Lather, Rinse, Repeat (Steve/Danny ficlet [R])
There has been too much angsty fic posted in this lj of late. Here, have some Steve/Danny cranky, flirty, bicker!fic instead.
Title: Rinse, Lather, Repeat.
Rating: light R
Pairing: Steve/Danny, established
Word Count: ~1K
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit
a/n: written for luthien as part of the Five Acts meme. The acts included are: wet men, stubble and h/c.
Summary: “Not my favorite part about being in a relationship,” said Danny, “sharing a bathroom.”
Danny was not going to be late again, and he was out of the shower, in a t-shirt and boxers, shaving in front of the mirror when Steve shouldered his way into the bathroom, fresh from his morning swim.
“Steven?” Danny glared. “Do we need to have a little talk about knocking?”
Steve looked confused.
“Okay, just because you've spent half your life in a barracks with a gazillion guys getting naked all the time, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t appreciate a little privacy in the mornings. Besides, there’s another bathroom in this house, you know?”
“You? Have some interesting ideas about the Navy,” Steve said, with a tiny, semi-leer. “And the water pressure’s better in here.”
He’d shucked his trunks already, and Danny was not, absolutely not, going to be distracted by the ocean-slick, tanned length of him, tiny drops of water still clinging to the hair on his chest and around his cock.
“Hmmpff,” Danny snorted, but he shivered involuntarily when Steve pressed up behind him and swiped his fingers through the layer of shaving cream on Danny’s jaw.
“Whya gotta shave, Danno?” Steve practically crooned. “You know I love the scruff.” He dragged his thumb back and forth against the bristle once, twice, three times--and each time it felt like every little hair stood up to meet it.
Danny wiggled irritably. This? This is why they’d already been late twice this week. “Because I am a Law Enforcement professional and I have an image to maintain, that’s why.”
“You keep telling yourself that, man.” Steve smacked him lightly on the ass and laughed as he stepped into the shower.
“Not my favorite part about being in a relationship,” Danny called after him, “sharing a bathroom.”
“Oh yeah? What is your favorite part then?” Steve shouted gleefully over the running water. “Was it last night, when your dick was so far down my throat it was practically back in Jersey? Was that your favorite part?”
Danny frantically calculated the distance between Steve’s house and the nearest neighbors’. Not close enough to hear. Probably not, anyway.
“Maybe it was that time Kono almost caught us doing it in your office chair. That was a special moment.” Steve voice was getting louder and happier by the second-he was clearly prepared to go on like this all morning.
Danny shook his head at his reflection in the mirror. He would never have gotten into this thing if he’d known McGarrett was such a tease. Okay, okay, maybe it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. But still.
“Nah,” he yelled back. “The only benefit I see from all this is that taking just one car to HQ in the mornings is reducing my carbon imprint. Wash your fucking hair already.”
Steve chortled, but quieted down. Danny could hear various useful kinds of splashing.
He tried to concentrate on shaving. He tried really hard not to think about the water sluicing over Steve’s head and body, rivulets snaking down his sides and between his legs. Of his throat arching as he lifted his face to the spray. Of his strong, broad hands sliding over his torso as he soaped away the salt.
It didn’t do much good. Danny adjusted himself in his boxers, annoyed and turned on in equal measure. You are a grown-up person, he told himself sternly, with a detective’s badge and a daughter who’s going to need braces in a few years. Not some fourteen-year-old kid who can’t think about anything but nookie.
Under the tumble of water, he heard Steve make a low, long sigh of pleasure, a languid mmmnn. Danny’s cock twitched in appreciation. Apparently he was wrong about not being fourteen.
Then the sounds changed, and Danny almost dropped the razor.
“Are you singing?” he called. “Tell me you’re not singing.”
“Sexy eyes, moving ‘cross the floor…,” Steve warbled, in a truly horrible falsetto.
“You stop that, McGarrett, you stop that--or I’m gonna have to come in there and do you some serious bodily harm.”
