing them, and he really needs to see that bright smile on her face if he's going to make it through today. There's a familiar itch of fur beneath his skin -- an ever-present annoyance with a full moon rising at sundown -- and his instincts are taking increasing precedence.
Fuck, he needs to see his little girl.
He scrounges together his service weapon and his keys, makes sure he's not forgetting anything else, then heads over to Rachel and Stan's mansion. On the way, he nearly gouges marks into his steering wheel during a phone call trying to make headway on the McGarrett case, something that's been looming over his head since it was assigned to him. Apparently, everyone and their dog loved the guy, and he really isn't looking to be shunned even more for dropping the ball on it.
By the time he pulls up to Gracie's house, he's done, and he can barely get himself out of the car in a normal manner when he sees her coming down that long driveway. The instinct to shift runs up his spine (because a big, bad wolf is so much better for defending his pup than weak, human Danny) but he pushes it down and scoops his little girl up into a hug instead. He nuzzles his face into her hair and drinks in her scent, floral and earthy and... prey-like?
He pauses only long enough for Grace to press her face into his neck in turn, then pulls away to see one large, white rabbit in a carrier clutched in her hand. Its nose twitches nervously, but it's calm other than that.
Well, shit.
"Who's that?" Danny plasters on some fake joy like a bit of him didn't just wither and die.
"Mr. Hoppy!" declares Grace proudly. "Step-Stan bought him so I can take him to show-and-tell."
"...Good ol' Step-Stan." Danny's smile is tight and doesn't quite reach his eyes.
With a few quick words, fancy footwork, and a genuine grin (because he can't stay any sort of upset with his little pup's giggles in his ears and her smell in his nose), he gets that stupid, stuffed thing into the backseat and his Gracie into the front without her noticing. The thing is odorless, for the most part, and the car smells too strongly of him to notice it anyway. Nonetheless, as a distraction, he cranks the radio and they sing Sinatra together as they drive along. The verses are more hummed than sang, and their pitch is abysmal, but there's a grin on both their faces that they can't wipe off.
Too quickly, they reach Gracie's school. Excited to show off Mr. Hoppy, she's out of the car in an instant with a quick, "Bye, Danno!" Danny has to force himself not to hold the line watching her go inside and instead clings to that warm feeling in his chest. He keeps the Sinatra on, but lower now as he drives to the station.
He's only there to clock in before he heads to the McGarrett house, but the disdain is palpable from the moment he steps in. There are whispers behind his back, glares he can feel boring into his skull. He wonders if they know they're plenty loud enough for a werewolf to hear, or if they simply don't care.
He tries not to let it bother him since he's only been here a couple of months. After all, it's not like his precinct in Newark was super close when he first got started, either. There, however, the air wasn't nearly as tense. If they weren't friendly, there were certainly tolerable. No such thing here, and it's even more obvious whenever his instincts start to rise to the surface.
He leaves (see: flees) the precinct as fast as he can manage and heads off to his crime scene. It takes the whole ride there to calm himself down, to ground himself in logic instead of the raging current of emotion.
Honestly, fuck the full moon.
His mood worsens as he walks up to the McGarrett house. He can smell something off, something new. Not the usual smell of the CSI units or the other officers or the ambient scent of Hawaii -- this is more salty, like ocean concentrate. It puts a nasty taste in his mouth, both because salt water is fucking disgusting and also because that means there's someone trespassing on his crime scene.
He creeps into the house, nose leading him straight to the garage. After a moment's hesitation to draw his gun, he bursts through the door with a loud, "Hands up! Don't move!"
Immediately, the stranger -- a tall, dark-haired man -- looks up from the toolbox he's fiddling with and draws a gun (because of course he has a gun, why would any part of Danny's life ever be easy?) and shouts back, "Who are you?!"
"Who are you?!" Danny fires back, the instinct to shift hot beneath his skin.
The questions devolve into a shouting match in which Danny learns that the sea-water-smelling prick is one Steve McGarrett. He feels ever so slightly bad, since, y'know, this is the crime scene for his dad's murder, but also what sort of marine shows up to an active crime scene instead of the police station to pitch a fit? Now he's got his grubby fingerprints all over everything.
"Listen," Danny says. "I'm sorry for your loss, but this is an active crime scene. You can't be here."
"Doesn't look that active,"
Danny holds back a (very dramatic) sigh. "I'm not at liberty to say what's going on. You just have to leave, preferably without contaminating anything else."
"Can do." McGarrett grabs the toolbox and makes to leave.
"Leave the box."
"I came with this."
He's going to have a fucking stroke.
