Law of Averages - Steve/Danny - R
Apologies for not posting a gift yesterday! The last gift will go up tomorrow.
Author: imaginarycircus
Recipient: portraitofafool
Title: Law of Averages
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Steve/Danny
Summary: Steve and Danny are trapped in a cabin during a hurricane.
Warnings: Angst, rough/angry sex, orgasm denial
Word Count: 3,600
Disclaimer: All Hawaii Five-0 characters herein are the property of CBS. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Author's Notes: I was worried I couldn't make this angsty or dark enough! Thanks to S and S for the beta reads. And thanks to T for her encouragement.
They break into an empty cabin before the rain starts to come down like it means business, but Danny is not appeased. He dumps Steve, who's ankle is positively killing him, into a chair and then Danny paces back and forth in the small open space between the decrepit looking bed and wobbly table. His wet hair and clothes plastered to him, arms waving like he is trying to land thirteen airplanes at once.
"You said hurricanes almost never hit Hawaii. You showed me statistics! You took me to talk to that meteorologist who showed me models of how the storm would probably peter out and miss the island of Oahu all together. So why? Why are we stuck in a cabin that will probably blow down in a light breeze, half way down a mountain in a HURRICANE? Steven. A hurricane! I knew it. I knew I shouldn't go camping with you when a hurricane is coming!"
"Danny-"
"Naval intelligence, my ass. Why do I let you get me into these messes? It's those damn color-changing eyes of yours. You get all excited, all lit up inside and I can't say no and now I am going to die without seeing my daughter ever again and it's all your fault!"
"Danny!" Steve stands on his good leg and looms, using his height to get Danny's attention and shut him up. "I'm sorry. This is very unusual. You know I'd never put you in danger." He lays his hands on Danny's shoulders and squeezes. Steve knows that Danny is too prickly to let himself be pulled into a hug, but he deflates a little under Steve's hands.
"I know, babe. I know. Sit down, before you make your ankle worse," he says without looking at Steve. He holds up his phone. "Damn it. No signal." He smoothes his hair back and plucks at his shirt, finally seeming to notice that they are both soaked to the bone.
Kono called hours before the storm had been due to hit and they'd started the long hike back to Steve's truck, but Steve had slipped on some loose rocks and that had slowed them down. They'd made it about halfway down when the rain had started, the wind was whipping and they could go no further, but they'd stumbled on the cabin.
"Let's dry off." Steve starts to strip off his clothes and Danny nods and does the same. They live together, sleep together, so hanging out naked in a cabin in a hurricane is not all that weird. They hang their clothes on the backs of the rickety chairs surrounding a small wooden table. Steve hobbles about, not wanting to set his bare ass on the scratchy blanket on the bed, though he's slept on worse. Danny's feet whisper against the wooden floorboards as he moves about the single room of the cabin. Steve feels a knot in his gut unfurl and he feels like he can breathe deeply for the first time in hours.
"Let's see what kind of supplies we've got around here," Steve says, trying to sound chipper. It's gotten very dark out, and the sky is a threatening greenish-gray. He digs a headlamp out of his pack and puts it on and ignores Danny's pointed laughter. He's sure he looks ridiculous naked and wearing a headlamp, he really doesn't need the confirmation, but he's glad Danny can relax into laughter.
"Hey, this is good. There's some canned food here and a kerosene lamp. I've got matches in my pack. And there's a weather radio here too." Steve flips it on and the announcer's voice is scratchy, but since neither of their phones is working, it's the best they are going to get for news about the storm.
"…maximum sustained wind speeds of one hundred miles an hour, making this a category two hurricane on the Saffir-Simpson hurricane scale. We expect Kenneth to make landfall in Honolulu sometime this evening. The storm is moving north-west at 14 miles per hour. Expect locally intense rainfall over most of Oahu. The Governor has already ordered a mandatory evacuation for residents who live along the coast from Ewa Beach to Waimanlo Beach…"
"Shit." Danny starts to pace again.
