Five-0 Fic: BROTHER - S/D, R, Chapter 10/10
Title: Brother
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Characters/Pairing: Danny POV, Steve/Danny
Rating: R
Word Count: ~30,500 Total/This chapter ~2000
Genre: Case fic, Angst, H/C, Team
Spoilers: Through 2.12 for actual spoilers- informed in intent/mood by all episodes through 2.18. 2.19 means there are time stamps in my future, lololol.
Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just commandeering them for a short time and some transformative fiction-
Thank you: very, very much to my thoughtful beta, starlet2367, who read bits out of context for weeks and then read it all over again :-)
A/N: 1) coda for 2.10, missing scenes/coda 2.11- incorporates very minor amount of dialogue from 2.11, written by Melissa Glenn & Jessica Rieder- my intent is that this slides into canon pretty seamlessly. 2) Show drives me crazy for re-naming like real buildings for other real buildings and shit, so although I made an attempt, don't shoot me if you know the actual road names I should be using and I'm not, lolol 3) I only stuck to RL law enforcement/military info as closely as the show does :whistles: 4) If you carry, my opinions aren't necessarily my character's opinions- if you have no idea what I'm talking about, move along, nothing to see here :-)
Summary: Steve's standing right there, but Danny can't reach him.
CHAPTER ONE // CHAPTER TWO // CHAPTER THREE // CHAPTER FOUR // CHAPTER FIVE // CHAPTER SIX // CHAPTER SEVEN // CHAPTER EIGHT // CHAPTER NINE
OMG- TO my WIP readers- I am so sorry! I totally intended to get all the rest of this up early on Sunday and not leave you hanging so bad, but my day totally got hijacked by a well-intentioned family member. Read on, please, and then go watch 2.12 again; you know you want to :-)
*** CHAPTER TEN ***
Fumbling in his blankets, Danny finds his pants, finds the key, stumbles back over to Steve and unlocks the cuffs. Steve's hands fall to his sides, though he doesn't move right away. Danny drops the key there on the floor and tries to flee, but Steve grabs his ankle and holds on.
He falls, not gracefully, and Steve's rolling over, reeling him in, saying, “Danny, Danny, stop, Danny, stop, it's okay” until he gets him wrapped up, his mouth on his neck, his cheek, his tongue marking his lips, his fingers hard and hot, still pulling him down, pressing him closer, until Danny opens his mouth to him, not only lets him in, but takes back, and Steve is everything, everything, he wants right now.
He can't breathe, for Steve grinding hard against him, rutting into his hip, and Danny needs to focus. This is too important. He rips his mouth away. Steve groans, attacks his collarbone instead. Danny gasps for air and shifts, Steve giving way without giving up his attack, until Danny's on top and presses down, cock to cock, the heat a shock despite their clothes. Steve throws his head back, thwacking it on the floor again and seriously, he's going to have bruises all over tomorrow.
“Babe,” Danny whispers, stroking his head. Steve turns into the caress, kissing Danny's palm with an open mouth and Danny's hips jerk in response. He takes Steve's mouth again, and it's deep and wet and he could live there for a very long time, except, except... he needs...
“I need...” Steve says, an echo of Danny's thoughts.
“What do you need, babe?” And Danny knows, of course, he does, but he's never been sure Steve swings this way, that he's even aware of his own interest in Danny. Hell, Danny hardly swings this way anymore, hasn't for anyone else since years before Rachel.
He tastes the skin of Steve's neck, at his shoulder. It's salty and a little bitter and Danny can't help biting down, just a bit. Steve arches up, both his hands move to Danny's ass and his fingers press in, holding him there as Steve rolls his hips in a slow, mind numbing rhythm that makes Danny's skin feel tight over his muscles. On his elbows, he's aware of every detail, the burn in his thighs, the stretch of his calves as he fights to keep his toes from sliding on the floor, the small ache in his left knee, the heat of Steve's hands, the sweat running down between his shoulders, the ever present sand beneath his palms when he places them flat on the hardwood and rocks his hips, tries to take control of the rhythm, slow it down, the whine rising from the back of Steve's throat, escaping through his parted lips with each breath he takes as Steve lets him.
