haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

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Danny is beginning to develop a real fondness for the island. Namely, he likes the way he and Steve share space. He almost even likes the adorable way the dog snores in his ear when he slips out of Steve's bed in the middle of the night to curl up with Danny. He really likes when Zulu's owner does the same little trick.

It means he's got a handful of McGarrett as he rouses. Today, he's beaten the odds somehow in being up before Steve and he slides his fingers down Steve's bare back, half-awake and half-coherent as he takes in the look of him.

And that goddamn beautiful tramp stamp.

Zulu is still snoring at his ear, little puppy wuffles and huffs, but Danny displaces him lightly when he starts sinking down the bed with slow kisses down Steve's spine with one goal in mind: get to the treasure.

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"Come on. You didn't baby-talk Grace? Not even a little bit?" Steve appears a little skeptical at the revealing of this information. "You look like a little bit of a baby-talker."

"I spoke gently with respect," Danny says and mimics that tone as he speaks. "But this is not babytalk, Steven, this is just making sure that she understands I respect and love her," he says, slowing down his words. "Are you disappointed?" He sets Zulu on the bed so he can start buttoning up his shirt. "Did you want to be baby-talked?"

Steve sits on the edge of the bed, drawing the dog into his lap, and shrugs. "I still don't see much of a difference - and besides, even if I was, it's not as if I would have any memory of it anyway, would I?"

Danny buttons up the last, flicking the collar up while he settles on a pair of decent navy blue slacks, sliding into them and buttoning up, tucking the shirt in smoothly, hair flying all over. "I was talking about me babytalking you during sex, not that, you creep."

"Oh." He pauses, scratching Zulu behind the ears to the point where his fur sticks up and starts to resemble Danny's hair, and shakes his head. "No, no. I don't think so, no."

Danny snatches up a navy blue tie to match the pants, sliding it around the collar, the white shirt lightweight enough that if he does sweat, no one will see it. "How are we even discussing this? You're supposed to be thinking about building me a closet, remember?"

"Am I?" Steve asks, fingers curling around one of Zulu's ears as they both perk, the puppy tilting his head to study Danny from the bed, the paws that are a little too big for his body comically splayed across Steve's lap. "So, what, is this all I'm good for, Daniel? Sex and building you things?"

Danny finishes with a double-Windsor knot, flipping the collar back down and pulling on a pair of navy-socks, easing closer, resting his shin against the bed and looming over Steve slightly. "Don't be an idiot, Steven," he warns him, mildly.

"And he's insulting me on top of it. Can you believe that?" Steve asks, posing the question to the puppy, who reaches out to paw at Danny's leg, tail thumping against the mattress.

Danny shakes his head in disbelief, leaning forward as if to kiss Steve, and then on the last minute, he presses that kiss to Zulu's head, rubbing a hand over his fur and smirking at Steve from his bent-over position, stealing the dog into his arms. "I'm taking the dog away before you start having conversations with him."

"What, you going to take the dog to work now, is that it?" Steve protests, pushing himself up from the bed and briefly inhabiting Danny's space again, just for a moment, hovering over him before he brushes past and continues out into the hallway to snag his shoes from just inside his own bedroom door.

Danny shifts Zulu in his arms before letting him down to prance and yip while Danny gets his own shoes, sliding into the loafers and heading into the bathroom to lather his hands up with hair gel and get his hair good and tamed. "I could take you to work with me," Danny offers. "I'm going to babysit for most of today."

"Really?" Steve doesn't sound worried, but there's still something of a squint on his face, a look that Danny has referred to more than once as akin to an aneurysm. "You want me to come with?" He is, admittedly, kind of touched that the offer's even been made.

Danny styles his hair pretty easily, having been doing it since he was eighteen, and when he's through with the hands in his hair, he washes them off, shaking them dry. He wanders back to Steve's side and leans up to press a kiss to his lips, grabbing at his cane. "Steven John McGarrett, come watch me handle babies," he formally invites.

"Okay," Steve murmurs, smiling against Danny's mouth. He bends down to finish lacing up his boots and then straightens again, lifting a hand in pause. "Just to clarify, though, this doesn't count as part of our date, right?"

"Why, you don't think watching me be adorable is date-like enough?" Danny asks with a sheer amount of disbelief waiting in his tone. "Is there a rulebook on this somewhere, 'Ten Tips on Dating Steve McGarrett'?"

"I'm just curious, that's all, and - did you just say adorable?" Steve asks, doing his best not to smirk too obviously as he nudges past Danny, checking to make sure Zulu has enough food and water in his bowls before they leave.

"How am I not adorable?" Danny wants to know as he grabs his cane and checks his reflection before starting to hobble his way for the porch. "Please, tell me, how am I not adorable. And keep in mind I will boot you from my bed for too much insulting."

Steve studies him for a beat, head tilted, and then follows after him. "Actually, for starters, the hair is very adorable, if that's the word you want to use."

"See? Now we're going somewhere," Danny mock-brags, enjoying the sound of the cane on the boardwalk, even if he's tired of the strain in his leg muscles at doing this. "Tell the truth. When you were pining, what did you pine over?"

"Who said anything about pining?" Steve retorts, catching up to Danny after he's locked up behind them, stepping into an easy stride next to him, and it might be a little tempting for him to walk normally, but Danny has a harder time keeping up with him on his bad knee and so he slows his pace. "I wasn't pining. I was noticing."

"You say tomato, I say pining," Danny says flippantly, easing his way along with his weight on the cane. He can't wait until he's off the damn thing, even if the lingering pain won't go away. "So you noticed my hair?"

"Well, it's kind of hard not to notice the hair, if you catch my drift," Steve casually answers, even amusing himself by the joke, and he hides a quick smile behind a half-closed fist as it happens, swiping his thumb across his upper lip.

"It is because I take pride in my hair. It's great hair," Danny says defensively, smoothing a hand overtop it as he flashes Steve a smirk. "How about you, huh? You with that damn five o'clock stubble and that torso and the limbs, hell, those limbs. Steve, your hands gave me fodder for weeks."

"Oh, yeah?" That piques Steve's interest, not surprisingly, though he's still grinning when Danny reflexively lifts a hand to smooth over his hair. "And yet you were the one pulling a disappearing act the first couple of days when things started getting too hot."