Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If anyone were to ask, Danny would have to blame it on Grace. It's a novum of sorts, since she is the one person in his life he'd consider to be without fault. This, however, is definitely her doing.

Well, maybe some of the blame goes to Chin, too. But getting shot in the leg and being wheeled out of what used to be an opulent library, now littered with splintered shelves, and books and perps with broken spines, is not something people do on purpose. So, Danny feels inclined to give him a pass. 

Grace, though, she basically manipulated him, is what she did, and that's what led to the whole fiasco. She and her love of stupid love songs. Not that Danny doesn't like a good love song, he isn't some kind of macho out of touch with his emotions. In that regard, however, Grace takes after Rachel. Accordingly, Danny was just pointing out the ungodly amount of auto-tune in the song she put on using his phone while he delivered her to Step-Stan's house for a couple of days, when she, innocent as can be, said, "Maybe, but doesn't it remind you of Uncle Steve?"

Suddenly Danny was forced to come to terms with the idea that his beautiful daughter seemed to think love songs, especially extremely cheesy ones, made him think of Steve. The implications didn't even begin to fully sink in, lyrics about hearts wanting what they want and breathless moments in the background, when Grace clarified, "I mean, he really loved Catherine, but it just didn't work out. You know, like in the song. No happy ending."

Danny wanted to let out a breath of relief, wanted to just relish the fact that it had all been a humongous misunderstanding on his part, but the damage was done. For the rest of the thrice-damned song, all he could think about was Steve and his sad face and his rigid shoulders, and something deep inside hurt.

The odd mood carried across into his workday, darkening the atmosphere between his partner and him like a thunder cloud not even their bickering could disperse. Every so often, Danny would notice one of Steve's gazes that looked at nothing and be troubled by it.

It was ridiculous. It wasn't even all that recent that Catherine decided to leave once more; it has been well over six months at this point. And yet, somehow Steve seems more raw now than directly after. 

Still, Danny will swear to anyone needing to hear it that this is not the reason their most recent shoot-out with a group of idiot drug dealers ended with Chin catching a ride to the hospital, a worried Kono in tow. Neither he nor Steve have lost their touch, but the gunfire was vicious and the maze-like structure of the palatial building where the deal went down made it impossible to predict where the bullets would hit.

Steve and him are leaning against a bookshelf in the back of the room. The front is bustling with activity as paramedics hurry in and out together with half of the forensics department of the HPD. They're partly hidden from view by another shelf placed between them and the door. To their feet is a splatter of blood. The guy whose bloodstream it originated from has left the building on a stretcher. He wasn't one of Five-Os casualties, though. That guy has been dead long before they even entered the scene, something which gives Danny a headache because he can already tell they'll have to work out why.

Steve stares at the blood with such a forlorn expression Danny thinks it might turn into a map any minute now, in order to offer him some kind of orientation. He opens his mouth to tell him so, reaching out simultaneously to pull at his sleeve, only when Steve turns that expression on him his words get stuck. They're standing close to each other, because of course they do, and Danny has pulled Steve even closer. His eyes look very hurt, and Danny just can't take it.

It's so easy to push up on his toes just a little, bringing his lips close to those of his partner, unsure. But somehow Steve's moving, too, and that's how they connect. It happens once, almost like a mistake, like a slip-up, like missing a step on the stairs. Then again, more certain, and again, and suddenly Danny is kissing Steve, kissing him as if he's trying to convey thoughts he can't formulate, like the need to be there, to be let in. Steve's taking it wordlessly, focused and demanding. 

Danny's breath comes in short bursts as if he's just finished a sprint. He barely gets enough time to fully realize what's going on before they break apart, staring at each other like deer caught in the headlights.

"Commander McGarret, you might want to see this," comes Max's voice from the other side of the bookshelf and the moment shatters. Steve pushes past him as if the devil were on his heels. Danny stumbles against the shelf, feeling like an utter idiot, trying to figure out how to explain away this temporary insanity. It doesn't help at all that Grace's song is still stuck in his head.

Thing is, now isn't exactly a good time. Because what Max found has the potential to keep them busy for a while.

"I'm inclined to say that, while the location doesn't lack a certain representative air, it is wholly unsuitable for producing chemical forgeries," Max is saying when Danny steps out of his cover.

"Chemical forgeries?" he asks, frowning, because that's a better facial expression than blushing. 

"Why, yes, Detective Williams, that's what I said."

"If they were bringing fake money to a drug deal, why not print it? It's usually what they do, don't they? To get mediocre counterfeits like that one." He indicates one of the bills, which don't look remotely convincing even to the untrained eye.

"You're correct in your assessment regarding the quality of the duplicates, but I'm afraid the method of production was different in this case," Max says and lifts a piece of a shiny material up for their inspection. Danny and Steve lean in at the same time, and it takes all of Danny's mental fortitude not to flinch at the sudden closeness.

"Aluminum foil," Steve says. Danny inspects the piece closer. It looks like there's a powdery substance on it, too.

"It's not what you probably think," Max says, and the wording makes something in Danny want to curl up into a ball.

"What is it, then?" Steve asks, impatient. 

"Baby powder," Max says, and Danny raises an eyebrow. "Gentlemen, have you ever heard of wash wash?"

"If you mean a rigorous personal hygiene program, then yes, I have," Danny drawls. "Him on the other hand? I'm not so sure."

Steve doesn't even twitch.

"Wash wash," Max continues, "is a very special form of money laundering."

Steve frowns. "Tax evasion?"

"No. It's a con." Max then proceeds to tell them the most harebrained scheme Danny has heard of in years.

