a/n: Sequel to : "GIVE ME SOME SUGAR" / This can definitely be considered pre-slash, these guys are seriously comfortable with each other physically and pretty much implying anything and everything without a flinch.
Summary: Steve takes Danny to the beach. Danny thought he need only be worried about sharks and rip currents, but his search should have been a little more… transparent.
Side Note: I would just like to point out that I don't know anything about surfing, I make no claim of being an expert or even an amateur. I've never been on a board before, never thought about it (I'm totally too chicken), plus the fact that I don't know how to swim. So, what little there is in the story below, I got off the internet. It like the H-3 all over again.
Enjoy!
HAWAII . FIVE - 0
Liquid Sugar
"Hurry up, Danny!" Steve hollered from downstairs. "What's taking so long? I'm sure your hair's fine!"
"Very funny!" Danny called back. He dug through his overnight bag on Steve's bed, but to no avail. "I can't find my shorts. And I'm not just going buck to the beach."
"Well… you could." Steve whispered in his ear, hands on his hips—just as suddenly as he'd been downstairs. "It will just be the two of us."
"Jesus, Steve!" Danny gasped. "Don't do that!" he elbowed the man in the ribs to get him off. "I have enough heart-stopping moments at work, this is supposed to be a break." He smoothed a hand down his tee-clad chest, in a rote move towards his usual worn tie as he exhaled to smooth out his ruffled feathers. "Now help me find my shorts so we can go already."
Steve heaved a very put upon sigh and sat on the edge of the bed, taking Danny's disorganized duffle into his lap. "I don't know how you can find anything in this,"
"It didn't start like that!" he protested, running a hand over his hair (which was perfect and had been ready for public viewing since he stepped out of the shower this morning, thank you very much!). The only ones allowed to witness his bed-head were his Neanderthal and his Monkey. "I know I packed them yesterday before I came over. I was sure I saw them in there before bed," he grumbled. "Could I have left them at my apartment?" he wondered, but shook his head. He was positive he had packed them.
Steve kept his attention decidedly on the bag as Danny went through his self work through. "Well." He zipped the bag and tossed it back on the bed. "You can just borrow a pair of mine!" Steve said way too eagerly.
Danny gave him a squinty-eyed suspicious stare as he hopped over to his dresser and pulled out a spare pare of trunks with flare.
"Here." He held them out with a smile.
"Are you screwing with me?" Danny wondered, taking them and inspecting the design. "Pineapples?"
Steve gave his Oblivious Face. "What's wrong with them?"
"Pineapples, Steven." Danny repeated. "And beside, I don't think I've ever seen you wear this. Actually, for fact I know you've never worn these. I know your entire wardrobe! It's not like you mix it up."
"You can't know my entire wardrobe." He scoffed.
"Remember when you stole my Newark P.D. mug? Yeah. I went through this entire place," he twirled a finger. "I know."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Those wretched jean shorts aren't proper swimwear for the water and surfing. They retain water, they drag, they're restricting-"
"Oh, my god!" Danny pointed an accusing finger at him with realization. "You took them, didn't you?!"
"So what if I did?" he crossed his arms over his tank-clad chest defiantly. He didn't even attempt an evasion and denial. "You'll never find them." He rose his chin. "That's what you get for taking a thirty-minute shower. Which is just a waste because you're basically just hopping from the shower into the ocean."
"Those are my only pair of shorts, Steve!" Danny protested, his fist clenching the pineapple trunks. "If you trashed them, I swear-!"
"Danny. Listen." Steve stepped forwards at his own ristk and placed both hands heavily on his best-friend's shoulders. "I had a real struggle with it, but it all came down to it being an ethical decision on my part."
"Ethical he says. Ethical? What are you even trying to imply?" Danny demanded. "No. No." He shook his head. "What is unethical is you going through my bag, snatching my shorts, and doing god knows what with them!" he waved his hands.
"I had to." Steve insisted, dropping his hands. "For appearance sake."
"Appearance sa-" Danny sputtered. "I thought you said this was some 'private beach'?" he air quoted.
"It is." He agreed.
"So what's the problem?" he asked. "It's only going to be the two of us. You and me. And I hardly have to look at myself."
"Yes." He nodded. "And I-"
"Hey!" Danny stopped him right there before he had the chance to put his foot in it. "I look great in those shorts and you know it. Don't even try and say otherwise."
"I agree. And that's why I didn't trash them."
"Where are they then?" he repeated petulantly.
Steve smiled at him. "I'll give them back to you... later. Now, stop wasting the morning away and put these on already." He pushed the pineapple trunks in his hand against the blond's chest.
But Danny refused stubbornly. "I'm not wearing these. Give me something else."
"Fine," he heaved a sigh. He went back to the dresser. "I don't know why you can't just wear those. You like pineapple just fine when it's not on pizza."
Danny shuddered at just the mention. "They'll look ridiculous on me. Just give me something... mellower."
Mellower, Steve mouthed to himself, sorting through his swim trunks. "For the record, I got those specifically because they wouldn't look ridiculous on you, Danno." It was a compliment/guilt trip/admittance all rolled into one—and it worked like a SEAL's best laid Smooth Dog!
Danny gave a soft sigh. "I'll wear these here the next time—when I bring Grace. Promise," he said in way of apology and thanks for the gift. "But just give me one of yours for today. Come on, you know you love it when I wear your clothes," he teased. "It goes well with your..." he waved his free hand, "Possessive disposition."
Steve snorted. "Always so thoughtful, Danno."
"That's me." He agreed.
"Alright. Here," Steve turned to him and held out a pair of faded red trunks. "These should do, but they definitely won't fit as well as the pineapples."
"I'll take them!" he switched trunks with the man. "These'll be fine."
Steve put the pineapple trunks back in the drawer and closed it. "Get a move on, partner!"
"Don't 'Commander' at me." Danny told him.
"Just friendly encouragement." He countered—and clapped Danny on the ass as he passed towards the en suite.
"Hey!" Danny spun around with a kick, but Steve pranced out of reach with a laugh and out the bedroom door.
"I'll be waiting downstairs!" he called back.
Danny huffed and shook his head. He went into the bathroom, used the toilet one last time, and changed into the faded red swim trunks. He tugged a little dubiously at the loose waist as he trotted down the stairs, but was utterly distracted as his nose caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee. There was a steaming cup waiting for him on the island as Steve poured the rest of the pot into a couple Thermoses.
"Mmm." Danny moaned into his mug.
"I wonder..." he murmured mischievously.
"Don't ruin it with suggestive themes," Danny told him. "Just leave us be," and he went back to suckling the delicious caffeine. He watched with a mixed expression as Steve put sugar in one Thermos, and butter in the other before he screwed the caps in and then clipped the cups overtop. "How are we supposed to know which is which?" he asked, noticing that they looked exactly the same.
