Steve gets high and tries to fuck Danny; things devolve from there.
So basically Danny hasn't had sex with anyone but his ex-wife since he was 17 years old, and now there is Steve, who is crazy and an adrenaline junkie and absolutely nothing like her, and also a dude.
They finally make it to the beach long after dark, but not long enough after the guys with guns and jeeps roar off to the other side of Molokai, hot on a false trail. Danny releases his death grip on Steve’s waist and allows McGarrett to fall onto the rocky sand. He hits a little harder than Danny intends, but McGarrett’s not exactly a ballerina and they’ve covered two miles through the steep jungle in about fifteen minutes, with Danny taking most of Steve’s weight. His arm shakes with exhaustion as he pulls out the satellite phone, which is the only way anyone can get a signal on this isolated fucking rock in the middle of --
Danny rubs his chin with the hand that isn't gripping the passenger-door handle for dear life. His chin is bristly. Very bristly. "I'd damn well better get home in time to shave before Grace comes over." Hell, he'd better get home in time for her, period. No way he's letting his little girl down just because the bad guys have taken them on a chase all along the North Shore.
Steve is rude. Danny teaches him some manners.
Castle assumes every New Yorker can skate and has Rockefeller Center booked for Christmas Eve. Ryan and Esposito have to learn to skate fast or risk major embarrassment.
Steve's not watching Danny, he's just taking inventory of all the differences between Danny asleep and Danny awake
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