H50 fic: Fall Madly in Bed (Steve/Danny, NC-17)
Title: Fall Madly in Bed
Author: Zinnith
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: ~4800
Summary: Danny has a bad day and Steve is the opposite of smooth.
"Did you... sorry, did you just kiss me to cheer me up?"
Notes: Thank you, anyanka_eg for the quick beta!
Fall Madly in Bed
It would be nice to be able to say that they always win. It would be nice to be able to say that they have a 100% success rate, that they close all their cases, that the bad guys always end up behind bars.
That’s probably what it would be like to live in a TV-show, Steve reflects. In real life, there are fuck-ups and mistakes and bad luck and sometimes the bad guys just have expensive lawyers and get to walk away scot-free to continue peddling drugs to high-school kids.
“This sucks,” Kono mutters. The team is standing on the courthouse steps, watching Kenny Mitchell get into a far too nice car and drive away. Kono’s not used to defeat yet and she’s letting it get to her, glaring darkly at the departing Mercedes.
“It does,” Chin agrees, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to offer what little comfort he has to give.
Danny doesn’t say anything. His eyes are hollow from too little sleep and his shoulders are tense from hours and hours of wretched paperwork and he looks hot and uncomfortable in the suit he insists on wearing on court days. Steve does his best to resist the ever-present urge to reach out and muss up Danny’s well-gelled hair, loosen his tie, wrinkle his shirt. This is not the right time nor the right place and it probably wouldn't be welcome.
It didn’t take Steve long to learn that when Danny is bitching and his hands stay in constant motion, all is well. When Danny goes quiet, that’s when it’s time to start worrying.
“What now, boss?” Chin asks, looking at Steve like he’s supposed to have answers. A few different options comes to mind, but the only one that wouldn’t violate too many laws for the governor to be comfortable with is to go back to HQ and start all over again until they can find something to nail Mitchell with.
But not right now. It’s been a tough few weeks and they’re all exhausted. Even Steve is beginning to feel the strain. “Let’s take what's left of the day off,” he says. “Relax, get some rest.”
“Start over tomorrow with fresh eyes.” Chin nods in agreement and turns to Kono. “North Shore?”
Steve wouldn’t mind a few hours of waves himself, to clear his head and find his balance again,
but the suggestion probably wouldn’t go over well with Danny so other measures need to be taken. He trails after Danny to the Camaro, waits for him to unlock the door and then gently shoulder-checks him out of the way. Danny throws his hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture and that’s at least something. Now, if he would just start talking again.
“We’re going to my place,” Steve says and opens the door on the driver’s side.
“So you’re kidnapping me now? And you’re using my own car to do it? That’s just great, like my day couldn’t get any worse.”
“Yes, I’m kidnapping you,” Steve confirms, trying to hold back a grin. “Just go with it.”
“Did it occur to you that I might have plans and that they might not involve exposing myself to your driving?”
“You don’t have plans,” Steve says. He folds himself into the driver’s seat and adjusts it to make room for his legs.
“I could have my afternoon with Grace,” Danny counters. He walks around the car and opens the passenger door, shrugs out of his suit jacket and throws it in the back seat where it lands in a wrinkled heap.
Steve shakes his head. “Not until Friday.”
“All right, you knowing my schedule with my daughter by heart? That’s creepy. You’re probably just trying to be your psychotic SEAL version of considerate, but really? Creepy, that’s all I’m saying. That aside, I could have other plans. I could have a date, did you think of that? ”
“You don’t have a date.”
“Are you implying that I can’t get a date?”
“So you do have a date?”
Danny almost growls at that. “No, I do not have a date. The point is that I could have a date. I could...”
“Sit alone in your shithole apartment and mope?” Steve interrupts because damnit, for a clever guy, Danny can be seriously dumb.
“You know what? Now that you mention it, that sounds like a good idea, that sounds like an excellent idea. I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do, so if you would kindly just take me home...”
“Nope. Get in, I’ve got beer.”
Danny climbs in. “I’ve got beer at home,” he says, and that’s definitely a pout right there on his face.
“But this is my beer,” Steve explains. “Didn’t you say last week that you’d like to know the taste of a beer that I paid for? Well, here’s your chance.”
“If I say no, you’re just going to pull some psycho ninja move and tie me up and put me in the trunk and drive me there anyway, aren’t you? God, I hate my life.” Danny sighs and leans back in the seat. “Whatever.”
He spends the rest of the ride in silence, staring out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes. Steve keeps sneaking glances, trying to gauge his mood. Danny’s loosened his tie a little bit, exposing seldom-seen skin and he still looks pissed, but mostly tired and dejected. Steve fiddles with the radio, searching for the most godawful station he can find in the hopes that it’ll get a reaction, but when not even Celine Dion manages to get a rise out of Danny, he gives up and turns it off.
The moment they get inside the door, Danny tears his tie off and lets it drop to the floor. Steve has a quip ready, just waiting to roll off the tip of his tongue, but Danny gives him a weary look and says, “Don’t, okay? I’m not in the mood.”
He turns around and heads for the lana’i. His shoulders are slumped and he looks oddly small. One of the many things that fascinates Steve about Danny is how such a short guy can take up so much space. Right now however, it’s like he’s shrunk a couple of sizes, deflated like a three-day-old balloon.
Steve picks up the tie and drapes it carefully over the back of a chair. He strips out of his good shirt and puts on an old t-shirt instead and then goes to the kitchen to pack some beer into a cooler before he goes to join his partner.
Danny’s sitting in one of the chairs, head tilted back and eyes closed. He’s rolled up his sleeves and undone a couple of buttons so a hint of coarse, blond chest-hair is showing underneath his shirt. Once again, Steve has to resist the urge to touch. He reaches into the cooler instead, hands Danny a beer and then grabs one for himself.
