Hawaii 5-0 fic: Eff the Ineffable 1/5
Nov. 23rd, 2015 06:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sealieComments:
1) British English spelling
2) Sentinel AU fusion
3) Spoilers: none
4) Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Springwoof betaed with the finest of toothed combs, and it is much, much, much appreciated – thank you, Babe.
‘Eff the ineffable,’ Danny thought darkly. “Guides.”
Eff the Ineffable
By Sealie
Prologue
The plaintive notes reached higher and higher as Steve’s flute practicing slid up the scale. Danny breathed in light sea air, and relaxed further into the lounger with every satisfied note. Each individual sound was akin to the smoothest whisky soothing Danny’s way through the world. Quiet and precise, the music drifted out through the open balcony doors above Danny’s head. He could almost picture each tightly constrained note drifting like puffs of clouds towards the horizon -- which made his sentinel sight and sound meld together in a synaesthesia-like whole.
The improvement in Steve’s flute practice was palpable. A birthday gift of lessons was possibly the best present that Danny had bought in his entire life, up to and including the giant teddy bear that he had bought Grace when she had been five. Steve had taken to the lessons like a scurvy sailor being offered an orange.
Steve.
If Danny was to put one word on the changes that had been wrought, he would have said that Steve had blossomed.
He was even, he was happier, he was content.
“Hello, the house?” Chin’s honeyed tones echoed across the lanai.
Danny twisted on his chair, and lifted his arm, catching Chin’s attention. Chin came straight across the sand to the pair of deckchairs -- Danny and Steve’s.
Chin pointed at the balcony above their heads.
“Hmmm,” Danny simply said, acknowledging that, yes, Steve was making music in the little study by their bedroom that had become Steve’s music room.
Chin dropped onto Steve’s seat.
“We got a case?” Danny asked, even though he didn’t think so. Chin always left the openings for conversation rather than starting them, although he did, in fact, start them without words.
“No.” Chin eyed him. “I was driving past and I saw a large truck parked outside. I just wanted to make sure --?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy next door are moving back to their daughter’s in Colorado. She’s had twins.” Danny grinned wryly. “No one is kidnapping us and whisking us away to Sentinel Central on the Mainland. They’re renting, not selling.”
“Okay.”
Steve’s practice switched to picking out a tune. Danny didn’t recognise it. The biggest hurdle that Steve had had to overcome was that he had remembered when playing had been effortless -- learning a new song had been like learning to fly. Danny had likened it to needing physiotherapy after being injured in the course of duty. Steve had swallowed that thought as if eating a rancid fly, but had reapplied himself to rediscovering that which he had lost.
“Steve’s playing the flute,” Chin said, perplexed.
Danny honestly enjoyed his confusion, because why was it so insane that Steve liked the flute? Once you thought about it for a moment, your arguments were derailed.
“I think that he played when he was a kid?” Chin hedged. “John said something?”
Danny shrugged. The picture that he had in his head of John McGarrett was inconsistent, built on what he ascertained, and what Steve said. John McGarrett was a hard ass; Steve craved his approval -- which he had never gotten. John loved him but had sent Steve away.
People were complicated.
“Yep.” Danny shuffled down his chair, lounging a little more comfortably.
“That’s--” Chin squirmed.
Whoops, Steve had picked a piece that was low and sad. Tears pricking in his eyes, Danny’s heart clenched.
“Steve?” he said softly. “Tone it down.”
There was a fillip of oops and the tune flipped to a spritely and jaunty jig.
“What?” Chin sat up straight on his chair.
“What was it my Nonna used to say: music soothes the savage beast. He forgets.”
“Steve’s manipulating emotions with his music?” Chin shifted on the hard seat.
“Isn’t that generally what music does?” Danny said unconcerned. “You’ve been to concerts.”
“But I don’t expect to start crying,” Chin said with an uncharacteristic edge.
“Clearly you’ve never heard Queen’s ‘Who Wants to Live Forever’,” Danny said drolly.
“Have you spoken to Kahuna Kila?” Chin persisted.
“He thought that it was a good idea.” Danny rolled his eyes; they had dispensed with regular, twice-weekly sessions with the kahuna la'au lapa'au advising them. He was now one of the family: Kila came to ‘Ohana barbeques; his son Little Ford had the cutest of crushes on Grace; Danny could pick up the phone at any time and chew his ear, and they had actually babysat Ford several times. It was a little creepy the way that Kila always said that he was honoured. But until Chin was more comfortable with the concept of Sentinel and Guides, Danny would bounce ideas off Kila.
“Fair enough,” Chin said in his phlegmatic way.
“You staying for dinner? Steve got some tuna.”
“Sure. Malia’s got a late shift and the baby’s with her mother.”
~*~
Part one
Danny pulled his Camaro in next to Steve’s monster truck and smoothly came to a halt. He had had a meeting with Rachel and Grace’s teacher, going over Grace’s report card. An uncharacteristic blot on her normally excellent English marks had prompted a meeting. Subsequently, Grace was being moved out of Mrs. Milburn’s class and into Ms. Chester’s class. Mrs. Milburn, in Danny psychiatric opinion, needed help, and until she got it, Grace wasn’t going to be in her sphere of influence. Grace, following the rule of omertà, had closed down like a winkle in a shell. But Danny was a trained detective. Mrs. Milburn’s tendency to throw tennis balls and occasionally erasers at pupils with whom she was unhappy was not something that Danny would tolerate.
There was an unfamiliar car parked outside Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy’s home, and the trunk was open. Danny eyed the invitation to thieves, and decided to wait until he met their new neighbours. The vehicle was a rental judging from the tiny label on the bumper. Kamekona’s was one of the few businesses on the island that rented cars, apartments and the occasional lot. Their new neighbours had some cash to back them.
A middle-aged white guy strode out of the Abernathy’s porch. Unconcerned and on a mission, moving straight to the car parked on the drive. Danny catalogued automatically: rumpled slacks and shirt; judging by the odour, worn for longer than twenty four hours; good quality clothes -- not a vagrant.
“Oh, hey.” The man smiled, toothily, and immediately angled around the vehicle coming down the drive to meet Danny. “Are you one of my neighbours?”
“Danny Williams. I live next door.” Danny met him halfway, hand outstretched.
The new neighbour’s hand was broad, and fit into Danny’s neatly. He had a good, comforting grip, not too tight, not too soft. Eye to eye -- similar in height -- Danny noted that his neighbour’s eyes were a darker blue. Gauging automatically -- always an observant cop, it wasn’t just about being a sentinel -- Danny put his age in the mid-forties. Where Danny’s own hair was sun-topped blond, the guy’s closely cropped curls were a pale, washed out dark brown threaded with coarse grey strands. His toothy smile was open and trusting.
