For all of you reblogging my ten year old Hawaii five 0 posts, here's my ten year old Steve/Danny fanfic that I never had the guts to publish. The title is Sweet Disposition, simply because the Steve/Danny fanvid set to that Temper Trap song is so foundational
The fic is now also on AO3, but I backdated it so it won't show up under new works in the tag. However feel free to comment and/or leave kudos!
Danny can hear the sound of shots being fired, vaguely. It’s muffled by the hood on the car trunk he has been shoved into, even though he has punched out the taillight and has been frantically waving for help. Mostly he’s too busy having a panic attack to be aware of his surroundings.
He knows, rationally, that he has enough oxygen to live (because punched-out taillight, come on), he knows the trunk of the car isn’t shrinking, closing down on him – but this doesn’t stop Danny from repeatedly wondering if he will die in this trunk, never to see the sun again, never to take a fresh breath of air again, or hold his baby daughter again.
Danny wishes he could scream, but all that escapes his lips is a pained wheeze. He realizes his arms are covered in bruises and cuts from where he’s trashed around in the confined space, unable to think clearly.
Then, a shout, two shots, and the deafening sound of a bullet slamming into metal. Whatever air that is left in Danny’s lungs is punched out in a whimper.
Another thumping noise, and the trunk of the car is thrown open. Danny blinks up into the wide-eyed face of Steve McGarrett, who forces out, “Danny, you all right?”
Danny can’t even manage a yes or no before Steve keels over, collapses with arms crossed on the back of the trunk supporting his weight.
“Steve?” Danny croaks out weakly and reaches out a trembling hand.
“It’s nothing,” Steve grits out between clenched teeth, “we got the bastards who tried to kidnap you.”
“Tried?” Danny says, trying to grin. “I think they did a great job of it, actually.” He resents the way his voice breaks, and how Steve looks up with him with worry in those stupidly big, blue-green hazel eyes.
This is when Chin comes running over to them, black hair sweat-curled on his forehead.
“Steve!” he shouts. “You took a bullet to the back – are you OK?”
“Bullet – hey, what?” says Danny and sits up so quickly he almost bumps his head on the trunk lid.
“I have a vest,” Steve mutters, but there’s a crease of pain between his brows. “Gonna leave a bruise, that’s all.”
Chin is already on the phone, calling for an ambulance and paramedics, and Danny scrambles out of the car, drawing in deep breaths.
He helps Steve off with the vest, carefully, to assess the damage. A terrible bruise is already forming in the low of Steve’s back, thankfully a couple of inches away from the spine.
Danny smiles, and is about to tell Chin to cancel the ambulance, when he feels his knees give out. Steve catches him in his arms, like Danny is some goddamn damsel in distress or whatever, and clutches him close.
“I’m okay,” Danny tries to tell him, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. “I’m okay, it’s just – I was in that trunk for a long time. I’ll be fine.”
*
The entire day has been dedicated to paperwork from yesterday’s case. When Steve has finally had enough, he gets up, slams the door to his office shut behind him and walks into Danny’s office instead.
“Hey.”
Steve finds his voice lot lower than he expected. Danny’s head shoots up, from where he’s sitting by his desk.
His carefully combed hair has fallen into disarray during the day, and a hand comes up to smooth down sun-bleached strands.
“What?” Danny replies, his New Jersey-accent still, stubbornly, coloring the word.
“You just, uh... You seem a bit down, babe,” Steve tries, adopting an easy stance with arms crossed, and leaning towards the door frame.
Danny smiles and shakes his head, putting his hands on the desk to get out of the chair.
“Nah,” he drawls. “It’s been a long day, is all.”
Steve half-turns and points over his shoulder with a thumb.
“You wanna come over to my place? I got some beers in the fridge, we could kick back on the lanai and just... You know. Relax.”
There is a beat, where they both look at each other, Steve intently, and Danny halfway out of his chair.
Then Danny pushes back the chair and throws his arms up.
“Yeah, sure, sounds good!”
They drive to Steve’s in uncharacteristic silence – Steve is behind the wheel, as usual. He throws some sidelong glances at Danny every once in a while, but Danny just stares out the window, leaning his chin on his hand. Steve is starting to get really worried, because something has to be seriously wrong if Danny is willingly silent for this long.
Not that Steve has a conversation opener either, so he just pulls up into his driveway and jumps out of the car, trusting his partner to follow him.