Danny twists the cap off the bottle and drinks deeply, tipping his head back and swallowing in long gulps. His hairline is a little damp with sweat and there’s still that tense, unhappy line to his shoulders that Steve would like to put his fingers on and smooth away.
“We’ll get them,” he says, breaking the silence himself since it doesn’t look like Danny’s going to say anything.
It’s not like they’re going to give in. Sooner or later, Mitchell and his cronies will slip up, and Five-0 will be there waiting when they do.
“Sure we will,” Danny agrees bitterly. “And in the meantime another dozen families will get their lives destroyed. Did you see Nina Kamae’s mother, did you talk to her? Her daughter is in a coma and she might never wake up again and the man who made that happen walks free.”
Steve has no answer to that. Part of him wants to ask Danny if he wants to go find Mitchell and his merry band of drug-dealers and handle them off the record. He doesn’t. The mood his partner is in right now, it’s very possible Danny would say yes and there are a few absolute truths Steve needs to have in his life. The sun rises in the east, the Bulldogs suck, and Danny Williams is a fine and upstanding officer of the law, at least when he’s not tying suspects to the hood of his car or forcing them to gulp down roofie-laced drinks.
Since Steve came back home, he’s been feeling a little out of his depth, playing by a different set of rules than the ones he’s used to. He has the theoretical knowledge of how civilian life works but he’s out of practice, and when he gets stuck or runs out of time he goes with the tried and tested methods. He’s not going to admit it out loud any time soon, but every now and then he needs someone to remind him of what’s acceptable and what isn’t.
Danny somehow slipped into that space from day one, like he was always meant to be that person. The badge itself means something to him; it’s more than just the means to an end. Steve is not going to be the one who compromises that, not any more than he absolutely has to.
There’s not a lot Steve can say to make the situation better. He drinks his beer and thinks about how very satisfying it would be to beat Kenny Mitchell’s face to a pulp.
Then Danny twists in his seat and rubs the back of his shoulder with a grimace of pain, and Steve thinks, to hell with it. At least there’s something he can do about that.
He puts down his bottle and gets up, moving around so he’s standing behind Danny’s chair. “Hey,” he says and presses his hand flat against the spot between Danny’s shoulderblades. “Lean forward.”
“What are you doing?” Danny grumbles. “Just because I went along with the kidnapping doesn’t mean I won’t strongly object to manhandling, okay?”
But he does lean forward to rest his elbows on the table, following Steve’s lead despite his protests. Steve takes a moment to just rest his hands against Danny’s back, feel the strong, tense muscles there, the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Then he takes a deep breath, lets his fingers find the worst knots and presses gently against them, just to get a feel for it.
Danny yelps and twists away. “Ow, ow, okay, that? That hurts. That really hurts.”
Steve digs his fingers deeper into the tight spot right under Danny’s right shoulderblade. “I’m not surprised. You have a knot the size of a coconut here.”
“I’m very much aware of that, thank you. I like to call it Steve. Ow! Is everything about you lethal?”
“I’m doing you a favour here, Danno. Just try to relax. Put your head down.”
“Relax? Excuse me, relax?” Danny’s voice is muffled against his forearm. “Your company is not conductive to relaxing, okay? It’s a wonder I haven’t had a stroke by now. A little more to the left.”
Steve moves his hands a little more to the left and gets a faint groan in reward, and he can’t help but wonder what kind of noises he could draw from Danny if he really put some effort into it. A line of thinking that’s clearly not wise right now, when he has his hands all over his partner.
At least the backrub seems to be effective. Steve applies a little more pressure, moving from spot to spot, slowly working out all the knots until he feels the tension drain away, leaving Danny as relaxed as he ever gets. Steve isn’t sure how much time has passed, but Danny’s breathing is slow and even now, eyes closed and head resting heavily on his arms on the table. Stroking his hands in up and down over Danny’s back, Steve wishes that he’d taken the time to lure Danny out of his shirt, but he takes what he can get.
Danny sighs softly and Steve stills the movement of his hands, wondering if he ought to stop touching his partner. He doesn’t want to. Besides, they already crossed the line for inappropriate invasion of personal space ages ago.
The silence is heavy between them, loaded somehow. “Hey,” Steve tries again. “It’ll be all right, we’ll get him.”
Danny lifts his head and glares up at him, looking a little less miserable now but still tired and frustrated and when he speaks it’s with that particular tone of voice that clearly says, ‘Oh god, you’re an idiot, why am I even trying?’
“I know we’ll get him, Steven. Isn’t that what we do?”
“So what’s with the bad mood? Did you have a fight with Rachel?” Not likely - in that case Danny would have said something, or rather complained non-stop about it the entire day.
Danny straightens up and leans back. He doesn’t say anything at first so Steve grabs a chair and sits down, a little closer than strictly necessary, and places one hand on Danny’s knee because he doesn’t want to let go quite yet.
“No, me and Rachel, we’re fine. A lot better than we used to be.” Danny sighs again and carefully shrugs his shoulders and his scowl transforms into pleased surprise when the movement doesn’t hurt. “Whoa. You learn that in SEAL school too?”
“I learned that from a massage therapist in Seoul. So what’s wrong?”
Danny spreads his hands. “Nothing. Everything! I don’t know, okay? My mother’s birthday is next week and she’s disappointed she won’t get to see Grace. She’s probably disappointed she won’t get to see me either, I don’t know. I found sand in my ears this morning and I haven’t been close to the beach in three days. I can’t figure out if we’re actively flirting now or if all this...” he makes a wide gesture, “...is just another part of the McGarrett zone. I’m having a bad day, okay? I promise I’ll be my usual cheerful self tomorrow, is that enough for you?”
