comment fic dump!
Here they are, 5566 words in 12 stories:
Stay This Little: Supernatural. Dean and Sam, never grow up
Dean is seven when the thought strikes him.
Sammy is curled in the middle of the bed they're supposed to be sharing, little fists clenched in the sheets as he snores away. Dean's not sleeping; Dad's out, Hunting something that Dean can't pronounce, something small and fast and deadly. He'd left Dean with the usual instructions - stay in the room, don't answer the phone, watch after your brother - and he'd gone, just like always. So Dean feeds Sammy and makes him take a bath and puts him in bed, and then he sits in the big ugly armchair in the bedroom and lays the shotgun across his lap and doesn't sleep.
He just watches Sammy for a while, letting his mind wander. He thinks about the thing that Dad's Hunting, how Dad said to call Pastor Jim if he wasn't home by Tuesday. Pastor Jim is the only one whose phone number Dean remembers - 785-309-8518 - and he hopes he'll never, ever have to use it. So far, so good, Dad always says when Dean tells him that.
Dean is just sitting there, fingers stroking the smooth metal of the shotgun, when he looks up and sees that Sammy's awake, big hazel eyes staring in his direction. Dean shifts so he can put the gun down, keeping it in easy reach but far enough away that it won't scare Sammy. "What's up?"
"I had a scary dream," Sammy says, looking like he's trying not to cry. "There was a monster."
"What kind of monster?" Dean asks carefully. He's learned to pay attention to dreams; sometimes, Dad says, they're more than just dreams, sometimes they're warnings.
"Like the one in Scooby Doo," Sam whispers, and Dean relaxes into the seat. "A big blob monster with red spots on it, and it was chasing us."
And that's when the thought strikes Dean: Sammy doesn't know, doesn't get it, still doesn't understand that there are real, actual monsters to be afraid of.
All Dean wants in that moment is for Sammy to never have to know, for him to grow up and think that the blob monster in Scooby Doo is the scariest thing out there. For him to not have to think about witches and demons and spirits. For him to not have to sit up at night with a shotgun, watching, guarding.
Dean holds on to that thought as he crawls into the bed and hugs Sammy close. "Don't worry," he says, voice determined. "I'll protect you."
Steve/Danny: Coconut milk.
There are four cans in Steve's pantry, and that's the sum total of the food that Danny has at his disposal, three cans of chicken broth and a can of coconut milk.
"I don't even know what I could do with this," he gripes as he grabs the coconut milk from the shelf and turns back into the kitchen, where Steve's lounging against the counter with a grin on his face.
"Plenty of things to do with coconut milk, Danno," he says easily.
"Yeah?" Danny challenges. "Is it a good additive for chicken broth, are we going to have coconut milk chicken broth soup, Steven, because that's all that you have in this sad, pathetic excuse for a pantry-"
Steve straightens from his slouch against the counter and takes the three steps that bring him right up against Danny's side, and Danny stops talking, because Steve's got that glint in his eye that spells trouble. "You can use it for soup," he responds as he plucks it out of Danny's hand and sets it on the counter. "I was figuring on takeout tonight, though. I actually ordered just before you got here."
"Ordered - Steven, we have talked about this," Danny says in a pained voice. "You are not to order food for me, because you always, always end up getting me something that I hate and I end up eating the Hot Pockets out of your freezer. Except there are no Hot Pockets in the freezer right now, are there, because you ordered that Spam thing the other day and I finished them-"
"Food will be here in fifteen," Steve says offhandedly, and Danny notices that his hand has been creeping closer and closer to the button on Danny's khakis. "Just enough time."
Danny half-considers slapping Steve's hand away as he thumbs at the button before Steve sinks to his knees like he's made of liquid, smooth and easy, and he looks up the line of Danny's body as he drags the zipper down. Danny quickly decides that yeah, this might make up for whatever weird dish Steve's ordered him this time, if only because he'll have the remembered taste of himself in Steve's mouth while he's forcing it down.
Steve's mouthing him through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs and Danny groans as he tangles his fingers into Steve's hair. "Get on with it, babe," he says, voice a little more needy than maybe he'd like it to be, but Steve tugs at his underwear and puts his mouth to damn good use, bobbing up and down and sucking and swiping his tongue across the head of Danny's cock, and Christ, he's fucking good at this.
Steve's going easy on him, drawing it out and making it fucking unbearable, ignoring Danny's attempts to speed him up. Finally, finally, though, he gets a hand involved and hollows his cheeks out and hums in the back of his throat, and Danny slips right over that edge with a keening cry. Steve mouths at him through his orgasm until Danny pushes his head back, and that's when the doorbell rings.
"You planned that," he accuses, not really caring. "You timed it."
Steve's giving him a lazy smile as he stands, and there's no hiding the bulge in his cargo pants. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket, pretending he doesn't have a raging hard-on, and walks out of the kitchen.
Danny takes a minute to breathe before he tucks himself in and rights his clothing. By the time he steps into the living room, the delivery guy is gone, and there's a pizza box on the table. Steve's sitting on the couch, smirking at him from the couch, and Danny makes his way over and sits right in Steve's space, sticking his tongue into Steve's mouth to chase the last remnants of his own taste down his throat and putting his hand in Steve's pants. It only takes a minute or two of Danny's hand jerking him, Danny's tongue doing filthy things in his mouth, before Steve's groaning and shaking.
Danny stands and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands, and when he returns to the couch, Steve's leaning against the back with his eyes closed and a blissful little smile on his face. Danny rolls his eyes and reaches for the pizza box, resigning himself to picking off the pineapple and ham. He stares down for a minute when he lifts the lid, though, because that's just dough and sauce and mozz, and he blinks and looks up at Steve, who's directing that dopey grin right at him.
"I'm out of Hot Pockets, remember?" he says as he stands and heads into the bathroom himself. When he sits back down on the couch a minute later, Danny's still staring at the pizza in the box, and Steve frowns. "Don't tell me I got it wrong," he says warily, and Danny has to turn and kiss him again and again until they're both breathless and smiling and laughing a little, and by that time the pizza is cold, but neither of them cares.
Steve/Danny/Chin, Danny in the middle
Danny's sure he wants this, yeah, he's positive. He's just a little nervous, which is completely rational, because he's had Steve and he's had Chin but he's never had Steve and Chin and it's a lot to take in, literally and figuratively.
They're easing him into it, at least, working him open with their fingers as he pants and writhes and shoves back against the fingers stroking inside him. Three of Steve's fingers pump in and out slowly while Chin keeps two rubbing inside, and it's the fullest Danny's ever felt. That'll change soon, he knows, sooner than soon, because Steve and Chin have reached some sort of unspoken agreement, slipping their fingers from his body. He doesn't have time to protest, though, because Steve's settling against the headboard and Chin's helping Danny up, helping him move, helping him sit with his chest to Steve's front.
