haolehothead | (no subject)

Entry tags:

- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

Danny's been trying to think up some way to try and mend the bridge between him and Steve. It's not that it's destroyed or damaged, but going home and seeing his father being taken from him like that (and seeing Danny taken as well) has got to leave a kind of mark in the brain. Steve's acting like he's fine, but when Danny himself has been having trouble sleeping and can't seem to manage to find a state of peace, he knows that drastic measures are necessary.

Drastic, in this case, involves a pigskin.

Danny's got the ball in his hands and is tossing it up and down, thinking of the last time he played -- which he thinks was Thanksgiving at home with Matt and his three sisters, when they all ganged up on him (even Matt) and somehow Danny was meant to win just him and their father. Sure, they didn't manage to pull out a victory, but they'd put up a good fight.

He'd left a note at the hut for Steve to come down to the volleyball net by the beach and Danny's wearing very little. His t-shirt is tucked into the back pocket of his board shorts and shows off a tan, which matches the brightness of his hair. It's all further evidence that he's been on some kind of island for far, far too long.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Steve's spent the morning working out with the ITF. It's a little more grueling than his normal routine, Bucky and Kara putting them through their paces without much in the way of breaks - still, he appreciates the challenge. It keeps him from becoming lazy or complacent, and he needs that little extra push every now and again to remind him of where he started.

By the time he makes it to the hut and finds the note Danny's left for him, he barely has the chance to change, swapping a sweaty t-shirt for a clean sleeveless one and slipping on a fresh pair of shorts before jogging out to their beach - or the section they've claimed as theirs, at least. And it's pretty impossible for him not to stare when he spots Danny, shirtless and tan and grinning. He looks good Really good.

Danny's tossing the football idly, eyeing the edges of the beach and wondering how much work it'd take for them to put up trees like Steve's got at home, which provide a good amount of coverage. He glances over his shoulder when he hears Steve approaching, unable to help his bemused smile. "Hey," he shouts over. "You look like you're glistening."

"That's 'cause I am," Steve answers matter-of-factly, water bottle in one hand from where he'd made sure to grab it on the way out the door. Whatever Danny's got in mind, his muscles are going to be screaming if he doesn't remember to hydrate, and he screws the top off, downing half the bottle in a series of long swallows. "What're you doing out here?"

Danny smirks as he shows the football, taking a step back in order to lob the ball high and fast to Steve, giving him a pretty good idea about exactly what's about to happen. "Think fast, babe!"

Steve's wedging the bottle into the sand and looks up just in time to see the football spiraling down towards his head, lifting his hands in reflex in front of his face to catch it before he gets it in the nose. He's grinning, though, as he palms the football in both hands, fingertips digging into the leather, and lifts the ball. "You gonna go long for me, Danno?"

Danny can already tell that Steve looks like he's enjoying the hell out of this and smiles fondly, stepping back carefully so he doesn't end up tripping in the sand. He gets to the surf, aware that the water will cushion him if he takes a spill, before holding out his hands. "Yeah, why not!" he shouts above the sound of the wind and waves.

It's been a long time since Steve's thrown a football - a long damn time - but there are some things you don't forget, unconscious muscle movement built in from the cocking back of his arm to the curve of his fingertips to let the ball spiral off, high and long, dropping down in a slow arc towards the place where Danny's standing along the surf. It'll drop right into his arms, and he doesn't even have to move much. Steve holds a hand over his eyes in a makeshift visor, squinting and grinning as he watches the ball fly.

Danny cradles the ball to catch it, a smirk on his face in victorious pleasure -- aware that Steve's talented in this (of course he is) and that he's made the right call to perk up his spirits. "Look at you," he praises smugly. "Looks like you haven't forgotten any of it."

"It's not really the kind of thing you can just forget," Steve calls back, taking a few more steps closer to where Danny stands ankle-deep in the water, ditching his shoes and socks to run barefoot in the sand.

