Hey Princess - Hawaii Five-0
Written for trope-bingo and posted in the Amnesty period.
Trope - Strip Poker
Fanfiction, with no infringement intended!
Hey, Princess
It was late, and Danny was tired. Less than an hour ago it had been all rush, rush, rush as he, Steve and Grace had tripped over each other in the hurry to pack up her belongings. A tropical storm was forecast and Rachel had called, apologetically, asking if they could drop Grace at her house before it hit. Although it lost him an hour with his precious girl, Danny could understand her reasoning so he had only grumbled at half volume, for a mere 45 minutes, as Steve deftly steered the Camaro through the traffic caused by clueless tourists seeking shelter and blindly following their GPS’s. By the time they finally made it back to the house the winds were blowing fiercely and Danny’s rant had subsided to a more philosophical musing on life, the universe and custody arrangements, and Steve grinned as he pulled up in the driveway.
“Didn’t we leave the kitchen light on?” Danny interrupted his rant, while pointing accusingly at the house. “Shouldn’t there be a sort of homely glow emitting from it, you know, last homely house east of the sea and all that?”
“West,” Steve said, peering out the windscreen. Danny frowned ominously. Well trained by now Steve elucidated; “West of the sea, Danny. The house,” and before Danny could reply scathingly about misuse of literary quotes, he added, “Dammit, power’s out already,” and hopped out of the car. Danny took a moment to grab the Maglite he kept in the glove compartment (still wary of putting his hands in there, bloody Steve) and followed him in a more leisurely fashion up the walk, leaning into the gale. By the time he had blown inside and let the door slam behind him, Steve had already checked the fuse box, and could confirm that the power was, indeed, down. Fuck. Danny had been looking forward to popcorn, cuddling on the sofa, and the game, not necessarily listed in order of importance. Popcorn and the game at least were now off the menu.
“There are candles in the kitchen drawer,” Steve said, adding with a grin, “hey, we could play strip poker!”
Danny raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, then closed it again. It wasn’t, all things considered, a bad suggestion of how to pass the time. Instead he pulled at Steve’s arm, grumbling “Let’s at least get a couple of beers and some snacks before you get me naked, McGarrett, geez,” and he didn’t even have to look up to know that Steve was wearing his big stupid grin, and that made Danny grin too, and hurry to find chips and a six pack of Longboards.
Steve was lighting candles, bent over the coffee table - a view which Danny stopped to admire for a few seconds; so sue him, McGarrett was fucking gorgeous - and the room was slowly lighting up into a golden glow. Danny collapsed on to the sofa with a sigh of pleasure, and kicked off his shoes, knocking them under the table. Steve made a low noise of disapproval in his throat and Danny glared at him, so Steve pointedly bent over again and fished the shoes out, then walked them over to the rack at the front door where his already sat, neatly aligned and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt on their little leather tongues.
“Neat freak” Danny said lazily, and patted the sofa next to him. “C’mere.”
Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and stayed where he was. Danny, attuned to the numerous facial ticks which made Steve Steve, responded immediately. It was Pavlovian, he swore.
“What? Why the Disapproving Mother-in-Law face, Steven?” He gestured expansively to the candles, beer and snacks on the table. “You have all this… admittedly there’s no game, which is a pity, I grant you, but let’s not despair, and above you, you have me!” He grinned. “What more could you want, babe?”
Steve graduated to looking mournful. “I was promised strip poker,” he said lugubriously, then heaved a sigh and picked up a beer, which he rolled in his hands. “I guess all the other stuff you mentioned will be enough though.” His eyelashes drooped sadly.
Danny was, he admitted, a sucker for those sinful eyelashes.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He grabbed a beer for himself. “That’s passive aggressive, and co-dependent and emotionally immature and, any number of other deeply disturbed psychological things, my friend.” He paused for breath. Steve peeked out from under his lash curtain.
“Is it working?” he asked hopefully, and Danny snorted.
