Disclaimer: This is a work of parody fan fiction that incorporates dialogue from Hawaii Five-0 Season 2 episode 12, Alaheo Pau’ole (Gone Forever), written by Elwood Reid. No infringement of copyright intended ~ no profit made here ~ my only motivation is love for Show… and the entertainment of my readers..!
Note: Opinions of Burberry McGarrett are not necessarily those of the author! But in some cases… They are!
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The Third Time They Didn’t
“Some days, I hate my job,” Burberry thought angrily. He wasn’t sure what the point was, being undercover in a tailor’s shop in mid-town Honolulu. This was certainly not the place he’d ever get a suit made — but then again, not everyone had his fabulous couture taste and unlimited resources. But he had to trust his source that this would be the place to gain the valuable intel he’d spent the better part of the last month looking for.
He was about to give up when a group of five men walking through the storefront made everything clear — and made Burberry happier than ever before that he was an internationally renowned master of disguise.
Not five minutes later, Burberry was kneeling behind Danny Williams, measuring the man’s inseam as the detective bantered with his friends, gesturing wildly, barely keeping still long enough for Burberry to note the needed pants length.
His disguise for this operation was a good one. A hairpiece, slightly greying, raised his hairline. Well-placed makeup for wrinkles and bushy eyebrows added about twenty years to his face. Some rubber latex, skillfully applied to his jawline, gave him the illusion of sagging cheeks and a weak chin. Slumped shoulders completed the look. A simple, but classic cover. As long as he avoided any prolonged eye contact with his marks, he’d be just fine.
The groom, Chin Ho Kelly, Burberry mentally noted, had already mentioned Hugo Castillo’s prison transport schedule to Joe White, the oldest of the group and Burberry had recorded the details. Burberry eyed the Navy veteran suspiciously. There was obviously more to Joe White than the man let on. Burberry knew from his inside contacts that White associated with the highest levels of Yakuza leadership. That the highly intelligent officers of the Five-0 task force had invited this man into their inner circle was puzzling, but Burberry didn’t let those thoughts distract him from the task at hand. Leaning back slightly on his heels to avoid placing his face directly against Danny Williams’ prominent yet shapely rear end, he completed his measurements and motioned to Detective Williams that he was done. Upon being released, the restless Detective wandered off towards the corner of the shop that housed suit accessories.
Maneuvering to stand behind his brother, he heard the large native Hawaiian groomsman, Kamekona ask, “So what you guys think? Butter cup, cabernet, or paisley lavender sunset for the vests?”
Looking wryly at the fabric swatches Kamekona held, Chin Ho was quick to jump in, “No no no, Malia was very specific: there are no vests, no bow ties and no paisley lavender… anything.”
Keeping his head down, Burberry measured the width of Steve’s shoulders – and with a grin noticed he wouldn’t have had to – it was exactly the same as his own measurement. However, he did have to keep his cover, so he dutifully pulled out his tape, holding it to the back of his brother’s neck and smoothing it down his spine to his waist – noting again the length matched his own – as his customers debated the relative merits of cummerbunds and suspenders.
Burberry ducked his head and stooped his posture to further his disguise as Steve entered the conversation, saying, “Here, hold on, hold on – isn’t this a beach wedding, Chin?”
Chin Ho replied, “Yeah,” and Burberry made a note of that, mixed in among his measurements. Always helped to know when the Five-0s would be out of the office and otherwise preoccupied.
“So what’s wrong with boardies – and slippers?” Steve asked, and it was all Burberry could do not to roll his eyes at his apparently-in-name-only brother’s lack of class. He knew (from looking in the mirror) that the man would be dashing in a tux – but apparently, getting him into one would be something of a challenge.
Luckily for Burberry, this wasn’t a fight he would have to enter, as Chin Ho replied quickly, “what’s wrong with them is that they do not match the bridesmaid’s dresses.”
“Ahhhhh…” sighed Steve, rubbing his hands together in defeat.
