Disclaimer: Nothing related to Hawaii Five-0 belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with Steve and Danno.

Fine is Not an Option

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Steve McGarrett grunted, easing down onto his couch. Blowing out a breath, he twisted the cap of a bottle of beer, and raised the bottle to his lips. But before he could take as much as a sip, the bottle was wrenched away from his mouth. He glared—okay, make that squinted—at the offender; none other than his task force partner, Danny Williams. Danny hadn't been in the room when Steve had snuck out to the kitchen a few minutes ago to grab the beer.

"Uh uh. No beer, McGarrett. Doctor's orders." The detective tried to pull the brown bottle from Steve's grasp, but his partner's fingers tightened inexorably around the bottle.

"Ah, c'mon. It's just one," muttered Steve. He tugged on the beer bottle to no avail.

"No. Now take these." Danny held out two little white pills.

Steve's expression turned mulish, emphasizing the ugly purple bruises and swelling on the right side of his face. "I don't need those. I'm fine."

Danny's eyebrows rose. "Fine?" He leaned forward. "He's fine, he says. Oh, really?" Without hesitation, Danny extended an index finger and poked Steve's injured side.

McGarrett yelped which then turned into a gasp. One hand flew to his side as pain erupted. His eyes watered. He cursed.

"THAT is not fine," muttered Danny. He grabbed the beer bottle from Steve's lax grip. Danny extended his hand with the pills. "Take 'em and lay down. I'll get an ice pack for your side."

With another curse, Steve relented, gingerly stretched out, stifling a moan. When Danny headed for the kitchen, he called, "Stay out of my chocolate!" He coughed at the exertion.

"Fat chance, McGarrett," Williams called back. Steve kept a stash of good stuff in the freezer and the detective knew it. He filched a piece whenever he could.

Danny returned with an ice pack a few minutes later. He laid it against Steve's side. "Here."

The lieutenant commander flinched as the cold came in contact with heated skin. After a few seconds, he muttered, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Danny took a swallow from the confiscated beer bottle, enduring Steve's heated glare. He swallowed and purposely heaved an exaggerated sigh of contentment, a step short of licking his chops. He dropped down in a chair next to the couch and grabbed the remote.

"So no beer?" whined Steve.

"Nope, not for a week."

"Son of a bitch."