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sealieRating: Slash; h/c
Word count: ~2,500
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – patient and dedicated. I’m dedicating this chapter to you
And we’re back…. In celebration(?) commiseration at the end of season IV and months ahead of us before season V begins.
Last time on The co-operative:
￭ Steve decided to explore learning ASL;
￭ Danny thought that Steve learning ASL was a good thing;
￭ Rodney McKay made a tiny cameo appearance, so small no one noticed, and (importantly)
￭ Danny was über sneaky and stole the slides that he thought relevant to theircase mystery.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Paulo’s on duty again.” Danny nodded at the man scowling at him from the front seat of the Kapu-owned Chevrolet Silverado.
Steve shot a glance across to the vehicle outside the House gates as he smoothly slowed to turn into the drive.
“I’d like to know what I did to make him look at me like dog dirt,” Danny continued.
“Dog dirt?” Steve grinned, as he turned through the opened wrought iron gates.
“I have a seven and a half year old,” Danny pointed out.
“Kavika doesn’t like you much. It’s probably transference.”
“Does Kavika like anyone?” Danny wondered. “He probably doesn’t like Paulo, ‘cause he never gives him time off. I think that’s unconstitutional.”
“I don’t think they have a union.”
The crunch of gravel under the truck’s wheels was strangely appropriate -- grind, grind, grind. Steve pulled into his preferred parking place beside the workshops, and yanked on the parking brake.
“How much trouble do you think we’re in?” Danny asked, checking his watch. It was well after eight o’clock.
“I guess it depends what Kono’s prepared.” Steve indicated with a flick of his fingers for Danny to walk ahead on the winding path leading to the kitchen’s welcoming lights.
“Yeah, right, Babe. It was your decision to go to the coffee meeting.” Danny dug his heels in, and bowed with a flourish, gesturing with an extravagant wave that Steve could go first.
Nose high, Steve stalked ahead, and Danny fell in behind. Steve would get the volcanic blast that was no doubt about to be levelled, and Danny got to admire his ass in the tight, black pants.
“Win. Win. Heh.” Danny said, as a disgruntled Steve contemplated the closed screen door.
Turning, Steve eyed him, and then taking a breath, he opened the kitchen door and stepped in. Chin, Malia, Mary, Kono and Toast stopped chatting. Silence, Danny thought, always a good sign -- not. He peered around Steve’s breadth.
“I texted,” Steve protested to the weighing jury. “It was… necessary.”
“Your dinner is in the dog,” Kono said.
“We don’t have a dog,” Danny protested. “Not even a house cat, which is all together strange.”
Kono pointed an emphatic trigger finger at him. Danny shut up.
“I slaved over a hot stove,” Kono said dramatically, hand planted over her heart.
“She did,” Toast added mock-sadly. “She wanted to make something special. On par with Chin’s amazing food.”
Chin elbowed Toast in the ribs, hard.
“I’m sorry, Kono.” Steve hung his head, hamming it up, shoulders slumping.
“What can we do to make it up to you?” Danny grinned, enjoying the show.
“Dishes,” Kono proclaimed, imperiously. “You can do the dishes.”
They were actually down to do the clean up, which Kono knew.
“Your wish is our command.” Danny sketched a bow.
“Eh?” Steve asked.
“Just go with it, Babe,” Danny said, and setting a hand on Steve’s ass he pushed him into the kitchen.
“What are we having?” Steve asked as he slid across the tiled floor.
Kono jerked her thumb at the oven. “Crab cakes with mango and rice salad.”
There was a large bowl on the table, which looked like it was filled with white rice dotted with colourful fragments of chopped fruit and vegetables, so Danny assumed that the crab cakes were in the oven keeping warm. He went to the oven to get the crab cakes as Steve hung his backpack on the coat hanger on the back of the kitchen door.
The crab cakes looked a little on the crispy side. “They smell awesome,” Danny said diplomatically. There were two large patties each.
Steve sat, grabbing their plates sitting over a warming candle tray on the table, and set them side by side. Reaching over the table, Danny slid a couple of cakes onto each of their plates using a cake slicer, because he couldn’t find anything else. The roasting pan and the cake slicer ended up in the sink, landing on top of a charred frying pan. Danny plonked down into his customary place.
