"So Straub and Queens are both swamped, big pileup from the fog on the freeway, and Kapi'olani can't send anybody til seven," Steve announces with his arms crossed as if he's going to ward off a sneak infant attacks. "They said we could bring her in any time, but--"
"We don't have a car seat," Danny finishes. He sets the bottle on the floor next to the chair and sits the baby up so he can soundly tap her back until she lets out an impressive little belch. He catches the milk that comes with it using a shirt he'd fished out of Steve's desk drawer.
"Is that my shirt?" Steve asks.
Danny doesn't even look up. "For the cause, my friend, for the cause." He sits back and snuggles the nearly-asleep baby up against his chest before he slowly levers himself out of the chair. His back and his knee have both gone stiff; he figures he'll walk it out a bit. "You look like shit, McGarrett. Tell you what, I'll take over, as I have been doing since I walked in, and you go home and get some sleep. The EMTs will arrive and I will ensure this little lady is settled where she belongs. Then I will go home to sleep and you can go catch bad guys without me tomorrow. Today. Whatever."
Steve continues to stand in the middle of the office, looking exhausted and obstinate. The baby gives a happy little sigh, and Danny pats her back.
"You're good at that," Steve says quietly, almost admiring, before he coughs self-consciously. "A natural."
"The first time they gave me Gracie she was about this big, and she was utterly furious," Danny half-whispers and stops to stand just in front of Steve. "She had the Williams lungs, and I was absolutely certain I was going to gravely injure her if I breathed on her wrong. We couldn't believe they let us leave the hospital with her."
"I've never," Steve says, watching the baby, "I've never held one so little. I was sure I was going to break something."
"Nah, they're actually pretty resilient," Danny tells him, and he's tempted to give the baby to him--you don't get good at something unless you practice, after all--except he looks pretty beat. "Steve. Go home, I got this."
Not Trained for This (3/?)
"We don't have a car seat," Danny finishes. He sets the bottle on the floor next to the chair and sits the baby up so he can soundly tap her back until she lets out an impressive little belch. He catches the milk that comes with it using a shirt he'd fished out of Steve's desk drawer.
"Is that my shirt?" Steve asks.
Danny doesn't even look up. "For the cause, my friend, for the cause." He sits back and snuggles the nearly-asleep baby up against his chest before he slowly levers himself out of the chair. His back and his knee have both gone stiff; he figures he'll walk it out a bit. "You look like shit, McGarrett. Tell you what, I'll take over, as I have been doing since I walked in, and you go home and get some sleep. The EMTs will arrive and I will ensure this little lady is settled where she belongs. Then I will go home to sleep and you can go catch bad guys without me tomorrow. Today. Whatever."
Steve continues to stand in the middle of the office, looking exhausted and obstinate. The baby gives a happy little sigh, and Danny pats her back.
"You're good at that," Steve says quietly, almost admiring, before he coughs self-consciously. "A natural."
"The first time they gave me Gracie she was about this big, and she was utterly furious," Danny half-whispers and stops to stand just in front of Steve. "She had the Williams lungs, and I was absolutely certain I was going to gravely injure her if I breathed on her wrong. We couldn't believe they let us leave the hospital with her."
"I've never," Steve says, watching the baby, "I've never held one so little. I was sure I was going to break something."
"Nah, they're actually pretty resilient," Danny tells him, and he's tempted to give the baby to him--you don't get good at something unless you practice, after all--except he looks pretty beat. "Steve. Go home, I got this."