Teetering on the edge, Steve gathering himself, tighter and tighter, Danny suddenly wants more than this, rubbing off against each other like teenagers. Or strangers. He sits up and takes Steve's hands in his, closing his thighs to block Steve's roll, hushing Steve when he starts to protest. Leaning over, he places them above Steve's head and holds them there. Steve stretches and then tightens his whole body, turning it into a long hard ridge beneath Danny before he relaxes completely, his pelvis sinking, belly cupping, in a way that slides Danny's cock hard up against Steve's again and makes Danny want even more than he's about to take. With effort, he pushes that desire away, banking them both, refusing to let his body move the way it wants when Steve goes still.
“Stay,” he mutters and when he lets go, draws his hands back down to Steve's chest, Steve actually leaves his arms above his head, hands fisted. His pulse is jumping in his throat as he swallows, his gaze dark. The further rush of blood downward makes Danny lightheaded. His cock throbs with his heartbeat. He can feel Steve's heart, too, through his palm, beating its way forever into his own.
Easing back, Danny hooks his fingers in Steve's waistband and draws the top down far enough to free his thick cock, thankful that the night's so dark and close around them. The familiar, shifting light from the TV screen hides as much as it reveals. Steve jumps when Danny's fingers close on him and Danny lays his other hand flat on Steve's tight belly to keep him still. The tremble that spreads under his fingers nearly sends him over. He shudders and releases Steve briefly to press hard at the base of his own cock through his damp boxers, so that he can hold on a few minutes more.
He wants the taste of Steve on his tongue, but he knows. He knows he's leaving and he thinks that just might keep him here, so he doesn't. The feel of him hot and stiff in his hand, it's enough. It has to be. He jacks Steve, hard and fast.
Steve starts to reach for him, but when Danny growls a warning, he slams his arms back down again, hands just above his head, grimacing, eyes screwed shut, teeth clenched, and writhes until he figures it out, lets his pelvis rise under Danny as he presses against the floor with his fists and shoulders and feet; finally lets himself go and fucks up into Danny's closed fist. As he spills, body taut and straining, Danny lets go to cover him, runs his hands up Steve's rigid arms to his wrists and holds him down, licking into his open mouth until Steve drops under him, held breath rushing into Danny's mouth. He rolls his hips slowly, languidly, and offers his tongue; Danny sucks him in.
His arms flex, testing, but he goes quiet again when Danny resists letting him go, holding hard enough to bruise. A rush of heat sears straight through Danny, tears a noise from his throat he's never heard before, and Steve responds, pushing up against him, abdomen rippling, and Danny bears down against that pressure, as Steve breathes something encouraging onto his lips before licking them, using his teeth. Danny tilts his face away.
Steve bites his neck in revenge, and suckles, and it's too much, too much, Danny bucks against him, turns his head and buries his face in Steve's neck to get away from his mouth, but then Steve's breathing into his ear, “C'mon, Danny, god, you're making me...hard...again...fuck”.
He jerks his left leg free from between Danny's knees and wraps it around Danny's thigh, slotting Danny's cock into the heated groove of his hip, holding Danny against him even as Danny fights it, renewing his grip on Steve's wrists. Finding the traction he needs, Danny can't hold out any longer. He thrusts helplessly into Steve's heat. The lethal friction-slick of his boxers and Steve's come brings him off in seconds.
It isn't until minutes later, after Danny registers that they are lying on their sides, legs tangled, Steve holding him tight, that he notices he's crying. “Shit,” he mumbles into Steve's neck, and draws in a long, shuddery breath. He's always liked the way Steve smells, but here in the hollow above his collar bone, he's damn addictive.
