Danny realizes he should have been paying more attention to the contents of his car when they get called down to a hostage situation on the USS Missouri and Steve opens the trunk and pulls out a swim mask, flippers, and a water proof back pack. Danny's not sure he's even been in the trunk of his car since he bought the thing. Being single, he doesn't tend to buy more groceries than will fit on the passenger seat anyway.
He does a thorough search of the vehicle when he gets home that night. There's nothing in the car itself, but a search of the trunk reveals that the swim gear is back (thoroughly dried), also present are what appears to be a two day supply of water and military rations, and his Triple A roadside emergency kit has been replaced with something rather more extensive. Danny sets up a reminder on his phone to sweep the car for contraband every two weeks.
Not much turns up. About a month later he finds a small hard plastic box stowed carefully under the driver's seat. It has one of those little padlocks with four wheels with numbers printed on them. Danny guesses the combination on his first try and decides he needs to have a talk with Steve. It's morbid and creepy that the combination on a box that turns out to contain extra ammo clips is the date of his father's death. He also thinks it's really sad that anyone who knows Steve reasonably well would probably guess the combination, so it's both disturbing and unsafe. Danny starts looking for the names of good therapists in Honolulu.
The first time he suggests Steve see someone, Steve thinks he's kidding.
A few other things turn up over time. A pair of mag lites (which Danny actually thinks is probably a good idea), a hand held gps, a tarp that Danny is sure will never fold back down to the size it is now if ever they should have need to take it out of its package, and some cammo paint. They don't usually talk about the little treats Steve leaves in Danny's car, but that one prompts a response.
"Steven, I think you may have misunderstood the meaning of the phrase 'urban jungle'."
Steve just smirks and says, "You never know what might happen."
Danny just sighs because, why is this his life?
All of this is to say that he really thinks he should have seen this coming. Because why wouldn't Steven J. One-Man Army (It's the Navy, Danny!) McGarrett need an emergency stash of hand grenades? And really it's not the fact that they're in the car that bothers him. No, he's long ago resigned himself to the fact that he's been partnered with a crazy person who thinks gun fights and explosions are happy fun time. What bothers him is that he's just opened the glove box to get a piece of paper to write down the address of Grace's dance recital that Rachel is currently reminding him of and finds three hand grenades just rolling around in the god damn glove box!
Ok, to be fair they're not rolling around. They appear to be quite well secured, actually. But there are hand grenades in his car!
"Steven?" Danny says, fighting to stay calm.
"Why are there hand grenades in my glove box?"
Steve pauses briefly, "Well, we use the cup holders sometimes and..."
"Let me rephrase!" Danny cuts in, "Why are there hand grenades in my CAR?"
"We might need them?"
"Need them? For what?"
"Well, any number of things. Car chases, pinned down by superior numbers, clearing a fallen tree off the road, if there's a door I can't kick open,"
"Ok, ok, enough! I get it," Danny stops him there because he's sure that's just the beginning a of long list "There are many and varied uses for hand grenades. But Steven, why are they just sitting in the glove box?"
"They need to be someplace we can get at them quickly and we already use..."
"The cup holders. I know!" Danny takes a deep breath and lets out an exasperated sigh. He smacks his hands to his face and rubs vigorously as if he could wake himself from this crazy dream he's having.
That never works.
"Danny?" Steve says after a few moments of silence.
Danny holds up his left hand in Steve's direction and without looking at him, says "Don't speak."
They sit quietly for another minute, then Danny turns to Steve and again fighting for calm begins to talk, "Steven, I allow you to drive my beloved automobile on a daily basis, because you are a massive control freak and I accept that about you. I let it pass without comment when you fill said vehicle with the contents of a military surplus store because most of the things you put in here, we actually use in the course of our duty as peace officers. But Steven, this is my car. My car that I drive when you're not using it. The car that I take my daughter to school in! Why did I not know until I went for a piece of paper to write down the address of Grace's hula school that there are hand grenades in my car?" Well, he started calm, but was definitely yelling by the end there.
"Halau," Steve says.
"It's not called a hula school. It's a halau."
"Not the point! The point is that there are hand grenades in my car, in the glove box of my car, and I didn't know about them! The car I drive in with my nine year old daughter, who sits in the front seat. In front of a glove box filled with explosives. Do you see where my problem lies?"
"I stowed them. And they're really quite stable until you pull the pin."
Steve is silent for a moment.
Danny sighs. "Glove box. Unlocked. Nine year old girl. Live ordnance."
"Oh? That's all you have say? OH?"
"It's ok, Danno. I taught her all about them."
"You what?" and he's not even trying to stay calm at this point.
"I know Grace rides in your car. Did you really think I'd just leave grenades where a kid might find them without showing her how to use them first?"
Danny is silent for a moment. Because really, how do you respond to that? He finally settles on "You really have no idea at all what was wrong with that sentence, do you?"
"What? I showed them to her, explained they were dangerous, showed her how they work, and told her never to touch them. She's a smart kid, Danny. She's not gonna take them out and practice her juggling. What's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? You taught my daughter how to throw freaking hand grenades!"
"I didn't teach her how to throw them! I taught her how to arm them."
"A distinction that will totally matter when she blows her arm off!"
"Come on Danno. She's a good kid. She knows they're not toys."
"I want them out of my car, Steven."
"But we might need them."
"Just one?" Steve asks looking for all the world like a kid asking for extra hot fudge on his sundae.
Danny can't resist that look from Grace, and apparently not from Steve either.
"Fine, just one. But you keep the glove box locked, you hear me?"
"Deal. You know what this means though?"
"You're gonna have to give me your spare key. If we need it while we're driving I'll need you to unlock it for me, and you can't do that if I'm using your keys."
"Fine," Danny says.
Steve just smiles.
"I see what you did there. Don't think that I don't."
Steve says nothing, but smiles a bit wider.
"Just shut up and drive," Danny grumbles.