"Ready?" Steve asks, and Danny thinks again about how gentle Steve is when they're in bed, like all of the care he doesn't show during the day is saved for this. Danny nods and lifts his hips, lowering himself down onto Steve. It's easy, and Danny would be surprised at how loose he is if he hadn't spent the last considerable amount of time being stretched and opened. He sinks all the way down easily and steadies himself.
"Good," he breathes out, leaning the last bit forward and catching Steve's mouth with his own. He can't stop the moan that rises from his chest when Chin shifts behind him and slowly runs his fingers down Danny's back, not stopping until his fingertips are pressed right at Danny's entrance. Chin carefully eases a finger inside, and Danny breaks his mouth from Steve's and half-closes his eyes, letting his breath out slowly.
One of Steve's hands finds Danny's on the bed and laces their fingers together as Chin pushes another finger in. Danny tilts his head forward to rest against Steve's as Chin uses his free hand to grasp Danny's other hand, and Danny holds on tight and concentrates on breathing as Chin adds yet another finger.
"You okay?" Steve asks, concern and affection and barely-restrained need, and Danny wonders what this must feel like for him, buried in Danny's ass and still feeling Chin's fingers rubbing up and down his cock. Incredible, Danny decides as Chin pulls his fingers out and shifts again. Danny nods to answer Steve's question and leans against Steve's body, lifting a little even as he rests his forehead against Steve's shoulder. Steve's free hand comes up to curl around the back of his neck, warm and familiar and comforting, as Chin slowly eases in beside Steve.
"Oh, fuck," Danny pants into Steve's shoulder. "Fuck, fuck, Jesus."
"Too much?" Chin asks, gripping Danny's hand in his own, completely still even though he's half-in and half-not. "I can-"
"Keep going," Danny gasps. "Jesus fuck, Chin, please-" And then he can't speak, can't come up with a single word, because Chin's inside him and Steve's inside him and there's no room left even for thought.
"Danny," Steve breathes, like his name is something precious, almost like Danny remembers praying. He feels Steve's mouth along his neck, across his shoulder, and it grounds him. Finally, he raises his head from Steve's shoulder and leans his body back into Chin. The movement makes a multitude of noises fall from all three mouths.
All told, it doesn't take much; Danny rocks a little, Chin thrusts a little, Steve stays as still as he can manage, and when Chin reaches around and wraps his hand around Danny's cock, he arches his back and comes, messy and hard, all over Steve's chest. He slumps forward into Steve, changing the angle again, and hears the sounds of Steve and Chin kissing over his shoulder as he pants between them.
Chin moans behind him before too much longer, and Danny can feel everything, how Chin stiffens a little more inside him before he spurts, how his hand trembles where he's still holding Danny's, how Steve squeezes Danny's other hand and pants into his ear as Chin slides out.
"I'm fine, babe," Danny says before Steve can ask again, and okay, maybe he's not exactly tracking, but he's so fine it's not even a question. Steve catches his mouth and kisses him again, tongue and teeth and heat, before cradling Danny to his body and leaning a little further back. He starts thrusting in earnest, up and up and up, and Danny licks his way back into Steve's mouth as Chin curls up beside them and snakes his free hand between their bodies to tweak at Steve's nipple. And then Steve is gasping into Danny's mouth, his eyes are fluttering closed, and Danny settles his hips down as Steve pushes in once more, coming with a cry.
Someone, probably Chin, cleans them up and finds the sheet on the floor. Danny's too fucked-out to pay attention to anything past how his hands are finally freed, long fingers disentangling from his own, and he makes a protesting sound in the back of his throat.
"Right here," Steve murmurs, wrapping an arm around Danny's body and drawing him in close so Danny can tuck into his chest. Chin curls around his back a moment later, and they drift to sleep, sated and happy and together.
Knees: Steve/Danny, after all that ranting about upholding the rules & the law & common decency, turns out Danny fantasizes about semi-public sex
"Honest to God," Steve snaps mid-Danny-rant, "Christ, Danny, what do I have to do to shut you up? Seriously, man, I get it, you're pissed. Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth right here to get you to stop talking?"
And he means it as a joke, he really does, but he's trained to notice things, so notice he does. Things like the way Danny inhales sharply, the way his eyes blow a little wide, the way he actually shuts his mouth and swallows like it's a chore.
"Really?" Steve isn't sure he can keep the grin from spreading across his face, so he doesn't even try. "You gotta be - Danny, really, sex in public?"
"No," Danny says immediately, and he's bullshitting, completely and totally bullshitting. "Fuck you, McGarrett, let's just get back to the office and-"
"Oh, no," Steve replies, dropping his voice as he takes a step towards Danny. "Nope, because this, this right here, is interesting. Something I'd like to explore." As he talks, he's crowding into Danny's space, grabbing him by the hips, walking him back until he's pressed against the wall.
"Stop-" Danny tries, but his eyes are wide and dark and Steve's pressed right up against him, can feel that this is turning Danny on.
"You really want me to stop?" Steve says, quiet and low, right into Danny's ear, gratified when Danny shudders against him. "Or would you rather I put you on your knees and fuck your face?"
And that's it, Danny's thrusting his hips forward into Steve's thigh, and Steve's glancing around for something they can duck behind, because there's public sex and then there's the middle of a fucking warehouse.
"Come on," he tells Danny roughly as he spies a door leading to an office. Danny follows right behind as Steve walks in, shuts the door, closes the blinds, and turns around, and Jesus Christ, Danny's already on his knees.
"What?" Danny asks in a strangled sort of voice after a few seconds where all Steve can do is stare. "If you changed your mind-"
"Not hardly," Steve counters, unfastening his belt and pants and drawing himself out quickly. He walks up to Danny, who's staring up at him from between Steve's thighs, who's leaning his head forward to rub his cheek against Steve's dick, who's licking his way from base to head and taking him in messily, fast and hot and sweet. Steve groans, can't help it, doesn't even want to, and Danny stills as he glances up, mouth wrapped perfectly around the head of Steve's cock.
"What, what," Steve gasps out, but Danny's tugging on his hips and Steve thrusts forward a little. Danny's eyelids flutter closed with a hum that Steve feels from tip to toe, and that's when Steve loses the last vestiges of control over the situation, grabbing Danny's head and thrusting in over and over. He's vaguely aware of Danny's shaking hands going to his own pants, stroking his own cock as Steve tosses his head back, and then everything's a blur as he comes and comes.
They're both utterly and completely wrecked by the time Steve sinks to the floor beside Danny. They're definitely going to have to stop for a shower and a change before heading back to the office, that's for damn sure, but Steve cannot find it within himself to be upset about that. Instead, he grins at Danny.