"No, you did not. I can see the dust void it left. Either you leave it here, or I'm going to arrest you."
"All right." For the briefest of moments, Danny thinks the day is looking up. Then he pulls out his phone, dials a number, and says, "Hello, Governor Jameson, please?"
"You've got the be kidding me." Danny runs a hand through his hair, He's this close to just taking this guy in. Dead dad or not, he's trampling all over police procedure.
He waits, mainly because it seems he actually has Governor Jameson on the phone. McGarrett babbles something about a task force, something about transferring to the reserves, and then is fucking sworn in as an officer of the law.
What the actual fuck.
Two seconds later, McGarrett hangs up, then declares, "It's my crime scene now," before taking the toolbox and leaving.
Danny has to take a long few minutes to himself after that. He is this close, this fucking close, to shifting and ripping something to shreds. It takes every ounce of self-control to walk out calmly and drive home without leaving gouges in his car
--o--
By the time he gets home, Danny's more exhausted than angry. It's just too much work to keep being enraged, especially when he's running on so little sleep. Duke, the warm, kind alpha-but-not-quite that he is, sent him home as soon as he got back to work. His tone his gentle, though not patronizing (something Danny will forever appreciate), and he frames it as sending him home for some rest since he's been working awfully hard since the day he transferred and it'd do him some good to relax.
In reality, it has more to do with the fact that McGarrett's working his case now (something mentioned in passing) and the little lunar phases on the mo'o's calendar (something not mentioned at all, but another thing that earned Danny's eternal respect) but neither of them acknowledge it.
He's only home for an hour or two before he gets a knock at his door. He almost expects it to be Meka when he opens it -- it wouldn't be the first time he's dropped by in the middle of a workday.
It's not. It's McGarrett. Because of course it's fucking McGarrett.
There's no greeting, no opener (who needs common decency when you have the actual literal governor on speed dial?); he just launches right into asking about Fred Doran and then walks right past him into his apartment. Just barely, Danny manages to sigh instead of growl.
"This your daughter?" asks McGarrett as he lifts a photo of his pup with his grubby, ocean-smelling hands (god, he's going to have to use so much febreeze to get that scent out).
"Stunning detective work." Palpable sarcasm.
"You don't actually let her live here, do you?"
Danny has to actively remind himself that a stranger is not worth going to jail for murder. "Why are you here?" he asks, tucking his anger away into neat little boxes to deal with later.
"What do you know about Fred Doran?"
There's more than a little bit of Danny that wants to be a spiteful bitch because god, wouldn't that be immensely satisfying? Shutting steamroller McGarrett down in his tracks? Still, he's a professional. If McGarrett can solve the case, that's all that matters.
"He's a suspected arms dealer," he answers. "Two years Maui Correctional for weapons possession. Currently a person of interest in an unrelated homicide, but the weapon was never found."
"What's that got to do with my father's case?"
"I ran a ballistics comparison to the bullet that killed your dad and got a hit to the one in the Doran investigation. I think the first thing that Hesse did when he got on the island was hook up with Doran and get a gun."
"Then maybe Doran still knows where he is. Let's go." McGarrett says, and then he starts moving like that little exchange somehow made them best buddies or some shit.
"The hell do you mean by 'let's go?' Last I checked, it was your case now." hisses Danny.
"You transferred in six months ago. That means your eyes are fresh." McGarrett glances around, contempt thinly-veiled. "Fold out bed, no wedding ring. Clearly, you moved here for your daughter, which means you've got nothing else but your job between visits. You're dedicated, and that's what I'm looking for."
"Congratulations, you have basic observational skills," hisses Danny. He's getting dangerously close to doing something stupid, especially after hearing McGarrett's entitled ass rub buckets of salt in his wounds. "Still doesn't explain what the hell you mean."
"The governor gave me immunity and means, so I'm making you my partner," McGarrett answers simply. "Now, come on." And he turns and starts to leave.
Danny considers himself a saint for following silently instead of punching him in the jaw.
--o--
They can't have been driving for more than ten minutes before he gets a call from Rachel. Naturally, he ignores it, both because she's been a bitch about visitation hours and also because he's angry enough to say something stupid and get his visits revoked entirely.
McGarrett, being the poster child of shitty social skills, decides to say, "I'm taking it your marriage didn't end too well?"
"...It could've," Danny answers (because he's certain McGarrett won't let it go until he does), "if my ex hadn't remarried and dragged my daughter off to this pineapple-infested hellhole."
"You don't like the beach?"
Huh. Maybe McGarrett has some tact after all. "I don't like the beach."
"Who doesn't like the beach?"
