haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

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He's been working ever since he got the knee injury on stretching out muscles and ligaments around the thing to ensure it doesn't happen again. True, he lied his ass off to Helen about the how of it, but he doesn't like the idea of going back just to say 'and hey, happened again, more drugs?' Helen's been taking damn good care to make sure he's healing and Danny's not about to ignore stretches just because they get monotonous over time.

He's in a pair of orange board shorts alone and is in the shade just behind the hut. He figures once he's done, he'll take a quick dip to rinse the sweat off. Plus it'll make the damn puppy happy if they go in the water. He doesn't know exactly when it happened, but somehow, McGarrett converted the dog into a swimming idiot, too.

He's settling down precariously onto his shins, hands wedged behind his back as he inches further and further back, getting out a good stretch of his IT band in the thigh in order to try and loosen up some of the muscles and ligaments around the knee.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Danny breathes out when the stretch starts to radiate pain. "Too much."

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Steve's out for a jog today instead of choosing the water. He figures that's a better way to not invoke Danny's ire about him exercising with a still-healing shoulder, and he's only just recently found a pair of sneakers in the clothes box that fit him perfectly. His t-shirt is off and draped over one shoulder, used as a sweat rag to wipe at his face and chest as he finally comes to a stop outside the hut, catching his breath and checking his pulse in the shade.

He hears Danny just barely over the sound of his own panting, though the curses are coming from outside, not in. Zulu greets him first, a friendly bark followed by a lick at his fingertips, and he plucks the growing puppy up into his arms, ruffling the top of his head as he heads around back.

"Should I even ask?" he teases, releasing the puppy back down and swiping the t-shirt over his face.

Danny shifts so that one hand is off the ground so he can use it to twirl his fingers around in a circle. God forbid he ever loses the ability to talk with his hands, he might just die. "Helen's stretches for my knee," he explains as he gets his shoulders resettled and his hands are buried in the cool sand again. "It's so I don't injure it again doing something stupid like having sex."

Steve hides a grin behind the shirt, burying the lower half of his face against the cotton before he pulls it down and chucks it back over his shoulder again, nodding thoughtfully. "Probably a good thing," he admits, though what he's also not going to admit is that Danny looks damn good doing the stretches, too. That part's a little more selfish. "Last time was pretty rough."

Danny peeks up from his stretches long enough to see that Steve has reverted back to shirtless mode. Of course. Danny doesn't even know why he's surprised. Give Steve thirty minutes and he won't even know why, he'll just take off his shirt. It's practically the factory setting. "Hey, hey," Danny protests. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I saw the smug looks when you had to pick me up, you neanderthal."

"I'm not saying there wasn't some tiny part of me that didn't enjoy it," Steve declares, gradually winding his arms up above his head in a cool-down stretch, a post-workout ritual. "I just know it was rough for you, and honestly, I didn't like seeing you hurt in the long run. So, any steps you can take to keep it from happening again - " He reaches out, gently winding fingers into Danny's hair. " - I'm all for it."

Danny shifts until he's sitting cross-legged, peering up at Steve. "Yeah, it did hurt," he admits as he wiggles to get his back on the ground, legs bent before him. "Hey, c'mere, come help me if you're gonna hang out. Take the bag leg and push it into my chest, as far as you can," he says, levelling out the good leg.

Steve's watching Danny carefully, but if this is something that's going to help, it's the least he can do for being part of the reason Danny re-injured his knee in the first place. He kneels down in the sand, fingertips gently grasping Danny's leg, shifting forward as he pushes Danny's knee gradually into the stretch, watching his face for signs of pain. "Like that?"

Danny shifts so that he's flat on his back. He reaches up to coax Steve's fingers top his on the knee, pushing that knee right into his chest. "Come on, what are you, a little girl? Lean some weight into this," he insists, which will pull Steve closer to him, but it'll be worth it. It hurts, fuck, yes, it does. But it's going to be so worth it when his knee is stronger for it.

"How was the run?" he asks when he starts getting breathless. "How many new admirers do you have this time?"

"I'm leaning, I'm leaning," Steve insists, stretching out to brace his hand over Danny's knee, using his weight to put a little more pressure on the stretch as he rests his chest lightly against the back of his knuckles.

"You know I don't pay attention to that kind of thing," he mutters, making a face as he gazes down at Danny.

