H50 fic
Title: Don’t Stop With The Longing
Pairing: Steve/Danno
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Fluffy little episode coda to 1x20 ‘Ma Ke Kahakai’.
Author’s note: First I talked myself out of writing a coda for an episode that’s clearly had enough slash in it as it is (Seriously writers? Subtle you are not.). Then that clusterfuck of a finale happened (Seriously writers? WTF?) and I’m not touching that hot mess with a ten-foot pole. So here I am going back to an idea I had months ago.
Disclaimer: Trust me, wishful thinking gets you nowhere. Not mine & no profit.
When Steve flirted with the waitress - well, not exactly flirted more sort of not shot down her advances immediately - this was not the outcome he expected. Sure, he did it to mess with Danny. Because maybe Steve has grown just the tiniest bit resentful of the way Danny flirts with virtually everyone they talk to. Not just the way he’s never shy of openly appreciating beauty and paying compliments. Though, truth be told, that irks Steve, too. At least it does when it’s not directed at him. He doesn’t mind so much when he can feel Danny’s gaze upon him every time he finds a reason to don his shirt on the job or when Danny tells him he looks like James Bond.
No, what really gets to him sometimes is the way Danny charms people without any effort. The way he banters and touches and calls people ‘babe’ left, right and center, and isn’t even aware of how endearing that really is. How he draws people like moths to the flame with all that pseudo-aggravation and playful wit. Even hardcore islanders, who should be rubbed the wrong way by Danny’s blatant embrace of his mainlander status, can’t help but take to the sheer in-your-faceness of the miniature Jersey hurricane. Steve knows what that feels like; he’s right there on the front line soaring too close to the flame.
Danny simply doesn’t keep anything in. He shares all of himself with the whole freaking world. Every thought, sentiment and emotion has to be expressed in a flurry of hand movements, comical facial expressions and random touches. It’s part of who he is and Steve wants him so bad he can barely keep a lid on all that desire. And yet, sometimes he wishes he could just lock Danny away. It’s crazy possessive in a way he has no right to be, but there it is. Steve doesn’t want to share Danny; he wants a part of Danny that doesn’t belong to anyone but him.
And maybe Steve feels like punishing Danny, just a little bit. Punish him for writing ‘I ♥ you’ into the sky - loud and bold and clear - when Steve’s been trying, trying oh so damn hard, not to read too much into this thing between them.
So Steve smiles at the waitress and pretends he’s interested; pretends he’s got eyes for anyone besides his partner who, as always, demands all his attention by making righteous affront look hot as hell. It’s just a bit of horseplay, a way of ruffling Danny’s feathers. And if he feels a small sliver of gratification when Danny blanches and heatedly defends his right to sign Steve’s cast, well, Steve figures he’s allowed to be a little vindictive.
He’s already forgotten all about it the moment the fireworks illuminate the dark Hawaiian sky, and so he finds himself somewhat blindsided by Danny’s delayed reaction. He certainly didn’t envision himself being pressed up against a wall by an angry Jersey detective and kissed to within an inch of his life. It’s depressing really, the way Danny always catches him off guard. One moment he is following the other man to the parking lot, lost in the ripple of muscles in the shorter man’s strong shoulders and the next Danny is whirling around, sneaking an arm around his back to shelter his injured side from the impact and pushing him hard into the side of the building. Before Steve can even process what’s happening Danny’s lips are already on him - hot and fierce and insistent.
Steve may be a little shell-shocked, but he’s got enough sense not to let a perfect opening go to waste. He kisses back with the hunger of the truly starved, drawing Danny closer and running his good arm up and down the shorter man’s solid back. He almost gets lost in the dizzying sensation of finally acting on that near constant impulse to just claim Danny’s mouth. It’s overwhelming, a sudden rush of lust leaving him desperate and weak-kneed until he’s all but clawing at his partner. All thought process fried by how fucking right it feels to have Danny moving against him, that agonizing friction and the precise messiness in the frantic press of lips. It’s wild and competitive and more than a little crazy; it’s, in fact, so much like them that Steve doesn’t know how they managed to dance around this for so long.
Understandably it takes Steve a while to focus on the fact that they are not exactly in a secluded location here. And even when his brain latches onto the fact that he is practically dry-humping his partner in a very, very visible spot, he can’t quite find it in himself to care. Danny’s usually the one to chastise him for his reckless actions, and if Steve knows Danny at all, this is sure to elicit one epic rant about public indecency once his partner realizes where they are.
