H50 fic-Summer in Paris (Steve/Danny)
Title: Summer in Paris (I never knew my heart could sing)
Author: wolwiegirl3
Rating: PG-13, for swearing and allusion
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Steve/Danny
Genre: humor,fluff
Warning: none
Spoilers: nah
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money from this
Author Notes: So, this whole thing started with the Take Your Fandom Home Day at leupagus . I didn't really plan to write this "soon" in this fandom, but once I started, it wouldn't go away
Summary: The boys on honeymoon in Paris
Word Count: 1293
A/N: I played a little bit with it since I first posted it, for the better in my opinion ^^. It's still Unbeta-ed though, and as you may have guessed, english isn't my first language, so don't hesitate to point me any mistakes !
A/N: So, I currently live in Paris for my studies, which explain how this came up. But the truth is that I come from a little seaside town in the South of France, Biarritz, and I felt a little bit of a traitor to not write about, which is why there is a sequel coming ! \o/
A/N: the little inside joke to myself is that I am part of the group of people playing flag football on Sundays ^^
“Come on, Danno, you must be the only person in the world who found a way to be cranky on his honeymoon in Paris.”
“I have nothing against the city, the city is beautiful. I have a problem with being up and walking since the crack of dawn at my husband’s crazy military pace, following his crazy military schedule, which is typed, and organized by color, may I add. And I’m pretty sure that if I look at it, I will find the GPS coordinates of every place we’re going to. I’m exhausted, that is my problem, and it’s only 14h30” finishes Danny, hands flying around, getting him nasty looks from the others pedestrians on the Alexandre III bridge.
“It’s called organization.” pouts Steve, “There is nothing wrong with it” he murmurs to himself, more than to his companion who isn’t listening anyway.
“And don’t get me starting on the people here. What is wrong with them? It’s the city of love, for Christ’s sake, why do I hate most of them, huh? And what happened to the infamous French elegance? Why is it so much people wearing sweatpants without looking like they’re going to the gym?”
“That’s was just a bunch of punks, Danny”
“Even in Jersey, they have more class, I am not kidding you. And I know even if I don’t speak a word of French, that they were making fun of me.”
“They talked really fast and with a lot of slang, I swear I didn’t get it” answers Steve, hand in front of him, trying to calm Danny. “But you know, you’re wearing a tie. On holidays.” He grins.
“I am not, I am not, my friend” the shorter man replies, his finger pointed to the SEAL face “taking any crappy fashion advice from a oversized fucker wearing a fucking Hawaiian shirt”
“It’s a wedding gift from Chin!” cries Steve in outrage “I want to wear it on the pictures. And it makes me an Aloha ambassador in the world. You know, spreading the love and stuff “ he opens his arms, smiling brightly to Danny, before grabbing him and tucking him to his side
.
“You better spread the love in my pants, I’m telling you.” mutters Danny, the ghost of a smile turning into an ear-to-ear one when Steve pecks his cheek. “So, where are you taking me, you giant marshmallow?”
“I present to you, dear hubby, Les Invalides “ Steve says with a perfect accent, embracing with one arm the grass fields where hundreds of people are playing soccer, rugby and various sports, enjoying the sunny and warm Sunday afternoon. They seem oblivious to the beautiful scenery the old buildings around provide, especially the palace at the end of the esplanade. A light breeze comes from the Seine, little birds whirl high in the crystal blue sky, their chirping resonating in the air. And, in a general indifference, The Eiffel Tower is peeking her head just above the roofs, as if she’s also enjoying her Sunday, observing the city at her feet.
“Okay, what’s the catch? I have a feeling we’re not going to have a picnic on the grass” Danny enquires, suspicious.
“Well… it’s a museum…” he replies sheepishly, going for an innocent look.
“Let me stop you right here. I know you, with your I-didn’t-do-anything-wrong-Danno-I-promise-he-started-it-don’t-be-angry-I-will-blow-you face, okay? It’s a military museum isn’t it?” he sighs, looking defeated at his partner.
“Hum, yes, kinda? But it also have Napoleon Bonaparte tomb! You love Napoleon Bonaparte!” says Steve, with all the enthusiasm in the world.
“For the love of God, McGarret!” cries Danny, pinching the bridge of his nose “for the hundredth time, I do not love Napoleon freakin’ Bonaparte! You decided, in some dark place of your brain, that I love the man, for the only reason that he was famously short! I do not feel like I share some sort of mystical bond through time and history with the poor guy! “
“You do have some things in common!”
“Please, by all means, enlighten me!”
“You’re both short men. No, please let me finish!” he interrupts, seeing Danny open his mouth to yell at him. “Okay, you’re both a little below the average, right? But you both did big things! He did some conquering and wars, and The Arc de Triomphe… And you, you do, well… me!” he finishes with a smug grin, pointing at his own chest. Danny can’t fight his own stupid smile as he slaps Steve on the head, before gripping him by his ugly-ass shirt to kiss him.