"You know that Rachel and Stan have taken Grace somewhere safe. Hell, they might've even left the island. " Steve turned the radio off. "We should conserve the batteries. We can check again in a while for an update."
"Steve, it's not just Grace, but yeah I'm worried about her. I should have called her when we heard from Kono, but I didn't want to worry her. I'd like to know that she's safe. I'd like to hear her voice, tell her it's going to be OK. But it's not just that. We live in the evacuation zone. Aren't you worried about the house?"
Steve shakes his head. "I have insurance. Whatever happens-we can deal with it."
"You know, sometimes I really don't get you. You're like an automaton-"
"Why? Because I don't get hysterical, Danny?"
"Are you calling me hysterical? Are you implying that I get hysterical? Because if you are, Steven? Fuck you. You can sleep on the floor and I am taking the bed."
Danny throws himself on the creaking bed, that is only big enough to sleep two if those two really, really like each other.
"We should eat something. You get cranky when you're blood sugar is low." Steve peruses the cans. "Do you want chipped beef, or cling peaches in syrup?"
"Are you serious? No, thank you. I don’t want food poisoning," Danny says without turning over. Steve resists reaching to pat the golden thatch of hair on the small of Danny's back and concedes privately that Danny has a point about their house and truth be told-yeah, Steve is worried about the house, but he can't see any point in feeding Danny's upset. Though maybe this is one of those things Danny had been haranguing Steve about-empathy-commiserating. Maybe agreeing with Danny will make them both feel better?
Steve sets the can of chipped beef on the table and sits down on the bed next to Danny. The blanket immediately makes him itch all over and Steve wonders how Danny can lie on it like that. The beam from Steve's headlamp lights up Danny's ass like a spot light.
"Stop ogling my ass."
Steve slips the lamp from his head and twists the light off. It's probably better to conserve the batteries.
"Look, I'm worried about Grace and about the house, but since there's nothing I can do about either one-I figured there wasn't any point in talking about it."
Danny turns over and his eyes gleam in the dim light. "That's what I've been trying to explain to you, about empathy. It doesn't actually make anyone feel better when you pull your strong, silent type routine."
"You mean it doesn't make you feel better." Steve wonders if that was the wrong thing to say and braces himself for a tongue-lashing.
"Well, who the hell else is here in this cabin with you? Never mind in a relationship with you, you goof. Who the hell else would be willing to put up with you?"
"Hey, I'm a catch. I'm easy on the eyes and I know sixteen ways to kill a man with a stick of gum and a pocket-handkerchief, according to you. So I'm handy."
"Handsy. I said you're handsy." Danny pulls Steve down into a kiss and Steve lets the fight go out of him. Commiserating was the right move, and never let it be said he can't learn, especially when he is rewarded with Danny spread out next to him.
Since they are already naked, it's not long before Steve gets up and roots around in his pack for the lube and a condom and hands them to Danny, but Danny doesn't take them. He's staring at something on the end of the bed.
"Turn on your headlamp," he says through his teeth.
Steve picks the lamp up off the floor and shines it at the end of the bed, where there is a medium-sized lizard lounging. Danny skitters back against the wall, but doesn't make a noise. Steve knows Danny is not a big fan of lizards, so he gets up, gingerly grabs the critter by the tail, and puts him outside in the rain.
"What did you do that for?" Danny demands.
"What?"
"Put him out there to drown, you animal." Danny scoots off the bed and heads for the door.
"Danny, he's a lizard. He's fine."
"Oh, so now you're an expert on lizards, huh?" Danny is shivering.
Steve attempts to drag Danny back to the bed and under the thin blanket, but Danny pushes his hands away. Steve loses his balance, but Danny grabs him and holds him up.
"What are you doing?" Danny says.