"You mean to say," he sums up, "that people believe you can get money out of blackened pieces of paper by wrapping them in aluminum foil with real bills? And they'll leave huge amounts of money alone in a room with shady people who promise to help with that, so those shady people can steal their real money?"

"Well, disregarding the part where I explained the use of chemical agents to help the decolorization and duplication process, that's indeed about it," Max confirms.

Danny is just gearing up for a spectacular rant about people's stupidity in general and these idiots in particular, when Steve cuts him short. "You don't know all the reasons why people fall for frauds, Danny. Sometimes, you're just not thinking straight." He clears his throat and Danny is forced to look the other way. "Anyway, this didn't happen here. So was this drug deal where they wanted to use their duplicated money? Did the deal go south and they shot the people who got conned?"

Danny hums. "Well, we've got two John Does who didn't get the chance to shoot at us, so I'd say that's likely."

Max shakes his head. "I'm afraid that's not the case. The two victims who've been dead for approximately eleven hours according to my preliminary examination, show substantial traces of chemicals on their hands. I'm inclined to say they're the ones who conducted the washing process."

"Huh." Danny scratches across his stubble. It's been a rough couple of days and he really needs to shave. Steve, too, if the slight burn on his chin is anything to go by. He desperately tries to change that line of thought.

"We should figure out where the washing process took place," Steve says, pulling out his phone. "So we can identify who else might've been involved."

The way back to the palace passes at breakneck speed, as though there were lives at stake which Danny is reasonably sure isn't the case.

"Woah, slow down!" he shouts, exerting a death-grip on the handlebar. "At this rate, Jerry hasn't even gotten around to logging into his VPN for safe internet access!"

"Since when do you know stuff about computers and networks?" Steve asks, shifting gears and never taking his eyes off the road. 

"Since Eric kept babbling about it last week when he couldn't sleep after drinking too many energy drinks. Hey, stop that! Do you have a personal vendetta against my car? Because that's how you'd get rid of one, by crashing it into a lamp post!"

Steve ignores him. He skids around the next corner, earning them enraged honking from the car behind. 

"At least put the lights on," Danny groans, fingernails biting into his palm. 

Steve doesn't, and Danny feels quite shaken when they reach the parking lot. It's oddly empty without Kono's Chevy. His legs refuse to cooperate immediately, so Danny has to take a moment before exiting the car. By the time he pushes out of the seat and steps onto the pavement, Steve's already rounded the hood and stands in front of the passenger door, looming. Danny looks up to meet his eyes. They're once again much closer than expected. 

It comes less as a surprise this time when Steve moves in and kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, innocent enough if it weren't for the force behind it. Steve's kiss is an accusation, and Danny's never been good at holding back when faced with one of those. He opens his mouth to protest, only that's a bad idea because there goes the innocence. Steve lingers just a tad before he pulls back, staring at him with an unfathomable expression. Danny swallows, trying to think of something to say, but Steve's already storming off. Danny gives chase, not wanting to fall behind. They part in the corridor, each disappearing into their respective offices where Danny tries desperately to sort out his jumbled mind.

Turns out that Jerry once again came through for them. Danny supposes if he keeps it up, Steve might feel charitable enough to give him the official badge by the end of the month.

"I managed to track down recent withdrawals of larger sums in cash by going through some bank records. Don't ask. Anyway, here's a list of medium-sized companies who might have something to do with it, all located in Kahala," he says, calling up a map as they gather around the tech-table.

Danny is hyper-conscious of Steve standing right next to him. He's considered putting Grover between them as a buffer, but a stubborn part of him refuses to change his ways just because Steve got his panties in a twist. Besides, the last thing he needs is for people to notice something's going on. It's embarrassing enough to feel like a teenage girl in the same room with her crush, but he'll be damned if he lets it show. Still, Steve's got the tension of a live wire and his fingers are rather close to Danny's where they're drumming against the table. It's distracting enough for him to barely register when Jerry pulls up the bank records.

"They withdrew six-figure amounts. Must be about all of their savings," Lou states, frowning.

Danny scoffs. "Are you telling me that we're looking at four potential fraud victims? Four people who fell for wash wash?"

He looks up, catching Steve's gaze on him. Whatever else he might want to add never makes it out of his mouth. He clears his throat.

"Seems possible. Wash wash as a scheme is much more successful than you'd like to believe," Jerry says, snapping him back to attention. 

"What's the link?" Steve asks. "From what Max says, there's usually some sort of acquaintance between the vics and the scammers."

"What do a beauty parlor, a dry cleaner's , a riding equipment shop and a sheet music store have in common?" Lou muses.

"Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke." Danny shifts his weight to the other foot. 

"Well, why don't we find out? I'll take the last two, why don't you two hit the beauty parlor and the dry cleaner's ?"

Danny snorts. "What, and get our nails done?"

"Who knows, maybe a face mask would help. You both look tense today," Lou teases and Danny almost jumps out of his skin. 

"Let's get going," Steve cuts in, already halfway out of the door.

"Touchy, too," Lou calls behind them, but Danny refuses to turn around. 

They start with the dry cleaner's , because it's closer to HQ. Upon entering, Danny almost buckles over, hit by a pungent smell.

"What kind of detergent do they use?" he hisses at Steve as they move into the front room. It's unmanned at the moment.

Steve shrugs and rings a bell on the counter, fingers tapping an impatient pattern against the wood. 

It's a nice store, Danny thinks, far from the usual white lined interior design dominated by rails and plastic covers. It's kept in a light yellow, and rich wooden accents paired with quaint paintings of edible arrangements lend it an almost noble appearance. There's a low seating arrangement by the window and two large vases filled with opulent bouquets in full bloom framing both ends of the counter.