“I would like to point out, though, that Napoleon died on a fucking island in the middle of the ocean”.
But Steve isn’t really paying attention anymore, as he is observing a group of people playing flag football on the field. Danny stops next to him, grinning fondly at him as he gazes at the ball, eyes sparkling. He is beside himself when the ball rolls toward them, after the failed attempt at a spectacular catch of one of the player. It gives him an excuse to pick it and toss it in a flawless spin to the QB, in a concert of “thanks!” It lands perfectly in the guy’s hands, whom gives him a thumb up and yells at him that he is welcome to play with them every Sunday. He ducks his head, smiling, and answers that it would be a pleasure if he haves the occasion. He waves at the players before taking Danny’s hand, to continue their walk toward the museum.
“I swear, Steve, you’re just an over-sized puppy. You had exactly the same look as my Labrador Logan when he saw a squishy ball. If you had a tail, it would have wagged like crazy”
“Don’t worry, Danno, you’re the only one who can make my tail wags” he replies with a wolfish grin, squeezing his husband’s butt.
“I can see where the “dog” came from. I do. But Smooth is still a mystery. It was ironic; you will have to admit it someday. Also, when are you planning to feed me? Because I would like to remind the class that it was supposed to be my part of the trip to plan. I choose Paris, and you choose Biarritz, which is supposed to be some kind of French California, where you will be able to surf, for a change, and do all the crazy stuffs you like to do before normal people will even think of open a eye, heck, at a time at which a lot of people are just getting in bed!”
“You didn’t plan a single thing!”
“That’s what makes the beauty of it, you moron! My plan was to stay in bed with my control freak husband, doing filthy, filthy things to him until like, noon” he ticks on his fingers “then go to brunch with tons of croissants and coffee, and maybe, after that, contented and full, I would have been to a museum or out for a walk somewhere. Some days, we would have been up a little bit earlier to go to lunch in a delicious restaurant, and then back to the hotel for a sieste crapuleuse.” He finishes, wriggling his eyebrows at Steve, who rolls his eyes.
“Why am I not surprised that you know the French for naughty nap time?”
“Are you missing the point, here? My plan was food and hot sex. Tons, and tons of them” he declares, looking Steve straight in the eye, so close that they’re breathing the same air. The SEAL gulps visibly, the tip of his ears reddening.
“So… hum… room service at the hotel?”
“Alleluia!” cries Danny, throwing his arms in the air “he saw the light, mesdames et messieurs!”
Author: wolwiegirl3
Rating: PG-13, for swearing and allusion
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Steve/Danny
Genre: humor,fluff
Warning: none
Spoilers: nah
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money from this
Author Notes: So, this whole thing started with the Take Your Fandom Home Day at leupagus . I didn't really plan to write this "soon" in this fandom, but once I started, it wouldn't go away
Summary: The boys on honeymoon in Paris
Word Count: 1293
A/N: I played a little bit with it since I first posted it, for the better in my opinion ^^. It's still Unbeta-ed though, and as you may have guessed, english isn't my first language, so don't hesitate to point me any mistakes !
A/N: So, I currently live in Paris for my studies, which explain how this came up. But the truth is that I come from a little seaside town in the South of France, Biarritz, and I felt a little bit of a traitor to not write about, which is why there is a sequel coming ! \o/
A/N: the little inside joke to myself is that I am part of the group of people playing flag football on Sundays ^^
“Come on, Danno, you must be the only person in the world who found a way to be cranky on his honeymoon in Paris.”
“I have nothing against the city, the city is beautiful. I have a problem with being up and walking since the crack of dawn at my husband’s crazy military pace, following his crazy military schedule, which is typed, and organized by color, may I add. And I’m pretty sure that if I look at it, I will find the GPS coordinates of every place we’re going to. I’m exhausted, that is my problem, and it’s only 14h30” finishes Danny, hands flying around, getting him nasty looks from the others pedestrians on the Alexandre III bridge.
“It’s called organization.” pouts Steve, “There is nothing wrong with it” he murmurs to himself, more than to his companion who isn’t listening anyway.
“And don’t get me starting on the people here. What is wrong with them? It’s the city of love, for Christ’s sake, why do I hate most of them, huh? And what happened to the infamous French elegance? Why is it so much people wearing sweatpants without looking like they’re going to the gym?”
“That’s was just a bunch of punks, Danny”
“Even in Jersey, they have more class, I am not kidding you. And I know even if I don’t speak a word of French, that they were making fun of me.”
“They talked really fast and with a lot of slang, I swear I didn’t get it” answers Steve, hand in front of him, trying to calm Danny. “But you know, you’re wearing a tie. On holidays.” He grins.