"Yeah, well, if people don't notice that big honking tramp stamp on your ass, then they're idiots and blind," Danny says with a hiss of breath exhaled through his teeth, giving a soft moan. "Higher," he gasps, and if anyone was passing, they might misconstrue the noises he's making as sexual.

"Well, if they did notice it, I wouldn't notice since I don't have eyes on the back of my head," Steve mutters, raising an eyebrow at Danny. He shifts and re-centers, nudging Danny's knee a little higher against his chest.

"No? That's not them back there?" Danny teases as he ruffles a small patch of grey at the back of Steve's head. He lets out a slow exhalation and lets the radiation of pain fade away as he runs both palms up and down Steve's forearms. "Yeah, good," he says, letting his head fall back to the leaves. "Switch legs."

"Contrary to what you might believe," Steve says, repressing a small groan as Danny's fingertips rub against the back of his head. He sits back on his heels, releases Danny's leg, takes hold of the other knee and then slowly pushes it back against his chest, holding it there, one hand sliding down underneath his thigh.

Danny's breath hitches in his throat when Steve pushes his hand up his thigh. The board shorts don't cover that much so Steve's hand is on skin and he's so goddamn warm. He lets out a slow breath and helps to pull the knee in tight to his chest. "How's your shoulder?" he asks, to take his mind off the hand.

There might be a part of Steve that's doing it purposefully, but it's dwarfed by the rest of him doing it mostly unconsciously, using his hand to gently guide Danny's knee in against his chest, his upper half leaning over him, and he struggles not to drip sweat onto his body. "Never better," he promises, easing Danny's knee into a deeper stretch with a slow rocking motion.

"Yeah?" Danny gets out in a pleased moan when some of the tension evaporates (and also because he's not an idiot and their hips are nearly aligned). "So you'll be playing baseball then, next time around. No arguments."

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn't a fan of this position, all things considered. He gently digs fingertips into Danny's thigh and leans back, stretching his leg out, giving his ankle a slight tug. "I never said I wouldn't," he promises, smiling slowly. "I didn't know I was going to be taken out of commission right before the big game."

Danny hums out a pleased noise as he shifts to his side, bending his knee and tucking it over his torso to stretch out the IT band and the spine at once. "I never know with you. I mean, first it's all 'football's my game', I never know when you're about to pull a Steve." He scratches his fingers over his bare chest as he splays out on the ground to really stretch.

"Are you using my name as a verb now?" Steve asks, mildly incredulous and also insanely amused, bracing a hand against Danny's shoulder to keep it against the ground while he twists, stretching out his spine and his knee even deeper. He can hear a few cracks in Danny's back, too, as his spine clicks back into alignment. "There we go," he mutters, gently squeezing Danny's shoulder.

Danny lets out a soft exhalation when the alignment feels instantly better and the tension releases. "You Steve a lot of things. I'm tempted to make it official Five-0 issue. When someone does something completely out of the realm of the normal, it's a Steve."

He tips his chin back and smiles lazily at Steve from the ground. "Hey," he says. "You look hot."

Steve eventually relinquishes his hold, sitting back on his heels again, toes firmly digging in the sand, resting his hands on his thighs and giving Danny a slow smile. "Does that mean I can call all loathing of island-related activities and pineapple on pizza pulling a Danny?"

He smirks, but the expression turns into something a little more heated when his gaze runs over Danny stretched out on the ground, the shadows of leaves shifting over his skin as a breeze picks up. "You too."

"I would be fucking honored if we could attach my name to the hating of pineapples, Steve, you have no idea," he swears away, shifting back to neutral so he can stretch out the other side. He gets the leg swung over, biting on his lip as he stretches. "What are you doing the rest of the day?" he asks, when he's settled in the position.

Steve frowns in thought, squinting in a gaze directed toward the water. Zulu's sniffing around nearby, investigating some kind of beetle scurrying across the ground. "I was considering a shower, but I think I might swap that out for a quick swim. Weather's nice enough. Just a short dip to wash off, and then I was going to start in on making some dinner."

"Funny, cuz that's where I'm heading next," Danny murmurs as he sits up with a groan, shifting first to his knees and then to his feet, bending over to get his body into a triangle (or the closest estimation of downward facing dog).

Steve grins, pushing his weight up onto the heels of his feet, thighs flexing as he propels himself upward into standing, and watches Danny with a look of discreet admiration. "Need any help with that one?" he asks, smirk audible in his voice.