fic: TLC (1/1)
Title: TLC
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny takes Steve home after his second trip to the hospital.
Notes: Set shortly after the end of 3.17, Pa'ani, so spoilers for that episode inside. Part of the random, not really connected series of codas and missing scenes for season 3.
"I'm just saying, if you ever listened to the doctors, you might get hurt a lot less."
Steve rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers impatiently on the console between the passenger seat and driver's seat. "Thank you, Dr. Williams," he said, glancing at the speedometer, the glowing lights on the dash showing Danny was well within the posted speed limit. "You know what, though, it's okay, because by the time you get us to my house, I'll have had enough time to heal."
"You know," Danny said, smiling at him as if he'd been handed another autographed football, "the best part of all of this is that I get to drive my own car for a week."
"A week?" Steve scoffed. "I'll be fine in a day or two."
"The doctor said a week, Steven."
And really, he should've known better than to let Danny come in while the doctor was looking at him again. "He was being overly cautious."
"A week."
"I'm a much faster healer than he knows."
Danny raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
"What are you implying?"
"Well," Danny said, drawing the word out in a way that made Steve know he was going to hate whatever came next, "it's just that at your age--"
"At my age?" Steve said, turning to use his whole body to express his indignation, and ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the move. "At my age?"
"At your age," Danny continued, "you don't heal as fast as you used to."
Steve stared at him. "At my age?"
"It's okay, babe," Danny said, patting Steve on the thigh. "Your recovery time in other areas is fantastic."
"What, for my age?" Steve sniped, even though he was losing his anger as Danny's hand slid a little further up his thigh.
"Maybe even for someone five years younger."
Okay, the anger was coming back a little. "Five years?"
"Maybe even six."
"You know what, Danny--" Steve stopped as he saw the teasing look on Danny's face. Danny, who'd skipped the game when Steve had nothing more than a dislocated shoulder. Danny, who'd skipped the post-bowl party they could've gone to with Kono and Cath to take Steve back to the hospital.
"What?"
"Never mind." Steve put his hand on Danny's and gave it a squeeze.
Danny grinned at him as he turned onto Steve's street. "How's the shoulder?"
Steve grimaced. "Sore?"
"I would imagine so." Danny pulled into Steve's driveway, jumping out of the car and coming around to open the door before Steve finished with the seatbelt.
Steve climbed out, frowning at Danny. "I'm not an invalid."
"No one said you were," Danny said, holding his hands up, and yet managing to bump the door with his ass to shut it before Steve could do it himself. "Just making sure you follow the doctor's orders."
"Thank you, Nurse Ratched."
"I will ignore that," Danny said as he opened the front door, "but only because you clearly flew out of the cuckoo's nest at some point, and it implies that you might actually do what I say."
Steve closed the door behind them. "Or try to kill you."
Danny laughed. "You've been trying to kill me for three years. I don't think your heart's really in it." He spun around, and Steve nearly ran into him. "Besides, if you kill me, who's going to apply this?"
He pulled a box of IcyHot from a bag Steve hadn't even noticed, and held it up. "Okay," Steve said, already imagining how that was going to feel on his strained shoulder, "I'll let you live."
"Your generosity is noted," Danny said. "Come on."
He led Steve up the stairs and to his room, pausing just when they'd gotten through Steve's door. "Where's your mother?"
"Gone for the weekend," Steve said, wincing as his muscles tightened in automatic response to the whole issue of his mother. "Said Pro Bowl weekend made her nervous. Too many strangers."
"I can see where a supposedly dead CIA agent might be worried about strangers," Danny said with a nod, "but I'm pretty sure that's Honolulu on any day of the year."
"Yeah, I didn't buy it either." His shoulder was hurting more that more he thought about it.
Danny took him by his good arm and led him to the bed. "You're not going to solve that today," Danny said, pushing Steve down onto the bed. "Let it go."
"Says the guy still obsessing over a fumble?"
"Maybe I'm learning my lesson," Danny said.
Steve snorted. "That'd be a first."
"Careful how you talk to someone who's about to lay his hands on your injured shoulder there, pal."
As Steve very much wanted Danny's hands on him, he shut up--much to Danny's amusement, if his smirk and quiet laughter were anything to go by. He let Danny help him off with his sling and his shirt, shivering a little as Danny's fingers trailed over his bare skin.