“So what held you up? You know, since you’re pointedly not saying where you’ve been,” Mary asked, eyes narrowing.
Pausing as he dumped a mounded spoonful of rice onto Danny’s plate, Steve stared at his sister.
“And?” Mary leaned back in her chair, and looked down her nose at Steve.
Danny had seen that exact same expression on Steve’s mobile face. The same lift of the chin and contemplation of excrement through long lashes. It was either their mother’s or father’s inheritance, he figured.
“None of your business, Sis.” Steve bared his teeth.
“Jesus. It’s not a secret.” Danny elbowed him in his good side.
Steve pursed his lips at Danny, and Danny shrugged back at him, conveying: share with your family, goof ball.
“We went to an ASL meeting,” Steve grated. “And I wanted to replace Irene and Blair’s jogging stroller.”
“ASL?” Kono asked.
“American Sign Language,” Danny answered when Steve didn’t.
“Excellent,” Chin said, and then changed the subject with aplomb. “So what do you want to drink? We have a NV Louis Drescher Amor Cava or an Albariño, if you don’t like bubbles.”
“Ooh, bubbles.” Danny selected the thin-stemmed, narrow glass at his place setting, and held it towards Chin.
Seolh and food, and his tummy, it was a match made in heaven.
~*~
Danny admired Steve’s forearms as he scrubbed at the frying pan in the soapy water-filled sink.
“What?” Steve asked.
In answer, Danny leaned forwards and kissed the tip of Steve’s beaky nose. Steve scrunched it up, perplexed.
Chortling, Danny grabbed the damp cloth, which he had been after, and turned back to the kitchen table to wipe it clean. He corralled crumbs with the cloth and then ferried them over to shake them into the garbage can.
“Does the mango chilli chutney stuff go in the fridge or the cupboard?” Danny asked as he lobbed the cloth, with unerring accuracy, into the sink.
“What?” Steve asked, dodging out of the way of the cloth-missile as it splashed down.
Danny pointed to the homemade chutney on the counter beside Steve’s elbow, and then at the cupboard with the shelf dedicated to honeys, syrups of all types and condiments, including the dreaded Hersey’s chocolate syrup.
“Dunno,” Steve shrugged. “I’m guessing Kono’s mom made it. It won’t harm it to go in the fridge, will it?”
“Nah,” Danny judged.
“Very domestic,” a dry voice interrupted them.
Joe White was framed in the kitchen doorway regarding them as they cleaned.
“Hey, you came,” Steve smiled widely.
“Was there any doubt? I said that I would.”
“Something could have cropped up.” Steve dumped the frying pan on the draining board and dried his hands.
“I would have texted.” White stepped over the threshold, uninvited. So he wasn’t a vampire, Danny judged, possibly….
“Sir.” Steve came around the table and shook his hand.
“Hey, you want a beer or something?” Danny opened the fridge, put Kono’s mom’s chutney away and pulled out three long stem bottles of Pale Ale.
“Sure,” White drawled, as he sat at the long kitchen table.
“Steve?” Danny asked.
Steve nodded. He hadn’t partaken of the cava or the dry white wine at dinner so Danny actually doubted that he wanted a beer, but he wasn’t not going to indulge if White drank.
“Bottle opener?” Danny sat with a thump opposite White.
Both Steve and White presented him with Swiss Army knives.
“So well prepared.” Danny took the Swiss Army knife from Steve, as Steve came around the table and sat beside him.
“So what did you want to talk about, son, apart from accusing me deliberately of holding back information,” White sallied.
“Are you sure that you didn’t?” Steve riposted.
White splayed his hands. “You understand ‘classified’. And it was twenty years ago. I told you, your mom was just a low key, ‘friendly operative’ simply observing the Noshimuri family.”
“But it has to be relevant,” Steve protested.
“Really?” White shook his head. “You’ve been hunting the Hesse Brothers. You put a considerable dent in their organisation, son, with your relentless pursuit. Wo Fat is their boss. He’s been operating in the Islands for decades; a lot of his revenue is linked to and through Hawaii.”
Steve glanced fleetingly at Danny. “If you think it is just about me being a pain in the ass, why haven’t I just been taken out?”
