Author's Notes: So, uh. This was supposed to be a short, lolsy comment!fic about zombies and apocalypses and angsty, sexytimes with Steve and Danny. And it's totally going to have the sexytimes. And maybe the lolsy times, too. Definitely the angsty times. But somewhere between short and porn, I got lost, and now I have like 7,000 words of pineapple zombies, and seriously, what is wrong with me?
Title: Pineapples Killed My Neighbors; or, This Would Never Happen in New Jersey
Author: ohladybegood/dress without sleeves
Rating: R for language, eventual porn
Spoilers: Um, none, and also all? Nothing specific, but I'd rather play it safe.
Warnings: Here there be zombies, and some fairly gross blood, and also and excess of bad language, because Mary Ann McGarrett has the mouth of a sailor.
Disclaimer: If I owned Hawaii Five-0, it would be even gayer than it already is. LOL, wait, that's not possible, this show is so completely unreal.
Summary: Hawaii has a zombie problem, and it's really messing with Danny Williams' workweek.
Pineapples Killed My Neighbors;
or, This Would Never Happen in New Jersey
The world ends on a Tuesday, which Danny finds oddly fitting, given his history with Tuesdays. Mondays are slow and Wednesdays take too long, but Tuesdays always signal crisis of epic proportions that usually end in gunfire and the ruination of at least one good button-down.
It had started as a normal day, the kind of day you forget about even while it's happening, and it stayed that way for a glorious three hours, all the way until Danny made the mistake of turning on his TV, where he heard Katie Couric say without a trace of sarcasm, "'Pineapple Zombie' epidemic sweeping through Hawaii." He looks out of his window in time to catch sight of his neighbor Courtney take a huge bite out of her dog Coco, which is disturbing enough without the addition of her brains spilling periodically out of her left ear.
"Right," he says, and finishes his coffee, because if growing up in New Jersey taught him nothing else, it taught him that you can't face the apocalypse without caffeine.
The first thing he does after that is call Rachel, who answers on the second ring in the overly calm voice he recognizes from all the times she waited for him in the hospital, the kind of calm that says she's about to absolutely fucking lose it.
"We're fine," she says before he even gets a chance to ask. "Stan barricaded all the doors and windows and we're camped in the garage. We have canned food."
"Why is Grace crying?"
In a loud voice, Rachel says, "the neighbor ate her rabbit," but then in more of a whisper she adds, "actually it got infected because of the pineapples so Stan had to kill it. But we thought it would be less psychologically damaging if we went with the neighbor story."
And this is incredible to Danny, that there is a fucking zombie infestation happening right now and Rachel is worried about the psychological effects of rabbit death on their daughter, not to mention the fact that Stan has somehow managed to make a hero of himself by virtue of killing a bunny rabbit.
As he loads the few firearms he keeps at his apartment into the car and starts the engine, he hears himself asking what sort of sick person feets a rabbit pineapple when they far prefer carrots, but this is obviously just another point on the every-growing list of why Hawaii is a miserable place that maybe even had the whole zombie apocalypse thing coming.
"Just get here, please," Rachel says flatly. "We can't stay in the garage forever and Gracie has to pee." She pauses. "If you could bring Steve," she adds hesitantly, "it may help you to have some back up. That is . . . if he's not—"
"Steve is fine," Danny interrupts, even though he hasn't heard from the man and really has no evidence of this. But the idea of a piece of fruit spelling doom for his batshit partner is so fucking inconceivable that he doesn't bother entertaining the thought for longer than it takes to form it.
Steve is fine. Steve is fine. Steve is fine because Danny is not going to allow him not to be fine, and if he isn't fine then Danny will make him fine, and that's just the end of that.
"Right then," Rachel says, voice clipped, "good. See you soon."
They hang up and Danny swings out of the driveway, being sure to hit Courtney as he does, because anyone who can eat their own dog raw is obviously beyond help (for one thing, the sad eyes, and for another, the fur). He tries Steve twice and gets no answer, but this has to mean nothing because he's probably just busy beheading shit and enjoying it too much, or else he's lost his phone, or else he's a sadistic bastard who doesn't realize that Danny might be actually fucking worried about him. Danny can already hear the excuses in his head: well, Danno, I was a bit busy rescuing orphans and puppies from the big scary zombie, I didn't realize there was etiquette to the end of the world.
Kono wakes up early, like she always does, and goes out with her board. Ben likes to sleep in and catch the afternoon swells, when there are any, so she kisses him on the temple and grins as he mumbles at her groggily.
