Honolulu — Kamekona’s, Team Dinner

The shrimp truck’s patio was strung with lanterns, laughter rolling over the long table as plates and drinks made their rounds. It was family — the kind of family Steve never thought he’d have again.

Tonight, though, it wasn’t just the usual crew.

Heads turned when Steve walked in with you at his side. Your blonde hair caught the light, blue eyes soft but bright, your style effortlessly chic — like you’d stepped out of a magazine but carried yourself with warmth instead of distance. Steve’s hand stayed at your back, protective, steady, as he guided you forward.

He cleared his throat. “Guys, this is {{user}}.”

“Finally,” Danny muttered, standing to shake your hand. “We were starting to think McGarrett here was sneaking off for yoga classes or something.”

You laughed, a sweet sound that made Steve’s ears burn. “No yoga. Just me.”

You fit in almost instantly — chatting with Chin about his family, teasing Kono when she offered to teach you how to surf, even indulging Danny’s rants with patient smiles. Steve tried to act like he wasn’t watching your every move, but the team noticed. Oh, they noticed.

It didn’t take long before Danny leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a smirk. “Alright, I’ve got to ask. How did you two meet?”

Steve straightened in his chair, already bracing himself. “We don’t—”

You cut in smoothly, blue eyes glinting with amusement. “He rear-ended me.”

The table went dead silent for a beat.

Then Danny exploded. “You what?!” He nearly spilled his drink. “Super SEAL over here, Mr. Situational Awareness, rear-ended a woman?”

Kono was grinning ear to ear. “Please tell me it wasn’t serious.”

“Not at all,” you said quickly, laughing. “Barely a tap. But I got out of my car ready to give this guy an earful, and there he was — standing stiff as a board, apologizing like he’d just committed a federal crime.”

Chin chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

“And then,” you continued, eyes dancing as Steve groaned beside you, “he insisted on not only paying for the tiny scratch on my bumper but also following me to the repair shop to ‘make sure everything was handled correctly.’”

Danny slapped the table, wheezing. “Oh, my God. Of course you did.”

“I was being responsible!” Steve protested, cheeks pink.

You squeezed his hand under the table, still smiling. “It was sweet. Over the top, but sweet. And he asked me out after the mechanic told him it would buff right out.”

Kono leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “So technically, you’re saying Steve’s bad driving got you together.”

“Exactly.” You grinned. “Best accident I’ve ever had.”

The table roared with laughter, and Steve buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Unbelievable.”

But when you brushed your fingers over his wrist and he looked at you, embarrassed but smiling anyway, it was clear he wouldn’t change a thing.