Seven drabbles Mk V
Title: Seven drabbles Mk V
Pairing: Steve/ Danny
Rating: G to NC-17
Summary: Seven Steve/Danny drabbles (100 words each). Some happy, some angsty.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Some porn, some AU, prostitution, threesome.
Word count: 700 (100 x 7)
Author's note: A week's worth of drabbles (100 words each) written from the word-of-the-day and other prompts over at 1 million words.
Mediation (Word: Mediate)
For all his training - and thank God for that training - Steve's never had to mediate between two parties in a dispute that is quite so sensitive or quite so important before. Because if he manages to persuade the warring parties to agree to a cessation in hostilities - or at least to an uneasy truce- then life will be bearable, whereas if he fails he'll be living in a battle zone for weeks to come.
He'll give it his best shot. If Danny and his teenage daughter need a mediator to sort things out between them, then Steve's their man.
Written for the Scenes from a hat challenge.
Sleeping with the enemy
People always think that he must be the bed-hog, imagining him with long limbs sprawled commandingly across their shared bed, but they couldn't be more wrong. The real menace is slumbering snugly next to him, invisible save for a shock of blond hair poking out of one end of the duvet that's wrapped tightly around - and under - him, leaving Steve to shiver through yet another New Jersey night covered only by the merest fringe of bedding.
That's it, Steve thinks, grasping a fistful of duvet and preparing to pull. Enough is enough. Romance is dead; now it's war.
Proficient (Word: Proficient)
For a man normally so proficient at everything, Steve really is extraordinarily bad at this. The drop to one knee was graceful enough, he'll give himself that, but his fingers feel at least three sizes too large as he fumbles in the pocket of his cargo pants, and every carefully-planned word seems to have deserted his brain and fled along with his power of speech. In a gesture of mute desperation he thrusts the hand holding the tiny box up towards Danny and abandons himself to his fate.
"Seriously, babe," Danny says, shaking his head. "What took you so long?"
Declaration of independence (Word: Independence)
"I didn't ask to be born! I hate you so much!"
The words ring in his ears almost as loudly as the crash of the door as Grace slams out, and the subsequent resounding silence feels like teetering on the brink of the apocalypse… he takes a deep breath and turns, ready to weather the storm if Danny needs to let rip.
For a gut-wrenching second Steve thinks that Danny's finally succumbed to the coronary that Steve's been fearing, but then he realizes that Danny's actually convulsing with laughter.
"Oh babe," Danny says, "Who'd want to be a teenager again?"
Avoidance (Word: Retire)
In Danny's mind they've reached an impasse. Steve will never retire from the Navy and Danny can't commit to someone who might be snatched away at any moment and shipped off to God-knows-where to die for his country without so much as a by-your-leave. The Navy owns Steve, and Danny won't share him.
So when Steve steps too close, lingers too long, looks at him that way... Danny pretends not to see, not to feel, not to want...
It's better if Steve never knows he has a choice, because then Danny never has to feel the pain of being second-best.
Manners maketh the man (Word: Umbrage)
"Seriously? You're taking umbrage at that? I merely said that you being short..."
The blond man draws himself up to his full (if not considerable) height and says "Just because you're paying doesn't mean that I don't have rights! I'm not short, I'm compact!"
Steve rolls his eyes. Trust him to pick a hooker with a prickly temper and a thing for political correctness.
"OK, " he says, "I'm sorry, you're not short, you're compact. Now would you please get your compact ass over here and let me fuck it?"
The hooker grins at him. "Now that's more like it..."
Honeymoon
It's Rachel's idea, but Danny can't decide yet whether it's earth-shatteringly good or apocalyptically bad.
"Him, over there at the bar. Tall, dark and good-looking, just how you like them... I want to watch him fuck you, want him to bend you over and give it to you hard, and then if you've been good I'll let you fuck me," she murmurs in his ear, mouth hot against his skin.
Danny looks at her choice - tattoos inking tanned skin stretched over long, lean muscles - and worries that his new wife knows more about his proclivities than previously suspected...