“Lack of opportunity,” White said. “You are under surveillance. There’s a risk versus reward thing going on here. Son, you’re not going to be a SEAL again. What does killing you actually achieve?”
Ooh, Danny thought, go straight for the jugular.
“Okay, that kind of makes sense,” Danny said, giving Steve time to recover. “So why the shenanigans to search the House?”
“They wanted the camera, remember?” White said perplexed. “They didn’t want P-One’s, Wo Fat’s, identity known.”
“They tossed the House,” Steve clarified.
“Maybe they thought that you might have some paperwork lying around or something.” White took a slug of beer. “There’s valuable stuff lying around this walking garage sale.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose high.
“Okay, I’m missing something here,” White said. “Why do you think that Wo Fat’s interested in your mom’s work with the Noshimuri family?”
Danny put his foot on top of Steve’s.
“We’re just trying to figure out what’s what,” Danny said. “None of this makes sense, and it’s doubly creepy that the weirdest thing is that Wo Fat hasn’t just killed Steve. Do you think we want to spend the rest of our lives in protective custody?”
“We will catch him,” White said, “trust us. We will catch the son of a bitch.”
“So we’re also bait,” Danny said pithily.
Sighing, White slumped in his seat. “Yes,” he admitted. “The threat assessment level is low-to-medium, though. If he was going to do it, he would have done it already. But I’m not discounting that there’s a threat.”
“Well, why don’t we make him come to us?” Steve said straightening in his seat.
“Babe?” Danny jerked back in his seat, horrified.
“Pull back the guys camped out in the woods out back. Take away the surveillance truck parked on Kala Drive,” Steve said intently. “I’ll get Kavika to get the Kapu to stand down. Mamo doesn’t have to come around. Chin and Kono can stay at Malia’s place. I’ll give Toast airfare to visit his parents. Mary can stay with Mamo.”
“And Danny?” White asked.
“Mamo would be happy to have Danny stay with him.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Danny protested.
“That will leave you unprotected,” White said. “That’s not an option.”
“Too damn right,” Danny said.
“Danny, it’s the best plan yet,” Steve said, eyes bright. “I’m not talking about all of the protection, but pull back. Let Wo Fat come to us.”
White shook his head, slowly from side to side. “No. No.”
“Why not? I can look after myself.”
“I made a promise to your father and your mother, god rest their souls. I was there at your christening,” White said. “You’re injured. You’re not fit. You’re not there yet, Steve. I can’t countenance that approach. It’s suicide.”
Steve thumped his bottle of beer down hard, but he didn’t say a word.
White drew a hand over his lips and down his chin. He looked tired and old, Danny thought.
“Look, I have to go.” White stood, abandoning his bottle half-filled. “I know that this is frustrating. But it isn’t going to go on forever. There are ongoing operations to take down Wo Fat that you’re not privy to. Wo Fat’s going to make a mistake, and we’re going to catch him. But I’m not going to let it be at your expense, Steve.”
“Sir.” Steve rose to his feet, chair scraping behind him on the tiles. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Son.” White held out his hand. Soberly, Steve shook it. “Let me get up to speed. Read the reports coming in. I understand that you captured one of Wo Fat’s operatives: Jenna Kaye. We’ll get some valuable intel off her. We will find Wo Fat and take him into custody. Danny, nice to see you again.”
“Joe,” Danny returned, and nodded.
White marched out of the kitchen. The backpack on the coat hook swung to and fro in his wake.
“Weird,” Danny summarised into the quiet of the room.
“What?” Steve snapped.
“Okay, I’m confused,” Danny said, ignoring Steve’s tone with parental experience. “So when you go down to the base, you don’t tell everyone everything? White doesn’t know that we think that Wo Fat’s hanging around looking for something?”
“Lieutenant Commander White’s been ‘away’,” Steve said euphemistically. “I now report to Commander Archer. I submit full and detailed reports.”
“Which White hasn’t had a chance to read?” Danny guessed that the reports were very long; extremely detailed, each and every motive, inference, supposition, and interpretation meticulously rendered.
“I’m guessing that he returned today,” Steve said. “And that’s why he was rushing to the post office to post the birthday card.”
“White’s out of the loop, then?”
“Appears to be.”
“Or….” Danny said darkly.