They are already seated on Steve’s lanai, sun setting over the vast expanse of sea, when Danny silently reaches over for a beer, and Steve snaps.
“Danny, what the hell’s wrong with you.”
Danny jumps and almost drops the bottle.
“Jesus Christ, Steve!” he says, leaning back with a hand theatrically placed on his chest. “There’s nothing wrong with me, what’s wrong with you, now that’s a question we all should be asking, that I have, in fact, been asking all these years! What’s wrong with me, he asks, like he isn’t the expert on being wrong-”
“Hey, come on,” Steve tries, with a softer tone. “I know something’s up.”
He tries to catch Danny’s gaze, and when Danny finally looks back, there is a shimmer of fear in those pale blue eyes. Something in Steve’s stomach clenches.
“I’ve been thinking, is all,” Danny says after a moment, looks down, and opens his beer. “You getting shot yesterday, me being... well, more or less useless, trapped like a rat.”
“Hey, hey, whoah,” Steve interrupts, throwing a hand up. “You had the presence of mind to punch a taillight out and catch somebody’s eye, and that was how we were able to find you, Danny. You were anything but useless.”
Steve falls silent, desperately wanting to convey so many things, but unable to put any of them into words.
“I’m just... I’m so sorry for never noticing you have claustrophobia. I feel like, like I should have known.”
Danny waves away his apology.
“No, babe, it’s okay. It’s... I’ve had it under control for a really long while, hasn’t bothered me since I was a teen. But, well, uh, you could say I’ve had a... I’ve relapsed, sort of.”
Steve frowns.
“How come?” he asks cautiously, hand wavering in the air, half between returning to the arm rest and half between landing on Danny’s arm.
“You remember that time, a good while back, when I almost choked on that... uh, that sarin gas in that house?” Danny waves uncertainly in the air. “I was in the hospital and everything.”
“Of course I remember,” Steve says quietly. He can remember the helplessness and the fear of losing Danny all too well, seeing him on a respirator, surrounded by white-clad hospital staff with worried expressions. He doesn’t think he’ll ever not remember it.
Danny throws a glance his way, before looking down again and gripping his beer bottle with both hands.
“Yeah, so, that kind of brought it back a little. I had some therapy, and it sort of went away again. Like, I still avoid elevators if I can, but...” He breaks off to give a quick bark of laughter.
“I mean, look at what happened last time I got on an elevator.”
Steve says nothing.
Danny looks up at the darkening sky, a breeze tugging at errand strands of hair.
“Then we chased down Farruq, remember? And that motion-detecting bomb latched onto me, well – if it hadn’t been for you, sticking around and talking to me, I probably would have snapped. And after that – You know, being buried under a house didn’t help things either.”
Steve says nothing for a while, before he repeats,
“Danny, I’m so sorry.”
His hand finally comes to rest on Danny’s arm, just below the elbow. Danny looks up from where he is slightly leaned down, and while he flashes Steve a grin, he still looks strangely vulnerable.
“Yeah, well, what can you do?”
He straightens up, and takes a swig of his beer. Steve only now remembers he’s holding one in his hand as well, and lifts it to his mouth.
They finish the beers in companionable silence; the tension has eased, and there seems to be nothing more to say.
Steve glances at Danny from time to time, still. The knowledge that he loves Danny sits heavy in his chest; it has for so long that he can’t even remember when it started.
In a way, it’s like he discovers it every day, when Danny’s big gestures make him laugh, the way a sunbeam can light his eyes, the sight of his collared shirt stretching over the broad of his back, how he sometimes talks through his button nose; all of this can unexpectedly punch Steve in the gut with how goddamn much he cares.
Steve snorts. A man from New Jersey who hit him in the face with a fist the day they met; whose bullet-grazed arm Steve had twisted up onto his back in a fit of vengeful anger — and here he is, head over heels.
“What?” Danny demands to know, and bumps Steve’s arm with an elbow. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’,” Steve replies, and gives him a brief, but fond, look. Then he sighs and gets up.
“Sun’s set. Maybe we should head to bed, there’s work tomorrow.”
“I don’t put out on the first date, Steven,” Danny jabs, but gets his empty bottle and rises to his feet as well.
The comment stings a little, but Steve grins and replies:
“Babe, we’ve been dating for three years by now. We’ve put our lives on the line for each other – I even lied to the feds to save you once. What’s a man to do?”