"If I'd known that would shut you up-"
"Shut you up," Danny mutters, which doesn't even make sense - but okay, he's kissing Steve like it's going out of style, so maybe Steve can let the matter drop.
Dance: Steve/Danny, for their wedding, Steve wore a tie just for Danny. And on their honeymoon too.
The wedding is small, private, kind of beautiful in a way his first one wasn't. Danny and Steve are both in tuxes; Chin stands with Danny in a dark gray suit, and Kono stands with Steve in a matching dress. Grace holds one of Danny's hands and one of Steve's through the entire ceremony, looking up at them with a smile on her face that rivals the sun, and Danny has Steve's other hand as they stand on the beach. Mary's there, and Danny's sisters Em and Lindsey had been able to fly out. The most surprising guest is Rachel, but she's smiling at Danny like she hasn't in years, soft and affectionate and happy, and it seems fitting in a way he can't quite describe.
When the ceremony is over, Kono drags everyone back up to the house and puts her iPod into the speaker dock that Steve had installed. There's music and food and it feels really, really nice. Mary's dancing with her date, a guy Danny's never met, and Em's swaying with her husband Mark. Danny's got a mouthful of God-knows-what - Kono had put it on his plate with a wide smile when he had asked what it was - when he feels a warm hand on his neck. Steve smiles down at him when he turns his face.
"Dance with me," he says softly, and it's that tone of voice that Danny will never be able to say no to, kind of vulnerable in a way that Steve rarely is. Danny swallows and puts his plate down and follows Steve to the lanai.
It's a little awkward - they're both guys, for one, so there's the issue of where their hands are supposed to go - but they figure it out and start to move to the music. Danny leans his head on Steve's chest and smiles as one of Steve's hands wanders up his back and rests against his shoulderblade. It's somewhere between dancing and hugging, and Danny kind of likes it.
And speaking of things he likes- "Nice tie," Danny says, not bothering to tilt his head up. It's not that loud, and Steve can hear a tree falling in the woods on the mainland anyway.
Steve chuckles softly into Danny's hair. "Wore that just for you, Danno."
"I figured," Danny grins against Steve's chest. "Now, if I could just convince you to wear it more often-"
"Hmm," Steve says, like he's actually thinking about it. "Maybe I'll wear it on our honeymoon, huh? You and me and a hotel room, wearing a tie and nothing else-"
"Jesus," Danny mutters, pulling back to look up at his husband. "Are you trying to kill me here?"
Danny can pretty much feel it to his feet, the way Steve smiles at him, goofy and ridiculous and totally, totally hot. Steve leans in and Danny leans up and their lips meet, slow and sweet, again and again.
They're not dancing any more, but neither of them cares.
Reward: Steve/Danny, it's completely geeky but he doesn't even care - he's gonna prove to Steve that he CAN get to Triple Banana
Danny's concentrating so hard that his tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth. His hands are moving freakishly fast, moving with complete precision, and it's obvious that this is not his first time playing, nor his second.
And sure, he's got to be good at it - he's been at it for more than half an hour on the same quarter, tapping and tugging at the joystick, but Steve's not looking at the screen at all. No, he's looking at Danny, at the little frown on his face, at the crease in his brow, at the way his entire body stays perfectly still but for his fingers.
Danny's face breaks into a triumphant smirk as he finally leans back form the machine. "Triple banana," he says smugly, "bitch."
"You sure showed me," Steve says, trying for unaffected, pretty sure he's giving it away with how he can't stop grinning. "You win."
"Damn right I do," Danny replies, taking a step away from the console and standing in front of Steve. "Now I get my prize."
"I can probably find you a nice pencil topper," Steve says thoughtfully, grinning down at Danny, who smirks back up as he wraps his hand around the back of Steve's neck and tugs him down.
"Had something different in mind," he says against Steve's mouth, and if Danny wants to reward both of them, Steve's not complaining.
Instructions: Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, while whispering to Danny how to escape the predicament they're in, Steve makes sure to whisper I love you
They're pressed together, front-to-back, Steve's arm around his waist, mouth on Danny's ear. They've stood like this before, Steve whispering dirty things while Danny tried not to squirm, but this - this is different.
"When we kick the doors open," Steve whispers, feather-soft in his ear, "duck right. There's a door there, it'll take you outside-"
"Fuck you," Danny replies, still intense for all it's a whisper. "Fuck you and your hero complex very much if you think I'm letting you go in there by yourself-"
"-and I'll follow," Steve continues smoothly, as if he hadn't heard Danny at all. The hand he has resting on Danny's hip squeezes lightly. "Even I'm not that insane, Danno."
"Sometimes you make me wonder," Danny grumbles. "What with the breaking and entering while our suspect isn't home, the shoving us in a closet when the guy comes back without notice-"
"Ready?" Steve asks, breathing the word low in Danny's ear as he sets his foot against the inside of the closet door.
"Sure, yeah, go right," Danny sighs, grabbing Steve's hand with his own and threading their fingers together. There's only so far he trusts that Steve isn't actually planning on taking off after their suspect.
"Right," Steve agrees. "I love you," he adds, and then he kicks the door down and launches out the doorway to the right, and if they're both smiling like giant goofs when they get back to the Camaro, well, nobody asks why.
Cooties: Danny and Grace, dealing with Grace's first crush.
The second Danny figures it out, it's like a lightswitch being thrown. It's like his brain being thrown, like flipping the switch blew out the bulb, because Gracie is his baby and she's too young to have Those Kinds Of Feelings. She will continue to be too young for the next fifteen years or so, Danny thinks, but she's really too young right now.
But she keeps chattering on and on about Tommy, and really, she had to go and pick the pathological liar to have her first no-holds-barred crush on, great, this does not bode well. But right now, that's not his worry, not his main concern, because Grace is talking dejectedly now, and Danny would gnaw his own arm off if it meant never hearing her use that tone again.
"I just want to be his friend," she says mournfully, like the world might end if Tommy doesn't like her.
"What do you mean, you're his friend, of course you're his friend," Danny interjects as he navigates his way to the exit. "Why wouldn't you be his friend?"
"He says I have cooties," Grace explains in that same sad voice.
"You do not, no daughter of mine has anything so gross, Monkey. You know what, he has cooties, Tommy has cooties, you don't want to be his friend anyway if he's got cooties, do you?"
Grace seems to brighten at what Danny considers some pretty pointless babbling. "Yeah," she agrees, and now she's talking about Kelia and Mina and something they did on the playground, and Danny takes a huge mental sigh of relief.
He wonders how long he's got before the cooties trick stops working. He hopes it's longer than he's thinking.
Longer: Lorne/Parrish, The day he died.
