a/n: So, this is the SEQUEL to "A Cup of Sugar". This can definitely be construed as Pre-Slash, more so than the last fic, also flirting and innuendo.

Summary: Danny's trying to find a birthday present for Gracie, but gets sidetracked by the doll counterpart of his very own Pinocchio SEAL partner.

HAWAII . 5 - 0

Hey, Sugar

Danny was walking around the shops, looking for any ideas for what to get Grace for her birthday, when he came across a storefront window displaying dolls of various dress and appearance. He didn't think his daughter was into these kinds of dolls, made of porcelain and looked like they belonged to a corky Aunt's collection than something a little girl might play with, but he didn't think there was any harm in looking…

It still took him five-minutes of loitering outside before he finally managed to make himself go inside. The little bell chimed above the door as he went inside. He immediately faced shelves of displayed dolls as he stepped inside. It smelled like mothballs. Dolls, dolls, dolls. It was worse than any Haunted House he went in as a kid in New Jersey.

Danny had a little difficulty looking them in the eye. But his own eyes trained downward with furtive glances up as he slowly walked the aisle—he could feel their eyes following him. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge, the need, to take out his service weapon, to put something between him and them. Paranormal Activity, Ouija... none of those horror movies got to him—but Chucky? God. He shuddered a the thought. It was these kinds of dolls that were always in those kind of movies.

The hair on the back of his neck rose in sixth-sense warning. He raised his head—and met the yellow demon eyes with a red painted mouth.

"Wanna have some fun?"

Letting out a shout, he jolted backwards, away—and immediately into the crowded shelf behind him, his gun halfway out of his holster. It wobbled with the force of impact, knocking some of the dolls to the floor, but thankfully the shelves held firm.

Hand over his racing heart, he released his weapon and stared at the... clown doll grinning at him from the opposite shelf. "What the hell?" he muttered. It's colourful costume stood out amongst the other, shaded outfits of the other dolls.

"Howzit?"

"Oh!" Danny jerked around to the sound of the voice, this time, resisting the urge to pull his weapon. Further along what appeared to be a very long aisle was a Polynesian grandma shorter than him.

"Can I help you, young man?" she started shuffling down the aisle to him.

For some very good reasons, he was glad that it wasn't a man. That would just be too creepy for his taste. Danny took a deep breath and stooped, picking up the fallen dolls (that had thankfully not shattered like porcelain) and put them back on the shelf. "Yeah, sorry about that." He straightened.

"Um," he ran a hand over his hair. "It's my daughter's birthday soon and I saw your shop. I thought I'd have a look around and see if there were any dolls that she might like, and I came across... you friend here." He explained politely, gesturing to the clown that stared at him from the eye-level shelf. Now clowns? They just gave him the heebie-jeebies. He couldn't even make it through It as a kid.

"Oooh," Grandma stopped next to him, peering up at the clown with fondness. "You've meet Steven!"

"Excuse me," Danny sputtered, "Steven?"

Grandma nodded. "He's been with me the longest. He's not the most popular." Yeah, it was obvious why. "He looks a little crazy—but once you get to know him—you can't leave him along for a minute." She cooed.

Danny blinked at the description. And he looked at 'Steven' a different light. The doll's namesake had similar symptoms. Maybe, the clown had turned into a real-boy called Steve McGarrett. An utterly insane and unconscionable idea took him. "I'll take him!" he blurted.

Grandma gave him a gummy smile, delighted. She reached up and took the clown down from the shelf and handed it to the detective.

Danny smiled back at her as he took the doll that had nearly made him shoot the place up. "He reminds me of someone I know... Steven." He grinned.

He soon left the shop with his purchase, leaving behind a very happy Grandma. He'd just go to the pet shop and get Grace a fish or hamster or something. If he even thought the word dog, Rachel would string up him up. Better to start small.

0 - xH5Ox - 0

The moment Steve stepped into his darkened home, his Super SEAL Senses kicked in. He slipped his service weapon from his thigh-holster smoothly, thumbing the safety off as he brought the gun eye-level.

He missed the pair of chukkas in the shadow of the mat at the door completely—intruders didn't usually take off their shoes before they invaded.

He cleared the whole first level, treading lightly, his eyes adjusted to the dim of the interior with the clear silver moonlight leaking through the shades. He started up the stairs, knowing exactly where to step to avoid the creak of the worn wood that he'd grown up running up and down. Spare bedrooms, clear. Bath, clear. He slowly pushed open his cracked bedroom door.