"You're freezing. I'm trying to get you under the covers." Steve realizes too late he should have explained that to Danny first instead of trying to manhandle him. He's not thinking entirely straight and they've only been stuck in this damn cabin for an hour. The next twenty-four are not going to be fun.
"I'm dry enough to get dressed." Danny is obviously not in the mood anymore and Steve, disappointed, watches him put on dry clothes from his pack. He was really looking forward to getting fucked and he likes it all the more when Danny is a little angry, or on edge. He wonders if that makes him weird?
"So what else do we have to eat besides things I wouldn't feed a dog," Danny sits down and folds his arms on the table.
"I can make some spaghetti?" Steve gets dressed, puts his head lamp back on (ignoring Danny's snort of derision), then unpacks his camp stove and sets it up on the small, cluttered counter. Making the spaghetti doesn't take nearly long enough and Danny says nothing, but sighs heavily about every five seconds. They eat in silence and Steve starts washing their camping dishes in the small sink. He hums "It's a Grand Old Flag" because it's rattling around in his head and oddly, it helps him balance on one leg.
"Could you please stop humming that? Please?" Danny slaps his hands on the table.
"Sorry," Steve says, though he isn't. Danny needs something to focus on, and even though it might make things worse, Steve suggests they check the weather radio. He limps across the room and flips on the radio.
The storm has only moved twenty miles since they last listened and rain is pelting the roof and the wind is making the trees around them toss and twist like mad. Danny's worry lines deepen and Steve flicks the radio off. OK, not a good idea.
"You can't, like, somehow MacGyver this radio into a two way radio so we can let everyone know we're OK."
Steve shakes his head and bites his tongue to hide his laughter. Sometimes the things Danny thinks he might be able to do are so funny. And then he can't hold it in anymore. He laughs until tears start running down his face and he has to lean against the wall to stay upright. Danny is not amused.
"Excuse me for wanting our friends and family to know we're safe," Danny says. He is drumming his fingers angrily on the table and looks like he is about to blow a gasket.
When Steve gets some breath back, he says, "No. I was just laughing at the things you think I might be able to do."
"Oh, so my esteem is funny. Fuck you." Danny gets up and finishes washing the dishes in the rusty old sink. If they weren't metal camp dishes, they'd be smashed to pieces.
Steve hobbles over to dry the gear, but Danny glares at him so sharply that Steve retreats to the bed and pulls back the itchy blanket. His ankle is throbbing, but he's walked miles with a busted kneecap before so this is nothing. Still he should probably wrap it in an ACE bandage. He puts on his headlamp and pulls a small first aid kit out of his pack.
Danny hisses when the light falls across Steve's purple, swollen ankle. "What the hell are you doing standing up and moving around on that thing? Are you insane? You know what. Never mind. I know you are. I wish we had some ice."
"Well, I can do compression," Steve holds up the ace bandage, "and rest, and elevation."
Danny finishes drying the dishes, while Steve wraps the bandage around his bad ankle. The compression feels kind of good. He rolls the scratchy blanket into a bolster and sets his ankle on it and lies down. It's only marginal elevation, but his ankle is higher than his heart, so it counts.
Danny swears. He is fumbling with the camp stove, trying to collapse it. Steve is about to offer to show him how to twist it the right way to pack it away, when Danny snaps and throws it against the wall, except he misses and it sails through the window next to the bed with a great crash.
Steve stares at Danny for a moment, unable to say anything. Rain is blowing in sideways through the missing half of the window and is soaking Steve and the bed. At least the glass shards all went outside with Steve's camp stove. Steve thinks about getting mad, but tamps the feeling down. He knows Danny has a short fuse and this situation is setting him off in a big way. Steve has seen it before, cabin fever, just never this rapid of an onset; trust Danny to break all land-speed records for going stir crazy.
Danny looks like he can't quite believe he did that. He scrubs his face over his hand. "Sorry," he says.
Steve says, "Just help me move the bed."