WARNING: DEATHFIC.
This, Evan thinks, this was never what he thought would happen. This was never supposed to be his exit.
He had always expected to go down in battle - over the Middle East, maybe, fighting on the ground. And then he'd been pulled into the Stargate program, and it had been the Unas or the Wraith or the Replicators or the Genii, a million ways to die at his doorstep every day. He had honestly never thought he'd make it back from the Pegasus Galaxy.
But somehow, somehow he had; he'd been surprised to find himself pushing fifty and knocking on the door to his next promotion - general, incredibly enough, and he'd never thought that would happen, either - and when they told him he was being promoted and reassigned, he found himself on Earth without a clue as to how he was supposed to live there.
But live he had - he'd lived and he'd loved and he'd built a life, one with a man he adored, and when he'd retired they'd moved to the mountains. The air there was better for David's lungs, so Evan hadn't hesitated.
David had healed, or hadn't gotten any worse, at least; they've been here for almost twenty years now. They're old - there's no doubt about that; David will be eighty-two in the fall, and Evan's just turned eighty-one.
He won't make it to eighty-two, he knows, and he knows that he's oddly okay with that as he looks up at David from the bed they've shared here for twenty long, beautiful years. It doesn't hurt, this gradual dimming of his senses, the way he can't move his limbs. He's felt like he's been living on borrowed time since he left Atlantis; this isn't what he expected, but he can't be angry about what he's been given.
He can feel his breathing getting heavier, can feel the strain it's putting on him with each inhalation, and he flicks his eyes around, searching for David.
"I'm here," he hears, right in his ear, and David's hand is a warm, slight pressure against his own.
"Love you," Evan breathes out, and then he closes his eyes.
Anywhere But Here: written for a stargateland challenge where you had to do what a character was thinking during a 'terrible but tedious event.'
He thinks of somewhere warm, somewhere green, somewhere with family and friends and laughter, somewhere that's not here, trapped in the wreckage of his downed fighter in a field of ice.
He thinks about home, about a place he hasn't seen in a year now, faded red against the greens and tans and browns of Kansas, about his mother and his father, how she'll cry without making a sound and he'll keep a firm arm around her waist, head bowed like he can't bear to see the sky.
He thinks about a half-smile and messy hair, eyes that laugh more than a mouth, ears that point a little at the tips. He remembers stumbled, stuttered words, half-confession and half-profession, the intensity no less for the whisper they were delivered in, half-mumbled somewhere between shoulder and neck.
He murmurs a soft apology to those he loves, coughs, and closes his eyes.
All That Matters; Hawaii Five-O/Stargate Atlantis, Lorne knows this crazy SEAL out in Hawaii and when David goes missing, he calls in a favor.
Evan lets out a sigh of relief when his call is picked up on the second ring. "McGarrett."
"Steve," he says, and he can almost hear the incandescent grin on the other side of the phone.
"Evan!" the man practically shouts. Another voice starts in the background; it rises and falls in pitch, and would sound vaguely annoyed if Steve's laughter wasn't laid over it. "Long time, no see, man. What have you been up to? You Stateside?"
"Um," Evan replies to the first question, because wow, that's a tough one to answer. As for the second- "That's kinda why I'm calling, actually."
Steve's always been pretty good at reading Evan's tone of voice; his own voice sobers almost instantly. "This isn't a social call."
"My boyfriend is missing," Evan says without preamble. "And look, Steve, I wouldn't call, but he's been working with me on this project I've been assigned to, super top-secret shit, and the people who probably have him-" Evan's breath catches as his imagination starts up again, David bleeding, David screaming, David begging them to stop, stop, stop.
"We're on our way," Evan hears before the phone clicks, before he can ask who we is, before he can even tell Steve where he is.
--
We turns out to be Steve and the voice from earlier. Evan actually finds them by zeroing in on the sound before he can see the men approaching; it's how he knows they're getting close to his hotel room. He doesn't even want to know how Steve found him.
"-saying, Steven, if you're going to drag my ass out of bed on a Sunday and fly it halfway across the country, I'd just appreciate a little time, you know, an overnight bag, spare underwear-" The man notices, Evan standing in the open doorway, waves halfheartedly. "Detective Danny Williams, I'm McGarrett's keeper," and then he's off again.
Steve can't quite hide the smirk as he reaches out and pulls Evan into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. "Give us the details," he says quietly. "We'll find him, Evan."
--
They do.
They do, and that's all that matters. Evan doesn't care about the burning warehouse or the seven dead members of the Lucian Alliance or the laws he'd personally seen Steve and his partner break - nineteen, to be exact, and Evan hadn't been present for most of it - he doesn't care about the paperwork that's going to be involved in this, or the fact that he's probably in some pretty deep shit for going around the SGC's protocols. He's got David back, David's going to be fine, and nothing else matters.
"Thanks," he says to Steve, who smiles, and then again to Danny, who nods and sticks out his hand.
"I'm not calling you if this one goes missing," Danny says, jerking his free thumb at Steve. "Not that I don't think you could find him, but my life, my life would be so much simpler-"
He cuts himself off when Steve puts a hand in the small of his back, leans into the touch, and scowls. "So much simpler," he repeats, but Evan doesn't believe him, not for a second.
Explaining: SGA/Harry Potter, Lorne/Parrish, After Atlantis, Parrish takes a job at Hogwarts as Professor of Herbology. Problem is, he needs to explain magic to his muggle boyfriend.
"So you're telling me that you have a, a magic wand and that you can just, just do things-"
"Please calm down," David tries, holding his hands out in front of him. "Look, Evan, Hogwarts is - it's really prestigious, and they've offered me the Herbology position now that Professor Sprout's retiring, but I'm not going if you're not going, and you can't go if you don't know."
"Hogwarts," Evan repeats, a little hysterically. "Who names a school Hogwarts?"
"The Founders," David says, "but that's not really the point here, Evan."
"The point," Evan replies slowly, "is that you're some kind of - of wizard, and you want to go be a professor at some sort of wizard school, and you want me to go with you."
"They're looking for a Muggle Studies professor, too," David says helpfully. "It's not like I'm asking you to just lay around and do nothing."
"Muggle Studies," Evan clarifies. "So that's - I'm one of these Muggles? And you study us?"
David sighs. "It's not like we keep Muggles in cages, Evan," he says patiently. "That went out when Malfoy's grandfather got tossed in Azkaban two centuries ago."
"Two centuries ago," Evan repeats faintly. "You kept people in cages two centuries ago?"
"Again, not the point." David sighs. "Look, there are people way more qualified than I am to help you adjust to all this. Can I take you to them?"
"I think that's a really, really good idea," Evan says a little shakily. David wraps him up in a hug.
"Close your eyes," he instructs, and then he's got his wand out and they're Apparating away.
