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“Goddammit! Stephen! Let go! How the hell do you expect me to help---gak! Steve, get your damned tentacles out of my pockets!” Danny barks as he struggles valiantly, but is no match for a Steve sized cephalopod with eight very clingy tentacles.
It looks like he is going to have to resign himself to sitting drenched in the bathtub being held prisoner by a very sulky octopus for the time being. An octopus with no concept whatsoever of personal space. His good shoes are never going to be the same and Kono is no help at all because she is still rolling on the bathroom floor laughing. He scowls and smacks away the tip of the tentacle that is busily trying to unknot his tie. Shit like this never happens in Jersey.
Danny tries to struggle upright again, only to be firmly tugged back into an eight-limbed embrace, sprawled awkwardly on top of Steve in the tub. If he didn’t know better he would swear that Steve was pouting. The tub really isn’t large enough for both of them and a few of Steve’s tentacles are spilling out. Danny splashes and curses for a minute before giving up. One of Steve’s tentacles pats him lovingly on the head.
“Damn it, Kono! Get your ass off the floor and give me a hand here before I drown!”
Kono wipes tears of laughter off her face and stands gracefully.
“Oh, Danny, the boss would never hurt you.”
She leans over and reaches out to lend Danny a hand, only to be gently picked up by two tentacles and set firmly back well out of reach. Apparently Steve octopus is jealous and possessive as well as handsy.
“l don’t think he’s going to let you go anytime soon.”
Danny huffs out a breath and tries one more time to unwind the tentacles wrapped like a living seat belt around his waist, only to have them gently tighten and two more slither solidly around his legs. The sneaky tie tentacle is back as well, and he swats it away again. It’s kind of like being trapped in a giant, wet, rubber beanbag chair with arms. Yet another tentacle is now gently exploring his hair. He bats irritably at it and scowls up at Kono’s smiling face.
“Where the hell is Chin?”
A muffled snort from the door is his answer and he wonders how long Chin Ho Kelly has been standing in the hall silently laughing his ass off at him. Quite a while, judging from the broad smile Chin can’t quite hide. It’s not Danny’s fault. It’s damned difficult for a man to maintain his dignity when sitting in a bathtub embraced by a man-sized octopus.
“Well? Well? Did you find out how long this stupid spell lasts?”
Danny demands, momentarily distracted by the tentacle tip that is currently delicately trying to explore his ear canal. He slaps it away and glares expectantly up at his teammate.
Chin flashes a surprisingly boyish grin down at him.
“Mr. Takimoto says that according to his research, the curse should wear off in about 24 hours.”
Danny sighs in relief. Thank God, now he won’t have to invest his pitiful life savings in an enormous salt-water aquarium.
Maybe now Stephen J. McGarrett I-know-what-I’m-Doing-Danno, will fucking listen to his partner when Danny warns him not to be poking his nose in various odd, carved boxes and creepy old books in occult shops. Especially occult shops that have various protective wards on them. One second Steve had been frowning down into a carved wooden box, the next splat, he had been flailing around on the floor waving all eight limbs frantically.
A hysterical, but fast thinking Kono and Danny had hauled him onto a plastic tarp, into the back of Steve’s truck and while Kono splashed him with water from a cooler all the way, Danny drove like a bat out of hell to Steve’s house where they hauled his tentacled ass into the full bathtub. Danny hopes Steve’s truck smells like fish now. It serves him right for nearly giving Danny a heart attack.
He sighs and rubs tiredly at his eyes. Steve gives him a comforting little squeeze and he pats the nearest tentacle, manfully ignoring the “aw how cute” look on Kono’s face. He folds his arms across his chest and scowls. This is his glamorous life in Hawaii, sitting soaking wet in a bathtub with a partner who has temporarily sprouted tentacles. Boy, he should go on Oprah with this story. Not. This is one story that he is never ever going to tell the folks back home. His mom would rupture something and die of laughter. He is jolted out of his brooding by Chin’s serious tone.
