(no subject)
Title: A Safe Bet
Rating: PG.13
Warnings/spoilers: spoilers for 2.23. Excessive amounts of nuzzling?
Pairing: Steve/Danny.
Summary: Steve has been sleeping next to Danny for long enough to know when something is wrong. A story in which our intrepid pair discuss custody battles and how they'll cope, side by side. (Season two finale tag).
This is a bit of a hot mess. It started out as something else entirely, with CIA agents and snark. Not too sure what happened. I seem to always write fanfic, when I should, in fact, be writing something for uni that will get me actual marks. Gasp! Thanks for nothing, brain.
---
Steve drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t usually one for dozing - years of military training had turned sleep into something of an exercise. It was an allocated time in which you recouped your energy. It was a strategically convenient moment in which you prepared for the next day, the next mission. SEALs weren’t taught to snuggle into their blankets and enjoy - no blankets when you’re catching zees fifteen feet up a tree with a rifle hooked over your shoulder.
Danny, on the other hand, had turned sleep into an art-form. He was all fluffy bed-hair and crumpled boxers and snoozy snuffles. Steve swore that if you sat still for long enough, you could visually track the spread of his blonde stubble across his cheeks.
When they’d first started sleeping together, it had been a lesson in patience. Not the actual sex, hell no. That had been the product of spectacular impatience. But sharing a bed, sharing a house, even sharing a life, was tough work. No matter how stupidly you loved the person.
To Steve’s immense surprise, it had been the sleepy snuffles that had caused the most problems. Oh sure, the mess was annoying, but it could be dealt with - in fact, it was being dealt with. Steve was pretty sure that no weapon in the world could save him if Danny ever noodled out his master plan, in which acts of cleanliness were rewarded by sexual favours. Hang up all the washing? Get a hand-job. Do the dishes? Get bent over the kitchen table. The morning Danny had taken the trash outside of his own volition, it had been all Steve could do not to take him up against the tree in their front-yard .
However, there was nothing Steve could do about the dopey mumbles that spilled freely out of Danny in the early morning. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that Danny talked in his sleep - he didn’t. Rather, he whispered random words, as though caught in an argument with his dreams.
It had taken a few months of fitful starts and aborted reaches for his gun before Steve had learned to cope. There had been one particularly eventful morning, when Danny had urgently snuffled get down! that Steve had hit the deck so fast he’d bruised his knee.
In a fit of desperation, he’d asked Rachel about it. It had been one of the less dignified experiences of his life, asking his partner’s ex-wife how she had dealt with Mr. Mumbly. To his surprise, she hadn’t known what he was talking about. She’d always considered Danny a dangerously still and silent sleeper, to the point where it had left her unsettled.
In his more sentimental moments, Steve considered the possibility that Danny finally felt safe, now that he was sleeping next to someone he could trust to protect him.
So. Steve decided that maybe the snuffling was something that he wanted to enjoy, or would at least tolerate for Danny’s sake. He hadn’t laughed so hard in years, as he had when presented with a sleepy yet horrified, no, pineapple, no, no. Really, how could he not love his life when it contained an indignant Danny?
Eventually, Steve had learned all the tricks of the trade. He’d learned that if he talked to Danny, entertained his partner’s sleepy words, he would immediately quiet down. He’d learned that a hand on the small of Danny’s back would keep him from shuffling around the bed like a bag of beans. Months of sleeping side by side had made Steve an expert on all things Danny.
Which was how, even as he now drifted in and out of consciousness, he knew that something was wrong. Beside him, Danny was coiled tight, his breath silent, his chest barely inching out and in. There was no movement, no snuffling, no cursing prickly fruit. Somewhere along the way he’d gotten used to the kind of bed-mate who flopped all over the place and accidentally elbowed him in the belly. This dangerously calm and unobtrusive partner was making Steve crazy. It wasn’t Danny. It wasn’t his Danny. He could now easily understand how Rachel had been unsettled by the frozen body that slept next to him.
Forlorn, he blinked himself awake, taking care not to move, even though the early morning streaks of sunlight were hitting him squarely in the eye. He suspected that Danny would startle if a pin even contemplated dropping.
He was so caught up in his worry that he didn’t notice that Danny was awake, until a whispered, “I don’t know if I can afford it,” caught his attention.
Steve frowned, perplexed. “What?”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but Danny’s body tensed even more tightly. “Lawyers. I have a good case, but Stan is swimming in money. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know how it got to this, fighting over Grace, she’s a human being, not an end-table. I just…” Danny trailed off, apparently lost in thought. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”
Now Steve was genuinely confused. He scooted closer, pressing his chest to Danny’s, bumping their noses together gently. “What are you talking about, of course we can afford it? We might not have as much money as Stan, but babe, come on, immunity and means.” He flashed a devilish grin. “I’ve got some pull on this island.”
