A/N: Yes, I am back so soon :D
Seemed like I couldn't stop writing yesterday night (?) when I published that other story. Nevermind uni is a bitch right now and I have zero time for this. Whatever.
Let me present to you a carsick Steve :D
Because, really, we saw he does get sick in that episode where Aunt Deb drove his car a bit too... adventurously...
I just couldn't resist

For once it was Danny who was driving the car - never thought he'd ever see that day. And they weren't even on a case. Nope, Steve and he had decided to take their free day and spend it in the mountains. Danny still wasn't a fan of surfing, but hiking through the dense forest on that island he now called home - he actually enjoyed that by now.

They had packed their stuff the day before directly after work because Steve had been Steve and insisted that he needed to supervise Danny's packing qualities.

Rucksacks thrown into Steve's truck and their shoes tied, the two of them had started their journey, with Danny behind the wheel.

The thing was that Danny had never driven Steve's truck before and it had been his birthday just some days ago and he had had that goofy smile and Steve had just kind of tossed him the keys.

Driving the Silverado and driving the Camaro were two very very different pairs of shoes - where as the Camaro was practically glued to the street, the Silverado felt like a bus. Danny loved it. He felt like he was sitting meters above the ground and thoroughly enjoyed driving the bulk of the car. He loved his Camaro, don't get him wrong, but every once in a while this was really nice.

He was so concentrated on pushing the car to its limits when he was taking the bends - man, that was a feeling he wasn't used to, having to work against the car to go where you wanted to go - that he noticed Steve's not-Steve-ness a lot later than he normally would have. Than he should have, let's be honest.

His partner was quiet, too quiet, right hand clutching the handle above the window so tightly that his knuckles were completely white.

"Hey, Steve, you all right?" Danny asked and glanced at him again.

"Yeah, sure. Just happy that you're enjoying yourself, Danno. Try to get us to the parking lot alive, okay?" Steve said and grinned at him in a way that screamed 'wrong!' to Danny.

He slowed down a bit so that he could look at his partner for a longer time and still drive safely.

"You sure?" Danny glanced at him again when Steve only hummed and took note of the lips that were pressed together, the sweat on Steve's forehead and the colour his face had taken on.

Shit. They were driving up a hill, and not slowly, and the bumpy road was the exact opposite of straight. Seemed like Steve hadn't been lying after all when he had told him he got carsick in that therapy session.

"Aww, babe, why didn't you say something? You need me to stop?" Danny asked and already looked for a place where he could safely pull over. That was the downside of the roads up here, they were mostly dirt roads so narrow that two cars could barely pass each other.

"'m good," Steve grunted with maximum effort to not open his mouth a millimeter more than absolutely necessary.

"Right. Listen, this wouldn't be the first time that I have to clean vomit out of the upholstery but trust me, it is not something I do for fun. And anyway, this is your car, so you'll have to deal with the stains."

Steve was by now reduced to yoga-breathing and trying desperately not to be sick right that moment, if Danny read him correctly. When he actually heard his partner whimper, he slowed down even more and tried to take the bends as gently as humanly possible.

"Hang on just a bit longer, okay? I've gotta find a place to pull over where we won't be run over," Danny said and couldn't help but glancing over for what felt like the hundredth time.

Steve looked bad. Like, really bad. He was pale with a greenish tint, sweat coating his face, mouth clenched shut and his eyes fixed on the horizon in hopes of tricking his stomach into submission.

"Hey, see that, babe?" Danny asked, pointing with one hand up the road. A couple of hundred meters in front of them, there was what seemed like a shoulder, probably made for when two bigger vehicles had to get past that point. It was perfect.

Danny got there as fast but steadily as he could, and swore that he never had parked a car that gently before.

He turned off the ignition, dealt with his seat belt and turned to look at Steve. He was still in his seat, the seat belt not yet unfastened, swallowing repeatedly.

Danny knew that feeling. It was that strange moment where you still had control over your body but felt like every little motion would set you off. Danny sighed, reached over to release Steve's belt and then got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side.

Opening the door, he tried to work out the logistics. If this had happened in his Camaro, it wouldn't have been a problem to just get Steve's feet out of the car and let happen whatever was about to happen, but this goddamned car war so high that even his giant of a partner couldn't reach the ground while sitting in it.

"Okay, Steve, you've gotta work with me, here. Try to hold on to your breakfast until you're out, all right?" Humor was always a way to deal, right?

Danny counted to three in his head, and then decided not to give Steve's stomach even more time to rebel. In one swift motion, he pulled his partner from his seat and onto the ground next to him, his grip on Steve's upper arms relentless.

Danny had thought that that jolt would do it, but he forgot how stubborn Steve was. He could see his throat working, the little colour he had had left was gone and actually saw a gag roll through Steve's body. But nothing happened. Steve the Super-SEAL was too proud to be reduced to a snotty mess next to the road because he couldn't handle a bendy road.

"Steve," Danny said, voice low and soothing. "It's all right. This is nothing you can decide against doing, okay? So you're not a fan of riding shotgun, so what? I don't like the beach, the sea, getting shot at, jumping out of a plane – there are a lot of things I don't like. My body doesn't like. And I can't do squat against that. Just as you can't help getting sick, okay? This is nothing to be ashamed of, babe. If you have to get it out, get it out, you'll feel better after."

