haolehothead | (no subject)

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When the morning sunlight comes spilling into his room, Danny makes a muffled noise of protest as he rolls back onto his stomach and starts to regret asking Steve to put in windows. Sure, windows are great and they let the light in and now he feels like he lives in a home and not a shack, but in the morning, now he just feels grumpy and glared on.

Danny rolls onto his back and sighs, staring at the ceiling and glancing at the wall to his side that separates his room from Steve's. Usually he just knocks on it and asks if Steve wants breakfast, but Danny's got a full day with a shift at the IPD and then over to the Children's Office. Not to mention, he does want to see some people about house repairs. So, it's a long day, and he'd still like to squeeze in Date Number Six.

He finally coaxes himself out of bed. The sooner he gets to the office, the sooner he gets back for dinner. He knows he's going to be around little ones inevitably, so he doesn't go for the tie, getting an old Jets football jersey and sliding it on atop a pair of worn-in jeans. Yeah, he's gonna catch hell, but he learned his lessons about ties around babies when Grace was tiny.

He makes a note to pick up hair gel when he comes back because his hair is flyaways and tears, no order to it as he starts making noise to tell Steve that he's up. "Hey! I'm making fruit for breakfast. You know, just like every other day, since you haven't put a stove in for me!" he shouts, voice escalating on every word.

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Steve's midway through a bite of eggs when he looks up with a mild frown, although he finishes chewing before he actually responds to Danny ticking off today's schedule. "Number six?" he asks, washing his bite down with a brief sip of coffee. "It's number five."

Danny shakes his head. "Nah, it's six," he says, sliding his eggs onto the fork and taking a long bite before holding up a hand. "So first, we did that breakfast thing. And then two was when you took me surfing and I called you all those really ungrateful things and stormed back to the hut to sulk in peace. Three was dinner," he counts, still ticking it off on his fingers. "Four was the jazz club after I talked to Rachel and we listened to that piano stuff. Five was that nature hike where I got bit by every insect alive and then six'll be tonight's dinner. I plan on cooking you pasta."

Steve gives himself a second or two to actually count them over in his head. Frankly, he's surprised Danny even counted surfing as a date, given how poorly the afternoon had ended, but they'd made up soon enough shortly before dinner that night - which, apparently, had counted as another date entirely. "Oh," he finally says, nodding once, and takes another bite of his breakfast. "That'll be good, then."

"Yeah," Danny agrees, chugging down the rest of his coffee in a hurry, sliding the chair back as he brings the dishes over to the sink. "But like I said, I gotta go," he says, heading for the bathroom and keeping the door open as he starts to brush his teeth.

Really, and here he'd thought Steve was being a gentleman and just letting Danny have some time. "If I don't get back in time tonight, we can just put the date off for a while!" he calls over, mouth full of lather.

"What?" Steve looks up, pauses, then slides his own chair back, standing up and following Danny over to the bathroom, resting his forearm against the doorframe.

"Where's the fire, Danno? I thought we were going to have a little more time this morning."

Danny leans over the sink and guzzles back some of the water before spitting, turning and giving Steve an incredulous look. "Do you just tune me out?" he wonders, sliding in closer and pressing a palm to Steve's chest as he wraps his hand in fabric and hauls him closer for a long kiss. "Huh? Do you just not listen to me?" He relinquishes him, easing past to start getting his things together. "IPD, Children's Office, A/C, Dinner," he lists on his fingers, picking up all the papers he'd brought home to learn about island history and procedure.

Steve pushes his way off and away from the doorframe, arm swinging back down by his side as he trails behind Danny, stopping a short distance away while he collects his papers. "Fine, fine," he says, though he can't help but experience a little disappointment at Danny having to rush right off first thing after breakfast. Still, while he has him here - and a smile makes its way onto his lips as he hooks fingers in the belt loops of Danny's jeans, tugging him back just enough to turn him around and leave a longer, deliberate kiss on his lips, the kind he'll be spending a good amount of time trying to not think about through the day.

Danny stumbles backwards, practically tripping into McGarrett's arms. He braces himself with both hands on his hips and lets out a low moan against Steve's lips, closing his eyes and just indulging in it. When he eases away, he doesn't go far. "I was thinking, I was thinking that if I did get back tonight, we could maybe, we could do that thing you've been trying every time you sneak a hand down my pants."

"Hey." Steve's voice is warning, low and slightly husky, but there's still something of a mischievous twinkle in his gaze as he gives Danny a fond look. "I would just like to point out that every time I do, there's some pretty hard evidence lending itself to the fact that you want it too."

"Oh, so, it's hard evidence now, is that what it is?" Danny echoes with a bemused smirk, rubbing his thumb in circles at the small of Steve's back, having slipped under his clothes to just tease. He sways him to one side, then the other considerately. "So, here's what's gonna happen. We are officially past date number five, so I am ready to put out. Which means we're gonna have sex. And we're not just gonna have sex, Steve, I'm gonna screw you until you forget your name, babe. I'm gonna make you see stars and then I'm gonna make em all go away."