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure." Steve mused. "And who knows, I might convert you along the way."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Not a chance. Butter in coffee? No way, McGarrett. That ever happens and I'll be eating Hawaiian pizza too."
Steve sighed heavily at the loss. "While you were deciding what to wear," he teased. "I packed the truck."
"We could already be out the door if you hadn't screwed with my wardrobe." Danny countered, rinsing out his empty cup.
"Speaking of..." he checked Danny out as they left the kitchen. "You look good in red, Danno."
Danny snorted and took the Thermoses from Steve at the front door as the man double checked the doors to the lanai and the side door out his father's office. He strapped on a pair of sandals; yes, he owned a pair (Hell was a little chilly). It took two seconds for Steve to slip on his slippahs as the locals called them. Danny just thought that they were a twisted ankle or broken neck waiting to happen.
Steve set the alarm and locked the front door. Of course, Steve was driving. Not that Danny even knew exactly where they were going or that Steve ever let him drive his Silverado anyways. He belted up and set the Thermoses upright in the passenger foot well by the seat so they wouldn't get knocked over.
"You know," he started.
"Uh-oh." Steve intoned as he reversed from his driveway and turned down the street.
"It's not very safe to drive in flip-flops." Danny pointed out easily. "It's like women driving in heels. The toe strap could break, it could slip off your foot and get caught under the peddle."
"I'm not wearing heels, though."
Danny sputtered in laughter and Steve smiled. "The last thing you need is heels, babe. But I wouldn't mind seeing just to see."
"You first, buddy."
"Oh, you'd let me go first? Now that's a first." He remarked.
"I let you go first," he protested, glancing to see a look on his partner's face at the stop sign. "Sometimes. Right?"
"Oh, let me think." He got mock thoughtful. "I mean, there was that one time, two months ago. When we cleared that house. That was totally empty as we suspected. Yeah, that's it. I can't think of another example."
"Huh." He said over the steering wheel.
"Huh." Danny reiterated. "Yeah. It's that deeply ingrained need you have to throw yourself face first into the situation... first."
"Gun-first," Steve corrected.
"You're not making it any better," Danny deadpanned. "So... why are we going to this 'private beach' instead of just staying home? Because, in case it has escaped your SuperSEAL Senses, you have a beach in the backyard." He waved a hand behind him. "We definitely wouldn't of had to go through all this effort to pack and drive."
"Why do you keep saying it with quotation marks?" he wondered. "I can hear it plainly in your voice."
"Yeah, well. I'm pretty dubious about it."
"You're dubious?" he repeated.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Where did this sudden 'private beach' come from? Where exactly are you taking me?"
"Mamo." Steve said. "A friend of a friend's piece that he lends out cheap."
"Alright." He finally relented on the authenticity of the existence of the private beach. It was legit if Mamo said it was. "I still don't get why we didn't just stay home?"
"Come on! Don't you want to get out of the kiddie pool?" he pulled through a busy intersection in a trail of other vehicles whose occupants probably had the same idea for their weekend.
"What do you mean?"
"My backyard's great for taking a swim, a safe place for Grace to play without worry. But it doesn't get waves. It's terrible for surfing, Danny. Real surfing. Don't you want to catch a wave?"
"It sounds pretty wavy at night to me." Danny pointed out. "But... did you really have to refer to it as 'the kiddie pool'?"
"You're ready for the deep end, Danno." Steve told him sincerely. "I called Kono and she agreed. You gotta put yourself out there otherwise nothing's going to change."
Danny had tentatively asked Kono for some surfing lessons a while back. It was getting harder and harder to field Grace's request to learn how to surf. So he gave in under coercion of puppy-eyes. Steve, of course, found out because he had ninja/spy DNA or something. So when she got the blond from the sand and into the water, she more than gleefully shoved Danny over to Steve's tutelage. He knew she wouldn't have done it if she wasn't confident in Steve's own surfing and teaching skills on the subject, so Danny didn't complain—much. Just another thing that Steve had control over in his life, so it wasn't like it was shocking or new.
"I obviously have no other choice. I have no idea where we are," he looked out the window at the passing unfamiliar roadside as Steve pulled off the highway and turned his way onto a dirt side road. "This is comforting," he said sarcastically, bracing his hand on the dash and his other grabbed at the brace-handle above his door. Steve, as usual, was driving crazily. The scenery flashed by too fast for the blond to even attempt to read the signs that were nothing more then a flash of bright colour to the background of the trees. He was sure they were important. "Don't you, oh, I don't know—want to slow down so we might actually survive to actually surf on this secret beach of yours? It's just one of those fantastical thoughts of mine, you know—where I live in the end."
"Don't worry, Danno." Steve comforted. "If we do crash into a tree, I'll brace you with my arm."
"Is that supposed to reassure me, you Neanderthal?" Danny sputtered. "I'm pretty sure that would hurt you more than it would help me. Just- keep both hands on the wheel, eyes on this hardly-a-road, don't break a flip-flop strap and we should arrive alive. Okay?"
"You got it!" and then a moment later Danny suddenly jolted against his seatbelt; the view outside was frozen, and the rumble of the truck engine absent.
"What happened?" Danny wondered at the abrupt halt; it was almost dizzying. "Are we still alive or did we crash so suddenly I didn't even realize it happened?"
"We're here." Steve patted his shoulder. He unbuckled and hopped from the truck, shutting the door.
"Oh." He looked around almost like a nervous child as he slid from the truck cabin. "This looks nice and remote. Where the hell are we, even?" he reached back into the truck for the Thermoses and his cell. He looked at the screen. "Great. Only one bar."
Steve let down the latch to the back of the truck and hopped into the bed. "Just like you said... there's no crowd to gawk when I fish your limp body from the water and give you mouth-to-mouth."
"Oh, please!" Danny scoffed. "You wish." He sat the Thermoses on the step-up. And rested the arm with his cell up along the side of the carriage, watching as Steve unhooked the bungee cords that had kept all their supplies from flying out of the bed at his radical driving. "With Kono as a teacher, you know I got some skills."
"Hey! What about me?" he protested.
"Oh. Yeah." He waved lethargic fingers. "You helped, too, I guess."
"I guess I should just be grateful to get any acknowledgement." He grumbled.
Steve handed over the couple coolers that they packed, and the beach bag from the security trunk behind the truck cabin. He hopped back out and pulled the two unstrapped surfboards towards himself. Both were his. The newer, was one he bought after he decided he was going to stay in Hawaii and run the Governor's Task Force. The older, beginner's board was one he'd found in the garage after one of his seasonal-cleaning moments where he'd focused on a single room of the rambling house and took to it with his Navy OCD. It was back from his days as a teen that his father had stowed away after he pack Mary and him away to the mainland; it had Danny's claim until he got one of his own.
Danny tucked his cell in the loose waistband of his borrowed trunk's, threw the pack of the beach bag strap over his shoulder, wedged the Thermoses under the red cooler's bar handle, and took either cooler in hand. Steve handled the surfboards. Danny followed Steve's sand slapping feet onto the private beach.