"Hey, sugar! Wanna play?"

The bedroom lightly flicked on. He was blinded for an instant before he saw the demon sitting on the middle of his bed, propped up in front of his pillows.

"Hey, sugar! Wa—"

Steve just reacted. There was no thought, just pure defensive instinct. He pulled the trigger three times in half the seconds; two in the small chest, and one in its evil face. Porcelain shattered as the gunshots rang to silence. Adrenaline raced in his ears. His chest heaved as if he'd just fought off a shark.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" Danny exclaimed, suddenly coming out of the shadows.

Steve spun around, directing the gun at the shorter man, still in fight-or-flight mode before he recognized the man an instant after. He whipped the gun down and pointed at the floor, flicking the safety back on, and breathing heavily. "What the hell, Danny!" he shouted. He tucked his weapon back into the holster. He didn't have to worry about police intervention. If his far away neighbours even heard the shots, they were pretty used to the battlefield of the McGarrett house.

"You killed him!" Danny cried in dismay as he climbed onto Steve's bed in socked-feet and took the broken doll into his lap. "All he did was wanna play."

Steve stared. "Danny, what the hell is that thing?"

"The Grandma at the shop call him 'Steven'. Said he was highly unlikable and had been on the shelf since she opened. He reminded me of you,"

"Thanks," Steve said sarcastically. His tone instantly changed, "Why are you here? I could have killed you!" Danny scoffed at that last part. "Daniel!" he said sharply.

Danny rolled his eyes at him over his shoulder. "You weren't going to shoot me. But why did you have to shoot 'Steven'?" he glared as he turned on the bed and sat.

"Don't call that... that thing by my name." He protested.

"He was 'Steven' well before you were. This was you before you turned into a real-boy." Danny leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed as he looked back on the memory fondly, "I remember it like it was yesterday... I got shot because you went all Super-Crazy-Unhinged-SEAL and started a shootout—and I punched you, turning you into the boy your are today!" he looked back at him, making a sweeping gesture at him.

"It was a graze," Steve automatically corrected, remembering the day himself. That punch had nearly had him on his knees. He knew if he didn't draft Danny onto Five-0, he'd regret it. He hasn't, but other things, well... "I was not that thing before I met you, Danno. You give yourself too much credit."

"Not enough credit." Danny chuckled and wagged his head. "But I still have work to do."

Steve watched the blond, hand on his belt. "So, what exactly are you doing here, Danny? Why did you put that demon doll in my bed?" he made a gesture, "What was the plan here?"

"Definitely not for you to shook him." Danny pointed out. He shifted into a more comfortable position on Steve's bed. Definitely more comfortable than his. He'd finally replaced the horrid pullout, but it categorically had nothing on Steve's. Was this thing memory foam? "Look at him." He held out up 'Steven,' who dangled limply and broken in him hands, "You shot his face off!"

Steve curled his lip as he looked at it. "Should have done more than that," he muttered. "Say, you wouldn't let me burn that, would you?"

"Steven!" Danny gasped at him, hugging 'Steven' to his chest.

"Was that for me or it?" Steve wondered rightly. "'Cause it's a little hard to keep up. And you still haven't explained exactly what you're doing here."

"I was looking for a present for Gracie's birthday," he explained, "And I saw the shop. Wanna have some fun?" he mimicked the clown's original voice from the little speaker inside of it pretty well and both men shuddered. Danny laughed. "You have no idea! Anyway, she said his name was 'Steven' and I thought I found you a kindred spirit."

"I bet Kamekona knows an exorcist," Steve mused to himself. "Do you think it's too late to call?" He was only half serious. Danny shot him a look. "Right," Steve sighed. "So you got a demon child from hell that was named before me, and decided what...? Break into my house and tuck it in?"

"You break into my place all the time!" Danny protested. "The only difference is I didn't almost shoot your face off."

"Yeah, I find that a little concerning, Danny," Steve admitted and criticized, "How you react to intruders—you just roll over and go back to sleep."

"Are you serious?" Danny wondered loudly. "You're criticizing me because I haven't pulled my gun on you? I know it's you, Steve. You're the only one who breaks into my apartment!"

"And what if it's not?" Steve said angrily. "What if you get hurt—"

"I'm a cop, Steven. I know how to protect myself when I'm actually in danger." Danny reminded him in a tone that suggested he was talking to a child.

Steve growled. "I can't talk to you while you're holding that thing!" he grabbed 'Steven' roughly from his hands and threw it out the open bedroom door and into the hall with a shattering thud.