“ Sexy eyes, getting down with you…”
“I mean it, I’m coming in there.” Unfortunately, Danny had a sneaking suspicion that’d been Steve’s intention all along.
But, somewhat to his surprise, the singing stopped. Stopped kind of abruptly, actually.
Then the water shut off too.
“Steve?” Danny said, just the tiniest bit concerned. “Everything okay in there, babe?”
“Yeah.” Steve sounded alright, if not quite as ebullient as before. “Just pinged that muscle in my back again. Too much butterfly out there, I guess.”
That was it. Danny put down the razor and carefully walked, rather than stomped, over to the shower. He yanked back the curtain, and there was Steve, dripping wet, hair plastered to his skull, holding one shoulder hitched about two inches too high.
“What did I tell you about that?” Danny hated to nag, he really did. It was just that Steve seemed incapable of hearing good advice the first nine million times it was offered to him. “You’ve gotta rest it-give it time to heal-otherwise you’re gonna really fuck it up. Did you learn nothing from my stupid ACL thing?”
Steve nodded, eyes downcast, his ridiculous eyelashes even more luxuriant for being wet. He looked about as close to sheepish and contrite as he was capable of. Also kind of miserable.
“Okay, okay.” Danny succumbed, what else was he going to do? “Turn around.”
Steve did, with a pleased little smile. Danny sighed, and dug his fingers into a spot under Steve’s left shoulder blade. He knew exactly where it was-this thing had been going on all month. Steve’s skin was warm and damp from the shower, pliant, and Danny found the knot easily enough. He worked at it, breathing in the scent of the strong, almost medicinal soap Steve always used--carefully at first, then harder, as the muscle started to release. It didn’t take that long before Steve let out a gusty breath of relief, rolling his shoulders and arching his back like a cat.
It was no good. The beautiful, unselfconscious grace of his movements went straight to the heart of Danny’s thirty-four-going-on-fourteen-year-old being. He lowered his hands to Steve’s hips, and went up on tiptoe to lick the precise spot behind Steve’s ear he knew would drive him crazy.
They were just going to have to be late again after all.
end
Title: Rinse, Lather, Repeat.
Rating: light R
Pairing: Steve/Danny, established
Word Count: ~1K
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit
a/n: written for luthien as part of the Five Acts meme. The acts included are: wet men, stubble and h/c.
Summary: “Not my favorite part about being in a relationship,” said Danny, “sharing a bathroom.”
Danny was not going to be late again, and he was out of the shower, in a t-shirt and boxers, shaving in front of the mirror when Steve shouldered his way into the bathroom, fresh from his morning swim.
“Steven?” Danny glared. “Do we need to have a little talk about knocking?”
Steve looked confused.
“Okay, just because you've spent half your life in a barracks with a gazillion guys getting naked all the time, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t appreciate a little privacy in the mornings. Besides, there’s another bathroom in this house, you know?”
“You? Have some interesting ideas about the Navy,” Steve said, with a tiny, semi-leer. “And the water pressure’s better in here.”
He’d shucked his trunks already, and Danny was not, absolutely not, going to be distracted by the ocean-slick, tanned length of him, tiny drops of water still clinging to the hair on his chest and around his cock.
“Hmmpff,” Danny snorted, but he shivered involuntarily when Steve pressed up behind him and swiped his fingers through the layer of shaving cream on Danny’s jaw.
“Whya gotta shave, Danno?” Steve practically crooned. “You know I love the scruff.” He dragged his thumb back and forth against the bristle once, twice, three times--and each time it felt like every little hair stood up to meet it.
Danny wiggled irritably. This? This is why they’d already been late twice this week. “Because I am a Law Enforcement professional and I have an image to maintain, that’s why.”
“You keep telling yourself that, man.” Steve smacked him lightly on the ass and laughed as he stepped into the shower.
“Not my favorite part about being in a relationship,” Danny called after him, “sharing a bathroom.”