“You okay,” Steve whispers into his hair.
“Yeah,” Danny says, swiping his cheeks as he sits up, grateful that Steve lets him go right away.
Hitching his sweats up over himself, Steve rolls onto his back and scrubs at his face and hair; folds his long arms up under his head and watches Danny stand and pull off his shirt, and drop it, and then jerk off his boxers. Danny glances at him, but Steve's being careful to keep his face blank, though he doesn't hide the fact that he's looking. The boxers join his shirt and Danny crosses to the couch to pull his slacks on before he drops heavily onto it, elbows landing on his knees.
He pushes his hair off his face with both hands and then leaves them there on his head, staring down at his bare feet. The ocean is loud, drowning out the sound of the TV still playing through his headphones. It can't be any later than three, maybe three-thirty.
“I'm sorry, Danny,” Steve says, voice low. He sounds sorry. And sad.
Danny sighs and sits back, letting his hands rest on his thighs and his eyes rest on Steve's chest. He's so tired. “For what?”
“The gun.”
Good answer. He slides his gaze up, studies Steven's face. He's impassive, not looking away, but not really letting Danny catch his eyes, either.
In that same, quiet tone, he says, “So. We doing this?”
“Are we...” And Danny has to stop, he's combusting so fast inside, but it doesn't help. “No, Steven,” he explodes, jumping up. “We are not, because I'm pretty certain I have more experience with men than you do, more than quickie handjobs and blowjobs at some club on leave, anyway. And despite this thing...” He waves his hands between them. “This thing between us, whatever it is, I work with you. I have to work with you everyday. I have to watch you run into dilapidated warehouses and drug shacks and disappear around corners when I know, I know there are other guys with guns trying to shoot you. So, no, McGarrett, we are so not-- and then...” there's Gracie, but he can't say that, can't witness the hurt in Steve's eyes if he says that. He stops to let his chest open up, takes a breath, because while he'd understood, he finally gets it right now, in this moment, what Rachel couldn't live with. “We are so not doing this.”
Steve's face hardens, his lips pressing together into a that thin, straight line that Danny has begun to hate, but he just blinks up at him.
He has no idea what he's asking for, Danny thinks. What Danny would give him, what he would want in return. None. Striding forward, Danny bends and scoops his clothes up. “I'm going to change.”
“You're doing this because of Rachel.”
Danny whirls around. “And Gracie. Damn straight. I'd much rather have your back in the field, make sure you live to eighty, than have you in my bed. It hurts enough already. I'm not going to regret that.”
He doesn't hear Steve leave, but when he comes back from showering and getting dressed, Steve's taken the truck and his stupid little gun and he's gone. Danny makes coffee and drinks it out on the lanai. He knows it'll be at least a couple of weeks before he's back here, before they can settle against each other again, drink beers and bump shoulders and get on with being more than friends and less than lovers. But they will, Danny has no doubt about that part of them, no matter how long it takes Steve to rebound from Wo Fat's torture of him, from Jenna's death, because Danny can't live without at least that part of them, knows it for certain now- not with the beat of Steve's heart still pounding in his chest and the salty bite of Steve's skin imprinted on his tongue.
He wanders back in and washes his mug, sets a fresh one out for Steve. In the living room, he straightens up and then takes the pillowcase off his pillow and stuffs it and his sheets and blanket into the washer and turns it on. Leaves the headphones in the guest room and packs his clothes and bathroom kit into the large duffle and garment bag he brought with him when he moved in. He takes them out to the Camaro and comes back in for his laptop and the leather case he's been hauling all his personal paperwork in since he came to Hawaii. At the very least, it forces him to purge often, and has taught him to only keep what's absolutely necessary.
He can't decide if he should leave Steve a note.
He doesn't, but when he's sitting in the car, the engine running, he shoots him a text.
