Prompted ficlet #2
For sgflutegirl who gave me H5-0, Steve/Danny, secret, fire, scars. And I can pretty much guarentee my brain is not where her's is. :)
986 words
NC17 (if only just)
All Fired Up
He blamed Walt Disney. Well, he also blamed the fact that Steve I'll-Just-Bounce-You-On-Your-Head-Until-You-Confess McGarrett was unable to say no to a ten year old, but, mostly, Danny blamed Walt Disney.
Back when she found out she was moving to Hawaii, Grace had pretty much memorized Lilo and Stitch. Once she got to Hawaii, she'd started begging to see fire dancers. Stan, the over-achieving son of a bitch, had taken her to a dance festival at the Polynesian Cultural Center where she'd learned the differences between the hula and Tahitian fire dancing and fire stick dancing and some stomping dance the Maori did which, given New Zealand and all, seemed a little bit a distance from Hawaii. But Grace had loved it. And then continued begging to see dancing like in Lilo and Stitch. As far as Danny could tell, given repeated viewings of the movie, that meant incompetently done, but then Steve, who evidently had a heart of mush behind all that SuperSeal bullshit, had taken up the challenge.
So here they were at the Waimanalo Community Hall at a recital by the local dance school. Given that this was Hawaii, the community hall was mostly outside, there was a shave ice stand - "Not as good as Kamekona's," Grace confided quietly. -- and Steve had gone to school with the dance teacher.
"Danny Williams, Sam Kusaka."
Kusaka was not a particularly good looking man. No denying he was in amazing shape - most of which was on display, given the sarong - but his angular face was heavily pock marked and his eyes were almost entirely overwhelmed by heavy black brows.
"So you're Steve's...?" Sam asked, extending a hand.
"Partner," Danny said, taking it. Black brows rose slightly but Danny wasn't explaining. What they were -- professionally, personally -- well, partner covered it. "And this..." He released Sam's hand and laid his on Grace's shoulder. "...is my daughter, Grace."
Sam's smile involved his whole face; sank deep dimples into his cheeks, lit up his eyes, and revised Danny's opinion on his attractiveness, moving the other man from not interested to I'd hit that, were I not already involved with the best looking guy on the islands who is not only scarily possessive but leaves me too fucking exhausted to even speculate.
"Aloha ahiahi, Grace."
"Aloha ahiahi, Mr. Kusaka." She cocked her head to one side, lips stained blue from the shave ice. "Steve says you taught everyone we'll see tonight. Is that true?"
"That's true."
"Even the fire stick dancers?"
His smile broadened. "Even them. Did Steve tell you I tried to teach him once, back when we were not much older than you?"
"No." Grace aimed a speculative stare at Steve and Danny grinned. She'd picked up that particular expression from his mother and he was thrilled to see she'd brought it to Hawaii with her. "He didn't."
Any possible expansion of the story was abruptly cut off by the frantic mother of one of the dancers looking for Sam. As he was dragged off behind the palm frond backdrop on the stage, Grace dragged Steve and Danny to their seats in the fifth row.
"Keeping secrets, Steven?" Danny murmured as a line of children in grass skirts came out to take their places.
"Secrets?"
Danny nodded toward the stage. "You never told me you used to do that whole dances with fire thing."
"I didn't, I..."
"Shhhhh!" Grace turned, finger against her lips, and gave them both her grandmother's patented if you don't shut-up right now I'll make you so sorry expression. That one, Danny allowed, she could have left in New Jersey.
The kids were cute, the teenagers were a lot more graceful than Danny had expected they'd be, and the fire stick dancers were everything Grace had wanted since she came to Hawaii. Turned out the fifth row was the perfect row; any closer and they'd have had to run screaming from the burning palm fronds when the stage ignited.
Later, with Grace asleep in Mary's old room - rapidly becoming her room - Danny sat down on the edge of Steve's bed - rapidly becoming their bed - and said, "Seriously, why didn't you tell me about the fire thing? If tonight was any indication, it's exactly the sort of extremely dangerous shit little Stevie McGarrett would be into."
"Folk dancing?"
"Folk dancing with fire, Steven." Danny tapped his finger on Steve's bare chest. "Fire. The thing that parents on the mainland don't want their kids playing with."
Steve shrugged. "I didn't tell you because I didn't do it long and, frankly, I sucked at it. Dropped the stick on my shoulder, melted my t-shirt into the burn, and Sam's mother had to take me into emergency." While he was talking his left hand came up to rub his right shoulder.
Danny leaned in and squinted down at a lopsided oval of discoloured skin. In spite of a slight ridge on one side it wasn't so much a scar as the memory of a scar. Especially compared to the more blatant damage Steve's body had picked up over the years. It tasted warm and a little salty under Danny's lips.
"Is this the first?" he asked, watching goose bumps rise on Steve's skin.
"First?"
"Scar."
"If you don't count the one from my circumcision."
Steve was wearing his Aren't I Clever face when Danny sat back.
Which morphed into something a lot darker, more primeval, as Danny kept moving down the bed, dragging the covers with him. "Then I should start here," he murmured, dropping his head to mouth along the side of Steve's rapidly filling cock, leaving damp patterns on the fabric of his boxer briefs. "Start here. Kiss them all better."
