FIC: Leave it to the Pros (1/1)

[stellarmeadow]

Title: Leave it to the Pros

Author: stellarmeadow

Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny

Rating: G

Summary: Danny's willingness to do paperwork has its limits.

Notes: This is all celli's fault, for being an awesome person who said "Write me this!" and I said, "Yes, ma'am!"




Danny had been ignoring the sounds for two hours. He'd ignored them as they grew louder, he ignored as them they became more profane. But when the sounds ceased being just curses and began to include crashes, he thought it might be in the best interests of the person who would end up filling out requisition paperwork to replace whatever Steve might break--one Danny Williams--to see if he could help.

He stopped in Steve's doorway, his hand keeping the door open in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. "Something wrong?"

Steve looked up from his desk--at least Danny assumed there was still a desk under the pile of papers that looked like the Tasmanian Devil had run through them--his eyes pained, the little wrinkle between his brow looking as if it was going to take up permanent residence and maybe invite a few friends to join it. "Make it go away."

"Sorry," Danny said, taking a few steps into the room, convinced by the tone of Steve's voice that he was safe. "All the immunity and means in the world won't make the IRS go away."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. And you can't shoot them, either, so get that look off your face."

Steve scowled. "I don't have a look."

"You don't have a mirror," Danny said. He stepped cautiously closer, until he could lean his hip against Steve's desk. "Didn't the Governor offer you someone to do this for you?"

"Yes."

Danny folded his arms over his chest and waited. "And?" he prompted when he realized that Steve apparently considered continuing to glare at the form in front of him an answer.

"They said I couldn't write off stuff."

"What kind of stuff would that be?"

"Most of it."

Danny heaved a long sigh and moved, pulling a chair over to sit beside Steve. "Okay, for the sake of my sanity--not yours, as that's obviously long gone--and in the interest of us both going home sometime today, and in the hopes of keeping you out of jail, I will help you. Once. Next year, you let the accountants do it."

"But they don't do it right."

"Trained professionals, Steven. They have their special areas of law, just like we do."

Steve was pouting at the papers now. "Their areas are wrong."

God help him, he was not going to laugh, Danny thought. "You'll have to take that up with Congress," he said, scooting a little closer. "How far have you gotten?"

Steve picked up the first page on his desk and handed it to Danny without looking. Danny glanced at the form. "Problem number one. You're using the wrong form."

"But it says it's easy."

"No, it says EZ. That's for people who are not you, and not just because there is absolutely nothing easy about you."

"Well what form do I need, then?"

Danny closed his eyes and counted to five. "What you need," he said slowly, "is software. Or, better yet, an accountant. This is what they are for. They live for this stuff."

His face making it clear how insane he thought that was--and really, Steve was the last one to be questioning anyone's sanity--Steve pushed the papers around for a moment. "I told you. They wouldn't let me write stuff off."

"Like what?" When Steve didn't reply, Danny shook his head. "Okay," he said, pushing up out of the chair, "clearly you don't want my help."

"They said I couldn't write off the tac light and laser."

"Well, no. You bought that for fun. If you had waited and let me order it through proper channels, the state would've paid for it."

Steve gave a frustrated growl. "If the state was going to pay for it anyway, then why--"

"Because you have to buy it properly. There are rules about bids and contracts and--why the hell am I even trying to explain this to you? Because you can't. That's all you need to know."

Steve sighed, glaring at Danny now. "You're as bad as the accountants."

"Because it's not the accountants or me, it's the law. You remember the law, Steven? It's that thing we're sworn to uphold to the best of our ability. The law. They have books on it, if you want to read up."

"Sarcasm isn't going to help."

"Sarcasm is the only thing that helps when it comes to you, my friend. Trust me." Danny took a deep breath. "What else wouldn't they let you write off?"

"My house."

"Your house is paid for. What would you need to write off?"

Steve shook his head. "Not the house itself. The repairs from after Taylor and his team tore it all to hell."

"Well, no, because it wasn't over a certain amount." Danny frowned. "I think that's the rule, anyway. But either way, it's not a write off. However, that was due to work, and the Governor has already authorized payment. If you would just bring me the damn receipts like I asked you a hundred times, I will fill out the paperwork to get the state to pay for it."

"But if I write it off, the state pays for it--what's the difference?"

"The difference is," Danny grated out, "one is legal, the other will get you audited and probably thrown in jail, once you attack the auditor for pissing you off."

Steve sighed. "None of this makes any sense."

"If it made sense we wouldn't need accountants." Danny took another deep breath. "Okay, babe, I recognize that you are in a difficult state of mind, and I am making an executive decision that you are not allowed to disagree with."

At Steve's raised eyebrow, Danny continued, "You are putting this all into a box," he said, getting up to get a file box of binders in a corner. He dumped the binders on the couch and dropped the box on top of Steve's desk. "You have five minutes, after which we are going home."

"What about the taxes?"

"Tomorrow, you and I are taking them to the accountants, where one of them will fill them out without you there, and when you get the form back to sign, you will sign it without question, and that will be the end of it."

"But Danny, the accountants don't want to--"

"Listen to me very closely, Steven. I fill out paperwork every day. I am not doing this for you, and you clearly cannot do it for yourself. So unless you let the trained professionals do it, you are going to become very attached to your couch for some time to come, because I have gotten used to a proper bed, so I am not giving yours up, but we will not be sleeping in it together. Are we clear?"

Steve blinked three times. "Yes?"

"That did not sound certain."

"Yes," Steve said, and cleared his throat. "We're clear."

"Good. And next year, what will we do?"

"Take the taxes to the accountant."

Danny smiled. "Right answer. And if the accountant says we can't write off grenades and firearms, what will we do?"

"Nothing."

"Excellent. It's nice to see you can listen."

"Motivation helps?"

"I will keep that in mind. And you have," Danny checked his watch, "four minutes to pack up those papers."

As he went back to his office to get his things and shut off the lights, Danny could hear the sounds of rapid stuffing of papers into the box.

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END