Your Heart on Your Skin
Title: Your Heart on Your Skin
Author: silmanumenel
Disclaimer: Nothing in here belongs to me, all is property of CBS. I’m also not making any money with this, I don't think anybody would pay me.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Warnings: Beware of the fluff!
Word Count: 5.353
Summary: Steve learns that famous tattoo artist Danny Williams is on Hawaii, and he wants nothing more than a tattoo from him. Unfortunately for Steve, Danny Williams doesn't take on just any customer.
Notes: This was written for the AU challenge on h50-flashfic, and I posted it to my lj now for completeness' sake. It's for my big brother, whose tattoos were the inspiration for some of it.
“So, what do you think a city councilor was doing in this neighborhood?” Kono asks as they watch the people from the crime scene unit loading the body into their van. Steve shrugs his shoulders and looks around, searching for anything that might give them a clue. It’s not a bad area of Honolulu, but still, you wouldn’t expect to find a city councilor here, especially not after dark and all alone. There’s some kind of alternative shop around the corner, a hookah bar a few houses down and a tattoo parlor right across from the alley where the councilor was found early that morning with a neat hole in his head.
It wasn’t a robbery, that much is clear because he still had his wallet and wore his gold rolex, but Steve somehow doesn’t think there’s anything more sinister going on, and if the councilor hadn’t been such good friends with the governor, he would have been very happy to let HPD handle this.
They survey the scene once again, but there’s nothing more to see, and they’ve already bagged and tagged all the evidence they could find and sent it to forensics with Jenna, so they make their way across the street to where Chin is questioning someone, probably one of the tattoo artists. They’re just catching the tail end of the conversation, where Chin’s asking for a name and an address if they have any further questions.
“Danny Williams. And I live right here, over the studio. Can I go now? I still have a customer inside.”
Steve stops dead in his tracks and his eyes widen. Surely he can’t have heard that right? Danny Williams? The Danny Williams? Steve has seen his work online and has- as he has to admit somewhat guiltily - even been tracking his Facebook site. The man is a genius, an absolute star in the tattoo scene, and Steve can’t quite believe that he might actually be here. Although he now remembers reading an article some time ago which said it was being rumored that Danny Williams was at present in Hawaii. But as you could never know with the elusive artist - he rarely gives interviews, doesn’t let his picture be taken or published and only takes on customers by recommendation and personal introduction - Steve didn’t take it seriously.
Steve loves his work, the clear lines, the vibrant colors, the sheer graphicness and how he makes the piece speak without any embellishments or whimsical backgrounds, and Steve notices to his embarrassment that he is actually bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and mentally shoving Chin out of the way. He tries to calm down, using the breathing technique he was taught during his SEAL training and telling himself he’s not a fifteen-year-old girl about to meet Justin Bieber, but it’s not really working.
Chin finally steps to the side, and Steve gets his first look at Danny Williams. He dimly notices that the guy is short, not much more than 5’5, yet powerfully built with shoulders that are filling out his shirt nicely, but what arrests him immediately are the clear blue eyes that lock onto his. He doesn’t think too closely about why that might be.
“Mr. Williams? Steve McGarrett, I’m the head of the taskforce. I’m sorry to take up your time, but we need to know if you saw or heard anything yesterday around 11 PM.”
He holds out his hand and Danny takes it in a firm grip, shaking it once and giving him a once-over that most decidedly does not have Steve feel a bit tingly inside, eyes resting briefly on where his tattoos peek out of his sleeves.
“Yeah, sure, I get that. But like I told your colleague here, I didn’t see anything. I was working on some flashes, and I usually never notice anything then. Sorry.”
Danny holds out his arms in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, and Steve manfully resists asking to see the flashes, instead nodding at Chin that he’s got this and waiting until the other has made his way over to Kono who is talking to the two baristas from the coffee shop next door before getting out his phone and showing the picture that Jenna just sent him to the other man.
“Mr. Williams,” he starts, but is almost immediately interrupted.
“Call me Danny. Mr. Williams makes me feel as if I’m my dad.”
Steve blinks a few times, then nods his head.
“Sure, thanks. You can call me Steve. So, Danny, did you perhaps see this man around here? Not yesterday, but perhaps some other time?”
Danny takes the phone out of his hand and looks at the councilor’s picture for a long time in concentration, and Steve does not think about how he would like to smooth that frown line away with his fingers.
“Yeah, I saw him. Three days ago, I guess, in the coffee shop. Not this one here, their hot chocolate is a disaster, but the one in the next street over. I just noticed him because he had this enormous bouquet of red roses, and I kept thinking jeez, he must’ve gotten in big trouble with his girl. Not that I think flowers are cutting it as an apology because honestly, what’s the symbolism you’re expressing here? ‘I’m giving you something that’ll be dead in three days, after that I don’t care anymore and do the same shit again’? Anyway, he was sitting in a booth, with about 50 roses in front of him, and kept fidgeting and glancing at the door all the time. I was sure he’d spill his coffee over his nice suit any moment.”
Danny’s hands are slicing through the air, accompanying his words as if he’s a conductor at the opera, and Steve is kind of mesmerized. He’s so different from what Steve would’ve expected this exceptional artist to be, with his east-coast-accented voice and his many words and his big gestures. Steve gives himself a mental shake, focusing on what was important in that rant and waving Chin and Kono over. He fills them in quickly on the info about the other coffee shop and sends them over there to see if the employees have anything more on the councilor, telling them he’ll meet up with them later at HQ.
“Thank you,” he says, turning back to Danny, and then can’t help blurting out, “Your work is amazing.”
Danny’s eyebrows climb up his forehead, and he crosses his arms over his chest, but remains silent otherwise, so Steve is forced to continue.
“I saw it online and in some magazines. It’s just… it’s so there, so direct, sometimes even downright harsh, but it still has this element of beauty. And it always seems to speak, you know?”
He wants to smack himself because that’s nothing if not utter bullshit, but Danny is smiling now, and hell if it doesn’t make him ridiculously attractive.
