I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes: Missing (sort of) scene to 'Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la'au loa', S8 Ep11 (because Charlie's reaction about his Uncle Steve means something). It means even more to Danny. I guess this might be considered pre-slash (yeah, the saber toothed bunny had that mind-set), at least on Danny's part with where some of his thoughts seem to wind up. Though I guess, those thoughts could be considered smarmy, drug-induced thoughts too.

Written in one sitting - not beta'd - hopefully it makes sense.

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Danny stayed just a bit longer after Charlie fell asleep. He stayed there stretched out long beside his son, his fingers gently toying through the boy's hair while considering what Charlie not only had said, but what he'd done during the contrived Christmas tale. A story that Danny had intentionally altered, muddied and retold with a great many embellishments beyond the truth of the actual case his partner and team had just worked.

Danny hadn't thought anything of what he'd said at the time, nor of what he was building up to. It had all been for fun and to entertain the active mind of a six-year old. Even if it might be founded in some truth, he'd changed it up quite a lot. And it was a story after all. Charlie knew that it was mostly make believe and that his father was making things up as he went along, even making things up about his Uncle Steve ... but Danny stopped there again, unable to get further beyond thoughts of his partner.

Danny paused as he rehashed the truth behind the case and how it had all actually gone down. As Junior had related to him afterwards, things had been dicey for a while. Their perp had been waiting for Steve on that rooftop and Steve nearly had gotten his fool head blown off. Again. Despite that though and in true McGarrett form, Steve had prevailed.

Of course he had. Danny remembered listening and then moving on because what his partner had done or might have done hardly alarmed him by that point. Or did it? Danny hadn't been there this time; no one really had. No one Danny really trusted anyway. Suddenly lost right there as his stomach rolled uncomfortably, Danny's fingers stilled their movement within the fine strands of Charlie's blond hair.

Charlie had literally reacted in fear, hiding deep under his blankets when Danny had gotten to that part in the story. Why? Because even though kids liked shoot -em up stories - and Charlie was no exception to the rule - his Uncle Steve was the good guy in this particular tale and he was in danger. Charlie was afraid because ... the bad Santa knew that Steve was coming and was waiting for him.

Because right then, at that point in this partially made up story, Charlie sensed something of the truth. He'd sensed something of the real truth and had been scared that the bad guy was really going to hurt his Uncle Steve. If anything, Danny's lame explanation that Uncle Steve had literally talked the bad Santa into a bored sleep had made matters worse. Charlie's flat out 'No' to that excuse and his refusal to come out from under his blankets proved that easily enough.

Danny shook his head as he mentally rehashed and replayed Junior's words. The kid had been cocky, impressed - in awe of his new boss. Danny was lying to himself though about having moved on or not being alarmed by what he'd learned. Despite knowing the obvious outcome, he had been scared, too. Danny glanced down and studied the innocent face so lax and trusting in sleep. Charlie had been scared that the bad Santa might have hurt Steve or done even worse. His child's reaction to hide under the covers had been nothing but pure innocent, honesty.

And if he were to allow himself a similar level of truthfulness, Danny had felt a momentary flare of similar fear during that conversation with Junior. His partner easily could have gotten his damn-fool head blown off without proper back-up.

He automatically inhaled deeply then, intending to blow out a heavy sigh - a way to force himself to relax because he was getting worked up - but Danny wheezed to a pained halt as his healing lung instantly objected. Danny clutched at his chest, trying to fight back an urge to cough. Tears sprang to his eyes as he fought to control his breathing while struggling to get out of Charlie's bed as quietly as possible without waking his son.

Danny made the doorway blinded by tears, his fist to his mouth as the first garbled cough broke free. He awkwardly thumbed the light switch off, hunched over in agony as his chest seized. He coughed again, once then twice helplessly, one hand braced against the wall now as he aimed himself for the kitchen.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Danny ... easy." Danny startled at the soft sound of Steve's voice and he stumbled over his own two feet, literally falling into the wall which was his partner's chest. His forehead rested against that warmth for just a second as Steve wrapped his hands around Danny's biceps, effectively holding him up when his knees buckled. Unable to catch his breath, Danny gagged and moaned against the tightness in his chest, his vision dimming now from lack of oxygen as his throat closed up.

"Easy ... come on buddy, slow breaths ... nice and slow," Steve whispered desperately. "Shit, slow it down ... what happened? You okay? Where's your meds?" His tone was full of alarm as he tucked Danny to his side next, virtually carting him bodily now towards the living room sofa.