"You know," Steve said, his voice a little hoarse, "we could skip the IcyHot."
"Wouldn't want you to be in pain."
Danny's voice was just as hoarse, and it went straight to Steve's dick. "If you insist," Steve said. He leaned towards Danny as his hands moved away, missing the touch, but they were back again quickly, the smell of menthol reaching Steve's nose half a second before Danny began slowly massaging the cream into Steve's shoulder.
It hurt a little, at first, but the muscles gave way to Danny's strong hands. "Cath was right," Steve muttered, his eyes slipping closed. "You've got good hands." He winced as Danny's grip got a little too tight momentarily. "Ow."
"Sorry," Danny said, his hands working their magic once more. "The two of you discussed my hands?"
"Your catch," Steve said. "It was good."
"Well I'm glad you were both so impressed by my football skills," Danny said, his voice tight. "Here, lie down before you fall over."
He guided Steve onto his side, leaving his right shoulder up so Danny could continue rubbing the medicine into it. "Any better?" Danny asked.
Steve barely felt any pain at this point, but he didn't want Danny to stop. "Some," he admitted.
"Some? Is that why you're boneless?"
The tightness had left Danny's voice, and the humor was back, making Steve smile. "My shoulder is," Steve said, "but other parts of me are decidedly more stiff."
Danny laughed. "That is the lamest pickup line ever--and you're full of lame pickup lines, so that's saying something."
Steve didn't care how much Danny mocked, though. All he cared was that Danny was lying pressed against his back, and he'd taken off his own shirt at some point. And that one of Danny's hands was sliding down Steve's chest to undo his fly.
"You must like lame pickup lines then," Steve said, pressing back just enough to feel Danny's erection pressing against Steve's ass through their pants.
"Clearly I need mental help." Danny's voice was low, his breath brushing the back of Steve's neck as Danny eased Steve's pants down.
He wrapped his hand around Steve's dick, but Steve pressed back, his bare ass brushing against the fabric of Danny's pants. Steve frowned, reaching back to try to find Danny's fly, but only making it to his hip before his shoulder protested and he winced.
Danny stopped moving. "You okay?"
Steve brushed his hand against Danny's hip. "Off."
"You want me off the bed?"
"Absolutely not," Steve said quickly. "Your pants. Off."
"Oh."
Danny moved away for a moment, and when he pressed against Steve again, Steve felt nothing but naked skin from shoulders to feet. "Much better," Steve said, melting back against Danny, feeling his dick slide in between Steve's thighs, brushing Steve's crack as Danny wrapped his hand around Steve's dick once more and Steve started moving with Danny's hand.
The feel of Danny rubbing against him all over, and his hand moving faster and faster on Steve's dick, brought him over the edge almost embarrassingly fast. He felt Danny movements behind him getting quicker and less focused, and then Danny's arm tightened over Steve's chest as he pressed hard against him and held tight for a moment before going boneless.
Steve found Danny's right hand with his left and laced their fingers together, giving Danny's hand a little tug when he felt Danny moving around a little behind him. "Hang on," Danny said, giving Steve's hand a squeeze before letting go and rolling off the bed.
He heard footsteps and running water before more footsteps, and then Danny was back on the bed, rolling Steve onto his back and cleaning him up. "Better?" Danny asked.
"Much." He blinked his eyes open to see Danny looking down at him, his face unreadable in the moonlight. "Thanks."
"Yeah, 'cause I got nothing out of it," Danny said, face finally breaking into a smug look Steve recognized.
Steve laughed. "No, for going to the hospital and, well, going to the hospital again."
"You did reinjure yourself throwing me my Peyton Manning ball," Danny said, shrugging. "Least I could do."
Steve smiled at him. "You have a point."
Danny rolled his eyes at that. "Move over," he said, maneuvering Steve to one side of the bed so he could lie down next to him. "I need some sleep if I'm going to make breakfast in the morning."
"You're making me breakfast?"
"Someone's got to, or you'll just use it as an excuse to leave the sling off."
Which was true, so Steve didn't argue. "Just...no eggs, right?"
"Shut up or eggs are all you'll be eating for the rest of the week."
The promise of Danny sticking around to cook for him for a week was enough to make Steve do anything Danny said, so he complied.