“Cheerful?” Steve asks, when the word his brain really latches onto is flirting. He hasn’t been, at least not on purpose, but it would be a lie to say that he hasn’t entertained the thought. It’s not like either of them can deny that there’s a little more than just partners here. At least it’s not like any partnership Steve has ever had before. This is more the kind of thing where, if it was anyone else but Danny, he’d probably have dropped a few heavy hints and an invite to dinner ages ago.
“That’s what I said, ‘cheerful’, that’s the exact word I used.” Danny is looking right at him now. Steve’s hand is still on his knee and Danny hasn’t said anything about it. There’s a challenge in his voice, like he’s either trying to get Steve to take the first step or trying to talk himself into it.
A part of Steve wants them to just go back to annoying the shit out of each other so he can buy a little more time to get this thing between them figured out. He’s not sure what he even wants. Danny naked would be a good start, but after that? Steve has no idea.
Then again, Danny’s always accused him of leaping before he looks. Why not now?
His hand goes from Danny’s knee to curl around his neck, and then Steve leans in, presses his lips against Danny’s, testing the waters. When there’s no resistance, he tries for a deeper kiss, licks along the seam of Danny’s lips. A moments hesitation and then Danny opens his mouth to let him in, moving closer, fingers coming up to rest against Steve’s collarbone.
It isn’t excellent but is has the potential to be. A little more time and practice, a little more confidence, and it could be great.
When the kiss ends, Danny’s eyes are still half-closed and his tongue darts out to lick along his lips. Steve wants more, wants to find out what Danny’s neck tastes like, his stomach, the insides of his wrists. He wants to know what kind of noises he can tease out of Danny, what his bare skin looks like under all those clothes.
“Feeling better?” he asks. It must have been the wrong thing to say because Danny’s eyes fly open and that glare could probably burn clear through a brick wall.
“Did you... sorry, did you just kiss me to cheer me up? I swear, McGarrett, of all the... what’s wrong with you?”
Of course Danny has to make it difficult. “I didn’t kiss you to cheer you up, I kissed you because I wanted to,” Steve says. Yeah, that feels right, like it’s all falling into place.
“Is that so?” There’s a thoughfulness to Danny’s scowl and Steve’s becoming more and more sure that he’s on the right track here. “And now?”
“Now I want to kiss you again. And I think you should lose that shirt.”
“You think I should... God, do those lines actually work for you?”
“I don’t know, is it working?”
“You’re ridiculous. Did you just wiggle your eyebrows at me? How you ever manage to get laid at all is a complete mystery to me. I mean, I get the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ appeal, but how is it that people don’t flee the moment you open your mouth?”
“Do you ever stop talking?” Steve asks, almost a little surprised himself at how fond it comes out.
The corner of Danny’s mouth twitches into half a smile and the laugh lines around his eyes deepens. “Were you planning on kissing me again or are you going to practice bad pick-up lines on me until I lose the mood?”
He doesn’t have to ask twice, and Steve was right, it is better this time. It would be easy to get lost in the feel of Danny’s stubble under his palm, that agile tongue against his. Maneuvering around the chairs is posing a bit of a problem though, and Steve would like to take this someplace else, preferably horizontal.
When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard and Steve can see to his satisfaction that he’s managed to mess up Danny’s hair a little, blond strands falling over his forehead. They’re still overdressed, and that needs to be remedied immediately.
Steve reaches for Danny’s shirt buttons, starts undoing them, and Danny tenses, just for a moment. “So we’re doing this.” It’s more a statement than a question, which is good, because Steve doesn’t think he’d be able to stop if he tried.
“Yes. Bed, now.”
“Fine, yes, for once I completely agree with you, no need to go all caveman on me. Take it easy, this is my good shirt, okay? Clothes cost money, McGarrett, unless you want to put your boyscout skills to use sewing my buttons back on.”
Steve finally manages to get Danny’s shirt open, finally gets to run his fingers through the sandy curls on his chest, find a nipple and tweak it a little and smile at Danny’s sharp gasp of breath. He’s practically in Danny’s lap now, with Danny’s hands roaming over his sides, skimming over his hips. Danny has his legs spread wide enough for Steve to get a knee in between them, and that earns him another gasp.
Then the chair, not made for two people, creaks loudly and Danny pushes him off. “As fun as this is, I’m too old to have sex on furniture not designed for the purpose,” he says. Far too verbal for what they’ve been doing. Steve decides to make it his mission to ensure that Danny won’t be able to string two sentences together before they’re done.
Somehow they get to their feet and begin a slow meandering trek through the house, shedding clothes as they go. Danny’s shirt gets left on the living room floor and Steve’s tee ends up at the bottom of the staircase, Danny’s shoes on the second floor landing, and Steve only remembers that he’s still wearing his own boots when he tries to get out of his cargoes and they end up caught around his ankles.
Danny falls back onto the bed and laughs until tears are streaming down his face. “Is this where ‘Smooth Dog’ comes from?” he asks, wheezing for breath. His chest is bare and his slacks halfway down his hips, revealing tented boxer briefs and Steve needs to get out of this tangle now. Of all the times for shoelaces to get stuck...
“A little help here, Danno?”
“For my own sanity, will you please refrain from using my daughter’s nickname for me when we’re having sex? Come here, babe.”