“Danny, we have to find a larger place for him until he changes back. Octopuses have gills and usually can only survive out of salt water for a half hour or so.”
Alarmed at that thought, Danny clutches Steve’s nearest tentacle in a death grip, ignoring how Steve happily squeezes him back---with all eight arms. He thinks hard and fast. He immediately dismisses the idea of just dumping Steve into the ocean outside of the house. Not only are the next door neighbors hosting a fancy beach wedding today, but there is a spear fishing contest in progress in the cove as well and Danny would never forgive himself if Steve ended up as sushi. Besides, they are not sure exactly how much octopus Steve remembers of being human Steve.
“Okay, we have full immunity and means, right? Right. Chin wrangle us the private use of a tank at the zoo or Sea Life Park, a damned aquarium, somewhere, with gallons of salt water. Kono—get us transport, a truck with a tank in back, something.”
As his teammates hurry to obey Danny struggles to a standing position and yells after them.
“Kono get someone to help us lift Commander Octopus out of this damned tub! Ack!” He squawks as he is cut off in mid yell with a splash as Steve firmly yanks him back down into the tub.
Danny curses and wriggles for a few minutes before surrendering and sagging soggily back into a surprisingly cozy eight-armed embrace. Shit. How is this his life now? Now he is worried about whether his octopus, err, his partner is going to survive this little fiasco. Steve certainly doesn’t appear to be on the verge of cephalopod suffocation, he seems lively enough and is happily exploring…Danny yelps and yanks the tentacle that is slyly sliding under his shirt out, shakes it reprovingly and smacks it firmly.
“Bad! Bad octopus! Steve you are going to be so embarrassed when you change back it isn’t even funny!”
Steve withdraws his tentacle in a huff and slaps angrily at the water of the tub.
Great, now Commander Octopus is pouting. Speaking of embarrassment, he just has to try and get a couple of pictures for blackmail purposes before Steve changes back. He gropes for his phone, only to have a tentacle pop over his shoulder and generously offer it to him. Two others appear and offer him his keys and wallet. Awesome, now his octopus partner is a pickpocket as well. Danny curses again when he discovers his phone is soaking wet.
“You owe me a new phone, McGarrett!”
Steve gives him a happy squeeze, apparently delighted that Danny is talking to him again. Danny wonders just how much Steve understands now that he is a cephalopod. He obviously recognized Danny and his team. Danny tries to remember what he once watched on a Discovery Channel episode about undersea creatures. Cephalopods are supposed to be very intelligent. He decides on an experiment. He twisted around, trying to see Steve’s ‘face’ or at least his eyes. Hell, he didn’t think octopuses even had ears, but he gave it a try anyway.
“Steve, do you understand what I’m saying?”
A tentacle tip curled up and gently touched his mouth. Apparently, Steve did understand him. Maybe the hex or curse gave him ears or something. Just to be sure, Danny decided to ask a few more questions.
“If you understand me, slap the water once for no and twice for yes.”
A tentacle immediately and enthusiastically slaps the water twice—right under Danny’s nose. He coughed and sputtered and pushed a couple of tentacles and his own wet hair aside so he could wipe his eyes.
“Thanks. You wanna maybe let me go now?” he asks hopefully.
A tentacle decisively slaps the water hard—once. No.
Danny sighs. Okay, so maybe Steve octopus isn’t so smart after all. Or…maybe Steve is just afraid he will be left alone if he lets go of Danny. Steve is kind of agitated, Danny can tell, because the tentacles not wrapped stubbornly around Danny are now churning the water restlessly. Danny strokes the nearest tentacle—the one wrapped around his waist--soothingly.
“I’m not going to leave you, you big lunk, but you’ll need to let me up before they get back with the truck, okay? Okay, Steve?”
