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Hawaii 5-0 fic: The Co-operative Season Two – 113
Rating: Slash
Word count: ~4, 000
Warning: skip Danny’s having issues. He's human.
Advisory: potty mouth; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof, thank you very, very much.
Last time on The Co-operative:
Wo Fat was captured;
Steve proved to have learned sneaky at his mom’s knee;
Our battered and bruised boys finally made it back home to their ‘ohana, and,
Danny realised that he was possibly just a little stressed by the whole fiasco.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
It was an awful sleep, an intermittent attempt at sleeping, the sort of sleep that tasted of dried hair in your mouth, but Danny opened his eyes to the swath of dark blue curtains and realised that, at some point, he had succumbed to the Sandman.
He was alone in the bed. All the curtains were pulled, including the one overlooking the Pacific that Steve habitually left open. Steve had created the dark cave that he avoided, and Danny preferred. A light wind wafted the curtain.
Danny contemplated the now-turning fan on the ceiling. He didn’t want to move -- movement promised pain. Danny wasn’t a great fan of pain. His stomach grumbled. He needed breakfast. Most importantly, he needed a vat of coffee.
Reluctantly, Danny rolled out of the bed, cradling his arm against his chest. The doctor at Tripler with the fetching bandana had offered Danny a sling, for the wound that Steve insisted was only a scratch, but it had seemed overly dramatic.
Danny moved deliberately; stretching, shifting, and wincing, fractionally. He worked to wake up and warm up strained and bruised muscles. The keen of the burn promised that, probably, Tylenol and coffee would get him on a more even keel.
Grumbling, Danny padded down the spiral staircase to cadge yet another pair of shorts and t-shirt from Steve’s drawers. Danny, deliberately, did not choose anything with a Navy bent. His hair was a nightmare, practically standing on end. But the siren scent of coffee drew him all the way to the House kitchen.
“Bam!”
Danny came to a complete halt before a plump, brown haired, brown eyed toddler, maybe three – three and a half, wielding a wooden spoon as he guarded the kitchen doorway.
“Hey,” he greeted. The little boy was a new face.
“Haulani, let Danny in,” Steve said, from out of sight.
The kid glared at Danny suspiciously.
Danny could have easily just stepped over Haulani, but he waited patiently, resisting the temptation to crouch down and tickle his fat little tummy poking between his sky blue t-shirt and bulky diaper.
Desultorily, Haulani clipped Danny’s knee with his spoon, and then toddler-wobbled back into the kitchen, scurrying around the fridge-freezer.
“Hey,” Danny greeted Steve. “Oh, Little Dee.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Steve had the smallest member of their ‘Ohana cradled in the crook of his forearm as he held a bottle to Little Daniel’s mouth.
“Morning. Afternoon, Danny.” Steve stretched his neck, lips pursed, duck-like.
Danny contemplated the picture, and then smacked a closed-mouth kiss on the idiot’s lips because there were kids in the room.
“Afternoon?” Danny glanced at the wall clock and it was almost twelve thirty, so accurately afternoon. “You been awake long?”
Steve was dressed in his normal fashion of cargo shorts, but he wore a collarless, button-up white shirt instead of a t-shirt. Easier to get on, if you were bruised from head to toe. He had a faint brush of bruising around his left eye -- a purely spectacular black eye hadn’t developed.
Haulani ran past Danny on his third or fourth loop of the kitchen table.
“Couple of hours,” Steve judged. He was focused on the bandage poking out of Danny’s t-shirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Tylenol,” Danny said succinctly.
“Top of the fridge.” Steve said.
There was a little canister in the bowl where Steve stowed his aids when he went swimming. Tylenol wasn’t normally rolling around the bottom of the bowl.
“I brought it down so I could have a couple with my oatmeal, and then when Nani came by, I put them up there, out of Haulani’s reach.”
Toddlers were usually surprisingly mobile and scarily capable of climbing, but the top of the fridge was almost out of Danny’s reach. It was typical of Steve’s careful over-the-top attention to detail.
“I thought that the doc gave you some good painkillers?” Danny said as he popped the cap and decanted two into the palm of his hand.
“I can mix and match: high-strength ibuprofen, then a couple of hours later, Tylenol.”
Danny hated that Steve knew this stuff, intimately.
“How are you feeling?” There was a carafe of perking coffee on the counter. That was a little unusual -- they normally used the French press or the old espresso machine, sticking with small, freshly-prepped doses. A streak of missed dust marred the housing, so it had been unearthed from somewhere in the bowels of the House. The pot was just about filled with a final drop about to drip from the mechanism. A second, filled pot sat on the top hot plate keeping warm. Danny helped himself to the newly perked coffee. The final drop sizzled against the hot plate.
Steve was watching him, eyes hooded under the brazenly white band-aid on his forehead.
“How are you feeling?” Danny asked again, making sure that he turned to face him.
Steve absorbed the question, and then shrugged, which prompted Little Dee to lose his hold on the bottle nipple, and immediately protest.
“Sorry.” Steve joggled the baby. A milk bubble blossomed on Dee’s lips, popped and then dribbled down his cheek into his fat, little jowls. He mewled.
“Here.” Danny retrieved a cloth from the baby provisions set helpfully at Steve’s elbow and draped it over Steve’s shoulder. “Better burp him before giving him the rest of the bottle. He definitely swallowed some air there.”
“Nani!” Haulani was at Steve’s hip, glowering.
“It’s okay. Danny’s here to help now. Danny’s got a little girl, he knows babies,” Steve soothed the toddler. He deftly set Dee over his shoulder and delicately patted his back with two, extended fingers.
“Mmmmm,” Haulani grumbled distrustfully, and narrow-eyed, gave Danny a frankly assessing stare.
“Honestly, my credentials are impeccable,” Danny said to a three year old, because he felt wanting under the toddler’s scrutiny.
“Haulani’s pretty much decided that Little Dee is his,” Steve said trying to intentionally lower his volume. “He’s very protective, and, well, it’s good for him to… come out of his shell.”