“Oh, so you’re going to hold that over my head now?” Danny says, mock upset, as he follows Steve to the door. “Besides, it is always me who’s left with the bill, McGarrett. Don’t even try to deny it.”
Steve interrupts their scheduled banter when he opens the door, to earnestly ask if Danny will have Grace over the weekend. He regrets his question immediately, as it makes Danny’s shoulder slump and a frown appear.
“No, she’s going on a school trip,” he says tiredly, and puts the beer bottle in the designated box under the sink. “Typical, huh? Had to be on one of my weekends.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, wishing more than anything to be able to comfort his partner. It feels so backwards, for this man who loves his daughter so much he moved across sea and country to be with her, to continually not get to see her at all.
“You’re saying that a lot today,” Danny grins. “It suits you.”
Relief floods through Steve at the laughter lines forming around his partner’s eyes, and at the way Danny’s upper lip pulls back over his teeth. He wishes he could keep that smile on Danny’s face forever, because it makes Steve’s lips twitch in response.
He twists his body around Danny to put his bottle under the sink as well,.
As he tries to straighten up, Danny says: “You big softie.”
There’s a strange tenderness in Danny’s voice that makes the breath catch in Steve’s throat.
Despite his best intentions, Steve finds his gaze travelling down to Danny’s thin lips, parted over a soft exhalation. Their faces are way too close for comfort, but as Steve tries to move away, he feels Danny gently place his hand on his arm.
Steve knows right then and there that he’s lost.
He swallows, and moves in for the kiss. He tries to be careful, to test the waters, fully prepared for rejection, for being pushed away. Steve knows he can’t blame the beer – it was one beer for fuck’s sake – but he can’t have misread the situation so disastrously wrong, can he?
He closes his eyes and brushes his lips against Danny’s, and apparently he read the situation completely right. Detective Danny Williams fists two handfuls of his t-shirt and pushes their faces together.
Steve lets out a surprised noise, but counters eagerly; he opens his mouth and Danny deftly slots their lips together in a long kiss.
Steve’s hands come up, helplessly, to cradle Danny’s face. The grip is desperate, he knows, but this is three years in the making and Danny, he tastes so good beneath the tang of beer.
Eventually even Navy SEALs need to come up for air. They break apart, Steve letting his hands fall to Danny’s shoulders while Danny maintains his grip on Steve’s shirt.
“What are we doing,” Danny says, and looks up into Steve’s eyes. Steve is distracted by how out of breath Danny sounds and manages to stutter out an, “Uh, well...” before Danny shoves him away and runs a hand through his hair.
“We’re friends, partners, we... we work together, you are, and this is me being very liberal, technically my boss, Steve! And what about Catherine? Oh my god, this is so stupid, I’m so stupid, shit.”
Danny buries his face in his hands, and Steve feels like something is slipping through his fingers. He grabs Danny’s shoulder, maybe harder than he intended to, and forces Danny to look at him.
“No, you’re not,” he says, with a low, breathy voice that surprises him. “No, Danny, we’re both stupid.”
This startles a chuckle out of Danny, but Steve presses on before he can say anything.
“Catherine and I... well, let’s say monogamy never was her thing, not really. And she... I think she knows, Danny. I think she knows how... how important you are to me.”
Steve looks down. It’s so fucked up that this small admission, this little proclamation that is absolutely true, just that Danny is important to him, that this takes so much effort. More courage than stepping in front of a bullet.
Danny blinks, honestly perplexed.
“And you?” he says quietly. “How about you and monogamy?”
The question takes Steve by surprise. It actually kind of pushes the air out of his lungs because, well, because.
“Danny,” Steve says, almost angry, now desperately gripping both Danny’s arms. “You – you have to know that we – for fuck’s sake Danny, we’ve been together – partners and friends – for more than three goddamn years, do you really think I would be with anyone else?”
Danny laughs again, but it’s more of a strangled noise, and Steve’s stomach takes a dip when he looks down.
“I don’t fucking know, Steve,” he says, and the softness is terrible, it makes Steve want to claw any uncertainty from Danny, to crush his body against his own.
“I don’t know,” he repeats, and looks up. “How could I? We’ve been skating around each other for years, and I’ve... Well, my marriage didn’t last, and that’s supposed to last forever, isn’t it?”