Stay This Little: Supernatural. Dean and Sam, never grow up
Dean is seven when the thought strikes him.
Sammy is curled in the middle of the bed they're supposed to be sharing, little fists clenched in the sheets as he snores away. Dean's not sleeping; Dad's out, Hunting something that Dean can't pronounce, something small and fast and deadly. He'd left Dean with the usual instructions - stay in the room, don't answer the phone, watch after your brother - and he'd gone, just like always. So Dean feeds Sammy and makes him take a bath and puts him in bed, and then he sits in the big ugly armchair in the bedroom and lays the shotgun across his lap and doesn't sleep.
He just watches Sammy for a while, letting his mind wander. He thinks about the thing that Dad's Hunting, how Dad said to call Pastor Jim if he wasn't home by Tuesday. Pastor Jim is the only one whose phone number Dean remembers - 785-309-8518 - and he hopes he'll never, ever have to use it. So far, so good, Dad always says when Dean tells him that.
Dean is just sitting there, fingers stroking the smooth metal of the shotgun, when he looks up and sees that Sammy's awake, big hazel eyes staring in his direction. Dean shifts so he can put the gun down, keeping it in easy reach but far enough away that it won't scare Sammy. "What's up?"
"I had a scary dream," Sammy says, looking like he's trying not to cry. "There was a monster."
"What kind of monster?" Dean asks carefully. He's learned to pay attention to dreams; sometimes, Dad says, they're more than just dreams, sometimes they're warnings.
"Like the one in Scooby Doo," Sam whispers, and Dean relaxes into the seat. "A big blob monster with red spots on it, and it was chasing us."
And that's when the thought strikes Dean: Sammy doesn't know, doesn't get it, still doesn't understand that there are real, actual monsters to be afraid of.
All Dean wants in that moment is for Sammy to never have to know, for him to grow up and think that the blob monster in Scooby Doo is the scariest thing out there. For him to not have to think about witches and demons and spirits. For him to not have to sit up at night with a shotgun, watching, guarding.
Dean holds on to that thought as he crawls into the bed and hugs Sammy close. "Don't worry," he says, voice determined. "I'll protect you."
Steve/Danny: Coconut milk.
There are four cans in Steve's pantry, and that's the sum total of the food that Danny has at his disposal, three cans of chicken broth and a can of coconut milk.
"I don't even know what I could do with this," he gripes as he grabs the coconut milk from the shelf and turns back into the kitchen, where Steve's lounging against the counter with a grin on his face.
"Plenty of things to do with coconut milk, Danno," he says easily.
"Yeah?" Danny challenges. "Is it a good additive for chicken broth, are we going to have coconut milk chicken broth soup, Steven, because that's all that you have in this sad, pathetic excuse for a pantry-"
Steve straightens from his slouch against the counter and takes the three steps that bring him right up against Danny's side, and Danny stops talking, because Steve's got that glint in his eye that spells trouble. "You can use it for soup," he responds as he plucks it out of Danny's hand and sets it on the counter. "I was figuring on takeout tonight, though. I actually ordered just before you got here."
"Ordered - Steven, we have talked about this," Danny says in a pained voice. "You are not to order food for me, because you always, always end up getting me something that I hate and I end up eating the Hot Pockets out of your freezer. Except there are no Hot Pockets in the freezer right now, are there, because you ordered that Spam thing the other day and I finished them-"
"Food will be here in fifteen," Steve says offhandedly, and Danny notices that his hand has been creeping closer and closer to the button on Danny's khakis. "Just enough time."
Danny half-considers slapping Steve's hand away as he thumbs at the button before Steve sinks to his knees like he's made of liquid, smooth and easy, and he looks up the line of Danny's body as he drags the zipper down. Danny quickly decides that yeah, this might make up for whatever weird dish Steve's ordered him this time, if only because he'll have the remembered taste of himself in Steve's mouth while he's forcing it down.
Steve's mouthing him through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs and Danny groans as he tangles his fingers into Steve's hair. "Get on with it, babe," he says, voice a little more needy than maybe he'd like it to be, but Steve tugs at his underwear and puts his mouth to damn good use, bobbing up and down and sucking and swiping his tongue across the head of Danny's cock, and Christ, he's fucking good at this.
Steve's going easy on him, drawing it out and making it fucking unbearable, ignoring Danny's attempts to speed him up. Finally, finally, though, he gets a hand involved and hollows his cheeks out and hums in the back of his throat, and Danny slips right over that edge with a keening cry. Steve mouths at him through his orgasm until Danny pushes his head back, and that's when the doorbell rings.
"You planned that," he accuses, not really caring. "You timed it."
Steve's giving him a lazy smile as he stands, and there's no hiding the bulge in his cargo pants. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket, pretending he doesn't have a raging hard-on, and walks out of the kitchen.
Danny takes a minute to breathe before he tucks himself in and rights his clothing. By the time he steps into the living room, the delivery guy is gone, and there's a pizza box on the table. Steve's sitting on the couch, smirking at him from the couch, and Danny makes his way over and sits right in Steve's space, sticking his tongue into Steve's mouth to chase the last remnants of his own taste down his throat and putting his hand in Steve's pants. It only takes a minute or two of Danny's hand jerking him, Danny's tongue doing filthy things in his mouth, before Steve's groaning and shaking.
Danny stands and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands, and when he returns to the couch, Steve's leaning against the back with his eyes closed and a blissful little smile on his face. Danny rolls his eyes and reaches for the pizza box, resigning himself to picking off the pineapple and ham. He stares down for a minute when he lifts the lid, though, because that's just dough and sauce and mozz, and he blinks and looks up at Steve, who's directing that dopey grin right at him.
"I'm out of Hot Pockets, remember?" he says as he stands and heads into the bathroom himself. When he sits back down on the couch a minute later, Danny's still staring at the pizza in the box, and Steve frowns. "Don't tell me I got it wrong," he says warily, and Danny has to turn and kiss him again and again until they're both breathless and smiling and laughing a little, and by that time the pizza is cold, but neither of them cares.
Steve/Danny/Chin, Danny in the middle
Danny's sure he wants this, yeah, he's positive. He's just a little nervous, which is completely rational, because he's had Steve and he's had Chin but he's never had Steve and Chin and it's a lot to take in, literally and figuratively.
They're easing him into it, at least, working him open with their fingers as he pants and writhes and shoves back against the fingers stroking inside him. Three of Steve's fingers pump in and out slowly while Chin keeps two rubbing inside, and it's the fullest Danny's ever felt. That'll change soon, he knows, sooner than soon, because Steve and Chin have reached some sort of unspoken agreement, slipping their fingers from his body. He doesn't have time to protest, though, because Steve's settling against the headboard and Chin's helping Danny up, helping him move, helping him sit with his chest to Steve's front.