“Nani’s also fostering Haulani?” Danny stroked Dee’s cheek with a finger, as he smiled down at the baby’s little protector.
“About a year now.” Steve craned his head trying to see if Little Dee had burped up anything.
He might not be able to hear a tiny baby burp, Danny realised.
“Pat him a little harder.” Danny demonstrated a hollow pat against his own chest.
Steve’s overly careful pats with two fingers weren’t going to disturb any trapped burp. Gingerly, Steve tapped maybe a drop harder.
“Babe, he’s not indestructible, but, you know, he’s not breakable.”
Little Dee had put on a few pounds in the past few months, but he was still dwarfed in the shadow of Steve’s paw spanning the breath of his back. Steve held him with such care.
“Here like this.” Danny patted Little Dee’s delicate back with just the right pressure. The burp was impressive. Steve would have heard that belch.
“Good!” Haulani summarised.
“Thank you,” Danny returned seriously.
With the utmost concentration, Steve manoeuvred Dee back into the cradle of his hold, and set the bottle back to his lips. Dee latched on immediately, sucking vigorously.
Haulani continued to scrutinise, judging them. He still held his spoon ready.
“Everything is good.” Danny nodded, backing up his words.
Danny took that Haulani started running around the kitchen table as a good sign.
“You want a coffee?” Danny asked Steve.
“Sure.”
“I thought--” Danny got a second coffee, doctored it, and sat beside Steve. He threw two Tylenol in his mouth and washed them down with a mouthful of his own coffee. “Uhm, what’s the story with Haulani? Is he Dee’s brother?”
“Nani’s fostering them both.”
“So they’re not related?”
“Found Family,” Steve said.
“But Nani adopts short term?” Danny absorbed that, thinking on Haulani and Little Dee, separated.
“Yeah.” Steve cocked his head to the side. Clutching the doorframe, Haulani stood on the kitchen back step watching the big scary world outside the safety of the kitchen. “Haulani has been with Nani a few times the last year or so. Yeah, uhm, that’s Nani and Haulani’s story. I think that Nani’s now thinking about long term fostering or adopting, and Nani is Haulani’s constant.”
Danny sometimes forgot that Seolh existed before he had found the Co-operative. He could easily imagine Mamo writing voluminous letters to Steve deployed overseas of all the ins and outs of their extended family. Steve would have gobbled them up.
“Haulani’s latched onto Dee, and,” Steve continued, rubbing a circle on Dee’s tummy with his forefinger, “Dee’s complicated. His mom doesn’t want him; can’t cope.”
Haulani was back at Danny’s side watching him warily. In a fight, Danny figured that Haulani would probably win.
“How come we’re babysitting?” Danny asked. The family knew that they were battered and bruised. Babysitting didn’t seem to be a good plan, but holding Little Dee did keep Steve sitting quietly.
“We’re babysitting?” Steve said pointedly.
“Hey, you’ve already needed my advice and guidance.”
“Nani came by, and Mrs. Keawe was going to look after Haulani and Daniel. But they ended up going into town together. Mamo volunteered, but then a client came around. And voila.” Steve plucked the empty bottle away from Dee’s determined sucking and set it aside. “Do I give him more? He finished that really quickly.”
“See, advice and guidance? Invaluable. I’m making toast. You want?” Danny stood.
“No, I want advice and guidance.”
“Burp him, first. If he falls asleep, then you don’t need to feed him.”
“Okay.” Concentrating hard enough to defuse a nuclear bomb, Steve resituated Dee, little chin hooked over his shoulder, and patted, gently but firmly.
Dee deposited a nice, chewy mouthful on Steve’s shoulder.
“Awesome.” Steve scrunched his nose.
“It was caught by the cloth.” Danny captured the edges of the burp cloth and scooped up the contents and wiped Dee’s mouth in the same motion. Professional. He then lobbed the cloth into the sink.
Dee blinked at him sleepily, and did that baby-thing: falling asleep between one breath and the next.
“Stay still, Steve, he’s out.”
“O-kay.” Steve froze.
“Just let him go deep and then we can put him down in his cot. Nani brought a carrier or something?”
“It’s in the rec-room.”
Danny hauled open the fridge and stared. Milk and more milk cartons, juices and smoothies, and three of Mrs. Keawe’s cakes. The three tier affair with the scarlet red strawberries perched on top of swirls of cream would be a lot tastier than toast for breakfast. Or maybe the lemon meringue pie with a perfectly smooth lake of lemon jelly? Danny kind of needed to stick his finger in that faultless surface.
“Are we having a party?” Danny asked.
“Huh?”
“Cakes?” Still holding the fridge door, Danny leaned back to better see Steve. “Lots of cakes. Big cakes.”
“They’re for the kids.”
“Dee’s too small. And, well, he’d explode.”
“The workers. The workers repairing the Hall.”
“Huh! I totally forgot.” The students from the Technical College. Seolh was evidently paying them in cake.
The mundanity of life. Amidst all the shenanigans, the Hall was still being repaired, Mrs. Keawe was happily spoiling them all, and Danny was having cake for breakfast.
“It would really be brunch,” Danny pointed out.
The non sequitur threw Steve. Perplexed, he watched Danny ferry the lemon meringue and bowl to the table.
“Lemon’s a fruit, that’s healthy.” Danny moved to root through the drawers for a cake slicer and spoon.
“You okay, Danny?” Steve asked. He turned in his seat, Little Dee cradled against his chest.
“Sure.” Danny brandished the cake slicer. “So who’s around for lunch? We probably should be thinking about setting the kitchen table.”
“Toast’s at college. I think that Mary went with Nani and Mrs. Keawe. She yelled something from the hallway and a door slammed.” Steve’s expression darkened fractionally. Danny could easily guess that he did not appreciate Mary not telling him of her plans face-to-face. Given recent events they didn’t need the buddy system anymore?
“Chin? Malia?” Danny took his customary seat beside Steve, and helped himself to a generous portion of pie.
“Malia’s at work. Chin is meeting her for lunch.”