“Thanks man. Most people don’t get that. They want the whirls and the waves and all the other background shit and don’t see that the tat should stand on its own and speak for itself. It should tell a story to everyone who sees it. And most don’t let it. See, that’s why I only accept new customers on recommendation from someone I already know. Because if someone came to me and wanted a fucking little star on their ankle because they’re afraid to show the ink, I’d hand their asses to them faster than they can say ‘Old School’! Why even get a tattoo if you’re not willing to show it? All pseudo-rebels who think they’re so nonconformist for getting a tattoo! And don’t get me started on the idiots who just walk into the parlor and don’t even have an idea in their heads! I see it often enough here, and I’m damn happy I don’t have to deal with them. At least one thing my reputation is good for! I’d go crazy if someone told me to ‘just do something, it doesn’t matter’!”
Steve is absolutely fascinated by what Danny’s telling him, and even if he never thought about it like that, even if one of his tats somewhat originated in such a manner, he agrees completely. He is also following Danny’s rapidly waving hands with his eyes again, but now he’s trying to figure out the design on the other’s forearm because it looks great, and he wants to know what it is.
Danny finally stops and rakes a hand through his hair with a slightly sheepish smile on his face, and Steve can now see that it’s an elaborate coffin with two keys crossed over it, and he wants to ask about that, wants to say something intelligent, maybe that he kind of understands what Danny means.
So of course, what comes out of his mouth is, “I really want a tattoo from you.”
Which is the truth, he’s wanted one since he first saw Danny’s work and even more now that he’s met him, but it clearly wasn’t the smartest move because Danny’s face closes off again.
“No. Like I said, I only take on customers that are personally introduced to me by someone I trust. And I don’t know you. So no. I hope you find the murderer, but I have to get back to work now.”
With that he turns on his heel and heads back into the parlor, and Steve is left berating himself for not keeping his mouth in check.
---
However, Steve is nothing if not persistent, and over the next few weeks he shows up at the tattoo parlor whenever he finds the time. During his first few visits, Danny doesn’t even come out to see him, so he talks some to Noa and learns that the owner of the shop was only too happy to rent one of his rooms out to the other artist. It’s very good for the business, Noa tells him, even if Danny doesn’t accept regular customers and can be downright abrasive to them, calling them brainless, mainstream-following sycophants from time to time. It’s obvious Danny likes using big words.
After about five weeks, when they’re having a calm week with barely any cases and Steve appears for the fourth time in as many days, Danny finally comes out into the open front of the studio to talk to him. And he is - naturally - preceded by his voice.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Are you some kind of crazy stalker-person? I thought you were some sort of cop! What are you doing here? What do you want? I told you I’m not going to ink you!”
“I thought we could have a coffee and talk some more about tattoos.”
Danny stops mid-wave and stares at him for a long second, then huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.
“You’re not going to stop, are you? You’re going to keep coming, right? You know what, whatever! Fine, let’s have some coffee. Or not because I don’t drink coffee, but I’ll have a tea. Come on, go, go, what are you waiting for? You’re the one who’s basically kidnapping me here, so don’t just stand there.”
And that’s how they end up in Danny’s favorite coffee shop, talking for nearly three hours about everything from tattoos to the abomination that is pineapple on pizza. Steve learns that Danny got his first tat in secret when he was sixteen, in a backroom somewhere in Newark. That he was immediately hooked and wanted to know everything he could about this special art form. That his hands shook like crazy when he did his first piece and that the lines came out all crooked. And he learns that Danny is only in Hawaii because his ex-girlfriend, a stage actress, got a good offer from the Theatre Center and moved here with their daughter, and Danny wanted to stay close to his little girl.
“I should be grateful we get along well, Rach and I. Because, you know, it wouldn’t have been easy getting access to Gracie otherwise. There’s still lots and lots of prejudices about tattoo artists, and it’d kill me if I couldn’t see her. She’s my life, you know?” he says, playing idly with his paper cup, a fond, open smile spreading over his face.
Steve checks his urge to reach over and cover Danny’s hand with his own, but he can’t help the… the… yes okay, they’re butterflies, the stupid things fluttering around in his stomach.
Later, when he’s back home and sitting on the lanai with a cool beer, Steve has to admit to himself that he might be in some serious trouble. Now that he knows Danny a bit better, the instant attraction he felt from the very beginning has turned into something… more, something that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. He still wants nothing more than to be tattooed by Danny, but now it’s not just about getting a piece from an amazing artist. It’s about getting a piece from Danny, about having Danny wield the tattoo gun, letting Danny mark him in that truly intimate way.
And he wants even more, but he’s not sure that’s something he might have a chance of getting.
---
A few weeks and quite some visits later, when Steve’s at the studio yet again, watching Danny sketch something while they’re sitting in the little lounge room, the other suddenly puts down his pencil, looks up and pins Steve with his blue eyes.
“Alright, let’s see them.”
Steve is confused for a moment, wondering if he’s again missed something which happens quite frequently in conversations with Danny. But Danny’s just rolling his eyes and making ‘go on’ motions with his hands.
“Your tats. I still haven’t seen them, and now I want to know what they are.”
To his mortification Steve feels himself blushing, but still rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, somehow not comfortable with the thought of simply taking it off. Danny comes over and sits down next to him on the couch, taking a hold of his arm and leaning in close to get a good look. Steve holds his breath, fighting down his immediate reaction to Danny’s touch and keeping himself very still so that he doesn’t do something so monumentally stupid as kissing Danny. Fortunately he can rely on the other to fill what could otherwise be an awkward silence.
“Giger? Honestly, Steve? Please, please tell me this is not an expression of your mental state. Although… It might actually fit. You are certifiable after all. Don’t think I have forgotten your crazy stunt from last week! What even was that? Okay, the guy grabbed that lady’s handbag, but you… You could’ve just run after him. But no, Mr. I’m-the-head-of-the-taskforce-to-end-all-taskforces has to vault over the hood of a car and tackle him into a shop-window! This is not normal behavior, Steven. And okay, I admit the Giger might be an accurate expression of the minefield that seems to be your mind.”
Danny’s right hand is stabbing at the air again, but his left is still on Steve’s arm, and his thumb is stroking the skin just beneath the tattoo gently. It’s all Steve can do not to break out into a full-body shiver.
“He would’ve gotten away, Danno.”
Danny glares at him, but doesn’t say anything about the nickname which Steve counts as a win. He overheard it when Danny was on the phone to his daughter once and simply had to use it to see what would happen. That Danny seems halfway okay with it now… perhaps it means something.
“Say,” Danny starts, looking away from Steve towards the window, but still not taking his hand off Steve’s arm, “if - and don’t get me wrong, this is completely hypothetical - if I were to decide I’d tattoo you… what would you want?”