Danny chuckled, but it was still a touch melancholy. “Steve, I swear, if you threaten the Judge, we will have words, many many words. Angry words, which I think you’ll recall are my favourite.”
Steve didn’t deign to respond, merely contented himself with pressing soft kisses to the bumps and angles of Danny’s throat. After a few moments of nipping and nuzzling, he pulled back, mind caught on a thought. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be in this with you?”
Danny had the good graces to look suitably guilty.
“Did you really think,” Steve continued, “that I wouldn’t help pay? There’s no “my own” in a friendship, remember? And,” he smoothed his palm over the curve of Danny’s ass, “I think we’re beyond friendship.”
Danny nodded, a quick curt indication of acceptance, but his eyes had relaxed considerably. “I know. I’m sorry. But what are we going to do if I… if we, lose? I have to be with her. And you’ve just brought your mum back here, your family is just starting again. What the hell happens if you need to be here, and I need to be somewhere else?”
Honestly. Steve had never really thought that he’d be the genius in any relationship, but Danny was particularly dense. “You’re an idiot. My family started the day you had too much to drink and ambushed me in the shower.”
At even the mere memory, the tips of Danny’s ears turned pink.
“If we lose - and, by the way, do I strike you as someone who ever loses? No, no I do not - then you go where Grace goes, and I go where you go. You know I love Grace. Come on, Danny, it’s pretty simple.”
Danny shook his head. “We shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t have to go traipsing around the country, with no control over anything.”
Steve could sense that Danny was working himself back into a grumble. “I know,” he soothed. “I know. All I’m saying is, when it comes to me? I’m a safe bet, okay?”
Finally, Steve was rewarded with a genuine chuckle. They lay there, indulging in a few slow lazy kisses, until a much more relaxed Danny finally fell back to sleep, his head tucked to Steve’s shoulder and his limbs loose.
Steve himself was just on the verge of drifting off, when a comforting snuffle whispered through the quiet air. Mmmwalkthedog.
Steve smiled, rested his hand on the small of Danny's back. “Sure thing, partner, sure thing.”
----
Also on AO3
Rating: PG.13
Warnings/spoilers: spoilers for 2.23. Excessive amounts of nuzzling?
Pairing: Steve/Danny.
Summary: Steve has been sleeping next to Danny for long enough to know when something is wrong. A story in which our intrepid pair discuss custody battles and how they'll cope, side by side. (Season two finale tag).
This is a bit of a hot mess. It started out as something else entirely, with CIA agents and snark. Not too sure what happened. I seem to always write fanfic, when I should, in fact, be writing something for uni that will get me actual marks. Gasp! Thanks for nothing, brain.
---
Steve drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t usually one for dozing - years of military training had turned sleep into something of an exercise. It was an allocated time in which you recouped your energy. It was a strategically convenient moment in which you prepared for the next day, the next mission. SEALs weren’t taught to snuggle into their blankets and enjoy - no blankets when you’re catching zees fifteen feet up a tree with a rifle hooked over your shoulder.
Danny, on the other hand, had turned sleep into an art-form. He was all fluffy bed-hair and crumpled boxers and snoozy snuffles. Steve swore that if you sat still for long enough, you could visually track the spread of his blonde stubble across his cheeks.
When they’d first started sleeping together, it had been a lesson in patience. Not the actual sex, hell no. That had been the product of spectacular impatience. But sharing a bed, sharing a house, even sharing a life, was tough work. No matter how stupidly you loved the person.
To Steve’s immense surprise, it had been the sleepy snuffles that had caused the most problems. Oh sure, the mess was annoying, but it could be dealt with - in fact, it was being dealt with. Steve was pretty sure that no weapon in the world could save him if Danny ever noodled out his master plan, in which acts of cleanliness were rewarded by sexual favours. Hang up all the washing? Get a hand-job. Do the dishes? Get bent over the kitchen table. The morning Danny had taken the trash outside of his own volition, it had been all Steve could do not to take him up against the tree in their front-yard .
However, there was nothing Steve could do about the dopey mumbles that spilled freely out of Danny in the early morning. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that Danny talked in his sleep - he didn’t. Rather, he whispered random words, as though caught in an argument with his dreams.
It had taken a few months of fitful starts and aborted reaches for his gun before Steve had learned to cope. There had been one particularly eventful morning, when Danny had urgently snuffled get down! that Steve had hit the deck so fast he’d bruised his knee.