"Me. I like the city. Skyscrapers, no tsunamis, no jellyfish--"
"Tell me you can swim."
Or maybe he just has ADHD. Either way, Danny's thrown off enough by the question that he just stutters, "Can... Can I swim?"
"You can't swim." McGarrett's disgust shows clearly on his face.
"Of course I can swim. I swim for survival, not for fun."
His cell rings again. Rachel. Danny takes the call if only to avoid talking to McGarrett any more. "Yes, dear?"
"...Danno? Are you mad?"
"Oh, hey, monkey!" His tone brightens instantly, and he really can't care less about the look McGarrett gives him. "No, no, I'm sorry, I thought you were your mom."
Talking with his pup brightens his mood significantly, even with McGarrett in earshot. By the time Danny puts his phone down and turns his eyes back to the road, he'd almost call himself content.
"Who's Danno?"
And there it goes.
"Don't," Danny says simply, and he has no intention of explaining further than that.
"Okay," McGarrett says, but the way he murmurs "Danno" under his breath the next minute leaves Danny very suspicious.
The rest of the drive, thankfully, is spent in silence, and they pull up to Doran's place fifteen minutes later. Immediately, McGarrett goes to jump out with the sort of gumption only suicidal or stupid men have.
"Hey, the hell you doing?" Danny grabs his arm. "This guy, Doran? He's a shooter. We need to wait for backup."
"You are the backup," McGarrett replies, and then he leaves, and then Danny realizes he's completely serious.
What sort of suicidal bullshit has he been forcibly been dragged into?
He has to rush to get out (because as much as he hates the guy, he can't just let him die) and catch up. McGarrett's up the stairs to the house in a second, back pressed to the wall beside the door and hand motioning for Danny to take the other side. Within the house, there's muffled arguing and shouting, so he feels safe enough moving.
A few moments later, an angry-looking blond in a bikini storms out, and Danny pulls her against himself and covers her mouth. He goes to murmur something in her ear about being police, but sharp teeth digging into his hand find him letting her go instead.
She rushes to the screen door and shouts for Doran, who then fires through the flimsy walls and puts a bullet right into Danny's shoulder. The force sends Danny back into the rotting railing, which gives under his weight and sends him sprawling onto the roof of Doran's car.
His head is spinning from the impact, but he's coherent enough to hear McGarrett shouting his name.
"Go, go!" He calls back, and McGarrett does.
Then, despite wanting very much to keep laying down, Danny rolls off the car and begins following the two. He's slower, but he's not aiming to keep pace anyways. Just stay close enough to not lose them, and far enough that Doran doesn't realize he has two tails. He shoots a call to HPD in the meantime, tells them as much of the situation he can manage while sprinting with a bullet hole in his shoulder.
The call is over well before he catches up with Doran and McGarrett, which lets him slow his pace and avoid calling attention to himself. Doran has a captive, a woman from the looks of it. He's shouting threats at McGarrett and grinding the muzzle into the poor lady's skull.
Danny takes careful aim, and the second Doran relaxes and shifts the woman's head away from his, he fires. Doran drops like a stone.
For a moment, Danny's relieved, but then he spots McGarrett's wide-eyed look like he can't believe what just happened, like he really didn't think that Doran dying was a possibility.
The walk back to Doran's house is tense and silent, and there's HPD as well as an ambulance waiting for Danny when they arrive. He lets the medics drag him up and tend to his shoulder, if only just to make sure it's a through-and-through. Already, it's healing, which only surprises one of the paramedics. A fresh face, then.
"Werewolf," Danny says simply, and the paramedic's face takes on a look of awe as he bandages the wound.
The other flicks him, irritated. "Don't stare. It's rude."
"It's fine." Danny waves him off. "From what I understand, you don't get very many full shifters around here. It's part of the package."
"Still shouldn't stare." The elder paramedic says. "Anyways, be careful with this shoulder until it heals. Should be fine, considering your metabolism and that it's a through-and-through, but still be careful."
Danny hops off the bus with a nod and sets about fixing his shirt and tie before going to see McGarrett. The man immediately launches into a spiel about the girl he found in Doran's house, which, while very useful information, is really not the thing Danny wants to hear at the moment.
"Y'know," he interjects. "This is typically the part where you thank me for saving your life."
"You just shot my only lead!"
Danny's almost in shock from his disbelief. Almost. "Are you kidding me? Are you actually kidding me?"
McGarrett doesn't seem to hear him, too busy mumbling about the case, so Danny raises his voice.
"You just took a stupid risk!" He growls (and if there's some actual growl behind that, he doesn't care). "Okay?! Understand that! I am not getting myself killed for your vendetta! I have a daughter, okay?!"