The clerk, however, proves rather unhelpful, referring them to the owner, who is out of town. "He said he'll be back in the course of the day, so maybe you can try again in the afternoon?"

Outside, Danny takes a deep breath of fresh air. Steve brushes past him, moving towards the driver's side of the Camaro. "Come on, we've got work to do," he says.

Danny slips into the passenger seat and buckles up. "You really are tense, you know? Maybe you should get that face mask, after all."

Steve remains silent, starting the engine. 

Danny sighs. "Chin's alright, okay? I'm sure he'll be back on his feet in no time."

Steve grumbles something under his breath, eyes on the road. He's still speeding and his hands are tense around the wheel. 

"Hey, hey, Steve. Ease up, will you, please? It's not gonna change now, is it? Even if it turns out there's more to this case, what's done is done."

"I know that, Danny," Steve snaps.

"Then why are you so angry?"

Steve pulls the car to an abrupt halt by the side of the road. "Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's got something to do with my partner just kissing me out of the blue next to a crime scene?"

Danny might have occasionally claimed to be a patient kind of guy, but possibly that's been a lie, because he reaches the end of his line with lightning speed.

"Well, excuse me very much! I didn't know you were that bothered by dead bodies. For all I know you might've spent a camping trip with one strapped to your back without batting an eye!"

"Have you ever stopped to consider that I just didn't want to be kissed by you like that?!" Steve returns, unbuckling so he can face Danny fully. The words sting more than Danny thought they would.

"You have a weird way of delivering that message then," he bites back. "If you didn't want to kiss me, maybe you shouldn't have done it when we got back to the palace."

"Damn it, Danny," Steve curses, and then he's right in front of him again.

Chapter Text

If Steve’s second kiss was angry, this one is furious.

It's fine though, because Danny feels very much the same way, and so they're quite evenly matched when it comes to the give and take of this. Despite how much this makes him feel fresh-faced and stupid, Danny appreciates how neither of them actually is all that young anymore. Because along with the lines on their faces, their experiences have clearly deepened, too. Steve's a fantastic kisser, good enough to make Danny sink into the car seat bonelessly.

It goes on for longer than any of their previous entanglements, long enough for the aggression to abate and gentleness to take its place, Steve's hand coming up to cradle Danny's neck and Danny's finding its way into Steve's short hair. Their breath still comes labored, but it's a different kind of emotion keeping it short.

Steve draws back just enough to speak against his lips. "I didn't even know you wanted to do this."

Danny kisses him again, hardly stopping to mumble, "trust me, I'm as surprised as you are. I didn't think you'd want to, either."

"I didn't. I don't, I-" Steve pulls back. "Look, I know you want to make me feel better, alright? I know you think I'm hurting over Catherine, and that's true. But that doesn't mean I want to get into something quick and easy with you of all people."

"Easy?" Danny explodes. "Which part of me is fucking easy?!"

Steve sits back in the driver's seat and gives him a look. Danny feels himself blush, as if this whole affair weren't bad enough as is.

"Listen. You're right, I want to make you feel better about, about everything, okay? But that doesn't mean I want to be anything quick or convenient or whatever you think this is," he says, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples. 

"What do you want, then?" Steve asks quietly.

"I don't know," Danny admits, voice breaking. "I didn't even know I wanted anything at all until this morning."

"Yeah." Steve lets out a long breath. "I- Me neither."

There's a beat of silence before Steve's phone rings. He picks up immediately when Lou's name appears on the screen and puts him on speaker. 

Lou isn't too optimistic about the investigation. The riding equipment shop owner didn't notice irregularities regarding his bank account and seemed positively shocked by the missing sum. The music shop owner was busy renovating part of the store and claimed the money went into that project. "Any success at your front?"

"Nothing so far. Owner of the dry cleaner's isn't in town. We're just on our way to the beauty parlor."

"It's not even certain these are the people involved," Lou says over the phone. 

"No, but we’ve got to start somewhere," Danny argues. "The drug traffickers only just arrived when we did. They couldn't have killed the forgers. Someone else must've intercepted the deal, and we need to know who."

Steve restarts the car and swerves back into the lane. "We'll call once we finish at the second stop." He hangs up with a quick goodbye and drives on wordlessly.

Only when they pull up in the parking lot in front of the building complex which houses the beauty parlor does Steve speak again. "I think we should stop for now. With the, you know. The kissing."

"Why are you telling me this as if it's me who's been doing it all the time without you reciprocating?"

"I said we, not you," Steve points out, annoyed. 

"And I still think you've got no room to talk."

"For heaven's sake, Danny, we don't even know what this is about. I'm just saying, before we figure out where we stand it's just stupid to be doing something we might regret later on."

Danny pushes a hand through his hair. He feels as insecure about himself as he hasn't in ages and he knows Steve's right. He does, it's only that they kind of opened the floodgates and with so much rushing in, it'll be hard to hold back. His mouth presses into a thin line. This isn't going to be as easy as it sounds, he can already tell.

"Right," he says in spite of it all, "yeah, we- You're right."

Danny looks up to meet Steve's eyes, and for the first time today there's a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Thank you," he says, all earnest gratitude, before the smile turns into a smirk and he adds, "it's kinda nice to see you dislike the thought this much, Danno."

Steve gets out before Danny has quite come up with a response to that. He catches up with him on the way towards the building though, grabbing Steve by the elbow without thinking twice, making him stop and turn around.