It looked like just any other beach strip Danny had ever seen, but for the lack of people. But if Steve said the waves were better here, who was the haole to argue? They'd just have to wait until they got on the water.
Steve planted the boards upright into the hot sand that had already found itself into Danny's sandals and coated between his toes. Danny dropped his load as Steve jogged back to the Silverado. By the time Steve returned with a beach canopy under one arm and two canvas chairs under the other, Danny had claimed what he deemed the perfect nexus; he smoothed out the sand and laid out the beach blanket.
"And there was shade!" Steve proclaimed, planting the pole into the sand center one end of the blanket on the opposite side facing the water and fanning the umbrella.
Danny chuffed in amusement and set up the chairs in the sand at either corner of the blanket under Steve's-made shade. The coolers joining in the shade, the Thermoses planted next to them. They were a well-oiled machine.
Danny unstrapped the Velcro from his sandals and kicked them off under his claimed chair, stepping onto the cool blanked. "Ahh." He flopped back into the chair, laid his head back, hands clasped at his middle with his eyes closed.
A throat was purposefully cleared. If he wasn't already in the shade, Danny knew there would be a tall shadow looming over him. "What do you thinking you're doing?" Steve questioned.
"Sitting." Danny answered. He opened his eyes and found Steve already striped on his flip-flops and loose tank. The three laparoscopic scars at his lower-right abdomen just above his trunk waistband were a pretty shade of pink from a couple months ago.
"We came here to surf, not lounge. Now get up. Come on," he smacked his partner's knee.
"Pushy-pushy." He complained. With an empty groan, Danny heaved himself back onto his feet. He stripped his tee and tossed it over the back of his chair, his cell joined in the arm cup holder and dug out the sunscreen from the beach bag. Steve waited impatiently, hands on his hips as Danny rubbed the protective lotion on his arms, chest, neck and face. "Get my back, babe?" he held out the tube to the brunette.
"You bet, buddy." His eyes crinkled. He took the tube and Danny turned his back. He squirted a two-shot dollop into his palm and pressed his hands together before he started to apply the sun block. He started at Danny's broad, expansive shoulders, kneading the flesh as he worked his way with the lotion downward.
Danny gave a little groaned, his chin falling forward. "Jesus Christ," Steve smirked. His fingertips dipped slightly under the loose waistband at the small of Danny's back as he rubbed it in. "Keep it PG back there, McGarrett." He mumbled.
Steve chuckled. "Done."
Danny exhaled, and stretched his arms stresslessly and loose overhead. "You've been holding out on me, babe. You want to get me into bed..." he left the sentence hanging.
"Oh, really?" Steve wondered interestingly.
Danny flashed his a mischievous smirk as he turned to his friend. "One more thing," Steve quirked an eyebrow. Danny reclaimed the sun block briefly, squirted some on his fingertip and tossed the tube back into the beach bag. Steve held still as Danny reached up and smeared it visibly on his nose. "Don't want you getting skin cancer or sunburn, do we?"
"Everywhere else? Meh. But the nose? No way!" he agreed mockingly.
Danny was already treading sand. "What are you standing around for?"
Steve followed Danny to the boards where the blond was already bent over, strapping on the Velcro cuff from his leash. Smirking, he clapped his ass just to irritate the blond, before he strapped his own cuff. When he straightened, Danny was staring at him. "Yes?" he asked innocently.
"Here." Danny held his hands out, palms up.
Steve's brow crinkled as he stared at them, and warily started to reached for them with his own. Danny's hands flashed in a blur in from some of his own latent ninja DNA and Steve hissed at the sudden, sharp sting on his knuckles. "A-"
"That'll teach you to be grabby, McGarrett." Danny scolded superiorly. "Now move," he pointed strictly to the water.
With an expression of a rebuked child, he took up his board and started for the water. Danny fought the smirk as he followed the tall man. The damp wet sand left on the shore from the constant crashing and receding waves felt great squishing between his toes in comparison to the hot, graining sand of the beach. The water was even better as it splashed against his legs, and it wasn't long before it was at his waist, the pull of the waves tugging at his loose trunks.
He and Steve took to their boards almost simultaneously and began paddling out. They easily paddled over the whitebreak of the smaller waves closer to shore, warming their muscles. They duck dived under the crashing waves until they drew up to the line-up; beyond the point of the breaks.
As they waited for the swell they caught their breaths in the sitting position. And it wasn't long before they caught each other's eye and were racing with the swelling wave, paddling to get first claim.
Steve was, of course, right about the waves. Danny couldn't remember seeing waves like these at Steve's. And with just the two of them, Danny didn't have to worry or be self-conscious of his technique that was still in it's toddler stages. They didn't have to wait in a pecking order for a wave.
It was all about having fun. Carving through a wave. Wiping out. Joking and laughing. There wasn't worry about sharks or boat-jackers.
...
They'd breaked for lunch and relaxed under the shaded umbrella to digest their packed lunch, a light beer each, and the Thermosed coffee that was still mostly hot than it was cold.
Danny took the first Thermos, unclipped the cup, unscrewed the cap and sniffed the opening. He made a face and held it out to Steve. "This is yours,"
Steve took it. "You can tell just by sniffing?" he poured some into the cover-cup.
"I know tainted coffee went I smell it." Danny took the second Thermos and poured some coffee out into the cup and took a satisfied gulp. "It's an instinctual thing." Steve snorted into his own cup and Danny hid his smirk in his.
They packed the coolers and while Steve drained most of a Gatorade, Danny reapplied his sunscreen of course. With his luck, if he didn't, it would probably give him skin cancer like he'd warned Steve.
Steve tossed the bottle into the cooler, ready to get back on the waves after rehydrating, and straightened to find Danny strapping his sand-coated feet into his sandals. "Where are you going?"
"Don't worry, warden, I'm not trying to make an escape." Danny teased as he started across the sand, back towards the truck and the bordering clusters of banyan trees. "I need to go take a leak."
"Just go in the water," he said, putting on a proper application of the sunscreen this time around. He'd been in the sun long enough and didn't want to get sunburn.
Danny halted and turned at that. He held up a hand. "Hold on. Excuse me? I could have sworn you just told me to piss in the ocean." Steve just shrugged. "Do you know how dangerous that is? Skipping passed the multiple environmental issues it will definitely cause in the future... there's fish that swim up your urine-stream-"
"The candiru," Steve chuckled. "Those are only in the Amazon Basin, Danno."
"That's so not the point." His hand cut through the air. "That's how you get a urinary tract infection. And other than the fact that you're basically just swimming in your own pee-"
"Don't be so dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "The ocean's just a big toilet, Danny. Where do you think all ocean-dwelling animals go?"
"Great. Thanks for, uh, pointing that little tidbit out." Danny said sarcastically. "Now I'm never going back into the ocean ever again!" he threw up his hands. "Happy now?"
