Summary: Steve has an apology to make. Fortunately, he has a boombox.
Author's Notes: Written for Schmoop_Bingo, prompt Serenade. Set somewhere mid-season one, if anywhere.
Disclaimer: I own neither Hawaii 5.0, nor Schmoop Bingo; I'm just playing.
Apology, with Pancakes
"What the - " Danny paused long enough to clap his hands over his grinning daughter's ears. "What the heck are you doing? Have you gone nuts? Is this sunstroke? Because if this is sunstroke, you are getting a giant I-told-you-so from me, and also, get your ass inside, where the sun is not."
"I don't have sunstroke," Steve corrected patiently. He smiled at Gracie, who gave him the thumbs-up of childish approval. One Williams down; one to go; of course, she'd been easier to win over than her father was likely to be.
"Really? Really, Steve? Because I know of no logical reason for you to be standing outside my apartment, where I," he gestured to himself, accidentally lifting his hands from Grace's ears, "and my lovely daughter have been enjoying a delightful morning of pancakes."
"Pancakes?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
"Pancakes," Danny affirmed. "We have expanded our pancake recipe collection to include many new and exciting options, though we will never again put pineapple in the pancakes, as this is an unholy combination almost as bad as pineapple on pizza."
"It was yucky," Grace agreed, and her father shot her a look full of pineapple-loathing pride.
"Good to know." Since he was too smart to miss the points he'd get for amusing Grace, he asked her, "have you branched out to crepes yet? Because you can roll crepes around pineapple and stuff."
Her eyes widened very, very quickly, and Danny clapped his hands back over her ears.
"Will you quit giving her ideas? You are an enabler, that's what you are - a pineapple pushing enabler, encouraging my daughter in an unnatural love of putting fruits where they do not belong."
"I've always liked pineapple at breakfast. Satisfies my sweet tooth."
"You have a sweet tooth?"
"Of course I have a sweet tooth," he said reproachfully, intending to continue on with, what do you think I'm doing hanging around with you?
They both looked back down.
"You didn't say a bad word yet."
"I didn't... what are you talking about, munchkin?"
"You're doing the ear thing, but you didn't use any bad words yet."
"Sweetheard, we've talked about this. When I put my hands over your ears, it's because I am going to talk about grown-up things for a little bit, and you are a little girl. Therefore, you cannot listen to me saying grown-up things, so you do not listen if I should happen to accidentally, under great stress, say a bad word in front of you. Thus, you are not learning to say bad words from me, and if your mother ever hears you say one, you can tell her that you overheard a complete stranger say it, or else your step-stan, and that you don't know what it means."
She rolled her eyes.
"I heard Mommy say dammit once."
"Ha! And also, that is a very bad word, and you are not allowed to use it until you're thirty."
They shared a moment of incomprehensible Williams communication. Steve watched, feeling his chest tighten, because this was what family should mean, these moments of secret grins and silent negotiation and love, all there on the surface. So casually displayed you'd think it wasn't the one thing worth fighting for when the whole world went mad.
"Now you," Danny said suddenly. Steve froze. "You, I still suspect of having sunstroke. Why do I suspect this? I will tell you why. Because you are standing outside my apartment, in the bright tropical sun, carrying a boombox. An honest-to-god boombox. Why have you brought me this object, Steven?"
"I'm here to serenade you," he admitted, caught off guard. Danny stared, apparently struck speechless. While that lasted, he added, "it was Gracie's idea."
"You are here to serenade me." He tapped his daughter on the shoulder. "Was this really your idea?"
"It always works in the movies."
"Huh." The glance Danny threw his way was entirely too knowing for Steve's comfort. Unfortunately, he didn't pick his firends for being stupid. "Okay. Serenade away, my friend. We're all ears, aren't we, Gracie?"
Perfect. He quickly ran through to lyrics in his head, reassuring himself that they were child-Williams-safe.
Then he pressed play.
He'd considered putting Rick Astley in, but Chin had almost laughed himself sick at the idea, and that had seemed like a bad sign. He thought it would've been funny, but Danny might not, so instead of eighties pop the song started with strings and trombones, and his target started grinning.
"Call me... irresponsible."
"When it comes to proper police procedure..."
"Call me... unreliable."
"Okay, only when it comes to doing paperwork."
"Throw in undependable too," he sang. Or at least attempted to sing; Gracie had joined in, and they had at least three keys going. "Do my foolish alibis bore you? Girl I'm not to clever I - I just adore you."
"I am so not the girl in this relationship," Danny grumped, but he was still grinning.
"So call me unpredictable, tell me I'm impractical, rainbows I'm inclined to pursue."
"If you take me hiking in search of rainbows, I'll tie your shoelaces together. All of them."
He continued, though they lost Grace to giggles, and Danny showed no signs of ending the commentary.
"Did Rachel put you up to this?"
"No, she did not," he replied when there was an instrumental break. Which, of course, prompted Gracie to turn traitor and tug on her dad's wrist.
"I heard Mommy helping him pick this song."
"This explains so much."
He glared, but kept singing. The upside to picking a Sinatra cover had to be that it was shorter, and before long the last notes quieted into the late-morning heat.
Danny gestured him closer. He went, still a little worried, since the I-am-ducking-my-head-so-I-don't-laugh-in-your-face thing could go either way.
"Steve. You are one of the most un-unreliable guys I know."
He figured that made it his turn to grin.
"So you forgive me for holding Roston out the window?"
"I am not going to even begin to list the number of suspect's rights statutes you violated there, much less laws, but yes, I forgive you. Sheesh."
"Yay!" Gracie filled in, and bounced in place. "Can Uncle Steve come teach us how to make crepes?"
"What makes you think your Danno doesn't already know?" Steve asked her, shepherding the group back inside. Danny bumped his shoulder as they went, their hands brushing.
"Because he tried putting pineapple in pancakes."
"She gets her detective skills from you, I see," he teased. His partner shot him a look that promised pure retribution.
"I'll show you detective skills. Later," the blond assured him cheerfully. "Now: how does the great Steven McGarrett make crepes?"
"A little sweet, a little spicy, and with pineapple inside," he replied, and winked at Grace. Later couldn't come soon enough for him, but for now, this would be a different kind of fun.