The sun is just rising, creeping up over the horizon like an old woman rising out of the bath, and Kono let's the waves take her, in and out and in and out, nothing but the water and her feet on the board.
When she gets in Ben is sitting lazily up in bed, his short hair disheveled and a little corner of drool on the side of his mouth. He lives in a tent so there's no such thing as a kitchen, but she grabs a can of pineapple off his counter and tosses it to him, leaping on the bed after it.
Ben laughs, hands coming up to her waist, and drags his mouth along her jaw to her neck to her collarbone.
She pulls away, sitting back as she straddles him. "Easy, tiger," she laughs. "I'm all salty."
"I know," he says cheerfully, licking his lips. "You taste like the ocean. I like it."
And that's just Ben, so different from everyone else in her life. Easy, carefree, here-since-she-was-fifteen Ben. None of the baggage of Steve or Danny or even Chin, nine of the casual chauvinism of the guys on the force and none of the stigma of her being able to kick his ass blindfolded. Kono likes this about him, likes that after a day of shooting people she can come back here to the sound of the ocean and her boyfriend yelling good naturedly at the community's kids.
She bends down and kisses him, long and slow, and then crawls off, giggling as he tries to pull her back. "Get a job, hobo," she teases. "I have to shower and get ready for mine."
"I have a job," he calls happily after her, mouth full of pineapple. "It just happens to involve a great deal of sitting on the beach and leaves a lot of time for fooling around with my girlfriend."
Kono shakes her head and walks to the communal shower, closing her eyes as the water streams down her face sand back.
This is when the screaming starts. Kono's eyes snap open and she leaps out of the shower, not quite able to process the sight of Lorelei, the woman who lives next door, peeling off a flake of her own skin and sinking her teeth into her daughter's arm.
"Hey," Kono shouts, "hey! What the hell are you doing?"
But when Lorelei turns to look at her, her eyes are dull and dead and there is - oh god- pieces of liquid brain dripping out of her nose like blood, and Kono does what her instincts tell her and runs. like fucking. hell. She doesn't stop until she gets to Ben's, not even when everything outside starts going to shit, as the screams and chaos really start coalescing into the smell of blood and-is that ... fruit ...?
"Oh God," she says, realizing, and pulls back the flap of Ben's tent with sudden trepidation and honest-to-God fear.
Everything is quiet and still, and she is just getting ready to be relieved when suddenly there is a decaying hand on her shoulder and she knows by the thin silver ring on the thumb who it belongs to.
She doesn't let herself hesitate, even though she is screaming on the inside, even though every fiber of her is thinking no, this is Ben, there might be a cure, no.
Kono grabs the hand and yanks as she bends down, flipping Ben over her back and onto the floor. The arm-oh God-snaps off and blood splatters across her face as Ben howls. Kono reaches blindly for the gun that she keeps on the counter and empties a round; the bullets go through him without doing anything but punching holes in his skin. He snarls at her, rabid, and keeps advancing, and now her feelings are turned off and this is survival. She backs up toward the desk and grabs the closest thing she can find- a paperweight- and let's him leap at her. They go down in a tangle of arms and legs but Kono twists around to his back and starts hitting him- and hitting- and hitting, blood flying into her eyes and face and hair, but he keeps struggling even as his brain turns into putty on her hands, so eventually she stops and places her palms on his cheeks and twists sharply until she hears the snapand Ben goes still beneath her.
She gets up slowly and realizes that she is sobbing, frantically brushing bits of brain and muscle and dead skin off her arms and face. She walks to the bedroom and vomits, shaking all over. When she is emptied of food and bile and tears, she goes back to the living area and grabs a kitchen knife and the machete Ben keeps for cutting wood.
She doesn't let herself look in the mirror as she dresses but when she leaves the tent she grabs the picture of her and Ben at fifteen off the desk and tucks it into her pocket.
Outside, most of the commune is decaying or fleeing or being fed on, and Kono twirls her blades in her hands, thinking of the hacked up body of a person she could have loved on the floor.
"Come and get me, motherfuckers," she snarls.
Chin realizes the world has ended when he looks at his phone and sees missed calls from almost every one of his cousins and Malia, who he hasn't heard from since the night she decided she didn't love him anymore and moved out while he was grocery shopping. He turns on the television and watches for a few minutes as the news tells him that- is this a joke?- a batch of pineapples carrying some foreign bacteria has infected his island and is turning people into rabid, decaying versions of themselves. Footage from a helicopter shows burning buildings and fleeing civilians and people without body parts still walking around as if it was nothing, and he thinks, almost comically, that maybe he should have listened to Danny about the pizza thing.