"Now you're just being melodramatic." He shook his head. "The reefs are just Mother Nature's natural water filters."
Danny palmed his forehead. "That's doesn't comfort me at all. So... I'm going to be a normal person and go pee on some trees and forget about this conversation. Alright? Good." He turned and stalked to the banyan trees.
When he returned, feeling better and definitely ready for more surfing, Steve was already standing hip deep in the surf waiting for him, surfboard bobbing at the side. Danny discarded his sandals and grabbed his board, put on the leash and made for the water.
"You wade in waist-deep and let it go," Steve said, spreading his arms. "And it just gets swept away!" he gave a wicked grin.
"What?" he questioned, and then it hit him what Steve was actually intimating. "EUGH!" Danny leapt back, out of reach of the shored waves, nearly tripping over the leash attached around his ankle. "Are you going right now?!"
"Of course not! I was just explaining the process," but there was that gleam in his hazel-grey eyes that made him look crazy and Danny was never quite sure if he was telling the truth or just screwing with him—either way, Steve always managed to mess with him at some stage.
Danny gave him a disturbed expression, and he started to back away from his partner down the shore, putting some distance between them before he entered the water.
"Really?" Steve called.
"You can keep your bathroom and pee to yourself, McGarrett." Danny said.
"Danny! I'm not going."
"Yeah, well." Danny grimaced. "How am I supposed to actually know that? Every time you're waist-deep I'm just going to safely assume and give you a wide breadth, so..." he got on his board and started to paddle.
"Oh, come on!" Steve paddled after him. He refused to keep the distance.
...
Danny popped out of the water, throwing his head back and whipping his hair out of his face. Steve really didn't know the meaning of personal space—literally. He reached forward, grabbed the rail of his board and pulled it towards himself. Still in the water, he propped his arms on the face and caught his breath.
He didn't immediately see Steve as he usually did, and just as his heart started up with a panic, something bumped his back and he jolted. "Oh!" he twisted, his hand coming down on Steve's surfboard, steadying it in the water. He chuckled nervously to himself. "Steve? Seriously, buddy," he called out, "Stop playing around!" there was no way that a wave took out Steve McGarrett, SEAL. It was as unfathomable as Danny Williams eating pineapple and ham on pizza.
He pulled the listless black leash from the water and it came without weight or resistance. The cuff at the end was empty, no McGarrett attached. That did not bode well for his anxiety, which was climbing again after the scare. He searched, but couldn't see anything beyond the swell of waves, and the white crash of those closer to shore. Releasing Steve's board, he quickly lifted himself onto his, undoing his own leash as it caught up in the fin with a rip of Velcro. He popped-up, the board wobbling underfoot as the water continuously bobbed and bucked underfoot. "Steve!" he shouted. His hands cupped around his eyes to try and block the glare of the sun. "Ste-!"
His board suddenly flipped unnaturally, throwing him into the ocean with a shout. He instantly regained his bearings and surged to the surface with a gasp. He only had time to notice a distance between himself and their boards, before his ankle was grabbed and he was yanked back underwater by something.
His subconscious instantly recognized the calloused hands grasping at him, but his flight or fight instinct took over at the sudden distress. He struggled against those same (tickling?) hands, twisting in the grasp. He got his first glimpse of Steve through the bubbles of disturbed water and he looked just as unhinged as usual. Danny kicked out, his feet planting on solid flesh and he pushed, casting himself from his partner's hold, feeling Steve's finger's scraping at his hips—and then he was bursting to the surface, gasping and hacking water for breath.
Danny shoved the dripping strands of hair from his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, and witness Steve emerge out of the wateras calmly as an hippopotamus, not even out of breath—he even went as far as to snort water out of his nose.
"Are you insane? What is wrong with you? Trying to drown me?" Danny started even before he had his full breath back, panting.
Steve rolled his eyes. "You weren't going to drown. I had the whole thing under control."
"You had this whole thing under control?" Danny demanded, his arm flying up and flinging water. "You were gone, Steve. I couldn't find you. I thought you drowned!"
"Me?" Steve wondered with a grin. "I'm a seal in the water. Seal's don't drown."
"A seal brain, maybe." Danny complained with a growl. "That's why you get me into so much trouble all the time."
"Stop exaggerating," Steve treaded water, slowly working his way backwards towards their bobbing and knocking boards; Danny was just trying to swallow his heart back into his chest. "It's just a bit of fun."
"A bit of fun, he says? A bit of fun!" he cursed the man. "Are you a twelve-year-old?"
"Cast aside your earthly wear, Danno. You're free. There's no leash to tie you down. Let yourself go. Let the water in, let it guide you." He straddled his board, pulling on the leash of Danny's.
"Do you have brain damage? What are you talking about?"
Steve smirked. "Don't you feel different, Danno, after that experience?"
"Yeah," Danny agreed snidely. "Like I could swim over there and drown you myself!" There was that twinkle in the man's hazel-grey eyes that always put the detective on alert—something was going to go down and it was most definitely going to be at his expense.
"I mean... don't you feel an absence of something?" he wheedled.
"What nonsense are you talking about? Never mind. I really am coming over there to kill you myself." Danny told him. "I can't wait for the real Aqua Man to receive the Morse code I've been sending out, or for that fateful bullet to bite you. I gotta do it." He started to swim towards his partner, feeling no resistance pulling at his hips.
"Look at that stroke!" Steve complimented, even as he started paddling, turning his board (dragging Danny's along) into the crest of the building wave behind him. "You're welcome! Got rid of all that unneeded weight for you!" and he popped up, his stance perfect as he caught the wave—and he brandished Danny's borrowed faded red trunks in the air like a flag of freedom.
Danny's eyes bulged, stopping mid stroke. "What...?" he reached down, his fingers finding only flesh instead of his swim trunks. "Steve! You took my-! Give them back!" he shouted, and started to breaststroke, really going for it now. But Steve was already too far ahead, propelled by the wave and his board, his own board tugging along like a turncoat.
"STEVEN!" he screamed in fury. The last thing he heard was Steve's laugher before the wave crashed against him in a whitewash, and he was enveloped in whirling water.
When Danny finally emerged, the waves had definitely washed him closer to the beach. He spotted Steve not too far from their camp, already dragging their boards to shore. With a few more strokes, his toes dug into the wet sand floor underfoot.
He was so tunnel vision on his anger that it wasn't until the water lapped at his lower-navel that he realized that he was about to stalk onto the beach after Steve in the nude. Exclaiming, he quickly cupped himself and threw himself back into the cover of the ocean.
Steve chuckled from the beach at his sudden turnaround. "What's the matter, Danno?" he called. "Missing something?"
"Where are they?" Danny demanded angrily when he didn't notice them in Steve's possession any longer. "What did you do with them!"