Steve is taken aback, but he doesn’t let go.
“I don’t care about that,” he says, a little curtly, but tries to soften it by touching his nose to Danny’s. “I just want to do what feels right.”
“Since when have you been in touch with your feelings, McGarrett?” Danny asks incredulously, and Steve laughs while Danny pokes his chest. “This is wrong. Did you sneak in a couple of vodka shots with your beer or what?”
“Oh shut up,” Steve commands, and pushes their foreheads together, because Danny hasn’t shoved him away. Danny lets out a shuddering sigh that makes Steve tense up in return, and they look into each other’s eyes.
“So, what do you think feels right?”
Steve pauses, considers the look in Danny’s eyes. There’s apprehension, yes, but there’s also something calculating. Expectation.
So Steve lets himself do what comes naturally, which always has been remarkably easy around Danny. He grabs his face with both hands, buries his fingers in the darker hair on Danny’s neck, and kisses him again.
*
Danny goes with it. He’s kissing Steve McGarrett, his, technically, boss, his long-time friend, and, let’s face that this is a point of interest, a tall man.
This is new to Danny. The man part, not the tall part. Rachel is taller than him – with heels, a good inch taller, even – but the man part is pretty new. Danny guesses that, technically, there’s not much of a difference.
He cranes his neck to get better access, and licking into Steve’s mouth feels just as good as any woman he’s ever kissed, even though their stubble grating together is a new sensation.
Steve is a good kisser, alternating between pressure and lighter nips. Danny gives as good as he gets, and finds that if he bites Steve’s lower lip, he can elicit a moan that goes straight down to his groin.
When Steve pushes Danny up against the counter and presses a leg in between his, Danny’s attention is brought to the beginning situation in his pants.
“I hope you’re sure about this,” he mumbles into Steve’s neck. “Because I am not backing down anymore, so...”
“So, what?” Steve breathes into Danny’s ear, sounding curious. Danny bites his lower lip and cranes his neck to give Steve access as he kisses his way down his throat.
“So I’m not letting your sorry ass go,” Danny bravely continues, and starts to slide his hands under Steve’s t-shirt, to feel muscle ripple under his touch. “You hear me? I’m sorry to say, we’re in for it now, and there’s no going back, so, cold feet? Not an option.”
“I hear you,” Steve mumbles against the dip of Danny’s throat, and starts to unbutton the shirt. Danny supposes he invited it, what with having snuck his hands onto bare skin first, but there is a lurch in his stomach as he realizes that yes, they are actually in for it. No going back.
To his own surprise, this makes him hold on tighter. Danny starts to tug at Steve’s shirt, and when Steve is done unbuttoning Danny’s shirt, he obligingly lifts his hands above his head so Danny can lift it up and toss it away.
He’s seen Steve’s naked chest before, of course, but touching it? Not just a poke or a pat, but actually caressing skin and feel the muscles beneath it shiver; it’s a whole new world. Danny buries his face against the crook of Steve’s neck, and marvels how they apparently have the exact right height difference for this to feel amazing. He squeezes on a tattooed bicep, digs his fingers in deep enough to dent the skin.
Then he lets his teeth catch on a collarbone, and he hears Steve gasp and clutch Danny’s back, which makes him feel very pleased. He lifts his head to gently bite Steve’s jawline, curiously examining the sensation of stubble against tongue.
He finds that he quite likes it.
“So how do you wanna do this?” Danny says, mumbling the words into Steve’s skin. “Are we going to dry-hump each other against this wall like teenagers?”
Steve leans back a little, a goofy smile dimpling his cheeks.
“Well, if that’s what you want,” he says. Danny huffs in outrage and splays his hand against Steve’s chest.
“What I want is for us to act our age, and realize that this is probably leading to a bed-situation sooner or later, and seeing as it’s been rather a long day, I would like that to be sooner. It would also help me not to get a crick in my neck from trying to kiss your freakishly tall frame.”
Danny’s ramble peters off when the goofy smile stays firmly put on Steve’s ridiculous face.
“What?” he demands, and does not yelp when Steve grabs his waist and hoists him away, towards the stairs.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Steve admitted, in a breathless voice that makes Danny’s pants feel a little uncomfortable.
“I wasn’t asking anything, Steve,” Danny protests as he’s dragged along, “at no point did I utter a question about taking you to bed – I was just stating a fact, all right?”