"I thought you said you wanted us to lay off! I thought you didn't want to start something!"

"I didn't do anything!" Steve says, defensive.

"That," Danny gesticulates towards the car, "was flirting, Steven, there's no other way to call it, and if you don't want to do this," he pushes up on his toes and connects their lips once, quick, "then you can't do that!"

"Oh," Steve says, frowning. "Well. I'll take that under advisement." He gently breaks from Danny's hold and steps back, clearly no better pleased by the necessity than Danny is. And he gets it now, it's really satisfying to see that expression, but it's also confusing as hell, and they've maybe got a case to solve, who knows anymore.

The walk to the beauty parlor is an awkward dance of finding the right distance to one another. They keep bumping arms and hands only to shy apart and then do it all over again. Danny just doesn't know how he used to walk normally next to Steve, he just doesn't. It comes as a relief when they finally enter the shop, even if the surroundings hold more pastel colors than even Grace could comfortably include in the interior design of her room.

The chipper girl at the reception settles them in two oversized plush chairs in a deep, deep pink. Danny has hardly ever felt more out of place. She disappears through an ornamented wooden door to get them a glass of water, and generally proves much more helpful than the clerk at the dry cleaner's.

She has the books open in no time, and while her good mood fades instantly, she manages to get a hold of the owners within minutes. The next half hour passes in a terribly awkward fashion, as Danny and Steve have to mediate the heated argument between husband and wife as to who managed to squander their savings. The unfortunate receptionist watches a marriage in shambles and tries to occupy herself by rearranging the impeccable flowers on her desk.

"So you both are one hundred percent sure you didn't withdraw the money," Danny cuts in eventually, impatient. The air in here is just as bad as the one in the dry cleaner's, and his headache reaches new levels of pain. "Are you the only ones who had access?"

"Oh, no," the wife says immediately.

"There's Dorothy, of course," the husband adds. "But she couldn't have."

Steve sighs. "And who's Dorothy?"

Dorothy Rodes, it turns out, is the manager of the beauty parlor and currently on sick leave. She does have an address, though they don't find anyone there, only a locked front door, which doesn't prove very cooperative. The back door, however, grants them entry after minimal coercion applied by Steve's boot, and Danny just forgoes his usual litany of criticism in a desperate bid to just get this all done with.

The house is rather tidy, or at least the living room is. The bedroom looks as though somebody packed in a hurry, clothes of excellent quality thrown to the ground carelessly, but nothing hints at a fight. At first glance, Danny doesn't find the kitchen any more conspicuous than the living room, but then he notes a rather large amount of empty aluminum foil cartons in the bin.

Accordingly, he isn't surprised when they enter the attic and find what looks like an amateur photo studio, only that instead of photos, dollar bill-sized aluminum foil packages are suspended on the lines. There's a table in a corner which holds an opened package, the money in it looking exactly as bad as the forgeries they saw this morning.

"Oh, Dorothy," Danny says. "Seems like she could, after all."

Steve shakes his head and puts a call through to HPD, telling them to bring the crime lab staff along. 

"At least we know why she called in sick. This would've made me want to bail town, too," Danny remarks as they walk back downstairs.

Steve stops to hold the door open for him when they leave the house. "We still need to find her. She's our only lead."

"We can tell Jerry to monitor her movements. Maybe we'll find some credit card activity. She's hardly going to try to pay with one of the bills."

Steve does call Jerry when they hit the road. Lou already made it back to the Palace, so they get to update both of them at the same time.

"Kono called from the hospital, by the way," Lou informs them once Steve finishes. "Chin is in recovery and doing fine. He's already sent her back to work, but I told her to stay and make sure he behaves."

"Good," Steve says, tension visibly draining from his body, and Danny's heart suddenly feels funny.

"You know," Danny tells him after Steve hung up, "for being so reckless when it comes to yourself, you sure worry a lot about the rest of the team."

"I can take care of myself."

"So can we. But you'd still jump in front of each and every bullet meant for us and hate it when you're too slow to do so."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm the leader of the task force. It's my job to make sure you're okay."

"Then you've got to do your job differently," Danny states, eyes drifting out of the passenger window. Finally, Steve's driving at a normal speed. "Because I'd never be okay if something happened to you."

Steve doesn't answer, and so most of the rest of the ride passes in silence, giving Danny enough time to mull over his own words. It's true, and he has told Steve over and over again, so why does it suddenly sound entirely different?

They park in front of HQ, and Steve's almost out of the car when Danny blurts, "say, can I still tell you that I love you or will that be a problem from now on?"

Steve drops the keys. "What?!"

"That came out wrong, I think." Danny swallows. "Look, it's just, we say it all the time, right? I said it just now. When I tell you I need you to be okay, it's essentially me telling you I love you, isn’t it? I like telling you that I do. And I like it when you say it, too. I just don't want that to change. I don't want us to change."

Steve stares at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and he needs to clear his throat twice before he gets his voice to work. "Danny. No, it's not going to be a- what are you even talking about? Of course you can still tell me you love me. I love you, too, man, just like always. That's not going to change."

"Good," Danny says. "Yeah, that's... That's good."

He feels relieved and stupid at once. Steve's looking at him as if he were something precious, and Danny wants to kiss him so badly it's physically painful to hold back.

"We should go," Danny says, but neither of them moves for the door. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees, his hand inching closer to Danny's where it's resting on the center console.

"There's the case, right?" Danny asks, leaning in a bit.

Steve's hand finds his, their fingers starting to tangle almost on their own. "Right."