Coming in late, about ten
Seconds later, his phone beeps.
c u then
TIMESTAMP - I Feel Your Tears
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Characters/Pairing: Danny POV, Steve/Danny
Rating: R
Word Count: ~30,500 Total/This chapter ~2000
Genre: Case fic, Angst, H/C, Team
Spoilers: Through 2.12 for actual spoilers- informed in intent/mood by all episodes through 2.18. 2.19 means there are time stamps in my future, lololol.
Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just commandeering them for a short time and some transformative fiction-
Thank you: very, very much to my thoughtful beta, starlet2367, who read bits out of context for weeks and then read it all over again :-)
A/N: 1) coda for 2.10, missing scenes/coda 2.11- incorporates very minor amount of dialogue from 2.11, written by Melissa Glenn & Jessica Rieder- my intent is that this slides into canon pretty seamlessly. 2) Show drives me crazy for re-naming like real buildings for other real buildings and shit, so although I made an attempt, don't shoot me if you know the actual road names I should be using and I'm not, lolol 3) I only stuck to RL law enforcement/military info as closely as the show does :whistles: 4) If you carry, my opinions aren't necessarily my character's opinions- if you have no idea what I'm talking about, move along, nothing to see here :-)
Summary: Steve's standing right there, but Danny can't reach him.
CHAPTER ONE // CHAPTER TWO // CHAPTER THREE // CHAPTER FOUR // CHAPTER FIVE // CHAPTER SIX // CHAPTER SEVEN // CHAPTER EIGHT // CHAPTER NINE
OMG- TO my WIP readers- I am so sorry! I totally intended to get all the rest of this up early on Sunday and not leave you hanging so bad, but my day totally got hijacked by a well-intentioned family member. Read on, please, and then go watch 2.12 again; you know you want to :-)
*** CHAPTER TEN ***
Fumbling in his blankets, Danny finds his pants, finds the key, stumbles back over to Steve and unlocks the cuffs. Steve's hands fall to his sides, though he doesn't move right away. Danny drops the key there on the floor and tries to flee, but Steve grabs his ankle and holds on.
He falls, not gracefully, and Steve's rolling over, reeling him in, saying, “Danny, Danny, stop, Danny, stop, it's okay” until he gets him wrapped up, his mouth on his neck, his cheek, his tongue marking his lips, his fingers hard and hot, still pulling him down, pressing him closer, until Danny opens his mouth to him, not only lets him in, but takes back, and Steve is everything, everything, he wants right now.
He can't breathe, for Steve grinding hard against him, rutting into his hip, and Danny needs to focus. This is too important. He rips his mouth away. Steve groans, attacks his collarbone instead. Danny gasps for air and shifts, Steve giving way without giving up his attack, until Danny's on top and presses down, cock to cock, the heat a shock despite their clothes. Steve throws his head back, thwacking it on the floor again and seriously, he's going to have bruises all over tomorrow.
“Babe,” Danny whispers, stroking his head. Steve turns into the caress, kissing Danny's palm with an open mouth and Danny's hips jerk in response. He takes Steve's mouth again, and it's deep and wet and he could live there for a very long time, except, except... he needs...
“I need...” Steve says, an echo of Danny's thoughts.
“What do you need, babe?” And Danny knows, of course, he does, but he's never been sure Steve swings this way, that he's even aware of his own interest in Danny. Hell, Danny hardly swings this way anymore, hasn't for anyone else since years before Rachel.
He tastes the skin of Steve's neck, at his shoulder. It's salty and a little bitter and Danny can't help biting down, just a bit. Steve arches up, both his hands move to Danny's ass and his fingers press in, holding him there as Steve rolls his hips in a slow, mind numbing rhythm that makes Danny's skin feel tight over his muscles. On his elbows, he's aware of every detail, the burn in his thighs, the stretch of his calves as he fights to keep his toes from sliding on the floor, the small ache in his left knee, the heat of Steve's hands, the sweat running down between his shoulders, the ever present sand beneath his palms when he places them flat on the hardwood and rocks his hips, tries to take control of the rhythm, slow it down, the whine rising from the back of Steve's throat, escaping through his parted lips with each breath he takes as Steve lets him.
