let's be honest, I've never met a cliche I didn't like
Because there is no such thing as too much of a good thing, especially if you live in paradise:
The Hawaii Five-0 Cliche Meme
Fake boyfriends, accidental marriages, and amnesia, OH MY!
Whatever your poison, whatever you favorite cliche, it's open and allowed here. Want to see Steve and Danny make out for cover and discover their ~true feelings? ( Read more... )
The Hawaii Five-0 Cliche Meme
Fake boyfriends, accidental marriages, and amnesia, OH MY!
Whatever your poison, whatever you favorite cliche, it's open and allowed here. Want to see Steve and Danny make out for cover and discover their ~true feelings? ( Read more... )
The jackass's name is Pauly Melio, a buddy of Danny's from Jersey. He's visiting Hawaii with his wife and kids but that doesn't stop the guy from coming by Danny's shack uninvited in the middle of the night, drunk off his ass. The way he'd crashed around outside he's lucky Steve hadn't shot him. The familiar way Pauly The Jackass has his arm slung around Danny, Steve still might.
"S'not the same," he slurs, hauling Danny in close. "Miss you, Danny." Then he plants a sloppy kiss on Danny's neck, and that is it.
"OK, Mr. Handsy, you're done here," Steve grits out, prying the guy's grip off his... off of Danny.
Without something to hang on to he almost collapses onto the floor. Steve would be inclined to let him, except for how Danny's already glaring murderously at him, so instead he grabs The Jackass's shoulders and manhandles him over to a seat. "Stay."
"Enough with the caveman routine. You're embarrassing yourself," Danny snaps, stalking into his sorry excuse for a kitchen and setting the kettle to boil. "What, you think I'm gonna fall to my knees and blow him, right here in front of you?"
"Who, your old buddy?" Steve says pointedly. He is not the one peddling bullshit here.
Danny bangs around the kitchen, making coffee and muttering to himself. Steve keeps a sharp eye on Mr. Third Wheel, hoping the guy's not going to puke, or worse, cry.
"Danny," The Jackass whines. "Danny boy."
"Shut the hell up, Pauly. I'm busy, here."
He slumps down in his seat and finally the dick acknowledges that Steve’s in the room. He narrows his eyes and bobs his head, giving Steve a once-over. “You’re pretty.”
“He could snap you in half without breaking a sweat, you idiot,” Danny pipes up.
Steve’s momentarily appeased by the vote of confidence, so he just grins sharkishly. Pauly’s eyes bug out in fear and his mouth gapes open like a catfish (maybe the guy’s not a complete idiot) but Steve doesn’t get to enjoy it for long before Danny comes back and smacks him upside the head.
“Down, boy.”
After that there's an awkward, almost-completely silent standoff. The Jackass drinks his coffee, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Steve again; Steve keeps his eyes locked on him, ready to move if he puts his hands on Danny again; Danny hovers between them, muttering under his breath something about sleeping with fucking morons, and only leaves them unsupervised long enough to refill the Jackass's cup.
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"I just wanted to talk to you," the Jackass complains, gesturing wide with his coffee cup and sloshing the dregs all over Danny's carpet.
Danny briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Jesus Christ, you're a fuckup."
The words are harsh but there’s an exasperated fondness in Danny’s voice that Steve doesn’t like one bit. He snatches the paper towels off the coffee table and goes over to scrub viciously at the fresh stain.
“You don’t have to do that, babe,” Danny says as he dials the cab company, offhand, like that’s something he’s said a hundred times. Steve’s caught between being irrationally pissed that he rates a generic pet name and inwardly gleeful that Danny used it in front of his… buddy.
Five minutes later Steve's thinking he should've stuck with "pissed." They're all outside, waiting for the cab, and Danny wants a moment alone with the Jackass. "Nope. Not happening."
"Steve, come on. For once in your life, don't be a dick. All I'm asking for is a minute. We don't even have to be out of your eyesight; just give me this. Please."
Damnit, that's playing dirty. Steve clenches his fists, fighting the urge to grab Danny by the T-shirt and haul him in for an obnoxious, possessive kiss. Danny would probably knock him on his ass and send him home. While Steve's not exactly crazy about Danny's shithole apartment it has one good thing going for it, namely Danny himself, and Steve can't get that any place else. Not when Danny has Grace coming over tomorrow and they’d spent a couple hours getting the shithole in something resembling good order.