“Show him the Jersey Slip, Danno,” murmured Steve, casting a teasing look towards his partner.
“I offered to shoot em off,” laughed Joe.
To Burberry’s amazement, Kamekona wiggled the necklace off from around his substantial neck, saying, “No key? No problem, brah. Bring, bring, bring.” Finished with Steve’s primary shoulder, back and bicep measurements, Burberry took the opportunity created by Kamekona’s distraction to attach a small tracking device into the hem of Joe White’s pants. “You never know when it might come in handy,” he mused silently. Burberry kept his head down as Kamekona popped open the handcuffs with his makau pendant to the amusement and astonishment of the group.
However, the laughter was short-lived. Steve’s phone rang and he answered with a curt “McGarrett.” The faces in the room turned his way, so Burberry knelt, ostensibly to measure his brother’s inseam, but with the benefit of avoiding their sight lines.
In response to whatever he heard on the other end of the phone, Steve stepped forward, as if raring to go fight crime in a sample tuxedo shirt and pants held together with pins. Ending the call, Steve growled, “yeah, be there in twenty,” into his phone and disconnected. Since Steve had moved from out in front of him, Burberry stood, but kept his shoulders slumped and head down as Steve announced, “Guys, zip it up, we got a body.”
This spurred the men in the room into action. Kamekona, already dressed in his loud blue print shirt and board shorts, moved away from the main fitting area to the front of the shop as the other men searched for their own clothes. Joe White found his first, in the neat pile where he’d placed them, a simple grey shirt with black slacks, both crisply folded. He moved behind a wheeled display cart to change.
Stepping around the edges of the room to avoid attracting attention, Burberry worked his way towards his brother. If the Five-0s were leaving the shop, this may be his only chance to observe them and glean the information his contact had told him he would find here. He had to keep his eyes open.
As his Steve turned to find the clothes he’d worn into the shop, he suddenly stopped, leaning towards Danny, grasping his arm and whispering something in his partner’s ear. Burberry didn’t catch much at first, but after a few moments, eventually caught a reference to Pearl City and an old bunker. This “body” didn’t sound like anything he’d be interested in – murder was not usually in his repertoire – so he kept moving about to make it look as if he wasn’t listening and he found himself in the corner of the fitting room, out of the line of sight, coming to stand behind Chin Ho Kelly.
Chin Ho sighed softly, the only sign that having to re-schedule the tux fitting caused the groom any worry. He’d already changed from his dress shirt back into the pale blue button up he’d worn in, though he hadn’t closed it yet, revealing his smooth and well-built torso. He looked around for a place to sit. Finding a chair, he pulled at the front pleat of his tuxedo pants. Holding the waistband as he sat, he pulled them down to his knees in one fluid motion. Lifting his right leg and gently removing the fabric, he exposed the lean muscle of his thigh covered by smooth and evenly golden skin, then repeated the process with his left leg. Taking a deep, calming breath, Chin stretched his brawny biceps towards his blue jeans. Getting them into position, his prominent calf muscles flexed, displaying amazing tone, as he pointed his toes and slipped his legs into his jeans. Burberry noted with a hint of jealousy the man’s naturally smooth legs had an undeniably masculine quality that he surmised had been hard-won on surfboards and hiking Hawaii’s abundant and mountainous nature trails.
Chin was lacing up his shoes just as Danny, through conferencing with Steve, picked up his blue and white striped dress shirt from off the chair where he’d laid it, and slipped it on. The man’s body was an enigma, Burberry mused. While earlier in the fitting, Burberry noted Detective Williams was nearly bursting the chest level buttons off of his dress shirt and could barely get his beefy arms through the standard sized sleeves, Burberry almost couldn’t believe the amount of fabric he’d have to take in to fit the man’s trim waistline so he didn’t look as if he were wearing a tent.