Teetering on the edge, Steve gathering himself, tighter and tighter, Danny suddenly wants more than this, rubbing off against each other like teenagers. Or strangers. He sits up and takes Steve's hands in his, closing his thighs to block Steve's roll, hushing Steve when he starts to protest. Leaning over, he places them above Steve's head and holds them there. Steve stretches and then tightens his whole body, turning it into a long hard ridge beneath Danny before he relaxes completely, his pelvis sinking, belly cupping, in a way that slides Danny's cock hard up against Steve's again and makes Danny want even more than he's about to take. With effort, he pushes that desire away, banking them both, refusing to let his body move the way it wants when Steve goes still.
“Stay,” he mutters and when he lets go, draws his hands back down to Steve's chest, Steve actually leaves his arms above his head, hands fisted. His pulse is jumping in his throat as he swallows, his gaze dark. The further rush of blood downward makes Danny lightheaded. His cock throbs with his heartbeat. He can feel Steve's heart, too, through his palm, beating its way forever into his own.
Easing back, Danny hooks his fingers in Steve's waistband and draws the top down far enough to free his thick cock, thankful that the night's so dark and close around them. The familiar, shifting light from the TV screen hides as much as it reveals. Steve jumps when Danny's fingers close on him and Danny lays his other hand flat on Steve's tight belly to keep him still. The tremble that spreads under his fingers nearly sends him over. He shudders and releases Steve briefly to press hard at the base of his own cock through his damp boxers, so that he can hold on a few minutes more.
He wants the taste of Steve on his tongue, but he knows. He knows he's leaving and he thinks that just might keep him here, so he doesn't. The feel of him hot and stiff in his hand, it's enough. It has to be. He jacks Steve, hard and fast.
Steve starts to reach for him, but when Danny growls a warning, he slams his arms back down again, hands just above his head, grimacing, eyes screwed shut, teeth clenched, and writhes until he figures it out, lets his pelvis rise under Danny as he presses against the floor with his fists and shoulders and feet; finally lets himself go and fucks up into Danny's closed fist. As he spills, body taut and straining, Danny lets go to cover him, runs his hands up Steve's rigid arms to his wrists and holds him down, licking into his open mouth until Steve drops under him, held breath rushing into Danny's mouth. He rolls his hips slowly, languidly, and offers his tongue; Danny sucks him in.
His arms flex, testing, but he goes quiet again when Danny resists letting him go, holding hard enough to bruise. A rush of heat sears straight through Danny, tears a noise from his throat he's never heard before, and Steve responds, pushing up against him, abdomen rippling, and Danny bears down against that pressure, as Steve breathes something encouraging onto his lips before licking them, using his teeth. Danny tilts his face away.
Steve bites his neck in revenge, and suckles, and it's too much, too much, Danny bucks against him, turns his head and buries his face in Steve's neck to get away from his mouth, but then Steve's breathing into his ear, “C'mon, Danny, god, you're making me...hard...again...fuck”.
He jerks his left leg free from between Danny's knees and wraps it around Danny's thigh, slotting Danny's cock into the heated groove of his hip, holding Danny against him even as Danny fights it, renewing his grip on Steve's wrists. Finding the traction he needs, Danny can't hold out any longer. He thrusts helplessly into Steve's heat. The lethal friction-slick of his boxers and Steve's come brings him off in seconds.
It isn't until minutes later, after Danny registers that they are lying on their sides, legs tangled, Steve holding him tight, that he notices he's crying. “Shit,” he mumbles into Steve's neck, and draws in a long, shuddery breath. He's always liked the way Steve smells, but here in the hollow above his collar bone, he's damn addictive.
“You okay,” Steve whispers into his hair.