“Sebastian. Seb Kurtz. Nice to meet you.”
“Do you prefer Seb or Sebastian?” Danny released his hand.
“Don’t mind. Either or. Danny? Or Daniel, I guess?”
“Always Danny. You just moving in? From the Mainland?” Danny asked unnecessarily, because skin that pale was definitely Mainland pale, and from the northern latitudes. His accent was difficult to judge?
“Yep, Boston.”
Danny had thought Seattle, so way off and then some.
“Why Hawaii?”
“Oh, here for work. I travel a lot -- all over. My family’s from Boston, but I’ve been to most places in Pan North.”
That might explain the uneven lilt to his words if he travelled regularly throughout the American, European and African territories.
“Work?” Danny angled his thumb at the open trunk. “Do you need a hand with stuff?”
“Nah, last bag. I was going to do the lazy man load, and then I remembered that I like my back, so I left the last bag.” Sebastian grabbed the bag and slammed the trunk shut. He clicked the key fob in his pocket, and the lights flashed twice as the rusty rental car locked. “I’d invite you in for a beer. But I don’t have any groceries. Hey, you’ll know, where’s the best, closest market?”
“Turn onto Kamaile Street.” Danny pointed left up Piikoi Street. “Take the second left and drive to the end of the road. There’s a mom and pop store that stocks bread, milk, malasadas -- everything that you need at ten o’clock after a long day at work.”
“Malasadas?”
“Donut things, Awesome.”
“Okay, cool, thanks. I’m going to dump this bag, and then head straight out. Is it close enough to walk? Gas is expensive here. And, I’ve been trapped in flying tin cans all day and air conditioned airports, I’d like to stretch my legs.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect. Nice to meet you, Danny.” Sebastian shook Danny’s hand again.
“If you need anything, we’re next door,” Danny said, good-neighbourly.
“We?” Sebastian smiled.
“Yeah, me and my partner, Steve,” Danny said, levelly.
“Oh?” Unconsciously, Sebastian glanced towards their house.
There was a blip of interest that Danny read as a pinch in his pupils and a sharpness in his gaze. Danny couldn’t properly gauge it -- that was Steve’s domain. It wasn’t the norm, but there were incidences of weird phobes scurrying in the wainscoting. But Danny didn’t register any embarrassed or irritated flush over Seb’s cheekbones.
“You here on your own?” Danny asked. He thought so because he couldn’t hear anyone in close proximity other than a quiet and uncharacteristically still Steve.
“Yep.” Sebastian nodded.
“We’ll be on the lanai until later. The Abernathys’ backyard kind of abuts ours when the tide’s out.”
Sebastian wrinkled his nose, perplexed.
“The veranda out back.” Danny sketched a rectangular porch in midair. “You’ve got a beach. Our yards are separated by trees. I don’t know what kind. They’re green and bushy. Come round later if the jet lag doesn’t hit. We’ve always got beer.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.” Sebastian nodded. “It will be nice to meet you both.”
Danny waved him ‘bye’ as he headed down his path. He angled around the house, rather than using the front door. Avoiding the scaffolding shoring up the south wall, the last repair that they had to make post the tsunami, Danny focused on his goal. He wasn’t sensing, as expected, Steve practicing or swimming out in the ocean, but tracked a heartbeat at rest around to the lanai.
“Aww.” Danny stopped.
Grace had decided that the lanai needed a hammock. Steve, of course, had weaved a Nicaraguan-style hammock out of a couple of bracing poles and a hank of twine he had in the garage. Grace loved it.
And so did Steve.
Grace loved curling up in its folds with her latest book.
Generally, Steve basked like a lizard, shirt off, hands behind his head, legs crossed at the ankle. Today, though, he was spark out, in a loose comma. Bootless, he was still wearing his ubiquitous cargo pants and t-shirt.
It was kind of endearing. And spoke of a long day.
Vel was curled in a protective ball under the shade of the hammock. Her tail thumped in welcome.
“Hey, girl.” Danny crouched, hands outstretched. “Steve picked you up from Mrs. Donavan’s -- the kids wore you out. Eh?”
She ran over, tush wiggling in eagerness to greet her second favourite person.
“I’m guessing that the doofus didn’t manage to feed you before he took his nap?” Danny doubted it, because his boots might be piled under the hammock, but he had one sock on. The evidence pointed to a scenario where Steve sat on the hammock to pull off his stinky boots before going into the house, and then lay back in the string cradle.
Food was the order of the day. Vel concurred, eagerly tagging at Danny’s heels.
~*~
Grill or pasta, Danny pondered, hanging off the door of the fridge to consider the Steve-offerings within -- protein, protein, protein and veggies. Takeout was an alternative. He wasn’t a great fan of takeout food, because only a few restaurants passed the sentinel sense test. It was frankly disturbing how many restaurants failed the sentinel sense test. He was tired, though.
Vel, head canted, ear flopping to the side, waited patiently.
“I suppose we could --” Danny grabbed the two steaks off the bottom shelf. “Tomatoes, Vel? Ooh, corn. “
Dinner decided -- grilled ribeye steak, griddled tomatoes and corn on the cob with butter -- Danny set the makings on the counter.
“And for you, Vel, premium beef and chicken chunks in a rich gravy with kibble.”
Vel woofed, enthusiastically.
Danny wandered back to the lanai to light the grill. They had fought over the grill. Fire and charcoal appealed to Steve on a Neolithic level. Danny liked the convenience of gas. They both agreed that expensive store-bought chemical soaked tray grills were out. It wasn’t even a fight. Danny pushed a match through the metal work into the prepared tinder. It would take a while to heat up the coals. Danny lowered the lid to a crack.
Steve was still undisturbed. Vulnerable and deeply asleep.
Danny angled over to Steve’s side to palm his forehead. Temperature was okay.
“Steve, have you been influencing people after I went to Grace’s teachers’ meeting? Steven?”
Steve mumbled and cracked open an eye to regard him sleepily.
“Babe?” Danny licked his thumb, and swiped it across Steve’s temple, and briefly returned his thumb to his mouth.
“Danny,” Steve whined.
Water, salt, the tang of minerals -- but none of the flat, toxic bite that Danny associated with Steve being an idiot and overstretching the meagre control that he had on his empathy.
“Did you catch Manny?” Danny asked about their latest case. Manny was an annoying human being who deserved to be caught and given a very painful wedgie or four.
“Yep, chase through grounds of the university.” Steve stretched, shirt riding up over his tummy. “A professor was making the ice in his lab. Got them both.”