Steve takes a deep breath and reminds himself that compromise makes Danny happy, and when Danny's happy he tends to be invested in making Steve happy. "Fine," he grits out, and heads up the path toward the road.
Danny starts ranting before Steve's gone more than a couple of feet, and Steve figures that means the plea for privacy was more of gesture than a literal request so he stops. Listens. Doesn't feel any guilt whatsoever.
"OK, first of all: never do this again or next time I'm calling HPD. I'm serious. What if I'd had Gracie with me? You would've scared the hell out of her."
"I'm sorry. I just..."
"I'm not done," Danny snaps. "Did I say I was done? No, I did not. Second: whatever you thought was gonna go down between us isn't happening. Ever again. Not just because I don't want your wife to give me another black eye. Not just because, frankly, you're a lunatic and I haven't missed your drama. But that guy over there who very kindly did not snap you in half is someone I care about, OK? And I would like very much for you not to fuck that up.”
There's a resounding silence after that. Steve's thinking about turning around to see what the Jackass is up to, but then the guy shoulders past him, knocking him off-balance. Steve grabs the Jackass’s arm, partly to bring him to a halt and partly because it’s either that or lash out and trip him. “Hey! Where’s the fire? The cab’s not here yet.”
The Jackass jerks out of Steve’s grip, knocking himself off-balance in the process so that he ends up falling on his ass. “Don’t touch me,” he says belatedly, and makes a pathetic attempt to push himself back up. Evidently he’s still more than half-cut.
“This is what I’m talking about. You act like you belong on a freaking soap opera,” Danny says, coming up behind Steve. He leans down, grabs the Jackass’s wrist and hauls him up, but then promptly lets go and puts a good three feet of space between them.
It’s just coincidence that that’s when the knot of tension in Steve’s right shoulder that’s been threatening to give him a headache eases up.
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The Jackass scowls at him like Danny’s just spit at him, and says, “Fine, whatever,” in a tight, clipped tone that Steve hears loud and clear as, “Fuck you, asshole.”
Steve’s right on the verge of punching him when the cab pulls up, lights glaring. Steve gets to it first and slips the driver a fifty, quietly encouraging him to take the long way. The Jackass is obviously in a foul mood now, and his kids don’t deserve to take the brunt of that, especially not while the guy’s still wasted and out of control.
The Jackass manages to stumble over to the passenger door under his own steam, and when he gets in the cab he slams his door hard. Of course, because what they really need right now is for the guy to wake up Danny’s neighbors. Steve clenches his fists again, deeply sorry that he didn’t deck him at least once, and heads back to the house. He brushes by Danny, deciding to wait until they’re inside to start the next conversation because Steve’s pretty sure yelling will be involved at some point.
"Buddy, huh?" he says once Danny’s shut the door.
"OK, so I may have edited down a smidgen." Danny smoothes back his hair, and Steve braces himself for trouble. Danny always likes to get himself in order before he takes someone down, and he has that defiant set to his jaw that’s a prelude to a fight nine times out of ten.
Steve wants to bust his balls over his vocabulary - smidgen, seriously? - but he’s feeling kinda edgy himself. Definitely not generous enough to let this go and fall back into their usual back-and-forth; not just yet. He flashes Danny a Do not fuck with me smile and asks, “Why?”
“Because it wasn’t relevant. I haven’t thought about him like that in a long time.”
“How long?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, I’ve been sending him postcards every week, and having Skype sex with him when we get the time zones lined up. Years, OK? Twenty-six months. If you give me a minute I can work out how many days, and roughly how many hours. Would that make you feel better, you nut?”
Steve folds his arms tightly over his chest. “Twenty-six months is pretty specific for someone you say you don’t think about anymore.”
“I can’t help it. It ended right after Grace’s birthday.”
“Who ended it?” Steve can’t help but ask. This guy, this Jackass, is fixated on his Danny. Shit like that doesn’t usually just pop up out of nowhere.
“I did. Well, in a way I guess his wife did when she punched me in the face; that was kind of a moment of clarity for me.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Steve says dryly, gesturing to his cheekbone.
Danny cocks his head and frowns slightly, the way he always does when he’s working through something. “Did I ever apologize for that?”
“For the right cross you gave me the first day we met? No, you never did.”
“Good, because I’m not sorry; you were being an asshole. Which, by the way, is a pretty common occurrence.”
“Oh, I’m the asshole?” Steve shifts his weight and stares at Danny, incredulous.
“I didn’t ask Pauly to show up here. I shut him down and I kicked him out of my apartment. So tell me, how are your insecurities in any way my fault?"
