H50 fic: Overboard
Title: Overboard
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,781
Summary: Steve and Danny are shipwrecked together on a desert island.
A/N: This fic made possible by Wikipedia, Man vs. Wild, and my lovely beta tailoredshirt.
“Just for the record,” Danny shouts over the roar of the waves and the whipping winds, “I am blaming you for this!”
“Argue with me when we’re on land!” Steve yells back. Danny actually shuts up, because Steve looks tight-lipped and tense and the sudden storm that had hit them is bad, even Danny knows that. He follows Steve’s terse instructions- Danny’s no sailor, but Steve knows what he’s doing with a boat, and Danny trusts him enough not to get in his way.
“Remember how you said you’d kill me if I sank us?!”
“I don’t like where this is going, McGarrett!”
“Just put your damn life vest on.”
Danny swears but does as he’s told and then brings Steve’s to him, taking the tiller long enough for Steve to yank it on.
“You really think we’re gonna sink?”
“I don’t fucking know, I just-”
The universe must have a sick sense of humor, because that’s the exact moment a giant swell crashes over the sailboat, and the craft gives a nauseating tip. There’s a horrible screeching noise, and Steve goes pale.
“Apparently we are,” he says tersely, and grabs the emergency kit and some rope, tying it to himself and then grabbing the life preservers at a breakneck speed. He pulls Danny with him and they hit the water just as the boat is going under, both clinging hard to the life preserver.
“There’s land that way,” Steve yells over the storm, “I was gonna try and bring us in, but now we have to swim for it.”
“I fucking hate you!” Danny yells back, but really, what choice has he got but to start paddling along with Steve toward the distant island?
“I’m really, really glad you weren’t lying when you said you were able to swim,” Steve remarks as they slog through the shallows up on to land. It’s not a large island, and the beach gives way quickly to jungle which visibly slopes steeply upward further in.
“Me too. Now can we talk about how the hell we are going to get out of here?”
“It’ll probably take a while. Do me a favor, start gathering up big sticks, bamboo, palm fronds, anything we can use to build a shelter. I’d stay under the trees, but we’ll be more visible if we’re on the beach.”
“What’ll you be doing?”
“Exploring the island. If I can find people or water, this will be a whole lot easier.”
“Shouldn’t I go with you?”
“I’ll be fine. Just going for a walk, Danno.”
“Don’t get lost or killed,” Danny says sternly, and Steve throws a mock salute and sets off into the woods.
Gathering dry wood isn’t as difficult as Danny had thought it might be- the thick growth of trees has sheltered a fair amount of it, and the storm is dissipating as suddenly as it had come up, now. By the time Steve is back, Danny has collected a pretty good pile of wood, because he’s good at multitasking, okay, he can panic and pick up branches at the same time.
“Looks like we’re out of luck on fresh water,” Steve greets him, and starts stripping bark off a nearby tree with a knife pulled from his belt.
“This day just keeps getting better and better.”
“We’re not gonna die of dehydration, I promise. Now come on, you’re helping me build a lean-to, and then I’ll get us something to drink.”
Danny submits to Steve’s instructions without complaint, for once, because he doesn’t know the first thing about building shelters out of sticks but Steve clearly does, and there’s probably a story there but Danny doesn’t know if it’s one he really wants to hear. They lash a frame together with lengths of flexible bark and build a roof of palm fronds, and by the time they’re done it actually doesn’t look too bad. At least, not too bad considering they are marooned on a desert island.
“How is this my life,” Danny grumbles, dropping down to sit on the sand under the lean-to. Steve plops down next to him and pulls over the emergency kit he’d rescued, flipping open the lid. There’s not a lot in it, really: a few fish hooks, bandages, disinfectant, fishing line, a knife, and a metal contraption that Steve pulls out and shows to Danny.
“This is a firesteel,” he explains. “You strike it like this, and- sparks. Think you can handle getting a fire going for us while I do some climbing?”
“Hey, as long as I’m not rubbing sticks together,” Danny says, and Steve smiles and claps Danny on the shoulder.
“I’m gonna see about some coconuts,” he says, nodding in the direction of a palm. Danny raises his eyebrows.
“Better you than me,” he says, and Steve snorts and doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Danny stays where he is for a few minutes, watching Steve as he heads to the tree and starts scooting his way up the trunk. His thighs must be amazing, Danny thinks, then frowns at himself. Now is not the time to be getting distracted by Steve’s thighs. Really, there’s never a time when he should be doing that, but “while shipwrecked” is second only to “in the middle of a shootout” on the list of Worst Times To Be Checking Out Steve McGarrett. Danny mentally shakes himself and gets up to find tinder and more wood, silently berating his stupid brain as he does it.