A few minutes later, Steve is free and stretched out on top of Danny, kissing his way down his throat and chest, stopping to swirl his tongue around Danny’s belly button before following the trail of hair towards the edge of his underwear. There’s a wet spot on the cotton fabric, the musky scent filling Steve’s nostrils. Danny comes up on his elbows, looking down at Steve as he hooks his thumbs under the elastic waistband and pulls it down until Danny springs free.
“Off, off, off,” Danny says, rolling his hips so Steve can pull both underwear and slacks off him in one swift motion. Steve has to take a moment then, just to catch his breath and watch. Danny stretched out on his bed, naked and hard, is something he’s barely dared picture in his fantasies, and yet here he is in real life, every bit as delicious as imagined.
Danny sits up and reaches for Steve, both hands on his hips, with just the smallest hint of hesitation. “So, I’m not saying that I don’t know what I’m doing, I mean, it’s sex, right? How hard can it be? All I’m saying is that, despite all proof of the contrary, you’re clearly the more experienced one here, so...”
“How about this?” Steve interrupts and straddles him, lining them up to slide together, skin against skin. He tries an experimental thrust and Danny’s hips come up to to meet his.
“This works,” Danny agrees, a strained quality in his voice. He pulls Steve close for another kiss, deep and wet and dirty, and they find some kind of rhythm. It’s too slow and the angle is a little wrong, a little awkward, so Steve pushes them both back until they’re lying down, legs tangled together. It’s better this way, gives Steve the leverage he needs to get them moving right. Danny’s hands flail around a little, like he’s not sure what to do with them, but then one comes to rest on the back of Steve’s head, and the other on his ass, pulling him in.
Steve tries to go slow, wanting it to last. Then Danny’s kisses gain more intensity, with a hint of teeth that’ll leave bruises all over Steve’s neck and slow isn’t really an option anymore. He grinds down hard, finds the perfect position and hears Danny gasp in return, meeting his thrusts with a kind of urgency that takes Steve’s breath away.
He pushes up on his elbows, wanting to watch, wanting to see exactly what he’s doing to Danny. It seems like Danny’s got the same idea, following him with an arm wrapped around his neck.
Then Steve's arm slips and one of his elbows ends up in Danny’s stomach. Danny curls up with an ‘ooof’ and Steve loses his balance completely and rolls over on his side.
“Ow,” Danny groans. “All right, we’re terrible at this. Come here, let’s do it this way.” He flips Steve over to lie on his back and hitches one leg over Steve’s thighs, sliding up so he can get his hand around the both of them.
“You have good ideas,” Steve says breathlessly. He wraps his hand around Danny’s, helps him find the right speed. There’s just enough friction for it to be really good.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you all along?” Danny pushes up into their joined fists and Steve can’t help but follow. He has a much better view this way, with Danny towering over him for a change, moving in a determined rolling motion. “This way,” Danny pants, “we might be able to get off before someone loses an eye.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve says, trying to defend himself while at the same time trying to keep his thoughts in some resemblance of order. Not the easiest thing with Danny looking like that, eyes bright and mouth slack with pleasure, a trail of sweat running down his neck.
“Tell that to... ah, tell that to my spleen, you maniac.”
“How are you still bitching?”
Steve speeds up then, because he can’t take much more of this and Danny follows, thrusting up against him, slick and hot until Steve is convinced that even looking at him is going to break his brain so he throws his head back and closes his eyes, heading for the finish.
Danny says, “Look at me, babe, let me see you,” and Steve forces his eyes open, meets Danny’s gaze, and for a moment he’s completely caught in the emotion he finds there, the burning want. Then Danny twists his hand and Steve pushes up and comes, spilling over both their fingers. His breath catches in his throat while he rides the wave to the end, slowly sinking back against the pillows.
“How did you get to be so goddamn beautiful,” Danny breathes, still hard and pushing desperately against him. Steve wants to protest that he’s not, that Danny can’t even imagine the things he’s done, shouldn’t be able to imagine them, but that all seems unimportant now. He wraps his come-slicked fingers tighter around Danny, gives him a few hard, fast jerks, the push he needs to fall over the edge. Danny gasps and stills for a moment before he comes. Steve coaxes him though it, strokes him until the last twitch is over and Danny sinks down over his chest, burying his face in Steve’s neck, breath hot against his skin.
“That wasn’t all bad, huh?” Steve says eventually. Not perfect, but they should be able to get it right if they get a couple more tries.
“Mhmm,” Danny murmurs. Pre-verbal, check.
Steve gets them arranged into a slightly more comfortable position, with Danny draped over his chest. He missed having someone close to him in bed. Cath isn’t much of a cuddler, she kicks in her sleep, and there’s never been anything more serious between them than a good time. This is more than that. Steve can’t wait to find out what kind of sleeper Danny is. There are a lot of things he can’t wait to find out about Danny. What he looks like in the mornings before he’s smoothed down his hair and put his tie on. If he’s willing to join Steve for an early run along the beach, or if he’ll prefer to stay in bed and doze between sunwarmed sheets.
“So what now?” Danny murmurs, clearly having found his words again. “I’m not a casual kind of guy, you realise that, right? Did you have a long-term plan when you decided that comfort sex was the proper course of action or was it just a spur of the moment thing?”
Steve scoots a little closer, wraps an arm around Danny’s waist. He’s got a strange feeling in his chest, like it’s suddenly far to small for the blossoming warmth in there. “How do you feel about a June wedding? I want Chin to be my best man.”
It’s hilarious to watch Danny sputter, speechless for a moment. The smack to the shoulder kind of hurts though. “I officially hate you, I hope you know that.”
“No, you don’t,” Steve says with a laugh. He presses his lips against Danny’s neck, waits for the answer.
Danny’s chest heaves in a content little sigh, and his voice is tinged with a smile. “No, I don’t.”
