haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

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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"Do you want it to be in the vows?" Steve teases, hand clamping down on Danny's hip and squeezing as he casts a cursory glance toward the status of their dinner. "It'd be the truth."

Danny lets out a laugh as he starts to assemble the dinner, leaning back to peck a kiss to Steve's cheek temporarily. "I think for the sake of my dignity, we're gonna go ahead and keep that one out." He brings the fish, potatoes, and vegetables to the table, uncorking the wine to pour generous helpings into each glass.

Steve takes a seat in the chair he normally sits in for these kinds of meals, drawing his plate a little closer to himself, his stomach growling audibly at the sight of the food after a long workout. "Danny, it looks fantastic," he replies, offering the other man a smile over the table.

"It looks healthy," he says, looking at the meal like that's something that's wrong with it, but hey, he can douse the potatoes and vegetables in butter and feel better. "You know what I miss? I miss pizza, Steve, you have no idea how much."

"What, you can't make that here? I can probably figure out how to make one," Steve muses out loud, dishing some veggies out onto his plate. "Just a matter of making the dough and then finding the topping you want. I'd even make it half-meat lover's for you, babe."

"It's not the same as ordering one from the local pizza place," he bemoans as he stares at the plate and twirls his fork over the fish to start breaking it apart into pieces. Still, what Steve is offering is too damn sweet. He carefully navigates the wine out of the way before leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth, just the once.

"I know," Steve replies, and he knows nothing can ever take the place of real pizza, either, but he's damn near going to try to make it happen if only to put a smile on Danny's face. He'll take up making pizza professionally if that's what it takes.

Danny finishes a couple more bites of food and though he's not stuffed, he's full enough. Fish and vegetables isn't his favorite, but he'll do a lot for Steve and this is just a small thing. He stands, hitching up the pants again to deliver the dish to the sink, leftovers to Zulu's bowl. "Hey, boy, c'mere if you want some food."

Steve smiles fondly at the sight of Danny tugging on the pants, leans back in his chair and reaches for his glass of wine, taking a few sips to savor the contents as he watches Danny scrape the leftover food into Zulu's bowl. "He's gonna start begging for it soon," he admits, tilting his head.

"Eh, if the worst he eats are greens, I think we'll be able to survive as owners and not get him taken away by the imaginary animal police," Danny says as he makes his way back to the table to join Steve, dragging his chair closer.

"True. I'm just surprised he hasn't graduated to begging for steak scraps," Steve admits, watching as the puppy dives into his food bowl with excitement, tail wagging as he eats.

Danny practically melts with fondness at the stupid move, practically wanting to coo. But he does not. No, he holds it in, because he is a man of dignity. "Look at our little idiot," he says with an idiotically happy tone. "Such a perfect little boy, huh? Huh?"

"One of these days he's going to figure out you're insulting him no matter how sweet you try to spin it," Steve replies, shooting a glance in Danny's direction, but he's grinning fondly as he claps a hand down on Danny's knee, squeezing.

Danny leans in closer to Steve, practically bending over with a fond and stupid look on his face as he presses a kiss to Steve's lips. "Why? It's just the same tone I take with you. My sweet, sweet idiot."

"Don't think that'll get you very far," Steve playfully warns, reaching up to cup Danny's jaw in his palm, fingers splayed across his face, but his mouth is still close, hovering inches away.

"Why?" Danny taunts with a smug little look on his face. "Are you saying I don't have the kind of oomph and pull when I use mean words in your direction? Cuz I think I do."

"You think so, huh?" Steve challenges, raising an eyebrow, reaching back to give Danny's hair a retaliating tug. "Maybe you should try it and see what happens."

Danny lets his hair get tugged and gives Steve a heavy snarl in response as he leans in, biting on his lower lip. "You really wanna do that? You want me to lambast you with names? Say you got anger issues that make you really un-a-fucking-ppealing at times, to me?"

"Maybe," Steve replies, his voice soft in contrast, low and unassuming. "I bet you'd like it, too. All those things I do that drive you up a wall - and there's probably a lot of them, isn't there?"

The growl is practically lodging itself in Danny's throat and refuses to budge. Danny's out of the chair, into Steve's lap, and gripping his hair with both hands. "Your inability to fucking make up your mind about who's in your goddamn bed," he snaps. "That damn car. Your bullying."

"What car? Your car?" Steve feigns innocence, even while his tone of voice signals otherwise and the way he jerks back into Danny's hands is anything but, his eyes half-lidded and his jaw tense. "Thought you said you didn't mind it when I drove your car."

"Not my car, though I mind. I mind! I mind a fucking lot! The Marquis, the piece of shit," Danny mutters and gives one last tug, standing up to get out of Steve's lap before he starts saying things he'll regret.

"Hey, that car was a work in progress," Steve protests, watching after Danny with his hair sticking up in the back and his clothes rumpled in the front. "I thought you of all people would appreciate getting to be a part of the first test drive."

"Maybe I'd have appreciated it more if you told me they were dates," Danny mutters to himself as he runs his hands through his hair and fixes his clothes. He picks up the apron in order to fold it carefully, sliding it in a drawer when he's done.

He shakes his head, scoffing quietly. "Does it turn you on when I'm angry or something?"

Steve's pretty certain that even he didn't know they were dates at the time, but he keeps his mouth shut on that one, standing up and leaning against the table, arms loosely folded.

"I don't know." He shrugs briefly. "Kind of like it when you get authoritative. Forceful. Maybe not mean."