“Yeah,” Danny says, swiping his cheeks as he sits up, grateful that Steve lets him go right away.
Hitching his sweats up over himself, Steve rolls onto his back and scrubs at his face and hair; folds his long arms up under his head and watches Danny stand and pull off his shirt, and drop it, and then jerk off his boxers. Danny glances at him, but Steve's being careful to keep his face blank, though he doesn't hide the fact that he's looking. The boxers join his shirt and Danny crosses to the couch to pull his slacks on before he drops heavily onto it, elbows landing on his knees.
He pushes his hair off his face with both hands and then leaves them there on his head, staring down at his bare feet. The ocean is loud, drowning out the sound of the TV still playing through his headphones. It can't be any later than three, maybe three-thirty.
“I'm sorry, Danny,” Steve says, voice low. He sounds sorry. And sad.
Danny sighs and sits back, letting his hands rest on his thighs and his eyes rest on Steve's chest. He's so tired. “For what?”
“The gun.”
Good answer. He slides his gaze up, studies Steven's face. He's impassive, not looking away, but not really letting Danny catch his eyes, either.
In that same, quiet tone, he says, “So. We doing this?”
“Are we...” And Danny has to stop, he's combusting so fast inside, but it doesn't help. “No, Steven,” he explodes, jumping up. “We are not, because I'm pretty certain I have more experience with men than you do, more than quickie handjobs and blowjobs at some club on leave, anyway. And despite this thing...” He waves his hands between them. “This thing between us, whatever it is, I work with you. I have to work with you everyday. I have to watch you run into dilapidated warehouses and drug shacks and disappear around corners when I know, I know there are other guys with guns trying to shoot you. So, no, McGarrett, we are so not-- and then...” there's Gracie, but he can't say that, can't witness the hurt in Steve's eyes if he says that. He stops to let his chest open up, takes a breath, because while he'd understood, he finally gets it right now, in this moment, what Rachel couldn't live with. “We are so not doing this.”
Steve's face hardens, his lips pressing together into a that thin, straight line that Danny has begun to hate, but he just blinks up at him.
He has no idea what he's asking for, Danny thinks. What Danny would give him, what he would want in return. None. Striding forward, Danny bends and scoops his clothes up. “I'm going to change.”
“You're doing this because of Rachel.”
Danny whirls around. “And Gracie. Damn straight. I'd much rather have your back in the field, make sure you live to eighty, than have you in my bed. It hurts enough already. I'm not going to regret that.”
He doesn't hear Steve leave, but when he comes back from showering and getting dressed, Steve's taken the truck and his stupid little gun and he's gone. Danny makes coffee and drinks it out on the lanai. He knows it'll be at least a couple of weeks before he's back here, before they can settle against each other again, drink beers and bump shoulders and get on with being more than friends and less than lovers. But they will, Danny has no doubt about that part of them, no matter how long it takes Steve to rebound from Wo Fat's torture of him, from Jenna's death, because Danny can't live without at least that part of them, knows it for certain now- not with the beat of Steve's heart still pounding in his chest and the salty bite of Steve's skin imprinted on his tongue.
He wanders back in and washes his mug, sets a fresh one out for Steve. In the living room, he straightens up and then takes the pillowcase off his pillow and stuffs it and his sheets and blanket into the washer and turns it on. Leaves the headphones in the guest room and packs his clothes and bathroom kit into the large duffle and garment bag he brought with him when he moved in. He takes them out to the Camaro and comes back in for his laptop and the leather case he's been hauling all his personal paperwork in since he came to Hawaii. At the very least, it forces him to purge often, and has taught him to only keep what's absolutely necessary.
He can't decide if he should leave Steve a note.
He doesn't, but when he's sitting in the car, the engine running, he shoots him a text.
Coming in late, about ten
Seconds later, his phone beeps.
c u then
TIMESTAMP - I Feel Your Tears