“Did you?” Danny wiggled his fingers by his temple.
“No,” Steve said a little sullenly.
“Did you want to?” Danny pursed his lips.
“No,” Steve said with his frank honestly. The wealth of feeling that he could bestow on a single, truculent word was weighty.
“Why are you tired?”
“Long week?” Steve closed his eyes and flopped. It had indeed been a long week. Lots of chasing. Lots of running. Lots of hot sun and boring stakeouts. Friday night was very welcome.
“Okay, Babe.” Danny palmed his forehead again. “It’s gonna take twenty minutes before the grill’s ready. You want a beer?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathed, long eyelashes gently sweeping.
Danny figured that Steve would be asleep by the time he returned with the beer so he decided not to bother. Danny moseyed back into the kitchen to pre-soak the corn before grilling the husks.
~*~
“Stand down. On your knees!”
Danny swept up his gun from the kitchen counter and barrelled out through the living room and dining area. It took at least four long seconds. Thought equalled motion, automatic clasped between his hands, he blasted through the open doors and out on to the lanai.
Their new neighbour stood in the middle of the beach hands stretched far above his head, fingers splayed.
“Don’t shoot,” Sebastian squeaked, “Please!”
“Steve!” Danny yelled. “Stand down!”
Steve had Sebastian in his sights.
“State your purpose?” Steve insisted robotically.
“Uhm, I came to ask a question?” Sebastian sounded unsure. He shook.
“Steve? Steve?” Danny made a wide circle coming into Steve’s line of sight. It appeared that Seb had awoken a soundly sleeping Steve; never a good thing under any circumstances. A stranger walking up upon Steve was a recipe for disaster. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Seb’s our new neighbour. I invited him over for a beer. He’s renting the Abernathy house.”
Steve stared at Danny as if he was an interesting organism found under one of Grace’s stones when the pair of them went poking around on the rocky sea shores.
“Babe? Are you awake?” Danny probed. “Steven?”
“Danny?” Steve lowered his weapon to point it at the sand.
“Thank you.” Seb scrabbled his fingers into his hair.
“Sorry,” Steve grated.
“I’m hoping that you guys are cops?” Sebastian said. “Otherwise, I’m really, really sorry and I’ll --”
“We’re 5O,” Steve rapped.
“And what’s that? Not a gang? Please tell me that it’s not a gang?”
“Hawaii state governor’s task force,” Danny said. “Police.”
“For real?”
“Real.” Steve flipped up his t-shirt up and gestured at his gold 5O badge on his belt with his finger -- tap, tap.
“Dude, you need to learn how to relax.” Sebastian sagged. “If my bubbe had come with me you’d’a given her a heart attack.”
“Bubbeh? Who’s Bubbeh?”
“Grandmother.” Danny smacked Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Put your gun away!”
Steve shoved it back in his waist holster.
“You wanted something?” Steve snapped.
“Manners!” Danny rebuked. It was like having a truculent toddler. “You’ll have to excuse him; he’s just up from his nap.”
Steve glowered.
“I’m really sorry.” Seb splayed his hands. “A light blew and the fuses went. But I can’t find the fuse box. I’ve looked in the usual places, but couldn’t find it. I guessed since your house looks sort of similar, architecturally speaking, you might have an idea?”
“Steve?” Danny asked, because the Abernathy family had lived next door for decades and he guessed that Steve had been a visitor especially when their daughter was younger. Steve had also loaned a hand during the recent repairs needed in the aftermath of the wave that had rocked ‘Oahu, and all of the other Islands of Hawaii.
“You didn’t look very hard,” Steve said cursorily. “There’s a box in the garage. “
“Look, I apologise for him. He’s a bear when he’s woken up.” Danny turned Steve in the direction of the barbeque and gave him a sharp push between the shoulder blades. “Put the steaks on the grill, I’ll help Seb.”
“No.” Steve eeled away from the direction of Danny’s push. “I’ll go. I know where it is. I’ll be right back.”
He stalked off. Seb regarded Steve and flicked a worried glance back at Danny.
You’ll be fine, Danny mouthed. He’s just tired and hungry.
Plainly dubious, Seb trailed in Steve’s wake, leaving a lot of space.
Mentally, Danny added some shrimp skewers to their planned evening meal, and decided to quickly make some peanut dressing, because he had figured out that a hungry Steve was a weird Steve. He would make him drink some V8 when he came back from terrorising Seb.
~*~
Steve looked at the plate of food that Danny set in front of him and glanced back up at Danny.
“I don’t think that even I can eat this much,” he observed, nostrils flaring.
“I’ll believe that when I see it, animal.” Danny picked up a skewer and delicately nipped off the first plump shrimp with his teeth. “Surf and turf, Babe, it’s a classic.”
“Animal. Babe.” Steve also went for the shrimp, and smacked his lips as he chomped. His table manners were atrocious when he was hungry. Mopping up gloopy chunks of satay sauce, he polished through the two lines of shrimp like a refuse compactor. The first mouthful of steak was met with a hum of pleasure. It was a train wreck.
Danny watched and, under his scrutiny, the colour returned to Steve’s cheeks and the skin on his drawn face actually plumped out. Steve raised an eyebrow in question.
“Are you sure that you didn’t--” Danny spider-wiggled his fingers at his temple, “--today? No emotional manipulation of poor unsuspecting perps that you were angry at?”
Steve paused, cheek bulging like a chipmunk, as he mentally ran through his day. He shook his head. Swallowing mightily around his mouthful, he volunteered,
“I’m allowed to be tired, aren’t I?”
That was actually remarkably mature for Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, US Navy. Getting him to admit to being anything other than perfectly fine was usually a battle of monumental proportions.
“It has been a long week,” Danny agreed, and relaxed a little further into the bliss of a quiet weekend stretching before them. The fairy lights around the lanai (Grace’s idea) flicked on, the solar lights responding to dusk. Danny checked the world around him: the drone of cars; the murmur of voices; a flock of birds chirping; the clank of pots that was Mr. Kalo preparing dinner for his horde three houses over; water filling a bath, and a baby’s chortle. All the noises signalled a peaceful corner of a sentinel territory.
“You want a beer?” Danny stood.
“Do we have any red wine?”
“Wine?” Danny stepped back a fraction; that was a different choice. “I think I saw a dusty bottle of Bordeaux in the wine rack. I’ll check.”
The wine was an Argentinean Malbec and was thick with dust. Danny held his breath as he wiped it down with a wetted towel. The cork popped very satisfyingly. Danny wafted his hand over the top and sniffed to get a sense of the wine. The illegally imported wine was deeply chocolaty with black cherry and the acid tang of tannins. It wasn’t classed as Sentinel safe, but it was undoubtedly an expensive, aged red, made the old fashioned way without sulphites. Deciding to try the wine, Danny grabbed two glasses. He suspected that it was a leftover from Steve’s painfully naïve attempts to woo Catherine. Danny was going to quaff it and enjoy every mouthful.