Steve remains mutinously silent. He is definitely sulking now. Danny huffs out an exasperated breath and twists and tries again to see Steve’s eyes. Steve clamps his tentacles decisively tighter. Danny sighs and pats Steve again.
“Look buddy, I am not going to leave you like this. When we get you to the aquarium I’ll stay with you until you change back. I promise.”
He waits for a few minutes. Steve is curiously still, like he is thinking things over. Finally, the tentacles encircling Danny’s waist slowly relax and uncoil. Danny cautiously stands and steps out of the tub, careful of his bad knee and the wet floor. He slips a bit anyway on the tile and several tentacles immediately whip out and steady him.
“Thanks, partner.”
He wobbles and squelches his way over to the bathroom mirror to straighten his tie, and really, he looks like he was just, well, octopus wrestling, because he is soaked to the skin. Danny scowls at his reflection and turns to shake an irritated finger at his partner.
“You owe me new shoes too, Stephen. And no, we are not writing it off expenses, its coming out of your pocket, Super SEAL, because you do not listen to me when I tell you to stop poking your nose where it does not belong, buddy! This curse thing could have been a lot worse! You could have been turned into a giant clam or a jellyfish...”
He is stopped in mid-rant when a tentacle whips out of the tub and coils gently around his arm, then slides down to clasp his hand and give it an affectionate squeeze.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
He squeezes back and he is definitely not still holding tentacles with Steve when Kono and Chin get back.
Chin manages to wrangle the use of a tank at a private research facility and Kono has enlisted Kamakona and two of his equally stout cousins for octopus transport. Danny manfully refrains from shooting them all because he may not speak Hawaiian or Pidgin, but he sure as hell knows when someone is wisecracking about the way Steve clings to him on the drive over, one or two tentacles clasped firmly around Danny’s arm at all times. Of course they don’t know its Steve, thank God, and God only knows what they think of 5-0 secretly transporting a huge octopus across the island. Maybe they believe he’s in witness protection or something.
The tank actually turns out to be a huge, very nice glass-walled aquarium full of various colorful sea creatures, plants, corals and rocks. The research director watches quizzically as Danny coaxes Steve to slither from his transport tank into his temporary quarters. His eyes widen when Steve obeys, one tentacle still wrapped tenaciously around Danny’s wrist even as he hoists himself over the rim of the smaller tank. Danny can see that the biologist is dying to ask questions, but thankfully Chin heads him off and leads him away to his office to sign paperwork and elaborate on whatever bullshit tale he told him in the first place.
Kono grins and winks at him when the curious man is safely out of earshot. She smiles at the sight of Steve through the glass. He is clearly torn between exploring his new digs and hanging on to Danny. His tentacles are reaching out curiously to explore interesting nooks and crannies among the coral, even as he keeps a firm hold on Danny’s wrist.
“I think he likes it here,” she chirps happily at Danny.
She bites back a grin because Danny, lower lip caught in his teeth, is busy determinedly peeling Steve’s tentacle off his wrist and cursing at the reddened suction marks it leaves behind. Steve finally lets go, but he pops up to swivel a suspicious eye at Danny anyway. Danny scowls at him and waves him off with both hands, making little shooing motions.
“Go. Go on, you idiot. How often do you get to breathe under water? Go check the place out. I told you I’m not going anywhere until you change back. Go flirt with a squid or something. Shoo!”
Steve obeys, drifting lazily off across the huge aquarium, causing the denizens of the tank to flee his approach, but Kono notices he keeps an eye on Danny. Danny walks over to Kono still rubbing the circulation back into his wrist and slumps tiredly down onto a crate.
“How much time do we have left, do you think?” He asks her, not noticing that he is keeping as much of a watchful eye on Steve as Octo-Steve is on him.
She glances at her watch and frowns. “I think it’s been about six hours since Steve changed, so maybe eighteen more to go?”
Danny groans. Well, there is no reason she and Chin have to stay as long as he is here. Before he can say anything, she is already speaking.