“So you, me and Mamo, maybe Kono? And a horde of kids in the Hall?” Danny mapped the expanse of the large kitchen table with a swirling gesture.
“Mrs. Keawe put together trays of sandwiches for the students and the teachers. They’re in the cold pantry.”
“Ah! The coffee.” Danny pointed at the two carafes of coffee with his spoon. “They’re for the workers.”
“Pie.” Haulani’s beady little eyes were bright. He brandished his wooden spoon at Danny’s side. Without prompting, he grabbed the fabric of Danny’s shorts and hauled himself onto Danny’s lap and the immediate vicinity of the meringue.
“Oh, now I’m your friend.” Danny held Haulani carefully with his sore arm around his tummy. “Okay.”
Haulani wriggled in, getting comfortable. Fascinated by the hirsute swath of pale golden hairs on Danny’s arm, he stroked against the grain ruffling them up, then smoothing them back down, and then again. He fingered a light brown freckle on Danny’s forearm, matching the colour to his own splayed hand.
Danny let him explore, and got a good mouthful of meringue. Pie was significantly more interesting than fluffing up hair and Haulani peered up at Danny expectantly. Obediently, Danny fed the little boy a teaspoon full of pie.
Steve smiled at them as Danny alternated between feeding himself and Haulani tiny mouthfuls of lemony goodness. Haulani beat out a happy rhythm with his wooden spoon on the table.
“Okay, gonna put Dee down.” Steve stood with the care of a geriatric sufferer of arthritis.
Danny watched his walk, wincing in sympathy. Steve was only human, he wasn’t a superman; he was bruised and sore after his run in with Wo Fat.
“Peese?” Haulani interrupted Danny’s thoughts.
“Sorry.” Danny gave him another thumbnail-sized piece of pie.
Grace could visit this weekend, he thought, contemplating the weight of the toddler on his lap. It was over, wasn’t it? There should be no repercussions, because Wo Fat, apparently, hadn’t told anyone what he was up to in his clandestine attempts to retrieve his treasures. An anxious, cold weight congealed in Danny’s gut.
“It’s over, kiddo,” Danny said to Haulani.
“Pie.”
“Well, you’ve got your priorities straight.” He couldn’t help himself, he hugged the kid. Haulani chortled, his voice very deep for a toddler.
“Keiki.” Mamo’s bulk blocked out the light from the kitchen doorway.
“Hey, Mamo.” Danny greeted the family patriarch.
“How are you feeling, son?” Mamo tromped around the kitchen table going for the coffee maker. There wasn’t going to be any left for the kids.
“Okay,” Danny said automatically.
“Stevie said you got shot?” Mamo stopped and looked straight at the bandage poking out from Danny’s t-shirt sleeve.
“Apparently, it’s just a scratch,” Danny said waspishly.
“Hmmm.” Mamo helped himself to a small cup. “I think that a scratch just needs some Neosporin?”
“You tell Steve that.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Danny echoed.
“I don’t pretend to understand a lot that goes on in Steve’s head, but training as a SEAL taught him some things that I wish that he hadn’t learnt.”
“You’re not kidding,” Danny said lowly.
“Kaniela?”
“Nothing.” Danny focused on sharing his pie with Haulani.
Mamo sat directly opposite Danny across the dark wood table. His large hands dwarfed his coffee cup.
“Danny.”
“Mamo,” Danny returned.
“Talk to me, keiki.”
Mamo’s careworn face promised understanding and empathy. It was impossible to resist.
“I don’t know where to start, Mamo. It’s been insane for so long. And--” Danny deflated. The whirlwind of his thoughts encompassed: the House; firebombing; photographs; mysteries; ‘ohana; shootings; terrorists; Seolh; fear; terror; lemon meringue pie, and Steve.
“Are you okay?” Mamo persisted.
“Yeah.”
“Keiki,” Mamo’s tone dropped more than a couple of scales.
“Fuck, Mamo. Sorry.” One-handed, he tried to cover both of Haulani’s ears. “My head’s just—I…. Mamo, we were taken. They were going to sell Steve, because of what he knows, and who he is. I was collateral. It wasn’t like watching television or the movies. It was terrifying.”
Danny didn’t say anymore because Haulani had turned on his lap and was regarding him, with his little brow furrowed with concern.
“It’s okay.” Danny kissed Haulani’s forehead.
“They were going to sell Steve like a slave?” Mamo whispered, horrified.
Danny nodded.
“What…. What about you? Collateral? What does that mean?”
“They used me to control Steve. It didn’t work. He was resourceful.” The image of Steve wringing that man’s neck blanked out everything else before him. The stench Danny belatedly realised had been the guy, his bowels voiding as he sagged into death’s grasp. A voice was speaking.
“Keiki. Danny?” Mamo was talking.
Danny took a fortifying slug of coffee.
“You’re safe now, Danny. You’re home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, Daniel,” Mamo used his given name, “Home.”
Danny nodded. “It was just....”
“You’re safe,” Mamo repeated. He echoed Danny’s earlier thoughts. “It’s over.”
He stood and came around the table to swoop arms around both Danny and Haulani. A kiss brushed Danny’s hair. Danny sighed. He was an adult not a kid, he didn’t need to be cosseted like a child.
“Thanks, Mamo.” He patted a sturdy arm, wrought with muscles from years of planing wood.
“A`ole pilikia.” Mamo kissed the top of his head again. “We need to get the family around -- make sure that you remember that you have an ‘ohana.”
“A family gathering is your answer to everything, isn’t it?” Danny said a little meanly. It was also his mother’s answer to everything. Danny was programmed to acquiesce.
“Come, I know that you are hurt, but you can help me take the coffee to the workers, yes?”
“Help. Help!” Haulani wriggled off Danny’s lap.
~*~
Carrying one of the coffee pots, Danny wrangled the toddler like a soccer ball along the corridor. Steve hadn’t reappeared. Danny suspected diaper duty, and decided not to investigate. The expanse of the long reception rooms’ corridor proved irresistible to Haulani. The kid broke away from Danny, sirening at the top of his lungs. Exuberant chortles bounced off the walls; the kid had some energy.