~*~
Danny read as Steve snuffled on his side of the bed. The benefits of sentinel sight were many and varied, and reading in the dark of night was one of them. As he read he swept the immediate area -- all was clear. Soon he would sleep. It was well documented that Sentinels slept less than average. Guides, Danny suspected, slept more.
Hmmm.
As was his habit, Steve’s foot twitched, his fingers twitched, and he mumbled. Fidget McFidget. There was something up, but Danny had been at Grace’s school for most of the afternoon. He should have called Kono or Chin. But Steve hadn’t been dissembling; as far as he was aware their afternoon hadn’t been unusual by 5O’s reckoning. Of course, 5O’s reckoning was pretty weird, and open to interpretation.
Were all guides fidgety? Danny sometimes wished that he could call Sentinel Central and get answers. In another universe, maybe. The Mainland bureaucracy had petitioned the Hawaiian State to release their current sentinel and guide for standard examination. But the governor had cited the ongoing recovery efforts since the tsunami and need for surveillance as reasons not to relinquish their only team. Danny didn’t want to give Sentinel Central any excuse to extract them from the Islands. It galled because he would have liked to visit his parents, and his parents’ last two petitions to travel to ‘Oahu had been refused.
Danny suspected that their Skype chats were monitored. But since it was electronic, sentinel senses didn’t help identify any tapping. All Chin could confirm was that it wasn’t secure. Oh, Chin could set up a secure, bouncing connection to his parents. But anything that his parents set up was suspect, since Danny had come by his total lack of technical acumen honestly.
Sweep, all clear.
“Plutocracy,” Steve muttered. “I prefer a benevolent dictatorship.”
Danny eyed him.
“Nope,” Steve popped the ‘p’.
Honestly, Danny hadn’t a clue what went on in his idiot’s brain. Dreams were always a little askew. Danny set his book aside -- he was pretty sure who the murderer was in the latest O’Brien novel -- and shuffled down. He flipped onto his side, and regarded Steve’s patrician profile.
“I do not agree,” Steve said authoritatively. “Not here.”
Sleep talking or magically talking to someone? His mom had spoken of spirit guides when she had visited. Danny pretty much thought that the spiritual side of the sentinel-guide equation was horse pucky. But the guide orientated literature that they had access or had managed to get their hands on skirted the paranormal when talking about the guide abilities.
It was so utterly frustrating. Danny liked cold hard facts. Steve, actually, was as spiritual as a brick.
Although, that was a little unfair. He had argued when Danny had entered the heiau; sensitive of people’s perceptions and beliefs. Danny had known that there were no spirits present, even though he had felt cursed afterwards.
Danny grumbled under his breath.
He hated the spiritual side.
“Damn it,” Danny said. It was the depth of night that got him thinking about the intangible. Danny checked the world was on an even keel; no intrusions.
“Ko`a.” Steve startled, and sat bolt upright.
“Hey, Babe.” Danny didn’t move a muscle, surprised at the suddenness of Steve’s motion.
“I need to piss,” Steve overshared, and threw back his blankets. He angled toward their bathroom with the surety of walking in your own home. Danny let the sounds wash over him, the flow of urine, a tinkle hitting the porcelain bowl, the flush of the toilet, and splash of water. Steve returned with the same automaton motion of the not-truly-awake.
“You okay?” Danny reached out as Steve clambered into bed.
Steve grumbled under his breath. He snugged in tight against Danny’s side, lying on his stomach, face mashed into his pillow.
“Danny.” He snaked an arm around Danny, snuffled, and was instantly deeply asleep.
Danny was now not going anywhere, so he closed his eyes, and sought sleep.
~*~
The coffee pot was perking for Danny when he finally deigned to stagger downstairs for breakfast. A tray with a couple of bowls of diced fruit, one sans pineapple, a plate of cold cuts, cheese, butter and fresh bread, covered with a vintage floral cake cover sat by the pot.
Danny grabbed a container of yoghurt from the fridge to dump on his breakfast fruit. He collected the coffee, two mugs, and the tray before wandering out onto the lanai to stare at the annoying blue of the ocean and the pallid yellow of the narrow beach.
He set their breakfast on the lanai table rather than down by their deck chairs on the beach, preferring to eat in a more seated than lounging position.
Velvet was rooting around in the bushes, terrorising sticks, neighbours’ cats or some other sort of Hawaiian wildlife.
Steve was at least three hundred yards out, dolphin-kicking through the choppy water. There was a pressure system some four hundred miles south west of their position pushing a dense weather front. By tomorrow evening there would be heavy rains hitting the island. At the moment only the water was telegraphing its far off presence.
The coffee was perfect with just a hint of cinnamon -- the way that he liked it.
Steve jack-knifed in the water, turning back to shore. Danny figured that he would hit the beach in two comfortable minutes. He poured out Steve’s coffee.
Steve, the ass, knew how attractive he was as he emerged from the water. He wore his turquoise blue trunks, so Steve was thinking about hanky panky in the hammock.
Danny toasted him with his mug.
Abruptly, Steve scowled and stomped up the beach.
“Hey, Babe.” Danny remained slumped in his seat and held Steve’s coffee at arms length.
“Sebastian is practising yoga on the Abernathy’s lanai,” Steve growled.
Danny blinked. That had come out of left field.
“It's okay, Babe,” Danny said, as he checked that, yes, their new neighbour was doing ridiculous contortions on his decking. “You can also do your yoga stuff, it's not a competition.”
"Thanks," Steve said, so flatly that his tone could have been used as a carpenter’s level.
“Don’t be such a grump.” Danny put Steve’s coffee on the table and pulled the net cover off their breakfast.
Perfunctorily, Steve dried off with the towel draped over his chair, and plopped down. Danny didn’t grimace as he dumped a spoonful of butter in his coffee. They had had that fight. Danny thought that it was too oily to drink. The fight over whether they had salted butter or non-salted butter in the fridge had been monumental. Steve had won.
“What are we up to today?” Steve asked as he picked at his fruit with his fingers. “We’ve got the kids next weekend.”
“Boring stuff, I guess; defeat the pile of laundry; mop the kitchen floor; scrub the counters; trash….”
“Done, done, done, and done. Okay, the laundry’s running.”
“I guess,” Danny said, because he knew his Steve very well, “we could go hiking then, but we will have to stop by the farmer’s market on the way back.”