It’s all they need for now. They can figure out the rest along the way.
- fin -
Author: Zinnith
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: ~4800
Summary: Danny has a bad day and Steve is the opposite of smooth.
"Did you... sorry, did you just kiss me to cheer me up?"
Notes: Thank you, anyanka_eg for the quick beta!
Fall Madly in Bed
It would be nice to be able to say that they always win. It would be nice to be able to say that they have a 100% success rate, that they close all their cases, that the bad guys always end up behind bars.
That’s probably what it would be like to live in a TV-show, Steve reflects. In real life, there are fuck-ups and mistakes and bad luck and sometimes the bad guys just have expensive lawyers and get to walk away scot-free to continue peddling drugs to high-school kids.
“This sucks,” Kono mutters. The team is standing on the courthouse steps, watching Kenny Mitchell get into a far too nice car and drive away. Kono’s not used to defeat yet and she’s letting it get to her, glaring darkly at the departing Mercedes.
“It does,” Chin agrees, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to offer what little comfort he has to give.
Danny doesn’t say anything. His eyes are hollow from too little sleep and his shoulders are tense from hours and hours of wretched paperwork and he looks hot and uncomfortable in the suit he insists on wearing on court days. Steve does his best to resist the ever-present urge to reach out and muss up Danny’s well-gelled hair, loosen his tie, wrinkle his shirt. This is not the right time nor the right place and it probably wouldn't be welcome.
It didn’t take Steve long to learn that when Danny is bitching and his hands stay in constant motion, all is well. When Danny goes quiet, that’s when it’s time to start worrying.
“What now, boss?” Chin asks, looking at Steve like he’s supposed to have answers. A few different options comes to mind, but the only one that wouldn’t violate too many laws for the governor to be comfortable with is to go back to HQ and start all over again until they can find something to nail Mitchell with.
But not right now. It’s been a tough few weeks and they’re all exhausted. Even Steve is beginning to feel the strain. “Let’s take what's left of the day off,” he says. “Relax, get some rest.”
“Start over tomorrow with fresh eyes.” Chin nods in agreement and turns to Kono. “North Shore?”
Steve wouldn’t mind a few hours of waves himself, to clear his head and find his balance again,
but the suggestion probably wouldn’t go over well with Danny so other measures need to be taken. He trails after Danny to the Camaro, waits for him to unlock the door and then gently shoulder-checks him out of the way. Danny throws his hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture and that’s at least something. Now, if he would just start talking again.
“We’re going to my place,” Steve says and opens the door on the driver’s side.
“So you’re kidnapping me now? And you’re using my own car to do it? That’s just great, like my day couldn’t get any worse.”
“Yes, I’m kidnapping you,” Steve confirms, trying to hold back a grin. “Just go with it.”
“Did it occur to you that I might have plans and that they might not involve exposing myself to your driving?”
“You don’t have plans,” Steve says. He folds himself into the driver’s seat and adjusts it to make room for his legs.
“I could have my afternoon with Grace,” Danny counters. He walks around the car and opens the passenger door, shrugs out of his suit jacket and throws it in the back seat where it lands in a wrinkled heap.
Steve shakes his head. “Not until Friday.”
“All right, you knowing my schedule with my daughter by heart? That’s creepy. You’re probably just trying to be your psychotic SEAL version of considerate, but really? Creepy, that’s all I’m saying. That aside, I could have other plans. I could have a date, did you think of that? ”
“You don’t have a date.”
“Are you implying that I can’t get a date?”
“So you do have a date?”
Danny almost growls at that. “No, I do not have a date. The point is that I could have a date. I could...”
“Sit alone in your shithole apartment and mope?” Steve interrupts because damnit, for a clever guy, Danny can be seriously dumb.
“You know what? Now that you mention it, that sounds like a good idea, that sounds like an excellent idea. I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do, so if you would kindly just take me home...”
“Nope. Get in, I’ve got beer.”
Danny climbs in. “I’ve got beer at home,” he says, and that’s definitely a pout right there on his face.
“But this is my beer,” Steve explains. “Didn’t you say last week that you’d like to know the taste of a beer that I paid for? Well, here’s your chance.”
“If I say no, you’re just going to pull some psycho ninja move and tie me up and put me in the trunk and drive me there anyway, aren’t you? God, I hate my life.” Danny sighs and leans back in the seat. “Whatever.”
He spends the rest of the ride in silence, staring out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes. Steve keeps sneaking glances, trying to gauge his mood. Danny’s loosened his tie a little bit, exposing seldom-seen skin and he still looks pissed, but mostly tired and dejected. Steve fiddles with the radio, searching for the most godawful station he can find in the hopes that it’ll get a reaction, but when not even Celine Dion manages to get a rise out of Danny, he gives up and turns it off.
The moment they get inside the door, Danny tears his tie off and lets it drop to the floor. Steve has a quip ready, just waiting to roll off the tip of his tongue, but Danny gives him a weary look and says, “Don’t, okay? I’m not in the mood.”
He turns around and heads for the lana’i. His shoulders are slumped and he looks oddly small. One of the many things that fascinates Steve about Danny is how such a short guy can take up so much space. Right now however, it’s like he’s shrunk a couple of sizes, deflated like a three-day-old balloon.
Steve picks up the tie and drapes it carefully over the back of a chair. He strips out of his good shirt and puts on an old t-shirt instead and then goes to the kitchen to pack some beer into a cooler before he goes to join his partner.
Danny’s sitting in one of the chairs, head tilted back and eyes closed. He’s rolled up his sleeves and undone a couple of buttons so a hint of coarse, blond chest-hair is showing underneath his shirt. Once again, Steve has to resist the urge to touch. He reaches into the cooler instead, hands Danny a beer and then grabs one for himself.