"Ready?" Steve asks, and Danny thinks again about how gentle Steve is when they're in bed, like all of the care he doesn't show during the day is saved for this. Danny nods and lifts his hips, lowering himself down onto Steve. It's easy, and Danny would be surprised at how loose he is if he hadn't spent the last considerable amount of time being stretched and opened. He sinks all the way down easily and steadies himself.
"Good," he breathes out, leaning the last bit forward and catching Steve's mouth with his own. He can't stop the moan that rises from his chest when Chin shifts behind him and slowly runs his fingers down Danny's back, not stopping until his fingertips are pressed right at Danny's entrance. Chin carefully eases a finger inside, and Danny breaks his mouth from Steve's and half-closes his eyes, letting his breath out slowly.
One of Steve's hands finds Danny's on the bed and laces their fingers together as Chin pushes another finger in. Danny tilts his head forward to rest against Steve's as Chin uses his free hand to grasp Danny's other hand, and Danny holds on tight and concentrates on breathing as Chin adds yet another finger.
"You okay?" Steve asks, concern and affection and barely-restrained need, and Danny wonders what this must feel like for him, buried in Danny's ass and still feeling Chin's fingers rubbing up and down his cock. Incredible, Danny decides as Chin pulls his fingers out and shifts again. Danny nods to answer Steve's question and leans against Steve's body, lifting a little even as he rests his forehead against Steve's shoulder. Steve's free hand comes up to curl around the back of his neck, warm and familiar and comforting, as Chin slowly eases in beside Steve.
"Oh, fuck," Danny pants into Steve's shoulder. "Fuck, fuck, Jesus."
"Too much?" Chin asks, gripping Danny's hand in his own, completely still even though he's half-in and half-not. "I can-"
"Keep going," Danny gasps. "Jesus fuck, Chin, please-" And then he can't speak, can't come up with a single word, because Chin's inside him and Steve's inside him and there's no room left even for thought.
"Danny," Steve breathes, like his name is something precious, almost like Danny remembers praying. He feels Steve's mouth along his neck, across his shoulder, and it grounds him. Finally, he raises his head from Steve's shoulder and leans his body back into Chin. The movement makes a multitude of noises fall from all three mouths.
All told, it doesn't take much; Danny rocks a little, Chin thrusts a little, Steve stays as still as he can manage, and when Chin reaches around and wraps his hand around Danny's cock, he arches his back and comes, messy and hard, all over Steve's chest. He slumps forward into Steve, changing the angle again, and hears the sounds of Steve and Chin kissing over his shoulder as he pants between them.
Chin moans behind him before too much longer, and Danny can feel everything, how Chin stiffens a little more inside him before he spurts, how his hand trembles where he's still holding Danny's, how Steve squeezes Danny's other hand and pants into his ear as Chin slides out.
"I'm fine, babe," Danny says before Steve can ask again, and okay, maybe he's not exactly tracking, but he's so fine it's not even a question. Steve catches his mouth and kisses him again, tongue and teeth and heat, before cradling Danny to his body and leaning a little further back. He starts thrusting in earnest, up and up and up, and Danny licks his way back into Steve's mouth as Chin curls up beside them and snakes his free hand between their bodies to tweak at Steve's nipple. And then Steve is gasping into Danny's mouth, his eyes are fluttering closed, and Danny settles his hips down as Steve pushes in once more, coming with a cry.
Someone, probably Chin, cleans them up and finds the sheet on the floor. Danny's too fucked-out to pay attention to anything past how his hands are finally freed, long fingers disentangling from his own, and he makes a protesting sound in the back of his throat.
"Right here," Steve murmurs, wrapping an arm around Danny's body and drawing him in close so Danny can tuck into his chest. Chin curls around his back a moment later, and they drift to sleep, sated and happy and together.
Knees: Steve/Danny, after all that ranting about upholding the rules & the law & common decency, turns out Danny fantasizes about semi-public sex
"Honest to God," Steve snaps mid-Danny-rant, "Christ, Danny, what do I have to do to shut you up? Seriously, man, I get it, you're pissed. Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth right here to get you to stop talking?"
And he means it as a joke, he really does, but he's trained to notice things, so notice he does. Things like the way Danny inhales sharply, the way his eyes blow a little wide, the way he actually shuts his mouth and swallows like it's a chore.
"Really?" Steve isn't sure he can keep the grin from spreading across his face, so he doesn't even try. "You gotta be - Danny, really, sex in public?"
"No," Danny says immediately, and he's bullshitting, completely and totally bullshitting. "Fuck you, McGarrett, let's just get back to the office and-"
"Oh, no," Steve replies, dropping his voice as he takes a step towards Danny. "Nope, because this, this right here, is interesting. Something I'd like to explore." As he talks, he's crowding into Danny's space, grabbing him by the hips, walking him back until he's pressed against the wall.
"Stop-" Danny tries, but his eyes are wide and dark and Steve's pressed right up against him, can feel that this is turning Danny on.
"You really want me to stop?" Steve says, quiet and low, right into Danny's ear, gratified when Danny shudders against him. "Or would you rather I put you on your knees and fuck your face?"
And that's it, Danny's thrusting his hips forward into Steve's thigh, and Steve's glancing around for something they can duck behind, because there's public sex and then there's the middle of a fucking warehouse.
"Come on," he tells Danny roughly as he spies a door leading to an office. Danny follows right behind as Steve walks in, shuts the door, closes the blinds, and turns around, and Jesus Christ, Danny's already on his knees.
"What?" Danny asks in a strangled sort of voice after a few seconds where all Steve can do is stare. "If you changed your mind-"
"Not hardly," Steve counters, unfastening his belt and pants and drawing himself out quickly. He walks up to Danny, who's staring up at him from between Steve's thighs, who's leaning his head forward to rub his cheek against Steve's dick, who's licking his way from base to head and taking him in messily, fast and hot and sweet. Steve groans, can't help it, doesn't even want to, and Danny stills as he glances up, mouth wrapped perfectly around the head of Steve's cock.
"What, what," Steve gasps out, but Danny's tugging on his hips and Steve thrusts forward a little. Danny's eyelids flutter closed with a hum that Steve feels from tip to toe, and that's when Steve loses the last vestiges of control over the situation, grabbing Danny's head and thrusting in over and over. He's vaguely aware of Danny's shaking hands going to his own pants, stroking his own cock as Steve tosses his head back, and then everything's a blur as he comes and comes.
They're both utterly and completely wrecked by the time Steve sinks to the floor beside Danny. They're definitely going to have to stop for a shower and a change before heading back to the office, that's for damn sure, but Steve cannot find it within himself to be upset about that. Instead, he grins at Danny.