“Yes, yes, it’s working - go and find the cards, you big goof,” and Steve grinned his widest grin and set off for the study. Danny could hear drawers being pulled out and rifled through. He settled back against the sofa and popped the top of his beer. He took a long swallow, paused, and then took another. He opened a tube of Pringles and ate a handful, crunching noisily. He wondered if Steve had got lost.
No, here he came, torchlight bobbing dejectedly. He sat down heavily on the couch and looked sideways at Danny with a glum face and empty hands. “No cards,” he said succinctly, but that couldn’t be right. Danny distinctly remembered buying a double pack not long ago, and said so.
“We took a pack to Chin’s,” Steve reminded him. “I’m pretty sure we left it there. And didn’t Kamekona ask us to bring a pack last time we played with him and his cousins? Bet that pack is still there too.” He leaned back against the cushion with a sigh, and shifted his weight slightly. “Hang on.” He dug a little between the cushions. “Hey Danno!” He held up his unearthed treasure, smirking evilly. “It’s back on. Look - playing cards!”
In the flickering candlelight it took Danny a second to work out what his partner was holding up, but when he did he very carefully put his beer down, and gave the giant goof a kind smile.
“Steve. Babe. I know the Army beat most of the brains out of you,” he ignored the put-upon sigh from Steve, “but that, idiot, is not a proper deck of cards.” He reached out and plucked them from Steve’s hand. “These are Gracie’s Top Trumps, doofus.” He waggled them about to illustrate his point.
Steve pulled a face, possibly the ‘So-What’s-Your-Problem-Danny face #372’, but Danny couldn’t be quite sure in the candlelight. “So we can play Strip Top Trumps, then, can’t we?” he asked, earnestly, and Danny groaned.
“Steve, these are not just any Top Trumps.” He held the case closer to Steve’s face. “These are the Disney Princesses Top Trumps!” He stopped, waiting for realisation to dawn and when it didn’t, prompted, “Ariel, Jasmine, Mulan… sweet innocent animated characters, Steven!”
Steve’s expression fell for a moment, but quickly rallied to one of calculated innocence. “Well, if you think you can’t win, Danny, or if you’re too, ahem, chicken to try…” he trailed off, and Danny groaned, knowing he was going to take the bait.
“I’m not scared, asshole! I’ve played this game before. I’ll whip your sorry ass at it!” He brandished the pink see-through case. “Prepare to concede defeat, princess!”
xxxxxxxx
It was certainly the strangest game of strip poker he had ever played, reflected Danny, as he watched Steve sulkily remove a sock after losing his Jasmine on Friendship points to Danny’s Ariel. Steve scored a lucky hit after that, winning with Belle over Rapunzel in the Kindness category. His own sock flung petulantly into the centre of the room, Danny settled down to play in earnest, infuriated by Steve’s smug smirk.
Tiana beat Aurora (better known as Sleeping Beauty) on Bravery. Steve took off his other sock. Pocahontas was streets ahead of Cinderella in the Adventure stakes, and now they were both barefoot, scowling ferociously at one another. Merida beat Mulan easily, also on Bravery, and Steve let out a triumphant “Ha!” while Danny grudgingly took off his shirt and sniped that it wasn’t a fair category to play; the movie had been called Brave for chrissake. Steve lost his shirt over Jasmine, again; Danny his belt over Flounder (and why was a fish allowed in a game about princesses, even if he was her best friend, that’s what he’d like to know) and Steve, who had been wearing sweatpants instead of cargoes and who didn’t therefore have a belt to lose, ended up in his boxers when Snow White thoroughly trashed Rapunzel on the Friendship front.
“Only to be expected,” Danny told him as he slipped out of the sweats. “Snow White had seven little people around to talk to, whereas Rapunzel was stuck in a tower, and bashed her rescuer’s head in with a frying pan.” He beamed complacently. “Just sayin’, my friend, just sayin’.” Steve glowered.
A couple of rounds later Danny was down to his boxers too, and it was an all or nothing moment. “Tiana…” he began slowly, eyes narrowing, glancing down at his card, “… Kindness… 85%!”
