haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

As far as Danny is concerned, the day is both tragic and great at once. It's great because he and Steve, Steve and him, they've managed to get to eight months and that includes two-months of civil partner-whatevership. So, you know, that's not a bad deal. The tragic part, oh jesus, he hates to even think too hard about it. The tragic part involves a lot of gum and a close shave. So now Danny's got barely any hair and he's trying to make himself feel better with a uniform.

He'd called up some old buddies and got a Navy dress-whites uniform with hat (the hat is necessary, especially now) and is at one of the local bars that he does not frequent, just drinking vodka-water at the bar. Steve has got a text with the address and nothing else and, well, Danny is kind of hoping to add a little more great to his day.

Because, because he will cry, he will weep, he will break down if he has to think too much more about how many weeks it will take to grow his hair back out.

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Steve's at the office when he gets the text as the day is winding down, and it only takes one look to recognize where it's coming from, so after doing a last-minute check-in with Chin and Kono, he heads out. He knows exactly where the address points to, but what he's even more concerned about is checking in with Danny. He hasn't heard from him in a while, and he's a little worried as a result. Silence and his partner are two things that never coincide.

When he shows up to the bar, happy hour is just starting, and locals are slowly milling around the tables and couches, but there's no sign of Danny yet. Steve steps up to the bar, resting his forearms on the wood, and waits for the bartender to walk down in his direction before ordering a beer to sip from while he waits.

Danny lingers on the other side of the bar and just takes his time watching Steve. For one, he needs his courage and for two, he enjoys watching the parade of people -- women and men both -- who look at Steve like they want to get a piece of that. It's vaguely satisfying to know they just can't have it.

He orders a beer from the bartender, sending it over to Steve and tugging down his hat just slightly.

A beer comes to him before his even arrives, and he looks at it questioningly, then glances up at the bartender.

"The haole over there," he says, and Steve follows the direction of his gesture to the man dressed in whites, shorter and broad-shouldered, his combination cap tilted down low over his head. Hiding a smile, he picks up the beer and walks down to the other side, leaning against the bar.

"Thanks for the drink, man."

Danny's pretty much made at this point, but he keeps his attention forward as he leans his elbows forward on the bar, pitching his voice down just a little lower. "For you? Anything."

Steve would know that jawline anywhere, even if it's attached to a voice that's struggling to be lower, and he figures it out right when he takes a sip of his beer.

He doesn't spit it out, but a little dribbles out of his mouth before he swipes it off his chin and forces himself to swallow.

"Danny?" he hisses.

Danny lets out a sigh and knows he's gonna have to face the music. It's why he texted Steve the address instead of just chickening out like a part of him had wanted to. "Hey, babe," he greets pleasantly, turning to face him. "So, happy eight months. You like?"

"Do I - " Steve says, giving Danny a once-over. Actually, he gives him more of a fifth-over, taking in every inch of him, from the Navy whites to the shorter hair, and he's grateful for having the bar to lean on in this moment, shaking his head with complete disbelief.

"When did you - how did you - ?"

Danny keeps the cap on because he does not want to deal with the mild panic attack that comes of having a shaved-head in public. He'll happily deal with the other issue, being that. "This?" Danny asks as he flicks the material with a smirk on his laps. "I uh, I called in a favor. Figured you might like a Navy boy for the big eight-month."

It's taking every bone in Steve's body not to just toss Danny over his shoulder in a fireman carry and take him right out of this bar, because damn, he can really wear that uniform, and his fingertips brush against Danny's hip for a moment, holding the beer in the other half of his hand. "I'm definitely surprised. Good surprised."

"I mean, and thank god you like it," Danny says. "Because for Rachel, for Rachel and mine's thing, I dressed up like a British lawyer with the wig? And she loved it, but I felt disgraced, Steven, disgraced," he spits out, leaning into Steve's touch as he swallows back the last of his vodka-water, throat working overtime to swallow it down.