"Yeah, and that girl in there is someone's daughter, too."
"You don't get it. You really don't get it. You know, for someone who just lost his father, you're pretty dense."
Whoops. Stepped right over the line. Oh well.
McGarrett finally breaks, and his face turns red as he yells, "What'd you just say to me?! What'd you just say to me?! What if she was yours, huh? Would you not do everything in your power to hunt that son of a bitch down and kill him?"
"Don't you dare question my resolve to my daughter." Danny's certain he's growling now, as he pokes his finger into McGarrett's face.
"Take your finger out of my face."
Danny sticks his finger on his chest. "Listen to me you son of a bitch--"
And then suddenly his arm is twisted painfully behind his back and he can't the grunt that escapes his lips.
"I warned you," McGarrett sneers. "Now look what you made me do in front of all these nice people."
The sheer amount of conscious effort Danny has to put into not shifting is astounding. The other officers are looking at him, doubtless curious if they'll get an excuse to tase him. He can feel his fangs poking out of his mouth, can feel how his eyes sit awkwardly in his skull. He's certain there's a tinge of color in his skin that's not quite natural, but that's the most of it.
"Now you don't have to like me, but we do have to get this job done."
"Fine, whatever, let me up." Danny hisses.
McGarrett does, and then immediately goes back into the case like this is just somehow over.
Danny is sorely tempted to claw his face, but he settles for a mean sucker punch instead, complete with all the extra strength that comes with a werewolf. "You're right," he says, stalking back to his car. "I don't like you."
--o--
The drive back to the precinct is blessedly silent for a whole five minute before McGarrett opens his stupid mouth.
"How's the arm?"
"Let's just not talk." Danny answers. He's focusing very hard on driving because the fur and claws and fangs are sitting dangerously close beneath his skin, and drive a car a wolf cannot.
"Right now or ever again?"
"Just... both, okay? Both."
"Y'know, I think I know why your wife left you."
God. Fucking. Dammit.
"Really?"
"Yeah, you're really sensitive."
"Sensitive," Danny chuckles, because it's about the only emotional vent he has that doesn't involve serious bodily harm. "You think I'm sensitive. When did you come to the conclusion I was sensitive, huh? Was it when a bullet was tearing through my flesh? Is that when I seemed sensitive to you?"
McGarrett at least has the decency to look slightly guilty for that.
"I am really happy you're not afraid of anything, okay? I'm so glad that you're so emotionally numb from chasing terrorists around the world that a gunshot would is nothing more than a stubbed toe to you. But in civilized society, we have rules, It's what separates from animals. And rule number one is when you get someone shot, you fucking apologize!"
"I'm sorry," says McGarrett without a hint of remorse.
Danny bites his tongue. "Sure."
And McGarrett finally manages to keep his god damn mouth shut.
--o--
McGarrett ends up diverting from the precinct to meet up with one Chin Ho Kelly, who apparently has more information for them. Danny pretends not to recognize the only other member of HPD just as ostracized as he is.
Kelly turns out to know a guy who can lead them where they need to go, but he refuses to actually, y'know, tell them. Claims something about his ruined reputation, then makes to leave.
McGarrett decides to show off more of his social skills and asks, "Did you take the money?"
"Excuse me?" His tone is deadly calm.
"Did you," McGarrett asks again as he turns. "take the money?"
"No." Kelly spits the word from his mouth.
"Then come with us, and we don't need to talk about this again."
And that's how they get their name: Sang Min. In between, there's a shaved ice truck, a man named Kamekona, and two ridiculous shirts with said man's face on them, but Danny refuses to even acknowledge that it happened. (Except for the sweet little mū girl he gave Grace's bunny. Her tiny fangs had reminded him of when Gracie's little nubs when her teeth first started coming and he couldn't not treat her.)
According to Kelly, Sang Min is a qilin human trafficker, someone who could definitely get Hesse onto the island. They've got no leverage, though, so he has no reason to talk.
"Then we make leverage," McGarrett says, which is the first intelligent thing Danny's heard him say since he's had the displeasure of working with him. "Bait-and-switch."
"Wire up an undercover and get some dirt," Danny finishes, but Kelly tuts at him.
"Won't work. Everyone knows the cops on the island. We need a fresh face," he says, but, surprisingly, doesn't chide. It's the first time Danny's been treated with an ounce of respect from anyone he's worked with professionally, and he can't help a little smile.
McGarrett doesn't seem to catch it, but Chin smiles back knowingly. "Don't worry, though," he continues. "I've got the perfect guy."