“I am not, I am not, my friend” the shorter man replies, his finger pointed to the SEAL face “taking any crappy fashion advice from a oversized fucker wearing a fucking Hawaiian shirt”
“It’s a wedding gift from Chin!” cries Steve in outrage “I want to wear it on the pictures. And it makes me an Aloha ambassador in the world. You know, spreading the love and stuff “ he opens his arms, smiling brightly to Danny, before grabbing him and tucking him to his side
.
“You better spread the love in my pants, I’m telling you.” mutters Danny, the ghost of a smile turning into an ear-to-ear one when Steve pecks his cheek. “So, where are you taking me, you giant marshmallow?”
“I present to you, dear hubby, Les Invalides “ Steve says with a perfect accent, embracing with one arm the grass fields where hundreds of people are playing soccer, rugby and various sports, enjoying the sunny and warm Sunday afternoon. They seem oblivious to the beautiful scenery the old buildings around provide, especially the palace at the end of the esplanade. A light breeze comes from the Seine, little birds whirl high in the crystal blue sky, their chirping resonating in the air. And, in a general indifference, The Eiffel Tower is peeking her head just above the roofs, as if she’s also enjoying her Sunday, observing the city at her feet.
“Okay, what’s the catch? I have a feeling we’re not going to have a picnic on the grass” Danny enquires, suspicious.
“Well… it’s a museum…” he replies sheepishly, going for an innocent look.
“Let me stop you right here. I know you, with your I-didn’t-do-anything-wrong-Danno-I-promise-he-started-it-don’t-be-angry-I-will-blow-you face, okay? It’s a military museum isn’t it?” he sighs, looking defeated at his partner.
“Hum, yes, kinda? But it also have Napoleon Bonaparte tomb! You love Napoleon Bonaparte!” says Steve, with all the enthusiasm in the world.
“For the love of God, McGarret!” cries Danny, pinching the bridge of his nose “for the hundredth time, I do not love Napoleon freakin’ Bonaparte! You decided, in some dark place of your brain, that I love the man, for the only reason that he was famously short! I do not feel like I share some sort of mystical bond through time and history with the poor guy! “
“You do have some things in common!”
“Please, by all means, enlighten me!”
“You’re both short men. No, please let me finish!” he interrupts, seeing Danny open his mouth to yell at him. “Okay, you’re both a little below the average, right? But you both did big things! He did some conquering and wars, and The Arc de Triomphe… And you, you do, well… me!” he finishes with a smug grin, pointing at his own chest. Danny can’t fight his own stupid smile as he slaps Steve on the head, before gripping him by his ugly-ass shirt to kiss him.
“I would like to point out, though, that Napoleon died on a fucking island in the middle of the ocean”.
But Steve isn’t really paying attention anymore, as he is observing a group of people playing flag football on the field. Danny stops next to him, grinning fondly at him as he gazes at the ball, eyes sparkling. He is beside himself when the ball rolls toward them, after the failed attempt at a spectacular catch of one of the player. It gives him an excuse to pick it and toss it in a flawless spin to the QB, in a concert of “thanks!” It lands perfectly in the guy’s hands, whom gives him a thumb up and yells at him that he is welcome to play with them every Sunday. He ducks his head, smiling, and answers that it would be a pleasure if he haves the occasion. He waves at the players before taking Danny’s hand, to continue their walk toward the museum.
“I swear, Steve, you’re just an over-sized puppy. You had exactly the same look as my Labrador Logan when he saw a squishy ball. If you had a tail, it would have wagged like crazy”
“Don’t worry, Danno, you’re the only one who can make my tail wags” he replies with a wolfish grin, squeezing his husband’s butt.
“I can see where the “dog” came from. I do. But Smooth is still a mystery. It was ironic; you will have to admit it someday. Also, when are you planning to feed me? Because I would like to remind the class that it was supposed to be my part of the trip to plan. I choose Paris, and you choose Biarritz, which is supposed to be some kind of French California, where you will be able to surf, for a change, and do all the crazy stuffs you like to do before normal people will even think of open a eye, heck, at a time at which a lot of people are just getting in bed!”
“You didn’t plan a single thing!”
“That’s what makes the beauty of it, you moron! My plan was to stay in bed with my control freak husband, doing filthy, filthy things to him until like, noon” he ticks on his fingers “then go to brunch with tons of croissants and coffee, and maybe, after that, contented and full, I would have been to a museum or out for a walk somewhere. Some days, we would have been up a little bit earlier to go to lunch in a delicious restaurant, and then back to the hotel for a sieste crapuleuse.” He finishes, wriggling his eyebrows at Steve, who rolls his eyes.
“Why am I not surprised that you know the French for naughty nap time?”
“Are you missing the point, here? My plan was food and hot sex. Tons, and tons of them” he declares, looking Steve straight in the eye, so close that they’re breathing the same air. The SEAL gulps visibly, the tip of his ears reddening.
“So… hum… room service at the hotel?”
“Alleluia!” cries Danny, throwing his arms in the air “he saw the light, mesdames et messieurs!”