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FIC: Hawaii Five-0 (2010) Steve/Danny
Title: On the Fridge
Author: Archet
Fandom: Hawaii Five-O (2010)
Pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny ‘Danno’ Williams
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1,008
Summary: Nine o’clock on a Friday night finds Steve standing barefoot in his kitchen, staring at his refrigerator.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, nor do I own them, but I adore them anyway.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Note: my first official (completed) Hawaii Five-0 fic. I wanted something warm and happy and this is what came about.
~*~
Nine o’clock on a Friday night finds Steve standing barefoot in his kitchen, staring at his refrigerator. There’s a ‘I heart NJ’ magnet pinning Grace’s soccer schedule for the month to the smooth metal door, along with another magnet, shaped like a turtle, holding up a rainbow hued crayon drawing depicting three stick figures next to a wavy blue-green sea. They seem to be holding hands under a bright yellow sun. The sun has arrow like rays pointing down to the smiling figures.
To Steve’s eye they all look very happy.
A takeout menu for ‘Manny’s Best Pizza’ is tacked below the drawing, the phone number circled in red crayon with an accompanying note of: NO PINEAPLLE ON MY SIDE! NOT NEGOTIABLE!
Below the menu a scrap of notebook paper is held, pinned under the corner of yet another magnet, this one square and without lettering but the eagle, anchor, pistol and trident emblem is instantly recognizable to anyone that frequents Steve’s home. A note is scribbled on the paper in Danny’s familiar slanted handwriting: ‘Dr-knee-ckup-mon-10:30’. Directly underneath this, in a penmanship that’s much neater and that Steve is certain is Kono’s: ‘u r not to not cancel this again!’
Steve’s gaze travels to the bottom of the door to where an alphabet soup of sorts has collected. Plastic ABC’s and 123’s decorate the bottom half of the fridge, a scramble of letters and numbers in primary colors and Steve picks out the name ‘Danno’ in the mix, along with ‘Steve’ spelled out just beside, though the second ‘e’ in Steve has been substituted with the number three, turned backwards. Tucked in the very bottom corner there’s a conspicuous placement of ‘C luvs M’ which leads Steve to wonder just how much time his team spends loitering outside his fridge during their biweekly barbeques.
He notices that the snapshot of Grace, smiling her dad’s infections smile, has somehow gotten tucked away behind the soccer schedule. Stepping forward Steve arranges things so that the picture is on its own, predominantly displayed, securely held by a green letter ‘G’ plucked from the mess of the chaotic alphabet. Satisfied that all is now in order, Steve leans against the counter, a smile on his face as he just looks at his fridge.
He’s still there a couple minutes later when Danny strolls into the kitchen, one hand swiveling to and fro as he complains about some brainless kid on a bicycle that nearly caused him to take out the neighbor’s mailbox, the opposite hand carrying a six-pack of Longboards. Without a word Steve’s moving, plucking the beers from Danny’s hand and wrapping his arms around Danny’s trim waist, hauling him in tight.
Danny’s hands land on Steve’s shoulders as he leans back, still bitching about the kid on the bike, when Steve lifts one hand and cards his fingers through blond hair. Almost immediately Danny’s words stumble to a halt, his eyes going half closed, head tilting back into Steve’s hand.
“Hmmm,” is all Danny says.
Steve smiles and kneads his fingers, his half hard cock twitching at Danny’s low, favorable noise, and who knew that exceptionally mouthy cops from New Jersey love being petted?
Over Danny’s shoulder Steve can see the refrigerator with its picture of Grace and its notes, with Gracie’s drawing and the reminders and the colorful alphabet with hidden messages and Steve can’t remember exactly when all the tidbits of the life he now enjoys made their way onto his fridge, and he doesn’t care.
Steve slowly withdraws his fingers from Danny’s hair, trails them down over Danny’s neck, his smile stretching into a grin when his lover tilts his head back even further and watches Steve with heavy, sleepy eyes. Steve strokes the hollow of Danny’s throat and then just presses his hand down, palm flush against Danny’s chest, fingertips resting in the small concave space revealed by the open top of Danny’s dress shirt.