“Why don’t I go and bring back some food and clean clothes? You could use something dry and Steve will need some clothes when he changes back. I’ll see if I can wrangle a cot for you too.”
“Thanks, Kono.” Danny is genuinely grateful for her thoughtfulness.
So, that’s how it works. Kono heads out for dry clothes and take-out, Chin distracts the facilities’ staff until its time for them to go home for the day and Danny camps out next to Steve’s aquarium. Steve, he notices, as he munches his sandwich and swigs his root beer, is sneakily hiding some suspiciously empty crab and mollusk shells under a rock. Hopefully he hasn’t devoured some rare specimen, or something toxic that will make him sick.
After he sends Chin and Kono home to get some rest, Danny drags his cot, pillow and blanket over near the glass wall of the aquarium. He tells himself that its so Steve can see that Danny is close, but maybe Danny wants to keep an eye on the small shark and the fat eels that share Steve’s tank. How would Danny explain to the Governor that McGarrett was devoured by sharks? Come to think of it, knowing Steve, that is actually a plausible excuse.
He settles back on the surprisingly comfortable cot, hands behind his head and sleepily watches the ripples of the light and the movement of the fish. Steve has settled close to Danny and found several unfortunate small crabs and is apparently amusing himself with a game of crustacean tiddily-winks. Its surprisingly peaceful watching the colored light flicker and listening to the burble of the air filters, and Danny finds himself drifting easily off to sleep.
He is sound asleep and deep in a really interesting dream involving a boat rocking among waves and a very attractive hula dancer when his eyes pop open in shock and he sits up with a startled yelp and rolls off his cot onto the floor with a thud, batting away the tentacles that were apparently in the process of feeling him up. Danny sits on the floor gasping and gaping at Steve, who stares right back, completely (as far as Danny can tell) unrepentant. The guilty appendages are still curled damply over the top of the aquarium wall.
Danny sputters for a minute, caught between shock and arousal, then levels an accusing finger at his cephalopod partner. His face is hot with embarrassment and his hands start flailing as he starts his indignant rant, because damn it, his partner just felt him up! The partner with the tentacles---the very, very nimble inquisitive tentacles. No, the nimble, wet, cold tentacles!
“Did you just have your tentacles up my shirt and down my shorts? No, don’t answer that, Stephen, because I do not want to know! What is wrong with you? Okay, I know what’s wrong with you, you got turned into a damned squid. A squid with no sense of personal space! Are you blushing? Because you just went from a kind of golden brown to brick red really fast. We are going to talk about this Steve! When you get back to your old self we are going to sit down and have a nice long talk about personal boundaries! Just because its fun to have eight arms does not mean that you get the green light to stick those appendages into my personal places! You may be an officer pal, but you are certainly no gentleman!”
Danny climbs to his feet and makes a point of dragging his cot a few feet farther away from the aquarium, well out of reach of Steve’s now forlornly drooping tentacles. He glares back at Steve, who is now clearly sulking, several of his tentacles are irritably kicking at the sand and pebbles on the bottom of his tank, like a small boy kicking rocks. Danny refuses to find it cute. He has to be firm or he will end up starring in amateur tentacle porn before morning and he really doesn’t want to explain to HR why he is filing a sexual harassment suit against an octopus.
He levels the Finger of Thou Shalt Not at Steve one last time.
“You stay there! If I catch one, I mean one measly tentacle on my side of the wall tonight, you are going to be sushi! Do I make myself clear, buddy?”
Steve droops down the side of the aquarium and pointedly turns his back to Danny, his tentacles now coiled huffily around his body except for one that is toying with an unlucky starfish.
Danny climbs back into his cot and pulls his blanket up firmly to his chin. He cracks an eye one last time to glare at Steve, then closes them and tries to force himself to go back to sleep. Just before he drifts back off, he mumbles,
“It’s not that I’m opposed to you getting handsy, I just prefer warm hands, not cold, wet tentacles.”