Steve draws a blank, which only pisses him off more. "Because!"
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"I don't like surprises. Random exes I’ve heard nothing about count as surprising.”
“What do you want from me? A list of everyone I’ve ever been close to? Names, birthdays, social security?”
“Just the truth.”
“Just the truth. Yeah right, just the truth.” Danny covers his face with his hands for a minute, growling in frustration, and then replies. "OK, here it is: we screwed around a little. That’s it. No epic romance; no secret conspiracy.”
“Then why lie about it?”
“What, you’ve never done shit you weren’t proud of? I wasn't married anymore when we hooked up; he was. Is," Danny corrects himself. “I know Mara; their daughter used to have playdates with Grace before… you know.” He gestures to his eye and then lets his hands fall to his sides, looking so hysterically forlorn Steve can’t resist pulling his metaphorical pigtails.
“So what you’re saying is, you’re a low-down dirty homewrecker.”
Danny shakes his head. “I cost my kid a friend. And by the way, this is exactly why I don’t tell you these things. You think my fuckups are a) hilarious and b) things I want to be reminded of all the freaking time.”
Steve just shrugs. “Point.”
“You know, what I really don’t get is why you got your panties in such a bunch. You don’t have a problem with Rachel.”
“Rachel’s not still hung up on you,” Steve shoots back but the fire is bleeding out of him now, as the time creeps towards ass-o’clock. “Rachel doesn’t show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night for a booty call.”
“Which you know I had no intention of answering, whether you were here to protect my virtue or not,” Danny says, with his hand over his heart.
“Doesn’t mean the guy’s not a raging dick.”
Danny narrows his eyes and stares, like he’s trying to take Steve apart and figure out how to put him back together. It’s still unnerving after all these months, but now it’s layered with Steve’s knowledge of the things Danny can do when he makes you the centre of his attention, and it makes Steve’s skin prickle with want.
“Jealousy, huh? Are you sure that’s it?” Danny says finally, pitching his voice low.
“Why? What do you think is it, Dr. Phil?”
Danny smiles and shakes his head. “What do I think? I suspect that you were harboring some secret fantasy about being the guy who turned me queer.”
Steve laughs out loud at that. He can’t help it; Danny’s ego is a force to be reckoned with. “You want to know about my fantasies all you have to do is ask.”
“I would but it’s two o’clock in the morning and when I go to pick up Gracie tomorrow I’d like not to fall asleep at the wheel and kill myself. So, if you’re ready, Commander McGarrett,” Danny says, gesturing expansively at the pull-out.
Titles. Kinky. Steve files that one away for later. “After you, Detective.”
Danny undoes his pants and slips them off, but since he apparently considers himself a master at multi-tasking he gets in a dig at Steve at the same time. “You don’t want to interrogate me some more?”
“I think you’re off the suspect list. But if you see anything unusual, any strange people hanging around you let me know, now.” Steve strips off and slides under the covers, wriggling to try and get comfortable on the worn mattress.
Danny joins him, looking thoughtful again. “Well, there is this one guy who’s, like, psychotically possessive.”
Steve rolls his eyes and grins. “Sounds dangerous. You want me to keep an eye out for him?”
“Nah, I’ve got it covered,” Danny replies, leaning across Steve to snap off the light and using the opportunity to press Steve down and plant a kiss on him. It’s slow and lazy, the kind of kiss they don’t have time for all that often, and it makes Steve wish things were different. That it was a different day, or that they had a different job - one that would be a cake-walk on three hours’ sleep.
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And jealous Steve is so great. ♥
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P.S: http://angelgazing.livejournal.com/282008.html?thread=2218392#t2218392
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Then Danny makes a frustrated noise and rolls away, leaving Steve half-hard and decidedly twitchy. But it’s cool; it’s fine. Steve can just breathe through it and will himself to relax. He has years of practice at catching shut-eye under all sorts of fucked-up conditions, so keeping his hands off Danny until morning should be a cakewalk.
So what if Danny keeps letting out short, annoyed breaths, and punching his pillow, and squirming all over the damn place in a futile attempt to get comfortable. He did this to himself, and Steve’s not going to give Danny any (more) excuses to bitch at him tomorrow. Even if a blow job would be pretty damn good right about now.
Steve lets out an annoyed huff of his own and rolls onto his right side, curling his body away from Danny’s to minimize temptation. It works, too; he’s almost asleep when Danny speaks again.