Starting the fire is actually harder than Steve had made it look- go figure- and Danny makes himself focus on nothing but getting it going, blocks out every other thought until he gets a good blaze going. By the time he’s done, Steve is standing over him with an armful of coconuts, sweaty from the climb.
“Nice,” he says approvingly, indicating the fire with a jerk of his chin, and he settles next to Danny. The sun is starting to sink toward the horizon, glaring bright on the water. Wordlessly, Steve stabs open one of the coconuts and lifts it above his head, mouth open to catch the coconut water in greedy swallows that definitely give Danny some seriously, seriously inappropriate thoughts. He takes a coconut for himself and follows suit- he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the liquid hits his mouth. It tastes fucking amazing, and Danny puts his lips right up to the fruit and slurps it dry while Steve pries his open to get at the flesh.
“This’ll be dinner tonight. We’ll try for some fish tomorrow, but right now-”
“We’re both beat,” Danny agrees. Coconut isn’t much of a dinner, but he doesn’t feel like bitching at Steve right now- he’s too worried for it, and Steve is the only one of them who knows what the hell he’s doing when it comes to surviving in the wilderness. The lack of protest makes Steve shoot him a concerned look, but he lets it go and they eat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the lapping of the waves as the island falls into darkness.
Danny wakes to the bright glare of the sun and groans. A night spent sleeping on the ground hasn’t exactly been kind to his back, and he’s covered in sand. Steve is already up, poking at the fire and putting rocks in it for some inexplicable reason, and he looks disgustingly well-rested for someone who just got shipwrecked. Bastard.
Danny brushes off as much of the sand as he can and then cautiously stretches, working loose the kinks in his muscles.
“Morning,” Steve says, and Danny grumbles in response. Steve takes that as ‘good morning to you, too,’ which it pretty much is, and continues on, “have you ever fished before?”
“Sure,” Danny replies, “my old man used to take me and my brother on weekends.”
“We should be able to get a decent meal between the two of us, then,” Steve decides, and tosses Danny the survival kit. “There’s hooks in there, you can make a pole.” He, meanwhile, has picked up a large piece of bamboo and is whittling one end into sharp points and really, McGarrett?
“Spear fishing?” Danny asks. Steve cautiously tests one of the points against his finger.
“I’ll have a better chance of getting something decent-sized if I swim out a bit. I’ve done it before.”
“Of course you’ve done it before, why would you ever want to use a hook and line when you can stab things, this is you we’re talking about. You better not drown or get eaten by sharks out there, okay, because you’re the only person here who’s trained for this crap, got it?”
“No dying, got it,” he agrees easily, then strips out of his shirt and cargoes because he’ll take any goddamn excuse to get naked. Danny rolls his eyes and tries not to stare too obviously as Steve walks down the beach and into the water in nothing but his underwear. Christ. They’d better get rescued soon, or Danny is going to lose it and jump his crazy ass.
Danny constructs a makeshift fishing pole from a stick and baits the hook with a snail he finds just under the tide line, then settles in to wait. Fishing- normal fishing, with a pole instead of a goddamn spear- is peaceful, one of relatively few things that Danny actually finds relaxing. He can sit and let himself drift, listening to the sound of the water without having to actually be in it.
By the time Steve gets back, dripping wet and sooner than expected, Danny has had a little luck, two smallish tropical fish he doesn’t recognize. Steve, however, is empty-handed.
“Nothing?” Danny says. “You, super-SEAL, you didn’t catch us a single fish?”
Steve shrugs and drops his spear on the sand. “You said not to get eaten by sharks. A couple showed up, I figured I should get back on land.”
“You feeling okay?” Danny asks mildly, raising his eyebrows. His voice is somewhere between teasing and surprised. “Because you just avoided a shark instead of trying to, I don’t know, stab it or punch it in the face or something, and if you’ve been replaced by a pod person or something I will be concerned.”
“It was a tiger shark, they’re aggressive.” Steve says, frowning. “Look, I just. I’m trying to watch out for you. Us. Watch out for us.” His cheeks actually look a little pink, which Danny is going to charitably assume is sunburn and leave at that.
“All right, McGarrett. Make yourself useful and put another fishing pole together.”
By around noon, they have enough of a catch to make a meal out of, and Steve starts digging a pit in the sand near their fire.
“What’s the hole for?”
