H50 Fic: Ready to Rock, Ready to Roll
***
Happy Sunday! Have some cliché fic!
***
Title: Ready to Rock, Ready to Roll
Author: kat_lair/ Mistress Kat
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some homophobic language
Word count: 1,565
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: The perks were... not bad. Verging on good even. - Shameless regurgitation of the ‘undercover as a couple’ trope.
Author notes: For maladroitoracle who wanted Steve and Danny pretending to be boyfriends. This developed a clichéd plot and a more fic-like word count. Damn thing. Unbetaed.
“No,” Danny says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Being firm is of little use though when no one even pretends to take him seriously.
Which is how he finds himself in the honeymoon suite with Steve as his newly wedded life partner. Danny doesn’t know what the current politically correct term is but he’s pretty sure ‘a giant pain in my ass’ is not it.
“Although...” Steve says, waggling his eyebrows in a way is probably meant to be witty and suave but just looks ridiculous.
“I’m going to stop you right there, because a) you should never do that with your eyebrows, they look like two caterpillars doing some kind of perverted mating dance, and b) don’t go assuming anything about whose ass will be hurting at the end of this.”
Steve’s face goes kind of blank for a few seconds there but before Danny has time to worry about it, the bellboy clears his throat.
“’Husband’ is fine, sweetheart,” Steve says, snapping right back into the role, his abnormally long orang-utan arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulder as they wait for the bellboy to finish showing them exactly how to work the Jacuzzi.
“I hate you so much right now,” Danny grits out through his teeth, digging his elbow accidentally-on-purpose into Steve’s ribs.
***
But really though, it’s not Steve’s fault that they had a homophobic killer on the loose and because Chin had been the one to interview the hotel staff he was out of the running for a role in ‘the most ridiculous undercover operation of the year’.
At least the perks were... not bad. Verging on good even.
“How many of those have you had?” Steve asks, dripping pool water all over Danny. He looks like a Playgirl spread, all tanned wet muscle and low hanging swimming shorts. The only thing ruining it is the epic bitch face he’s sporting
“Five. And now that you mention it, I really do need to go water the weasel as they say.” Danny swings his feet off the lounger, getting up.
“No one says that. And I can’t believe you’re drinking on the job,” Steve hisses. “Of all the irresponsible-”
“Relax, the cocktails were all virgins,” Danny hisses back, whilst pretending to lurch drunkenly right into Steve’s water slick chest. “I’m testing something.”
“What, my pectorals?” Steve asks, but his voice is full of amusement now, eyes sharp as he scans the poolside crowd over Danny’s shoulder. “A drunken target makes a vulnerable target. I get it.”
“Yeah, you do!” Danny exclaims loudly, leering for all his worth. “You gonna get it long and hard babe, all night through!”
Steve huffs in silent laughter and then in silent alarm as Danny plasters himself even closer, winding his arms around Steve’s neck. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Making it look good,” Danny whispers and yanks Steve’s head down, smashing their lips together.
It’s kind of awkward and their teeth click a little painfully, but then Steve’s posture relaxes and he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like ‘alright then’ and...
Well.
Steve’s hands settle on Danny’s hips, thumbs slotting into the twin dip of bone like they were made for it, and Danny’s fingers fist in Steve’s hair, tilting his head to a better angle and when he tugs, nails scraping Steve’s scalp, his mouth drops open and the sound escaping it is so indecent that Danny is left with no other option except swallow it.
Things get a little hazy there for several seconds until someone wolf-whistles at them and Danny comes back to himself amidst some good natured cat-calls and a partner who won’t meet his eyes.
“Um,” Danny says, blinking a little.
“Yeah.” Steve clears his throat. “You should...” He pushes Danny gently away from him.
“Okay yeah. You know, it’s kind of chilly now, think I’m going to... go and get dressed. In our room. Where there’s also a toilet and. Yeah.”
Danny grabs his towel and paperback book, heading toward the hotel, barely remembering to weave and stumble in order to maintain the illusion of being drunk off his ass.
Truth be told, he kind of wishes he was, because at least that would work as a convenient excuse.