"Oh," Steve chuckles, fully amused even as he struggles to repress a shiver, the majority of which ends up lodged in his spine right where Danny's thumb is nudging. But he grins, fingers tangling in the green of the jersey, right along the white numbers, and leans down, lips grazing the curve of Danny's jaw. "You know, you're saying these things and still expecting to walk out this door in five minutes, do you realize that?"

"I do," Danny agrees with a nod, which makes Steve's lips brush up and down. "I do realize that is what is going to happen, but I think that I want you to be really pent-up and gagging for it, Steve, that's what I really want." Danny just smirks, and it's only slightly teasing at this point. "After I'm finished with blowing you, fucking you, fingering you, I think I'm gonna let you do me til we offend the neighbors with the volume," he says, letting his gaze drop down to Steve's belt-line.

Steve lingers in his space a few beats longer, head slightly cocked, observing him quietly, and then finally, he nudges away, lips brushing against Danny's hairline, and prods him in the direction of the door. "Go to work," he murmurs, and he's walking stiff as he moves back toward the table, sitting down and reaching for his coffee.

Danny grins as he grabs the sheath of papers and adjusts his jersey and then his jeans. He's glad for the walk, seeing as it'll give him time to calm down. "I'll see you tonight, babe," Danny promises, taking a long sip of orange juice before he ducks out the door to head up to the IPD for the day, digging his attention into work.

That still doesn't keep thoughts of Steve at bay. He tries to keep them innocent as he totes around babies and plays games with toddlers, but by the time he gets to talking to housing crew, the thoughts are distinctly unpure all over again.

That, and it's been about eight hours since that morning. Danny's got one more stop and that's the Compound kitchen, where he finagles wine and starts looking for steaks they can grill up. Boar steaks are gonna have to do, he realizes, apron around his waist and spatula in hand.

Edited 2011-03-12 03:55 (UTC)

Steve, meanwhile, throws himself into some more work, spending the bulk of his time outdoors aside from the hottest part of the day, when he takes his lunch inside and drinks some lemonade he'd made earlier in the week. He even breaks from work to catch a wave or two just down the beach from the hut, and when he comes back inside to clean up for dinner, he puts on a nicer shirt, leaving the first few buttons undone, and the pair of khakis he'd found to wear to the Mardi Gras party.

When he overhears the sound of the front door opening, he's just coming out of his room, rolling the sleeves on the shirt up to his elbows, and grins.

"How was your day, dear?"

Danny juggles the wine and the steak, letting out an indignant noise when he sees what Steve is wearing. "Hey, hey, now this is not fair," he says, sliding the steak and potatoes, along with the salad on the table. "Look at you, look at you all dressed up and...and do I see buttons?" he says with shock. "Okay, I gotta go change. I feel, I feel disgusting right now."

And he's got spit-up on him, so he has to change anyway.

"What's wrong with this?" Steve asks, holding out his arms and looking down at himself, frowning while he gives his own appearance a quick study. "You can change if you want," he adds, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the table. "I just finished setting."

"Well, I brought you back dinner," Danny says as he lingers in his bedroom, keeping the door open as he strips off the jersey and the jeans, wandering around the room in his boxers as he slides into a pair of pressed black slacks and a deep-purple shirt, fetching a silver tie and sliding it under the collar, fingers expertly knotting it. "You look good!" Danny calls out. "Good enough to eat. What's it you say in pidgin? Lani," he draws out the word.

"You're learning," Steve calls back, briefly glancing to the bedroom door as one hand reaches out for the wine, and at that moment Danny wanders by, clad in just a pair of boxers, and his fingers stumble against the bottle and he knocks it over with a loud, dull sound. He winces, scrambling to pick it up and ensure that it isn't broken as he quickly averts his gaze.

Danny finishes with his tie and changes into a new pair of socks before coming back out in time to see Steve putting the wine bottle back, not a drop poured out of it. Danny affords him a suspicious and dubious look. "Hi," he draws out that word too, bemused.

"Hi," Steve quickly answers, clearing his throat and moving to set the food out on the plates, bringing the wine bottle along as a brief afterthought. When he looks up again, he can't help grinning. "Nice tie."

"What can I say, I wanna dress nice for this date with this guy I know," Danny says, off-the-cuff as he grabs a couple of napkins and brings them to the table. He slides two wine glasses down, as well, licking his lips as he takes a seat. "So, Steve, did you stay good and pent-up like I wanted?"

"You'll get the answer to that question after dinner," Steve responds, quiet and even, and reaches out for the wine, pouring a decent amount into both glasses before he looks down at the plate in front of him, making a surprised sound. "You made steak? What, is this a special occasion or something?"

Danny leans forward for his glass of wine, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow and giving an indignant noise. "Why wouldn't I make you steak? And of course it's a special occasion. I have graciously agreed to put out. There is nothing more special than that."

"You said you were going to make pasta," Steve says, picking up his own glass in the same moment and leaning back in his seat, testing the strength of that superglue. "I'm not complaining, just noticing."