“You really know nothing about Hawaiian culture,” Steve informs him, and starts knocking the hot rocks he had put in the fire earlier into the pit with a stick. “I’m making an oven. It’s called an imu, the rocks cook the fish. Go get me some hibiscus leaves, will you?”
“Why?”
“For the fish, you’ll see.”
“Fine, fine.” Hibiscus is one of the native plants that Danny actually recognizes on sight, and he pulls loose a bunch of leaves when he finds one and brings them back. Steve uses them to wrap up the fish in a bundle, then buries the whole thing in the sand.
“Not perfect, but it’ll do. The rocks bake the fish, it should be ready in a couple hours.”
“Huh.” Danny eyes the spot a little dubiously. “If you say so.”
“Okay,” Danny says around a mouthful of fish, “I concede. You, my friend, are the best person I know to be trapped on a desert island with. This is actually really good.”
Steve grins. “I told you it’d work.”
“You think a lot of things will work,” Danny points out, “and half the time they nearly get us killed.”
“I think nearly is the key word there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m just saying I have no way to know in advance which of your ideas will be good ones and which will be the usual insanity, okay, but this was the former. That’s what I’m saying.”
Steve looks pleased. “I know. And I am a great person to be stuck on a desert island with.”
“You’re a smug asshole. But yes.”
They’re quiet for several minutes, busy eating, until Steve says, “You are too, you know. Good to have with, I mean.”
Danny shoots him a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding? I can follow directions just fine, but I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”
Steve shrugs. “I do, so it doesn’t really matter. It’s good to have you here.”
“Steven,” Danny says, smirking at him even though the words have done funny things to Danny’s heartbeat, “are you actually feeling a feeling?”
“Shut up.”
Danny grins at him. “You are, aren’t you. Do you want a hug, babe?”
Steve thumps him on the arm, grinning. “Fuck off, Danno. Eat your fish.”
“Aw, Steven,” Danny coos, “it’s so nice to know you care.” He pauses. “Just to check, you’re not saying that because you think we’re gonna die, right?”
“Nah. You know Chin and Kono will be looking for us, and they’ll find us. They always find what they’re looking for, and I could probably live the rest of my life here if I had to. We’ll be fine.”
“Just checking. Being stuck here forever is not anything close to high on my list of priorities, but dying, dying is at the absolute bottom of that list.”
“Noted.” Steve is quiet for a moment. “The last time I got stuck somewhere I was alone in the middle of the jungle,” he murmurs. “Loneliest I’ve ever been.”
“Sorry, man,” Danny says, then, “not sorry I wasn’t there, I mean, because hell no. But that sounds rough.”
Steve makes an affirmative noise, staring out at the ocean, and Danny feels privately warmed by the admission. Steve is usually so tight-lipped about his time in the SEALs.
They finish their meal quietly, side-by side, and when he’s done Steve goes to gather more fuel for their fire and disappears into the woods, leaving Danny on the empty beach.
Their days find a rhythm on the island- morning fishing, minding the fire, keeping one another entertained with arguments and stories and games of hangman and tic-tac-toe in the sand. It’s not as bad as it could be- people are adaptable, Danny supposes, able to get used to anything if they have to. It’s been four days.
“Miranda,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, and Danny grins and wipes the hangman clean. “Honestly, Danno, is now really the time to rag on me about procedure?”
“When better? You’re stuck with me here.”
Steve scowls at him and draws a set of blanks in the sand. “Your turn.”
“It’s ‘I don’t care,’ isn’t it.”
“Cheating,” Steve remarks, and drops the twig on the beach. Danny flops back under their shelter with a slight groan- the nights spent on the ground aren’t doing him any favors- and Steve cocks his head.
“Muscles giving you trouble, Danno?”
“Not a SEAL freak like you,” Danny murmurs absently, and Steve looks at him for a moment, the firelight throwing flickering reflections in his eyes.
“I give pretty good massages,” he says after a moment, “if you want.”
Danny isn’t quite sure he trusts his self-control if Steve’s got his hands all over him, but then... but then, Steve has this intent sort of expression on his face, and he’s the one offering to put his hands all over Danny.
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, “worth a shot.”
“Shirt off,” Steve says, and Danny complies and lies down on his stomach, propping his face on his arms to keep it out of the sand. Steve settles on his hips, a warm solid weight, and Danny swallows hard and tries not to make any obscene noises as Steve presses strong fingers into the knotted muscles of Danny’s back and shoulders, working them loose until Danny feels lazy and boneless.
“Magic hands,” Danny mumbles, and Steve chuckles low in his throat.
