[Hawaii Five-0] Steve/Danny - Undertow
Title: Undertow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG
Summary/Notes: Completely spoiler-free ficlet for annundriel, who gave me the prompt, "Steve/Danny, barefoot." Unabashed fluff.
For all that Danny claims he doesn’t like the beach, he has to admit there’s something peaceful about this. About parking his chair out on the sand behind Steve’s house, right in the wake of the approaching tide. About digging his feet into the damp sand, where the water can lap up and erode it. About watching Steve swim laps, lulled to lethargy by the sound of the waves, the water at his feet, and the shade from the trees.
He doesn’t know when he dozes off, but he knows when he wakes up, the surf tugging at his ankles. There’s a crunch of wet sand to his right, and then Steve is looming in his vision, dripping from his swim.
“C’mon, Danno,” he says, “Time to get you inside.”
“About time,” Danny mutters, grousing more than is strictly necessary.
“Oh, because watching me swim is such a hardship,” Steve says.
Danny’s got a comeback, he has a comeback for everything, but then Steve has his arms braced on the sides of the chair, and he’s leaning over Danny. He’s dripping water everywhere, and Danny opens his mouth to protest. Steve silences him with a kiss, insistent and open-mouthed and salty from the ocean. Danny yields, willing to allow Steve this win, as he gives in to the push and pull. It’s like the tide, and kissing Steve is just as overwhelming, just as relentless, and just as hypnotic. Danny presses up, feels the undertow dragging at his feet, and loses himself in it.
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG
Summary/Notes: Completely spoiler-free ficlet for annundriel, who gave me the prompt, "Steve/Danny, barefoot." Unabashed fluff.
For all that Danny claims he doesn’t like the beach, he has to admit there’s something peaceful about this. About parking his chair out on the sand behind Steve’s house, right in the wake of the approaching tide. About digging his feet into the damp sand, where the water can lap up and erode it. About watching Steve swim laps, lulled to lethargy by the sound of the waves, the water at his feet, and the shade from the trees.
He doesn’t know when he dozes off, but he knows when he wakes up, the surf tugging at his ankles. There’s a crunch of wet sand to his right, and then Steve is looming in his vision, dripping from his swim.
“C’mon, Danno,” he says, “Time to get you inside.”
“About time,” Danny mutters, grousing more than is strictly necessary.
“Oh, because watching me swim is such a hardship,” Steve says.
Danny’s got a comeback, he has a comeback for everything, but then Steve has his arms braced on the sides of the chair, and he’s leaning over Danny. He’s dripping water everywhere, and Danny opens his mouth to protest. Steve silences him with a kiss, insistent and open-mouthed and salty from the ocean. Danny yields, willing to allow Steve this win, as he gives in to the push and pull. It’s like the tide, and kissing Steve is just as overwhelming, just as relentless, and just as hypnotic. Danny presses up, feels the undertow dragging at his feet, and loses himself in it.