---
END
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Danny takes Steve home after his second trip to the hospital.
Notes: Set shortly after the end of 3.17, Pa'ani, so spoilers for that episode inside. Part of the random, not really connected series of codas and missing scenes for season 3.
"I'm just saying, if you ever listened to the doctors, you might get hurt a lot less."
Steve rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers impatiently on the console between the passenger seat and driver's seat. "Thank you, Dr. Williams," he said, glancing at the speedometer, the glowing lights on the dash showing Danny was well within the posted speed limit. "You know what, though, it's okay, because by the time you get us to my house, I'll have had enough time to heal."
"You know," Danny said, smiling at him as if he'd been handed another autographed football, "the best part of all of this is that I get to drive my own car for a week."
"A week?" Steve scoffed. "I'll be fine in a day or two."
"The doctor said a week, Steven."
And really, he should've known better than to let Danny come in while the doctor was looking at him again. "He was being overly cautious."
"A week."
"I'm a much faster healer than he knows."
Danny raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
"What are you implying?"
"Well," Danny said, drawing the word out in a way that made Steve know he was going to hate whatever came next, "it's just that at your age--"
"At my age?" Steve said, turning to use his whole body to express his indignation, and ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the move. "At my age?"
"At your age," Danny continued, "you don't heal as fast as you used to."
Steve stared at him. "At my age?"
"It's okay, babe," Danny said, patting Steve on the thigh. "Your recovery time in other areas is fantastic."
"What, for my age?" Steve sniped, even though he was losing his anger as Danny's hand slid a little further up his thigh.
"Maybe even for someone five years younger."
Okay, the anger was coming back a little. "Five years?"
"Maybe even six."
"You know what, Danny--" Steve stopped as he saw the teasing look on Danny's face. Danny, who'd skipped the game when Steve had nothing more than a dislocated shoulder. Danny, who'd skipped the post-bowl party they could've gone to with Kono and Cath to take Steve back to the hospital.
"What?"
"Never mind." Steve put his hand on Danny's and gave it a squeeze.
Danny grinned at him as he turned onto Steve's street. "How's the shoulder?"
Steve grimaced. "Sore?"
"I would imagine so." Danny pulled into Steve's driveway, jumping out of the car and coming around to open the door before Steve finished with the seatbelt.
Steve climbed out, frowning at Danny. "I'm not an invalid."
"No one said you were," Danny said, holding his hands up, and yet managing to bump the door with his ass to shut it before Steve could do it himself. "Just making sure you follow the doctor's orders."
"Thank you, Nurse Ratched."
"I will ignore that," Danny said as he opened the front door, "but only because you clearly flew out of the cuckoo's nest at some point, and it implies that you might actually do what I say."
Steve closed the door behind them. "Or try to kill you."
Danny laughed. "You've been trying to kill me for three years. I don't think your heart's really in it." He spun around, and Steve nearly ran into him. "Besides, if you kill me, who's going to apply this?"
He pulled a box of IcyHot from a bag Steve hadn't even noticed, and held it up. "Okay," Steve said, already imagining how that was going to feel on his strained shoulder, "I'll let you live."
"Your generosity is noted," Danny said. "Come on."
He led Steve up the stairs and to his room, pausing just when they'd gotten through Steve's door. "Where's your mother?"
"Gone for the weekend," Steve said, wincing as his muscles tightened in automatic response to the whole issue of his mother. "Said Pro Bowl weekend made her nervous. Too many strangers."
"I can see where a supposedly dead CIA agent might be worried about strangers," Danny said with a nod, "but I'm pretty sure that's Honolulu on any day of the year."
"Yeah, I didn't buy it either." His shoulder was hurting more that more he thought about it.
Danny took him by his good arm and led him to the bed. "You're not going to solve that today," Danny said, pushing Steve down onto the bed. "Let it go."
"Says the guy still obsessing over a fumble?"
"Maybe I'm learning my lesson," Danny said.
Steve snorted. "That'd be a first."
"Careful how you talk to someone who's about to lay his hands on your injured shoulder there, pal."
As Steve very much wanted Danny's hands on him, he shut up--much to Danny's amusement, if his smirk and quiet laughter were anything to go by. He let Danny help him off with his sling and his shirt, shivering a little as Danny's fingers trailed over his bare skin.