Danny knew they'd have issues with the whole not-kissing thing, but he didn't think they'd need this long to extricate themselves from the Camaro in order to make it into the Palace halfway decent. He still feels flushed and out of breath when they're finally gathering around the tech-table, and the way Lou looks at him tells him they're anything but subtle. Nobody says much about it, though, everyone is too busy summing up what they know.

"No credit card movement, yet," Jerry says. 

"And we found no connection between the shops," Lou adds. "Basically, we're still at square one."

"There has to be one. Max says this scheme only works when the perps and the vics are well enough acquainted for the vics to leave the money unguarded for a moment." Danny massages his temples where the headache which faded during the ride is building up again. It takes him a moment to realize that the smell bothering him all day is back.

"Are you a dog now?" Lou asks, frowning, when Danny moves towards him, sniffing. 

"Not my fault that you stink, Grover. What the hell did you do?"

Lou looks down at his shirt, apologetic. "Had a run-in with the flower arrangement at the horse shop's reception."

Enlightenment hits Danny like a freight train. "The flowers! It's the flowers!"

"What?"

"There were the same kind of flower arrangements at the dry cleaner's  and the beauty parlor. They seemed fresh, too. They must get them delivered almost daily, every two to three days, tops," Steve says, catching on.

Lou is already on the phone inquiring about an address, and a few minutes later they're back on the road, weaving through the early evening traffic towards a nondescript area of town harboring a series of smaller-scale businesses. Jerry decided to tag along this time, mainly because the route leads him closer to home. It's about time to wrap up for the day, anyway.

Danny enjoys the uncomplicated atmosphere on this particular ride from the backseat, seeing as Steve won't give up driving and Jerry suits the front seat much better. Besides, this way he can watch Steve's expression flip through various degrees of amused disbelief in the rearview mirror as Jerry explains them once more when exactly the human race was replaced by aliens.

The flower shop owner boards up his store early, but he's still sorting through his goods when they knock and lets them in obligingly enough. 

"What a weird day," Danny mumbles under his breath as they follow the man inside. 

"Why so?" Jerry asks. 

Danny shrugs. "Usually, we get called to a crime scene, find a dead body, start an investigation, have at least one person who requires to be violently tackled to the ground, and end the whole day with a shoot-out. Today, we began with a shoot-out after receiving an anonymous tip about a drug deal, and then started an investigation during which no one feels the need to run. Seems like a bad omen."

"Oh, please," Jerry says, “I didn't think you were that superstitious."

Danny blinks. Steve snorts.

"So, gentlemen," the owner starts, "how can I help you?"

Steve hands over the list of businesses they'd like information on. "Did you deliver flowers to those places?"

"Why, yes. Twice a week, I believe. Let me check my books."

"Books?" Danny asks. "Aren't those things usually kept on a computer these days?"

"I don't use the internet much. I don't want to be a government guinea pig as they try to find out whether or not Wi-Fi is dangerous."

Jerry nods as if this were a perfectly reasonable thing to say. The books indeed show deliveries to the stores on their list. However, the deliveries are taken care of by the shop owner's assistant.

"So where's your assistant now?"

"She's on holiday," the man replies. "Rather suddenly, I might add. She said she wanted to take next week off but called this morning in order to say she has to leave early. Family emergency."

Danny has a feeling about this. "Do you have an address?"

They question him for more information, but it turns out he never showed up at the clients' places in person. "I don't like cozying up to people much," he explains. "Lillian is much better suited for that. She's on good terms with everyone."

The sun is setting as they return to the Camaro. Jerry yawns. 

"Had a late night yesterday," he says. "Mind if I head home? It's not as though this is a life or death kind of situation."

Steve shakes his head and sends Jerry on his way.

"Lou's already home, too," Danny sighs as he puts on his seatbelt. "If I had Grace today, that could be me."

"You mind keeping me company while we work on this a little longer?" Steve asks, setting the indicator.

"Not at all, babe, you know I like you around. I just like it better when I can relax on my couch. Besides, we need food. We haven't eaten all day."

"Tell you what. We'll stop by the assistant's place and on the way back I'll treat you to dinner."

"Using my wallet?" Danny asks.

Steve shrugs. "I'm paying your wages, so isn't that still my treat?"

"The state of Hawaii pays my wages," Danny corrects. "But fine, be that way. You'll have to pay next time, and I'll pick something fancy."

Steve grins. "Want to get me to dress up?"

"Dress up? How about we start with dressing, at all? Because last time I checked, swim trunks don't count as proper leg wear. Are you even wearing anything underneath?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of Steve's nether regions. 

Steve raises a challenging eyebrow at him. "Want me to show you?"

A beat of silence passes between them, during which they blink at each other owlishly. Then embarrassment catches up, and Danny has to cover his face. Steve groans.

"I'm sorry," he says. "That was terrible."

"No, it's alright. I'm sorry, too. It's my fault, I shouldn't have… " Danny mumbles into his hands. Luckily, the drive afterwards is a short one.

Just like with Dorothy Rodes, Lillian Hartgrove's house is deserted. Only here, there are no traces of aluminum foil covered banknotes. The only objects out of place are a couple of unopened invoices and a case that looks rather a lot like the one the forgers had this morning. 

"Could be a coincidence," Danny points out.

Steve shakes his head, putting down a picture of the young house owner, a pretty blonde with a smattering of freckles across the nose. "I don't really believe in that."

"Leave the house for the HPD to monitor in case someone returns?" Danny suggests. 

Steve nods. "Let's look around one last time, before we go."

They don't find much, even on closer inspection, besides a phenomenal collection of shoes. They're in pristine condition, well stored with low lighting in the coolest room of the house to prevent the material from deteriorating. 