Danny twists the cap off the bottle and drinks deeply, tipping his head back and swallowing in long gulps. His hairline is a little damp with sweat and there’s still that tense, unhappy line to his shoulders that Steve would like to put his fingers on and smooth away.
“We’ll get them,” he says, breaking the silence himself since it doesn’t look like Danny’s going to say anything.
It’s not like they’re going to give in. Sooner or later, Mitchell and his cronies will slip up, and Five-0 will be there waiting when they do.
“Sure we will,” Danny agrees bitterly. “And in the meantime another dozen families will get their lives destroyed. Did you see Nina Kamae’s mother, did you talk to her? Her daughter is in a coma and she might never wake up again and the man who made that happen walks free.”
Steve has no answer to that. Part of him wants to ask Danny if he wants to go find Mitchell and his merry band of drug-dealers and handle them off the record. He doesn’t. The mood his partner is in right now, it’s very possible Danny would say yes and there are a few absolute truths Steve needs to have in his life. The sun rises in the east, the Bulldogs suck, and Danny Williams is a fine and upstanding officer of the law, at least when he’s not tying suspects to the hood of his car or forcing them to gulp down roofie-laced drinks.
Since Steve came back home, he’s been feeling a little out of his depth, playing by a different set of rules than the ones he’s used to. He has the theoretical knowledge of how civilian life works but he’s out of practice, and when he gets stuck or runs out of time he goes with the tried and tested methods. He’s not going to admit it out loud any time soon, but every now and then he needs someone to remind him of what’s acceptable and what isn’t.
Danny somehow slipped into that space from day one, like he was always meant to be that person. The badge itself means something to him; it’s more than just the means to an end. Steve is not going to be the one who compromises that, not any more than he absolutely has to.
There’s not a lot Steve can say to make the situation better. He drinks his beer and thinks about how very satisfying it would be to beat Kenny Mitchell’s face to a pulp.
Then Danny twists in his seat and rubs the back of his shoulder with a grimace of pain, and Steve thinks, to hell with it. At least there’s something he can do about that.
He puts down his bottle and gets up, moving around so he’s standing behind Danny’s chair. “Hey,” he says and presses his hand flat against the spot between Danny’s shoulderblades. “Lean forward.”
“What are you doing?” Danny grumbles. “Just because I went along with the kidnapping doesn’t mean I won’t strongly object to manhandling, okay?”
But he does lean forward to rest his elbows on the table, following Steve’s lead despite his protests. Steve takes a moment to just rest his hands against Danny’s back, feel the strong, tense muscles there, the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Then he takes a deep breath, lets his fingers find the worst knots and presses gently against them, just to get a feel for it.
Danny yelps and twists away. “Ow, ow, okay, that? That hurts. That really hurts.”
Steve digs his fingers deeper into the tight spot right under Danny’s right shoulderblade. “I’m not surprised. You have a knot the size of a coconut here.”
“I’m very much aware of that, thank you. I like to call it Steve. Ow! Is everything about you lethal?”
“I’m doing you a favour here, Danno. Just try to relax. Put your head down.”
“Relax? Excuse me, relax?” Danny’s voice is muffled against his forearm. “Your company is not conductive to relaxing, okay? It’s a wonder I haven’t had a stroke by now. A little more to the left.”
Steve moves his hands a little more to the left and gets a faint groan in reward, and he can’t help but wonder what kind of noises he could draw from Danny if he really put some effort into it. A line of thinking that’s clearly not wise right now, when he has his hands all over his partner.
At least the backrub seems to be effective. Steve applies a little more pressure, moving from spot to spot, slowly working out all the knots until he feels the tension drain away, leaving Danny as relaxed as he ever gets. Steve isn’t sure how much time has passed, but Danny’s breathing is slow and even now, eyes closed and head resting heavily on his arms on the table. Stroking his hands in up and down over Danny’s back, Steve wishes that he’d taken the time to lure Danny out of his shirt, but he takes what he can get.
Danny sighs softly and Steve stills the movement of his hands, wondering if he ought to stop touching his partner. He doesn’t want to. Besides, they already crossed the line for inappropriate invasion of personal space ages ago.
The silence is heavy between them, loaded somehow. “Hey,” Steve tries again. “It’ll be all right, we’ll get him.”
Danny lifts his head and glares up at him, looking a little less miserable now but still tired and frustrated and when he speaks it’s with that particular tone of voice that clearly says, ‘Oh god, you’re an idiot, why am I even trying?’
“I know we’ll get him, Steven. Isn’t that what we do?”
“So what’s with the bad mood? Did you have a fight with Rachel?” Not likely - in that case Danny would have said something, or rather complained non-stop about it the entire day.
Danny straightens up and leans back. He doesn’t say anything at first so Steve grabs a chair and sits down, a little closer than strictly necessary, and places one hand on Danny’s knee because he doesn’t want to let go quite yet.
“No, me and Rachel, we’re fine. A lot better than we used to be.” Danny sighs again and carefully shrugs his shoulders and his scowl transforms into pleased surprise when the movement doesn’t hurt. “Whoa. You learn that in SEAL school too?”
“I learned that from a massage therapist in Seoul. So what’s wrong?”
Danny spreads his hands. “Nothing. Everything! I don’t know, okay? My mother’s birthday is next week and she’s disappointed she won’t get to see Grace. She’s probably disappointed she won’t get to see me either, I don’t know. I found sand in my ears this morning and I haven’t been close to the beach in three days. I can’t figure out if we’re actively flirting now or if all this...” he makes a wide gesture, “...is just another part of the McGarrett zone. I’m having a bad day, okay? I promise I’ll be my usual cheerful self tomorrow, is that enough for you?”