“Or what?” Steve snatched up their half-filled bottles and dumped the contents of both in the sink. “Why don’t you trust Joe?”
“I don’t know, because I’ve met him?”
“He’s been good to me.” Steve rinsed the bottles and then lobbed them one after another accurately at the recycle bin. The shattering clash as they hit glass made Danny’s skin crawl. “If grandmother hadn’t been able to look after me and Mary, Joe White would have been our guardian.”
“He’s that close?”
“He’s been my mentor for years.” Steve wiped his hands on a dishtowel, and draped it precisely over the stove to dry.
Thinking hard, Danny moved over to the kitchen door, closing and locking it against the night. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, and turned to face Steve.
“Yes?” Steve said circumspectly, and remained where he was on the other side of the table -- out of reach.
“Your plan to make yourself bait is off the table. Okay?”
“It’s a good plan, Danny. Let’s get this over with!” Steve said intently.
“No.” Danny stabbed the air with a pointy finger. “You don’t have the support of your Navy people in this.”
“D--”
“Don’t you be thinking; hey, I’ll just take off and capture Wo Fat myself. The man is a terrorist, with an organisation that he commands. I don’t care if you’re the freakin’ Terminator, you can’t go up against a billion people.”
“Danny, aren’t you getting tired of this?”
Danny dropped back down on his heels. “Yes, but not at the expense of your life….”
“Danny.”
“No.” Danny pivoted around, backpack swinging. “Let’s get these slides mounted, and have a look at what we’ve got.”
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety one
Word count: ~2,500
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – patient and dedicated. I’m dedicating this chapter to you
And we’re back…. In celebration(?) commiseration at the end of season IV and months ahead of us before season V begins.
Last time on The co-operative:
￭ Steve decided to explore learning ASL;
￭ Danny thought that Steve learning ASL was a good thing;
￭ Rodney McKay made a tiny cameo appearance, so small no one noticed, and (importantly)
￭ Danny was über sneaky and stole the slides that he thought relevant to their
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Paulo’s on duty again.” Danny nodded at the man scowling at him from the front seat of the Kapu-owned Chevrolet Silverado.
Steve shot a glance across to the vehicle outside the House gates as he smoothly slowed to turn into the drive.
“I’d like to know what I did to make him look at me like dog dirt,” Danny continued.
“Dog dirt?” Steve grinned, as he turned through the opened wrought iron gates.
“I have a seven and a half year old,” Danny pointed out.
“Kavika doesn’t like you much. It’s probably transference.”
“Does Kavika like anyone?” Danny wondered. “He probably doesn’t like Paulo, ‘cause he never gives him time off. I think that’s unconstitutional.”
“I don’t think they have a union.”
The crunch of gravel under the truck’s wheels was strangely appropriate -- grind, grind, grind. Steve pulled into his preferred parking place beside the workshops, and yanked on the parking brake.
“How much trouble do you think we’re in?” Danny asked, checking his watch. It was well after eight o’clock.
“I guess it depends what Kono’s prepared.” Steve indicated with a flick of his fingers for Danny to walk ahead on the winding path leading to the kitchen’s welcoming lights.
“Yeah, right, Babe. It was your decision to go to the coffee meeting.” Danny dug his heels in, and bowed with a flourish, gesturing with an extravagant wave that Steve could go first.
Nose high, Steve stalked ahead, and Danny fell in behind. Steve would get the volcanic blast that was no doubt about to be levelled, and Danny got to admire his ass in the tight, black pants.
“Win. Win. Heh.” Danny said, as a disgruntled Steve contemplated the closed screen door.
Turning, Steve eyed him, and then taking a breath, he opened the kitchen door and stepped in. Chin, Malia, Mary, Kono and Toast stopped chatting. Silence, Danny thought, always a good sign -- not. He peered around Steve’s breadth.
“I texted,” Steve protested to the weighing jury. “It was… necessary.”
“Your dinner is in the dog,” Kono said.
“We don’t have a dog,” Danny protested. “Not even a house cat, which is all together strange.”
Kono pointed an emphatic trigger finger at him. Danny shut up.
“I slaved over a hot stove,” Kono said dramatically, hand planted over her heart.
“She did,” Toast added mock-sadly. “She wanted to make something special. On par with Chin’s amazing food.”