***
Danny washes his hands three times, changes from shorts to jeans and t-shirt and then has a stern talk with himself about the importance of maintaining clear boundaries.
It doesn’t go well. Mainly because his brain is supplying him with things like ‘he started it’ and ‘isn’t it time to stop pretending?’ and, most damningly of all, a mental collage of Steve in various stages of undress for which there is no lack of material.
“Alright then,” Danny says to himself, echoing Steve’s words from earlier as he opens the suite door, ready to face the music. “I’m going go there and-”
“Burn in hell, you filthy faggot!” spits the man standing on the other side of the threshold, just before he punches Danny in the face.
***
Danny regains consciousness in a shed that smells of mildew and paint. He’s tied to a chair and the careful testing of the ropes tells him that getting out of them won’t be easy. There’s dried blood on his face and it itches like a motherfucker everywhere it doesn’t straight up hurt. The experience goes right into his ‘worst ten things to wake up to’ list, well above the time Grace was four and vomited all over the bed and him, because unpleasant as that was, it still involved his daughter.
This though only seems to involve buckets and mops and broken lounge chairs, one of which is occupied by a man in his mid-twenties. Something in Danny recoils at how young their perp is, because aren’t the kids his age supposed be past all that bigotry crap? But apparently not.
“Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind,” the man is saying. “It is an abomination. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind. It is an abomination. An abomination. An abomi-”
“Hey,” Danny interrupts his muttering. “Maybe you should try another verse for a change?”
The man, a kid really, whips around, his face distorted not with anger but with grief. “Be quiet! I don’t want to hear your lies, you serpent-tongued demon!”
Danny doesn’t think this is a time to make a crack about never before having had complaints about his tongue. So instead he says: “Wasn’t there one about loving your neighbour? I’ve always been fond of that one.”
In reply, the guy whacks him on a face with a Bible.
Danny spits out blood and takes the Lord’s name in vain. Repeatedly.
Then the man replaces the Holy Book with a knife and Danny starts shouting. He wrenches the chair forward, managing to topple over and knock both of them into the ground. The knife goes flying to the corner at the same time as someone kicks open the shed door.
Steve is standing on the doorway, still wearing his swim shorts but this time coupled with a bulletproof vest and a gun, and an expression that promises fire and brimstone on anyone who gets in his way.
On the floor, Danny starts laughing hysterically.
***
Twenty-four hours later he’s decidedly over his amusement and back into the more familiar feelings of irritation and exhaustion. All in all, the paperwork has taken almost as long as solving the case in the first place, which is just a world of wrong in Danny’s books.
His nose still hurts from the punch - who knew that religious fanatics could hit so hard - and he’s pining for a beer and his bed, preferably in that order.
“Hey, Danno. Ready to call it a day?” Steve’s voice is pitched low to suit an hour much later than the afternoon. He’s slouching on Danny’s office doorway, looking uncertain and kind of soft around the edges, worn and tired and imminently, imminently touchable.
On second thought, perhaps the beer and sleeping can wait.
“Been ready for longer than I realised,” Danny says with enough emphasis that even a bonehead like Steve will get it.
“Oh?” Steve straightens up and there’s something a lot like hope lurking the corners of his eyes, just where they wrinkle from the smile spreading over his face.
“Yeah, you goof,” Danny says, rolling his eyes. He grabs his jacket and walks up to Steve, tilting his head up to look him in the eye - and yeah, it’s still as annoying as always that he has to do that, but the way Steve is looking at him back -all open and happy - more than makes up to it.
“Come on then.” Danny pats Steve on the arm, letting his fingers slip under the sleeve of his t-shirt, right where the skin is all warm and smooth, stretched thin over Steve’s bicep. “Think we’re both about ready here,” he says.
Steve’s eyes have gone dark, his tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip in a move that’s both unconscious and filthy as anything. “I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he says gruffly.
Danny takes that as an invitation to see if he can encourage Steve to repeat the sound he’d made when they kissed by the pool - that needy little moan that had gone straight to Danny’s dick.