Steve sucks in a sharp breath and reaches out instinctively to circle Danny’s wrist. Their eyes meet, and Steve can almost feel the electricity between them.
“You’d…?”
“Purely hypothetical, Steve!”
He doesn’t even have to think about it.
“A dragon.”
He lets go of Danny, afraid of what he’ll do otherwise, wanting, but still unsure if he’s getting this right. Danny’s looking thoughtful, a sparkle lighting up his eyes.
“Wow, I could definitely see that for you. And… and where?”
“I thought here,” Steve says, pointing to the right side of his chest and motioning downwards, “because I wanted it to be real and… bigger. I was in Asia a lot, and once, I met this old woman in a village in the mountains. I… I wasn’t really well, and she took care of me. She had this… this beautiful scroll of a dragon hanging on the wall. It was her pride and joy, and I was looking at it from the bed the whole time. She told me that it’s been in her family for generations, that it’s her connection to her past and that the dragon is a protector of that. And… well, I’ve wanted one since then.”
Danny is completely focused on him, and it’s a heady feeling, having all of that attention to himself alone. Steve is almost blindsided by the wave of desire that hits him, wants to know what it’d be like to have that attention on him under different circumstances, and barely catches Danny’s next words.
“That’s a powerful memory, Steve. And yeah, it would fit… The protector, courage, strength… raw power. Of course, also wisdom which you could use a bit more of. The placing would be ideal. We could go till here,” his hand skims over Steve’s thigh and stops just above his knee, “hypothetically of course.”
Steve can hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears, feels his skin tingling where Danny’s touching him, and is just about to throw all of his caution to the wind and lean forward when Danny looks at the clock on the wall and the spell is broken.
“Oh, sorry. I have a customer in ten minutes. Gotta go, Steve, see you later.”
And he picks up his sketchbook and leaves the room. Steve pounds the couch in frustration and then tips his head back and glares at the ceiling.
---
Steve is sitting in the lounge room again, waiting for Danny to finish with his customer. The last case was hard, and he hasn’t been able to come here for almost three weeks which has been the longest time he hasn’t seen Danny in three months. He honestly wasn’t prepared for how much he would miss Danny, and he didn’t know how much of a constant the other had become for him until he didn’t get to see him about four out of seven days.
When Danny enters the room with a smile on his face and some papers under his arm, it’s all Steve can do not to jump up, hug him and never let go again.
“Steve! You alright? If I hadn’t gotten the occasional text, I’d have worried you’d fallen off your surfboard and drowned.”
He’s spreading the papers over the table, still talking non-stop, and Steve relaxes for the first time in nineteen days. Danny is such a presence that the dark thoughts usually accompanying Steve after a case like this one just don’t find any room and disappear, and he is suddenly desperate to have this all the time. To have Danny in his house, chasing away the bitter memories, have him in his life and in his heart.
Danny’s voice shakes him out of his musings, and Steve berates himself for his mushiness, he has to be more tired than he thought.
“Steve! Hello! Earth to super-SEAL! You still with me?”
Steve nods and finally looks at the papers… and his eyes fly to Danny’s in surprise. They’re sketches of dragons. Dragons in varying poses with varying expressions, some bigger some smaller, some with color and some without.
“Danny? What…?”
Danny rubs his head and looks away, almost as if he’s embarrassed.
“Well, I thought about it, and I really like the idea of the dragon for you. And I’ve decided that I’ll not so hypothetically do it. I thought we could talk about the design today and maybe start next week. You’re aware it’ll take quite some time, right?”
Steve knows he’s staring at Danny with his mouth hanging open, but he can’t help it, he’s struck dumb. He’s almost given up on this, and now Danny is handing it to him on a silver platter. And because Steve always was a man of action rather than words, he finally gives in to one of his many urges, gets up and envelops Danny in a hug, holding him close for a long moment.
“Thank you.”
There’s really nothing more he can say, and when Danny’s arms come up to wrap around his waist, he almost sags in relief.
“It’s alright, you goof,” Danny nearly whispers, fondness coloring his voice, before pushing away and being all business-like. “And now let’s get this show on the road.”
They spend a fun two hours mapping out the details of Steve’s new tattoo, and Steve is blown away by how much they just click, how they understand each other perfectly, and how an absolutely amazing piece of art is emerging under Danny’s hands.
“It shouldn’t be anything fancy,” Danny says, tracing the design with his finger over Steve’s pecs, down his stomach and onto his thigh, “just the dragon, nothing of all that knick-knack in the background. And I’m certainly not doing any of that multi-colored stuff some of the others insist on. Black, perhaps some red and yellow for the belly and the ridge on the back. Nothing else. You okay with that?”
Steve thinks he’d be okay with anything Danny might suggest, if he just keeps on touching him, but he actually likes the idea a lot. The sketch alone Danny whips up looks awesome, and he can’t imagine what it’ll be like when they actually start.
---
A week later it’s finally happening. Steve is lying on the chair in Danny’s workroom while Danny is transferring the contours to his skin with the pen. He’s almost shivering in anticipation, watching Danny’s hands as they’re flying over his chest and then meeting the other’s eyes when he stops.
“You ready? We’ll see how far we get with the outlines today. Now listen. You tell me when the pain gets too much, alright? I don’t want any macho-bullshit from you, or any I’m-a-tough-SEAL-trained-to-withstand-torture, you hear me? These are some sensitive areas we’re covering. If I think you’re feigning it, babe, I’ll stop.”
A jolt runs through Steve at the pet name, and a smile spreads over his face. He knows he’s not the most astute where emotions are concerned, but when he looks at last week and now this, he thinks he’s reading the signals right. Danny raises his eyebrow, and he nods quickly, willing to agree to anything as long as the other just starts already.
When Danny’s gloved hand settles just beneath his ribs, when the needle touches him for the first time, it’s as if he’s found something he didn’t even know he was looking for, as if a connection is being forged between them. It’s a thrilling thought, and he only hopes he’s not the only one feeling this.
They fall into conversation easily as Danny works, it’s like all the other times they’ve talked, and still it’s also more. Danny tells him about the time he spent in Japan as a student of Horisaga III., about how he had to kneel for eight hours each day, four weeks straight, doing dry runs with the wooden handle, before he was allowed to do his first tebori. To learn the proper discipline, as his master had said.