Steve literally growled. “Aurora,” he gritted out, “Kindness a measly 56%.” He threw the card down and glared at it. “What makes Tiana so fucking kind anyway?” he demanded, and Danny shrugged, daintily picking up the discarded card with thumb and forefinger. “She did kiss a frog,” he pointed out, and Steve made ‘Eugh-Smelly--Drug-Dealer Face #26’, before standing up and beginning to push down his boxers. Danny, watching avidly, grinned in anticipation.
Steve’s hands slowed as the elastic slipped down far enough to reveal the perfect V of tendon that Danny liked so much to lick. His face twisted - he looked torn.
“What?” Danny waved his hand, indicating ‘get on with it’ in a lordly fashion. “You lost, babe. Get ‘em off.”
“I know.” Steve wrinkled his nose. He hated to lose. “I still think you cheated, somehow, probably with some trick Grace taught you…”
“My lips are sealed,” Danny interrupted, with a feral grin. Steve ignored him.
“This just feels all wrong though.” He pulled his boxers back up, and Danny gave a disappointed whine in the back of his throat. Steve looked down his nose at him, disapprovingly.
“These are princesses, Danno. Getting naked over princesses just doesn’t feel right.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do it.” And he pouted, and folded his arms over his bare chest, a man who would not be moved from his path of righteousness.
Danny was torn between laughing and pointing out that that was exactly what he had said an hour earlier. The laughter won - he could always mock Steve in the morning.
“Alright, babe, come on,” He stood up and held out his hand to his partner, who took it willingly enough. “Let’s go upstairs,” he added, then, impatiently, as Steve’s eyes swept over their discarded clothes and beer bottles, “Leave it till morning. This is more important.”
“Oh yes?” Steve arched one eyebrow, starting to grin. “What’s upstairs then, hmm, Danno?” and Danny grinned right back, and began to pull him gently by the arm. “What do you think, princess?” He reached up and placed as kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth. “Upstairs,” he whispered, “is where we live happily ever after, babe.”
End
Trope - Strip Poker
Fanfiction, with no infringement intended!
Hey, Princess
It was late, and Danny was tired. Less than an hour ago it had been all rush, rush, rush as he, Steve and Grace had tripped over each other in the hurry to pack up her belongings. A tropical storm was forecast and Rachel had called, apologetically, asking if they could drop Grace at her house before it hit. Although it lost him an hour with his precious girl, Danny could understand her reasoning so he had only grumbled at half volume, for a mere 45 minutes, as Steve deftly steered the Camaro through the traffic caused by clueless tourists seeking shelter and blindly following their GPS’s. By the time they finally made it back to the house the winds were blowing fiercely and Danny’s rant had subsided to a more philosophical musing on life, the universe and custody arrangements, and Steve grinned as he pulled up in the driveway.
“Didn’t we leave the kitchen light on?” Danny interrupted his rant, while pointing accusingly at the house. “Shouldn’t there be a sort of homely glow emitting from it, you know, last homely house east of the sea and all that?”
“West,” Steve said, peering out the windscreen. Danny frowned ominously. Well trained by now Steve elucidated; “West of the sea, Danny. The house,” and before Danny could reply scathingly about misuse of literary quotes, he added, “Dammit, power’s out already,” and hopped out of the car. Danny took a moment to grab the Maglite he kept in the glove compartment (still wary of putting his hands in there, bloody Steve) and followed him in a more leisurely fashion up the walk, leaning into the gale. By the time he had blown inside and let the door slam behind him, Steve had already checked the fuse box, and could confirm that the power was, indeed, down. Fuck. Danny had been looking forward to popcorn, cuddling on the sofa, and the game, not necessarily listed in order of importance. Popcorn and the game at least were now off the menu.
“There are candles in the kitchen drawer,” Steve said, adding with a grin, “hey, we could play strip poker!”