Turns out he can. And then some.
***
Happy Sunday! Have some cliché fic!
***
Title: Ready to Rock, Ready to Roll
Author: kat_lair/ Mistress Kat
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some homophobic language
Word count: 1,565
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: The perks were... not bad. Verging on good even. - Shameless regurgitation of the ‘undercover as a couple’ trope.
Author notes: For maladroitoracle who wanted Steve and Danny pretending to be boyfriends. This developed a clichéd plot and a more fic-like word count. Damn thing. Unbetaed.
“No,” Danny says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Being firm is of little use though when no one even pretends to take him seriously.
Which is how he finds himself in the honeymoon suite with Steve as his newly wedded life partner. Danny doesn’t know what the current politically correct term is but he’s pretty sure ‘a giant pain in my ass’ is not it.
“Although...” Steve says, waggling his eyebrows in a way is probably meant to be witty and suave but just looks ridiculous.
“I’m going to stop you right there, because a) you should never do that with your eyebrows, they look like two caterpillars doing some kind of perverted mating dance, and b) don’t go assuming anything about whose ass will be hurting at the end of this.”
Steve’s face goes kind of blank for a few seconds there but before Danny has time to worry about it, the bellboy clears his throat.
“’Husband’ is fine, sweetheart,” Steve says, snapping right back into the role, his abnormally long orang-utan arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulder as they wait for the bellboy to finish showing them exactly how to work the Jacuzzi.
“I hate you so much right now,” Danny grits out through his teeth, digging his elbow accidentally-on-purpose into Steve’s ribs.
***
But really though, it’s not Steve’s fault that they had a homophobic killer on the loose and because Chin had been the one to interview the hotel staff he was out of the running for a role in ‘the most ridiculous undercover operation of the year’.
At least the perks were... not bad. Verging on good even.
“How many of those have you had?” Steve asks, dripping pool water all over Danny. He looks like a Playgirl spread, all tanned wet muscle and low hanging swimming shorts. The only thing ruining it is the epic bitch face he’s sporting
“Five. And now that you mention it, I really do need to go water the weasel as they say.” Danny swings his feet off the lounger, getting up.
“No one says that. And I can’t believe you’re drinking on the job,” Steve hisses. “Of all the irresponsible-”
“Relax, the cocktails were all virgins,” Danny hisses back, whilst pretending to lurch drunkenly right into Steve’s water slick chest. “I’m testing something.”
“What, my pectorals?” Steve asks, but his voice is full of amusement now, eyes sharp as he scans the poolside crowd over Danny’s shoulder. “A drunken target makes a vulnerable target. I get it.”
“Yeah, you do!” Danny exclaims loudly, leering for all his worth. “You gonna get it long and hard babe, all night through!”
Steve huffs in silent laughter and then in silent alarm as Danny plasters himself even closer, winding his arms around Steve’s neck. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Making it look good,” Danny whispers and yanks Steve’s head down, smashing their lips together.
It’s kind of awkward and their teeth click a little painfully, but then Steve’s posture relaxes and he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like ‘alright then’ and...
Well.
Steve’s hands settle on Danny’s hips, thumbs slotting into the twin dip of bone like they were made for it, and Danny’s fingers fist in Steve’s hair, tilting his head to a better angle and when he tugs, nails scraping Steve’s scalp, his mouth drops open and the sound escaping it is so indecent that Danny is left with no other option except swallow it.
Things get a little hazy there for several seconds until someone wolf-whistles at them and Danny comes back to himself amidst some good natured cat-calls and a partner who won’t meet his eyes.
“Um,” Danny says, blinking a little.
“Yeah.” Steve clears his throat. “You should...” He pushes Danny gently away from him.
“Okay yeah. You know, it’s kind of chilly now, think I’m going to... go and get dressed. In our room. Where there’s also a toilet and. Yeah.”
Danny grabs his towel and paperback book, heading toward the hotel, barely remembering to weave and stumble in order to maintain the illusion of being drunk off his ass.
Truth be told, he kind of wishes he was, because at least that would work as a convenient excuse.