“Cheerful?” Steve asks, when the word his brain really latches onto is flirting. He hasn’t been, at least not on purpose, but it would be a lie to say that he hasn’t entertained the thought. It’s not like either of them can deny that there’s a little more than just partners here. At least it’s not like any partnership Steve has ever had before. This is more the kind of thing where, if it was anyone else but Danny, he’d probably have dropped a few heavy hints and an invite to dinner ages ago.
“That’s what I said, ‘cheerful’, that’s the exact word I used.” Danny is looking right at him now. Steve’s hand is still on his knee and Danny hasn’t said anything about it. There’s a challenge in his voice, like he’s either trying to get Steve to take the first step or trying to talk himself into it.
A part of Steve wants them to just go back to annoying the shit out of each other so he can buy a little more time to get this thing between them figured out. He’s not sure what he even wants. Danny naked would be a good start, but after that? Steve has no idea.
Then again, Danny’s always accused him of leaping before he looks. Why not now?
His hand goes from Danny’s knee to curl around his neck, and then Steve leans in, presses his lips against Danny’s, testing the waters. When there’s no resistance, he tries for a deeper kiss, licks along the seam of Danny’s lips. A moments hesitation and then Danny opens his mouth to let him in, moving closer, fingers coming up to rest against Steve’s collarbone.
It isn’t excellent but is has the potential to be. A little more time and practice, a little more confidence, and it could be great.
When the kiss ends, Danny’s eyes are still half-closed and his tongue darts out to lick along his lips. Steve wants more, wants to find out what Danny’s neck tastes like, his stomach, the insides of his wrists. He wants to know what kind of noises he can tease out of Danny, what his bare skin looks like under all those clothes.
“Feeling better?” he asks. It must have been the wrong thing to say because Danny’s eyes fly open and that glare could probably burn clear through a brick wall.
“Did you... sorry, did you just kiss me to cheer me up? I swear, McGarrett, of all the... what’s wrong with you?”
Of course Danny has to make it difficult. “I didn’t kiss you to cheer you up, I kissed you because I wanted to,” Steve says. Yeah, that feels right, like it’s all falling into place.
“Is that so?” There’s a thoughfulness to Danny’s scowl and Steve’s becoming more and more sure that he’s on the right track here. “And now?”
“Now I want to kiss you again. And I think you should lose that shirt.”
“You think I should... God, do those lines actually work for you?”
“I don’t know, is it working?”
“You’re ridiculous. Did you just wiggle your eyebrows at me? How you ever manage to get laid at all is a complete mystery to me. I mean, I get the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ appeal, but how is it that people don’t flee the moment you open your mouth?”
“Do you ever stop talking?” Steve asks, almost a little surprised himself at how fond it comes out.
The corner of Danny’s mouth twitches into half a smile and the laugh lines around his eyes deepens. “Were you planning on kissing me again or are you going to practice bad pick-up lines on me until I lose the mood?”
He doesn’t have to ask twice, and Steve was right, it is better this time. It would be easy to get lost in the feel of Danny’s stubble under his palm, that agile tongue against his. Maneuvering around the chairs is posing a bit of a problem though, and Steve would like to take this someplace else, preferably horizontal.
When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard and Steve can see to his satisfaction that he’s managed to mess up Danny’s hair a little, blond strands falling over his forehead. They’re still overdressed, and that needs to be remedied immediately.
Steve reaches for Danny’s shirt buttons, starts undoing them, and Danny tenses, just for a moment. “So we’re doing this.” It’s more a statement than a question, which is good, because Steve doesn’t think he’d be able to stop if he tried.
“Yes. Bed, now.”
“Fine, yes, for once I completely agree with you, no need to go all caveman on me. Take it easy, this is my good shirt, okay? Clothes cost money, McGarrett, unless you want to put your boyscout skills to use sewing my buttons back on.”
Steve finally manages to get Danny’s shirt open, finally gets to run his fingers through the sandy curls on his chest, find a nipple and tweak it a little and smile at Danny’s sharp gasp of breath. He’s practically in Danny’s lap now, with Danny’s hands roaming over his sides, skimming over his hips. Danny has his legs spread wide enough for Steve to get a knee in between them, and that earns him another gasp.
Then the chair, not made for two people, creaks loudly and Danny pushes him off. “As fun as this is, I’m too old to have sex on furniture not designed for the purpose,” he says. Far too verbal for what they’ve been doing. Steve decides to make it his mission to ensure that Danny won’t be able to string two sentences together before they’re done.
Somehow they get to their feet and begin a slow meandering trek through the house, shedding clothes as they go. Danny’s shirt gets left on the living room floor and Steve’s tee ends up at the bottom of the staircase, Danny’s shoes on the second floor landing, and Steve only remembers that he’s still wearing his own boots when he tries to get out of his cargoes and they end up caught around his ankles.
Danny falls back onto the bed and laughs until tears are streaming down his face. “Is this where ‘Smooth Dog’ comes from?” he asks, wheezing for breath. His chest is bare and his slacks halfway down his hips, revealing tented boxer briefs and Steve needs to get out of this tangle now. Of all the times for shoelaces to get stuck...
“A little help here, Danno?”
“For my own sanity, will you please refrain from using my daughter’s nickname for me when we’re having sex? Come here, babe.”
A few minutes later, Steve is free and stretched out on top of Danny, kissing his way down his throat and chest, stopping to swirl his tongue around Danny’s belly button before following the trail of hair towards the edge of his underwear. There’s a wet spot on the cotton fabric, the musky scent filling Steve’s nostrils. Danny comes up on his elbows, looking down at Steve as he hooks his thumbs under the elastic waistband and pulls it down until Danny springs free.