"Um..." Steve looked at his hands as if surprised to see them empty. "I must have lost them when I was paddling in." He smirked.
"What?!"
"It's fine. It's fine." He patted the air in an infuriating manner. "Worst case... you wear a towel home."
"Steve!"
Steve stepped into the shore, smile teasing his lips, his hands a visor at his brow as he searched the water for something that wasn't blue. "There!" he pointed. "Due North-East of you, 10 meters."
Danny turned, following the directional indicator by his partner, squinting. All he saw was blue, but a second later he saw a flash of pale red tumbling and pirouetting in a crashing wave, only to be picked back up. He started swimming for it. He managed to grab hold of the clump of material as the wave was trying to drag it back again.
Pushing up from the sand, Danny took a breath before the wave came crashing and he was surrounded by water. He let the water do the work of pushing him towards the shore as he brought his knees almost to his chest, and attempted to shove his feet into the uncooperative material.
When he resurfaced again, he managed to get the trunks back on, and stumbled to his feet, the water shoving at his thighs. His blue-gaze instantly locked onto Steve.
"This private beach is going to be your grave. There are no witnesses to stop me. And when I'm done... I'm going to drive your truck!" he started to slog through the shallow water that felt like overhaul of snow, back towards his partner.
Steve very rightly started to look nervous, starting to back away in trepidation, before Danny suddenly halted, the water swirling around his shins, and gave a pained hissed.
"D-"
"God! What the hell?" he exclaimed, at the suddenly tingling burning sensation enveloping the inside of his right thigh. Steve jolted at the abrupt shout. "What did you do?!" he stumbled onto the sand.
"What are you talking about?" Steve asked in true confusion.
"Fuck!" Danny suddenly shoved his hand into the loose waistband of the trunk's, feeling around.
"What are you-"
His fingers touched something squishy that definitely wasn't a part of himself. "There's something in here!"
Steve's eyes widened. "Wait! Do-" he rushed forward.
Without thought, just instinct, Danny grabbed it and yanked. With a grunt as the pain flared as he encountered a brief resistance as it felt like it tore at his skin, stinging his hand, he threw it roughly into the sand. It almost made a splat! sound and looked like a whale's snotty booger. "What the hell is that?!" he cried out.
Steve cringed the instant he saw it in the sand. "Shit. It's a jellyfish, Danno."
"It was in my trunk's!" he shook his hand, but it seemed to do nothing for the sting.
Steve quickly stilled his hand, looking at his palm. There was a welt starting to raise from the edge of Danny's palm and curve across his the inside of his wrist where one of the tentacles must have caught him when he yanked the jelly out.
"It burns like a bitch!" He was antsy. He felt like he needed to move, but he also knew it wasn't going to be helpful. This was definitely feeling worse than that time he was Tasered.
Steve took another look at the blob in the sand, and took in the box-like detail of the bell. "It's looks like a box jellyfish." Luckily, its bell only looked the size of a golf ball.
"Does that matter?" he hissed distractedly at the fire on his thigh, tugging at the clinging material from his thigh.
"The box jellyfish around O'ahu aren't as potently venomous as the Australian box jelly." He mumbled to himself, drawing up the forgotten tidbit of information as he started to lead Danny back towards the blanket.
He paled. "Potent? Venom!" Danny's voice rose, his chest heaving as he started to panic.
"I said not. You're freaking yourself out," Steve told him calmly. "Now take off the trunks, I need to see."
"Excuse me? Now is not the time for come-on's, Steve!" Danny growled, yanking his hand back.
"It's not a come-on, Danny!" he scoffed. "You pulled it out of your trunks. It stung you somewhere down there, too. Come on. I need to see what I'm dealing with." He dropped to his knees on the blanket and grabbed the beach bag from under the canvas chair. "There's no time for modesty now, Danno."
"God." Danny groaned in humiliation. But he started to push his sodden trunks down his hips; the damn wet material clinging to him. "A little help here?" he wondered, covering his junk with his left hand.
Steve kept his gaze polite and peeled the trunks the rest of the way off. He held up one of the towels from the beach bag open and partially wrapped it around Danny's hips so he could grasp it closed in the back. Danny carefully shifted the towel so the split was on his right side, and shifted the material around so his crotch was covered and he bared his thigh for Steve's inspection with a wince and hiss.
Steve put a steadying hand on his friend's knee and grimaced at the reddened and welted sight that concentrated mostly on the inside of his thigh, an inch or so from the crease of his thigh at his groin.
"Agh." Danny cringed, looking down at it. It almost looked like one of Grace's drawings from when she was two and it was just scribbles—except it was ugly, welted, and looked like he was coming down with some contagious disease. "That doesn't look good."
"I'll be right back." Steve said, releasing his knee and standing.
"What? Where are you going?" he asked frantically.
"I saw a vinegar post near the truck," Steve told him. "I'll just be a sec."
"Vinegar?" he demanded. "What-"
"It'll neutralize the venom."
"You don't have any in the truck?" Danny questioned absurdly.
"Why would I have vinegar in the truck?" he took off towards the truck.
"In case something like this happened!" he cut a sharp hand at his thigh. He threw up his hand, "Because you're a Boy Scout! Whatever happened to always-be-prepared?!" he yelled after him.
He looked back at the welts from the disappearance of his partner. "Vinegar post?" he muttered to himself. He knew those signs were important! Curse Steve and his erratic driving.
"Ah!" he snatched his phone form the cup holder in his chair and quickly searched vinegar and jellyfish for distraction and confirmation. It appeared that it did neutralize the jellyfish sting; who would have though putting a condiment on a wound would be a professional suggestion?
He gritted his teeth as he carefully sat himself on the edge of the chair with but his left butt cheek, putting his cell back from his lightly trembling hand. Steve was only gone hardly two minutes, but it felt like two hours! The pain hadn't dissipated, but intensified. His leg felt on fire! and he fought the want to rub at.
"What took you so long!" Danny demanded as Steve skidded to a halt on the blanket on his knees and out of breath. "Did you get it? Where is it?" all the blond saw was the first aid kit from the truck.
"Bad news-" he started.
"No!" Danny interrupted. "You don't bad-news me, Steve. Not now."
"There was vinegar at the post-"
"That doesn't sound like bad news to me."
"-but the box was broken into and it looked like some animals got into it. There was some sort of nest in there."
"Friggin nature!" Danny cursed. "You said this beach had Mamo's seal of approval—it's obviously not up to code. You lied to my face, didn't you?"
"Now is not the time for that, Danny!" Steve clearly used the urgency of the situation to step aside of Danny's accusation and following rant.
"OK." Danny inhaled deeply through his nose. "So, what... what are we supposed to do if we don't have vinegar?" he wiped the sweat from his face with a drag of his left hand.
"You're not going to like it." Steve told him.
"I don't like a lot of things," Danny agreed. "But this hurts so much right now, I think I'm pretty much up for anything."