“Stop at the door, Haulani,” Danny called. There were likely heavy tools being used in the Hall on the other side.
Haulani stopped, a good little boy, waiting patiently. Danny had called it correctly; the Hall was a hive of activity. Oh boy, the students had been busy. The replacement wood panelling on the far wall was almost completed. Danny didn’t spot Addison, but there were a couple of older guys, sharing the blunt curve of a square jaw and similarly dark curly hair shot with grey -- brothers, Danny guessed -- overseeing the kids. Mamo had said that he knew a couple of guys that could act as foremen. No doubt they were cousins of some degree to Mamo and Maru.
The elaborate dance floor was pretty much the same as the last time -- a gaping fire-marred insult. So Uluwehi hadn’t started his reconstruction.
“Hey.” One of the kids, a gangly girl with long limbs giving her a stork-like quality, came over. Hands on knees, she stooped over Haulani. “Hey, kiddo, you stay over by your--”
“Babysitter,” Danny supplied. “Uncle Danny.”
“Uncle Danny?” Haulani questioned. He digested that, and then offered, “Daniel.”
“Big D.” Danny put his hand on his head, and then pretended to rock a baby. “Little Dee.”
“My baby!” Haulani got that point over with every iota of his being.
“Sure,” Danny agreed. Charge reassured, he offered the carafe of coffee to the student. “We’re ferrying the food over. Where do you want to eat, though?”
“We normally go out through the doors and sit outside on the steps. It’s too nice to be in the House. I’m surprised that this place doesn’t have deckchairs and stuff.”
“Oh, there are some around. We have barbeques on the beach. There’s even a pavilion, somewhere.”
“Cool. It must be great living and working here.”
Working? Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a photograph.
“So more food?” Danny jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the kitchen and the cold pantry. “You want to collar some troops, and we’ll carry the sandwiches and cakes through?”
“Sure. Has Mrs. K made cakes?”
“Chocolate thing, lemon meringue and a strawberry cream cake.”
“Awesome.”
~*~
Once the troops were fed, or more accurately eating and lazing on the Hall steps leading to the gardens and Mamo was looking after the toddler, Danny went hunting Wabbits, Elmer Fudd style. He, himself, had had a couple of fortifying sandwiches. Cake was all well and good for brunch, but a man needed a tasty ham sandwich with cheese and tomato after a hard day.
The rabbit in question was conspicuous by his absence. Steve had, however, been in charge of Little Dee, so where the baby slept, Steve was probably close. As hunting expeditions went it was as straightforward as a ruler.
Steve had lain down on the large living room sofa. Sleeping was inevitable. If the man was prone or supine, the man slept. The difference was, this time, Little Dee was fast asleep on the centre of his chest, tucked in a comfortable little ball. He had nuzzled through Steve’s shirt buttons, and his little face was snuffled up against Steve’s sparse chest hair.
Now that was a photograph.
So, of course, Danny went to get his camera from his studio. His old faithful Canon was where he had left it, on the ridiculously ornate escritoire repurposed from one of the reception rooms to be a camera table. He grabbed the Canon and the Nikon confiscated from the governor’s paparazzi.
The Canon, as he suspected, was almost out of charge. Steve slept through Danny setting up the shot. But Danny saw his nostrils flare and settle.
It was like a drug, taking photographs. Danny sometimes forgot everything around him other than the photograph. As settings went, it was kind of trite, but undeniably attractive, even if Steve did have a colossal bandage on his forehead.
I’ll process these in black and white, Danny decided, scrutinising the LCD screen.
He crouched, forgetting his arm, forgetting everything, to capture the rounded curve of Little Dee’s cheek smushed against Steve’s chest hair. The clean line of Steve’s jaw, and his scrupulously straight nose cornered the shot.
Steve was watching him, under hooded lids.
“Hey,” Danny said to that sleepy face.
“Whatcha doing?”
Danny held up the camera in response.
“Sure,” Steve said, shrugging wryly. He cupped a hand around Dee’s diapered butt, securing him.
“You know, you shouldn’t sleep like that. If you roll over you could smother Dee in your sleep.”
Steve regarded him, dubiously. Danny leaned over slightly to check that his aids were plugged in his ears.
“Let me put him in his carrier.” Danny set his camera down by the dark blue capsule on the coffee table, and reached for the baby.
Steve lay perfectly still, as Danny scooped up Dee’s pocket-full of weight. The puff of talc and sweetness of aloe vera wipes made him think of Grace so many years ago. So vulnerable, so small. Danny held Dee a little closer. Danny didn’t know the problems that Dee faced, the stuff going on that needed surgery or what had happened with his birth mother, but he knew that he was going to have a family who would help him.
“You okay, Danny?” Steve asked.
“You should never sleep with a baby like that,” Danny said, cantankerously. Angry, but not too sure with whom he was angry, Danny focussed on tucking Dee safely in his baby carrier.
Finally, he turned back to Steve, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“My situational awareness is top notch. I was not going to smother Dee,” Steve said.
“A minute’s inattention and it could happen,” Danny said flatly.
Steve’s measured gaze scrutinized him. Danny met the weight of his cool consideration. Chillingly, Danny was reminded that Steve was a very intelligent, experienced, highly trained predator.
“What?” Danny finally snapped.
“Don’t you trust me, Danny?” Steve asked.
~*~
Tbc
Part one hundred and fourteen
Word count: ~4, 000
Warning: skip Danny’s having issues. He's human.
Advisory: potty mouth; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof, thank you very, very much.
Last time on The Co-operative:
Wo Fat was captured;
Steve proved to have learned sneaky at his mom’s knee;
Our battered and bruised boys finally made it back home to their ‘ohana, and,
Danny realised that he was possibly just a little stressed by the whole fiasco.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
It was an awful sleep, an intermittent attempt at sleeping, the sort of sleep that tasted of dried hair in your mouth, but Danny opened his eyes to the swath of dark blue curtains and realised that, at some point, he had succumbed to the Sandman.