"If I'd known that would shut you up-"
"Shut you up," Danny mutters, which doesn't even make sense - but okay, he's kissing Steve like it's going out of style, so maybe Steve can let the matter drop.
Dance: Steve/Danny, for their wedding, Steve wore a tie just for Danny. And on their honeymoon too.
The wedding is small, private, kind of beautiful in a way his first one wasn't. Danny and Steve are both in tuxes; Chin stands with Danny in a dark gray suit, and Kono stands with Steve in a matching dress. Grace holds one of Danny's hands and one of Steve's through the entire ceremony, looking up at them with a smile on her face that rivals the sun, and Danny has Steve's other hand as they stand on the beach. Mary's there, and Danny's sisters Em and Lindsey had been able to fly out. The most surprising guest is Rachel, but she's smiling at Danny like she hasn't in years, soft and affectionate and happy, and it seems fitting in a way he can't quite describe.
When the ceremony is over, Kono drags everyone back up to the house and puts her iPod into the speaker dock that Steve had installed. There's music and food and it feels really, really nice. Mary's dancing with her date, a guy Danny's never met, and Em's swaying with her husband Mark. Danny's got a mouthful of God-knows-what - Kono had put it on his plate with a wide smile when he had asked what it was - when he feels a warm hand on his neck. Steve smiles down at him when he turns his face.
"Dance with me," he says softly, and it's that tone of voice that Danny will never be able to say no to, kind of vulnerable in a way that Steve rarely is. Danny swallows and puts his plate down and follows Steve to the lanai.
It's a little awkward - they're both guys, for one, so there's the issue of where their hands are supposed to go - but they figure it out and start to move to the music. Danny leans his head on Steve's chest and smiles as one of Steve's hands wanders up his back and rests against his shoulderblade. It's somewhere between dancing and hugging, and Danny kind of likes it.
And speaking of things he likes- "Nice tie," Danny says, not bothering to tilt his head up. It's not that loud, and Steve can hear a tree falling in the woods on the mainland anyway.
Steve chuckles softly into Danny's hair. "Wore that just for you, Danno."
"I figured," Danny grins against Steve's chest. "Now, if I could just convince you to wear it more often-"
"Hmm," Steve says, like he's actually thinking about it. "Maybe I'll wear it on our honeymoon, huh? You and me and a hotel room, wearing a tie and nothing else-"
"Jesus," Danny mutters, pulling back to look up at his husband. "Are you trying to kill me here?"
Danny can pretty much feel it to his feet, the way Steve smiles at him, goofy and ridiculous and totally, totally hot. Steve leans in and Danny leans up and their lips meet, slow and sweet, again and again.
They're not dancing any more, but neither of them cares.
Reward: Steve/Danny, it's completely geeky but he doesn't even care - he's gonna prove to Steve that he CAN get to Triple Banana
Danny's concentrating so hard that his tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth. His hands are moving freakishly fast, moving with complete precision, and it's obvious that this is not his first time playing, nor his second.
And sure, he's got to be good at it - he's been at it for more than half an hour on the same quarter, tapping and tugging at the joystick, but Steve's not looking at the screen at all. No, he's looking at Danny, at the little frown on his face, at the crease in his brow, at the way his entire body stays perfectly still but for his fingers.
Danny's face breaks into a triumphant smirk as he finally leans back form the machine. "Triple banana," he says smugly, "bitch."
"You sure showed me," Steve says, trying for unaffected, pretty sure he's giving it away with how he can't stop grinning. "You win."
"Damn right I do," Danny replies, taking a step away from the console and standing in front of Steve. "Now I get my prize."
"I can probably find you a nice pencil topper," Steve says thoughtfully, grinning down at Danny, who smirks back up as he wraps his hand around the back of Steve's neck and tugs him down.
"Had something different in mind," he says against Steve's mouth, and if Danny wants to reward both of them, Steve's not complaining.
Instructions: Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, while whispering to Danny how to escape the predicament they're in, Steve makes sure to whisper I love you
They're pressed together, front-to-back, Steve's arm around his waist, mouth on Danny's ear. They've stood like this before, Steve whispering dirty things while Danny tried not to squirm, but this - this is different.
"When we kick the doors open," Steve whispers, feather-soft in his ear, "duck right. There's a door there, it'll take you outside-"
"Fuck you," Danny replies, still intense for all it's a whisper. "Fuck you and your hero complex very much if you think I'm letting you go in there by yourself-"
"-and I'll follow," Steve continues smoothly, as if he hadn't heard Danny at all. The hand he has resting on Danny's hip squeezes lightly. "Even I'm not that insane, Danno."
"Sometimes you make me wonder," Danny grumbles. "What with the breaking and entering while our suspect isn't home, the shoving us in a closet when the guy comes back without notice-"
"Ready?" Steve asks, breathing the word low in Danny's ear as he sets his foot against the inside of the closet door.
"Sure, yeah, go right," Danny sighs, grabbing Steve's hand with his own and threading their fingers together. There's only so far he trusts that Steve isn't actually planning on taking off after their suspect.
"Right," Steve agrees. "I love you," he adds, and then he kicks the door down and launches out the doorway to the right, and if they're both smiling like giant goofs when they get back to the Camaro, well, nobody asks why.
Cooties: Danny and Grace, dealing with Grace's first crush.
The second Danny figures it out, it's like a lightswitch being thrown. It's like his brain being thrown, like flipping the switch blew out the bulb, because Gracie is his baby and she's too young to have Those Kinds Of Feelings. She will continue to be too young for the next fifteen years or so, Danny thinks, but she's really too young right now.
But she keeps chattering on and on about Tommy, and really, she had to go and pick the pathological liar to have her first no-holds-barred crush on, great, this does not bode well. But right now, that's not his worry, not his main concern, because Grace is talking dejectedly now, and Danny would gnaw his own arm off if it meant never hearing her use that tone again.
"I just want to be his friend," she says mournfully, like the world might end if Tommy doesn't like her.
"What do you mean, you're his friend, of course you're his friend," Danny interjects as he navigates his way to the exit. "Why wouldn't you be his friend?"
"He says I have cooties," Grace explains in that same sad voice.
"You do not, no daughter of mine has anything so gross, Monkey. You know what, he has cooties, Tommy has cooties, you don't want to be his friend anyway if he's got cooties, do you?"
Grace seems to brighten at what Danny considers some pretty pointless babbling. "Yeah," she agrees, and now she's talking about Kelia and Mina and something they did on the playground, and Danny takes a huge mental sigh of relief.
He wonders how long he's got before the cooties trick stops working. He hopes it's longer than he's thinking.
Longer: Lorne/Parrish, The day he died.
WARNING: DEATHFIC.