“Deal. You clean the bathrooms.”
Such was the mundane life of a Sentinel and Guide.
~*~
Part two
1) British English spelling
2) Sentinel AU fusion
3) Spoilers: none
4) Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Springwoof betaed with the finest of toothed combs, and it is much, much, much appreciated – thank you, Babe.
Eff the Ineffable
By Sealie
Prologue
The plaintive notes reached higher and higher as Steve’s flute practicing slid up the scale. Danny breathed in light sea air, and relaxed further into the lounger with every satisfied note. Each individual sound was akin to the smoothest whisky soothing Danny’s way through the world. Quiet and precise, the music drifted out through the open balcony doors above Danny’s head. He could almost picture each tightly constrained note drifting like puffs of clouds towards the horizon -- which made his sentinel sight and sound meld together in a synaesthesia-like whole.
The improvement in Steve’s flute practice was palpable. A birthday gift of lessons was possibly the best present that Danny had bought in his entire life, up to and including the giant teddy bear that he had bought Grace when she had been five. Steve had taken to the lessons like a scurvy sailor being offered an orange.
Steve.
If Danny was to put one word on the changes that had been wrought, he would have said that Steve had blossomed.
He was even, he was happier, he was content.
“Hello, the house?” Chin’s honeyed tones echoed across the lanai.
Danny twisted on his chair, and lifted his arm, catching Chin’s attention. Chin came straight across the sand to the pair of deckchairs -- Danny and Steve’s.
Chin pointed at the balcony above their heads.
“Hmmm,” Danny simply said, acknowledging that, yes, Steve was making music in the little study by their bedroom that had become Steve’s music room.
Chin dropped onto Steve’s seat.
“We got a case?” Danny asked, even though he didn’t think so. Chin always left the openings for conversation rather than starting them, although he did, in fact, start them without words.
“No.” Chin eyed him. “I was driving past and I saw a large truck parked outside. I just wanted to make sure --?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy next door are moving back to their daughter’s in Colorado. She’s had twins.” Danny grinned wryly. “No one is kidnapping us and whisking us away to Sentinel Central on the Mainland. They’re renting, not selling.”
“Okay.”
Steve’s practice switched to picking out a tune. Danny didn’t recognise it. The biggest hurdle that Steve had had to overcome was that he had remembered when playing had been effortless -- learning a new song had been like learning to fly. Danny had likened it to needing physiotherapy after being injured in the course of duty. Steve had swallowed that thought as if eating a rancid fly, but had reapplied himself to rediscovering that which he had lost.
“Steve’s playing the flute,” Chin said, perplexed.
Danny honestly enjoyed his confusion, because why was it so insane that Steve liked the flute? Once you thought about it for a moment, your arguments were derailed.
“I think that he played when he was a kid?” Chin hedged. “John said something?”
Danny shrugged. The picture that he had in his head of John McGarrett was inconsistent, built on what he ascertained, and what Steve said. John McGarrett was a hard ass; Steve craved his approval -- which he had never gotten. John loved him but had sent Steve away.
People were complicated.
“Yep.” Danny shuffled down his chair, lounging a little more comfortably.
“That’s--” Chin squirmed.
Whoops, Steve had picked a piece that was low and sad. Tears pricking in his eyes, Danny’s heart clenched.
“Steve?” he said softly. “Tone it down.”
There was a fillip of oops and the tune flipped to a spritely and jaunty jig.
“What?” Chin sat up straight on his chair.
“What was it my Nonna used to say: music soothes the savage beast. He forgets.”
“Steve’s manipulating emotions with his music?” Chin shifted on the hard seat.
“Isn’t that generally what music does?” Danny said unconcerned. “You’ve been to concerts.”
“But I don’t expect to start crying,” Chin said with an uncharacteristic edge.
“Clearly you’ve never heard Queen’s ‘Who Wants to Live Forever’,” Danny said drolly.
“Have you spoken to Kahuna Kila?” Chin persisted.
“He thought that it was a good idea.” Danny rolled his eyes; they had dispensed with regular, twice-weekly sessions with the kahuna la'au lapa'au advising them. He was now one of the family: Kila came to ‘Ohana barbeques; his son Little Ford had the cutest of crushes on Grace; Danny could pick up the phone at any time and chew his ear, and they had actually babysat Ford several times. It was a little creepy the way that Kila always said that he was honoured. But until Chin was more comfortable with the concept of Sentinel and Guides, Danny would bounce ideas off Kila.
“Fair enough,” Chin said in his phlegmatic way.
“You staying for dinner? Steve got some tuna.”
“Sure. Malia’s got a late shift and the baby’s with her mother.”
~*~
Part one
Danny pulled his Camaro in next to Steve’s monster truck and smoothly came to a halt. He had had a meeting with Rachel and Grace’s teacher, going over Grace’s report card. An uncharacteristic blot on her normally excellent English marks had prompted a meeting. Subsequently, Grace was being moved out of Mrs. Milburn’s class and into Ms. Chester’s class. Mrs. Milburn, in Danny psychiatric opinion, needed help, and until she got it, Grace wasn’t going to be in her sphere of influence. Grace, following the rule of omertà, had closed down like a winkle in a shell. But Danny was a trained detective. Mrs. Milburn’s tendency to throw tennis balls and occasionally erasers at pupils with whom she was unhappy was not something that Danny would tolerate.
There was an unfamiliar car parked outside Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy’s home, and the trunk was open. Danny eyed the invitation to thieves, and decided to wait until he met their new neighbours. The vehicle was a rental judging from the tiny label on the bumper. Kamekona’s was one of the few businesses on the island that rented cars, apartments and the occasional lot. Their new neighbours had some cash to back them.
A middle-aged white guy strode out of the Abernathy’s porch. Unconcerned and on a mission, moving straight to the car parked on the drive. Danny catalogued automatically: rumpled slacks and shirt; judging by the odour, worn for longer than twenty four hours; good quality clothes -- not a vagrant.
“Oh, hey.” The man smiled, toothily, and immediately angled around the vehicle coming down the drive to meet Danny. “Are you one of my neighbours?”
“Danny Williams. I live next door.” Danny met him halfway, hand outstretched.
The new neighbour’s hand was broad, and fit into Danny’s neatly. He had a good, comforting grip, not too tight, not too soft. Eye to eye -- similar in height -- Danny noted that his neighbour’s eyes were a darker blue. Gauging automatically -- always an observant cop, it wasn’t just about being a sentinel -- Danny put his age in the mid-forties. Where Danny’s own hair was sun-topped blond, the guy’s closely cropped curls were a pale, washed out dark brown threaded with coarse grey strands. His toothy smile was open and trusting.
