haolehothead | (no subject)

Steve's sitting out on the porch, beer in hand as he rests his feet up on the ledge, watching the sun set over the beach a little ways in the distance. Next to him, Zulu's sleeping on the floor, splayed out on his side and breathing deep, exhausted after a long day of swimming, his fur still a little wet from the water.

At the sound of Danny's voice calling, though, they both turn to look, Zulu with his head cocked slightly, and the puppy's bounding into the hut first, leaving Steve to trail in after.

"What's up?" he asks, taking a quick swig of beer when he finds Danny inside.

Danny smiles at Steve sweetly, like he's giving him a little kindness before the storm approaches. He crouches down to scratch Zulu's ears with his free hand, the scissors-clasping one opening them and making snipping noises as he gestures to Steve and then the couch. "C'mere, you got an appointment with some shears."

"You're really gonna cut my hair?" Steve murmurs, but he's not going to put up much of a fight on this one as he brings his beer over to the couch, sitting down and leaning back against the cushions. He knows he's due for a haircut, especially when the part in the back starts curling up slightly. "When did you learn how to cut hair?"

Danny wanders around the back of the couch, tucking a towel into the neck of Steve's t-shirt, giving the curls a light tug in sad dismay at how he's about to lose them. "Seriously? You don't think a guy who has hair like mine has ever done self-maintenance? Please," he scoffs.

Steve grits his teeth slightly at the gentle tugging, but it's mostly to disguise a subtle hiss of enjoyment than acknowledging any pain, keeping his head still while his lips pull into a grin. "So what, did you wake up this morning and decide I needed one after all?"

"I've been thinking of it for a couple days," Danny admits, splashing his fingers in the water and running his hand through Steve's hair to dampen up the strands. "I mean, I keep turning over in bed and thinking I woke up next to some sixteen-year-old emo kid."

"Okay, first things first, it's not that bad," Steve starts, tipping his chin down, his eyes drifting closed for as long as it takes for Danny to run his fingers through his hair, the touch relaxing. "And second - well, give me a second, I just lost my train of thought."

Danny's smirk is practically smug as he puts the scissors down and picks up the comb to get the strands out and debate how short he wants to make this. "Babe, seriously, it's getting a little ridiculous. You're a shame to your Navy brothers." He picks up the scissors again. "No sharp moves," he warns before he starts to make his first cuts.

"Good thing I'm in Five-O now," Steve murmurs absently, keeping his head still at the angle Danny positions it in. Zulu sits by his feet on the floor, nosing at Steve's hand until he gives him the scratching behind his ears he's been looking for. "Don't worry. You've got me completely at your mercy with those."

"Technically, you're not even that," Danny reminds him, a sad smile lingering on his lips. After so many months working with Steve, he actually does kind of miss it. "It's strange, isn't it? I mean, us not being partners, not working together. It's weird to go to work in the morning and not see you at your desk," he chats idly as he starts making cuts until Steve's hair isn't longer than an inch.

"Hey, we'll still be Five-O, from now until the day we find ourselves back at home," Steve promises, reaching back behind his neck to slide fingers around Danny's wrist when he pauses cutting, squeezing firmly. "That's not going to change, ever, not even if there aren't any cases here."

Danny stops cutting long enough to give Steve's hand a bit of pressure in return. "I'm serious," he says, quietly, "It's weird. I've got different IPD partners, but there's no crime and I don't get to yell at you for driving recklessly or not knowing how to read Miranda rights or fill out paperwork." He makes a face before going back to the cutting, letting it fall to the bowl.

"You miss the yelling," Steve deduces, hiding a smile with his head still lowered, dropping his hand back down to join the other in gripping his beer loosely between his fingertips, tapping them against the side of the glass. "Too bad the Camaro hasn't shown up. I could give you a reason to put on your seatbelt again."

"Yeah, well, no roads at all," Danny points out, shifting to start working closer to Steve's forehead, brushing his thumb for a moment over the grey at Steve's temple, scissors working quickly. "So, no use for a car here. The closest we get are bikes," he says with scorn.

Steve straightens his head again as Danny starts working closer to the hair at his temples, talking without moving. "Part of me is almost grateful there's no crime here. People do some terrible things to one another, and we probably only saw about the half of it back home."

"Eighty-seven homicide cases," Danny reminds Steve. "I know you weren't always in the law enforcement business, but I have been for sixteen years and I've seen a goddamn lot," he murmurs, pushing his free hand through Steve's hair at the nape of his neck -- already cut. "I guess I just want something we work on together. Hell, maybe I should've let you join IPD."

Steve lets out a sigh, tension flowing out of his neck, his head moving easily forward when Danny's fingers nudge through his hair. "You've got the track record to hold over me," he admits. "Are you sure IPD would let me join IPD?"

Danny shrugs at that, not really sure one way or the other. "Honestly, I have no clue. I mean, let's be honest, in the event of a disaster, I'd want you to rescue me, but what we do isn't really about that." He migrates the scissors to the other side of Steve's head.

"Well, it's something to look into, maybe," Steve replies with a tiny shrug, only moving when Danny isn't cutting. He takes a quick sip of beer before Danny resumes with the scissors, just to wet his lips. "And I'd do that even without IPD jurisdiction," he adds, in reference to the other part.

"What, rescue me?" Danny echoes his earlier words, a bemused look on his face as he takes his time to really spruce up Steve's hair, grabbing the last locks of it and cutting away, shaking both hands thoroughly through Steve's hair and pulling the towel out to do the same. "Yeah, you would. Everything with you is like a strategic op."

His head already feels a little lighter, the back of his neck cooler where the hair isn't so long anymore, and he scrunches up his face in a near-sneeze as hair flies everywhere. "Just so you know I'd do it," he promises, once the sneeze is just a false alarm.

"Well, Steve, I'm glad you wouldn't just leave me to rot somewhere," Danny says, setting the scissors aside as he starts to brush all of Steve's cut hair to the ground. He digs out a piece of metal to give Steve a reflective surface. "Check it out, see what you think. I'm sure someone could fix it if you hate it."

Steve takes the metal in hand, turning his head slightly from one side to the other to study what he can from the angle, reaching back with one hand to touch the back of his head, fingers running through the shorter strands. "Feels fine. Thanks, babe."

Danny collapses on the couch, legs up on the coffee table. He claps his hands to beckon Zulu into his lap, smirking at Steve and beckoning him in. "Hey, c'mere, I think I see some hair on your face, I should get that off."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, idly scratching the back of his head as he hoists his own feet up, mimicking Danny's leaning posture, and nudges a shoulder against his, grinning slowly. "Where?"