Whereas Chin Ho’s body reflected a zen-like symmetry, elegance and balance, Danny William’s body was like his personality – uneven, unique and in-your-face. From his broad shoulders, his torso tapered to a slim waist and kept telescoping down – his muscular legs coming to a point at his ankles. However, the front view didn’t tell the entire story, as Burberry’s measurement pad revealed: Detective Williams’ hip measurement reflected the man’s frankly incredible posterior, and Burberry was man enough to admit that was the case. He made a mental note to surveil Williams’ sometime – to determine just what the man did to work out his glutes to achieve such results. He figured the seamstress who worked on Williams’ slacks had her work cut out for her.
Danny quickly switched shirts as he and Steve continued to converse, apparently already debating a case they’d barely begun. Distracted by their conversation, Danny closed up his shirt a button off, but he just shrugged, giving Steve the stink eye, switching topics to loudly complain to no one in particular about disruptive and distracting partners. Grabbing up his navy blue work pants, he let the dress slacks drop to the floor and hopped out of them, shaking his right foot a few times to disentangle the cloth from around his ankle. Burberry rolled his eyes at the man’s frankly egregious knee-level tan lines and made a note about the faint scar on Danny’s left leg – the man must have had ACL surgery at some point in his past.
Danny continued to shake his right foot and the motion caused him to overbalance on his left side. At the sight of his partner awkwardly hopping across the fitting room floor, Steve put his hands on his hips and laughed, an open, appealing sound, and for the first time Burberry felt a connection to his brother. Burberry shivered and shrugged it off. It might be unavoidable, but the first rule of undercover ops was “don’t get too close to your target.” Burberry began to wonder if coming back to Honolulu was such a good idea after all.
As Danny straightened his plain white boxers, Steve paused a moment before he quickly began searching around for his wrinkled green polo and ratty tan cargo pants. Burberry shook his head, almost feeling pity for his brother. He’d been raised by loving, if criminal, parents who taught him about the finer things in life and provided lavishly for him. He’d had his first tuxedo jacket as a present for his fifteenth birthday, complete with cuff links and two proud parents showing him how to tie a bow tie. The only thing he knew for sure about his brother’s fifteenth birthday was that it was the last one for which their biological mother was alive. Burberry shrugged again.
Across the room, Danny found an empty seat, and idly scratched a knee as he watched Steve, still in his dress shirt and slacks, impatiently stride around the room. “Steven. What is going on over there?”
“I can’t find my pants, Danny.”
“What do you mean you can’t find your pants? Look, look, I told you, they’re over by the desk…”
The men continued to bicker back and forth as Danny pulled his pants up over his boxers. Leaving them hanging open, sagging low on his cut hipbones, he unbuttoned his shirt top to bottom, revealing exquisitely well-defined pectoral muscles overlaid with whorls of light brown chest hair. Pausing to continue his teasing of Steve, he idly scratched his stomach before grabbing hold of the placket of his shirt. Having done so, he re-buttoned it, correctly aligning the buttons this time. Pulling open the fly of his pants, he quickly stuffed the tails of his shirt down and around his back, tucking them in.
Having finally located his cargos and polo shirt, Steve began to strip with military efficiency, tuning out any potential distractions around him. Within seconds, he had unbuttoned his dress shirt at the wrists and down the front, revealing his muscular chest, which Burberry noted with a hint of dismay was practically hairless. Though the manscaping did help to define his brother’s pectoral muscles, which were incredibly pronounced, Burberry just couldn’t condone that level of hair removal. As Steve shrugged off his shirt, Burberry noted with amazement his brother’s shoulder tattoos that exactly matched his own. Although he had known about the tattoos from his review of Steve’s military file (not to mention his arrest records) seeing them in person was another thing altogether – incredible and stunning.
Steve’s shoulder and back muscles flexed as he made quick, short movements, stretching his arm through the polo and pulling it over his head. Moving too swiftly, the hem of the shirt bunched up under his arms and Steve’s abs rolled, showing off their chiseled and defined lines as he bent his head down towards his stomach so he could see to smooth out his shirt from where it was stuck under his arms.