"She knew how to preserve her clothes," Danny says to Steve, closing the door behind him. "But I don't see anything that might give us a clue as to where she would go on holidays."

"Or where she would run to."

They call HPD and, just in case, the TSA. Better to be safe than sorry. Steve doesn't want to go on another detour to get his car, so they both end up at his place with rapidly cooling take out boxes and tiredness heavy in their bones. Danny slumps down on the couch and Steve joins him moments later, two beers in hand. They put on a game while eating, but Danny's attention begins to drift after a couple of passes.

He knows he should head home before he simply crashes here, but it's so comfortable with Steve as a solid source of warmth by his side. Once the food is gone, Danny places the empty containers on the couch table. When he leans back, Steve has his arm on the backrest, allowing Danny to snuggle into his side fully and put his head against Steve's shoulder.

"I should go," Danny sighs. "I need to sleep."

"You could do that here. I've got space." Steve yawns. 

"I need to shower, too. And to shave. As do you, by the way," Danny says, blindly reaching up to Steve's cheek to run his fingers over the stubble he finds there.

Steve hums and presses his face into Danny's palm. "You could always borrow stuff from me. It's not as though I don't have a spare razor and toothbrush."

Danny thinks of his empty home and the dark drive back. "You know, that sounds good, actually." He turns his head towards Steve on instinct. "Thanks, babe."

It's ridiculously easy to kiss Steve, is the thing. Danny knows they said they shouldn't, but he finds no motivation in himself to stop, and Steve seems to be in a similar state of mind. Things progress from a mostly vertical to a horizontal position, and while neither attempts anything more outrageous than putting a hand underneath a t-shirt, Danny feels as though they've kind of sealed the deal. Which deal he can't say, but he's positive the entire trying-to-figure-it-out phase of their situation is over.

By the end of the game, Steve's head is resting on Danny's chest, his hand drawing idle patterns on Danny's stomach. Danny cards his fingers through Steve's hair, feeling satiated and tired and warm.

"We should go to bed," he says. 

"Hmm." Steve levers himself off the couch and pulls Danny to his feet. As he leads the way upstairs, Danny assumes for a second he'll be shown to the guest room, but Steve simply opens the door to his bedroom and waits for him to walk through. The only strange thing is how actually none of it feels strange. They strip down to their boxers and get under the covers together, slotting themselves in place naturally.

"Why haven't we been doing this for months?" Steve asks after a heartbeat.

"No idea," Danny says, and turns off the lights.

Chapter Text

"And I still don't believe in butter in my coffee, thanks. My arteries start to shrivel at the thought alone," Danny says, rummaging through Steve's fridge the next morning, hunting for milk.

"Your arteries are shriveling because of all the trans fats you're putting into your body. And the sugar," Steve corrects. He places a bowl of cereal in front of Danny that has to be completely devoid of taste.

"Are you worried for my health, babe?"

Steve shrugs. "You mentioned your arteries. I'd just like to keep you around, is all."

Danny smiles. "I take care of myself."

"Sure you do. As long as there's no breakfast cereal available," Steve says, bending over the counter to add a sprinkle of hazelnuts to Danny's bowl.

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on," Steve huffs and pushes himself into the space at Danny's side with his own bowl of cereal, "hazelnut is good for the brain."

"Is that why I got saddled with such a nut job?" Danny grumbles, but Steve just laughs and pecks his cheek once, quick.

"You love me."

"I do," Danny agrees.

Steve is still smiling at him. "Same as always?"

And yeah, Danny thinks, maybe they've been way too stupid about this from the start. "Same as always."

They get to work late because Danny insists on stopping by his place so he can change. No matter how they apparently misjudged the nature of their relationship thus far, their clothes haven't begun to migrate to the other's place, an oversight that needs to be addressed soon, no doubt. Danny's fairly sure they look as they always do when they enter the room, so he's somewhat surprised when Lou gives him a quizzical once-over.

"Did you finally come across an authentic Italian pizza place? I've never seen you this radiant," he tells Danny. 

"Just a good night of sleep," Danny says.

Besides him, Steve's oozing smugness.

"Morning, boss. Morning, Danny," Kono greets them as they join her by the tech-table. "Lou brought me up to speed already. So far, no hits on the two missing women."

Steve nods. "Alright. How's Chin?"

"Bored out of his skull, but fine otherwise." Kono smiles. "I told him he better stay put or I'd tell his mom."

"We also heard from Max," Lou adds. "The chemicals on the hands of the two dead guys in the library are identical to those on the fake bills. He says there's no doubt it was really them who 'washed' the money."

"Good," Danny says, looking at the board and scratching his chin.

"Something bothering you?" Steve asks. 

Danny shakes his head. "It's just weird that the forgers didn't have the real money on them when we found them. Where has that gone? Because I find it hard to believe they thought their forgeries were good enough for the deal."

"Right," Steve says, "someone must've replaced it."

"We've gotten an anonymous tip," Jerry puts in. "What if the tipper got there first and took the money?"

"I think we're still missing the mastermind of all this." Steve looks at the picture of Lillian Hartgrove on the wall. "She isn't the type to think up such a shady con.  Her background check came up clean."

"I agree," Lou says. "Also, why hasn't the owner of the riding equipment store or the dry cleaner's guy gone to the police? There's a lot of money at stake, isn't there? It's suspicious."

Danny sighs. "Wanna bet the owner of the dry cleaner's is still out of town?"

Kono digs up the information on the guy at lightning speed. She whistles. "Meet Gibson Coleman. Quite a list of charges against him."