“I’m sure that’s what finished off my knee completely. I hurt it in high school, tore the ACL. I had to get surgery when I came back from Japan, and now it always twinges when the weather changes. Stupid, right?”
Steve doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, it’s something about Danny, and as far as he is concerned he’s happy to learn everything he can about Danny.
The dragon’s head emerges slowly while Danny talks about his family, about the rift his chosen career put between him and his parents for a few years, about his siblings and how they supported him until his mom and dad came round.
And while he traces one of the coils of the dragon’s body, it’s Steve who begins to talk. He didn’t think he could tell another person about this, but it all comes spilling out. His mom’s death, his dad retreating, sending him and Mary away, joining the Navy, and finally his dad’s murder and Victor Hesse. Danny listens to him, really listens, and it’s as if a huge weight lifts off him.
When Danny finishes and puts some saran wrap over what they’ve done today, Steve can’t deny that it hurts, but he also feels lighter than he has been in a very long time.
---
By their third session they have fallen into a rhythm of some kind. Danny outlines what he plans to do, then he starts, and they just talk. About everything and nothing. Grace, some of the more ‘moronic’ customers that walk into the studio, Steve’s cases, his work on the house. After about two hours they take a break, and Danny shows Steve the flashes he’s working on while they’re drinking tea. Steve’s never felt that close to another person, and he doesn’t know for how much longer he’ll be able to hold back, Danny’s lingering, sometimes gently stroking touches slowly but surely driving him crazy.
They’ve finished with the outlines, and when Danny stops for the day there are already some scales colored in. The design’s now gotten so big that it’s not enough to tape the clear film to his front, and when Danny’s standing in front of him, holding out the roll and telling him to turn around so that he can wrap the film completely around him, Steve knows what’ll follow. He’s avoided showing his back to Danny till now, but it was bound to come out soon.
And sure enough there’s a sharp intake of breath, followed by Danny’s slightly choked off voice.
“A tramp stamp? Really, babe? When did you get that? How? And…,” Danny’s hand lands on his back, probably right over the tattoo, and then Steve feels Danny’s warm breath as he’s leaning in close to get a good look, “it’s not been that expertly done. It’s symmetrical enough, but the lines are really crooked, and it’s not been filled in properly.”
His fingers are ghosting over the design now, and Steve leans back into them, wanting more of the contact.
“It was stupid. It was a dare, and I wanted to be cool. I know what you’re going to say, tattoos shouldn’t be done just like that, but it happened and now it’s a part of me.”
The fingers still, and for a moment Steve is desperately afraid that he’s ruined everything. He knows how important his art is to Danny, how serious he takes it, and saying he got a tat on a dare goes against everything Danny believes in. But then Danny continues, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower than Steve’s ever heard it before.
“We’ll have to do something about that when we’re finished with the dragon, babe.”
There’s a small pause, then Steve feels a kiss being brushed across his shoulder. And that’s it, the last of his control finally deserts him, and he whirls around, not caring about the clear film clinging to him awkwardly, puts a hand on the nape of Danny’s neck and draws him in, kissing him firmly on the mouth. As first kisses go, it’s absolutely perfect, Danny opens up under him easily, and Steve can’t get enough of him, burying his hand in his hair and holding him close, and as far as he’s concerned, he’s never letting Danny go again.
But his tattoo obviously has other ideas because as soon as Danny comes into contact with it, Steve jumps back with a small cry of pain. He’d almost forgotten about it in the rush of finally having Danny’s lips on his.
Danny looks at him in surprise for a second, then starts laughing and gathers up the clear film again, wrapping it deftly around Steve’s torso and taping the ends together.
“Sorry, babe. You see how it is, the tattoo always comes first. Guess we’ll still have to wait until it heals before we do anything else. And there’s really no need to pout.”
Steve surely isn’t pouting, but Danny is still grinning at him, and when he steps close, without touching this time, puts a hand on Steve’s cheek and leans up to kiss him softly, it’s all right anyway.
---
Steve loves these quiet mornings, when he’s got nowhere to be and nothing to do, and can just lounge in bed until the sun baths the room in golden light. He normally doesn’t like being lazy like that, is usually up at the crack of dawn for his morning swim, but this? This is so much better, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
He props his head up on his hand and watches Danny sleep, sprawled on his back, head turned towards him and taking up more space than Steve would’ve ever thought possible for someone eight inches smaller than him. Danny is still as he never is when he’s awake, and he looks serene and so damn beautiful that it’s almost too much. Steve reaches out with his other hand, traces the panther on Danny’s upper arm with the lightest of touches, and wonders how he ever got so lucky.
Danny mumbles in his sleep and shifts slightly, and Steve withdraws his hand, getting up from the bed and turning towards the mirror hanging on the wardrobe. They’ve finished the dragon just last week, and he still can’t stop looking at it in awe whenever he gets the chance. It’s absolutely stunning, coiling over the full length of his right side down to just above his knee, holding a crystal ball that’s surrounding his nipple in one of its claws. It’s strong, yet graceful. It’s everything he wanted and more than he ever thought he’d get.
And Steve doesn’t just see the dragon, he also sees them. He sees Danny and his brilliant passion, sees his handwriting, his sheer personality, all over it, sees his story in the curls of the long body. And he sees himself, sees his own struggles, the pain of his story that he shared with Danny in the lines of the dragon’s face, but also the happiness he’s found so unexpectedly and the anticipation for what’s yet to come. It’s all there.
Steve is so lost in his thoughts that he jumps in surprise at the arms wrapping around his waist, and then Danny’s face appears in the mirror, peeking around Steve’s shoulder. Danny doesn’t say a word, only follows mirror-Steve’s gaze to the dragon and then lets his hand trail over it slowly.
With the way Danny is looking at him, Steve is sure his partner can even read his mind now, and he is proven right by Danny’s next words.
“Wear your heart on your skin, babe. I think you’re doing that pretty well here.”
Steve leans back against Danny’s chest and closes his eyes, letting the breeze coming in from the open window envelop them both. Yes, wearing your heart on your skin, not hiding it away as he’s been doing for way too long.
He turns around and kisses Danny, telling him everything he doesn’t yet quite have the words for, and then drags him back to bed.
It’s still early, and they have all the time in the world.