Burberry ran his hand through his hair, still observing. This has been a successful operation. He’d learned invaluable details about the personalities and interactions of the Five-0 team. Details like the cut of his twin brother’s abdominal muscles were probably not critical, but Burberry smiled as he remembered the European mythology professor he’d once romanced who’d told him his abdominals were “Adonis like” so he supposed his brother’s were the same — although, Steve didn’t seem like the type to date professors, Burberry chuckled to himself.
Standing deep in the shadows of the room, Steve didn’t notice Burberry at his five o’clock. Thinking he was alone, he dropped his dress slacks and bending at the waist, reached forward for his cargo pants on the floor in front of him.
Burberry stifled the irritated groan that rose from his throat when he realized his brother wasn’t wearing any underwear. ”Although,” he thought upon reflection, ”it was good to know he wasn’t the only one with a rather large dark freckle just on the left side curve of his ass.”
The backs of Steve’s long, lean thigh muscles stretched, tendons popping out as he tipped forward, grasping for his pants. Burberry stared at the ceiling for a second, but needing to stay aware of his surroundings, looked back around the room. As the other men had dressed, they’d moved out of the fitting room towards the front of the shop, and with the exception of Steve they were all out of sight, waiting by the door. Burberry would rather have been overhearing their conversation, but had effectively cornered himself in the room with his brother. At this point, keeping still was probably the best strategy, he decided.
Having finally located his pants, Steve pulled up the cargos (“no belt?” thought Burberry, aghast) and did a quick pat check of his many pockets, before grabbing up his shoes and taking a seat. Pulling a mid-sized knife, sheathed in a fine leather holster out of one of the shoes, Steve quickly wrapped it around his left ankle and hastily shoved his large feet into the now empty shoes.
Having finally laced up, Steve took quick, long strides towards the door, anticipation and excitement evident in his body language. “Danny, come on, let’s go. I’m driving.”
Chin Ho chuckled. “Well, you don’t have to look so excited about getting out of your tux fitting – we are talking about having to go into work here,” he said, raising his eyebrow at his boss.
“Are you kidding?” laughed Danny. “McGarrett loves work like a fat kid loves cake,” he quipped, casting a mock-guilty look in Kamekona’s direction. “No offense buddy, it’s uh, just a turn of phrase…”
“Oh I see how it is, haole,” Kamekona grumbled, and the banter continued all the way out the door.
Burberry sighed. Well, it was over. His source had been right – this shop had been the place to get some good intel. He was about to congratulate himself on a successful operation, when the door to the shop reopened.
To Burberry’s astonishment, Kamekona reappeared. Motioning to Burberry, he said in a low tone, “Ho, brah – almost walked out of here with these fabric samples – and I’m a parolee, brah. Wouldn’t do to walk off with any company property,” he said, with a knowing wink.
With a swiftness belied by his large size, Kamekona was out the door and down the street before Burberry could think what to say in response. He looked down at the the colors. Butter cup, cabarnet, paisley lavender sunset. Shifting the swatches from his right to his left hand, he noticed they were fraying. He turned them over to attend to the loose threads when some writing, in a hand he didn’t recognize, caught his eye.
Burberry chuckled to himself. He’d finally met his contact and could leave this undercover gig behind. Things in Honolulu were looking up.
Part Four Right Here!
We are halfway through Burberry McGarrett Week! Thank you all for reading & providing feedback. I really appreciate it. SO MUCH. I hope you had half as much fun reading this entry as I did writing it. However, I have to wonder how Infant knew I’d be making Burberry a little emo… it’s like we’re all on the same wavelength or something!
The line “loves it like a fat kid loves cake” is a shout-out to the hilarious FUCUP and loyal wife, Annie Oakley. Thanks for prompting the discussion that inspired this fic, Refugee! And thank you Momo for explicitly daring me to do it with the magic words, “it happened off screen.”
Finally, A Very Very Special Thanks to Ess, who really knows how to describe abdominal muscles, even when on Nyquil.