The seconds stretch out, filled with their combined warmth and breath, with their locked gazes held in the peace of the moment.
“Babe?” Danny finally says softly, as if even he’s unsure of what he’s asking.
Steve holds his gaze, relinquishing nothing, not his hold on Danny nor the moment that’s unfolding so slowly it’s as if Steve has all the time in the world to just feel this, to just feel everything he needs to.
“I was just looking at the fridge,” Steve offers.
Danny blinks, brow wrinkling for an instant before smoothing out, that easy, unfettered smile that Steve’s come to covet curving his mouth. “Okay. So, I’m guessing it was a good experience, then?”
“It was,” Steve agrees and he’s feeling brave in this warm moment so he adds, “I just realized, I was happy, s’all. That I am, really happy.”
Danny stiffens and for a moment Steve wonders if, somehow, he’s said the wrong thing. But then the world rights itself and Danny’s arms, those terrifically strong arms, wrap around Steve’s shoulders and he’s pulling Steve down as close as possible without actually breaking their shared gaze.
“So that’s all.”
Steve laughs outright, feeling as free as he ever has. Feeling as free as someone like him probably ever could feel. He backs Danny against the counter and leans into that delicious, warm, strong body and brings his mouth down to whisper huskily into Danny’s ear.
“Wanna make love to you.”
Danny shudders in Steve’s arms and when he speaks his voice is low and soft and his eyes are such a lambent blue that Steve can’t even put a name to the color except to call it simply, ‘Danny’. “God, yes, babe. Anything you want. It’s all yours. Everything.”
Something huge and amazing unfolds in Steve and suddenly he wants to tell Danny everything, about how he was once so lost, but now he’s not. He wants to confess to Danny all his secrets, to lay out all his hidden desires, but he doesn’t. Steve goes with what he’s best at. He just shows Danny instead.
Author: Archet
Fandom: Hawaii Five-O (2010)
Pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny ‘Danno’ Williams
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1,008
Summary: Nine o’clock on a Friday night finds Steve standing barefoot in his kitchen, staring at his refrigerator.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, nor do I own them, but I adore them anyway.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Note: my first official (completed) Hawaii Five-0 fic. I wanted something warm and happy and this is what came about.
~*~
Nine o’clock on a Friday night finds Steve standing barefoot in his kitchen, staring at his refrigerator. There’s a ‘I heart NJ’ magnet pinning Grace’s soccer schedule for the month to the smooth metal door, along with another magnet, shaped like a turtle, holding up a rainbow hued crayon drawing depicting three stick figures next to a wavy blue-green sea. They seem to be holding hands under a bright yellow sun. The sun has arrow like rays pointing down to the smiling figures.
To Steve’s eye they all look very happy.
A takeout menu for ‘Manny’s Best Pizza’ is tacked below the drawing, the phone number circled in red crayon with an accompanying note of: NO PINEAPLLE ON MY SIDE! NOT NEGOTIABLE!
Below the menu a scrap of notebook paper is held, pinned under the corner of yet another magnet, this one square and without lettering but the eagle, anchor, pistol and trident emblem is instantly recognizable to anyone that frequents Steve’s home. A note is scribbled on the paper in Danny’s familiar slanted handwriting: ‘Dr-knee-ckup-mon-10:30’. Directly underneath this, in a penmanship that’s much neater and that Steve is certain is Kono’s: ‘u r not to not cancel this again!’
Steve’s gaze travels to the bottom of the door to where an alphabet soup of sorts has collected. Plastic ABC’s and 123’s decorate the bottom half of the fridge, a scramble of letters and numbers in primary colors and Steve picks out the name ‘Danno’ in the mix, along with ‘Steve’ spelled out just beside, though the second ‘e’ in Steve has been substituted with the number three, turned backwards. Tucked in the very bottom corner there’s a conspicuous placement of ‘C luvs M’ which leads Steve to wonder just how much time his team spends loitering outside his fridge during their biweekly barbeques.