"You know," Steve said, his voice a little hoarse, "we could skip the IcyHot."
"Wouldn't want you to be in pain."
Danny's voice was just as hoarse, and it went straight to Steve's dick. "If you insist," Steve said. He leaned towards Danny as his hands moved away, missing the touch, but they were back again quickly, the smell of menthol reaching Steve's nose half a second before Danny began slowly massaging the cream into Steve's shoulder.
It hurt a little, at first, but the muscles gave way to Danny's strong hands. "Cath was right," Steve muttered, his eyes slipping closed. "You've got good hands." He winced as Danny's grip got a little too tight momentarily. "Ow."
"Sorry," Danny said, his hands working their magic once more. "The two of you discussed my hands?"
"Your catch," Steve said. "It was good."
"Well I'm glad you were both so impressed by my football skills," Danny said, his voice tight. "Here, lie down before you fall over."
He guided Steve onto his side, leaving his right shoulder up so Danny could continue rubbing the medicine into it. "Any better?" Danny asked.
Steve barely felt any pain at this point, but he didn't want Danny to stop. "Some," he admitted.
"Some? Is that why you're boneless?"
The tightness had left Danny's voice, and the humor was back, making Steve smile. "My shoulder is," Steve said, "but other parts of me are decidedly more stiff."
Danny laughed. "That is the lamest pickup line ever--and you're full of lame pickup lines, so that's saying something."
Steve didn't care how much Danny mocked, though. All he cared was that Danny was lying pressed against his back, and he'd taken off his own shirt at some point. And that one of Danny's hands was sliding down Steve's chest to undo his fly.
"You must like lame pickup lines then," Steve said, pressing back just enough to feel Danny's erection pressing against Steve's ass through their pants.
"Clearly I need mental help." Danny's voice was low, his breath brushing the back of Steve's neck as Danny eased Steve's pants down.
He wrapped his hand around Steve's dick, but Steve pressed back, his bare ass brushing against the fabric of Danny's pants. Steve frowned, reaching back to try to find Danny's fly, but only making it to his hip before his shoulder protested and he winced.
Danny stopped moving. "You okay?"
Steve brushed his hand against Danny's hip. "Off."
"You want me off the bed?"
"Absolutely not," Steve said quickly. "Your pants. Off."
"Oh."
Danny moved away for a moment, and when he pressed against Steve again, Steve felt nothing but naked skin from shoulders to feet. "Much better," Steve said, melting back against Danny, feeling his dick slide in between Steve's thighs, brushing Steve's crack as Danny wrapped his hand around Steve's dick once more and Steve started moving with Danny's hand.
The feel of Danny rubbing against him all over, and his hand moving faster and faster on Steve's dick, brought him over the edge almost embarrassingly fast. He felt Danny movements behind him getting quicker and less focused, and then Danny's arm tightened over Steve's chest as he pressed hard against him and held tight for a moment before going boneless.
Steve found Danny's right hand with his left and laced their fingers together, giving Danny's hand a little tug when he felt Danny moving around a little behind him. "Hang on," Danny said, giving Steve's hand a squeeze before letting go and rolling off the bed.
He heard footsteps and running water before more footsteps, and then Danny was back on the bed, rolling Steve onto his back and cleaning him up. "Better?" Danny asked.
"Much." He blinked his eyes open to see Danny looking down at him, his face unreadable in the moonlight. "Thanks."
"Yeah, 'cause I got nothing out of it," Danny said, face finally breaking into a smug look Steve recognized.
Steve laughed. "No, for going to the hospital and, well, going to the hospital again."
"You did reinjure yourself throwing me my Peyton Manning ball," Danny said, shrugging. "Least I could do."
Steve smiled at him. "You have a point."
Danny rolled his eyes at that. "Move over," he said, maneuvering Steve to one side of the bed so he could lie down next to him. "I need some sleep if I'm going to make breakfast in the morning."
"You're making me breakfast?"
"Someone's got to, or you'll just use it as an excuse to leave the sling off."
Which was true, so Steve didn't argue. "Just...no eggs, right?"
"Shut up or eggs are all you'll be eating for the rest of the week."
The promise of Danny sticking around to cook for him for a week was enough to make Steve do anything Danny said, so he complied.
---
END