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Steve McGarrett was just about to head out to a bar to drown his sorrows at being alone for Valentine's Day and maybe find some company when he got a text from his partner, Danny Williams.

Wanna get together?

I thought you had a date Steve texted back.

She cancelled. So, we on?

That was certainly a much better offer than sitting alone in a bar, and much better company than anyone he'd find there. Steve didn't allow him to think about what kind of "company" he wanted from Danny.

Sure. Beer and pizza at my place?

There was a pause before Danny's response.

Actually, I have reservations. Be a shame to waste them.

Steve felt a flutter in his stomach. He tamped it down. Danny was just being pragmatic. It wasn't actually a date, was it?

Sure he texted back.

Great. –Steve tried not to read relief in that response.—Pick you up about 7? Dress nice—no cargoes!

Steve had to grin, but he also had to wonder just where Danny had gotten reservations. Certainly sounded like a romantic evening. Why would he want to share it with Steve, pragmatism or not? It wasn't like Danny was out anything if he canceled. It's not a date, it's not a date, it's not a date, Steve told himself.

Sure. See you then.

Steve agonized over what to wear. He didn't want to be too dressy, but he didn't want to be underdressed, and, let's face it, he wanted to impress Danny. He tried on what had to be his sixth outfit. He didn't think Mary Ann spent this much time getting ready for a date.

Finally, he settled on black dress pants and a purple button-down shirt. He thought about wearing a tie (yes, contrary to popular belief—i.e. Danny's—he did in fact own a tie—several, actually), but decided Danny would die of shock. He debated a jacket and decided not to put one on, but to bring his black blazer downstairs just in case.

Danny rang the doorbell at precisely 7 o'clock (which amazed Steve—Danny always just barged in). He's just being polite (for once). It's not a date, Steve reminded himself. Steve had been pacing his living room for the past 15 minutes repeating that to himself like a mantra.

Steve opened the door and gaped at his partner. Danny looked amazing—gray slacks, blue shirt that exactly matched his eyes (and Steve wanted to know where exactly he'd found it—he'd buy Danny a dozen just to see him in them every day), blue and gray striped tie (of course), and gray jacket (good thing Steve had grabbed the blazer).

Danny smirked at Steve. "See anything you like?"

Steve pulled himself together. "You look great, Danny."

"Thanks." Danny ran his eyes appreciatively over Steve. "You clean up pretty good yourself. You ready?"

It's not a date, it's not a date, it's not a date, Steve repeated mentally.

Steve automatically held his hand out for the keys, but Danny snatched the away. "Ah, ah, ah. This is my show. I'm driving."

It's not a date. It's not a date.

Steve acquiesced (more or less graciously), and got in the passenger seat, trying not to twitch at the unfamiliar sensation. To his surprise, Danny drove them out of the city to a small inn on a cliff with attached restaurant. Steve had a feeling Danny had been anticipating a little more than just dinner. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen, no matter how much Steve wanted it to. It's not a date.

Danny came around and opened the door for Steve, surprising him (it's not a date). They walked into the restaurant. Danny gave his name to the maître d', and they were led to a candlelit table in the back overlooking the ocean. The view was breathtaking, and Steve let out a whistle.

"You go all out, don't you? Melissa doesn't know what she's missing."

A look Steve couldn't place flitted over Danny's face. "Yeah, well, her loss." He passed a menu to Steve. "Order what you want. It's on me."

It's not a date.

"You don't have to do that," Steve protested.

Danny shrugged. "Hey, I signed up for the Valentine's experience, and I'm going to get it, even if I have to share it with my Neanderthal partner. I mean, have you even ever been in a place with cloth napkins?" He grinned to take the sting out of his words.

Steve pretended to be affronted. "You wound me, Danno. I've been to classy restaurants before. I can eat with a fork and everything."

Danny laughed. They lapsed into companionable silence while they perused their menus. Once they'd ordered, Steve leaned back in his chair. "So, why did Melissa bail on you?"

Danny wouldn't look him in the eye. "Actually, we broke up. Too many secrets between us, she said. I guess I can't blame her."

Steve had a sudden flash of insight. It is a date. "This wasn't just today, was it?"

Danny still refused to look at him. "No, it was a couple of weeks ago."

Steve knew he shouldn't push it, but he had to be sure. "So, why didn't you find some other woman to go with you?"

Danny fiddled with his napkin. "No one was interested, I guess."

"I know plenty of women who'd love to go out with someone as nice and good-looking as you," Steve said. Whoops, that might be a little too revealing—that kind of honesty wasn't something they indulged in. But if Danny was laying it on the line, then Steve could, too. "If I was a woman, I'd love to go out with you." He took a deep breath and said what was on his mind. "I'd love to go out with you, period."

Danny laughed nervously. "Don't look now, but I think you just did."

Steve looked around the cozy, intimate dining room and out at the view. "If this is how you treat all your dates, I'll go out with you any time."

It was Danny's turn to take a deep breath. "Would you? Go out with me, I mean?" He finally looked Steve in the eye, and Steve could see the love—and the fear—in them.

Steve reached across the table and took Danny's hand. "You mean a second date?"

Danny looked relieved. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Steve squeezed Danny's hand. "I'd love to."

A/N: I'm planning on developing this story line, and I have a second chapter in mind (though this one didn't come out quite the way I intended, so I'll have to tweak it), but I don't really know where I'm going. Suggestions are welcome.