He was alone in the bed. All the curtains were pulled, including the one overlooking the Pacific that Steve habitually left open. Steve had created the dark cave that he avoided, and Danny preferred. A light wind wafted the curtain.
Danny contemplated the now-turning fan on the ceiling. He didn’t want to move -- movement promised pain. Danny wasn’t a great fan of pain. His stomach grumbled. He needed breakfast. Most importantly, he needed a vat of coffee.
Reluctantly, Danny rolled out of the bed, cradling his arm against his chest. The doctor at Tripler with the fetching bandana had offered Danny a sling, for the wound that Steve insisted was only a scratch, but it had seemed overly dramatic.
Danny moved deliberately; stretching, shifting, and wincing, fractionally. He worked to wake up and warm up strained and bruised muscles. The keen of the burn promised that, probably, Tylenol and coffee would get him on a more even keel.
Grumbling, Danny padded down the spiral staircase to cadge yet another pair of shorts and t-shirt from Steve’s drawers. Danny, deliberately, did not choose anything with a Navy bent. His hair was a nightmare, practically standing on end. But the siren scent of coffee drew him all the way to the House kitchen.
“Bam!”
Danny came to a complete halt before a plump, brown haired, brown eyed toddler, maybe three – three and a half, wielding a wooden spoon as he guarded the kitchen doorway.
“Hey,” he greeted. The little boy was a new face.
“Haulani, let Danny in,” Steve said, from out of sight.
The kid glared at Danny suspiciously.
Danny could have easily just stepped over Haulani, but he waited patiently, resisting the temptation to crouch down and tickle his fat little tummy poking between his sky blue t-shirt and bulky diaper.
Desultorily, Haulani clipped Danny’s knee with his spoon, and then toddler-wobbled back into the kitchen, scurrying around the fridge-freezer.
“Hey,” Danny greeted Steve. “Oh, Little Dee.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Steve had the smallest member of their ‘Ohana cradled in the crook of his forearm as he held a bottle to Little Daniel’s mouth.
“Morning. Afternoon, Danny.” Steve stretched his neck, lips pursed, duck-like.
Danny contemplated the picture, and then smacked a closed-mouth kiss on the idiot’s lips because there were kids in the room.
“Afternoon?” Danny glanced at the wall clock and it was almost twelve thirty, so accurately afternoon. “You been awake long?”
Steve was dressed in his normal fashion of cargo shorts, but he wore a collarless, button-up white shirt instead of a t-shirt. Easier to get on, if you were bruised from head to toe. He had a faint brush of bruising around his left eye -- a purely spectacular black eye hadn’t developed.
Haulani ran past Danny on his third or fourth loop of the kitchen table.
“Couple of hours,” Steve judged. He was focused on the bandage poking out of Danny’s t-shirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Tylenol,” Danny said succinctly.
“Top of the fridge.” Steve said.
There was a little canister in the bowl where Steve stowed his aids when he went swimming. Tylenol wasn’t normally rolling around the bottom of the bowl.
“I brought it down so I could have a couple with my oatmeal, and then when Nani came by, I put them up there, out of Haulani’s reach.”
Toddlers were usually surprisingly mobile and scarily capable of climbing, but the top of the fridge was almost out of Danny’s reach. It was typical of Steve’s careful over-the-top attention to detail.
“I thought that the doc gave you some good painkillers?” Danny said as he popped the cap and decanted two into the palm of his hand.
“I can mix and match: high-strength ibuprofen, then a couple of hours later, Tylenol.”
Danny hated that Steve knew this stuff, intimately.
“How are you feeling?” There was a carafe of perking coffee on the counter. That was a little unusual -- they normally used the French press or the old espresso machine, sticking with small, freshly-prepped doses. A streak of missed dust marred the housing, so it had been unearthed from somewhere in the bowels of the House. The pot was just about filled with a final drop about to drip from the mechanism. A second, filled pot sat on the top hot plate keeping warm. Danny helped himself to the newly perked coffee. The final drop sizzled against the hot plate.
Steve was watching him, eyes hooded under the brazenly white band-aid on his forehead.
“How are you feeling?” Danny asked again, making sure that he turned to face him.
Steve absorbed the question, and then shrugged, which prompted Little Dee to lose his hold on the bottle nipple, and immediately protest.
“Sorry.” Steve joggled the baby. A milk bubble blossomed on Dee’s lips, popped and then dribbled down his cheek into his fat, little jowls. He mewled.
“Here.” Danny retrieved a cloth from the baby provisions set helpfully at Steve’s elbow and draped it over Steve’s shoulder. “Better burp him before giving him the rest of the bottle. He definitely swallowed some air there.”
“Nani!” Haulani was at Steve’s hip, glowering.
“It’s okay. Danny’s here to help now. Danny’s got a little girl, he knows babies,” Steve soothed the toddler. He deftly set Dee over his shoulder and delicately patted his back with two, extended fingers.
“Mmmmm,” Haulani grumbled distrustfully, and narrow-eyed, gave Danny a frankly assessing stare.
“Honestly, my credentials are impeccable,” Danny said to a three year old, because he felt wanting under the toddler’s scrutiny.
“Haulani’s pretty much decided that Little Dee is his,” Steve said trying to intentionally lower his volume. “He’s very protective, and, well, it’s good for him to… come out of his shell.”
“Nani’s also fostering Haulani?” Danny stroked Dee’s cheek with a finger, as he smiled down at the baby’s little protector.
“About a year now.” Steve craned his head trying to see if Little Dee had burped up anything.
He might not be able to hear a tiny baby burp, Danny realised.
“Pat him a little harder.” Danny demonstrated a hollow pat against his own chest.
Steve’s overly careful pats with two fingers weren’t going to disturb any trapped burp. Gingerly, Steve tapped maybe a drop harder.
“Babe, he’s not indestructible, but, you know, he’s not breakable.”
Little Dee had put on a few pounds in the past few months, but he was still dwarfed in the shadow of Steve’s paw spanning the breath of his back. Steve held him with such care.