He calls his family back first and only gets a hold of Sid, who tells him that he's got a bunch of civilians holed up at the station and to get over there.
"You know anything about this?" Sid asks, and Chin almost laughs out of stung disbelief.
"You think I knew this was coming? Think what you want about the drug money, but fuck you, brah."
"Look. I'm sorry," Sid snaps, not sounding it. "I don't know what sort of network you guys- "
"Stay safe, Sid," Chin interrupts and hangs up. He calls Kono and gets no answer so he calls Steve and gets no answer so he calls Danny and gets a busy signal, which is at least reassuring. If Danny is live somewhere talking someone's ear off then at least something is as it should be, and that's really all Chin needs.
Malia never calls him back, but he gets a text message that says hospital. safe. keep in touch.
He puts together a weapon set, since he doesn't really know how to approach the whole zombie-thing. He reasons knives will be best, always go for the throat since loss of limbs seems irrelevant to the infected. In a flash of genius, he also grabs his fishing spears and a crossbow with arrows he used to use to hunt boar.
Kono calls as he's putting the finishing touches on the Chin Ho Kelly Zombie Survival Kit and he breathes a sigh as her name flashes on his phone. "Thank God, cos," he says as he answers. "Had me worried for a second. I thought maybe you'd broken the ban on that crap canned pineapple your haole likes."
Her silence indicates everything that needs to be said about Ben, and Chin's stomach sinks. "Oh, Kono. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," she says in the same voice she had once used to say I will blow your fucking brains out to a suspect who had been trafficking little girls.
He wants to say something, anything to make it better, but Kono has always been strong and never needed him to be her protector. So he nods once and clears his throat. "Okay then. If you need me."
"Yeah," Kono replies, voice breaking. "I know." There's a pause in which Chin hears her grunt and then the death howl of decayed vocal chords, and then she asks, "You heard from Steve or Danny?"
"No reply from Steve and Danny's line was busy. I'm closest to Steve's, I'm going to head over and check it out. You keep trying Danny and we'll meet up at Five-0."
"Yeah," Kono says again. They both hesitate, and then hang up, neither saying goodbye.
Kono calls just as Danny is turning into Rachel's suburb and informs him that Chin went over to Steve's to check up since he hasn't answered their calls either, and that they're all to rendezvous at headquarters when they can. She's on the main road, just five minutes from where Danny is parked, so she says she'll meet him there.
When he gets to the front of Rachel's house he abruptly understands why she'd suggested backup, because there are at least fourteen zombified rich people trying to climb over the fence. And while Danny isn't some punk afraid of a fight, he's not Rambo either, so he waits in the car until Kono gets there, on foot.
"You didn't drive?" He asks, making a point to not stare. Kono is literally drenched in blood, so much so that it's matting her hair and turning her face a dusting brown color. She tosses him a machete and says in a dull tone, "Guns don't keep them down and Ben likes to eat pineapple for breakfast," by way of explanation, and he feels a twinge of sympathy he hadn't expected.
"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.
"Me too," she replies, and then sets about releasing her rage and her grief by massacring everything without a pulse.
Danny follows suit, realizing that he'll have to rethink his idea that she was the most well adjusted member of the team as she beheads a fifty-year-old accountant with glasses without a second thought. "So how come you're not turned?" Danny asks, slicing through the throat of a woman who once dropped of Gracie at his apartment when Rachel bailed at the last minute.
"I eat real pineapple, the kind that grows outside my Mom's," Kono replies, doing an excellent job of not freaking out when she kicks someone's chest and her foot goes all the way through. She rips her leg back out and jams her machete into his neck. "Not that store-bought crap Ben loves . . . loved. They think it's a single batch that started it, but then the infected starting attacking and—"
"And it spreads through blood and saliva. Right. Got it." He's freaking out, so he wants to calm down by making some joke about kissing diseases and mono and the generally evil nature of pineapples, but Kono just slaughtered her boyfriend and she is clinging to her machete like it's a teddy bear and she's had a nightmare, so he refrains.
He wishes Steve were here, and then regrets the thought so instantly that he almost chokes.
There's a loud honk from inside the garage and Danny drags Kono out of the way as Rachel and Stan's huge Hummer ploughs through the garage door. Rachel opens the back door and shouts, "Get in!"
