Five Times The Five-0s Didn’t Know They were Dealing with Burberry McGarrett (and One Time They Did)
Are you wondering who/what Burberry McGarrett is? Need a refresher? Click here.
The First Time They Didn’t
Burberry McGarrett sighed dramatically as he readjusted himself for what felt like the twentieth time that hour. He was starting to lose feeling in his arse. The lounge chair he’d set up on the exclusive North Shore beach (to which he’d surreptitiously gained access earlier in the day) was comfortable enough – but he had two problems.
First, his swim shorts – they were a little tight. They’d looked alright when he’d ordered them online from internationaljock.com, but he either had the sizing wrong or they’d shrunk — or something. They were riding frighteningly low on his hips and dangerously high up his thighs. The more he moved around in his seat the greater danger of a “wardrobe malfunction” and, well, that was best avoided on a high-end resort beach such as this.
His second, and frankly, more distressing problem, was that he didn’t want to leave his deck chair until he found a way to apply sunscreen to his back. Having been raised in the semi-tropical climate of eastern Australia and indoctrinated at an early age to Slip!Slop!Slap! with a high-level SPF sunscreen to prevent skin cancer, he couldn’t in good conscience expose the central area of his back to direct sunlight without protection.
He’d spent a good portion of the morning applying the sunscreen himself, where he could reach. Starting with his face and being sure to get behind his ears, he’d moved on, massaging into the back of his neck and tops of his shoulders, taking extra special care with the skin decorated by his tattoos, colorfully shimmering in the sunlight. Moving on down each of his arms, he finished up by rubbing his hands together to rid himself of the excess lotion before he picked up the bottle again. Squirting a fresh dollop of cream into his palm, he gently slapped it onto his chest, and began rubbing it into his skin in slow circles. Running his fingertips along the ridges of his collarbone, he let the pads of his fingers glide smoothly up and down the sinews of his neck before heading back down to his sternum. He huffed out a breath as he moved the palms of his hands across his pectorals, moving slowly down his sides towards his hips. He hated this part, really, and he hoped no one was watching. It just wouldn’t do to have anyone realize how incredibly ticklish he was.
Fighting to keep the corners of his mouth curled down as he worked, he firmly stroked at the muscled area between his ribs and made a quick swipe over his belly button. He looked down at his stomach as he idly smeared the lotion around his hipbones. The muscles of his lower belly, long and lean from his new workout regimen, bunched slightly as the cool lotion slid over his skin. He shrugged, pondering his abs. Though well-defined, they weren’t as prominent as they used to be, but it hadn’t hurt his success with the ladies, he thought with a smile.
Finishing up on his hips, he turned his palms in towards his stomach and slipped his fingertips under the waistband of his shorts. He easily slid his hands around his sides until they touched at the small of his back. Pulling his fingers back out of his trunks and shaking them, he rubbed the leftover sunscreen on his knees and grabbed the bottle. Once again filling his palm, he began the long job of evenly applying the lotion to his legs. His thighs and knees were easy enough, a few quick passes of his hands over each of his thighs, but he felt awkward, not to mention highly mistrustful of his body-hugging, colorful swim trunks, as he folded his leg up towards his chest in order to apply the sunscreen to his calves and feet. Wrapping his large hands around his muscular calf muscle and pushing down towards his ankle, he took his heel in one hand and pushed his fingertips down the top of his foot, curving around his arch, and back up, spreading his fingers and sliding them gently over and between his toes. Finishing up, he thought about trying to twist his arm behind him to attempt to get his back, but he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself in public – and again, there were these skintight swim shorts to consider.
Disgruntled, he flopped back on the chair and surveyed his fellow beach-goers behind his silver ray-ban aviators. There weren’t many others on the beach this time of day. A slender blonde out jogging caught his attention, but he kept his face still and forward as he tracked her progress across the beach, only moving his eyes. Her sporty two-piece and water-socks were a dark navy blue and the look on her face was one of grim determination as she ran awkwardly through the sand. As she passed him, she slowed to a stop and he noticed her cat-like blue eyes widen as she looked right at him, her hands fluttering up to her hair to straighten her scraggly ponytail. For a minute it looked like she would bolt, but she took a deep breath, straightened her slim shoulders, and steadily approached him. Burberry’s mind was flying – it was obvious this woman thought she knew him – but he had no idea who she was.
“Steve, hi! I didn’t expect to see you until we were back in the office on Monday. I didn’t know you hung out at this beach. It’s kinda more for tourists.” She paused, as if waiting for him to say something. At his lack of response, she suddenly gasped, bug-eyed. “Ohmygosh you probably come here to avoid locals and… People you know..?” she trailed off, looking sheepish. Throwing her hands up in the air she rolled her eyes. “And here I am, totally..” she sighed, “Way to go, Lori!” she finished, obviously flustered.
Reminding himself to keep his voice in a flat American accent like his brother, he dived right in. “No, no, it’s ok,” Burberry said to her. So this was the Lori Weston he’d heard so much about – the newest member of the Five-0 team – perhaps he could use this chance meeting to his advantage. Struck by inspiration, he held up the bottle of sunblock and gave it a little shake. “You got a minute?”
Approximately twenty seconds later…
Burberry sighed happily to himself. The lotion felt wonderfully cool on his overheated skin. Lori’s hands were soft and gentle (no gun callouses on her dainty hands, he happily observed) and she was obligingly chattering on about the latest facial recognition software the CIA had developed – and that the Five-0 task force was beta testing.
Lori had started with his shoulders, hands trembling slightly as they spread slowly over his shoulder blades. As she took the opportunity to knead the large muscles that lined his ribs, her eyes drifted downwards towards the elastic of his swim trunks. She blinked once, again, and then shook her head. Was that a tattoo on his lower back poking out of those shorts? Her eyes widened, and as she mouthed “OH MY GOD,” her hands stilled.
“You OK back there?” Burberry’s question interrupted her reverie.
“Uh… yeah… ok, Steve, yeah. Thanks. Great. I mean. Just fine!” She winced at her own awkwardness. Her hands, moving of their own volition and slick with suntan oil, slipped over the vertical mountains of muscle lining his back from his shoulder blades down to his waist and crashed into each other in the valley of his spine. She jumped in surprise and cleared her throat, attempting to re-focus on the task at hand.
Burberry chuckled to himself. Seems as if Officer Weston was developing a bit of a crush on her boss. How interesting.
They made some small talk on the weather as Lori finished up, and Burberry thanked her politely, but added, “probably best if we don’t mention this back at the office, ok?”
Her face fell a little, but she nodded firmly, meeting his eyes. “Roger that.”
Waving as she jogged off, Burberry stretched contentedly and watched her go. This little encounter might make his brother’s work life a little more complicated (not to mention any lasting effects on Ms. Weston herself) but he felt so good, it was really hard to care. Flipping over onto his stomach, he pulled down his shorts as far as he dared, and soaked up the rays.
Part 2 Right Here!
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