Chin elbowed Toast in the ribs, hard.
“I’m sorry, Kono.” Steve hung his head, hamming it up, shoulders slumping.
“What can we do to make it up to you?” Danny grinned, enjoying the show.
“Dishes,” Kono proclaimed, imperiously. “You can do the dishes.”
They were actually down to do the clean up, which Kono knew.
“Your wish is our command.” Danny sketched a bow.
“Eh?” Steve asked.
“Just go with it, Babe,” Danny said, and setting a hand on Steve’s ass he pushed him into the kitchen.
“What are we having?” Steve asked as he slid across the tiled floor.
Kono jerked her thumb at the oven. “Crab cakes with mango and rice salad.”
There was a large bowl on the table, which looked like it was filled with white rice dotted with colourful fragments of chopped fruit and vegetables, so Danny assumed that the crab cakes were in the oven keeping warm. He went to the oven to get the crab cakes as Steve hung his backpack on the coat hanger on the back of the kitchen door.
The crab cakes looked a little on the crispy side. “They smell awesome,” Danny said diplomatically. There were two large patties each.
Steve sat, grabbing their plates sitting over a warming candle tray on the table, and set them side by side. Reaching over the table, Danny slid a couple of cakes onto each of their plates using a cake slicer, because he couldn’t find anything else. The roasting pan and the cake slicer ended up in the sink, landing on top of a charred frying pan. Danny plonked down into his customary place.
“So what held you up? You know, since you’re pointedly not saying where you’ve been,” Mary asked, eyes narrowing.
Pausing as he dumped a mounded spoonful of rice onto Danny’s plate, Steve stared at his sister.
“And?” Mary leaned back in her chair, and looked down her nose at Steve.
Danny had seen that exact same expression on Steve’s mobile face. The same lift of the chin and contemplation of excrement through long lashes. It was either their mother’s or father’s inheritance, he figured.
“None of your business, Sis.” Steve bared his teeth.
“Jesus. It’s not a secret.” Danny elbowed him in his good side.
Steve pursed his lips at Danny, and Danny shrugged back at him, conveying: share with your family, goof ball.
“We went to an ASL meeting,” Steve grated. “And I wanted to replace Irene and Blair’s jogging stroller.”
“ASL?” Kono asked.
“American Sign Language,” Danny answered when Steve didn’t.
“Excellent,” Chin said, and then changed the subject with aplomb. “So what do you want to drink? We have a NV Louis Drescher Amor Cava or an Albariño, if you don’t like bubbles.”
“Ooh, bubbles.” Danny selected the thin-stemmed, narrow glass at his place setting, and held it towards Chin.
Seolh and food, and his tummy, it was a match made in heaven.
~*~
Danny admired Steve’s forearms as he scrubbed at the frying pan in the soapy water-filled sink.
“What?” Steve asked.
In answer, Danny leaned forwards and kissed the tip of Steve’s beaky nose. Steve scrunched it up, perplexed.
Chortling, Danny grabbed the damp cloth, which he had been after, and turned back to the kitchen table to wipe it clean. He corralled crumbs with the cloth and then ferried them over to shake them into the garbage can.
“Does the mango chilli chutney stuff go in the fridge or the cupboard?” Danny asked as he lobbed the cloth, with unerring accuracy, into the sink.
“What?” Steve asked, dodging out of the way of the cloth-missile as it splashed down.
Danny pointed to the homemade chutney on the counter beside Steve’s elbow, and then at the cupboard with the shelf dedicated to honeys, syrups of all types and condiments, including the dreaded Hersey’s chocolate syrup.
“Dunno,” Steve shrugged. “I’m guessing Kono’s mom made it. It won’t harm it to go in the fridge, will it?”
“Nah,” Danny judged.
“Very domestic,” a dry voice interrupted them.
Joe White was framed in the kitchen doorway regarding them as they cleaned.
“Hey, you came,” Steve smiled widely.
“Was there any doubt? I said that I would.”
“Something could have cropped up.” Steve dumped the frying pan on the draining board and dried his hands.
“I would have texted.” White stepped over the threshold, uninvited. So he wasn’t a vampire, Danny judged, possibly….
“Sir.” Steve came around the table and shook his hand.