In a fit of desperation, he’d asked Rachel about it. It had been one of the less dignified experiences of his life, asking his partner’s ex-wife how she had dealt with Mr. Mumbly. To his surprise, she hadn’t known what he was talking about. She’d always considered Danny a dangerously still and silent sleeper, to the point where it had left her unsettled.
In his more sentimental moments, Steve considered the possibility that Danny finally felt safe, now that he was sleeping next to someone he could trust to protect him.
So. Steve decided that maybe the snuffling was something that he wanted to enjoy, or would at least tolerate for Danny’s sake. He hadn’t laughed so hard in years, as he had when presented with a sleepy yet horrified, no, pineapple, no, no. Really, how could he not love his life when it contained an indignant Danny?
Eventually, Steve had learned all the tricks of the trade. He’d learned that if he talked to Danny, entertained his partner’s sleepy words, he would immediately quiet down. He’d learned that a hand on the small of Danny’s back would keep him from shuffling around the bed like a bag of beans. Months of sleeping side by side had made Steve an expert on all things Danny.
Which was how, even as he now drifted in and out of consciousness, he knew that something was wrong. Beside him, Danny was coiled tight, his breath silent, his chest barely inching out and in. There was no movement, no snuffling, no cursing prickly fruit. Somewhere along the way he’d gotten used to the kind of bed-mate who flopped all over the place and accidentally elbowed him in the belly. This dangerously calm and unobtrusive partner was making Steve crazy. It wasn’t Danny. It wasn’t his Danny. He could now easily understand how Rachel had been unsettled by the frozen body that slept next to him.
Forlorn, he blinked himself awake, taking care not to move, even though the early morning streaks of sunlight were hitting him squarely in the eye. He suspected that Danny would startle if a pin even contemplated dropping.
He was so caught up in his worry that he didn’t notice that Danny was awake, until a whispered, “I don’t know if I can afford it,” caught his attention.
Steve frowned, perplexed. “What?”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but Danny’s body tensed even more tightly. “Lawyers. I have a good case, but Stan is swimming in money. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know how it got to this, fighting over Grace, she’s a human being, not an end-table. I just…” Danny trailed off, apparently lost in thought. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”
Now Steve was genuinely confused. He scooted closer, pressing his chest to Danny’s, bumping their noses together gently. “What are you talking about, of course we can afford it? We might not have as much money as Stan, but babe, come on, immunity and means.” He flashed a devilish grin. “I’ve got some pull on this island.”
Danny chuckled, but it was still a touch melancholy. “Steve, I swear, if you threaten the Judge, we will have words, many many words. Angry words, which I think you’ll recall are my favourite.”
Steve didn’t deign to respond, merely contented himself with pressing soft kisses to the bumps and angles of Danny’s throat. After a few moments of nipping and nuzzling, he pulled back, mind caught on a thought. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be in this with you?”
Danny had the good graces to look suitably guilty.
“Did you really think,” Steve continued, “that I wouldn’t help pay? There’s no “my own” in a friendship, remember? And,” he smoothed his palm over the curve of Danny’s ass, “I think we’re beyond friendship.”
Danny nodded, a quick curt indication of acceptance, but his eyes had relaxed considerably. “I know. I’m sorry. But what are we going to do if I… if we, lose? I have to be with her. And you’ve just brought your mum back here, your family is just starting again. What the hell happens if you need to be here, and I need to be somewhere else?”
Honestly. Steve had never really thought that he’d be the genius in any relationship, but Danny was particularly dense. “You’re an idiot. My family started the day you had too much to drink and ambushed me in the shower.”
At even the mere memory, the tips of Danny’s ears turned pink.
“If we lose - and, by the way, do I strike you as someone who ever loses? No, no I do not - then you go where Grace goes, and I go where you go. You know I love Grace. Come on, Danny, it’s pretty simple.”
Danny shook his head. “We shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t have to go traipsing around the country, with no control over anything.”
Steve could sense that Danny was working himself back into a grumble. “I know,” he soothed. “I know. All I’m saying is, when it comes to me? I’m a safe bet, okay?”
Finally, Steve was rewarded with a genuine chuckle. They lay there, indulging in a few slow lazy kisses, until a much more relaxed Danny finally fell back to sleep, his head tucked to Steve’s shoulder and his limbs loose.
Steve himself was just on the verge of drifting off, when a comforting snuffle whispered through the quiet air. Mmmwalkthedog.
Steve smiled, rested his hand on the small of Danny's back. “Sure thing, partner, sure thing.”
----
Also on AO3