Danny raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, then closed it again. It wasn’t, all things considered, a bad suggestion of how to pass the time. Instead he pulled at Steve’s arm, grumbling “Let’s at least get a couple of beers and some snacks before you get me naked, McGarrett, geez,” and he didn’t even have to look up to know that Steve was wearing his big stupid grin, and that made Danny grin too, and hurry to find chips and a six pack of Longboards.
Steve was lighting candles, bent over the coffee table - a view which Danny stopped to admire for a few seconds; so sue him, McGarrett was fucking gorgeous - and the room was slowly lighting up into a golden glow. Danny collapsed on to the sofa with a sigh of pleasure, and kicked off his shoes, knocking them under the table. Steve made a low noise of disapproval in his throat and Danny glared at him, so Steve pointedly bent over again and fished the shoes out, then walked them over to the rack at the front door where his already sat, neatly aligned and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt on their little leather tongues.
“Neat freak” Danny said lazily, and patted the sofa next to him. “C’mere.”
Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and stayed where he was. Danny, attuned to the numerous facial ticks which made Steve Steve, responded immediately. It was Pavlovian, he swore.
“What? Why the Disapproving Mother-in-Law face, Steven?” He gestured expansively to the candles, beer and snacks on the table. “You have all this… admittedly there’s no game, which is a pity, I grant you, but let’s not despair, and above you, you have me!” He grinned. “What more could you want, babe?”
Steve graduated to looking mournful. “I was promised strip poker,” he said lugubriously, then heaved a sigh and picked up a beer, which he rolled in his hands. “I guess all the other stuff you mentioned will be enough though.” His eyelashes drooped sadly.
Danny was, he admitted, a sucker for those sinful eyelashes.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He grabbed a beer for himself. “That’s passive aggressive, and co-dependent and emotionally immature and, any number of other deeply disturbed psychological things, my friend.” He paused for breath. Steve peeked out from under his lash curtain.
“Is it working?” he asked hopefully, and Danny snorted.
“Yes, yes, it’s working - go and find the cards, you big goof,” and Steve grinned his widest grin and set off for the study. Danny could hear drawers being pulled out and rifled through. He settled back against the sofa and popped the top of his beer. He took a long swallow, paused, and then took another. He opened a tube of Pringles and ate a handful, crunching noisily. He wondered if Steve had got lost.
No, here he came, torchlight bobbing dejectedly. He sat down heavily on the couch and looked sideways at Danny with a glum face and empty hands. “No cards,” he said succinctly, but that couldn’t be right. Danny distinctly remembered buying a double pack not long ago, and said so.
“We took a pack to Chin’s,” Steve reminded him. “I’m pretty sure we left it there. And didn’t Kamekona ask us to bring a pack last time we played with him and his cousins? Bet that pack is still there too.” He leaned back against the cushion with a sigh, and shifted his weight slightly. “Hang on.” He dug a little between the cushions. “Hey Danno!” He held up his unearthed treasure, smirking evilly. “It’s back on. Look - playing cards!”
In the flickering candlelight it took Danny a second to work out what his partner was holding up, but when he did he very carefully put his beer down, and gave the giant goof a kind smile.
“Steve. Babe. I know the Army beat most of the brains out of you,” he ignored the put-upon sigh from Steve, “but that, idiot, is not a proper deck of cards.” He reached out and plucked them from Steve’s hand. “These are Gracie’s Top Trumps, doofus.” He waggled them about to illustrate his point.
Steve pulled a face, possibly the ‘So-What’s-Your-Problem-Danny face #372’, but Danny couldn’t be quite sure in the candlelight. “So we can play Strip Top Trumps, then, can’t we?” he asked, earnestly, and Danny groaned.
“Steve, these are not just any Top Trumps.” He held the case closer to Steve’s face. “These are the Disney Princesses Top Trumps!” He stopped, waiting for realisation to dawn and when it didn’t, prompted, “Ariel, Jasmine, Mulan… sweet innocent animated characters, Steven!”