“Hey, you want a beer or something?” Danny opened the fridge, put Kono’s mom’s chutney away and pulled out three long stem bottles of Pale Ale.
“Sure,” White drawled, as he sat at the long kitchen table.
“Steve?” Danny asked.
Steve nodded. He hadn’t partaken of the cava or the dry white wine at dinner so Danny actually doubted that he wanted a beer, but he wasn’t not going to indulge if White drank.
“Bottle opener?” Danny sat with a thump opposite White.
Both Steve and White presented him with Swiss Army knives.
“So well prepared.” Danny took the Swiss Army knife from Steve, as Steve came around the table and sat beside him.
“So what did you want to talk about, son, apart from accusing me deliberately of holding back information,” White sallied.
“Are you sure that you didn’t?” Steve riposted.
White splayed his hands. “You understand ‘classified’. And it was twenty years ago. I told you, your mom was just a low key, ‘friendly operative’ simply observing the Noshimuri family.”
“But it has to be relevant,” Steve protested.
“Really?” White shook his head. “You’ve been hunting the Hesse Brothers. You put a considerable dent in their organisation, son, with your relentless pursuit. Wo Fat is their boss. He’s been operating in the Islands for decades; a lot of his revenue is linked to and through Hawaii.”
Steve glanced fleetingly at Danny. “If you think it is just about me being a pain in the ass, why haven’t I just been taken out?”
“Lack of opportunity,” White said. “You are under surveillance. There’s a risk versus reward thing going on here. Son, you’re not going to be a SEAL again. What does killing you actually achieve?”
Ooh, Danny thought, go straight for the jugular.
“Okay, that kind of makes sense,” Danny said, giving Steve time to recover. “So why the shenanigans to search the House?”
“They wanted the camera, remember?” White said perplexed. “They didn’t want P-One’s, Wo Fat’s, identity known.”
“They tossed the House,” Steve clarified.
“Maybe they thought that you might have some paperwork lying around or something.” White took a slug of beer. “There’s valuable stuff lying around this walking garage sale.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose high.
“Okay, I’m missing something here,” White said. “Why do you think that Wo Fat’s interested in your mom’s work with the Noshimuri family?”
Danny put his foot on top of Steve’s.
“We’re just trying to figure out what’s what,” Danny said. “None of this makes sense, and it’s doubly creepy that the weirdest thing is that Wo Fat hasn’t just killed Steve. Do you think we want to spend the rest of our lives in protective custody?”
“We will catch him,” White said, “trust us. We will catch the son of a bitch.”
“So we’re also bait,” Danny said pithily.
Sighing, White slumped in his seat. “Yes,” he admitted. “The threat assessment level is low-to-medium, though. If he was going to do it, he would have done it already. But I’m not discounting that there’s a threat.”
“Well, why don’t we make him come to us?” Steve said straightening in his seat.
“Babe?” Danny jerked back in his seat, horrified.
“Pull back the guys camped out in the woods out back. Take away the surveillance truck parked on Kala Drive,” Steve said intently. “I’ll get Kavika to get the Kapu to stand down. Mamo doesn’t have to come around. Chin and Kono can stay at Malia’s place. I’ll give Toast airfare to visit his parents. Mary can stay with Mamo.”
“And Danny?” White asked.
“Mamo would be happy to have Danny stay with him.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Danny protested.
“That will leave you unprotected,” White said. “That’s not an option.”
“Too damn right,” Danny said.
“Danny, it’s the best plan yet,” Steve said, eyes bright. “I’m not talking about all of the protection, but pull back. Let Wo Fat come to us.”
White shook his head, slowly from side to side. “No. No.”
“Why not? I can look after myself.”
“I made a promise to your father and your mother, god rest their souls. I was there at your christening,” White said. “You’re injured. You’re not fit. You’re not there yet, Steve. I can’t countenance that approach. It’s suicide.”
Steve thumped his bottle of beer down hard, but he didn’t say a word.
White drew a hand over his lips and down his chin. He looked tired and old, Danny thought.
“Look, I have to go.” White stood, abandoning his bottle half-filled. “I know that this is frustrating. But it isn’t going to go on forever. There are ongoing operations to take down Wo Fat that you’re not privy to. Wo Fat’s going to make a mistake, and we’re going to catch him. But I’m not going to let it be at your expense, Steve.”