Danny thinks he's going to like him.
--o--
Chin brings them to the beach for his cousin, Kono Kalakaua. She's surfing, but Danny can still see the gills running down her neck and the web between her fingers. Probably mū, considering Chin is one.
She's a week from graduating from the police academy, which means that she's definitely unknown, but it also means she has no real experience. Danny's mildly concerned until she crashes into a guy, then decks him for stealing her wave. Then, he's just impressed.
She brightens as soon as she sees Chin and gives a cheerful, "Cousin!" She flashes pearly white fangs in the process, too -- definitely a mū.
They've barely said their introductions before McGarrett launches into his offer of undercover work. Kalakaua gives an almost immediate yes, so giddy Danny can't help but think of Gracie. She practically drags Chin to the parking lot, and then they're off, Chin to set up the meet and Kalakaua to shower and change.
In the meantime, McGarrett insists on going back to his place to check out more evidence while they wait for Chin. Danny only drops him off before speeding back to his apartment, though -- he's entirely too fed up with him to stay and listen to any sort of bullshit he might spout. If he needs something, he'll call.
He gets home exhausted, physically and mentally. The coffee wore off several hours earlier and dealing with McGarrett sapped away most of any facade he might've put up. He knows he's not going to be able to sleep it off, of course -- as if the universe would stop shitting on him long enough to let him get some break from this nonsense any time soon.
He settles for a bottle of water, then cleaning his pigsty of an apartment (one of the few things he'll concede to McGarrett on) before finally shifting to settle onto his bed. It's as easy as breathing; the fur, thick and golden (and clipped because this is fucking Hawaii and he doesn't have a death wish), grows in within seconds as his anatomy shifts even faster. He doesn't even really register it as he hops up onto his bed. It creaks under his new weight; he's much, much larger as a wolf, and much heavier in turn.
Even though he knows he won't be able to sleep, he curls up, closes his eyes, and simply relaxes. It's not quite sleeping, but it's close enough to a mindless haze that he only snaps out of it when his ringtone reaches his ears.
Begrudgingly, he shifts back and scrambles to answer. It turns out only to be McGarrett letting him know the time and place of Kalakaua's meet tomorrow morning with Sang Min, and where he should be to run surveillance. He writes it down, then hangs up before McGarrett gets a chance to say something stupid.
He also takes the chance to check the time: 7:52 pm.
He sighs. It's going to be a long night.
--o--
He manages a whole three hours of sleep that night, which makes him hopeful this bout of insomnia might be coming to a close. Of course, he still showers in ice water and downs two cups of coffee before he leaves(because his massive sleep debt isn't going to be cured on three hours of sleep).
Despite being more awake, he's still the last to arrive at the truck where they'll be watching the meet. McGarrett is blessedly silent while they set up, and Chin even gives him a friendly "Howzit?"
Kalakaua goes in, and it starts fairly well. Sang Min seems to buy it.
And then he finds sand in her hair.
"Alright, pull the plug," Danny says immediately. He's seen too many undercover cases go horribly wrong to let that happen to such a young recruit, not even out of the academy yet.
"Relax, she can handle herself." Chin answers.
"If he smells trap, he's gonna kill her, okay?" Danny repeats, more urgent now.
Chin turns to face him and gives a reassuring look. "Trust me."
Danny hesitates but then gives a reluctant nod. He can't stand watching her strip for Sang Min, but he knows it's necessary. Though the qilin fails to find a wire, he does snap a photo of Kalakaua to check even further.
Chin's tracing the phone number before McGarrett even gives the order. "Call traces back to HPD," he hisses. "We've got a mole. We gotta pull her."
He and Danny are out before McGarrett can give any kind of orders, heading for Danny's car for tac vests. By the time they get back, however, the truck is inside the warehouse via a brand new hole in the wall. Because of course it is.
Pushing his shock aside, he moves to handcuff all the perps knocked down by the truck. In the meantime, he hears McGarrett going to cuff Sang Min, and then a shout of "Gun!"
Immediately, he ducks for cover, then turns to see the gunman who'd shot at McGarrett dropping to the ground. Behind him, Sang Min is pulling something out of his desk, and he only has just enough time to shout, "Get down!"
Thankfully, Sang Min is mainly interested in getting away, and only uses repressive fire. No one gets hit, and McGarrett races off to give chase. Danny stays, though, and handcuffs each and every one of the perps with the help of Chin and Kalakaua. Once that's done, he calls HPD, then rushes after McGarrett.
He gets out in time to find Sang Min's car crashed into a shipping container and McGarrett holding him at gunpoint. He's not so much concerned with that, though, as he is with the muffled noise and scent of people coming from the container to his right.