"Alright." He took a breath. "Urine. After vinegar, that's the next best thing to deactivate the stinging cells and remove any tentacle pieces that are still on your skin safely."
"That- that- that's just a myth. That's not a real thing!" Danny shook his head in rapid denial. But Steve's expression was stone-serious; there was not a single morsel of humour and joking in it. "No way." He shook his head again for good measure.
"Look." Steve put a reassuring hand on Danny's left knee, stilling the jiggling. "I've been stung by jellyfish before and there wasn't vinegar at hand. Urine doesn't work as good, but it's better than nothing. It'll ease the stinging until we can actually get vinegar. Trust me."
"This is the universes ironic way of biting me in the ass," Danny muttered to himself. "I know it!" he sighed, his eyes squeezed closed, he pinched the bridge of the his nose. Right now, he really was more than willing to pee on himself if he could even just quarter what was feeling like a persistent chemical burn. "The thing is," he uttered through gritted teeth in self-recrimination. "I don't have to pee right now. I went just before we went back into the water and that wasn't even a half-an-hour ago."
Steve exhaled in a soft puff. Danny looked up when he felt Steve take his hand back and found the man in the cooler? "If you're telling me there was vinegar in there the whole time!"
But Steve shook his head and picked out his almost finished bottle of Gatorade and dumped the contents onto the sand. He stepped from Danny, turned his back—and a moment later there was the distinct sound of liquid.
"What-?" Danny started, then his eyes bulged in realization. "Are you pissing in that bottle right now?"
"Don't freak-out, Danny." Steve told him equably.
"You tell someone not to freak-out and the unequivocal response is for them to start freaking out, Steven!" Danny told him ripe-ly. "And the only sickening conclusion I can come to of where you're trying to go with this, is that you think I'm gonna l-"
"We're going to have to use my urine." Steve agreed, turning back around, bottle in hand nearly full with pale yellow.
"WHAT?!" he squawked, even as he knew it was coming. He waved a warding hand. "Get away from me with that! I will go through the seven circles of hell with this pain rather than have you-"
"Danny. Danny!" Steve dropped down onto his knees in front of his partner, and the hand that wasn't holding the piss-bottle landed on the knee of Danny's injured leg. It was like a leaden weight, stilling his harmful act of trying climb over the top of the chair to get away. "The pain you're feeling right now? It's not going to get any better unless we do something to neutralize the stingers. They're just going to keep stinging, making it worse. You might go into shock if this keeps on and have a bad reaction to the venom. We're at least thirty from the nearest emergency room. If that was you want?" he commanded.
Danny was pretty sure that going to the emergency room for shock would be less personally humiliating. But... panting with a mixture of pain and helpless frustration through his teeth, Danny could only shake his head in none-verbal agreement.
Steve gave a firm nod. "Turn away if it helps." He suggested. And Danny did. His torso twisted around in the chair, almost hanging over the back of the canvas chair, his face buried in his arms. "I need your right hand," he said reluctantly.
"What?" he mumbled in confusion, trying to separate himself right now.
"The sting, Danno." He reminded gently.
Making a sound at the back of his throat, he ground his teeth and threw his right arm out to the brunette. Danny was a tense passive as Steve tucked the towel out of his way, the hand on the blond's knee widening it so he could get better access, and laid Danny's wrist facing up on his right thigh.
"Alright, Danno?"
"Just do it!" he barked, his voice muffled in his elbow. Humiliation burned his cheeks. Now, he really wished they'd been at a crowded beach like all the other poor suckers out there. This might never have happened, and if it did, vinegar would be getting poured on his wrist and thigh instead of Steve's-
The instant the warm liquid touched his skin, he felt even worse pain than what it was before. He jerked away instinctively, both equal parts pain and knowing what it was, or at least tried to. He bit off a moan of pain. Steve's hand was like a steel-trap as he gripped his knee and continued to pour his urine over his wrist and the inside of his thigh.
"Fuck! That isn't making it feel better!"
Danny groaned through gritted teeth, feeling his ears pop at the pressure. He gagged into his elbow, able to feel the warmth of the liquid. The way it ran along the back of his thigh, being generous in its direction and dripping from the curve of his right buttock and trailing down his calf, soaking into the beach blanket even after the bottle emptied.
Not even pausing at the thought, Steve put his hand in Danny's kinked palm on top of his thigh, his finger-knuckles locked. He'd put his hand in much worse things; fluid from his own body wasn't much of a concern.
Without thinking too much into, Danny gripped his best-friend's hand. Riding through the pain with his body twisted, mentally attempting to diffuse his pain through Steve's hand in his.
It was nearly ten minutes after that that the pain seemed to have eased enough that Danny believed it safe to move. The twisted position definitely wasn't going to do his back any favours.
"Better?" Steve murmured, when he caught sight of Danny's blues looking back at him. The blond just gave a mute nod against his arm, and unclenched his fingers from Steve's hand. Steve took his hand back. "I'm going to go over it and remove any remaining stings, alright?" a silent nod again. Steve turned to the first aid kit and opened a sanitary wipe, cleaning his hand before he put on a pair of latex gloves to prevent himself from getting stung as well.
Danny's brow quirked as he saw Steve pick out his wallet. It was a rare occurrence to see the thing under normal circumstance; like a unicorn sighting. But to see it now, here? Steve took out a card and paused when he turned back to his partner and saw the look on the blond's face.
"What?" he wondered, bemused.
"You have a credit card?" Danny was incredulous, speaking for the first time since the pouring.
"It's my driver's license," Steve said drily.
"Someone actually gave you a driver's license?" Danny tried again, fighting the laugh at Steve's expression.
"I'll have you know that I am properly licensed by the United States Department of Motor Vehicles,"
"If it's good enough for the Army... I suppose it should do in the rest of civilized society."
"I'm going to scrape your sting with this now," Steve told him, holding up the card. "And derive no pleasure from it whatsoever."
"I don't believe you,"
"Good. Because I was being ironic." He took Danny's wrist, positioned his license and scraped the flat edge over the tentacle welt in a steady concise movement. Danny grimaced at the reflare of pain that it briefly brought, but it was just an afterthought as Steve once again grasped his right knee to stabilize his taut leg.
Danny's right hand clenched into an empty fist, and his left fingers dug into the thick canvas material of the arm, making his nails ache with the pressure. "Do it!" Steve scrapped his card over the sting cluster on the inside of Danny's thigh—several times! "Mmm!" he whimpered behind tightly pursed lips.
"There. Done." Steve asked, "Do you want another splash?"
Danny must have squeezed his eyes shut during sometime and he hadn't even realized that Steve was done scraping—like it was a windshield covered in ice. The flare-up was not at all as fun as his wrist had been. It had felt like sandpaper scraped across his tender flesh.
"There's more?!" he exclaimed, seeing Steve hold up the Gatorade bottle, yellow splashing around at the bottom.