The End
*******************************************************
Wear your heart on your skin in this life. - Sylvia Plath
Author: silmanumenel
Disclaimer: Nothing in here belongs to me, all is property of CBS. I’m also not making any money with this, I don't think anybody would pay me.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Warnings: Beware of the fluff!
Word Count: 5.353
Summary: Steve learns that famous tattoo artist Danny Williams is on Hawaii, and he wants nothing more than a tattoo from him. Unfortunately for Steve, Danny Williams doesn't take on just any customer.
Notes: This was written for the AU challenge on h50-flashfic, and I posted it to my lj now for completeness' sake. It's for my big brother, whose tattoos were the inspiration for some of it.
“So, what do you think a city councilor was doing in this neighborhood?” Kono asks as they watch the people from the crime scene unit loading the body into their van. Steve shrugs his shoulders and looks around, searching for anything that might give them a clue. It’s not a bad area of Honolulu, but still, you wouldn’t expect to find a city councilor here, especially not after dark and all alone. There’s some kind of alternative shop around the corner, a hookah bar a few houses down and a tattoo parlor right across from the alley where the councilor was found early that morning with a neat hole in his head.
It wasn’t a robbery, that much is clear because he still had his wallet and wore his gold rolex, but Steve somehow doesn’t think there’s anything more sinister going on, and if the councilor hadn’t been such good friends with the governor, he would have been very happy to let HPD handle this.
They survey the scene once again, but there’s nothing more to see, and they’ve already bagged and tagged all the evidence they could find and sent it to forensics with Jenna, so they make their way across the street to where Chin is questioning someone, probably one of the tattoo artists. They’re just catching the tail end of the conversation, where Chin’s asking for a name and an address if they have any further questions.
“Danny Williams. And I live right here, over the studio. Can I go now? I still have a customer inside.”
Steve stops dead in his tracks and his eyes widen. Surely he can’t have heard that right? Danny Williams? The Danny Williams? Steve has seen his work online and has- as he has to admit somewhat guiltily - even been tracking his Facebook site. The man is a genius, an absolute star in the tattoo scene, and Steve can’t quite believe that he might actually be here. Although he now remembers reading an article some time ago which said it was being rumored that Danny Williams was at present in Hawaii. But as you could never know with the elusive artist - he rarely gives interviews, doesn’t let his picture be taken or published and only takes on customers by recommendation and personal introduction - Steve didn’t take it seriously.
Steve loves his work, the clear lines, the vibrant colors, the sheer graphicness and how he makes the piece speak without any embellishments or whimsical backgrounds, and Steve notices to his embarrassment that he is actually bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and mentally shoving Chin out of the way. He tries to calm down, using the breathing technique he was taught during his SEAL training and telling himself he’s not a fifteen-year-old girl about to meet Justin Bieber, but it’s not really working.
Chin finally steps to the side, and Steve gets his first look at Danny Williams. He dimly notices that the guy is short, not much more than 5’5, yet powerfully built with shoulders that are filling out his shirt nicely, but what arrests him immediately are the clear blue eyes that lock onto his. He doesn’t think too closely about why that might be.
“Mr. Williams? Steve McGarrett, I’m the head of the taskforce. I’m sorry to take up your time, but we need to know if you saw or heard anything yesterday around 11 PM.”
He holds out his hand and Danny takes it in a firm grip, shaking it once and giving him a once-over that most decidedly does not have Steve feel a bit tingly inside, eyes resting briefly on where his tattoos peek out of his sleeves.
“Yeah, sure, I get that. But like I told your colleague here, I didn’t see anything. I was working on some flashes, and I usually never notice anything then. Sorry.”
Danny holds out his arms in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, and Steve manfully resists asking to see the flashes, instead nodding at Chin that he’s got this and waiting until the other has made his way over to Kono who is talking to the two baristas from the coffee shop next door before getting out his phone and showing the picture that Jenna just sent him to the other man.
“Mr. Williams,” he starts, but is almost immediately interrupted.
“Call me Danny. Mr. Williams makes me feel as if I’m my dad.”
Steve blinks a few times, then nods his head.
“Sure, thanks. You can call me Steve. So, Danny, did you perhaps see this man around here? Not yesterday, but perhaps some other time?”
Danny takes the phone out of his hand and looks at the councilor’s picture for a long time in concentration, and Steve does not think about how he would like to smooth that frown line away with his fingers.
“Yeah, I saw him. Three days ago, I guess, in the coffee shop. Not this one here, their hot chocolate is a disaster, but the one in the next street over. I just noticed him because he had this enormous bouquet of red roses, and I kept thinking jeez, he must’ve gotten in big trouble with his girl. Not that I think flowers are cutting it as an apology because honestly, what’s the symbolism you’re expressing here? ‘I’m giving you something that’ll be dead in three days, after that I don’t care anymore and do the same shit again’? Anyway, he was sitting in a booth, with about 50 roses in front of him, and kept fidgeting and glancing at the door all the time. I was sure he’d spill his coffee over his nice suit any moment.”
Danny’s hands are slicing through the air, accompanying his words as if he’s a conductor at the opera, and Steve is kind of mesmerized. He’s so different from what Steve would’ve expected this exceptional artist to be, with his east-coast-accented voice and his many words and his big gestures. Steve gives himself a mental shake, focusing on what was important in that rant and waving Chin and Kono over. He fills them in quickly on the info about the other coffee shop and sends them over there to see if the employees have anything more on the councilor, telling them he’ll meet up with them later at HQ.
“Thank you,” he says, turning back to Danny, and then can’t help blurting out, “Your work is amazing.”
Danny’s eyebrows climb up his forehead, and he crosses his arms over his chest, but remains silent otherwise, so Steve is forced to continue.
“I saw it online and in some magazines. It’s just… it’s so there, so direct, sometimes even downright harsh, but it still has this element of beauty. And it always seems to speak, you know?”
He wants to smack himself because that’s nothing if not utter bullshit, but Danny is smiling now, and hell if it doesn’t make him ridiculously attractive.