Pairing: Steve/ Danny
Rating: G to NC-17
Summary: Seven Steve/Danny drabbles (100 words each). Some happy, some angsty.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Some porn, some AU, prostitution, threesome.
Word count: 700 (100 x 7)
Author's note: A week's worth of drabbles (100 words each) written from the word-of-the-day and other prompts over at 1 million words.
Mediation (Word: Mediate)
For all his training - and thank God for that training - Steve's never had to mediate between two parties in a dispute that is quite so sensitive or quite so important before. Because if he manages to persuade the warring parties to agree to a cessation in hostilities - or at least to an uneasy truce- then life will be bearable, whereas if he fails he'll be living in a battle zone for weeks to come.
He'll give it his best shot. If Danny and his teenage daughter need a mediator to sort things out between them, then Steve's their man.
Written for the Scenes from a hat challenge.
Sleeping with the enemy
People always think that he must be the bed-hog, imagining him with long limbs sprawled commandingly across their shared bed, but they couldn't be more wrong. The real menace is slumbering snugly next to him, invisible save for a shock of blond hair poking out of one end of the duvet that's wrapped tightly around - and under - him, leaving Steve to shiver through yet another New Jersey night covered only by the merest fringe of bedding.
That's it, Steve thinks, grasping a fistful of duvet and preparing to pull. Enough is enough. Romance is dead; now it's war.
Proficient (Word: Proficient)
For a man normally so proficient at everything, Steve really is extraordinarily bad at this. The drop to one knee was graceful enough, he'll give himself that, but his fingers feel at least three sizes too large as he fumbles in the pocket of his cargo pants, and every carefully-planned word seems to have deserted his brain and fled along with his power of speech. In a gesture of mute desperation he thrusts the hand holding the tiny box up towards Danny and abandons himself to his fate.
"Seriously, babe," Danny says, shaking his head. "What took you so long?"
Declaration of independence (Word: Independence)
"I didn't ask to be born! I hate you so much!"
The words ring in his ears almost as loudly as the crash of the door as Grace slams out, and the subsequent resounding silence feels like teetering on the brink of the apocalypse… he takes a deep breath and turns, ready to weather the storm if Danny needs to let rip.
For a gut-wrenching second Steve thinks that Danny's finally succumbed to the coronary that Steve's been fearing, but then he realizes that Danny's actually convulsing with laughter.
"Oh babe," Danny says, "Who'd want to be a teenager again?"
Avoidance (Word: Retire)
In Danny's mind they've reached an impasse. Steve will never retire from the Navy and Danny can't commit to someone who might be snatched away at any moment and shipped off to God-knows-where to die for his country without so much as a by-your-leave. The Navy owns Steve, and Danny won't share him.
So when Steve steps too close, lingers too long, looks at him that way... Danny pretends not to see, not to feel, not to want...
It's better if Steve never knows he has a choice, because then Danny never has to feel the pain of being second-best.
Manners maketh the man (Word: Umbrage)
"Seriously? You're taking umbrage at that? I merely said that you being short..."
The blond man draws himself up to his full (if not considerable) height and says "Just because you're paying doesn't mean that I don't have rights! I'm not short, I'm compact!"
Steve rolls his eyes. Trust him to pick a hooker with a prickly temper and a thing for political correctness.
"OK, " he says, "I'm sorry, you're not short, you're compact. Now would you please get your compact ass over here and let me fuck it?"
The hooker grins at him. "Now that's more like it..."
Honeymoon
It's Rachel's idea, but Danny can't decide yet whether it's earth-shatteringly good or apocalyptically bad.
"Him, over there at the bar. Tall, dark and good-looking, just how you like them... I want to watch him fuck you, want him to bend you over and give it to you hard, and then if you've been good I'll let you fuck me," she murmurs in his ear, mouth hot against his skin.
Danny looks at her choice - tattoos inking tanned skin stretched over long, lean muscles - and worries that his new wife knows more about his proclivities than previously suspected...