Danny's eyes widen as he lets out a quiet 'oh shit' when he realizes exactly what Steve is intending to do. "Are you seriously about to do what I think you are!" he snaps loudly in Steve's direction when he doesn't seem to be letting up.

"What are you talking about, Danny?" Steve asks, hunching his shoulders and holding up his hands defensively before showing his palms to Danny, silently requesting the ball. "Just getting a little closer. You got a problem with that?"

Danny watches Steve suspiciously, his brows raising slowly as he passes the ball back and forth between his hands. "Okay," he drawls, stepping back once more into the waves before adjusting his fingers in order to get a good spiral on the ball, sending it back to Steve.

Steve catches the ball and holds it tight against his chest, between his arms, wrists bent just so, and he jogs down to the shoreline where Danny stands, moving near him just out of arm's length. "Gonna try and get it back?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow and smirking broadly.

Danny shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds like 'incorrigible' and goes into 'cannot believe I am doing this' as he starts to make his plodding way out of the water, eyeing Steve warily as he tries to appraise where he can tackle him. "I can already see how this is gonna end," he says, stepping closer.

"Just aim for the middle," Steve replies - and then, as if to deliberately bait him, lets the ball drop from his fingertips, watching it bounce and roll across the sand, shifting to a stop a few feet away, but he's still nearing Danny, reaching a long arm out to hook a grip on the shirt sticking out of his shorts pocket, using his hold to pull him in. "Oops," he murmurs, fingertips sweeping across Danny's uncovered hipbone. "Fumble."

Danny shakes his head, amused because of course they've already forgotten about the actual game at hand. "Goddamn it," he says with a laugh, shifting to center his weight before trying to tackle Steve by the middle, using his broader shoulders to really gain some leverage.

Steve's already laughing as Danny makes contact with his stomach - shoulders first, the strongest part of him barreling into Steve with barely any effort, and he just allows himself to fall back. Less resistance means it'll hurt less when he makes contact with the ground, but laughing means the wind will effectively be knocked out of him for a couple seconds. "Unnecessary roughness," he declares, between a laugh and a breath.

Danny's already laughing himself, pinning Steve to the ground with his hands braced over his shoulders. "Some days," he swears, breathless, "I think you just try and do anything to get me horizontal," he adds with a groan, plucking up the ball and getting to his feet, guarding it close to his side.

Steve hauls himself to his feet, hardly caring that he's got sand all over his back now. It's nothing a dip in the ocean won't fix, and he's still smiling as he backs up a few feet, bending down low to assume the position of a defensive lineman. "Trying to get past me now?"

Danny laughs at that, shifting his shoulders as he debates which way to take. "I dunno, you tell me. Aren't you supposed to be the big record-breaker of Kalui...or Waikipika...or something high? Kukui?"

"Kukui High School," Steve replies, nodding as Danny finally gets it. "I don't know, though. I still think Chin might've been a little better than me."

"And, what, your ambition to please your Dad did the rest of the work?" he supposes, even if he's trying to avoid the subject of Steve's Dad, some things are inevitable. "Or did you end up getting all McGarrett about it and playing dirty?" he asks, trying to dart around Steve from the left.

Steve's still not trying to do anything to aggravate his shoulder - the last thing he needs is another flare-up of pain to cause Danny more worry - which is why he waits until Danny fakes right and then goes left, watching his torso to guarantee where he's going to turn before he reaches out for him, grabbing him around the waist with one arm and hauling him back against his chest right as he starts to dart past. "I never play dirty," he teases, hugging Danny tightly.

Danny is pressed snugly up against Steve's chest to the point that he can feel his heart beating. He laughs, softly, and brushes a kiss back against Steve's temple. "That what you would teach a son? Never fight dirty, just fight creatively?"

"Exactly," Steve replies, with an equally matter-of-fact tone and shrug, giving Danny one last squeeze before letting him go and snatching the football out of his hands in the process, running a few feet and pretending to score a touchdown. "Creativity is nine-tenths of how to play the game."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 5