For once in his life, Steve seemed to actually listen to his partner. He looked at Danny, those blue eyes wide open, like a deer caught in the headlights (not that that was actually possible on O'ahu) and seemed to find honesty somewhere in Danny's face as he then got out of the grip Danny had on him. Steve stumbled over to the nearest tree, both hands against the bark, propping him up took a deep breath and let his body take control.

Danny winced when Steve retched harshly and the first wave of vomit hit the ground. He grabbed the bottle of water Steve had in the passenger door and made his way over to the tree where Steve was busy getting sick again.

He put a hand between his partner's shoulder blades, slowly rubbing up and down, hoping to calm him down a little. Apparently Steve threw up the same way he did everything else in his life – loud, with his whole body and everything he got. The force behind the heaves rocked him forward every time and Danny had to fight the notion to grab Steve's forehead to keep him from smashing it into the tree.

"You're all right. Get it out. Try to breathe sometime, okay?" Whispering nonsense always worked with his kids when they were sick and he quickly learned that it also worked with SEALs. Slowly but surely, Steve calmed down, visibly fighting to get his stomach back under control.

He pushed himself off of the tree and took a step back from the mess he had just created.

"Let's get away from that, shall we?" Danny said more than asked and steered Steve several meters away, pushing him down to sit propped up against the tire of the Silverado.

He gave Steve the bottle of water, and watched his partner take a sip, swish it around in his mouth and then spit it back out. Steve grimaced, and Danny could literally see that he was about to pull up his shirt to wipe at his mouth and nose.

"Uh-uh. No way. Hang on a second," he said and rummaged around in his rucksack for a tissue. "Here you go, you Neanderthal."

Danny watched Steve trying to clean up a bit, get his game face back on. He sat down next to him, nudging his foot against Steve's.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Man, that sucked," Steve said and then grinned at Danny. "Not how you imagined the trip to start, huh?"

"Nope. Honestly, Steve, why'd you even let me drive? You know these roads, you had to know that your stomach wouldn't like that," Danny asked and looked at his partner again. Some colour had come back into his cheeks, he looked better already.

"You know me, Danno. Just can't say no," it was moments like these when Danny didn't know what to make of the comments. Steve said it with a cheeky smile on his face that could mean he was joking but the tone always suggested something else. Danny settled for huffing and then took a breath. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you told me you got carsick."

"Nah, it's no problem. I mean, I probably wouldn't have believed me. Seriously, a SEAL that gets sick because he's riding shotgun? That's ridiculous."

Anger welled up in Danny, sudden and fierce. "I bet your father was a great man, Steven, and I'm sure the Navy helped you through a lot of tough times, but this is one of those moments where I'd like to punch them both. And don't start telling me I can't punch the Navy – work with the metaphor. This is not a flaw. Or a weakness. It's something that can't be helped. Jesus."

This time it was Steve's turn to nudge Danny's leg, "Thanks, man."

"Just stating the truth," Danny replied and studied his partner's face once more. "Are you still up for the hike, though?"

Steve nodded and took another sip from the bottle, "Yeah, I'm good. Most of the times I feel better as soon as I get out of the car."

"Except for when you let it get this bad."

"Right."

Danny sighed. "I want you to promise me something. Whenever you feel sick, no matter why, you tell me. And not just half a second before you puke, but the moment you start feeling queasy."

Steve turned to look at him and squinted.

"I won't make fun of you, I promise."

Finally Steve nodded.

"Perfect. I take it you want to drive the rest of the way?"

Steve looked down at his hands that were still shaking subtly. He took a deep breath and without looking up he mumbled something along the lines of feeling too shaky to drive just yet.

Danny actually raised an eyebrow at that. Wow, get Steve to the point of puking and he was as open and compliant as you never got him.

"D'you want to stay here for a bit?"

"No, it's okay. I mean, as long as you drive a bit more considerately, I should be fine. And if not, I should have sick bags in there somewhere," Steve said, pushed himself to his feet and rummaged his way through the box he had on the truck bed. "Hah." He held up a small bag full of stuff triumphantly.

"What the hell is that?" Danny was actually fascinated. It was like Steve was still in the boy scouts.

"Carsickness-set. My dad, Mary and I started putting them together when I was a kid," Steve explained and waved Danny over to him. "Everything you could need: Dramamine, peppermint gums, disinfectant, wipes, bags. There were ginger crackers in there when I needed it regularly," Steve actually laughed at that.

"Excuse me. So you even have meds for this and you didn't take any?" Danny was feeling himself steering into the direction of another rant again.

" Hey, I didn't know you would drive. The Dramamine takes time to work and it makes you drowsy. That is not a good combination with going for a hike, trust me," Steve said, popped a gum into his mouth and made his way back to the front of the car, kit still in hand.

"I really don't want you to use those bags, you hear me? Just tell me if you need a break," Danny grumbled and got back into the car.

Steve nodded strapped himself in and put the carsickness-set into the glove box in front of him. "Just for emergencies, promise."

Danny nodded, drove back onto the road and swore to take every bend as gently as he could.

"Hey, Danno? Thanks, man."

Danny smiled and patted Steve's knee.

"Anytime, babe. I love you."

"Love you, too, Danno."