"Well, I don't think anyone's laughing at you now," Steve points out, taking another step closer towards him, tilting his head in order to study Danny's face beneath the cap. "Damn, Danny."

Danny lets out a slow breath and he knows he's gotta do the other thing now. He hates it, he goddamn hates it, but he has to. He pries off the cap with one hand, smoothing his palm out over the hair (or lack thereof) and turning to order another vodka-water from the bartender.

Steve nearly spits again, but the shock is still there as he looks over the top of Danny's head, hair trimmed short, and he reaches a tentative hand out towards it, almost pulling back before he can even touch it for himself. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

"Damn it, Steve," Danny exhales, voice ridden with stress and irritation. "No, it's. No. It's Gracie and a lot of gum and..." He sighs tiredly. He can't get mad at Grace because she is his everything, but he loved his hair. He loves it. And sure, it'll grow back out as blond and long as ever, but he hates having to cut it short.

At this point, he could care less about anyone who happens to be watching them right now. He doesn't care if this even earns him some stares. He leans in while Danny's still facing the bar, gently pressing his lips against his partner's temple.

Danny had been gearing up for another long rant, but he quiets at the kiss, just leaning the slightest bit of distance into Steve. As shitty as the man is at some things, he seems to be getting Danny-handling down pat. "I am just, I am so angry," he says, clenching his fist while speaking calmly. "But I cannot be angry. Because she is my baby girl and it was an accident."

"And if you had to cut anything off, at least it's hair," Steve replies, one hand resting gently between Danny's shoulderblades. "It'll grow back. It always does."

"Yeah, in like, five weeks," Danny mutters, well-aware that he is being a petulant asshole and is pouting away, but his hair has always been his thing, ever since he was eight years old. "I feel, I feel bereft. I feel so goddamn lonely, and I thought maybe hey, maybe this would cheer me up, come out to a bar, pretend to be on leave, and pick you up."

"And?" Steve raises an eyebrow, and he's already beginning to smile, and Danny just looks so good in that suit, so damn good, but also so adorably forlorn, that he wants to do so many things to him right now. He leans in to whisper in his ear, craning his neck slightly. "Aren't you going to try and seduce me, lieutenant?"

"Was doing that when I bought you a drink, huh, asshole," Danny murmurs in reply, cupping his palm around his half-empty glass and turning to survey Steve with a thoughtful and lingering look. "You got a place? Somewhere private?"

Steve sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and takes all the time in the world to let his gaze appreciatively roam over the way Danny's ass looks in those trousers. "You could come back to mine so I can see what you look like out of that uniform and tangled up in my sheets."

Danny's sure that he's gonna look like something real different. No more bedhead, no more mussed sex-hair. It's all goddamn order now and he hates that so much. He doesn't hate watching Steve flirt with him like this and so he steps a step closer into Steve's personal space, lips precariously close to the pulse at his neck. "Nobody's there who's gonna mind?"

Steve sighs quietly, taking another sip of his beer for good measure, and when he leans down, his face is hovering inches away from Danny's. "No one apart from you and me, if that's alright with you."

"Good, cuz I heard about you, McGarrett," Danny says, smarmy as ever and he hooks an arm around his neck to pull himself in tighter. "And I hear you got a nosy sister who likes to poke open doors where she shouldn't and then give certain guys hell for being too pale around the ass area. I hear things like that."

"Those are lies about my sister," Steve answers, even as he tries to repress a grin. "Complete and total untruths."

"I swear to god, Steve, she smacked my ass and called it pale. We need to have words about boundaries," Danny mutters, yanking up his cap and grabbing hold of Steve's shirt by the fistful, yanking him along.

"Maybe we could have those words after tonight?" Steve asks, looking hopeful even as he steals one last pull from his beer and leaves it half-empty on the bar with a nod to the bartender before trailing behind Danny.

"Fine, but only cuz you're pulling off those puppy eyes pretty damn well," Danny says as he reaches back to grab a fistful of Steve's shirt and haul him along, more than intending to capitalize on the evening.

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