Steve shrugged. "Guess I really had to go."
"Sure. Whatever." Danny waved a careless hand in defeat of any remaining self-respect. "Throw it on there! Who cares. You peed on my once, what's twice?" he slumped back into the canvas chair, his right leg extended over Steve's bent knee.
"I didn't pee on you. I poured my pee on you." He demonstrated by doing just that, emptying the rest of his urine over the inside of Danny's thigh. It was cold now, which helped less. "There's a difference."
"No. No, there isn't. It's was still your pee and it is still on me. You peed on me! There is no in between." He flapped his hand. "It happened as much as I wish it didn't. And we are never," he hand sliced definitively through the air between them, "Telling anyone about it."
Steve gave him a grin full of teeth. "Just marking my territory." He rocked back onto his heels as Danny started to drip on him.
"I am a person, Steven. Not some piece of land. This isn't the times of your Neanderthal past-life where you own your wife." He told him—quickly shuttling passed the 'wife' reference at Steve's twinkling eyes. "And I thought I trained enough of that animal out of you to at least make you domesticated."
"It's just a little insurance." He whispered.
Danny heaved a sigh. "I get that in that hindbrain of yours, you think someone's going to come along and steal me away," he petted the back of Steve's head, "but you know it's Gracie and you and that's it. I honestly don't know what I have to do to make it stay in that thick goofy skull of yours." He poked it in implication. Steve looked like he was about to say something that was probably really stupid, so Danny helped him save face by continuing: "Now..." He heaved himself onto it feet, the towel falling back around his thighs modestly. Steve was forced to crane his neck to look up at him. "You get to pack all this shit up," he twirled his finger around. "Injured man here." Finger to his chest. "Then drive me home. And pick up some vinegar while I shower the piss off."
"That's not going to help," Steve told him.
Danny stopped. "What do you mean?"
"The urine already deactivated the nematocyst to stop them from releasing anymore venom. Putting vinegar on the sting now won't do anything." Steve explained as he started to pack up the first aid kit and beach bag. "You have to go back into the water to rinse anything that might have been left behind from the card."
"What? I'm not going back in there!" he pointed at the water. "Just give me a bottle of water." He held out his hand.
But Steve denied him, blocking his reach. "It has to be salt water."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No. Now, go." He returned to packing up their beach camp.
Danny growled under his breath, his mouth scrunched. But he turned and stalked stiffly through the sand and back to the shore. Muttering to himself; he just got peed on—he had someone else's urine coating his skin. Steve's urine. He's had Steve's blood, sweat, tears, even saliva (the man drooled when he slept) on him at some point; he just never thought it would his best-friend's piss would be added to the list.
He stepped into the wet sand, quietly cursing the water and its invisible monsters. He didn't go further than the water splashing at his shins before he gathered the towel around his hips and squatted. Tucking the towel into place between his crotch and stomach, he balanced on his left leg, and stretched out his right. Right hand planted in the sand as well, he let the waves crash over his stings.
All he knew in this moment, was that this would never have happened to him back in New Jersey! And he really wanted a shower.
Worst case granted; he was going home in a towel.
0 - xH5Ox - 0
"I totally figured it out!" Steve chirped from above his head happily.
Danny jolted a little, coming back to the present far too fast for all the time it took him to stop himself from thinking back on the whole pee-thing. Going 'home' had meant Steve's, of course. It definitely helped that Steve's shower was 90% better than his own (the 10% was the fact that he actually had a functioning one in his apartment this time around). He broke his usual limit of thirty-five in the shower with an extension as he washed thoroughly.
The sun was going down and it was getting there in time of supper, but Danny had finally settled down and didn't want much to get up. He was pretty comfy despite himself, on the couch with Steve sitting at the end of the couch with his back against the arm; Danny between his sweats-clad legs, shoulders in his lap, his tee-covered lower-stomach a pillow. Danny had his right calf propped onto the opposing arm, his left knee bent comfortably under the space, his barefoot tucked under Steve's stretched leg. Clad in a light sweater and a pair of boxers, the right leg tucked up so it didn't rub and irritate the jellyfish sting.
"Proud of you." Danny told him. "Found out what, exactly, babe?"
"My habitual need to claim and mark my territory."
"Still a person down here," he was reminded.
"Sure, sure." He played lightly with Danny's loose blond hair. "But as I was saying..."
"Go on." Danny encourage, making the standard gesture with his hand before he dropped it back onto his stomach.
"You should get a tattoo," he said. "Of my name."
Danny's response was not immediate, his quiet brain was trying to start itself back up to its usual calibre of fluid as he processed exactly what Steve had declared so glibly.
It registered with an amazed sputter. "Excuse me?!" He struggled for a moment to get himself up but his body didn't seem to want to go on those orders, and fell right back into Steve's stupidly comfortable lap. An insane SEAL shouldn't be logistically comfortable to snuggle with! "Why the hell would I-!"
"Yeah." Danny could feel the rapid nod. "Get a tattoo. That way," he reasoned, "It'll be self-explanatory and in your words: I won't have to act like such a Neanderthal." He sounded so proud of this flawless idea, but Danny's brain was kicking at full-capacity again and he saw—very clearly.
"I don't think it would be very self-explanatory," Danny countered as if he were taking this at all seriously. "The only people who might understand would be our closest friends—meaning Chin and Kono."
But Steve was stuck on the idea. He upped the anti, "Matching tattoos!"
"Matching, he says." Danny uttered in wonderment to himself. "Why are you acting so insane right now? Was peeing on me not enough?"
"While, yes, urination in a very ultimate way of a mammal marking its territory," Steve agreed, stroking his fingers of into Danny's hair now, like this was a rational conversation, "It fades overtime and I don't see you letting me do that again."
"Letting you?" Danny repeated. "Let's make this very clear, buddy," he held up a poignant finger, "I made the choice purely out of desperation."
"Mm-hmm," Steve murmured agreement. "The point stands-"
"My point."
"Yes. This option would allow for no more urination. Unless, of course, you get stung again."
"Yeah, well." Danny immediately spoke up to the opinion. "Every beach visit in the future is going to include a thing of vinegar packed in right next to the sunscreen. It is now a must-have on any beach venture!" he declared with finality.
Steve's chuckle rumbled his belly. "Very smart."
"Now, back onto this whole 'tattoo-thing,'" the air quotes were back. "And where exactly are you thinking I should get this tattoo, hm? Because the only people that would see it were women I'd be sleeping with. And then would come the awkward question of why the hell I have my friend's name tattooed on my ass!"
"It wouldn't have to be on your ass." Steve assured him. "Don't make it weird."
"I was using hyperbole to make a point, Steven." Danny said. He scoffed and made an encompassing gesture, "And that's the part that makes this whole suggestion weird?" he didn't let the man answer the rhetorical question. "So no one is ever going to see this 'ownership,'" he did quotation-fingers, "of yours. Not unless you think I'd get it inked on my forehead, and that would never happen!"