"Steve!" Danny protested. "I was going to take him back to Grandma and see if she could salvage 'Steven's' face." He went to get up from the bed, but Steve put a hand flat on his chest and pushed him back down.

"I'm burning that thing, end of discussion." Steve said firmly.

"But he's mine!" Danny protested childishly. Steve rose his brow. "Well he is. I bought him, so therefore, he's my property. I own him. He's mine." He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Why was it in my bed?" Steve wondered.

"I wanted to show you!" there was a pout. "I said kindred spirit, didn't I? He's your Pinocchio."

Steve glowered at him. "I was a 'real-boy' before I met you, Danny." He sighed heavily.

"Uh-huh." The man's tone clearly stated he didn't believe the SEAL. "If you didn't shoot his face off, if you met him... you would see what I'm talking about."

"Okay." Steve took a deep breath. This was seriously starting to freak him out, and there wasn't much that did that anymore. "You're really starting to freak me out, Danno. You're talking about that clown as if it's real. As if it's... me."

"Okay, look. Here's the thing," Danny held up his hands. "I know I sound a little crazy, okay? Maybe—Maybe," he stressed the word, "You're slightly right about this, okay? So. I've been a little lonely with hardly getting to see Grace. And my apartment sucks. And I've been a little homesick for Jersey—"

"We're Ohana, Danny." Steve told him gently. "How many times do I have to say it before it gets through that hair of yours and you believe it?"

Danny licked his lips. "I know."

"Good," Steve nodded. "Now, anything else?"

"Okay. Now listen..." Danny shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay." Steve shifted his stance and took a readying breath. "Let's hear it," he made a bring-it gesture.

"Imighthavesleptwith'Steven'inmybed." Danny told him really quickly, an embarrassed cringe on his lips.

"What?!" he exclaimed, easily able to decipher Danny's fast-talk by now.

"It only happened once," he held up a finger. "Once..."

"I can't believe you slept with that monstrosity!" Steve exploded, glaring into the hall where he could just make out the thing's arm in the square of the light from the room. He resisted the very heavy urge to put his SIG and empty the clip into the demon clown.

"Oh, Steven." Danny suddenly grinned, his blue-gaze lighting, "Jealous of something?"

Steve gave him a heated glare. "How exactly could you think I would like that in my bed?"

"I know you don't like being left in a room with yourself," he informed gently, "But I like you just the way you are." Danny smiled. "The 'wooden' version," he glanced sadly into the hall. "And the real-boy version." He looked back at Steve.

Steve stared back for a moment. "Yeah," his voice might have crack a little. "Me, too."

"So, you're going to pay for 'Steven,' right?" Danny wondered innocently, trying to ease the stiff SEAL back into the comfort of their usual report. "He wasn't cheap, you know."

"No." Steve snapped instantly. "I said I was burning the demented creature."

"Worth a try," Danny sighed. "I guess you'll be happy to know he was one of a kind. I searched through the entire shop and couldn't find another—so you don't have to go all Terminator and track them down and destroy them."

Steve smirked. "Talking about me again?"

Danny smirked back. "No. The Navy SEAL mould is a reproduction line of like toys."

"Ha ha. I'm special and you know you love me."

"Aw, Steven." Danny replied softly, his hand over his heart. "You pull the words right out of my heart and put them in my mouth."

Steven crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you staying over, Danno?"

"Is that a proposition, McGarrett?" Danny fell back onto the bed, propping his head into his elbow, and wagged his brows suggestively with humor at the man.

"It's not a proposition. I'm not that easy to get into bed as your new friend 'Steven'."

Danny laughed. "I was right, you are jealous!"

Steve snorted. "Of a demented doll? No thank you. I have a spare bedroom," he gesture at the door, "Get off mine and go there."

"No, thanks. I'm quite comfortable here." Danny declined civilly. "I'm actually surprised it's so comfy. I thought that they programmed SEALs to like beds of nails. Have at the guest bedroom yourself," he waved at the door, "that you're raving about."

"This is my house," Steve said.

Danny just sat up, undid the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled it off overhead, dropping it onto the floor next to the bed, leaving him in his white undershirt. Next, he undid his belt and zipper, lifted his hips, and shed his slacks, leaving him in his boxers and socks.

"You're actually serious!" Steve exclaimed.

Danny paused and gave him a stare. He deadpanned, "You stalk me in my sleep. What do you think?" he climbed under the covers. "Night."