They run over four zombies (and this is a phrase Danny will never get used to, not ever) on their way to headquarters, but Danny tells Grace to keep her eyes shut and puts his hands over her ears. "What is it with my partners being insane drivers?" he asks himself. "Is there something about me that invites recklessness?"
"Your problem is that you think we aren't in control," Rachel tells him through gritted teeth as they pull up in front of headquarters. Chin's car is already there, and three others that Danny doesn't recognize. Steve's isn't, and Danny gets the beginning of a knot in his stomach.
"He probably came in Chin's car," Kono's voice says as she comes up behind him, her bloody hand squeezing his shoulder.
"Yeah," he agrees, even though the idea of Steve riding bitch, even in the middle of the apocalypse, is downright impossible to imagine.
They go inside and lock the door, and Danny swings Grace up into his arms. She's stopped crying and is instead descending into the kind of calm freak out that Rachel has, where she doesn't speak and watches everyone with wide, slightly-panicked eyes. "Y'okay, monkey?" he murmurs, squeezing her a little tighter. "Danno's got you. It's okay if you're scared."
"I'm not scared," Grace says. "I'm mad that Mr. Gibbon ate my rabbit."
"That's the spirit," a voice says from behind them, and Danny's not ashamed to admit that the relief flooding through him is at least as strong as the fury, because fuck you, Steve McGarrett, learn to answer your fucking phone.
Kono lets go of Danny and instead spins, punching Steve hard across the jaw. He takes the hit in stride and grabs her hand on the recoil. She's trembling and literally spitting blood, but she lets him drag her forward for a quick, hard hug, and she hisses, "God damnit, Boss, answer your phone next time."
"Sorry," he says, sincerely enough until he follows it up with, "I didn't realize there was etiquette to the end of the world," and Danny sighs because yep. He called it.
Steve looks over Kono's shoulder and meets Danny's eyes. Danny nods once: yes, asshole, I'm okay, fuck you for worrying me. Steve nods: good.
They regroup in one of the holding cells, where Danny is sort of surprised to see Kamekona and less surprised to see Mary Ann. Even weirder is that Mary Ann seems unshakably cool, leaning back in the only chair with her feet curled under her butt, looking for all the world like this is an everyday occurrence in the life of a McGarrett child (which, given Steve and all his Big Issues, is actually a possibility) and she's just pissed off it interrupted her The Price is Right marathon.
"I fucking hate Hawaii," she says with a world-weary sigh, and Danny tosses her an agreeing nod. He thinks idly that this whole experience had better earn him one night a week with Grace, because he's not the one who brought them to literally the only place in the world currently suffering from an infestation of the undead.
"Right," Steve says, talking over his sister, "so I've been in touch with Max Bergman at the morgue, and he says if we can get him a body he can do an autopsy and try to figure some of this out. Apparently he has this hiding place behind one of the bookshelves that he had built after the Chief of Police kept coming in unannounced and frightening him."
"Of course he does," Chin mutters, shaking his head.
"Have you heard from the governor?" Kono asks, looking mildly hopeful but mostly resigned. "Is there some sort of plan being developed, some protocol we should be following?"
"Please tell me you guys have an In Case of The Pineapple file somewhere that only the HPD and the government knows about," Danny adds. "That would just be icing on the fucking cake."
"Cuss kitty," Grace says, sounding dazed.
"Flipping cake," Danny amends.
Steve casts him a Look, one that rests somewhere between No Ties In Hawaii and You're The Backup on the spectrum of the facial expressions that Danny is rapidly becoming fluent in. "I don't know about any protocols," he says, which surprises exactly no one since he can't even remember to recite the Miranda rights on a normal day, never mind the end of the world (/Hawaii). "I haven't heard from the governor, but if there's a way to get off this island . . ."
"They'll be headed to her first," Chin completes for him, nodding. "I don't know though, brah. It seems risky. There's no safe way to get all of us to wherever she might be, if she's even still alive. And there's no telling how safe that place will be, even if we get there."
"Right," Steve agrees. "We can't all go, and we can't stay away once we get there." He glances over at Danny, who is slowly reading the thoughts forming on his partner's face and sighs.
"Which means that the majority of the group has the stay here and the rest of us have to go kidnap the governor under the guise of calling it a rescue mission," Danny deduces, rubbing a hand at his forehead.
Fucking Tuesdays, man.
"And someone has to get a corpse to the morgue," Kono adds.