“You don’t know the half of it, Danno.” He sounds close, and his voice is pitched low.
“McGarrett,” Danny says, more calmly than he feels, “are you putting the moves on me?”
Steve’s hands go still. “I- maybe,” he hedges carefully, and Danny laughs, because of course, of course Steve jumped right into getting touchy with Danny but won’t actually man up enough to say anything about it.
“Good. Because I want you in my pants yesterday.”
Steve is suddenly rearranging their positions, turning Danny on his back and bearing down on top of him for a kiss, and Danny swipes the sand off his chest and then pulls Steve in close, kisses him wet and filthy until Steve moans and grinds their hips together. He smells of sweat and seawater and dirt, but Danny is no better and he’s waited too long for this to give a damn in any case.
“Clothes on the sand,” he says in a brief break for air, “something to lie on, c’mon.”
“Good plan.” Steve strips with his usual alacrity and for once Danny is more than happy to follow suit. They lay out a makeshift sort of bed with their clothes and fall on to it together, both of them kissing and touching each other like they’re starved for it, desperate.
“When we get home,” Danny pants in Steve’s ear, “I want to fuck you.”
“Why don’t I get to fuck you?” Steve protests, and Danny bites at the curve of his neck.
“That too,” he agrees. “Every way I can have you, I want it.”
Steve makes a growling noise in his chest and pushes their hips together, gets one hand around their dicks and the other clutching at Danny’s hip. Danny groans and curls his hand over Steve’s, pants harsh breaths into the hollow of his throat as they rut against each other, messy and rough and amazing. Steve comes first with a cracked moan that’s like a punch to the gut for Danny, and he lets himself cry Steve’s name to the island night as he goes over the edge- there’s no one to hear them, here.
“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Danny murmurs, “so this better not just be a moment of wilderness-induced insanity, McGarrett.”
“Stop ruining our post-coital moment, here,” Steve grumbles, burying his face in Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you up all goddamn night when we’re back home, I promise.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
“You could at least pretend to be into this blowjob,” Steve says with a scowl, but Danny is ignoring him, tugging his clothes back into place and sitting up.
“Helicopter,” Danny says succinctly, and makes a dash for the signal fire, throwing more palm fronds on it to send the blaze climbing higher and throw more smoke into the sky. The chopper circles, looking for a place to set down, and as it comes low Danny could practically cry with relief, because Chin is sitting in the front and waving at them, a broad smile creasing his usually stern features.
“About time!” Steve shouts at him as the helicopter lands, and Chin barks a laugh and jumps down to meet them, clapping each in a hug.
“Hey, search parties aren’t always quick.” He gives them each a quick once-over when he lets go. “You two look okay.”
“Sunburned,” Danny says, “but okay, yeah. God, I’m glad to see you.”
“Same, brah. Come on, hop in, we’ll get you to civilization.”
Steve watches out the window as they fly back to Hawaii, no doubt trying to figure how far off course they got blown, but Danny just shuts his eyes and lets himself relax for the ride, Steve’s hand on his knee. Chin radios in on the way, and when they land Kono and Grace and, good grief, even Rachel are waiting for them.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Rachel quavers in his ear, arms flung around him, and Danny hugs her back and gathers Grace into his arms with them, murmuring nonsense reassurances to them both, he’s fine, of course it won’t happen again, like he’d ever get on a sailboat after this, it’s okay, he’s really here, he’s back, it’s all right.
He and Steve both get dragged to the hospital to get checked over, but they’re both more or less undamaged. Kono does all the scolding Chin hadn’t, but Steve seems strangely calm, smiling to himself and letting her voice wash over him as she tells them off for getting themselves stranded.
“Can we go now?” Danny interrupts when the doctor pronounces them healthy, “Or do you need to get more of this off your chest first? Only I haven’t had an actual bed in like five days.”
Kono makes a noise that’s half a huff and half a laugh, and flaps a hand at them. “Go, have real food and real sleep and actual houses. I’ll see you back at work.”
Steve grabs Danny’s wrist and pulls him to his feet. “Come over to mine,” he says, not even bothering to make it a question.
“If you were planning on being discreet I think you just blew it,” Danny remarks, side-eyeing their teammates. Chin shakes his head.
“It was just a matter of time, brah, I’m just surprised you had to be shipwrecked for it to happen.”
Danny tries for a put-upon sigh, but he’s smiling. “Sure, your place. You have a nice guest bedroom.”
“Danny,” Steve growls, and kisses him senseless right there in the exam room. “Come home.”