“Off, off, off,” Danny says, rolling his hips so Steve can pull both underwear and slacks off him in one swift motion. Steve has to take a moment then, just to catch his breath and watch. Danny stretched out on his bed, naked and hard, is something he’s barely dared picture in his fantasies, and yet here he is in real life, every bit as delicious as imagined.
Danny sits up and reaches for Steve, both hands on his hips, with just the smallest hint of hesitation. “So, I’m not saying that I don’t know what I’m doing, I mean, it’s sex, right? How hard can it be? All I’m saying is that, despite all proof of the contrary, you’re clearly the more experienced one here, so...”
“How about this?” Steve interrupts and straddles him, lining them up to slide together, skin against skin. He tries an experimental thrust and Danny’s hips come up to to meet his.
“This works,” Danny agrees, a strained quality in his voice. He pulls Steve close for another kiss, deep and wet and dirty, and they find some kind of rhythm. It’s too slow and the angle is a little wrong, a little awkward, so Steve pushes them both back until they’re lying down, legs tangled together. It’s better this way, gives Steve the leverage he needs to get them moving right. Danny’s hands flail around a little, like he’s not sure what to do with them, but then one comes to rest on the back of Steve’s head, and the other on his ass, pulling him in.
Steve tries to go slow, wanting it to last. Then Danny’s kisses gain more intensity, with a hint of teeth that’ll leave bruises all over Steve’s neck and slow isn’t really an option anymore. He grinds down hard, finds the perfect position and hears Danny gasp in return, meeting his thrusts with a kind of urgency that takes Steve’s breath away.
He pushes up on his elbows, wanting to watch, wanting to see exactly what he’s doing to Danny. It seems like Danny’s got the same idea, following him with an arm wrapped around his neck.
Then Steve's arm slips and one of his elbows ends up in Danny’s stomach. Danny curls up with an ‘ooof’ and Steve loses his balance completely and rolls over on his side.
“Ow,” Danny groans. “All right, we’re terrible at this. Come here, let’s do it this way.” He flips Steve over to lie on his back and hitches one leg over Steve’s thighs, sliding up so he can get his hand around the both of them.
“You have good ideas,” Steve says breathlessly. He wraps his hand around Danny’s, helps him find the right speed. There’s just enough friction for it to be really good.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you all along?” Danny pushes up into their joined fists and Steve can’t help but follow. He has a much better view this way, with Danny towering over him for a change, moving in a determined rolling motion. “This way,” Danny pants, “we might be able to get off before someone loses an eye.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve says, trying to defend himself while at the same time trying to keep his thoughts in some resemblance of order. Not the easiest thing with Danny looking like that, eyes bright and mouth slack with pleasure, a trail of sweat running down his neck.
“Tell that to... ah, tell that to my spleen, you maniac.”
“How are you still bitching?”
Steve speeds up then, because he can’t take much more of this and Danny follows, thrusting up against him, slick and hot until Steve is convinced that even looking at him is going to break his brain so he throws his head back and closes his eyes, heading for the finish.
Danny says, “Look at me, babe, let me see you,” and Steve forces his eyes open, meets Danny’s gaze, and for a moment he’s completely caught in the emotion he finds there, the burning want. Then Danny twists his hand and Steve pushes up and comes, spilling over both their fingers. His breath catches in his throat while he rides the wave to the end, slowly sinking back against the pillows.
“How did you get to be so goddamn beautiful,” Danny breathes, still hard and pushing desperately against him. Steve wants to protest that he’s not, that Danny can’t even imagine the things he’s done, shouldn’t be able to imagine them, but that all seems unimportant now. He wraps his come-slicked fingers tighter around Danny, gives him a few hard, fast jerks, the push he needs to fall over the edge. Danny gasps and stills for a moment before he comes. Steve coaxes him though it, strokes him until the last twitch is over and Danny sinks down over his chest, burying his face in Steve’s neck, breath hot against his skin.
“That wasn’t all bad, huh?” Steve says eventually. Not perfect, but they should be able to get it right if they get a couple more tries.
“Mhmm,” Danny murmurs. Pre-verbal, check.
Steve gets them arranged into a slightly more comfortable position, with Danny draped over his chest. He missed having someone close to him in bed. Cath isn’t much of a cuddler, she kicks in her sleep, and there’s never been anything more serious between them than a good time. This is more than that. Steve can’t wait to find out what kind of sleeper Danny is. There are a lot of things he can’t wait to find out about Danny. What he looks like in the mornings before he’s smoothed down his hair and put his tie on. If he’s willing to join Steve for an early run along the beach, or if he’ll prefer to stay in bed and doze between sunwarmed sheets.
“So what now?” Danny murmurs, clearly having found his words again. “I’m not a casual kind of guy, you realise that, right? Did you have a long-term plan when you decided that comfort sex was the proper course of action or was it just a spur of the moment thing?”
Steve scoots a little closer, wraps an arm around Danny’s waist. He’s got a strange feeling in his chest, like it’s suddenly far to small for the blossoming warmth in there. “How do you feel about a June wedding? I want Chin to be my best man.”
It’s hilarious to watch Danny sputter, speechless for a moment. The smack to the shoulder kind of hurts though. “I officially hate you, I hope you know that.”
“No, you don’t,” Steve says with a laugh. He presses his lips against Danny’s neck, waits for the answer.
Danny’s chest heaves in a content little sigh, and his voice is tinged with a smile. “No, I don’t.”
It’s all they need for now. They can figure out the rest along the way.
- fin -