“Sir.” Steve rose to his feet, chair scraping behind him on the tiles. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Son.” White held out his hand. Soberly, Steve shook it. “Let me get up to speed. Read the reports coming in. I understand that you captured one of Wo Fat’s operatives: Jenna Kaye. We’ll get some valuable intel off her. We will find Wo Fat and take him into custody. Danny, nice to see you again.”
“Joe,” Danny returned, and nodded.
White marched out of the kitchen. The backpack on the coat hook swung to and fro in his wake.
“Weird,” Danny summarised into the quiet of the room.
“What?” Steve snapped.
“Okay, I’m confused,” Danny said, ignoring Steve’s tone with parental experience. “So when you go down to the base, you don’t tell everyone everything? White doesn’t know that we think that Wo Fat’s hanging around looking for something?”
“Lieutenant Commander White’s been ‘away’,” Steve said euphemistically. “I now report to Commander Archer. I submit full and detailed reports.”
“Which White hasn’t had a chance to read?” Danny guessed that the reports were very long; extremely detailed, each and every motive, inference, supposition, and interpretation meticulously rendered.
“I’m guessing that he returned today,” Steve said. “And that’s why he was rushing to the post office to post the birthday card.”
“White’s out of the loop, then?”
“Appears to be.”
“Or….” Danny said darkly.
“Or what?” Steve snatched up their half-filled bottles and dumped the contents of both in the sink. “Why don’t you trust Joe?”
“I don’t know, because I’ve met him?”
“He’s been good to me.” Steve rinsed the bottles and then lobbed them one after another accurately at the recycle bin. The shattering clash as they hit glass made Danny’s skin crawl. “If grandmother hadn’t been able to look after me and Mary, Joe White would have been our guardian.”
“He’s that close?”
“He’s been my mentor for years.” Steve wiped his hands on a dishtowel, and draped it precisely over the stove to dry.
Thinking hard, Danny moved over to the kitchen door, closing and locking it against the night. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, and turned to face Steve.
“Yes?” Steve said circumspectly, and remained where he was on the other side of the table -- out of reach.
“Your plan to make yourself bait is off the table. Okay?”
“It’s a good plan, Danny. Let’s get this over with!” Steve said intently.
“No.” Danny stabbed the air with a pointy finger. “You don’t have the support of your Navy people in this.”
“D--”
“Don’t you be thinking; hey, I’ll just take off and capture Wo Fat myself. The man is a terrorist, with an organisation that he commands. I don’t care if you’re the freakin’ Terminator, you can’t go up against a billion people.”
“Danny, aren’t you getting tired of this?”
Danny dropped back down on his heels. “Yes, but not at the expense of your life….”
“Danny.”
“No.” Danny pivoted around, backpack swinging. “Let’s get these slides mounted, and have a look at what we’ve got.”
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety one
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no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 02:28 pm (UTC)That aside, I'm with Danny in not trusting Joe. He doesn't know the man and he may have Steve's best interest in mind, but where does that leave everyone else? Also, Joe could be banking on Steve's loyalty to family and the Navy that will have him following orders and staying out. Let's see how well Danny can get Steve to do that.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 08:26 pm (UTC)And trusting Joe. Hard to do. Yep. So very hard to do.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 08:31 pm (UTC)thanks for commenting on the fic, I appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-11 11:54 am (UTC)Love how Steve braced himself for the wrath of Kono re:missed dinner. :D
Oh, Steve, offering youself up as bait? I'm just glad that Joe said no and that Danny is trying to get your mind away from there.
Thank you! :)
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 06:21 am (UTC)Steve as bait just had to happen. I mean, it's Steeeeeve
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Date: 2014-05-11 09:24 pm (UTC)Despite Steve's loyalty I do't trust Joe, but at least Joe and Danny were united in scraping the idea of Steve using himself as bait. I could so totally get Steve feeling sick of his life on hold because of Wo Fat --still begs the question why Wo Fat has left him alive to begin with.
So happy to see this up again!!
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 06:24 am (UTC)Yes, Steve.... Steve. Steve. Steve. But I don't think it is a good idea, the question is... what will Steve do?
no subject
Date: 2014-05-13 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 06:24 am (UTC)