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,781
Summary: Steve and Danny are shipwrecked together on a desert island.
A/N: This fic made possible by Wikipedia, Man vs. Wild, and my lovely beta tailoredshirt.
“Just for the record,” Danny shouts over the roar of the waves and the whipping winds, “I am blaming you for this!”
“Argue with me when we’re on land!” Steve yells back. Danny actually shuts up, because Steve looks tight-lipped and tense and the sudden storm that had hit them is bad, even Danny knows that. He follows Steve’s terse instructions- Danny’s no sailor, but Steve knows what he’s doing with a boat, and Danny trusts him enough not to get in his way.
“Remember how you said you’d kill me if I sank us?!”
“I don’t like where this is going, McGarrett!”
“Just put your damn life vest on.”
Danny swears but does as he’s told and then brings Steve’s to him, taking the tiller long enough for Steve to yank it on.
“You really think we’re gonna sink?”
“I don’t fucking know, I just-”
The universe must have a sick sense of humor, because that’s the exact moment a giant swell crashes over the sailboat, and the craft gives a nauseating tip. There’s a horrible screeching noise, and Steve goes pale.
“Apparently we are,” he says tersely, and grabs the emergency kit and some rope, tying it to himself and then grabbing the life preservers at a breakneck speed. He pulls Danny with him and they hit the water just as the boat is going under, both clinging hard to the life preserver.
“There’s land that way,” Steve yells over the storm, “I was gonna try and bring us in, but now we have to swim for it.”
“I fucking hate you!” Danny yells back, but really, what choice has he got but to start paddling along with Steve toward the distant island?
“I’m really, really glad you weren’t lying when you said you were able to swim,” Steve remarks as they slog through the shallows up on to land. It’s not a large island, and the beach gives way quickly to jungle which visibly slopes steeply upward further in.
“Me too. Now can we talk about how the hell we are going to get out of here?”
“It’ll probably take a while. Do me a favor, start gathering up big sticks, bamboo, palm fronds, anything we can use to build a shelter. I’d stay under the trees, but we’ll be more visible if we’re on the beach.”
“What’ll you be doing?”
“Exploring the island. If I can find people or water, this will be a whole lot easier.”
“Shouldn’t I go with you?”
“I’ll be fine. Just going for a walk, Danno.”
“Don’t get lost or killed,” Danny says sternly, and Steve throws a mock salute and sets off into the woods.
Gathering dry wood isn’t as difficult as Danny had thought it might be- the thick growth of trees has sheltered a fair amount of it, and the storm is dissipating as suddenly as it had come up, now. By the time Steve is back, Danny has collected a pretty good pile of wood, because he’s good at multitasking, okay, he can panic and pick up branches at the same time.
“Looks like we’re out of luck on fresh water,” Steve greets him, and starts stripping bark off a nearby tree with a knife pulled from his belt.
“This day just keeps getting better and better.”
“We’re not gonna die of dehydration, I promise. Now come on, you’re helping me build a lean-to, and then I’ll get us something to drink.”
Danny submits to Steve’s instructions without complaint, for once, because he doesn’t know the first thing about building shelters out of sticks but Steve clearly does, and there’s probably a story there but Danny doesn’t know if it’s one he really wants to hear. They lash a frame together with lengths of flexible bark and build a roof of palm fronds, and by the time they’re done it actually doesn’t look too bad. At least, not too bad considering they are marooned on a desert island.
“How is this my life,” Danny grumbles, dropping down to sit on the sand under the lean-to. Steve plops down next to him and pulls over the emergency kit he’d rescued, flipping open the lid. There’s not a lot in it, really: a few fish hooks, bandages, disinfectant, fishing line, a knife, and a metal contraption that Steve pulls out and shows to Danny.
“This is a firesteel,” he explains. “You strike it like this, and- sparks. Think you can handle getting a fire going for us while I do some climbing?”
“Hey, as long as I’m not rubbing sticks together,” Danny says, and Steve smiles and claps Danny on the shoulder.
“I’m gonna see about some coconuts,” he says, nodding in the direction of a palm. Danny raises his eyebrows.
“Better you than me,” he says, and Steve snorts and doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Danny stays where he is for a few minutes, watching Steve as he heads to the tree and starts scooting his way up the trunk. His thighs must be amazing, Danny thinks, then frowns at himself. Now is not the time to be getting distracted by Steve’s thighs. Really, there’s never a time when he should be doing that, but “while shipwrecked” is second only to “in the middle of a shootout” on the list of Worst Times To Be Checking Out Steve McGarrett. Danny mentally shakes himself and gets up to find tinder and more wood, silently berating his stupid brain as he does it.