“Sebastian. Seb Kurtz. Nice to meet you.”
“Do you prefer Seb or Sebastian?” Danny released his hand.
“Don’t mind. Either or. Danny? Or Daniel, I guess?”
“Always Danny. You just moving in? From the Mainland?” Danny asked unnecessarily, because skin that pale was definitely Mainland pale, and from the northern latitudes. His accent was difficult to judge?
“Yep, Boston.”
Danny had thought Seattle, so way off and then some.
“Why Hawaii?”
“Oh, here for work. I travel a lot -- all over. My family’s from Boston, but I’ve been to most places in Pan North.”
That might explain the uneven lilt to his words if he travelled regularly throughout the American, European and African territories.
“Work?” Danny angled his thumb at the open trunk. “Do you need a hand with stuff?”
“Nah, last bag. I was going to do the lazy man load, and then I remembered that I like my back, so I left the last bag.” Sebastian grabbed the bag and slammed the trunk shut. He clicked the key fob in his pocket, and the lights flashed twice as the rusty rental car locked. “I’d invite you in for a beer. But I don’t have any groceries. Hey, you’ll know, where’s the best, closest market?”
“Turn onto Kamaile Street.” Danny pointed left up Piikoi Street. “Take the second left and drive to the end of the road. There’s a mom and pop store that stocks bread, milk, malasadas -- everything that you need at ten o’clock after a long day at work.”
“Malasadas?”
“Donut things, Awesome.”
“Okay, cool, thanks. I’m going to dump this bag, and then head straight out. Is it close enough to walk? Gas is expensive here. And, I’ve been trapped in flying tin cans all day and air conditioned airports, I’d like to stretch my legs.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect. Nice to meet you, Danny.” Sebastian shook Danny’s hand again.
“If you need anything, we’re next door,” Danny said, good-neighbourly.
“We?” Sebastian smiled.
“Yeah, me and my partner, Steve,” Danny said, levelly.
“Oh?” Unconsciously, Sebastian glanced towards their house.
There was a blip of interest that Danny read as a pinch in his pupils and a sharpness in his gaze. Danny couldn’t properly gauge it -- that was Steve’s domain. It wasn’t the norm, but there were incidences of weird phobes scurrying in the wainscoting. But Danny didn’t register any embarrassed or irritated flush over Seb’s cheekbones.
“You here on your own?” Danny asked. He thought so because he couldn’t hear anyone in close proximity other than a quiet and uncharacteristically still Steve.
“Yep.” Sebastian nodded.
“We’ll be on the lanai until later. The Abernathys’ backyard kind of abuts ours when the tide’s out.”
Sebastian wrinkled his nose, perplexed.
“The veranda out back.” Danny sketched a rectangular porch in midair. “You’ve got a beach. Our yards are separated by trees. I don’t know what kind. They’re green and bushy. Come round later if the jet lag doesn’t hit. We’ve always got beer.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.” Sebastian nodded. “It will be nice to meet you both.”
Danny waved him ‘bye’ as he headed down his path. He angled around the house, rather than using the front door. Avoiding the scaffolding shoring up the south wall, the last repair that they had to make post the tsunami, Danny focused on his goal. He wasn’t sensing, as expected, Steve practicing or swimming out in the ocean, but tracked a heartbeat at rest around to the lanai.
“Aww.” Danny stopped.
Grace had decided that the lanai needed a hammock. Steve, of course, had weaved a Nicaraguan-style hammock out of a couple of bracing poles and a hank of twine he had in the garage. Grace loved it.
And so did Steve.
Grace loved curling up in its folds with her latest book.
Generally, Steve basked like a lizard, shirt off, hands behind his head, legs crossed at the ankle. Today, though, he was spark out, in a loose comma. Bootless, he was still wearing his ubiquitous cargo pants and t-shirt.
It was kind of endearing. And spoke of a long day.
Vel was curled in a protective ball under the shade of the hammock. Her tail thumped in welcome.
“Hey, girl.” Danny crouched, hands outstretched. “Steve picked you up from Mrs. Donavan’s -- the kids wore you out. Eh?”
She ran over, tush wiggling in eagerness to greet her second favourite person.
“I’m guessing that the doofus didn’t manage to feed you before he took his nap?” Danny doubted it, because his boots might be piled under the hammock, but he had one sock on. The evidence pointed to a scenario where Steve sat on the hammock to pull off his stinky boots before going into the house, and then lay back in the string cradle.
Food was the order of the day. Vel concurred, eagerly tagging at Danny’s heels.
~*~
Grill or pasta, Danny pondered, hanging off the door of the fridge to consider the Steve-offerings within -- protein, protein, protein and veggies. Takeout was an alternative. He wasn’t a great fan of takeout food, because only a few restaurants passed the sentinel sense test. It was frankly disturbing how many restaurants failed the sentinel sense test. He was tired, though.
Vel, head canted, ear flopping to the side, waited patiently.
“I suppose we could --” Danny grabbed the two steaks off the bottom shelf. “Tomatoes, Vel? Ooh, corn. “
Dinner decided -- grilled ribeye steak, griddled tomatoes and corn on the cob with butter -- Danny set the makings on the counter.
“And for you, Vel, premium beef and chicken chunks in a rich gravy with kibble.”
Vel woofed, enthusiastically.
Danny wandered back to the lanai to light the grill. They had fought over the grill. Fire and charcoal appealed to Steve on a Neolithic level. Danny liked the convenience of gas. They both agreed that expensive store-bought chemical soaked tray grills were out. It wasn’t even a fight. Danny pushed a match through the metal work into the prepared tinder. It would take a while to heat up the coals. Danny lowered the lid to a crack.
Steve was still undisturbed. Vulnerable and deeply asleep.
Danny angled over to Steve’s side to palm his forehead. Temperature was okay.
“Steve, have you been influencing people after I went to Grace’s teachers’ meeting? Steven?”
Steve mumbled and cracked open an eye to regard him sleepily.
“Babe?” Danny licked his thumb, and swiped it across Steve’s temple, and briefly returned his thumb to his mouth.
“Danny,” Steve whined.
Water, salt, the tang of minerals -- but none of the flat, toxic bite that Danny associated with Steve being an idiot and overstretching the meagre control that he had on his empathy.
“Did you catch Manny?” Danny asked about their latest case. Manny was an annoying human being who deserved to be caught and given a very painful wedgie or four.
“Yep, chase through grounds of the university.” Steve stretched, shirt riding up over his tummy. “A professor was making the ice in his lab. Got them both.”
“Did you?” Danny wiggled his fingers by his temple.
“No,” Steve said a little sullenly.
“Did you want to?” Danny pursed his lips.