He doesn’t open his eyes, so he doesn’t see Steve perk up and swivel to eye him thoughtfully, tentacles uncoiling and wriggling happily. If an octopus could be said to dance an underwater jig, Steve does.
The next day is a Saturday, so Danny doesn’t have to deal with any biologists showing up to ask unanswerable questions about the way too intelligent cephalopod in the tank. Kono brings him his laptop, a stack of paperwork and breakfast, so he commandeers a chair and a desk and goes to work and the morning passes pretty uneventfully.
Steve isn’t due to change back until later that evening and is apparently amusing himself by chasing the fat fish and small sharks around the tank and squishing himself into various nooks and crannies in the rocks and coral. Danny has never seen anyone enjoy not having a skeleton more and he briefly wonders if fish can have heart attacks from playful octopus attacks. At least Steve isn’t eating them, because Danny really doesn’t want to have to replace the damned things because they’re probably expensive and Danny has no clue as to how he would explain that in an expense report to the Governor.
Kono and Chin drop by later in the day with more food and to chat for a few minutes. They offer to stay until Steve changes back, but if they do they will miss Chin’s mother’s birthday party and there will be hell to pay, so Danny sends them on their way after insuring that they leave Danny’s car and some clothes for Steve. Danny refuses to even think about the possibility that Steve could be stuck in this form forever.
Danny finishes his pile of paperwork, spends an hour chatting happily on the phone with Grace and is online busily bookmarking calamari jokes (if he has his way Steve is never ever going to hear the end of them) when he glances at the time and realizes the big change is only a few minutes away. He closes his laptop and picks up the pile of Steve’s clothes and a towel and strolls over to the tank to wait. If he sends up a few prayers to various saints its no one’s business but his own, because he really can’t picture himself explaining to Gracie why Uncle Steve is an octopus.
Steve swims a slow circuit around the tank, gives the longsuffering shark an affectionate whack on the tail fin with a tentacle and drifts over towards Danny. Sure enough, as the minute hand on the big clock on the wall ticks over onto six p.m. on the dot, Octo-Steve abruptly writhes violently, jolts hard as though electrified and then disappears behind an enormous cloud of jet-black ink.
Alarmed, Danny steps closer, heart in his mouth, only to watch mesmerized as a long, lean, tanned body emerges from the inky cloud and Steve swims up to the wall like some absurd merman and grins goofily at Danny through the glass. He hauls himself easily up over the edge, pushes his hair out of his face and drops lightly to the floor, eyes intent on Danny’s face as he stalks towards him leaving a wet trail dripping behind him on the concrete floor.
Stalks is the correct term, because Danny suddenly has a hard time dragging his eyes up from that tanned, nude body to meet Steve’s eyes, because, wow, is he wet and there are droplets glistening in the dark trail of hair leading down… and since when did Steve have time to get the colorful ink curved around his lean hips done?
Danny swallows hard, and stands staring at the man like a goof, clutching Steve’s clothes and towel to his chest like a Victorian virgin. He must be under a spell himself because he can’t seem to stop gawking at Steve’s sleek, naked torso until it's suddenly right-there-close, and Steve slips a finger under his chin and tilts his head up so he’s forced to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve’s eyes are dilated and dark and the smile he gives Danny is suddenly very shark-like and predatory.
“I believe we were going to have a long talk. “
“We were?” Danny is definitely not squeaking.
Steve nods firmly.
“As I recall it was about personal boundaries and warm hands.”
“It was?”
Okay, Danny’s voice is a tad higher than usual, because Steve is so close now that he can see the blue in his hazel eyes and the drops of water on his lashes and feel the heat from his body, and Steve’s hand has slid around to cup Danny’s jaw and keep his face tilted up to Steve’s. He blinks foolishly up into his partner’s face and sees Steve’s face soften with affection and something that looks a lot like…Steve kisses him.