Starting the fire is actually harder than Steve had made it look- go figure- and Danny makes himself focus on nothing but getting it going, blocks out every other thought until he gets a good blaze going. By the time he’s done, Steve is standing over him with an armful of coconuts, sweaty from the climb.
“Nice,” he says approvingly, indicating the fire with a jerk of his chin, and he settles next to Danny. The sun is starting to sink toward the horizon, glaring bright on the water. Wordlessly, Steve stabs open one of the coconuts and lifts it above his head, mouth open to catch the coconut water in greedy swallows that definitely give Danny some seriously, seriously inappropriate thoughts. He takes a coconut for himself and follows suit- he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the liquid hits his mouth. It tastes fucking amazing, and Danny puts his lips right up to the fruit and slurps it dry while Steve pries his open to get at the flesh.
“This’ll be dinner tonight. We’ll try for some fish tomorrow, but right now-”
“We’re both beat,” Danny agrees. Coconut isn’t much of a dinner, but he doesn’t feel like bitching at Steve right now- he’s too worried for it, and Steve is the only one of them who knows what the hell he’s doing when it comes to surviving in the wilderness. The lack of protest makes Steve shoot him a concerned look, but he lets it go and they eat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the lapping of the waves as the island falls into darkness.
Danny wakes to the bright glare of the sun and groans. A night spent sleeping on the ground hasn’t exactly been kind to his back, and he’s covered in sand. Steve is already up, poking at the fire and putting rocks in it for some inexplicable reason, and he looks disgustingly well-rested for someone who just got shipwrecked. Bastard.
Danny brushes off as much of the sand as he can and then cautiously stretches, working loose the kinks in his muscles.
“Morning,” Steve says, and Danny grumbles in response. Steve takes that as ‘good morning to you, too,’ which it pretty much is, and continues on, “have you ever fished before?”
“Sure,” Danny replies, “my old man used to take me and my brother on weekends.”
“We should be able to get a decent meal between the two of us, then,” Steve decides, and tosses Danny the survival kit. “There’s hooks in there, you can make a pole.” He, meanwhile, has picked up a large piece of bamboo and is whittling one end into sharp points and really, McGarrett?
“Spear fishing?” Danny asks. Steve cautiously tests one of the points against his finger.
“I’ll have a better chance of getting something decent-sized if I swim out a bit. I’ve done it before.”
“Of course you’ve done it before, why would you ever want to use a hook and line when you can stab things, this is you we’re talking about. You better not drown or get eaten by sharks out there, okay, because you’re the only person here who’s trained for this crap, got it?”
“No dying, got it,” he agrees easily, then strips out of his shirt and cargoes because he’ll take any goddamn excuse to get naked. Danny rolls his eyes and tries not to stare too obviously as Steve walks down the beach and into the water in nothing but his underwear. Christ. They’d better get rescued soon, or Danny is going to lose it and jump his crazy ass.
Danny constructs a makeshift fishing pole from a stick and baits the hook with a snail he finds just under the tide line, then settles in to wait. Fishing- normal fishing, with a pole instead of a goddamn spear- is peaceful, one of relatively few things that Danny actually finds relaxing. He can sit and let himself drift, listening to the sound of the water without having to actually be in it.
By the time Steve gets back, dripping wet and sooner than expected, Danny has had a little luck, two smallish tropical fish he doesn’t recognize. Steve, however, is empty-handed.
“Nothing?” Danny says. “You, super-SEAL, you didn’t catch us a single fish?”
Steve shrugs and drops his spear on the sand. “You said not to get eaten by sharks. A couple showed up, I figured I should get back on land.”
“You feeling okay?” Danny asks mildly, raising his eyebrows. His voice is somewhere between teasing and surprised. “Because you just avoided a shark instead of trying to, I don’t know, stab it or punch it in the face or something, and if you’ve been replaced by a pod person or something I will be concerned.”
“It was a tiger shark, they’re aggressive.” Steve says, frowning. “Look, I just. I’m trying to watch out for you. Us. Watch out for us.” His cheeks actually look a little pink, which Danny is going to charitably assume is sunburn and leave at that.
“All right, McGarrett. Make yourself useful and put another fishing pole together.”
By around noon, they have enough of a catch to make a meal out of, and Steve starts digging a pit in the sand near their fire.
“What’s the hole for?”