"That store was way too nice to be a simple dry cleaner's, anyway. Talk about money laundering," Danny says.

"Alright. Kono, Lou, you hit the horse guys again, get some answers. Jerry, you can run some more background checks on the employees, in case we're missing something. Danny and I will pay Coleman a visit." Steve is already steering Danny out of the door as he speaks, his hand low on Danny's back. 

"Don't you think you're a little touchy?" Danny asks once they're on their way, Steve weaving the Camaro into traffic. 

Steve shoots him a side glance. "I thought you were on board with this."

"No, I am, it's just I assumed we wanted to keep a low profile."

"Maybe you should do something about the fact that you're glowing like a goddamn Christmas tree, then."

Danny scowls. "Listen, I can't help that, alright? This makes me happy. You make me happy, you gigantic idiot. But if you don't want people to ask weird questions, maybe you shouldn't look this smug about it."

"Weird questions?" Steve snorts. "Like what?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. How long we've been together, who confessed, since when we're doing it, that kind of stuff."

"The only person I know who's insensitive enough to ask me stuff like that is you."

Danny shrugs. "Yeah, that's because I usually beat Kono and Chin to it, when it comes to you."

"You're rather invested in my private life." Steve smirks. 

"Please! Pot calling the kettle black, babe. You used to know more about my dating record than I did at times."

"I like how you can't keep your hands still when you're angry. It's endearing."

Danny pokes his index finger against Steve's shoulder. "Do not flirt with me, I was making a point here. Do you, or do you not want to answer intrusive questions about our sex life? Because that's where this is going if we keep it up."

"But we've got nothing to say about that. We don't have a sex life."

"I know that. But I don't think the others will believe it. Besides," Danny hedges, looking anywhere but at Steve, "are you sure that's not going to change?"

Steve almost misses the light turning red, hitting the breaks violently enough for Danny's neck to stretch uncomfortably.

"Hey, be careful with my car! What if the person behind us didn't stop in time?!"

Danny turns to glower at Steve, only to find a very complicated expression on his face.

"Did you- did you just proposition me, Danny?"

Danny flushes and hurriedly looks the other way again. "No! Well, not exactly. I was just extrapolating from how things went so far and-"

"Ended up there?" Steve tries.

"I guess," Danny mumbles towards the dashboard, still feeling way too hot under his skin. 

"Danny. Danno," Steve says, reaching for his hand to make him meet his eyes. "Are you sure? You really want that? With me?"

He sounds so damn earnest and almost hopeful, and Danny is kind of done with self-denial. Because yeah, this might be new, but somehow he doubts there's any part of Steve that he might not want. 

"Yes. Yeah. I'm sure. If it's you, I'm sure."

Instead of an answer, Steve just kisses him, all fierceness and hunger, and they probably wouldn't have made it anywhere with their case work if it wasn't for the person in the car behind them honking aggressively when they missed the changing of the lights. Because if Steve keeps doing things like that to Danny's mouth, they'll need to find a bed fast to see what else they can do to each other. 

The house of Gibson Coleman doesn't require any forcing it open, because somebody already did that for them. Finally, Danny encounters the kind of chaotic scene he's used to, complete with another victim, who's easily identified as their missing Mr. Coleman, sporting the obligatory GSW to the chest. They call the forensics department and the crime lab. Max is happy to have some more work.

"I was beginning to speculate whether the body count on your cases began showing a downward trend. I'm pleased to find I do not have to correct my initial assessments," he says. 

The house of Mr. Coleman proves much more informative than the previous ones. Contrary to the flower shop owner, he did keep digital records of his business, most of which had little to do with cleaning clothes. 

"At least we finally have someone to bring in for questioning," Danny says. "Maybe that clerk will be more helpful with his hands chained to a chair."

It turns out that Kono, despite the laid-back behavior of this morning, does hold a grudge against people who might have been involved in sending her cousin to the hospital. She's already finished milking the owner of the riding equipment store for information and is more than pleased to continue doing so with the dry cleaner's employee Danny and Steve deliver to the interrogation room slightly damaged, because now he did try to run. 

"I have a good feeling about this," Danny tells Steve as they close the door behind themselves, the unlucky guy trembling before the vicious expression on Kono's face. 

He's proven correct. For while the horse shop owner only admitted to being 'blinded by greed', as Steve puts it diplomatically, the dry cleaner's clerk has doubled as an errand boy from time to time and actually knows enough about his boss's business to help them put together quite a few of the pieces. 

"So," Kono explains, "Mr . Coleman got in contact with a couple of people experienced in running that kind of scam and helped connect them with potential victims. In order to create an alibi, he pretended to be a victim, too."

"He decided to use Lillian Hartgrove to spread the word, because he knew she had quite a reach. The employee thinks he offered her a percentage," Lou adds.

At that moment, Jerry comes back into the room, phone still in hand. "Eric just called from the lab. They got a hit on the gun. It's officially registered."

"To whom?" Steve asks. 

"Dorothy Rodes' boss," Jerry says. 

"Oh, Dorothy," Danny sighs, shaking his head. "Can you find out if she had access to it?"

"On it!"

Kono reaches for the keyboard. "Seems like the girls decided to run their own coup." She pulls up their information. "There's been no hits on their phones or credit cards. Not that they'd need to use them with the amount of cash they've got."

Steve skims the bank records of Dorothy and Lillian, whistling low under his breath. "They're fashion girls."

They rather are, Danny has to agree, a solid amount of money going into clothes each month. "How on earth could they afford that with their kind of jobs?"