This, Evan thinks, this was never what he thought would happen. This was never supposed to be his exit.
He had always expected to go down in battle - over the Middle East, maybe, fighting on the ground. And then he'd been pulled into the Stargate program, and it had been the Unas or the Wraith or the Replicators or the Genii, a million ways to die at his doorstep every day. He had honestly never thought he'd make it back from the Pegasus Galaxy.
But somehow, somehow he had; he'd been surprised to find himself pushing fifty and knocking on the door to his next promotion - general, incredibly enough, and he'd never thought that would happen, either - and when they told him he was being promoted and reassigned, he found himself on Earth without a clue as to how he was supposed to live there.
But live he had - he'd lived and he'd loved and he'd built a life, one with a man he adored, and when he'd retired they'd moved to the mountains. The air there was better for David's lungs, so Evan hadn't hesitated.
David had healed, or hadn't gotten any worse, at least; they've been here for almost twenty years now. They're old - there's no doubt about that; David will be eighty-two in the fall, and Evan's just turned eighty-one.
He won't make it to eighty-two, he knows, and he knows that he's oddly okay with that as he looks up at David from the bed they've shared here for twenty long, beautiful years. It doesn't hurt, this gradual dimming of his senses, the way he can't move his limbs. He's felt like he's been living on borrowed time since he left Atlantis; this isn't what he expected, but he can't be angry about what he's been given.
He can feel his breathing getting heavier, can feel the strain it's putting on him with each inhalation, and he flicks his eyes around, searching for David.
"I'm here," he hears, right in his ear, and David's hand is a warm, slight pressure against his own.
"Love you," Evan breathes out, and then he closes his eyes.
Anywhere But Here: written for a stargateland challenge where you had to do what a character was thinking during a 'terrible but tedious event.'
He thinks of somewhere warm, somewhere green, somewhere with family and friends and laughter, somewhere that's not here, trapped in the wreckage of his downed fighter in a field of ice.
He thinks about home, about a place he hasn't seen in a year now, faded red against the greens and tans and browns of Kansas, about his mother and his father, how she'll cry without making a sound and he'll keep a firm arm around her waist, head bowed like he can't bear to see the sky.
He thinks about a half-smile and messy hair, eyes that laugh more than a mouth, ears that point a little at the tips. He remembers stumbled, stuttered words, half-confession and half-profession, the intensity no less for the whisper they were delivered in, half-mumbled somewhere between shoulder and neck.
He murmurs a soft apology to those he loves, coughs, and closes his eyes.
All That Matters; Hawaii Five-O/Stargate Atlantis, Lorne knows this crazy SEAL out in Hawaii and when David goes missing, he calls in a favor.
Evan lets out a sigh of relief when his call is picked up on the second ring. "McGarrett."
"Steve," he says, and he can almost hear the incandescent grin on the other side of the phone.
"Evan!" the man practically shouts. Another voice starts in the background; it rises and falls in pitch, and would sound vaguely annoyed if Steve's laughter wasn't laid over it. "Long time, no see, man. What have you been up to? You Stateside?"
"Um," Evan replies to the first question, because wow, that's a tough one to answer. As for the second- "That's kinda why I'm calling, actually."
Steve's always been pretty good at reading Evan's tone of voice; his own voice sobers almost instantly. "This isn't a social call."
"My boyfriend is missing," Evan says without preamble. "And look, Steve, I wouldn't call, but he's been working with me on this project I've been assigned to, super top-secret shit, and the people who probably have him-" Evan's breath catches as his imagination starts up again, David bleeding, David screaming, David begging them to stop, stop, stop.
"We're on our way," Evan hears before the phone clicks, before he can ask who we is, before he can even tell Steve where he is.
--
We turns out to be Steve and the voice from earlier. Evan actually finds them by zeroing in on the sound before he can see the men approaching; it's how he knows they're getting close to his hotel room. He doesn't even want to know how Steve found him.
"-saying, Steven, if you're going to drag my ass out of bed on a Sunday and fly it halfway across the country, I'd just appreciate a little time, you know, an overnight bag, spare underwear-" The man notices, Evan standing in the open doorway, waves halfheartedly. "Detective Danny Williams, I'm McGarrett's keeper," and then he's off again.
Steve can't quite hide the smirk as he reaches out and pulls Evan into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. "Give us the details," he says quietly. "We'll find him, Evan."
--
They do.
They do, and that's all that matters. Evan doesn't care about the burning warehouse or the seven dead members of the Lucian Alliance or the laws he'd personally seen Steve and his partner break - nineteen, to be exact, and Evan hadn't been present for most of it - he doesn't care about the paperwork that's going to be involved in this, or the fact that he's probably in some pretty deep shit for going around the SGC's protocols. He's got David back, David's going to be fine, and nothing else matters.
"Thanks," he says to Steve, who smiles, and then again to Danny, who nods and sticks out his hand.
"I'm not calling you if this one goes missing," Danny says, jerking his free thumb at Steve. "Not that I don't think you could find him, but my life, my life would be so much simpler-"
He cuts himself off when Steve puts a hand in the small of his back, leans into the touch, and scowls. "So much simpler," he repeats, but Evan doesn't believe him, not for a second.
Explaining: SGA/Harry Potter, Lorne/Parrish, After Atlantis, Parrish takes a job at Hogwarts as Professor of Herbology. Problem is, he needs to explain magic to his muggle boyfriend.
"So you're telling me that you have a, a magic wand and that you can just, just do things-"
"Please calm down," David tries, holding his hands out in front of him. "Look, Evan, Hogwarts is - it's really prestigious, and they've offered me the Herbology position now that Professor Sprout's retiring, but I'm not going if you're not going, and you can't go if you don't know."
"Hogwarts," Evan repeats, a little hysterically. "Who names a school Hogwarts?"
"The Founders," David says, "but that's not really the point here, Evan."
"The point," Evan replies slowly, "is that you're some kind of - of wizard, and you want to go be a professor at some sort of wizard school, and you want me to go with you."
"They're looking for a Muggle Studies professor, too," David says helpfully. "It's not like I'm asking you to just lay around and do nothing."
"Muggle Studies," Evan clarifies. "So that's - I'm one of these Muggles? And you study us?"
David sighs. "It's not like we keep Muggles in cages, Evan," he says patiently. "That went out when Malfoy's grandfather got tossed in Azkaban two centuries ago."
"Two centuries ago," Evan repeats faintly. "You kept people in cages two centuries ago?"
"Again, not the point." David sighs. "Look, there are people way more qualified than I am to help you adjust to all this. Can I take you to them?"
"I think that's a really, really good idea," Evan says a little shakily. David wraps him up in a hug.
"Close your eyes," he instructs, and then he's got his wand out and they're Apparating away.