haolehothead | (no subject)

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As far as cake-baking attempts go, Danny's not the master. Sure, he can do a simple birthday cake, but Steve's? No, he'd needed the big guns for that, which is why he'd showed up to work on one of his days off. The result is worth it -- it's so worth it. He's got a grenade cake, made of chocolate and buttercreme wrapped up. It's only a week into the marriage, but Danny feels like not getting the right gift is pretty much a great way of starting off a marriage in a difficult way.

When he gets back, he makes sure it's tucked away in the ice box. When that's done, he strips down to his shorts and grabs his surfboard, waiting outside for Steve to get back. A surf, a swim, and a cake -- he figures if that's not what Steve wants (outside of some breakfast), then he's just out of luck.

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Danny is already shirtless and he's licking the fork slowly, taking the time to look at Steve with a curious look. "Look, you're getting lucky tonight regardless of what you decide," he says. "Me, I'm gonna head into the bedroom, I'm gonna take my swimsuit off, I'm gonna change into my pajamas. You two can talk like adults."

Laughing, I slide into a seat that their table, picking at my slice of cake and looking up at Steve with a barely concealed grin.

"Fine, go put on your fuckin' pj's," I say to Danny, waving him off dismissively.

Steve's been in situations more awkward than this one, but right now, he can't remember any of them.

He looks down at the plate in his hand, scratches the back of his neck idly, and then takes a seat, clasping his hands together. "I wish I could say I knew where that came from," he says, with a small chuckle.

"'s my fault. I'm the one that jumped there first," I shrug, grinning at him around the tines of my fork.

"'m sorry. Didn't mean to fuck up your birthday."

"No, no," Steve insists, shaking his head almost instantly, even if he's starting to smile at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

"No, you didn't - comparatively speaking, it's probably one of the better birthdays I can remember having."

With a wider grin, I say, "Man, that's kinda fucked up."

But I think, in his position, maybe I'd feel the same way. He's newly married, to somebody who obviously fuckin' adores him. Danny just so happens to be fuckin' weird, is all.

"I'm cool with it, to answer your question. I mean, I'm not gonna go out to find a ribbon to tie around my dick, but if Danny wants to call it your fuckin' birthday present, whatever."

"When you think about the fact that I was overseas for a few years, it makes a little more sense," Steve explains, and he's still dwelling in it for a minute when Neil speaks up, the next part of his response catching him more than slightly off-guard.

"You - " He nearly chuckles all over again, only goes so far as to smile. "Just like that, huh?"

Huffing out a laugh, I look down at my plate, the destroyed piece of cake and all that green frosting.

"The way you two look at each other... I don't wanna fuck that up. I mean, if I thought there was a chance of that happenin', there's no way. But as long as you're cool with it," I shrug, offering him a playful grin. "'s been a while since I been with two guys. Wouldn't mind it. You're both... really fuckin' hot. I mean, fucking Danny might be like fucking the nagging grandmother I never had, but I'm willin' to give it a try."

"Oh, so it's been a while?" Steve replies. His own experience in that area is staggeringly limited, so maybe Neil's someone he can ask about the specifics. He's still grinning when the grandmother comparison is made.

"Don't worry, he nags less during," he adds, off-hand, before glancing back towards the bedroom. "Daniel?"

Danny's changed into one of Steve's pairs of Navy sweats, still shirtless (and still another kind of -less) and has a book in hand as he wanders back into the main room, arching a brow. "Yes, dear?" he replies, evenly. "Did you make a decision?"

"I was married to two guys. I got some experience with it," I say, just as offhandedly, as Danny shuffles into the room like he's all ready for bed.

Leaning back in my chair, hands folded behind my head, I wait for Steve, 'cause this is really up to them. I'm just along for the ride.

Steve looks up - and swallows. Danny's got to know what he's doing to him dressed like that - or undressed, more accurately - and he rises from his seat, leaning over to dip fingers underneath the waistband of the sweats.

"Alright, then," he softly agrees, giving the fabric a small tug.

"What, what are you doing, what is this? Use your words, babe," Danny protests, giving his husband a look that implies that tiny little elves have moved into his brain and have started to excavate all the common sense. "You're the birthday boy and I know you like giving orders. So give an order, Lieutenant Commander."

Lieutenant Commander.

Jesus Christ. I bite back a grin, trying hard not to laugh, watching and so far, feeling fine in this role as an outsider. It's like watching some kind of unknown species under a microscope.

My eyes track the path of Steve's fingers, watching them hook under Danny's waistband, and that, right there, is enough to convince me this isn't a bad idea.

"Fine," Steve murmurs, sharing a glance with each of them, his thumb brushing against Danny's hipbone.

"We're doing this," he says, after a beat, more strongly. "Both of you. All of us."

"Yes, well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," is Danny's reply, lolling his head to the side as he shoots Steve an amused look -- even if that finger on his bare hip is starting to do things to him that makes Danny start getting a bit hazy about what to do next. "Or-ders?" he reiterates.

Snorting out a laugh, I get to my feet, kicking off my shoes and practically slinking over toward them. "Fuck that. How 'bout I give the orders?" I ask with a smirk, turning sideways so I can slip past the two of them and into the bedroom.

Steve shares a glance with Danny, then a shrug, a smile springing to his mouth as Neil slips past them and through the doorway without missing a beat, though there's a touch of incredulity in it. "He might be even worse than you are," he mutters, barely audible enough for Danny to overhear.

"I thought I was the worst thing out there," Danny replies with a smug smirk on his face, shifting just enough so that he's behind Steve, arms slung lazily around his waist from the back, his very-interested dick pressed against Steve's tramp stamp, lips pressed lazily to Steve's shoulder.

Inside the bedroom, I strip off my shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor and turning, at the foot of the bed, to face them both.

Looking past Steve to Danny, I say, "What are you doin', man? Hidin' back there? Come 'ere."

"I'm still deciding," Steve responds, arms resting over Danny's as they slide around his midsection. He leans back into him for a moment and then nods in Neil's direction, a small jerk of his head.

"Go on," he tells Danny, a small urging. A growing part of him wants to see this.

Danny slides down for a moment in order to press a biting kiss to that tramp stamp because it's still his favorite thing in the world, sliding past Steve in order to give Neil a bemused grin. "So, now's the time, huh? I mean, you better not be disappointed in this."

"How 'bout I hold off expectation?" I say, grinning down at him, one finger hooked in the front of his sweats, the other hand resting flat on his chest, letting my thumb brush over a nipple, just because I can.

"So, Lieutenant, you got any rules?" I say, looking over Danny's shoulder at Steve with a smirk.

Steve's arms are crossed idly, and he absently scratches fingers against one bicep as he observes, a faint smile on his lips.

"Rules? I don't know, Danny, did we establish any of those?" he asks, mostly smirking now.

Danny leans, slightly, into Neil's touch, giving Steve a bemused look. "I don't know that I want to see Steve going down on you. No offense," he says to Neil. "And it's slightly less about you and more about the fact that I'm still teaching him." He waits a beat. "Yes, offense," he says, to Steve.