“You really know nothing about Hawaiian culture,” Steve informs him, and starts knocking the hot rocks he had put in the fire earlier into the pit with a stick. “I’m making an oven. It’s called an imu, the rocks cook the fish. Go get me some hibiscus leaves, will you?”
“Why?”
“For the fish, you’ll see.”
“Fine, fine.” Hibiscus is one of the native plants that Danny actually recognizes on sight, and he pulls loose a bunch of leaves when he finds one and brings them back. Steve uses them to wrap up the fish in a bundle, then buries the whole thing in the sand.
“Not perfect, but it’ll do. The rocks bake the fish, it should be ready in a couple hours.”
“Huh.” Danny eyes the spot a little dubiously. “If you say so.”
“Okay,” Danny says around a mouthful of fish, “I concede. You, my friend, are the best person I know to be trapped on a desert island with. This is actually really good.”
Steve grins. “I told you it’d work.”
“You think a lot of things will work,” Danny points out, “and half the time they nearly get us killed.”
“I think nearly is the key word there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m just saying I have no way to know in advance which of your ideas will be good ones and which will be the usual insanity, okay, but this was the former. That’s what I’m saying.”
Steve looks pleased. “I know. And I am a great person to be stuck on a desert island with.”
“You’re a smug asshole. But yes.”
They’re quiet for several minutes, busy eating, until Steve says, “You are too, you know. Good to have with, I mean.”
Danny shoots him a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding? I can follow directions just fine, but I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”
Steve shrugs. “I do, so it doesn’t really matter. It’s good to have you here.”
“Steven,” Danny says, smirking at him even though the words have done funny things to Danny’s heartbeat, “are you actually feeling a feeling?”
“Shut up.”
Danny grins at him. “You are, aren’t you. Do you want a hug, babe?”
Steve thumps him on the arm, grinning. “Fuck off, Danno. Eat your fish.”
“Aw, Steven,” Danny coos, “it’s so nice to know you care.” He pauses. “Just to check, you’re not saying that because you think we’re gonna die, right?”
“Nah. You know Chin and Kono will be looking for us, and they’ll find us. They always find what they’re looking for, and I could probably live the rest of my life here if I had to. We’ll be fine.”
“Just checking. Being stuck here forever is not anything close to high on my list of priorities, but dying, dying is at the absolute bottom of that list.”
“Noted.” Steve is quiet for a moment. “The last time I got stuck somewhere I was alone in the middle of the jungle,” he murmurs. “Loneliest I’ve ever been.”
“Sorry, man,” Danny says, then, “not sorry I wasn’t there, I mean, because hell no. But that sounds rough.”
Steve makes an affirmative noise, staring out at the ocean, and Danny feels privately warmed by the admission. Steve is usually so tight-lipped about his time in the SEALs.
They finish their meal quietly, side-by side, and when he’s done Steve goes to gather more fuel for their fire and disappears into the woods, leaving Danny on the empty beach.
Their days find a rhythm on the island- morning fishing, minding the fire, keeping one another entertained with arguments and stories and games of hangman and tic-tac-toe in the sand. It’s not as bad as it could be- people are adaptable, Danny supposes, able to get used to anything if they have to. It’s been four days.
“Miranda,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, and Danny grins and wipes the hangman clean. “Honestly, Danno, is now really the time to rag on me about procedure?”
“When better? You’re stuck with me here.”
Steve scowls at him and draws a set of blanks in the sand. “Your turn.”
“It’s ‘I don’t care,’ isn’t it.”
“Cheating,” Steve remarks, and drops the twig on the beach. Danny flops back under their shelter with a slight groan- the nights spent on the ground aren’t doing him any favors- and Steve cocks his head.
“Muscles giving you trouble, Danno?”
“Not a SEAL freak like you,” Danny murmurs absently, and Steve looks at him for a moment, the firelight throwing flickering reflections in his eyes.
“I give pretty good massages,” he says after a moment, “if you want.”
Danny isn’t quite sure he trusts his self-control if Steve’s got his hands all over him, but then... but then, Steve has this intent sort of expression on his face, and he’s the one offering to put his hands all over Danny.
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, “worth a shot.”
“Shirt off,” Steve says, and Danny complies and lies down on his stomach, propping his face on his arms to keep it out of the sand. Steve settles on his hips, a warm solid weight, and Danny swallows hard and tries not to make any obscene noises as Steve presses strong fingers into the knotted muscles of Danny’s back and shoulders, working them loose until Danny feels lazy and boneless.
“Magic hands,” Danny mumbles, and Steve chuckles low in his throat.
