haolehothead | (no subject)

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It's been one hell of a long day and a half. Danny's been retracing his steps for so long that he feels like this ought to have a case file, but he's found out just enough information to know that he'd acted like a real jackass the day before and somehow, he got the idea to chop the hell out of his hair. He's been left with a shaved head the likes he hasn't had since his early twenties and while it's not the end of the world, it's one of those things that he would've at least liked to do when he was aware he was doing it.

When he made sure Savannah was settled away, Danny headed back for the house, grabbing a bottle of wine from the Hub as he went, a blanket, and a bunch of cookies from the bakery, making a spot on the beach with the dog. He's watching the tide come in, trying to eat and drink away the day while he ignores the real regret -- a part of him, after all, just wanted to spend a quiet evening in with Steve, but somehow that never happened. He still doesn't even know how that's possible.

He rubs a hand over his head again, getting used to the lack of hair. It'll grow back brighter, bleached by the sun, and in about six weeks no less (given that it's mostly gel that does the trick). Until then, he's probably going to develop the bad habit of rubbing it, more than a little.

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Steve feels partly guilty in the aftermath of Valentine's Day, if only because he's almost positive he managed to have a hand in Danny's drunken decision to shave his hair off. If the stories are right, it's what he spent his day walking around attempting to encourage, but he can't for the life of him understand why.

He doesn't have to look very far past the hut when he heads out in search of Danny, and walks right up to take a seat next to him on the beach, one hand cupping the back of Danny's head as he leans in to press a kiss to his temple.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll shave too," he replies, gently running his thumb along the shell of Danny's ear.

Danny gives a quiet grunt, not wanting to speak actual words yet -- he's moving up to it, making his way past the disgruntled shame of this moment. It's still foreign to him, to be without his hair, and he wants nothing more than to take yesterday back. "I don't think I earned this much bad karma," he complains. "What's the universe got against me?"

"Nothing, as far as I know," Steve replies, reaching out to run his hand over that smooth head, feeling where the hair has already started to grow back. "But it's hair, Danno - it'll grow back, and it'll be just as nice as it was before."

"It's not the hair," he sighs, leaning into the touch Steve's giving him. He lets out a weak sound, practically a whimper, and tugs the blanket higher around him to try and ignore the rest of the world. "It's you and me missing out on yesterday."

"Danny." Steve has to chuckle a little bit, shifting over to sit behind Danny, drawing him back against his chest as he notches his chin on his shoulder, cheek nudging along his. "You do realize this was one in a long stream of many, many Valentine's Days."

"Yeah, and what's gonna happen next year, huh? You decide you're madly in love with a rabbit?" he bitches, leaning back hard into Steve's body. "Valentine's hearts start trying to choke us? I don't like the idea that this place enjoys fucking with us on a day that should be revered."

"Next year? Yeah, maybe. Could happen," Steve replies, hiding his smile behind Danny's back. "You know, it's sweet that you think it's such a hallowed day and all, but no one said we couldn't celebrate belatedly."

"Hey, it's the moral of it all," Danny insists sharply, reaching up to run his hands through his hair, only belatedly remembering that there isn't any hair to touch. "Ah, fuck," he mutters, leaning out of Steve's grip because he doesn't want to feel trapped, right now.

"You know, you're kind of adorable right now when you're this pouty," Steve replies, leaning back on his hands while he keeps his legs on each side of Danny's hips like a human chair.

"What are you doing, let me go, you maniac," Danny bitches as he swats at Steve's knees and tries to get loose, even though he's right where he wants to be. "I just wanted a nice dinner with you and maybe some post-dinner activities. Is that too much to ask?"

"Looks like you've got the start of all of that right here," Steve replies, keeping his legs right where they are in the wake of Danny's attempts to swat them away. He leans forward again, slipping his hands up underneath the blanket to run over Danny's hips, pushing a kiss to the slight hollow above the back of Danny's neck. "And maybe the start of some of those activities too," he adds lowly, flicking his tongue against Danny's earlobe.

"Does crazed island magic get you horny or something?" Danny asks in disbelief, craning his neck around so he can get a good look at Steve. It turns out to be his mistake. Now, he's just stuck staring at him, sighing, and pulling him closer by the shirt to tug him in and place a slow kiss to his lips. "Tell me you like the hair," he mumbles quietly.

"I love the hair," Steve promises, running his hand over it again, feeling the fuzz tickle against his fingertips. "Almost as much as I love you, alright? You got that?"

Danny's actually going to get used to that incredibly fast. It's a heady experience, like frottage from Steve touching just his head. He doesn't know what to do with it, but he likes it. He lets his shoulders slump over in relaxation as he leans back, tipping his head back until it's resting in Steve's fingertips. "What'd you wake up wearing, huh?" he mumbles lazily. "Savvy was in some Village People thing."

Steve sighs heavily, audibly, his fingers pressing deep into the base of Danny's skull as he proceeds to take advantage of the lack of hair, giving him a deep scalp massage. The question is unavoidable at this point, but he's really been hoping to hold off on his answer for a little while longer, and he turns his head away to mutter, barely audible. "Superman costume."

Danny will regret it later, but he snorts so hard that his whole body convulses. His eyes widen as he gapes at Steve, mouth parted as he wonders just what he's supposed to say to that. "Were the glasses -- you know -- the newspaper lackie glasses, were they included?" he asks, when he finally gets his voice back.

Steve grimaces briefly, but there's no taking it back now that the confession is out there. "Just the suit - and I have glasses, Danny," he adds pointedly, not really sure what Danny is trying to suggest by mentioning it.

"Yes, yes you do, and I love those glasses, I think those glasses make you sexier than you've ever appeared before in your life," Danny says, grave and serious. He lifts a hand to raise to his shaved head, rubbing his fingers through it. "I haven't looked like this since I was twenty-four."

"It's a sign of age, Danny, I don't know how sexy it really is," Steve replies, shrugging absently, but he settles in to rest his chin on Danny's shoulder again, exhaling softly. "I told you I like it."

Danny turns, just enough so that he can thread his fingers through Steve's longer hair, toying with the way it curls at the nape of his neck, idly gliding his fingers over the warm skin there. "I know you like it. And the age thing is the sexy part. It reminds me how you and I are spending the long haul together."

"You know you're only proving my point further about the whole 'one in a long line of Valentine's Days' thing, right?" Steve replies, tucking his face in against Danny's shoulder as he breathes him in, nose nudging through the cotton of his t-shirt. "Mr. McGarrett-Williams."

Danny shivers slightly at the name, burying his nose into Steve's neck in turn, letting out a huff of a laugh. "God, babe," he exhales. "We're not technically married here, you can't go around calling me that or people are gonna start talking."

"It's need-to-know," Steve promises, absently rubbing a hand over the breadth of Danny's chest. "And you are the only one who needs to know at this point in time."

Danny can feel his breath becoming more shallow by the second as Steve touches him, feeling that ring against his torso and knowing what that means. It's a heady sensation, to be sure, and he practically doesn't know what to do with it. "And what else do I need to know?"

"That a little something like a shaved head isn't going to stop me from hauling you off to our bed and giving you a proper Valentine's Day, even if it's belated," Steve replies, resting his palm over Danny's chest, above his heart.