Steve pauses at the bottom of the stairs to grab Danny’s face and kiss him into silence. Danny flails a little, but on a whole, he can’t muster up much resistance. Instead he starts toeing off his shoes and rips off his socks a little awkwardly.
Steve catches on quickly and follows suit. When he’s kicked off his sandals, Danny starts up the stairs, leaving Steve stumbling in his wake.
“You seem to be in a hurry,” Steve says as he catches up with Danny, twirls him around, and drags him down on the bed with him. Danny tries to land gracefully, but he knees Steve in the side, drawing a pained, “Oomph,” from him. Danny sighs, and braces himself with an elbow.
“How you got the nickname ‘Smooth Dog’ will forever be a mystery to me,” he muses as he rights himself, and brackets Steve’s hips with his legs. Steve smiles up at him, and even though it’s still goofy as all hell, there’s also an intensity to his eyes that makes Danny weak at the knees.
“What, nothing to say in your defence?” Danny asks, and balances on one elbow as he pulls a hand through disarrayed hair. McGarret’s handiwork, no doubt. Steve, the crafty little shit, says nothing but reaches for Danny’s pants and unbuttons them deftly.
“Hey, hey whoah,” Danny says, and Steve’s smile falters, and he starts to withdraw his hands. Danny frowns and pushes one of Steve’s hands back down.
“I just meant, you didn’t give me a chance to do the same,” he clarifies, and digs for Steve’s pants as well. A grin is forming on Steve’s lips, but as Danny’s hand comes into contact with the warm, heavy bulge in Steve’s stupid cargo pants, the grin quickly transforms into a gasp.
“Oh, you like that, babe?” Danny asks, and he knows he’s babbling, he really is, because he has never touched another man’s cock. Thought about touching them, yes, but never actually touched one.
“Yes,” Steve answers, and the simplicity, the honesty of the answer sends Danny reeling. He blinks once, and then gently presses his palm over Steve’s cock.
A small sound escapes Steve — Danny could have sworn it was a whine, but Commander Steve McGarrett does not, in his experience, whine. Nag, groan, mutter, yes. But never whine. Just to be sure, he does it again, even using his fingers to knead a little.
This time, Steve bucks up into his hand, and Danny thinks that he can definitely get behind this (pun not intended, oh god let’s not go there just yet). He sits up on his knees, and attacks Steve’s fly with both hands, unzipping with an efficiency that stuns even himself.
He really, really wants to know what kind of sounds Steve is going to make when there’s skin-on-skin contact.
“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly. He obligingly lifts himself off the bed a little as Danny forcefully drags his cargo pants down over his ass and halfway down his thighs. Danny takes a moment to admire them, running his hands up the muscled legs, and plants a kiss to Steve’s breastbone.
They haven’t kissed for a while, he realizes when Steve hungrily chases his mouth with his own, and they’re occupied with that for a while. Steve grabs Danny’s back, and pushes him down onto himself, grinding his boxer-clad groin against Danny’s.
Danny revels in the feeling of broad, warm hands roaming all over his back, occasionally trailing down to squeeze his ass. These hands slip under pants and boxers in one move, and Danny would never had guessed how fucking amazing it is to have his ass cupped by big hands.
“Uh, Steve,” Danny says into his mouth after a while, heart racing. Danny has worked himself into near-full hardness, and he can feel Steve poking him in the stomach.
Steve murmurs something unintelligible back, and Danny lifts his head little to meet Steve’s gaze.
“My knee’s giving me a little trouble,” he admits with a wince. Steve’s eyes widen a little, and he sits up to let Danny fall to the side.
As soon as Danny’s back hits the mattress, Steve is tugging at his pants, and before Danny can say so much as a “watch the zipper”, cold air hits his cock, and he gasps in surprise.
Steve discards Danny’s pants and boxers with a speed truly becoming of a Navy SEAL; Danny just watches with big eyes as a man – who he knows has killed people, who he argues with on a daily basis, who has a ton of baggage rivalling, if not exceeding, Danny’s own – gently envelops a hand around Danny’s length and gives it an experimental squeeze.
Danny throws his head back and bites down on a groan. Okay, we can throw our baggage into the same trunk, sounds fine, he thinks. His hands fumble in the air until they come into contact with Steve, who he forcefully pulls up onto himself.