“Out of curiosity, what did you say to the cab driver? Tell me you’re not having someone toss Pauly into a shark cage, because I will not be your accomplice.”
“Danny, let it go or I will smother you with your pillow.”
“You say the sweetest things. No really, it’s very touching.”
“You’re touched in the head.”
“Au contraire; I am a catch. I’ve got solid proof now. People fight over me.”
“There was no fighting.”
“There was posturing. And don’t think I didn’t see you clenching your fists on more than one occasion, Rocky.”
Steve shifts and puts his pillow over his head, mumbling, “Goodnight, Adrian.”
Danny smacks him in the shoulder, so Steve feels justified in grabbing his wrist and yanking Danny’s hand down over his dick. “You know what? I think you still owe me for ‘very kindly’ not breaking that Jackass in half.”
“You were listening, huh? Why am I not surprised?” Danny bitches, pressing the length of his body against Steve. “You know what your problem is, McGarrett? No sense of boundaries.” Then he bites down on Steve’s shoulder, rolling his hips forward when Steve arches his back.
“Not when it comes to assholes trying to take what’s mine,” Steve grits out, gasping when Danny takes firm grip of his cock.
“Yours, huh?” Danny says right in his ear. “Were you ever planning on letting me in on that little detail, or is it one of those Steve things where it’s just supposed to be taken as read?”
Whether or not he really expects an answer is debatable. Steve shivers as Danny’s teeth scrape over his earlobe and his tongue flicks out to tease that sensitive spot where Steve’s earring used to be.
“Seriously? Right this second you want to have the relationship talk?”
Danny responds by stroking Steve’s dick through his shorts. “Maybe I’m still pissed at you.”
“Nah, you’re crazy about me.”
“It is true that you make me crazy,” Danny says, and that’s the last of the banter for a while. He slides his free hand into Steve’s hair and pulls his head back, and then they’re kissing again, bruisingly hard this time. Steve's neck protests against the twisting stretch but he'll put up with a lot worse to have Danny's tongue in his mouth. Danny's a fucking demon when he gets worked up, forceful and insistent and mean in a way that gets Steve aching every time.
By the time Danny lets go of his hair they’re both gasping, and Steve can feel Danny’s chest heaving against his back. Strictly speaking, Danny’s too short to sprawl all over Steve, so whenever he’s the big spoon it tends to require some careful deliberation as to what he wants more: Steve’s mouth or his ass. And Danny’s never been shy about including Steve in the decision-making process, stroking Steve’s dick and saying filthy things in his ear until Jesus Christ, Danny, I don’t care; just do something.
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Danny bites at Steve's shoulder, at his throat, sucks Steve's earlobe back into his mouth to tease at the scar tissue with teeth and tongue and just the right pressure (Steve's glad he had to take out the earring because he's pretty damn sure that if Danny was tugging on it right now Steve would've shot his load embarrassingly fast).
And the whole time the motherfucker is rolling his hips and jacking Steve's cock wickedly slow. Like he knows he's got Steve exactly where he wants him for precisely as long as he wants. Danny rolls his hips forward again and again, moaning right in Steve's ear when the contact gets too much, and fuck, that is just playing dirty.
“Danny.”
“You want something, babe?” Danny says, and Steve can tell the bastard is grinning by the stretch of his lips against Steve’s skin.
Steve reaches a hand back and vindictively musses Danny’s hair. “Quit playing around.”
“Quit playing around, huh? Why would you say that to me? I have been the perfect gentleman.” Danny punctuates his sentence by biting down on Steve’s shoulder again, hard enough to cause a spike of pain, and then presses a kiss to the same spot.
Steve snorts. “You sure about that?
“I’m sure. Dead certain. One hundred percent positive.”
"Well, then, who am I to argue? Sir," Steve adds, just for the hell of it.
Danny growls and uses his free hand to give Steve a sharp pinch. “You are nothing but trouble,” he complains. “It’s not enough that I let you drive my car, because you are a crazy freak with control issues - not a garden variety control freak but a crazy freak with control issues. And now I can’t talk to anybody from back home without prior approval? I do not think so, sweetheart.” Danny twists his wrist, making Steve curse and buck his hips and completely lose the comeback he’d had on the tip of his tongue.
“Right now I should be sleeping instead of giving you an abject lesson in trust,” Danny continues, and then pauses to suck on Steve’s neck some more.
“I feel for you, buddy,” Steve says, grinning when Danny sputters in annoyance.
“I… That is… You never learn.”
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