When he found himself humming Someday my Prince Will Come, lowering his mouth to meet the circle of his fist while Steve writhed under him, Danny absolutely blamed Walt Disney.
986 words
NC17 (if only just)
All Fired Up
He blamed Walt Disney. Well, he also blamed the fact that Steve I'll-Just-Bounce-You-On-Your-Head-Until-You-Confess McGarrett was unable to say no to a ten year old, but, mostly, Danny blamed Walt Disney.
Back when she found out she was moving to Hawaii, Grace had pretty much memorized Lilo and Stitch. Once she got to Hawaii, she'd started begging to see fire dancers. Stan, the over-achieving son of a bitch, had taken her to a dance festival at the Polynesian Cultural Center where she'd learned the differences between the hula and Tahitian fire dancing and fire stick dancing and some stomping dance the Maori did which, given New Zealand and all, seemed a little bit a distance from Hawaii. But Grace had loved it. And then continued begging to see dancing like in Lilo and Stitch. As far as Danny could tell, given repeated viewings of the movie, that meant incompetently done, but then Steve, who evidently had a heart of mush behind all that SuperSeal bullshit, had taken up the challenge.
So here they were at the Waimanalo Community Hall at a recital by the local dance school. Given that this was Hawaii, the community hall was mostly outside, there was a shave ice stand - "Not as good as Kamekona's," Grace confided quietly. -- and Steve had gone to school with the dance teacher.
"Danny Williams, Sam Kusaka."
Kusaka was not a particularly good looking man. No denying he was in amazing shape - most of which was on display, given the sarong - but his angular face was heavily pock marked and his eyes were almost entirely overwhelmed by heavy black brows.
"So you're Steve's...?" Sam asked, extending a hand.
"Partner," Danny said, taking it. Black brows rose slightly but Danny wasn't explaining. What they were -- professionally, personally -- well, partner covered it. "And this..." He released Sam's hand and laid his on Grace's shoulder. "...is my daughter, Grace."
Sam's smile involved his whole face; sank deep dimples into his cheeks, lit up his eyes, and revised Danny's opinion on his attractiveness, moving the other man from not interested to I'd hit that, were I not already involved with the best looking guy on the islands who is not only scarily possessive but leaves me too fucking exhausted to even speculate.
"Aloha ahiahi, Grace."
"Aloha ahiahi, Mr. Kusaka." She cocked her head to one side, lips stained blue from the shave ice. "Steve says you taught everyone we'll see tonight. Is that true?"
"That's true."
"Even the fire stick dancers?"
His smile broadened. "Even them. Did Steve tell you I tried to teach him once, back when we were not much older than you?"
"No." Grace aimed a speculative stare at Steve and Danny grinned. She'd picked up that particular expression from his mother and he was thrilled to see she'd brought it to Hawaii with her. "He didn't."
Any possible expansion of the story was abruptly cut off by the frantic mother of one of the dancers looking for Sam. As he was dragged off behind the palm frond backdrop on the stage, Grace dragged Steve and Danny to their seats in the fifth row.
"Keeping secrets, Steven?" Danny murmured as a line of children in grass skirts came out to take their places.
"Secrets?"
Danny nodded toward the stage. "You never told me you used to do that whole dances with fire thing."
"I didn't, I..."
"Shhhhh!" Grace turned, finger against her lips, and gave them both her grandmother's patented if you don't shut-up right now I'll make you so sorry expression. That one, Danny allowed, she could have left in New Jersey.
The kids were cute, the teenagers were a lot more graceful than Danny had expected they'd be, and the fire stick dancers were everything Grace had wanted since she came to Hawaii. Turned out the fifth row was the perfect row; any closer and they'd have had to run screaming from the burning palm fronds when the stage ignited.
Later, with Grace asleep in Mary's old room - rapidly becoming her room - Danny sat down on the edge of Steve's bed - rapidly becoming their bed - and said, "Seriously, why didn't you tell me about the fire thing? If tonight was any indication, it's exactly the sort of extremely dangerous shit little Stevie McGarrett would be into."
"Folk dancing?"
"Folk dancing with fire, Steven." Danny tapped his finger on Steve's bare chest. "Fire. The thing that parents on the mainland don't want their kids playing with."
Steve shrugged. "I didn't tell you because I didn't do it long and, frankly, I sucked at it. Dropped the stick on my shoulder, melted my t-shirt into the burn, and Sam's mother had to take me into emergency." While he was talking his left hand came up to rub his right shoulder.
Danny leaned in and squinted down at a lopsided oval of discoloured skin. In spite of a slight ridge on one side it wasn't so much a scar as the memory of a scar. Especially compared to the more blatant damage Steve's body had picked up over the years. It tasted warm and a little salty under Danny's lips.
"Is this the first?" he asked, watching goose bumps rise on Steve's skin.
"First?"
"Scar."
"If you don't count the one from my circumcision."
Steve was wearing his Aren't I Clever face when Danny sat back.
Which morphed into something a lot darker, more primeval, as Danny kept moving down the bed, dragging the covers with him. "Then I should start here," he murmured, dropping his head to mouth along the side of Steve's rapidly filling cock, leaving damp patterns on the fabric of his boxer briefs. "Start here. Kiss them all better."
When he found himself humming Someday my Prince Will Come, lowering his mouth to meet the circle of his fist while Steve writhed under him, Danny absolutely blamed Walt Disney.