“Here like this.” Danny patted Little Dee’s delicate back with just the right pressure. The burp was impressive. Steve would have heard that belch.
“Good!” Haulani summarised.
“Thank you,” Danny returned seriously.
With the utmost concentration, Steve manoeuvred Dee back into the cradle of his hold, and set the bottle back to his lips. Dee latched on immediately, sucking vigorously.
Haulani continued to scrutinise, judging them. He still held his spoon ready.
“Everything is good.” Danny nodded, backing up his words.
Danny took that Haulani started running around the kitchen table as a good sign.
“You want a coffee?” Danny asked Steve.
“Sure.”
“I thought--” Danny got a second coffee, doctored it, and sat beside Steve. He threw two Tylenol in his mouth and washed them down with a mouthful of his own coffee. “Uhm, what’s the story with Haulani? Is he Dee’s brother?”
“Nani’s fostering them both.”
“So they’re not related?”
“Found Family,” Steve said.
“But Nani adopts short term?” Danny absorbed that, thinking on Haulani and Little Dee, separated.
“Yeah.” Steve cocked his head to the side. Clutching the doorframe, Haulani stood on the kitchen back step watching the big scary world outside the safety of the kitchen. “Haulani has been with Nani a few times the last year or so. Yeah, uhm, that’s Nani and Haulani’s story. I think that Nani’s now thinking about long term fostering or adopting, and Nani is Haulani’s constant.”
Danny sometimes forgot that Seolh existed before he had found the Co-operative. He could easily imagine Mamo writing voluminous letters to Steve deployed overseas of all the ins and outs of their extended family. Steve would have gobbled them up.
“Haulani’s latched onto Dee, and,” Steve continued, rubbing a circle on Dee’s tummy with his forefinger, “Dee’s complicated. His mom doesn’t want him; can’t cope.”
Haulani was back at Danny’s side watching him warily. In a fight, Danny figured that Haulani would probably win.
“How come we’re babysitting?” Danny asked. The family knew that they were battered and bruised. Babysitting didn’t seem to be a good plan, but holding Little Dee did keep Steve sitting quietly.
“We’re babysitting?” Steve said pointedly.
“Hey, you’ve already needed my advice and guidance.”
“Nani came by, and Mrs. Keawe was going to look after Haulani and Daniel. But they ended up going into town together. Mamo volunteered, but then a client came around. And voila.” Steve plucked the empty bottle away from Dee’s determined sucking and set it aside. “Do I give him more? He finished that really quickly.”
“See, advice and guidance? Invaluable. I’m making toast. You want?” Danny stood.
“No, I want advice and guidance.”
“Burp him, first. If he falls asleep, then you don’t need to feed him.”
“Okay.” Concentrating hard enough to defuse a nuclear bomb, Steve resituated Dee, little chin hooked over his shoulder, and patted, gently but firmly.
Dee deposited a nice, chewy mouthful on Steve’s shoulder.
“Awesome.” Steve scrunched his nose.
“It was caught by the cloth.” Danny captured the edges of the burp cloth and scooped up the contents and wiped Dee’s mouth in the same motion. Professional. He then lobbed the cloth into the sink.
Dee blinked at him sleepily, and did that baby-thing: falling asleep between one breath and the next.
“Stay still, Steve, he’s out.”
“O-kay.” Steve froze.
“Just let him go deep and then we can put him down in his cot. Nani brought a carrier or something?”
“It’s in the rec-room.”
Danny hauled open the fridge and stared. Milk and more milk cartons, juices and smoothies, and three of Mrs. Keawe’s cakes. The three tier affair with the scarlet red strawberries perched on top of swirls of cream would be a lot tastier than toast for breakfast. Or maybe the lemon meringue pie with a perfectly smooth lake of lemon jelly? Danny kind of needed to stick his finger in that faultless surface.
“Are we having a party?” Danny asked.
“Huh?”
“Cakes?” Still holding the fridge door, Danny leaned back to better see Steve. “Lots of cakes. Big cakes.”
“They’re for the kids.”
“Dee’s too small. And, well, he’d explode.”
“The workers. The workers repairing the Hall.”
“Huh! I totally forgot.” The students from the Technical College. Seolh was evidently paying them in cake.
The mundanity of life. Amidst all the shenanigans, the Hall was still being repaired, Mrs. Keawe was happily spoiling them all, and Danny was having cake for breakfast.
“It would really be brunch,” Danny pointed out.
The non sequitur threw Steve. Perplexed, he watched Danny ferry the lemon meringue and bowl to the table.
“Lemon’s a fruit, that’s healthy.” Danny moved to root through the drawers for a cake slicer and spoon.
“You okay, Danny?” Steve asked. He turned in his seat, Little Dee cradled against his chest.
“Sure.” Danny brandished the cake slicer. “So who’s around for lunch? We probably should be thinking about setting the kitchen table.”
“Toast’s at college. I think that Mary went with Nani and Mrs. Keawe. She yelled something from the hallway and a door slammed.” Steve’s expression darkened fractionally. Danny could easily guess that he did not appreciate Mary not telling him of her plans face-to-face. Given recent events they didn’t need the buddy system anymore?
“Chin? Malia?” Danny took his customary seat beside Steve, and helped himself to a generous portion of pie.
“Malia’s at work. Chin is meeting her for lunch.”
“So you, me and Mamo, maybe Kono? And a horde of kids in the Hall?” Danny mapped the expanse of the large kitchen table with a swirling gesture.
“Mrs. Keawe put together trays of sandwiches for the students and the teachers. They’re in the cold pantry.”
“Ah! The coffee.” Danny pointed at the two carafes of coffee with his spoon. “They’re for the workers.”
“Pie.” Haulani’s beady little eyes were bright. He brandished his wooden spoon at Danny’s side. Without prompting, he grabbed the fabric of Danny’s shorts and hauled himself onto Danny’s lap and the immediate vicinity of the meringue.
“Oh, now I’m your friend.” Danny held Haulani carefully with his sore arm around his tummy. “Okay.”