“No,” Steve said with his frank honestly. The wealth of feeling that he could bestow on a single, truculent word was weighty.
“Why are you tired?”
“Long week?” Steve closed his eyes and flopped. It had indeed been a long week. Lots of chasing. Lots of running. Lots of hot sun and boring stakeouts. Friday night was very welcome.
“Okay, Babe.” Danny palmed his forehead again. “It’s gonna take twenty minutes before the grill’s ready. You want a beer?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathed, long eyelashes gently sweeping.
Danny figured that Steve would be asleep by the time he returned with the beer so he decided not to bother. Danny moseyed back into the kitchen to pre-soak the corn before grilling the husks.
~*~
“Stand down. On your knees!”
Danny swept up his gun from the kitchen counter and barrelled out through the living room and dining area. It took at least four long seconds. Thought equalled motion, automatic clasped between his hands, he blasted through the open doors and out on to the lanai.
Their new neighbour stood in the middle of the beach hands stretched far above his head, fingers splayed.
“Don’t shoot,” Sebastian squeaked, “Please!”
“Steve!” Danny yelled. “Stand down!”
Steve had Sebastian in his sights.
“State your purpose?” Steve insisted robotically.
“Uhm, I came to ask a question?” Sebastian sounded unsure. He shook.
“Steve? Steve?” Danny made a wide circle coming into Steve’s line of sight. It appeared that Seb had awoken a soundly sleeping Steve; never a good thing under any circumstances. A stranger walking up upon Steve was a recipe for disaster. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Seb’s our new neighbour. I invited him over for a beer. He’s renting the Abernathy house.”
Steve stared at Danny as if he was an interesting organism found under one of Grace’s stones when the pair of them went poking around on the rocky sea shores.
“Babe? Are you awake?” Danny probed. “Steven?”
“Danny?” Steve lowered his weapon to point it at the sand.
“Thank you.” Seb scrabbled his fingers into his hair.
“Sorry,” Steve grated.
“I’m hoping that you guys are cops?” Sebastian said. “Otherwise, I’m really, really sorry and I’ll --”
“We’re 5O,” Steve rapped.
“And what’s that? Not a gang? Please tell me that it’s not a gang?”
“Hawaii state governor’s task force,” Danny said. “Police.”
“For real?”
“Real.” Steve flipped up his t-shirt up and gestured at his gold 5O badge on his belt with his finger -- tap, tap.
“Dude, you need to learn how to relax.” Sebastian sagged. “If my bubbe had come with me you’d’a given her a heart attack.”
“Bubbeh? Who’s Bubbeh?”
“Grandmother.” Danny smacked Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Put your gun away!”
Steve shoved it back in his waist holster.
“You wanted something?” Steve snapped.
“Manners!” Danny rebuked. It was like having a truculent toddler. “You’ll have to excuse him; he’s just up from his nap.”
Steve glowered.
“I’m really sorry.” Seb splayed his hands. “A light blew and the fuses went. But I can’t find the fuse box. I’ve looked in the usual places, but couldn’t find it. I guessed since your house looks sort of similar, architecturally speaking, you might have an idea?”
“Steve?” Danny asked, because the Abernathy family had lived next door for decades and he guessed that Steve had been a visitor especially when their daughter was younger. Steve had also loaned a hand during the recent repairs needed in the aftermath of the wave that had rocked ‘Oahu, and all of the other Islands of Hawaii.
“You didn’t look very hard,” Steve said cursorily. “There’s a box in the garage. “
“Look, I apologise for him. He’s a bear when he’s woken up.” Danny turned Steve in the direction of the barbeque and gave him a sharp push between the shoulder blades. “Put the steaks on the grill, I’ll help Seb.”
“No.” Steve eeled away from the direction of Danny’s push. “I’ll go. I know where it is. I’ll be right back.”
He stalked off. Seb regarded Steve and flicked a worried glance back at Danny.
You’ll be fine, Danny mouthed. He’s just tired and hungry.
Plainly dubious, Seb trailed in Steve’s wake, leaving a lot of space.
Mentally, Danny added some shrimp skewers to their planned evening meal, and decided to quickly make some peanut dressing, because he had figured out that a hungry Steve was a weird Steve. He would make him drink some V8 when he came back from terrorising Seb.
~*~
Steve looked at the plate of food that Danny set in front of him and glanced back up at Danny.
“I don’t think that even I can eat this much,” he observed, nostrils flaring.
“I’ll believe that when I see it, animal.” Danny picked up a skewer and delicately nipped off the first plump shrimp with his teeth. “Surf and turf, Babe, it’s a classic.”
“Animal. Babe.” Steve also went for the shrimp, and smacked his lips as he chomped. His table manners were atrocious when he was hungry. Mopping up gloopy chunks of satay sauce, he polished through the two lines of shrimp like a refuse compactor. The first mouthful of steak was met with a hum of pleasure. It was a train wreck.
Danny watched and, under his scrutiny, the colour returned to Steve’s cheeks and the skin on his drawn face actually plumped out. Steve raised an eyebrow in question.
“Are you sure that you didn’t--” Danny spider-wiggled his fingers at his temple, “--today? No emotional manipulation of poor unsuspecting perps that you were angry at?”
Steve paused, cheek bulging like a chipmunk, as he mentally ran through his day. He shook his head. Swallowing mightily around his mouthful, he volunteered,
“I’m allowed to be tired, aren’t I?”
That was actually remarkably mature for Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, US Navy. Getting him to admit to being anything other than perfectly fine was usually a battle of monumental proportions.
“It has been a long week,” Danny agreed, and relaxed a little further into the bliss of a quiet weekend stretching before them. The fairy lights around the lanai (Grace’s idea) flicked on, the solar lights responding to dusk. Danny checked the world around him: the drone of cars; the murmur of voices; a flock of birds chirping; the clank of pots that was Mr. Kalo preparing dinner for his horde three houses over; water filling a bath, and a baby’s chortle. All the noises signalled a peaceful corner of a sentinel territory.
“You want a beer?” Danny stood.
“Do we have any red wine?”
“Wine?” Danny stepped back a fraction; that was a different choice. “I think I saw a dusty bottle of Bordeaux in the wine rack. I’ll check.”
The wine was an Argentinean Malbec and was thick with dust. Danny held his breath as he wiped it down with a wetted towel. The cork popped very satisfyingly. Danny wafted his hand over the top and sniffed to get a sense of the wine. The illegally imported wine was deeply chocolaty with black cherry and the acid tang of tannins. It wasn’t classed as Sentinel safe, but it was undoubtedly an expensive, aged red, made the old fashioned way without sulphites. Deciding to try the wine, Danny grabbed two glasses. He suspected that it was a leftover from Steve’s painfully naïve attempts to woo Catherine. Danny was going to quaff it and enjoy every mouthful.