He notices that the snapshot of Grace, smiling her dad’s infections smile, has somehow gotten tucked away behind the soccer schedule. Stepping forward Steve arranges things so that the picture is on its own, predominantly displayed, securely held by a green letter ‘G’ plucked from the mess of the chaotic alphabet. Satisfied that all is now in order, Steve leans against the counter, a smile on his face as he just looks at his fridge.
He’s still there a couple minutes later when Danny strolls into the kitchen, one hand swiveling to and fro as he complains about some brainless kid on a bicycle that nearly caused him to take out the neighbor’s mailbox, the opposite hand carrying a six-pack of Longboards. Without a word Steve’s moving, plucking the beers from Danny’s hand and wrapping his arms around Danny’s trim waist, hauling him in tight.
Danny’s hands land on Steve’s shoulders as he leans back, still bitching about the kid on the bike, when Steve lifts one hand and cards his fingers through blond hair. Almost immediately Danny’s words stumble to a halt, his eyes going half closed, head tilting back into Steve’s hand.
“Hmmm,” is all Danny says.
Steve smiles and kneads his fingers, his half hard cock twitching at Danny’s low, favorable noise, and who knew that exceptionally mouthy cops from New Jersey love being petted?
Over Danny’s shoulder Steve can see the refrigerator with its picture of Grace and its notes, with Gracie’s drawing and the reminders and the colorful alphabet with hidden messages and Steve can’t remember exactly when all the tidbits of the life he now enjoys made their way onto his fridge, and he doesn’t care.
Steve slowly withdraws his fingers from Danny’s hair, trails them down over Danny’s neck, his smile stretching into a grin when his lover tilts his head back even further and watches Steve with heavy, sleepy eyes. Steve strokes the hollow of Danny’s throat and then just presses his hand down, palm flush against Danny’s chest, fingertips resting in the small concave space revealed by the open top of Danny’s dress shirt.
The seconds stretch out, filled with their combined warmth and breath, with their locked gazes held in the peace of the moment.
“Babe?” Danny finally says softly, as if even he’s unsure of what he’s asking.
Steve holds his gaze, relinquishing nothing, not his hold on Danny nor the moment that’s unfolding so slowly it’s as if Steve has all the time in the world to just feel this, to just feel everything he needs to.
“I was just looking at the fridge,” Steve offers.
Danny blinks, brow wrinkling for an instant before smoothing out, that easy, unfettered smile that Steve’s come to covet curving his mouth. “Okay. So, I’m guessing it was a good experience, then?”
“It was,” Steve agrees and he’s feeling brave in this warm moment so he adds, “I just realized, I was happy, s’all. That I am, really happy.”
Danny stiffens and for a moment Steve wonders if, somehow, he’s said the wrong thing. But then the world rights itself and Danny’s arms, those terrifically strong arms, wrap around Steve’s shoulders and he’s pulling Steve down as close as possible without actually breaking their shared gaze.
“So that’s all.”
Steve laughs outright, feeling as free as he ever has. Feeling as free as someone like him probably ever could feel. He backs Danny against the counter and leans into that delicious, warm, strong body and brings his mouth down to whisper huskily into Danny’s ear.
“Wanna make love to you.”
Danny shudders in Steve’s arms and when he speaks his voice is low and soft and his eyes are such a lambent blue that Steve can’t even put a name to the color except to call it simply, ‘Danny’. “God, yes, babe. Anything you want. It’s all yours. Everything.”
Something huge and amazing unfolds in Steve and suddenly he wants to tell Danny everything, about how he was once so lost, but now he’s not. He wants to confess to Danny all his secrets, to lay out all his hidden desires, but he doesn’t. Steve goes with what he’s best at. He just shows Danny instead.