“Thanks man. Most people don’t get that. They want the whirls and the waves and all the other background shit and don’t see that the tat should stand on its own and speak for itself. It should tell a story to everyone who sees it. And most don’t let it. See, that’s why I only accept new customers on recommendation from someone I already know. Because if someone came to me and wanted a fucking little star on their ankle because they’re afraid to show the ink, I’d hand their asses to them faster than they can say ‘Old School’! Why even get a tattoo if you’re not willing to show it? All pseudo-rebels who think they’re so nonconformist for getting a tattoo! And don’t get me started on the idiots who just walk into the parlor and don’t even have an idea in their heads! I see it often enough here, and I’m damn happy I don’t have to deal with them. At least one thing my reputation is good for! I’d go crazy if someone told me to ‘just do something, it doesn’t matter’!”
Steve is absolutely fascinated by what Danny’s telling him, and even if he never thought about it like that, even if one of his tats somewhat originated in such a manner, he agrees completely. He is also following Danny’s rapidly waving hands with his eyes again, but now he’s trying to figure out the design on the other’s forearm because it looks great, and he wants to know what it is.
Danny finally stops and rakes a hand through his hair with a slightly sheepish smile on his face, and Steve can now see that it’s an elaborate coffin with two keys crossed over it, and he wants to ask about that, wants to say something intelligent, maybe that he kind of understands what Danny means.
So of course, what comes out of his mouth is, “I really want a tattoo from you.”
Which is the truth, he’s wanted one since he first saw Danny’s work and even more now that he’s met him, but it clearly wasn’t the smartest move because Danny’s face closes off again.
“No. Like I said, I only take on customers that are personally introduced to me by someone I trust. And I don’t know you. So no. I hope you find the murderer, but I have to get back to work now.”
With that he turns on his heel and heads back into the parlor, and Steve is left berating himself for not keeping his mouth in check.
---
However, Steve is nothing if not persistent, and over the next few weeks he shows up at the tattoo parlor whenever he finds the time. During his first few visits, Danny doesn’t even come out to see him, so he talks some to Noa and learns that the owner of the shop was only too happy to rent one of his rooms out to the other artist. It’s very good for the business, Noa tells him, even if Danny doesn’t accept regular customers and can be downright abrasive to them, calling them brainless, mainstream-following sycophants from time to time. It’s obvious Danny likes using big words.
After about five weeks, when they’re having a calm week with barely any cases and Steve appears for the fourth time in as many days, Danny finally comes out into the open front of the studio to talk to him. And he is - naturally - preceded by his voice.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Are you some kind of crazy stalker-person? I thought you were some sort of cop! What are you doing here? What do you want? I told you I’m not going to ink you!”
“I thought we could have a coffee and talk some more about tattoos.”
Danny stops mid-wave and stares at him for a long second, then huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.
“You’re not going to stop, are you? You’re going to keep coming, right? You know what, whatever! Fine, let’s have some coffee. Or not because I don’t drink coffee, but I’ll have a tea. Come on, go, go, what are you waiting for? You’re the one who’s basically kidnapping me here, so don’t just stand there.”
And that’s how they end up in Danny’s favorite coffee shop, talking for nearly three hours about everything from tattoos to the abomination that is pineapple on pizza. Steve learns that Danny got his first tat in secret when he was sixteen, in a backroom somewhere in Newark. That he was immediately hooked and wanted to know everything he could about this special art form. That his hands shook like crazy when he did his first piece and that the lines came out all crooked. And he learns that Danny is only in Hawaii because his ex-girlfriend, a stage actress, got a good offer from the Theatre Center and moved here with their daughter, and Danny wanted to stay close to his little girl.
“I should be grateful we get along well, Rach and I. Because, you know, it wouldn’t have been easy getting access to Gracie otherwise. There’s still lots and lots of prejudices about tattoo artists, and it’d kill me if I couldn’t see her. She’s my life, you know?” he says, playing idly with his paper cup, a fond, open smile spreading over his face.
Steve checks his urge to reach over and cover Danny’s hand with his own, but he can’t help the… the… yes okay, they’re butterflies, the stupid things fluttering around in his stomach.
Later, when he’s back home and sitting on the lanai with a cool beer, Steve has to admit to himself that he might be in some serious trouble. Now that he knows Danny a bit better, the instant attraction he felt from the very beginning has turned into something… more, something that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. He still wants nothing more than to be tattooed by Danny, but now it’s not just about getting a piece from an amazing artist. It’s about getting a piece from Danny, about having Danny wield the tattoo gun, letting Danny mark him in that truly intimate way.
And he wants even more, but he’s not sure that’s something he might have a chance of getting.
---
A few weeks and quite some visits later, when Steve’s at the studio yet again, watching Danny sketch something while they’re sitting in the little lounge room, the other suddenly puts down his pencil, looks up and pins Steve with his blue eyes.
“Alright, let’s see them.”
Steve is confused for a moment, wondering if he’s again missed something which happens quite frequently in conversations with Danny. But Danny’s just rolling his eyes and making ‘go on’ motions with his hands.
“Your tats. I still haven’t seen them, and now I want to know what they are.”
To his mortification Steve feels himself blushing, but still rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, somehow not comfortable with the thought of simply taking it off. Danny comes over and sits down next to him on the couch, taking a hold of his arm and leaning in close to get a good look. Steve holds his breath, fighting down his immediate reaction to Danny’s touch and keeping himself very still so that he doesn’t do something so monumentally stupid as kissing Danny. Fortunately he can rely on the other to fill what could otherwise be an awkward silence.
“Giger? Honestly, Steve? Please, please tell me this is not an expression of your mental state. Although… It might actually fit. You are certifiable after all. Don’t think I have forgotten your crazy stunt from last week! What even was that? Okay, the guy grabbed that lady’s handbag, but you… You could’ve just run after him. But no, Mr. I’m-the-head-of-the-taskforce-to-end-all-taskforces has to vault over the hood of a car and tackle him into a shop-window! This is not normal behavior, Steven. And okay, I admit the Giger might be an accurate expression of the minefield that seems to be your mind.”
Danny’s right hand is stabbing at the air again, but his left is still on Steve’s arm, and his thumb is stroking the skin just beneath the tattoo gently. It’s all Steve can do not to break out into a full-body shiver.
“He would’ve gotten away, Danno.”
Danny glares at him, but doesn’t say anything about the nickname which Steve counts as a win. He overheard it when Danny was on the phone to his daughter once and simply had to use it to see what would happen. That Danny seems halfway okay with it now… perhaps it means something.
“Say,” Danny starts, looking away from Steve towards the window, but still not taking his hand off Steve’s arm, “if - and don’t get me wrong, this is completely hypothetical - if I were to decide I’d tattoo you… what would you want?”