"Well, Lillian couldn't. Her credit cards are pretty maxed out," Kono says, going over the numbers. "Dorothy seems to be well off, though."

"Ah, I actually found out yesterday that she inherited a fortune from an aunt of hers," Jerry pipes up, phone pressed to his ear as he waits for the call to go through.

Danny frowns. "Why would she agree to go along with the plan, then? What's her motive?"

"I found some court records on her. Seems her aunt owned a range of properties and there was a disagreement between her and some cousins about how to split them up. With that kind of money, she could just buy them out of their shares." The call goes through then, and Jerry disappears into Steve's office to take notes.

"Are any of those properties located in a remote area, by chance?" Danny asks the rest.

It turns out that one is. The ride there passes in a flash, leaving Danny with wobbly legs when he steps onto the gravel; though only the kind he's come to associate with Steve's reckless driving. The house is located rather exposed on a cliff, offering a nice view of the ocean and an excellent place for a shoot-out, especially when boarded up inside sitting on a mountain of cash like a goddamn dragon.

Danny ducks his head behind a barn about halfway up the driveway, Steve right next to him. Lou and Kono have taken cover behind a couple of trees on the other side of the road, and Danny thinks they could probably make it around the building if they follow a line of bushes to their right. 

"Cover me," Steve whispers while signaling for Kono and Lou to move in.

Danny is way too accustomed to that kind of madness to protest now, but he makes a mental bookmark to complain later. He starts shooting immediately, and Steve uses the moment to roll across the open space and hide underneath the porch. Bullets sail over his head, missing him by inches, before burying themselves in the wood. Danny ducks back behind the barn, heart thundering in his chest. 

"Dorothy! Lillian! It's time to give up. We've got you surrounded. HPD is sending the SWAT team as we speak," he yells, but all it earns him is another round.

Steve sneaks to the side of the building, probing the windows silently. Danny watches as one swings in its hinges and Steve disappears from sight. He tightens the grip on his gun, bends around the barn wall and fires a series of shots at the nearest window. Glass rains down on the porch steps. The answer is immediate. After a couple of rounds, however, the return fire stops. Danny sits behind his cover, grinding his teeth and hoping for the best. The moments of ensuing silence are even worse than the bullets hitting the other side of the flimsy wooden wall.

HPD arrives with reinforcement just in time to escort the suspects back to town. Indeed, Steve, Lou, and Kono march the women out of the building when the first SWAT vehicle pulls into the driveway, and Danny lets out a breath of relief at seeing Steve's big, goofy smile, all of them unharmed.

"We could've just waited another five minutes before heading in without backup, you know?" he grumbles, but it's more for formality's sake than anything else. Steve slings an arm around his shoulder and walks them both back to the Camaro, leaving HPD to deal with the rest. He hardly waits for Danny to close the door behind him before he pulls him into a kiss that can only be described as victorious.

"Hey," Danny complains, "what about hmph-"

"Nobody's gonna look," Steve says, but he does start the engine and gets them to the Palace for a debrief with only a slight detour for some more personal decompressing.

It's quickly decided that their workday can be cut short; reports are conveniently postponed to the next week despite Danny pointing out how stupid that is because they'll still have to be written. Then they're off to Kamekona's for a pretty timely lunch break. Steve's in a splendid mood, reaching for the radio as they drive towards the beach. Danny has hardly time to register that his phone is still coupled with the car when Grace's love song starts blaring from the sound system.

"What is that?" Steve asks, bewildered. 

"Selena Gomez, I believe," Danny informs him. 

"Grace?" Steve guesses.

Danny grunts.

Steve shoots him a sidelong glance. "Why do you look so uncomfortable listening to it? I mean, it's not my type of music, but it's not that terrible."

He could lie, but Steve has the kind of look that tells him he's going to be like a dog with a bone about this. Better to get it over with, then. "The reason I kissed you in the first place is because this stupid song made me think of you."

Steve says nothing for a long time, but the grin on his face is all the answer Danny needs to know that he's not going to let this go fast. Or ever.  He insists on listening to the track again and again, and when they exit the car, he keeps humming it under his breath. Danny's elbow connects with his rips none too gently.

The team has already occupied their usual table and Chin apparently decided he was well enough for an outing, because he's there as well. They all turn and smile at them, cheerful and safe and sound, and Steve loses the last lines of tension around his eyes. And yeah, Danny thinks, that's probably exactly why he loves this monumentally stupid, selfless guy so much.

Jerry does his best to fill Chin in with what happened, perhaps a bit of boasting added here and there when it comes to his own detecting skills. Chin listens patiently, looking appropriately awed in the right moments.

"I still don't get how you could be ready to go on a crime spree just to finance your 100th pair of shoes," Lou puts in, as Jerry winds down.

"As they say, Lou, the heart wants what it wants," Steve says happily.

"Oh, just shut up already," Danny hisses.

Steve smirks. "Why don't you make me, Danno?" 

Thing is, when Danny turns towards him, their faces are once again way too close. They're breathing the same air, and it's just too easy to cover Steve's mouth with his own. Steve doesn't hold back in the least, leaving Danny breathless and dazed, but he shuts up for all of ten seconds before they both realize they didn't think this one through. They pull apart and turn to bear the variety of surprised and exasperated looks of their friends. 

"Uh," Danny says eloquently. Steve reaches for his bottle and takes a large swig.

Chin laughs. Jerry scratches his beard. Lou is shaking his head. 

"So," Kono begins, giving them a sunny smile, "who tops?"

Danny just manages to duck out of the way as a spray of beer bursts from Steve's mouth.

"See?" he says as he takes Steve's hand under the table. "Called that one."