"Okay," Steve says. "So then here's the plan. Chin and Kono go help Max and Danny and I will try to find the governor. Nobody die. Sound good?"
Danny nods and Chin nods and Kono nods and it's nice, synced, all that ohana stuff, a reassurance of something resembling normal in the face of the world all going one hundred percent to shit.
Her brother and his little band of merry men are all go-team-break when Mary says, "Um, I hope you aren't forgetting that someone has to stay here to protect the regular people." She unfolds her legs and raises an eyebrow in Steve's direction, and fuck him for being all Man In Charge, anyway. "I mean, I can handle myself in a fight and all, but I think that at least one of you ninjas should be around in case shit gets heavy, 'cause I'm like a buck ten and I just saw my ten-year-old paperboy pick up a body builder with one hand."
Steve shakes his head, looking so much like their father that she wants to hit him on principle. "There aren't enough people to spread out that thin. No one can go anywhere alone, not if we don't want to be turned into-"
"Zombies," his partner supplies helpfully. "Pineapple zombies if you want to be official."
Steve throws Danny a look that's part "shut up" and part "I love you," if Mary is reading this right, and she is, because they've never been close exactly but she can still read her brother like he's a fucking Twilight book. "If you barricade the doors and windows you should be fine," Steve informs her in his best Navy SEAL voice. "And anyway, our man Kamekona can help you out."
"Super," Mary says flatly. "Me and Shamu against the world. Rock on." She glances at the large man in the corner, who has stayed mostly silent this whole time and is currently engaged in a staring contest with Danny's daughter, what's-her-name.
"Mary," Steve warns.
"Don't 'Mary,' me, asshole. This is bullshit. We're not all fucking Navy SEALS, okay, sorry I'm not gung-ho with the idea of cutting off people's heads while you go out and act like a retard with a death wish!"
There's a long silence in which all non-suicidal parties are probably agreeing with her. Steve blows a breath out of his nose, like he is just so put-upon to have her as a sister, and she's honestly not sure how much of the anger burning through her right now is instinctive rebellion at being told what to do and how much is just icy cold fucking fear that the world is ending and her brother wants to leave the safe place in favor of the place where people, actual decaying, rabid people, want to eat him.
There also may be a tiny little part of her that is weeping because she's scared shitless and she just wants her big badass Navy SEAL of a brother to stay with her in case something goes wrong. He's an insufferable asshat who suffers from the worst case of emotional constipation she's ever seen, but he's also her big brother, and he looks out for her even when he wants to strangle her, and she could use that side of him right about now.
"I can help," the tall balding white guy says hesitantly into the silence, and Mary is like, great, I'm stuck here with Shamu and a grown-up, live-action Doug Funny. Awesome.
"Who are you, again?" she asks cuttingly. "Seriously, Doug Funny, do you even live on the island or did you just get lucky and hitch a ride with Lieutenant-Commander Dickwad over here?"
Kono coughs into her hand and looks away, and Danny reaches surreptitiously behind Steve's back to flash her a thumb's up. Steve looks vaguely horrified, in that way that he always does when she shoots her mouth off in public, but fuck him, and fuck Doug Funny, and fuck this fucking island, okay, and while she's at it, fuck her father for bringing them here in the first place.
And for God's sake, fuck pineapples. Fuck them so fucking hard.
Maybe Doug Funny is a nice guy and maybe he'll be handy in a fight, but he's not Steve, and she doesn't want some two-bit replacement, she wants her brother. And fine, maybe that makes her selfish, and maybe she's the only one here not being completely cool-calm-collected about this, but you know what, there are human beings outside turning into zombies and in the fact of that, she's really not that worried about her social image.
"We'll come back as soon as we can," Chin says soothingly, the way that he says everything. Seriously, that dude is like Mr. Zen all the time and always has been, as long as she can remember. He used to come over when he was a rookie under her father and he was always aloha, brah, let me sooth you with my calming voice. "It shouldn't take more than an hour or two to get to the morgue and back. Then we'll be back."
Everyone is looking at her with her father's favorite expression, the one that says, 'Wow, Mary, be a bigger fucking disappointment to the human race,' and she wants to tell them all to fuck right off but instead curls her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees and shrugs. "Whatever," she says flatly. "Fine. Go outside and get eaten, see if I give a shit."
She stands up and leaves the room, violently cursing everything she can come up with of to curse, and tries not to think about the fact that she had a pineapple smoothie for breakfast.