Steve sucks in a sharp breath and reaches out instinctively to circle Danny’s wrist. Their eyes meet, and Steve can almost feel the electricity between them.
“You’d…?”
“Purely hypothetical, Steve!”
He doesn’t even have to think about it.
“A dragon.”
He lets go of Danny, afraid of what he’ll do otherwise, wanting, but still unsure if he’s getting this right. Danny’s looking thoughtful, a sparkle lighting up his eyes.
“Wow, I could definitely see that for you. And… and where?”
“I thought here,” Steve says, pointing to the right side of his chest and motioning downwards, “because I wanted it to be real and… bigger. I was in Asia a lot, and once, I met this old woman in a village in the mountains. I… I wasn’t really well, and she took care of me. She had this… this beautiful scroll of a dragon hanging on the wall. It was her pride and joy, and I was looking at it from the bed the whole time. She told me that it’s been in her family for generations, that it’s her connection to her past and that the dragon is a protector of that. And… well, I’ve wanted one since then.”
Danny is completely focused on him, and it’s a heady feeling, having all of that attention to himself alone. Steve is almost blindsided by the wave of desire that hits him, wants to know what it’d be like to have that attention on him under different circumstances, and barely catches Danny’s next words.
“That’s a powerful memory, Steve. And yeah, it would fit… The protector, courage, strength… raw power. Of course, also wisdom which you could use a bit more of. The placing would be ideal. We could go till here,” his hand skims over Steve’s thigh and stops just above his knee, “hypothetically of course.”
Steve can hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears, feels his skin tingling where Danny’s touching him, and is just about to throw all of his caution to the wind and lean forward when Danny looks at the clock on the wall and the spell is broken.
“Oh, sorry. I have a customer in ten minutes. Gotta go, Steve, see you later.”
And he picks up his sketchbook and leaves the room. Steve pounds the couch in frustration and then tips his head back and glares at the ceiling.
---
Steve is sitting in the lounge room again, waiting for Danny to finish with his customer. The last case was hard, and he hasn’t been able to come here for almost three weeks which has been the longest time he hasn’t seen Danny in three months. He honestly wasn’t prepared for how much he would miss Danny, and he didn’t know how much of a constant the other had become for him until he didn’t get to see him about four out of seven days.
When Danny enters the room with a smile on his face and some papers under his arm, it’s all Steve can do not to jump up, hug him and never let go again.
“Steve! You alright? If I hadn’t gotten the occasional text, I’d have worried you’d fallen off your surfboard and drowned.”
He’s spreading the papers over the table, still talking non-stop, and Steve relaxes for the first time in nineteen days. Danny is such a presence that the dark thoughts usually accompanying Steve after a case like this one just don’t find any room and disappear, and he is suddenly desperate to have this all the time. To have Danny in his house, chasing away the bitter memories, have him in his life and in his heart.
Danny’s voice shakes him out of his musings, and Steve berates himself for his mushiness, he has to be more tired than he thought.
“Steve! Hello! Earth to super-SEAL! You still with me?”
Steve nods and finally looks at the papers… and his eyes fly to Danny’s in surprise. They’re sketches of dragons. Dragons in varying poses with varying expressions, some bigger some smaller, some with color and some without.
“Danny? What…?”
Danny rubs his head and looks away, almost as if he’s embarrassed.
“Well, I thought about it, and I really like the idea of the dragon for you. And I’ve decided that I’ll not so hypothetically do it. I thought we could talk about the design today and maybe start next week. You’re aware it’ll take quite some time, right?”
Steve knows he’s staring at Danny with his mouth hanging open, but he can’t help it, he’s struck dumb. He’s almost given up on this, and now Danny is handing it to him on a silver platter. And because Steve always was a man of action rather than words, he finally gives in to one of his many urges, gets up and envelops Danny in a hug, holding him close for a long moment.
“Thank you.”
There’s really nothing more he can say, and when Danny’s arms come up to wrap around his waist, he almost sags in relief.
“It’s alright, you goof,” Danny nearly whispers, fondness coloring his voice, before pushing away and being all business-like. “And now let’s get this show on the road.”
They spend a fun two hours mapping out the details of Steve’s new tattoo, and Steve is blown away by how much they just click, how they understand each other perfectly, and how an absolutely amazing piece of art is emerging under Danny’s hands.
“It shouldn’t be anything fancy,” Danny says, tracing the design with his finger over Steve’s pecs, down his stomach and onto his thigh, “just the dragon, nothing of all that knick-knack in the background. And I’m certainly not doing any of that multi-colored stuff some of the others insist on. Black, perhaps some red and yellow for the belly and the ridge on the back. Nothing else. You okay with that?”
Steve thinks he’d be okay with anything Danny might suggest, if he just keeps on touching him, but he actually likes the idea a lot. The sketch alone Danny whips up looks awesome, and he can’t imagine what it’ll be like when they actually start.
---
A week later it’s finally happening. Steve is lying on the chair in Danny’s workroom while Danny is transferring the contours to his skin with the pen. He’s almost shivering in anticipation, watching Danny’s hands as they’re flying over his chest and then meeting the other’s eyes when he stops.
“You ready? We’ll see how far we get with the outlines today. Now listen. You tell me when the pain gets too much, alright? I don’t want any macho-bullshit from you, or any I’m-a-tough-SEAL-trained-to-withstand-torture, you hear me? These are some sensitive areas we’re covering. If I think you’re feigning it, babe, I’ll stop.”
A jolt runs through Steve at the pet name, and a smile spreads over his face. He knows he’s not the most astute where emotions are concerned, but when he looks at last week and now this, he thinks he’s reading the signals right. Danny raises his eyebrow, and he nods quickly, willing to agree to anything as long as the other just starts already.
When Danny’s gloved hand settles just beneath his ribs, when the needle touches him for the first time, it’s as if he’s found something he didn’t even know he was looking for, as if a connection is being forged between them. It’s a thrilling thought, and he only hopes he’s not the only one feeling this.
They fall into conversation easily as Danny works, it’s like all the other times they’ve talked, and still it’s also more. Danny tells him about the time he spent in Japan as a student of Horisaga III., about how he had to kneel for eight hours each day, four weeks straight, doing dry runs with the wooden handle, before he was allowed to do his first tebori. To learn the proper discipline, as his master had said.