“I, uh, I feel like I should tell you that I haven’t, strictly speaking, done anything like this with a man before,” he pants, looking into Steve’s eyes. They’re darkened with lust, and Steve’s mouth is parted, and he’s breathing heavily, and Danny has not seen anything so hot in a long, long time.
Steve doesn’t say anything for a beat, and Danny starts squirming a little, because Steve’s hand is still on his groin. But Steve places a kiss on Danny’s neck (which, okay, is very nice)
“Do you... I mean, we can take it slow,” Steve says into Danny’s jawline. It’s not very convincing, seeing as his hand doesn’t move anywhere. Danny twists his hips a little experimentally, and shudders at the jolt of pleasure it sends through him.
“No, no, no,” he replies, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t want that. I just want you to know that I’m a little – no, very – unprepared for the realities of man-on-man action.”
Steve removes his hand, in a long, soft slide that has Danny trembling. He lifts himself up on his arms, pressing his boxers against Danny’s naked skin, which, unfair much? Danny blinks up into a dumb, smiling face, and has to squint a little.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” Steve says, and there’s something in his voice, in his face, that makes Danny’s heart ache.
“Come here, you goof,” he says, grabs Steve’s face with both hands and lock their lips together in a wet kiss.
“I mean, I’ve done things with guys, but none... It wasn’t serious, none of it,” Steve continues, almost helplessly, as Danny’s hand inches its way into his boxers.
Having another man’s cock in his hand is another new experience for today, but Danny sort of likes in the novelty of it. The skin is silky, the flesh underneath firm – and Steve is uncut, so that is interesting. The sounds Steve makes in his throat, those are also very interesting.
“I used to admire a, a Johnny Adams a little too much in high school,” Danny murmurs into the air, as Steve gasps into his shoulder. “I might have snuck some glances in the locker room, I maybe tried to impress him on the baseball field, that kind of thing. But I also had a crush on Maria Lopez, and all in all it seemed a lot easier to ask her out to the movies than Johnny.”
Steve groans and lifts his head to kiss Danny on the corner of his mouth. Danny doesn’t know if it’s meant to encourage or discourage talk, but his breath gets knocked out of him when Steve hitches up his hips to pull down his own boxers.
The time for talk is clearly over, because Steve grabs both their cocks in one hand, and the sensation is almost too much to handle. Danny is not proud of the sharp moan that escapes his mouth. When Steve starts stroking them, Danny bucks up, arches his back and presses his heels into the mattress in an attempt to retain some control.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep doing that,” Danny groans, hands clenching in the sheets. He doesn’t even care about what things will be like tomorrow, he doesn’t give a fuck that they might not have a future together, and even so, they are both busy people with a career that takes up a lot of time and might have them killed any day – if Steve will just keep doing that.
Danny can feel the tension start to build in the low of his stomach; it makes his toes curl in anticipation, and his hands reach desperately for Steve.
Steve’s breathing is short, harsh, and a lock of his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. Danny brushes it aside, tenderly, and brings Steve down for a crushing kiss, more teeth and tongue than lips.
Their noses brush together, and then Steve presses his forehead to Danny’s, locking eyes with him.
He can see the orgasm wash through Steve’s body; he can feel the trembles against his own skin. His gut clenches when Steve’s face scrunches up in an almost pained expression, and when Danny feels wetness against his stomach, for a second he really isn’t sure whose come it is.
Then, Steve shifts, and presses a thumb against the head of Danny’s still achingly hard cock. Danny hisses, and his whole body shudders as Steve renews his efforts. It only takes two breathless moments before Danny follows, the orgasm undoing the tension in his stomach, leaving him lax and washed-out under the heat and pressure of Steve’s weight.
They just lie there, trying to catch their breath, for a while, Steve’s head buried in the crook of Danny’s neck, and their legs pleasantly tangled together.
Then, without further ado, Danny sits up and pushes Steve off him.
There is a brief look of confusion on Steve’s face, before Danny looks down at the mess on his stomach and loudly states:
“I need a shower.”
Danny promptly rolls off the bed and reaches for the door. He pauses and looks back, at Steve sitting splayed in the bed, hair in a mess, and body slick with sweat – a truly decadent sight. Something unfurls in Danny’s stomach.
“You can join me if you like.”
The smile that spreads on Steve’s face makes Danny laugh, and he thinks, Yeah, sure, they can do this.