“Oh yeah? What is your favorite part then?” Steve shouted gleefully over the running water. “Was it last night, when your dick was so far down my throat it was practically back in Jersey? Was that your favorite part?”
Danny frantically calculated the distance between Steve’s house and the nearest neighbors’. Not close enough to hear. Probably not, anyway.
“Maybe it was that time Kono almost caught us doing it in your office chair. That was a special moment.” Steve voice was getting louder and happier by the second-he was clearly prepared to go on like this all morning.
Danny shook his head at his reflection in the mirror. He would never have gotten into this thing if he’d known McGarrett was such a tease. Okay, okay, maybe it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. But still.
“Nah,” he yelled back. “The only benefit I see from all this is that taking just one car to HQ in the mornings is reducing my carbon imprint. Wash your fucking hair already.”
Steve chortled, but quieted down. Danny could hear various useful kinds of splashing.
He tried to concentrate on shaving. He tried really hard not to think about the water sluicing over Steve’s head and body, rivulets snaking down his sides and between his legs. Of his throat arching as he lifted his face to the spray. Of his strong, broad hands sliding over his torso as he soaped away the salt.
It didn’t do much good. Danny adjusted himself in his boxers, annoyed and turned on in equal measure. You are a grown-up person, he told himself sternly, with a detective’s badge and a daughter who’s going to need braces in a few years. Not some fourteen-year-old kid who can’t think about anything but nookie.
Under the tumble of water, he heard Steve make a low, long sigh of pleasure, a languid mmmnn. Danny’s cock twitched in appreciation. Apparently he was wrong about not being fourteen.
Then the sounds changed, and Danny almost dropped the razor.
“Are you singing?” he called. “Tell me you’re not singing.”
“Sexy eyes, moving ‘cross the floor…,” Steve warbled, in a truly horrible falsetto.
“You stop that, McGarrett, you stop that--or I’m gonna have to come in there and do you some serious bodily harm.”
“ Sexy eyes, getting down with you…”
“I mean it, I’m coming in there.” Unfortunately, Danny had a sneaking suspicion that’d been Steve’s intention all along.
But, somewhat to his surprise, the singing stopped. Stopped kind of abruptly, actually.
Then the water shut off too.
“Steve?” Danny said, just the tiniest bit concerned. “Everything okay in there, babe?”
“Yeah.” Steve sounded alright, if not quite as ebullient as before. “Just pinged that muscle in my back again. Too much butterfly out there, I guess.”
That was it. Danny put down the razor and carefully walked, rather than stomped, over to the shower. He yanked back the curtain, and there was Steve, dripping wet, hair plastered to his skull, holding one shoulder hitched about two inches too high.
“What did I tell you about that?” Danny hated to nag, he really did. It was just that Steve seemed incapable of hearing good advice the first nine million times it was offered to him. “You’ve gotta rest it-give it time to heal-otherwise you’re gonna really fuck it up. Did you learn nothing from my stupid ACL thing?”
Steve nodded, eyes downcast, his ridiculous eyelashes even more luxuriant for being wet. He looked about as close to sheepish and contrite as he was capable of. Also kind of miserable.
“Okay, okay.” Danny succumbed, what else was he going to do? “Turn around.”
Steve did, with a pleased little smile. Danny sighed, and dug his fingers into a spot under Steve’s left shoulder blade. He knew exactly where it was-this thing had been going on all month. Steve’s skin was warm and damp from the shower, pliant, and Danny found the knot easily enough. He worked at it, breathing in the scent of the strong, almost medicinal soap Steve always used--carefully at first, then harder, as the muscle started to release. It didn’t take that long before Steve let out a gusty breath of relief, rolling his shoulders and arching his back like a cat.
It was no good. The beautiful, unselfconscious grace of his movements went straight to the heart of Danny’s thirty-four-going-on-fourteen-year-old being. He lowered his hands to Steve’s hips, and went up on tiptoe to lick the precise spot behind Steve’s ear he knew would drive him crazy.
They were just going to have to be late again after all.
end