Steve McGarrett

Steve was sitting out on the beach with a huge bottle of water, recovering from the triathlon that morning. His eyes were mostly closed, but every now and then they opened to check his phone. Nahele had promised to be there at the finish line, but he hadn't been, and--more unlike him--he hadn't called or texted to explain where he was.

Steve was giving him another half hour, and then he was going to start calling in favors from HPD to check on the kid.

[OOC: for that partner and then plotty goodness from season 6.]

Steve had been dragging Danny through the Baltimore Aquarium (look, sharks were awesome, it was just demonstrable fact) when his phone rang.

"McGarrett," he replied, frowning lightly, and then harder as his listened.

"Danno, we gotta go," he said, taking off towards the truck. "The fake feds've kidnapped Parrish's daughter."

Baltimore on the weekend before St Patrick's Day was busy and drunk, and the Federal Hill neighborhood was jammed full of people in green t-shirts swinging around glasses of beer and singing off-key. Steve and Danny were tracking down a lead from the felon who'd carjacked them last week but--and this was the very annoying part--might not have actually committed the crime he'd run from.

Steve was blending in with the locals wearing a shirt Danny had bought for him and had manfully avoided getting punched in the still sore ribs by making any leprechaun jokes about Danny.

He swatted off a person with a "Kiss Me, I'm Drunk" shirt and glanced around for street signs. "We have to be close to where his daughter lives."

Whether she'd be home or not was a question for later.

Steve wouldn't say he jumped at the chance to flee the frigid East Coast to head back to Five-0 for some case follow-up, but almost sunny and 80 degrees didn't hurt, either. They arrived to find that Chin had taken Grover spearfishing, so that gave them time to grab a distinctly Hawaiian brunch at Rainbow.

Steve was happily munching away on his loco moco in the truck's driver's seat and bopping his head to Springsteen on the radio (you're welcome, Danny) until his phone chimed with a message from Chin. "What the hell?" he muttered, frowning hard.

[for that guy.]

In Steve's opinion, it was never too cold to grill, and so he was out on the lanai with his giant puffy coat and a pair of flip flops, flipping steak. (He was also grilling vegetables, but it was the steak he was actually excited about.)

"Danno!" he called back into the house, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard through the glass door, "two minutes!"

Steve was getting rid of his residual hangover (old Navy SEAL buddies went hard on Veterans Day and he didn't bounce back quite as quickly as he did in his twenties) with a dinner heavy on chicken breast and vegetables, lots of water and no beer.

Being a responsible adult was the worst.

"Danno," he called, plating up the quinoa, "chow time."

[OOC: For the partner who is gonna be thrilled about quinoa.]

Steve had been decompressing from his time in Morocco by avoiding all of the messy, gross emotions that seeing his mother again after years had roiled up and throwing himself into exercise and cleaning instead. The fridge had been reorganized and so had the closets. Windows had been grouted, the furniture on the lanai had been hosed down, and Steve had chosen to take a long, cold swim before coming home immediately after his shift at the station because he still had energy buzzing under his skin.

Avoiding Danny was stupid, though, so he finally headed back to their apartment. He hadn't brought food with him: Danny had worked through his own stress while Steve had been gone by restocking the freezer with more matzo ball soup and spaghetti sauce than the two of them could eat in a year.

"Danno?" he called as he came in.

The kids were here, which meant it was homemade pizza night. And since there was already going to be flour everywhere, Danny had decided this was as good a time as any to teach Charlie how to make Danny's grandma's challah.

Steve had maybe underestimated what "flour everywhere" was actually going to look like.

"Daniel, I found flour in the bathroom," he said, coming out of said room. "It's slowly taking over our lives."

Steve wasn't going to let small things like "bugs" and "humidity" and "93 degrees in the shade" stop him from getting out into nature over the weekend. Fresh air was important! You coudn't just stay inside from May until November!

Danny may have had other thoughts, but Steve had stopped listenng to those thoughts about an hour into their hike today. Steve opened the door to their apartment and let the cold air wash over them as they went inside.

"I'll grab us a couple of waters," he said, heading for the kitchen.

[OOC: For the guy!]

Right, looking back with the benefit of hindsight, going on a murder mystery dinner date was probably going to be a terrible idea. (But wearing 1940s clothing was awesome.) Steve glanced at his reflection in the mirror as they looked for their seat. "I look amazing," he said modestly. He winked at Danny. "You're not bad either."

[OOC: For the partner in what will definitely turn into a crime. Because their lives.]