Steve slides his arms around Danny and pulls him close against his damp body and kisses him some more, until Danny nearly forgets his name, his address and his current state of residence. He drops the bundle of clothes to clutch Steve’s broad shoulders and finds himself returning those very warm, wet kisses with enthusiasm. Steve’s hands are suddenly doing some pretty meticulous exploring and it takes a while before either of them remembers where they are and mutually decide it would be wise to move things to a more private location.
Steve commandeers Danny’s keys as usual, (Danny still refuses to give him his own set, it’s the principle of the thing) and drives them back to Steve’s house. No way are we going to your rat hole of an apartment, Danno. Even after 24 hours spent as a cephalopod, Steve is bossy.
Danny feels compelled to point this fact out to him as Steve is dragging him out of the car, up the drive and into the house. He is also handsy, and Danny points that out too, even as Steve tows him towards the stairs. Steve gives a frustrated little growl at Danny’s continued nervous babble and furiously starts divesting him of his clothes even as they head up the staircase.
Danny is stark naked by the time they hit the top of the stairs and Steve scoops him unceremoniously up over one broad shoulder and hauls him into the bedroom. Danny’s surprised chuckle morphs into a moan when Steve turns his head and sinks his teeth into Danny’s left ass cheek. Steve briskly dumps him on the bed and yanks his own clothing off, hurling it carelessly across the room, still intent on getting his hands on Danny. In fact the mattress hasn’t stopped bouncing from Danny’s impact before Steve is enthusiastically pouncing on him like a tattooed tiger.
“I thought we were going to have a long talk.”
Danny gasps out as Steve scrapes his teeth along Danny’s jaw and noses behind his ear before latching on like a lamprey and sucking a bruise there. Steve sits back astride Danny’s hips and scrunches his face up in pretend thought before shaking his head.
“Nope, not so much.”
He pounces again, and presses Danny into the mattress, seemingly intent on tasting every inch of Danny’s skin. He particularly seems to like Danny’s nipples, and Danny can’t hold back a groan at the feel of that hot, wet mouth. Steve, he decides has a lot in common with octopuses when it comes to suction because he has a feeling that Steve is going to suck his brains out through his dick very shortly.
It turns out he is right.
Sometime later after round three, they’re lying together in the crumpled sheets, limbs entwined with Danny curled close in the long curve of Steve’s body. Steve is doing a damned good impression of a human octopus because he has yet to release Danny and he now lazily nuzzling under his jaw, suckling and nipping and leaving tiny red bruises in a pattern only he knows.
“Octopus.” Danny mumbles affectionately, still blissed out from his last orgasm.
“Hmm?” Steve hums questioningly, pausing to suckle Danny’s tender earlobe.
“All tentacles.” Danny murmurs, striving for coherence.
“Arms with infundibulum lined with denticles.” Steve corrects him, now nosing behind Danny’s ear and inhaling happily. “For chemotactile recognition.”
Danny squints narrowly at him.
“Infunda-what-um Mr. Science Geek?”
“Tentacles lined with suckers that can smell and taste.”
Steve translates absently as he gently pushes Danny over on his back and moves lazily over him. He raises his head and smiles goofily down into Danny’s sleepy, amused face.
“I really liked tasting you Danno.”
He begins to lick his way down Danny’s blond furred torso.
“Pervert!” Danny gasps out even as he shudders at the memory of nimble tentacles delving under his clothing, as Steve pauses to suckle a tiny tender nipple.
Steve huffs laughter against his chest, and raises bright eyes to his face.
“But you love me anyway.”
Danny wraps his arms around broad, tattooed shoulders and squeezes, doing an octopus impression of his own.
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he mumbles into dark hair.
And if Danny maybe decides later to get a teeny, tiny tattoo of an octopus on a very private area of his body that’s nobody’s business but his and Steve’s.