Haulani wriggled in, getting comfortable. Fascinated by the hirsute swath of pale golden hairs on Danny’s arm, he stroked against the grain ruffling them up, then smoothing them back down, and then again. He fingered a light brown freckle on Danny’s forearm, matching the colour to his own splayed hand.
Danny let him explore, and got a good mouthful of meringue. Pie was significantly more interesting than fluffing up hair and Haulani peered up at Danny expectantly. Obediently, Danny fed the little boy a teaspoon full of pie.
Steve smiled at them as Danny alternated between feeding himself and Haulani tiny mouthfuls of lemony goodness. Haulani beat out a happy rhythm with his wooden spoon on the table.
“Okay, gonna put Dee down.” Steve stood with the care of a geriatric sufferer of arthritis.
Danny watched his walk, wincing in sympathy. Steve was only human, he wasn’t a superman; he was bruised and sore after his run in with Wo Fat.
“Peese?” Haulani interrupted Danny’s thoughts.
“Sorry.” Danny gave him another thumbnail-sized piece of pie.
Grace could visit this weekend, he thought, contemplating the weight of the toddler on his lap. It was over, wasn’t it? There should be no repercussions, because Wo Fat, apparently, hadn’t told anyone what he was up to in his clandestine attempts to retrieve his treasures. An anxious, cold weight congealed in Danny’s gut.
“It’s over, kiddo,” Danny said to Haulani.
“Pie.”
“Well, you’ve got your priorities straight.” He couldn’t help himself, he hugged the kid. Haulani chortled, his voice very deep for a toddler.
“Keiki.” Mamo’s bulk blocked out the light from the kitchen doorway.
“Hey, Mamo.” Danny greeted the family patriarch.
“How are you feeling, son?” Mamo tromped around the kitchen table going for the coffee maker. There wasn’t going to be any left for the kids.
“Okay,” Danny said automatically.
“Stevie said you got shot?” Mamo stopped and looked straight at the bandage poking out from Danny’s t-shirt sleeve.
“Apparently, it’s just a scratch,” Danny said waspishly.
“Hmmm.” Mamo helped himself to a small cup. “I think that a scratch just needs some Neosporin?”
“You tell Steve that.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Danny echoed.
“I don’t pretend to understand a lot that goes on in Steve’s head, but training as a SEAL taught him some things that I wish that he hadn’t learnt.”
“You’re not kidding,” Danny said lowly.
“Kaniela?”
“Nothing.” Danny focused on sharing his pie with Haulani.
Mamo sat directly opposite Danny across the dark wood table. His large hands dwarfed his coffee cup.
“Danny.”
“Mamo,” Danny returned.
“Talk to me, keiki.”
Mamo’s careworn face promised understanding and empathy. It was impossible to resist.
“I don’t know where to start, Mamo. It’s been insane for so long. And--” Danny deflated. The whirlwind of his thoughts encompassed: the House; firebombing; photographs; mysteries; ‘ohana; shootings; terrorists; Seolh; fear; terror; lemon meringue pie, and Steve.
“Are you okay?” Mamo persisted.
“Yeah.”
“Keiki,” Mamo’s tone dropped more than a couple of scales.
“Fuck, Mamo. Sorry.” One-handed, he tried to cover both of Haulani’s ears. “My head’s just—I…. Mamo, we were taken. They were going to sell Steve, because of what he knows, and who he is. I was collateral. It wasn’t like watching television or the movies. It was terrifying.”
Danny didn’t say anymore because Haulani had turned on his lap and was regarding him, with his little brow furrowed with concern.
“It’s okay.” Danny kissed Haulani’s forehead.
“They were going to sell Steve like a slave?” Mamo whispered, horrified.
Danny nodded.
“What…. What about you? Collateral? What does that mean?”
“They used me to control Steve. It didn’t work. He was resourceful.” The image of Steve wringing that man’s neck blanked out everything else before him. The stench Danny belatedly realised had been the guy, his bowels voiding as he sagged into death’s grasp. A voice was speaking.
“Keiki. Danny?” Mamo was talking.
Danny took a fortifying slug of coffee.
“You’re safe now, Danny. You’re home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, Daniel,” Mamo used his given name, “Home.”
Danny nodded. “It was just....”
“You’re safe,” Mamo repeated. He echoed Danny’s earlier thoughts. “It’s over.”
He stood and came around the table to swoop arms around both Danny and Haulani. A kiss brushed Danny’s hair. Danny sighed. He was an adult not a kid, he didn’t need to be cosseted like a child.
“Thanks, Mamo.” He patted a sturdy arm, wrought with muscles from years of planing wood.
“A`ole pilikia.” Mamo kissed the top of his head again. “We need to get the family around -- make sure that you remember that you have an ‘ohana.”
“A family gathering is your answer to everything, isn’t it?” Danny said a little meanly. It was also his mother’s answer to everything. Danny was programmed to acquiesce.
“Come, I know that you are hurt, but you can help me take the coffee to the workers, yes?”
“Help. Help!” Haulani wriggled off Danny’s lap.
~*~
Carrying one of the coffee pots, Danny wrangled the toddler like a soccer ball along the corridor. Steve hadn’t reappeared. Danny suspected diaper duty, and decided not to investigate. The expanse of the long reception rooms’ corridor proved irresistible to Haulani. The kid broke away from Danny, sirening at the top of his lungs. Exuberant chortles bounced off the walls; the kid had some energy.
“Stop at the door, Haulani,” Danny called. There were likely heavy tools being used in the Hall on the other side.
Haulani stopped, a good little boy, waiting patiently. Danny had called it correctly; the Hall was a hive of activity. Oh boy, the students had been busy. The replacement wood panelling on the far wall was almost completed. Danny didn’t spot Addison, but there were a couple of older guys, sharing the blunt curve of a square jaw and similarly dark curly hair shot with grey -- brothers, Danny guessed -- overseeing the kids. Mamo had said that he knew a couple of guys that could act as foremen. No doubt they were cousins of some degree to Mamo and Maru.
The elaborate dance floor was pretty much the same as the last time -- a gaping fire-marred insult. So Uluwehi hadn’t started his reconstruction.