He opens the door to a group of smuggled people, some human, some shifted. There are a few qilins, a dragon or two, and various others he's not quite certain of the name of. He can't understand any of them -- they're too distressed to be communicating anything more than 'confusedterrifiedstressed' -- but he offers a kind smile.
The police cars and ambulances arrive not long afterward, thankfully, as well as an actual transport bus. Chin and McGarrett quietly take Sang Min off somewhere, but Danny chooses not to follow, due in no small part to plausible deniability. Instead, he stays, not shifting, but giving reassurances to the fully shifted ones in a way only they'll understand. He manages to coax enough of them out into human form that they take care of the rest, which happens just in time for McGarrett to return.
"I've got a ship," he says, and that's all the explanation Danny gets before the SEAL drags him into a cruiser and takes off for the port.
The moment he's off the main roads, he drives like a maniac. He takes such hard turns, Danny's fairly sure this is going to be the day he dies. As if to make things worse, Rachel decides to call to yell at him for not picking up Grace. He manages to end the shouting match fast enough to watch in terror as McGarrett drives up onto the ship.
Immediately, they're shot at, and McGarrett runs off to chance after Hesse. Danny curses him, but moves on to take care of the guards. He downs one as he moves to cover, then takes his gun to fire at the others. Just barely, he manages to not get shot as he downs one, then the other.
The one up top, the first, takes the bullet to the chest and lands in the water with a splash. Danny doesn't bother going after him. Instead, he moves to handcuff the one writhing on the ground in pain.
He hears McGarrett approach from above and glances up. The SEAL is preening, clearly proud of himself. "You get him?"
McGarrett gives a triumphant nod. His posture is open like he expects Danny to be celebrating with him.
God, he's like a child with how socially unaware he is.
"Then get the coast guard to comb the water for his body," Danny replies. He's probably a little more curt than he needs to be, but he also really need McGarrett to get it through his thick skull that they're not friends before he does something else stupid. "I'll take this one to the precinct.
McGarrett hesitates, visibly deflating, before he simply nods and leaves. Danny doesn't feel bad. Whatever gets the point across.
--o--
After leaving the man with HPD, McGarrett drags him to Iolani Palace, where there are various boxes and papers and new-looking furniture.
Offices. He's setting up offices. And he expects Danny to begin working in one of those offices as an employee.
Danny barely holds back a sigh. Seems the adrenaline made him forget how batshit insane and obtuse McGarrett is.
"Hey, can I have my keys?" he asks, hand out.
McGarrett tosses them to him, and he catches them easily. "You trying to stake out parking already?"
"Absolutely not. I'm leaving," he says, turning away. He might hate the atmosphere at HPD, but at least he isn't being forced to work there by an uppity military asshat.
"Where are you going?" McGarrett sounds genuinely confused, as if it's surprising Danny wants nothing to do with him.
"HPD. You got Hesse; you don't need me anymore. Therefore, I'm going back to my job."
"This is your job, You've been transferred."
"The hell do you mean I've been transferred?!" At this point, Chin and Kalakaua take interest, probably because his voice is raised, but Danny doesn't really care; all of his effort is going towards keeping his teeth dull and the fur beneath his skin.
"I mean I had you officially transferred to the task force," McGarrett answers, then glances to the two other pairs of eyes. "Considering your chief didn't try very hard to keep you and you've been working here all day, I figure it was--"
He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Danny clocks him for a second time. Honestly, the werewolf doesn't even register that he's doing it, but damn is the sound refreshing. It's nothing compared to the idea of using the claws that are digging into his palms, but it's cathartic enough to push down the animal rising in him.
"Fuck you," Danny hisses before storming out. Either McGarrett is too stunned to stop him, or he finally got it through his thick skull to leave him the hell alone, because Danny's able to get all the way to his car and drive off without interruption.
On some level, he knows he's being irrational and probably just lost his job, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment. He's enraged and struggling to maintain his humanity; he can't bring himself to worry about much beyond that.
He doesn't drive home, since McGarrett most definitely would try and seek him out. Hopefully, he won't realize that there's GPS on his car until after he's already at his apartment, which should give him time enough. Instead, he takes a long, winding way to a convenience store. He spends the time calming himself down, taking deep breaths until his teeth feel normal in his jaws again.
With one last deep breath, he calls Rachel.
"I'm sorry," he says before she can get a word out. "I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier. I just..." he runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh, "...you know how it gets around the full moon. It's not an excuse for snapping, but with what was happening at the time --"
"I'm not taking Grace from you tonight."
