Danny lost track of the amount of weird shit he'd seen when he was still working his first beat back in Jersey. There'd been a time when he was young and dumb enough to say that he'd seen it all. He hadn't seen a fraction of it, and Danny wasn't even close to the level of idiot it'd take for him to try and make the same claim now.
Still. Still. Danny looked down at Steve on the floor, and blinked hard. "You bleeding?" he asked, his voice kept carefully even.
Steve, the idiot, shook his head, maybe a little dazed as he said, "That's your don't-fight-in-front-of-Grace voice." He at least had enough of a clue to sound a little bit worried. A little bit.
Danny laughed, harsh and uncontrollable and maybe just a little hysterical. This was so far beyond a crack den of coffin dwelling vampire-wannabe teenagers that Danny was almost sure it had happened in another life. "I hate to be a nag, I do—sometimes, Steve, swear to god, I sound so much like my mother I've got to check my six to make sure she isn't there. I have to make sure my mother isn't speaking for me, Steven, how do you think that makes me feel?"
"Like an asshole," Steve said, because he would never lower himself to guessing, oh no, not that. Steve McGarrett didn't guess, he mocked the law until he was handed the truth in a gift wrapped package. It was no wonder Danny hadn't managed to train him out of his stupid habits; they kept getting him results.
"No, no, you want to talk about asshole behavior, we'll talk about Things Assholes Do. One, assholes kick doors down before getting a warrant." Danny waved his hands, too worked up already to rein them in, his volume reaching levels that would probably draw the entire block out of their homes in a slightly better neighborhood. "Two, assholes touch potential evidence of Mad Science-ry. Three, assholes insist they know what they are doing when, in fact, they do not."
Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again quickly when Danny crouched down to wave four fingers in front of his face angrily.
"Four," Danny said, with the edges clipped and sharp enough to make better men than Steve take a step back. Steve didn't. "Assholes don't listen when their smarter and more rational partner says, 'don't play with the thing labeled shrink ray.'"
"I had it under control!" Steve insisted, because he always knew exactly the wrong thing to say.
"I told you!" Danny poked him in the chest, not, despite the look of betrayal Steve leveled at him, all that hard. It just doesn't take a lot of pressure to knock someone on their ass when they're a whopping twelve inches tall. "I told you not to play with it, no matter how much it looked like a fun new toy for you to threaten and maim suspects with. I told you."
"Are you done?" Steve asked, looking ready to take a tiny, ineffectual swing at Danny. "Aren't mad scientists supposed to live in cold, damp places? Like Jersey. There was no reason to suspect anything on this island was a shrink ray."
"First of all," Danny said, pointing at Steve again, dangerously close to another shove. He spent enough time with an eight year old girl to know exactly how easy it would be to do some damage to a fucking Ken doll. "First of all, no. No, leaving aside the fact that everyone on this island is insane—leaving aside the slurs on my homeland, and the fact that I never once had to deal with my partner suddenly becoming a live action GI Joe back in Jersey—you could absolutely tell there was reason to suspect it was a goddamn shrink ray, since it was clearly labeled. Say what you will about the man's mental state, at least he's well organized."
"GI Joe is Army, Danny. Army."
Danny stood from his crouch with an unpleasant pop of his knee and a twist in his gut. "Keep it up," he said, as threatening as he knew how to be with a Steve who couldn't fight back. He scooped Steve up without letting himself think about it, and ignored Steve's struggle against his grip. "Keep it up, I'll let Gracie babysit you while we figure this out. She's got a Barbie dream house that'd be perfect."
"You wouldn't dare," Steve says. "I won't be tiny forever."
Danny snorted. It was easier than thinking of the alternative.
So Real Lying Here 1/?
Still. Still. Danny looked down at Steve on the floor, and blinked hard. "You bleeding?" he asked, his voice kept carefully even.
Steve, the idiot, shook his head, maybe a little dazed as he said, "That's your don't-fight-in-front-of-Grace voice." He at least had enough of a clue to sound a little bit worried. A little bit.
Danny laughed, harsh and uncontrollable and maybe just a little hysterical. This was so far beyond a crack den of coffin dwelling vampire-wannabe teenagers that Danny was almost sure it had happened in another life. "I hate to be a nag, I do—sometimes, Steve, swear to god, I sound so much like my mother I've got to check my six to make sure she isn't there. I have to make sure my mother isn't speaking for me, Steven, how do you think that makes me feel?"
"Like an asshole," Steve said, because he would never lower himself to guessing, oh no, not that. Steve McGarrett didn't guess, he mocked the law until he was handed the truth in a gift wrapped package. It was no wonder Danny hadn't managed to train him out of his stupid habits; they kept getting him results.
"No, no, you want to talk about asshole behavior, we'll talk about Things Assholes Do. One, assholes kick doors down before getting a warrant." Danny waved his hands, too worked up already to rein them in, his volume reaching levels that would probably draw the entire block out of their homes in a slightly better neighborhood. "Two, assholes touch potential evidence of Mad Science-ry. Three, assholes insist they know what they are doing when, in fact, they do not."
Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again quickly when Danny crouched down to wave four fingers in front of his face angrily.
"Four," Danny said, with the edges clipped and sharp enough to make better men than Steve take a step back. Steve didn't. "Assholes don't listen when their smarter and more rational partner says, 'don't play with the thing labeled shrink ray.'"
"I had it under control!" Steve insisted, because he always knew exactly the wrong thing to say.
"I told you!" Danny poked him in the chest, not, despite the look of betrayal Steve leveled at him, all that hard. It just doesn't take a lot of pressure to knock someone on their ass when they're a whopping twelve inches tall. "I told you not to play with it, no matter how much it looked like a fun new toy for you to threaten and maim suspects with. I told you."
"Are you done?" Steve asked, looking ready to take a tiny, ineffectual swing at Danny. "Aren't mad scientists supposed to live in cold, damp places? Like Jersey. There was no reason to suspect anything on this island was a shrink ray."
"First of all," Danny said, pointing at Steve again, dangerously close to another shove. He spent enough time with an eight year old girl to know exactly how easy it would be to do some damage to a fucking Ken doll. "First of all, no. No, leaving aside the fact that everyone on this island is insane—leaving aside the slurs on my homeland, and the fact that I never once had to deal with my partner suddenly becoming a live action GI Joe back in Jersey—you could absolutely tell there was reason to suspect it was a goddamn shrink ray, since it was clearly labeled. Say what you will about the man's mental state, at least he's well organized."
"GI Joe is Army, Danny. Army."
Danny stood from his crouch with an unpleasant pop of his knee and a twist in his gut. "Keep it up," he said, as threatening as he knew how to be with a Steve who couldn't fight back. He scooped Steve up without letting himself think about it, and ignored Steve's struggle against his grip. "Keep it up, I'll let Gracie babysit you while we figure this out. She's got a Barbie dream house that'd be perfect."
"You wouldn't dare," Steve says. "I won't be tiny forever."
Danny snorted. It was easier than thinking of the alternative.