“You don’t know the half of it, Danno.” He sounds close, and his voice is pitched low.
“McGarrett,” Danny says, more calmly than he feels, “are you putting the moves on me?”
Steve’s hands go still. “I- maybe,” he hedges carefully, and Danny laughs, because of course, of course Steve jumped right into getting touchy with Danny but won’t actually man up enough to say anything about it.
“Good. Because I want you in my pants yesterday.”
Steve is suddenly rearranging their positions, turning Danny on his back and bearing down on top of him for a kiss, and Danny swipes the sand off his chest and then pulls Steve in close, kisses him wet and filthy until Steve moans and grinds their hips together. He smells of sweat and seawater and dirt, but Danny is no better and he’s waited too long for this to give a damn in any case.
“Clothes on the sand,” he says in a brief break for air, “something to lie on, c’mon.”
“Good plan.” Steve strips with his usual alacrity and for once Danny is more than happy to follow suit. They lay out a makeshift sort of bed with their clothes and fall on to it together, both of them kissing and touching each other like they’re starved for it, desperate.
“When we get home,” Danny pants in Steve’s ear, “I want to fuck you.”
“Why don’t I get to fuck you?” Steve protests, and Danny bites at the curve of his neck.
“That too,” he agrees. “Every way I can have you, I want it.”
Steve makes a growling noise in his chest and pushes their hips together, gets one hand around their dicks and the other clutching at Danny’s hip. Danny groans and curls his hand over Steve’s, pants harsh breaths into the hollow of his throat as they rut against each other, messy and rough and amazing. Steve comes first with a cracked moan that’s like a punch to the gut for Danny, and he lets himself cry Steve’s name to the island night as he goes over the edge- there’s no one to hear them, here.
“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Danny murmurs, “so this better not just be a moment of wilderness-induced insanity, McGarrett.”
“Stop ruining our post-coital moment, here,” Steve grumbles, burying his face in Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you up all goddamn night when we’re back home, I promise.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
“You could at least pretend to be into this blowjob,” Steve says with a scowl, but Danny is ignoring him, tugging his clothes back into place and sitting up.
“Helicopter,” Danny says succinctly, and makes a dash for the signal fire, throwing more palm fronds on it to send the blaze climbing higher and throw more smoke into the sky. The chopper circles, looking for a place to set down, and as it comes low Danny could practically cry with relief, because Chin is sitting in the front and waving at them, a broad smile creasing his usually stern features.
“About time!” Steve shouts at him as the helicopter lands, and Chin barks a laugh and jumps down to meet them, clapping each in a hug.
“Hey, search parties aren’t always quick.” He gives them each a quick once-over when he lets go. “You two look okay.”
“Sunburned,” Danny says, “but okay, yeah. God, I’m glad to see you.”
“Same, brah. Come on, hop in, we’ll get you to civilization.”
Steve watches out the window as they fly back to Hawaii, no doubt trying to figure how far off course they got blown, but Danny just shuts his eyes and lets himself relax for the ride, Steve’s hand on his knee. Chin radios in on the way, and when they land Kono and Grace and, good grief, even Rachel are waiting for them.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Rachel quavers in his ear, arms flung around him, and Danny hugs her back and gathers Grace into his arms with them, murmuring nonsense reassurances to them both, he’s fine, of course it won’t happen again, like he’d ever get on a sailboat after this, it’s okay, he’s really here, he’s back, it’s all right.
He and Steve both get dragged to the hospital to get checked over, but they’re both more or less undamaged. Kono does all the scolding Chin hadn’t, but Steve seems strangely calm, smiling to himself and letting her voice wash over him as she tells them off for getting themselves stranded.
“Can we go now?” Danny interrupts when the doctor pronounces them healthy, “Or do you need to get more of this off your chest first? Only I haven’t had an actual bed in like five days.”
Kono makes a noise that’s half a huff and half a laugh, and flaps a hand at them. “Go, have real food and real sleep and actual houses. I’ll see you back at work.”
Steve grabs Danny’s wrist and pulls him to his feet. “Come over to mine,” he says, not even bothering to make it a question.
“If you were planning on being discreet I think you just blew it,” Danny remarks, side-eyeing their teammates. Chin shakes his head.
“It was just a matter of time, brah, I’m just surprised you had to be shipwrecked for it to happen.”
Danny tries for a put-upon sigh, but he’s smiling. “Sure, your place. You have a nice guest bedroom.”
“Danny,” Steve growls, and kisses him senseless right there in the exam room. “Come home.”