Steve’s expression fell for a moment, but quickly rallied to one of calculated innocence. “Well, if you think you can’t win, Danny, or if you’re too, ahem, chicken to try…” he trailed off, and Danny groaned, knowing he was going to take the bait.
“I’m not scared, asshole! I’ve played this game before. I’ll whip your sorry ass at it!” He brandished the pink see-through case. “Prepare to concede defeat, princess!”
xxxxxxxx
It was certainly the strangest game of strip poker he had ever played, reflected Danny, as he watched Steve sulkily remove a sock after losing his Jasmine on Friendship points to Danny’s Ariel. Steve scored a lucky hit after that, winning with Belle over Rapunzel in the Kindness category. His own sock flung petulantly into the centre of the room, Danny settled down to play in earnest, infuriated by Steve’s smug smirk.
Tiana beat Aurora (better known as Sleeping Beauty) on Bravery. Steve took off his other sock. Pocahontas was streets ahead of Cinderella in the Adventure stakes, and now they were both barefoot, scowling ferociously at one another. Merida beat Mulan easily, also on Bravery, and Steve let out a triumphant “Ha!” while Danny grudgingly took off his shirt and sniped that it wasn’t a fair category to play; the movie had been called Brave for chrissake. Steve lost his shirt over Jasmine, again; Danny his belt over Flounder (and why was a fish allowed in a game about princesses, even if he was her best friend, that’s what he’d like to know) and Steve, who had been wearing sweatpants instead of cargoes and who didn’t therefore have a belt to lose, ended up in his boxers when Snow White thoroughly trashed Rapunzel on the Friendship front.
“Only to be expected,” Danny told him as he slipped out of the sweats. “Snow White had seven little people around to talk to, whereas Rapunzel was stuck in a tower, and bashed her rescuer’s head in with a frying pan.” He beamed complacently. “Just sayin’, my friend, just sayin’.” Steve glowered.
A couple of rounds later Danny was down to his boxers too, and it was an all or nothing moment. “Tiana…” he began slowly, eyes narrowing, glancing down at his card, “… Kindness… 85%!”
Steve literally growled. “Aurora,” he gritted out, “Kindness a measly 56%.” He threw the card down and glared at it. “What makes Tiana so fucking kind anyway?” he demanded, and Danny shrugged, daintily picking up the discarded card with thumb and forefinger. “She did kiss a frog,” he pointed out, and Steve made ‘Eugh-Smelly--Drug-Dealer Face #26’, before standing up and beginning to push down his boxers. Danny, watching avidly, grinned in anticipation.
Steve’s hands slowed as the elastic slipped down far enough to reveal the perfect V of tendon that Danny liked so much to lick. His face twisted - he looked torn.
“What?” Danny waved his hand, indicating ‘get on with it’ in a lordly fashion. “You lost, babe. Get ‘em off.”
“I know.” Steve wrinkled his nose. He hated to lose. “I still think you cheated, somehow, probably with some trick Grace taught you…”
“My lips are sealed,” Danny interrupted, with a feral grin. Steve ignored him.
“This just feels all wrong though.” He pulled his boxers back up, and Danny gave a disappointed whine in the back of his throat. Steve looked down his nose at him, disapprovingly.
“These are princesses, Danno. Getting naked over princesses just doesn’t feel right.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do it.” And he pouted, and folded his arms over his bare chest, a man who would not be moved from his path of righteousness.
Danny was torn between laughing and pointing out that that was exactly what he had said an hour earlier. The laughter won - he could always mock Steve in the morning.
“Alright, babe, come on,” He stood up and held out his hand to his partner, who took it willingly enough. “Let’s go upstairs,” he added, then, impatiently, as Steve’s eyes swept over their discarded clothes and beer bottles, “Leave it till morning. This is more important.”
“Oh yes?” Steve arched one eyebrow, starting to grin. “What’s upstairs then, hmm, Danno?” and Danny grinned right back, and began to pull him gently by the arm. “What do you think, princess?” He reached up and placed as kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth. “Upstairs,” he whispered, “is where we live happily ever after, babe.”
End