"It doesn't have to be your forehead," he pouted. "Just somewhere visible."
"Oh," he gave a sarcastic chuff. "Is that all?"
"And what if I wanted to get a tattoo?" Steve returned snidely. "You couldn't stop me. I'd just put it somewhere you'd never find."
"Oh, I would find it." Danny assured him. "And if the day comes when I wake up and find 'Danno' on any part of this golden skin of yours," he warned, "I will go into that kitchen, get your biggest, sharpest knife and I won't be carving no turkey! Let's be clear on that."
Steve sighed, hands dropping glumly from his golden hair. "You're being completely unfair!"
"No matching tattoos, Steven!" Danny repeated. He reached back with a pocking finger, blindly prodding his friend's glum cheek. "Never gonna happen, understand me? Huh?"
In an act of recklessness and gleam in his eyes, Steve turned his face and bit Danny's poking finger.
"Ow!" Danny exclaimed, pushing back with his head in Steve's gut and his other hand flailing back, smacking Steve. Steve released his finger with a shark grin at Danny's upside-down glare. "You bit me, you animal!" he rubbed his finger, able to discern teeth-marks. "You're like a dog turned against his owner!"
Steve hunched over and buried his face in Danny neck, as the blond rubbed at his sore finger, his nose and mouth pressed against the warm flesh, able to feel the thrum of his pulse. "Maybe I'll just bite you and mark you like that." Danny wiggled his shoulder at the tickle of his lips. "If I'm such an animal." He wrapped his arms loosely around the detective's chest.
"Sounds like something you would do." Danny muttered, probably not paying as much attention to Steve as he should have. Not until Steve cinched his arms, trapping Daany's own, a low growl emanating from his chest—and the blond felt teeth scrape against the sensitive flesh. "This isn't Animal Planet. Behave like a person, please." He shuddered at the feeling and gooseflesh broke out across his sleeved arms. He tried to hunch his shoulders and dislodge Steve, with little success.
"My house, my rules." He voice came out slightly muffled. "And I say Animal Planet Rules."
Danny narrowed his eyes. He shifted his legs and braced his feet on the curve of the couch arm. "And I say: back off, Simba." And shoved back.
Steve puffed a chuckle against his neck at the attempt to squish him. "This is my Jungle, baby. And I'm King!" he tightened his knees at Danny's hips, and then heaved them in the tight confines of the couch, taking Danny in an alligator Death Roll and putting him face-first into the couch.
"Steve! Get off me!" Danny bucked, but Steve went dead-weight on his back and butt. "You're squishing me!"
"Just admit defeat. Call me King. And I'll feed you." Steve told him.
"I see you reverted back to a ten-year-old," he grumbled.
Steve of course, had superior leverage—and weight. Despite being the little brother, Matty was bigger than him. Most everyone was bigger than him. But he was compact, like a bulldog. Stubborn like one too. And he wasn't about to let Steve win, not if he could help it.
He exhaled and made himself relax under Steve's weight. "Alright. Alright."
"Mm-hm." Steve released his arms, leaning on his forearms. "Sing those sweet-words, Danno." He crooned.
Danny smirked into the cushions. "Didn't they teach you never to let your guard down in the Army?" and he went buck-wild before Steve could transform into octopus-mode; he was impossible to dislodge in that mood.
Steve yelped as he was sent tumbling from the couch and crashing onto the floor, shoving the coffee table away. He instantly tried to get up, but Danny moved immediately. He rolled from the couch and flopped onto his partner; both grunted at the impact. There was nothing graceful about it, but it was just as effective.
Danny quickly fixed his position on the man, ignoring the rub of material on the sting at his inner thigh. The blond sat on his chest, knees pining his forearms. "Simba dethroned!"
But Steve's expression was not that of the defeated. Danny looked down on him with a suspicious gaze. And he was right to be, as Steve's core-muscles tightened. In a flexible move that was definitely out of Danny's repertoire, but in Steve's crazy wheelhouse, the SEAL managed to his leg up and hooked it around Danny's chest. He pulled Danny back, to the floor, his other leg coming and making a cross over chest, limiting his shoulders movement. Danny ignore the feet in his face, and quickly threw his legs over Steve shoulders, managing to cinch his thighs around the man's ears.
"Two can play at this game!" he strained. Steve started to dig his fingers in the man's strong thighs to pry them apart from around his head like the Jaw of Life. "Atch." Danny quickly stopped him. "Watch the sting, huh? Don't wanna hurt me, do you?"
Steve gave a low growl. "That's totally cheating!"
"Just taking advantage of the terrain, babe." he winked with a grin.
"This would be a lot more fun if you were a woman," Steve complained, face starting to turn as red as Danny's.
"Yeah, well. This is the closest you're going to get to my crotch anyways." Danny replied.
"Glad you didn't decide to wear the briefs, bud." Steve told him earnestly. He barred his teeth in a sharp grin, pointedly shooting his gaze down his nose, "And I cut always bite."
"No biting!" He cried indignantly. Danny got the threat instantly, paling, and quickly releasing his thighs. Steve laughed as he untangled his legs from the blond's torso and Danny scooted back like he was on a slip n' slid. "Now that's cheating!" Danny told him, carding a hand through his hair and out of his face.
Still grinning, Steve crossed his ankles and pulled his knees up as he sat up. "Just taking advantage of opportunity freely given. How's that for the Army?" he mocked
"I thought you were in the Navy?" he teased and laughed at the sour look returned. "Kidding, kidding." He held up his hands briefly as his partner looked about ready to throw something at him, and the only things he could see were hard things. Danny snorted derisively and shook his head, leaning back against the foot of the recliner behind him. "I deserve that."
"I will think of something." Steve insisted a quiet moment later.
"I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Just as I'm sure it'll probably be just as, if not more so insane than us getting matching tattoos. But I sure as hell hope it's not as crazy as biting me."
f
HAWAII . FIVE - 0
Tell me what you think of this sequel. I was actually going to end it at the beach, but then I was like where the hell's my cuddles? So there was that brief scene on the couch—which turned pretty pre-slash with the biting implication. Hoped you liked it, please review and like!
P.S.: Just a warning, whatever box jelly fish info is in the above story, I garnered from the internet. I searched jellyfish that were common/indigenous to O'ahu and got the CARYBDEA ALATA species of the Box Jellyfish. Apparently, its venom is nowhere near as deadly as Australia's Box Jellyfish the CHIRONEX FLECKERI, the largest of the box species. (So I'm pretty sure Danno ain't gonna die).
There is also no scientific proof that urine actually helps jellyfish stings, but may even worsen the stinging pain and trigger more venom release. But I already decided that I wanted Steve to pee on Danny (please don't judge me; it's just a continuing step in their friendship), so I stuck with it. There's a lot of conflicting shit about it on the internet. Anyways... It happened.
Thanks for reading!
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