“Danny,” Steve mumbles into the kiss, reluctantly trying to dislodge himself from the shorter man.
The only thing he accomplishes is Danny tightening his hold on him, slipping his tongue between Steve’s lips and deepening the kiss. Steve gently grasps Danny’s face with his free hand, wanting to hold him still while trying to draw back a little. Not an easy task when you’re being pressed against a wall. In the end he just leans his forehead against Danny’s and rushes his words into the curve of Danny’s lips.
“Someone could see,” he tries to alert his partner and gets a gruff, “Shut up,” for his troubles, before Danny attacks his mouth with renewed rigor.
Clearly Steve has no choice but to admit defeat, reclaiming Danny’s mouth and pouring everything into the kiss. Danny tastes sharp and warm, like alcohol and laughter. The scratch of his stubble contrasts tantalizingly with the velvety smoothness of his lips. And every fiber of Steve’s being tingles with persistent longing. Nothing should feel this ridiculously perfect, and yet, for a moment, the world beyond the violent burn of Danny pressing into him ceases to exist.
It’s not until Danny lets go of him to catch his breath that Steve notices the waitress from earlier staring at them over the roof of a car. Danny’s still leaning into him. He’s got his head turned towards the parking lot and he must see her too, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he grins at her, bright and unabashedly. His eyes are hard as granite, though, and he’s showing too much teeth. This, Steve realizes belatedly, is Danny marking his territory. It’s quite a revelation. Steve’s never had that before - someone staking a claim to him. He’s always made it clear from the start that he’s not looking for anything serious and so no one ever got possessive before. He isn’t prepared for how badly he wants this, how much it makes his heart ache.
Steve spent a god awful long time not getting attached to things or places or people, because nothing ever lasts. Nothing belongs to you forever, and it’s easier that way. But somehow that logic never applied to Danny. For all that he’s tiny in stature Danny is larger than life in every other aspect of his being, and Steve had no way of resisting that inexplicable force of attraction. He had no way of keeping his distance. All he could do was to try and keep it innocuous and friendly. And now Danny’s standing too close, staring down some girl that means absolutely nothing, with an almost feral glint in his eyes. The only way he could be anymore obvious is by screaming ‘hands off’ or ‘mine’ at the top of his lungs. If Steve weren’t in a state of absolute awe-stricken elation he would probably laugh at how positively absurd this is. It’s not like anyone else even stands a chance, after all. It’s not like Steve isn’t already horribly enamored with his Jersey boy. He wants to tell Danny that, wants to tease him mercilessly for his remarkable lack of subtlety, but mostly he just wants to pin him to the nearest horizontal surface and show him how much he appreciates this unexpected possessive streak.
“Fine,” he murmurs into Danny’s ear instead, allowing the smile to carry in his voice. “You get to sign my cast.”
“Seriously? Why do I even bother with you,” Danny asks in mock affront and glowers at him something fierce; it would, however, be a whole lot more convincing if he weren’t standing so close that Steve could feel the slight tremor and watch the goose bumps travel down his partner’s body.
“We should probably head back,” he adds reluctantly, confirming Steve’s suspicion that his whole stick about wanting to get something from the car and needing Steve to accompany him, because “how else can I keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t jump off any more cliffs, Superman?” was just an elaborate scheme to make the poor waitress witness him jumping his partners bones.
Their team is going to notice their absence eventually and so Steve can’t in good conscience drag him off to his bed and never let him leave again. He can, however, place his hand casually on the nape of Danny’s neck and let his thumb rub small circles into the other man’s flushed skin as they head back to their table.
When they return Kono and Chin are still wrapped up in their private family concern and Kamekona has managed to attract the attention of some female tourists. So Steve takes Danny’s hand into his, under the table, and carefully writes ‘I ♥ U 2’ into the light fur of Danny’s arm. He can feel Danny’s watchful gaze on his finger the whole time. When he looks up to meet Danny’s eyes he half expects him to make some joke about being back in high school, but Danny just grins at him, warm and serious and a little fond.
Steve can see all those words he is barely holding back in the sparkle of Danny’s eyes. Danny clutches his hand tightly. Fireworks are still going off in the background, and that small content smile that tugs at the corners of Danny’s lips belongs to no one but Steve.