~*~
Danny read as Steve snuffled on his side of the bed. The benefits of sentinel sight were many and varied, and reading in the dark of night was one of them. As he read he swept the immediate area -- all was clear. Soon he would sleep. It was well documented that Sentinels slept less than average. Guides, Danny suspected, slept more.
Hmmm.
As was his habit, Steve’s foot twitched, his fingers twitched, and he mumbled. Fidget McFidget. There was something up, but Danny had been at Grace’s school for most of the afternoon. He should have called Kono or Chin. But Steve hadn’t been dissembling; as far as he was aware their afternoon hadn’t been unusual by 5O’s reckoning. Of course, 5O’s reckoning was pretty weird, and open to interpretation.
Were all guides fidgety? Danny sometimes wished that he could call Sentinel Central and get answers. In another universe, maybe. The Mainland bureaucracy had petitioned the Hawaiian State to release their current sentinel and guide for standard examination. But the governor had cited the ongoing recovery efforts since the tsunami and need for surveillance as reasons not to relinquish their only team. Danny didn’t want to give Sentinel Central any excuse to extract them from the Islands. It galled because he would have liked to visit his parents, and his parents’ last two petitions to travel to ‘Oahu had been refused.
Danny suspected that their Skype chats were monitored. But since it was electronic, sentinel senses didn’t help identify any tapping. All Chin could confirm was that it wasn’t secure. Oh, Chin could set up a secure, bouncing connection to his parents. But anything that his parents set up was suspect, since Danny had come by his total lack of technical acumen honestly.
Sweep, all clear.
“Plutocracy,” Steve muttered. “I prefer a benevolent dictatorship.”
Danny eyed him.
“Nope,” Steve popped the ‘p’.
Honestly, Danny hadn’t a clue what went on in his idiot’s brain. Dreams were always a little askew. Danny set his book aside -- he was pretty sure who the murderer was in the latest O’Brien novel -- and shuffled down. He flipped onto his side, and regarded Steve’s patrician profile.
“I do not agree,” Steve said authoritatively. “Not here.”
Sleep talking or magically talking to someone? His mom had spoken of spirit guides when she had visited. Danny pretty much thought that the spiritual side of the sentinel-guide equation was horse pucky. But the guide orientated literature that they had access or had managed to get their hands on skirted the paranormal when talking about the guide abilities.
It was so utterly frustrating. Danny liked cold hard facts. Steve, actually, was as spiritual as a brick.
Although, that was a little unfair. He had argued when Danny had entered the heiau; sensitive of people’s perceptions and beliefs. Danny had known that there were no spirits present, even though he had felt cursed afterwards.
Danny grumbled under his breath.
He hated the spiritual side.
“Damn it,” Danny said. It was the depth of night that got him thinking about the intangible. Danny checked the world was on an even keel; no intrusions.
“Ko`a.” Steve startled, and sat bolt upright.
“Hey, Babe.” Danny didn’t move a muscle, surprised at the suddenness of Steve’s motion.
“I need to piss,” Steve overshared, and threw back his blankets. He angled toward their bathroom with the surety of walking in your own home. Danny let the sounds wash over him, the flow of urine, a tinkle hitting the porcelain bowl, the flush of the toilet, and splash of water. Steve returned with the same automaton motion of the not-truly-awake.
“You okay?” Danny reached out as Steve clambered into bed.
Steve grumbled under his breath. He snugged in tight against Danny’s side, lying on his stomach, face mashed into his pillow.
“Danny.” He snaked an arm around Danny, snuffled, and was instantly deeply asleep.
Danny was now not going anywhere, so he closed his eyes, and sought sleep.
~*~
The coffee pot was perking for Danny when he finally deigned to stagger downstairs for breakfast. A tray with a couple of bowls of diced fruit, one sans pineapple, a plate of cold cuts, cheese, butter and fresh bread, covered with a vintage floral cake cover sat by the pot.
Danny grabbed a container of yoghurt from the fridge to dump on his breakfast fruit. He collected the coffee, two mugs, and the tray before wandering out onto the lanai to stare at the annoying blue of the ocean and the pallid yellow of the narrow beach.
He set their breakfast on the lanai table rather than down by their deck chairs on the beach, preferring to eat in a more seated than lounging position.
Velvet was rooting around in the bushes, terrorising sticks, neighbours’ cats or some other sort of Hawaiian wildlife.
Steve was at least three hundred yards out, dolphin-kicking through the choppy water. There was a pressure system some four hundred miles south west of their position pushing a dense weather front. By tomorrow evening there would be heavy rains hitting the island. At the moment only the water was telegraphing its far off presence.
The coffee was perfect with just a hint of cinnamon -- the way that he liked it.
Steve jack-knifed in the water, turning back to shore. Danny figured that he would hit the beach in two comfortable minutes. He poured out Steve’s coffee.
Steve, the ass, knew how attractive he was as he emerged from the water. He wore his turquoise blue trunks, so Steve was thinking about hanky panky in the hammock.
Danny toasted him with his mug.
Abruptly, Steve scowled and stomped up the beach.
“Hey, Babe.” Danny remained slumped in his seat and held Steve’s coffee at arms length.
“Sebastian is practising yoga on the Abernathy’s lanai,” Steve growled.
Danny blinked. That had come out of left field.
“It's okay, Babe,” Danny said, as he checked that, yes, their new neighbour was doing ridiculous contortions on his decking. “You can also do your yoga stuff, it's not a competition.”
"Thanks," Steve said, so flatly that his tone could have been used as a carpenter’s level.
“Don’t be such a grump.” Danny put Steve’s coffee on the table and pulled the net cover off their breakfast.
Perfunctorily, Steve dried off with the towel draped over his chair, and plopped down. Danny didn’t grimace as he dumped a spoonful of butter in his coffee. They had had that fight. Danny thought that it was too oily to drink. The fight over whether they had salted butter or non-salted butter in the fridge had been monumental. Steve had won.
“What are we up to today?” Steve asked as he picked at his fruit with his fingers. “We’ve got the kids next weekend.”
“Boring stuff, I guess; defeat the pile of laundry; mop the kitchen floor; scrub the counters; trash….”
“Done, done, done, and done. Okay, the laundry’s running.”
“I guess,” Danny said, because he knew his Steve very well, “we could go hiking then, but we will have to stop by the farmer’s market on the way back.”
“Deal. You clean the bathrooms.”
Such was the mundane life of a Sentinel and Guide.
~*~
Part two