***
Danny washes his hands three times, changes from shorts to jeans and t-shirt and then has a stern talk with himself about the importance of maintaining clear boundaries.
It doesn’t go well. Mainly because his brain is supplying him with things like ‘he started it’ and ‘isn’t it time to stop pretending?’ and, most damningly of all, a mental collage of Steve in various stages of undress for which there is no lack of material.
“Alright then,” Danny says to himself, echoing Steve’s words from earlier as he opens the suite door, ready to face the music. “I’m going go there and-”
“Burn in hell, you filthy faggot!” spits the man standing on the other side of the threshold, just before he punches Danny in the face.
***
Danny regains consciousness in a shed that smells of mildew and paint. He’s tied to a chair and the careful testing of the ropes tells him that getting out of them won’t be easy. There’s dried blood on his face and it itches like a motherfucker everywhere it doesn’t straight up hurt. The experience goes right into his ‘worst ten things to wake up to’ list, well above the time Grace was four and vomited all over the bed and him, because unpleasant as that was, it still involved his daughter.
This though only seems to involve buckets and mops and broken lounge chairs, one of which is occupied by a man in his mid-twenties. Something in Danny recoils at how young their perp is, because aren’t the kids his age supposed be past all that bigotry crap? But apparently not.
“Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind,” the man is saying. “It is an abomination. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind. It is an abomination. An abomination. An abomi-”
“Hey,” Danny interrupts his muttering. “Maybe you should try another verse for a change?”
The man, a kid really, whips around, his face distorted not with anger but with grief. “Be quiet! I don’t want to hear your lies, you serpent-tongued demon!”
Danny doesn’t think this is a time to make a crack about never before having had complaints about his tongue. So instead he says: “Wasn’t there one about loving your neighbour? I’ve always been fond of that one.”
In reply, the guy whacks him on a face with a Bible.
Danny spits out blood and takes the Lord’s name in vain. Repeatedly.
Then the man replaces the Holy Book with a knife and Danny starts shouting. He wrenches the chair forward, managing to topple over and knock both of them into the ground. The knife goes flying to the corner at the same time as someone kicks open the shed door.
Steve is standing on the doorway, still wearing his swim shorts but this time coupled with a bulletproof vest and a gun, and an expression that promises fire and brimstone on anyone who gets in his way.
On the floor, Danny starts laughing hysterically.
***
Twenty-four hours later he’s decidedly over his amusement and back into the more familiar feelings of irritation and exhaustion. All in all, the paperwork has taken almost as long as solving the case in the first place, which is just a world of wrong in Danny’s books.
His nose still hurts from the punch - who knew that religious fanatics could hit so hard - and he’s pining for a beer and his bed, preferably in that order.
“Hey, Danno. Ready to call it a day?” Steve’s voice is pitched low to suit an hour much later than the afternoon. He’s slouching on Danny’s office doorway, looking uncertain and kind of soft around the edges, worn and tired and imminently, imminently touchable.
On second thought, perhaps the beer and sleeping can wait.
“Been ready for longer than I realised,” Danny says with enough emphasis that even a bonehead like Steve will get it.
“Oh?” Steve straightens up and there’s something a lot like hope lurking the corners of his eyes, just where they wrinkle from the smile spreading over his face.
“Yeah, you goof,” Danny says, rolling his eyes. He grabs his jacket and walks up to Steve, tilting his head up to look him in the eye - and yeah, it’s still as annoying as always that he has to do that, but the way Steve is looking at him back -all open and happy - more than makes up to it.
“Come on then.” Danny pats Steve on the arm, letting his fingers slip under the sleeve of his t-shirt, right where the skin is all warm and smooth, stretched thin over Steve’s bicep. “Think we’re both about ready here,” he says.
Steve’s eyes have gone dark, his tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip in a move that’s both unconscious and filthy as anything. “I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he says gruffly.
Danny takes that as an invitation to see if he can encourage Steve to repeat the sound he’d made when they kissed by the pool - that needy little moan that had gone straight to Danny’s dick.
Turns out he can. And then some.
***