“I’m sure that’s what finished off my knee completely. I hurt it in high school, tore the ACL. I had to get surgery when I came back from Japan, and now it always twinges when the weather changes. Stupid, right?”
Steve doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, it’s something about Danny, and as far as he is concerned he’s happy to learn everything he can about Danny.
The dragon’s head emerges slowly while Danny talks about his family, about the rift his chosen career put between him and his parents for a few years, about his siblings and how they supported him until his mom and dad came round.
And while he traces one of the coils of the dragon’s body, it’s Steve who begins to talk. He didn’t think he could tell another person about this, but it all comes spilling out. His mom’s death, his dad retreating, sending him and Mary away, joining the Navy, and finally his dad’s murder and Victor Hesse. Danny listens to him, really listens, and it’s as if a huge weight lifts off him.
When Danny finishes and puts some saran wrap over what they’ve done today, Steve can’t deny that it hurts, but he also feels lighter than he has been in a very long time.
---
By their third session they have fallen into a rhythm of some kind. Danny outlines what he plans to do, then he starts, and they just talk. About everything and nothing. Grace, some of the more ‘moronic’ customers that walk into the studio, Steve’s cases, his work on the house. After about two hours they take a break, and Danny shows Steve the flashes he’s working on while they’re drinking tea. Steve’s never felt that close to another person, and he doesn’t know for how much longer he’ll be able to hold back, Danny’s lingering, sometimes gently stroking touches slowly but surely driving him crazy.
They’ve finished with the outlines, and when Danny stops for the day there are already some scales colored in. The design’s now gotten so big that it’s not enough to tape the clear film to his front, and when Danny’s standing in front of him, holding out the roll and telling him to turn around so that he can wrap the film completely around him, Steve knows what’ll follow. He’s avoided showing his back to Danny till now, but it was bound to come out soon.
And sure enough there’s a sharp intake of breath, followed by Danny’s slightly choked off voice.
“A tramp stamp? Really, babe? When did you get that? How? And…,” Danny’s hand lands on his back, probably right over the tattoo, and then Steve feels Danny’s warm breath as he’s leaning in close to get a good look, “it’s not been that expertly done. It’s symmetrical enough, but the lines are really crooked, and it’s not been filled in properly.”
His fingers are ghosting over the design now, and Steve leans back into them, wanting more of the contact.
“It was stupid. It was a dare, and I wanted to be cool. I know what you’re going to say, tattoos shouldn’t be done just like that, but it happened and now it’s a part of me.”
The fingers still, and for a moment Steve is desperately afraid that he’s ruined everything. He knows how important his art is to Danny, how serious he takes it, and saying he got a tat on a dare goes against everything Danny believes in. But then Danny continues, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower than Steve’s ever heard it before.
“We’ll have to do something about that when we’re finished with the dragon, babe.”
There’s a small pause, then Steve feels a kiss being brushed across his shoulder. And that’s it, the last of his control finally deserts him, and he whirls around, not caring about the clear film clinging to him awkwardly, puts a hand on the nape of Danny’s neck and draws him in, kissing him firmly on the mouth. As first kisses go, it’s absolutely perfect, Danny opens up under him easily, and Steve can’t get enough of him, burying his hand in his hair and holding him close, and as far as he’s concerned, he’s never letting Danny go again.
But his tattoo obviously has other ideas because as soon as Danny comes into contact with it, Steve jumps back with a small cry of pain. He’d almost forgotten about it in the rush of finally having Danny’s lips on his.
Danny looks at him in surprise for a second, then starts laughing and gathers up the clear film again, wrapping it deftly around Steve’s torso and taping the ends together.
“Sorry, babe. You see how it is, the tattoo always comes first. Guess we’ll still have to wait until it heals before we do anything else. And there’s really no need to pout.”
Steve surely isn’t pouting, but Danny is still grinning at him, and when he steps close, without touching this time, puts a hand on Steve’s cheek and leans up to kiss him softly, it’s all right anyway.
---
Steve loves these quiet mornings, when he’s got nowhere to be and nothing to do, and can just lounge in bed until the sun baths the room in golden light. He normally doesn’t like being lazy like that, is usually up at the crack of dawn for his morning swim, but this? This is so much better, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
He props his head up on his hand and watches Danny sleep, sprawled on his back, head turned towards him and taking up more space than Steve would’ve ever thought possible for someone eight inches smaller than him. Danny is still as he never is when he’s awake, and he looks serene and so damn beautiful that it’s almost too much. Steve reaches out with his other hand, traces the panther on Danny’s upper arm with the lightest of touches, and wonders how he ever got so lucky.
Danny mumbles in his sleep and shifts slightly, and Steve withdraws his hand, getting up from the bed and turning towards the mirror hanging on the wardrobe. They’ve finished the dragon just last week, and he still can’t stop looking at it in awe whenever he gets the chance. It’s absolutely stunning, coiling over the full length of his right side down to just above his knee, holding a crystal ball that’s surrounding his nipple in one of its claws. It’s strong, yet graceful. It’s everything he wanted and more than he ever thought he’d get.
And Steve doesn’t just see the dragon, he also sees them. He sees Danny and his brilliant passion, sees his handwriting, his sheer personality, all over it, sees his story in the curls of the long body. And he sees himself, sees his own struggles, the pain of his story that he shared with Danny in the lines of the dragon’s face, but also the happiness he’s found so unexpectedly and the anticipation for what’s yet to come. It’s all there.
Steve is so lost in his thoughts that he jumps in surprise at the arms wrapping around his waist, and then Danny’s face appears in the mirror, peeking around Steve’s shoulder. Danny doesn’t say a word, only follows mirror-Steve’s gaze to the dragon and then lets his hand trail over it slowly.
With the way Danny is looking at him, Steve is sure his partner can even read his mind now, and he is proven right by Danny’s next words.
“Wear your heart on your skin, babe. I think you’re doing that pretty well here.”
Steve leans back against Danny’s chest and closes his eyes, letting the breeze coming in from the open window envelop them both. Yes, wearing your heart on your skin, not hiding it away as he’s been doing for way too long.
He turns around and kisses Danny, telling him everything he doesn’t yet quite have the words for, and then drags him back to bed.
It’s still early, and they have all the time in the world.
The End
*******************************************************
Wear your heart on your skin in this life. - Sylvia Plath