“Hey.” One of the kids, a gangly girl with long limbs giving her a stork-like quality, came over. Hands on knees, she stooped over Haulani. “Hey, kiddo, you stay over by your--”
“Babysitter,” Danny supplied. “Uncle Danny.”
“Uncle Danny?” Haulani questioned. He digested that, and then offered, “Daniel.”
“Big D.” Danny put his hand on his head, and then pretended to rock a baby. “Little Dee.”
“My baby!” Haulani got that point over with every iota of his being.
“Sure,” Danny agreed. Charge reassured, he offered the carafe of coffee to the student. “We’re ferrying the food over. Where do you want to eat, though?”
“We normally go out through the doors and sit outside on the steps. It’s too nice to be in the House. I’m surprised that this place doesn’t have deckchairs and stuff.”
“Oh, there are some around. We have barbeques on the beach. There’s even a pavilion, somewhere.”
“Cool. It must be great living and working here.”
Working? Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a photograph.
“So more food?” Danny jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the kitchen and the cold pantry. “You want to collar some troops, and we’ll carry the sandwiches and cakes through?”
“Sure. Has Mrs. K made cakes?”
“Chocolate thing, lemon meringue and a strawberry cream cake.”
“Awesome.”
~*~
Once the troops were fed, or more accurately eating and lazing on the Hall steps leading to the gardens and Mamo was looking after the toddler, Danny went hunting Wabbits, Elmer Fudd style. He, himself, had had a couple of fortifying sandwiches. Cake was all well and good for brunch, but a man needed a tasty ham sandwich with cheese and tomato after a hard day.
The rabbit in question was conspicuous by his absence. Steve had, however, been in charge of Little Dee, so where the baby slept, Steve was probably close. As hunting expeditions went it was as straightforward as a ruler.
Steve had lain down on the large living room sofa. Sleeping was inevitable. If the man was prone or supine, the man slept. The difference was, this time, Little Dee was fast asleep on the centre of his chest, tucked in a comfortable little ball. He had nuzzled through Steve’s shirt buttons, and his little face was snuffled up against Steve’s sparse chest hair.
Now that was a photograph.
So, of course, Danny went to get his camera from his studio. His old faithful Canon was where he had left it, on the ridiculously ornate escritoire repurposed from one of the reception rooms to be a camera table. He grabbed the Canon and the Nikon confiscated from the governor’s paparazzi.
The Canon, as he suspected, was almost out of charge. Steve slept through Danny setting up the shot. But Danny saw his nostrils flare and settle.
It was like a drug, taking photographs. Danny sometimes forgot everything around him other than the photograph. As settings went, it was kind of trite, but undeniably attractive, even if Steve did have a colossal bandage on his forehead.
I’ll process these in black and white, Danny decided, scrutinising the LCD screen.
He crouched, forgetting his arm, forgetting everything, to capture the rounded curve of Little Dee’s cheek smushed against Steve’s chest hair. The clean line of Steve’s jaw, and his scrupulously straight nose cornered the shot.
Steve was watching him, under hooded lids.
“Hey,” Danny said to that sleepy face.
“Whatcha doing?”
Danny held up the camera in response.
“Sure,” Steve said, shrugging wryly. He cupped a hand around Dee’s diapered butt, securing him.
“You know, you shouldn’t sleep like that. If you roll over you could smother Dee in your sleep.”
Steve regarded him, dubiously. Danny leaned over slightly to check that his aids were plugged in his ears.
“Let me put him in his carrier.” Danny set his camera down by the dark blue capsule on the coffee table, and reached for the baby.
Steve lay perfectly still, as Danny scooped up Dee’s pocket-full of weight. The puff of talc and sweetness of aloe vera wipes made him think of Grace so many years ago. So vulnerable, so small. Danny held Dee a little closer. Danny didn’t know the problems that Dee faced, the stuff going on that needed surgery or what had happened with his birth mother, but he knew that he was going to have a family who would help him.
“You okay, Danny?” Steve asked.
“You should never sleep with a baby like that,” Danny said, cantankerously. Angry, but not too sure with whom he was angry, Danny focussed on tucking Dee safely in his baby carrier.
Finally, he turned back to Steve, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“My situational awareness is top notch. I was not going to smother Dee,” Steve said.
“A minute’s inattention and it could happen,” Danny said flatly.
Steve’s measured gaze scrutinized him. Danny met the weight of his cool consideration. Chillingly, Danny was reminded that Steve was a very intelligent, experienced, highly trained predator.
“What?” Danny finally snapped.
“Don’t you trust me, Danny?” Steve asked.
~*~
Tbc
Part one hundred and fourteen
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LOVE THIS!!
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Discombobulated was one of my mom's favourite words in English ( we're French Canadians) and it makes me think of her every time you use it :) (She died 8 years ago)
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at some point in the near future, I will write 'indubitably, discombobulated' in a fic and, hopefully, you can think of it as a hug from your mom.
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Jen
(Anonymous) 2015-04-06 09:25 am (UTC)(link)Re: Jen
thank you for commenting.
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Haulani is such a great personality for being a little kid!
I can totally imagine Mamo writing letters to Steve about the going ons at Seolh.
Mamo does seem like the one everyone would go to (willingly or not) when they have problems. He hasn't come across, from what I've seen) as the judging type...and it there for everyone.
with that ending...it's going to be a difficult discussion.
Looking forward to more!
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Mamo totally wrote rambling, detailed, intricate multi-page letters to Steve. Steve gobble up every bit.
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I have never wanted to live in a fictional world so urgently. (Hopefully with fewer run-ins with international terrorists; but to live in a place like Seolh, I'd be willing to put up with a lot.) You've created a fantastically rich and textured world and populated it with characters to match. I'm just in awe.
Thank you for sharing this.
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And welcome to Seolh. I too would like to live in the House minus the arson and terrorist infiltration
It's got extraordinarily long -- I'm not surprised that it took three days to read.
Do you feel like you've entered the fandom *g*
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They'll figure it out
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