He was nauseous, dizzy and seeing a blanket of fake sparkling stars against a blackish haze as Steve sat him down, the two sitting close. Danny was still tucked tightly against Steve's side as his back was gently rubbed and soft words of advice were frantically whispered into his ear. As the coughing slowly subsided, Danny felt himself carefully tipped over, his feet swung up to where Steve had just been sitting. Weakened and helpless to argue, Danny closed his eyes against the dizzying blur as pillows were hastily propped under his neck and head, and a light blanket was draped over his legs. He panted, shallow careful breaths, upset by the wet whine in his lungs and the way his breathing was too slow to cooperate. But each tiny inhale and subsequent exhale were sending twinges of pain though his chest wall over and over again.

"Here, small sips," Steve coached softly as he held a glass of water to Danny's mouth. He waited patiently as Danny obliged his orders, hardly wetting his lips each time until he could catch his breath better.

"Meds? Can you take 'em yet? Pain meds, Danno?" Steve gently rubbed a circle on Danny's chest just off-center of the healing bullet wound, his hand warm and the sensation soothing in its repetition.

Eyes closed, Danny chuffed a small affirmative about the meds, hoping Steve would understand without actual words. Hoping more that Steve would stay right where he was; that he'd continue rubbing those same idle circles over his chest for just a bit longer. But Danny sensed the stalwart presence leave his side for the kitchen on a search for the pain medication. A moment later, a small pill was shoved into the palm of his hand and Steve was supporting his head, back with more water and whispering calming words.

"T-thanks," Danny squeezed out after he'd taken the pain medication. He squinted upwards, his vision still bleary from pain-prompted, spasmodic tears and managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It didn't work though. Steve was scared to death for him. In fact, Steve was on his knees right next to where Danny was now lying on the sofa, his expression full of worry and fear.

"Y'sure?" Steve asked quietly, unconvinced when Danny could only nod back. He scrubbed a hand over his face and into the sorry excuse of a buzz-cut he'd given to himself. Steve's eyes were glassy, worried. Danny had rattled Steve as good as he'd just rattled himself and frankly, Danny wasn't really going to be able to do or say anything which would make either one of them feel better for quite some time.

Danny blinked his eyes, fighting an urge to sink into sleep from being wrung out from the spasm because something very basic had just dawned on him. Though he could guess the reason, Danny didn't really know why Steve was in his house in the first place.

"W-w-why?" He started to ask and then quickly stopped when his voice cracked in warning. He gave out with a light cough and winced, the urge waning as soon as it had come on when he felt Steve's hand splay gently over his chest again. He stilled and then quieted more as Steve began to run his fingers in those small circles again. The gentle motion calmed Danny almost immediately and he sighed carefully, able to keep his breathing light and shallow, his eyes closing once more.

"Better?" Steve whispered as he picked up on Danny's content hum of approval.

'Why?' Danny mouthed the question now, tired and weak, but needing to know. Needing to hear it from Steve's own mouth. Maybe just needing to hear Steve's voice because he was as scared as Charlie had been.

"Try to rest, Danno," Steve said quietly. "Adam ... he called me before." He trailed his fingers soothingly back and forth across Danny's chest. Near the bullet wound but never too close. Round and round, then back and forth. A pattern of warmth which was calming, careful ... doting. Danny sighed unconsciously, sleep beckoning even more as Steve continued the repetitive motion.

"S-Steve," Danny's voice was scarcely audible. His lung pinged in warning and Steve shushed him as he likely read the distress which had to have flashed across his face. He had to stop talking before trying to get out another syllable. And what he wanted to say didn't really matter. Even if he could have safely strung more than two words together, Danny didn't know how to tell his partner more. He didn't know how to tell him what he was thinking; hell, Danny wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking either. Maybe it was the trauma of a near-death experience or the affects of the drugs he was still on. Did it matter? All Danny could do right then - all he wanted to do - was rock his head to meet Steve's other hand when it palmed some of his sweat-dampened hair to the side.

"I spoke to Adam ... and he said you weren't off your feet enough. With Charlie here, you couldn't rest or wouldn't rest ...," Steve explained in a nearly voiceless murmur. "So, I came by to help ... to make sure you were all right. And now? Now, I'm glad that I did ... so, sleep, buddy. I'm here if you or Charlie need anything. Okay?"

Danny nodded tiredly. He could hardly deny he needed the help. He wouldn't argue Steve's unexpected appearance or offer to stay that night because he selfishly needed Steve to be there. He wanted him to be there. Hell, the 'Uncle Steve' stocking hanging from his small mantle wasn't an accidental add just for his kids' sakes. It was there because Danny wanted it to be there, too.

He gave in to sleep with Steve's hand still on his chest keeping him anchored. Keeping them all safe.

~ End. ~