"You think I'm just going to let you jack my bed?" he demanded. "Then you don't know me at all, partner." He kicked off his boots, and stepped on the toes of his wool socks to get them off. Walking around to the opposite side of the bed from Danny as the other man watched him impassively. He unclipped the holster from his thigh, went to his nightstand, switched it to a full clip before he put the weapon to bed within easy reach. He shed his sweaty tee and his cargo pants, leaving him in just a pair of boxer-briefs—and he climbed into his own bed with Danno.

Steve smirked at him. "Night, Danno." He went to turn the lamp off.

"Wait." Danny sat up, and Steve thought the man was going to concede and leave for the guestroom—he couldn't have been more off-base. "What about 'Steven'? We can't just leave him out in the hall!" he threw back the covers and went to throw his legs over the side.

Steve grabbed a handful of his shirt, and wrenched the shorter man back into the bed and almost on top of him. "That thing is going to be ashes in the wind in the morning, you better make peace with it, because I won't hear another word on it." He used his Commander-voice. "We're going to bed." He then proceeded to tuck the blond into bed roughly.

"Easy with the hands!" Danny protested at the man-handling. "Jeez, remind me to give you a few lessons before you go and have kids. To subject such innocence to such terror?" he shook his head. "Tuck-in's are an art form!"

"Do you want me to read you a story, too, Danno?" Steve turned off the lamp.

"Hell, no!" Danny replied to his mocking seriously. "You're a terrible story-teller. Wanna have some fun?" he repeated with scorn and a scoff. "Please. You're a stick in the mud. You tell stories like you're giving a mission report."

"Wait," Steve said, "Wanna have some fun. That crime against everything in the entire world didn't say that. It said: Hey, s—"

"Hey, sugarrr! Wannaa plaaaaay?" Both men jumped at the crooked, distorted recording that voiced from the hall before 'Steven' finally bit the bullet Steve put into him.

"I knew I should have emptied my clip into that creature when I had the chance!" Steve cursed.

"Oh, Steven." Danny mourned. "The last words he'll ever say."

"God, Danny." Steve muttered. "You fell under its evil spell. Why do you think it was a good idea to put that thing in my bed—and make it say that? Hey, sugar. Wanna play? That sound's very suggestive, Danno."

"Get you're head out of the trenches, McGarrett." Danny rolled his eyes. "When you went psycho-SEAL and tried to make your own bomb—you took all my sugar!" he ranted. "You woke me up at 4 a.m. and left me no sugar to put in my coffee. I had to drink that stuff straight!" he shuddered at the memory. "And, so maybe this was a little bit about payback…"

Steve laughed. "That's what this is about?"

"Yes, that's what this is about!" he snapped. "It was a serious offence. Stop laughing!"

But Steve just kept laughing. "You're one of a kind, Danno!"

"Alright, alright. Okay. Enough already." Danny muttered. "Laugh it up, McGarrett. Just wait. You're the one that jumped into my arms because your look-alike scared you a wittle." He baby-talked him. Steve whacked him precisely in the darkness. "Ow!" Danny swatted back at him. "Partner abuse!"

"Alright. Calm down. Don't get too excited." Steve nudged him over back to his side of the bed. He wasn't going to say anything.

"You're the worst bed-partner, you know that?" Danny complained at the continuous man-handling. "Don't you know how to sleep with someone platonically? You're all grabby!" he turned onto his side, his back to Steve and his knees tucked in.

"Good night, Danno." There was quiet amusement in his tone.

"Night." Danny shifted to get more comfortable.

Steve felt material brush his leg. "Are you wearing socks?" he wondered.

"Are you wearing socks, he says." He muttered. "Yes, I'm wearing socks! I get cold feet, okay? It's a medical condition, alright?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Medical condition, huh?" he managed to say in a straight voice. "Better keep an eye on that, Danno. Don't want it to get out of foot."

"Oh, the SEAL suddenly has a 'sense' of humour. Four-years of real-boyhood right on schedule, ladies and gentlemen. Now shut up, I'm trying to sleep over here, Steven."

Danny shifted again and this time Steve felt his feet pushing against his legs— seeking warmth. Steve grinned into the darkness and didn't comment, just let his partner get comfortable.

"Night, sugar." He whispered, working to hold back the bark of laughter.

Danny kicked him and hid his smile in the pillow.

f

HAWAII . 5 - 0

Check out the morning-after scene for this shot next, called: "A SPRINKLE OF SUGAR."

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