Danny relaxes immensely. "Thank you."
"She needs the interaction, and neither Stan nor I can handle her during a full moon like you can."
There's the backhanded compliment he was expecting. Danny ignores it, simply happy that he'd get to spend an entire night with his pup. "Can I pick her up early? Please?"
"You didn't seem fast to pick her up earlier--"
"Please, Rachel. When that happened -- it was out of my hands. I just... I need this. Please."
Either something in his voice sounds pathetic enough to move her, or she's just tired of arguing, because she just says, "Okay."
Danny sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Thank you."
"Go ahead and come by in an hour," she says, and then the phone call is over.
--o--
He spends the hour driving home (McGarrett isn't there, thank god), changing into some more comfortable clothes, then driving back to Rachel's. Grace all but barrels into his car, a bundle of energy and giggles that lifts his mood drastically. She has her go-bag in hand, complete with toys and a spare change of clothes, though, per usual, only the clothes will get any use. He cranks the music, Bon Jovi this time, as they drive to the island's shifter nature preserve.
It's nearly nightfall by the time he gets through the long, scenic route, and Grace is getting antsy. She can't get out of the car fast enough, and her energy warms his heart.
"Someone's excited," he chuckles as he follows her to the gates.
"Evening, Mr. Williams." The guard, one Harold Remmings, nods at him. He gives Grace a soft smile. "And hello to you as well, Miss Williams."
Grace giggles at his thick, posh accent, more than entertained with the foreign pronunciation. "Hi, Mr. Remmings!"
"You know you can call me Danny. I think we're on good enough terms for that." Danny gives him an easy grin in turn, digging out his ID, then offering his arm.
"And you know I much prefer to be formal." Remmings takes a marker from his belt and runs it over his skin. The magic in the ink tingles as it fades into the flesh, working down to make sure he's actually Danny Williams, Jersey-born werewolf detective. "Even to Miss Williams over there."
Grace squeals with delight again as Remmings bends down to mark her arm as well. "Thank you, Mr. Remmings!" she says as it fades.
"Have a good night, Mr. Williams." Remmings opens the gate with a smile.
Grace races inside, bubbling with energy. Danny smiles as he follows, knowing full well she'll be out like a light in only a couple hours.
He waits until they're out of eyeshot of the gates before he shifts. It flows like water over his skin, shifting easily and seamlessly from human to massive wolf. It feels right, being in this form. Natural, like he was born for it. Technically, he was, but it's always strongest on full moons, especially on full moons with no pack to calm him.
Grace pauses in her giggling once he catches her eye, and her face falls. She rushes forward before he can, exclaiming, "Danno, what happened?"
Danny's confused for a long moment, until he realizes she's staring at the mostly-healed bullet wound in his shoulder. The wound itself is closed, but the skin hasn't regained enough function to regrow hair yet.
He nuzzles Grace's face with his snout. 'It's nothing, monkey. Just a cut that needs a little more time to regrow hair.'
She relaxes at this and gives him a good a hug as she can manage with their size difference. "I'm glad you're okay."
'I'm glad I'm okay, too,' replies Danny. 'Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this anymore.'
With that, he gently knocks Grace over and mercilessly tickles her with his nose. She squeals, struggling to roll back over, but he doesn't let her until he's had his fill. By then, she's breathless but delighted all the same. She wriggles upright with a clear intent to continue playing, but pauses suddenly.
Immediately, Danny's on alert, though he knows that it's only the transformation setting in. He moves closer to Grace as she itches at her skin, offering a warm, comforting, presence. He can't do much more than that, as much as he'd like to. Until she learned to control it, it would always be somewhat uncomfortable. At least she'd gotten to where it only took a few minutes.
For this specific time, it only took about three before there was a brown-gold wolf pup curled into his side instead of a little girl. Carefully, he shifts, lowering himself onto his belly and bringing Grace close to his chest. From here, it's only a few minutes more before she'll stop feeling disoriented.
Two minutes later, she wriggles out of his forelegs, bubbly and full of energy. 'Danno! Danno! Let's play!' she exclaims, tail wagging back and forth like a motor.
Danny chuffs, more than a little amused as he rises. Grace dashes off when he does, a bolt of fur and energy. He lets her get a short ways ahead before he goes after her at a decent trot. He wants to sprint quite badly, to run until his legs give out, but he figures Grace wouldn't appreciate being left behind.
At the same time, he can't exactly not move a little faster than is fair given how little Grace is. He's been itching to shift all day and his chest aches with a want to use the new muscles. It's been entirely too long since he's been able to just run, and run with a pack. All he has at the moment is Grace, which, while he loves her to death, is nothing like having her and his siblings and his parents.
He slows some, just to let her get a little further ahead. He'll sprint for a bit, just to burn off some of that energy, then pounce to turn it into a bout of wrestling. His tail flicks back and forth, and he's certain if his face would allow it, he'd be smiling.
He gives it a few more moments before he starts running, and he catches her not long after. As he pounces on her, ever mindful not to hurt her, he's fairly sure she stopped trying at some point, but he doesn't care. He buries his nose into her belly, tickling her, and she lets out delighted little chirps. Just a little, he loosens his hold so she feels like she's accomplishing something when she wriggles away.
She doesn't run this time, just turns to face him and drops onto her forepaws with her tail going a mile a minute (honestly, it's not that much faster than his own). Danny chuffs, then suddenly surges forward to pin her again. Narrowly, she avoids it and takes his miss as a chance to scramble onto his back.
As well as he can, Danny turns back to face her, which earns him a gentle swat on the face. He recoils, then shakes. It's just enough to throw her off balance and send her sliding to the ground. He shifts, ready to pounce again, but this time she takes her chance to sprint off into the woods again.
Once again, Danny rises, but he waits this time, waits until Gracie's scent is fading just a hair, and then he takes off. The wind feels amazing in his fur, and the ground feels amazing beneath his paws, and everything is just good. For the moment, there's no Rachel, no McGarrett, no stress. It's just him, and the trees, and his pup. And life is good.
And it goes like that for a time, chasing and wrestling and chasing again. He never remembers how long exactly -- he stops paying attention fairly quickly -- but judging by the moon, it's nearing midnight when Grace starts to tire.
She's sluggish while they're wrestling, and eventually gives it up in favor of snuggling into his side.
'I love you, Danno,' she yawns, and god she's absolutely adorable. So small and cute, and now she's sleepy and Danny's pretty sure his heart is going to burst.
'Danno loves you, too, Monkey,' he replies. He gives her head an affectionate lick and touches her nose with his.
He lets her be after that, and she falls asleep within minutes. Danny doesn't, of course, partly because he's a responsible adult and partly because insomnia and party because the forest is nice this time of night.
The moon streams in from the canopy, little streaks of light tumbling through the trees to the forest floor where it can. There's the soft skitter of nocturnal animals about, or sleepy diurnal ones trying to find a safer place with two wolves tumbling around. A weak breeze rustles the leaves overhead. It's calm, most importantly. Calm and quiet. Relaxing. It smells of grass and dirt and... salt...?
Danny tries not to stiffen as the familiar scent grows nearer, but it's a close thing. After clocking the man twice in the face, he figured he'd gotten the message across that he really didn't want to be messed with, Really, with how fucking obtuse McGarrett is, he should've known better.
McGarrett comes up from the side Gracie is not, and Danny levels him with the stiffest glare he can manage. If it were just him, he'd happily be growling, but Grace is asleep against his side and doesn't need to wake up afraid.
"Relax, Danny," McGarrett says, throwing his hands up. "I'm not here to fight you. I came to apologize."
Or he could say that and completely destroy all of Danny's expectations.
The werewolf lets up on his glare and relaxes, though that's definitely only because Grace is squirming weakly at his side and tense muscles don't make for the best bed.
McGarrett takes a deep breath. "I was completely wrong to keep pushing you like that. I came to you for Doran, and then I saw in your file that you were a werewolf and I thought that'd be really useful to the task force. There were... a lot of things that I got wrong about it. Chin was kind enough to... correct me after you left."
Danny snorts internally. More like chewed him out and probably threatened to quit. He owes Chin something now, for sure.
"I still think you'd be a great addition to this team, for what it's worth. You've got the experience to keep the people we catch behind bars," continues McGarrett. "That, and you've got a damn mean right hook."
Danny chirps a soft laugh, and something resembling a smile tugs at his lips. An apology, and a joke. Basically a verbally offered hand.
He nods, completely relaxing, and Steve does, too. He steps closer, close enough that he can see the bundle of fur snuggled into his side, hesitates, then steps back again. "Be in at no later than 9 tomorrow," he says, but there's a playful lilt to his tone he hasn't had all day. "You need the sleep as much as she does, but we still have work to do."
Danny chirps another laugh, and then Steve leaves.
The werewolf stays for a while longer, turning over the idea of working with such a bull-headed man for a boss. Well, not quite bull-headed. Humble enough to apologize, even if he had to get yelled at first. Something is better than nothing.
He sighs, and shifts back. Best to get home now. After all, he does have work tomorrow.