Only the cabin is so small that there isn't a dry spot to move the bed into.
"Let's cover up the window. There's a tarp in my pack," Steve says, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he bends to get the tarp.
They manage to nail the tarp up with some rusty screws they find on the floor, using one of Steve's boots, and sheer force. The rain is dripping down the wall beneath the window now, but it's better.
"Sorry," Danny shakes his head and wipes the water off his face and arms. "I don't know why I did that. I just lost my shit."
"It's cool. I didn't really like that stove anyway," Steve says.
Danny gives him a sheepish smile and then puts his hands on his hips. "Here, put your ankle back up before it falls off or something. If you get gangrene, I don't want you bitching at me."
"It's highly unlikely I'm going to get gangrene from a sprained ankle, Danny." Steve puts considerably more scorn in his words than he feels.
"Well, fuck you." Danny stops fussing with the scratchy-blanket-bolster and walks away, but there isn't much of anywhere to go in the tiny, dark cabin.
"You keep saying that. Money where your mouth is, Williams," Steve taunts.
Danny flaps a hand dismissively at Steve.
"Why? Don't you like me anymore, Danny?" Steve fake pouts, finding it hard to keep his anger at Danny and their situation contained.
"Actually, I don't really like you right now, no. You're like some kind of freaking ninja, except when I need you to be. I needed you to get us home, or to HQ safely, and you fucking fell. What kind of ninja falls and sprains his ankle? It's like you did it on purpose. To get me here."
"Why would I want to get you here?" They are both shouting now. "That doesn't make any sense. My God you are so stupid sometimes."
"I don't know how your brain works, do I? You're a fucking nutbar. You probably think this is romantic. All that's missing is sniper fire and a government coup."
"You think you know me?" Steve demands. "You don't fucking know me!"
"Oh, I know you." Danny's voice has gone low and dangerous. He grabs Steve's belt and yanks it out of its loops, tearing a few. "I know this is turning you on, because you're sick fuck."
"Shut up," Steve says and screws his eyes shut. He is breathing hard and he fights the strong urge he feels in his gut to punch Danny. Danny rips Steve's cargo pants open, spraying buttons into the dim light of the room, before roughly shucking Steve of his pants and boxers. Steve is not into it, but at the same time he's hard enough to hammer those damn screws into the wall with his dick. Maybe he's into it a little. Maybe.
Danny positions Steve at the edge of the bed so that his hips align with Steve's ass and then he dumps lube on his fingers and shoves two of them into Steve, who grunts at the sudden invasion. Danny stretches Steve open badly and quickly.
"Don't tell me what I know, Steven. I know you. I live with you and your stupid Navy showers. Your eight million goddamn rules. You know, normal people don't measure their cereal with a measuring cup and they sure as hell don't glare at everyone who doesn't. So what if I want a second bowl of cereal? I'm a grown up. I can eat as much cereal as I want."
Danny drops his own pants and slips on the condom Steve had given him earlier. Steve half wants to stop Danny, calm him down, and then proceed more slowly, but he senses that Danny needed this release, this edge. So Steve lets him, but part of him likes it. Part of him really is a sick fuck, like Danny said.
Danny plows his way inside Steve and starts pumping and snapping his hips before he even get all the way in. He isn't careful with Steve's injured ankle and bumps it several times. Pain shoots through Steve's leg and distracts him from the ass pounding he is getting. The pain does not add any pleasure to being fucked so roughly-but Steve can and will take it from Danny. He'd do almost anything for Danny.
Just when the fucking finally begins to feel good, Danny comes and collapses. He withdraws ungently and flings himself down on the bed next to Steve, who still has a raging hard on. Neither of them make a move to take care of that though.
"Do you want me to?" Danny says, grudgingly.
"No, it'd just hurt my ankle probably. I'll be fine." Steve says, but really he just doesn't feel like he deserves to feel good after getting Danny trapped out here.
"Yeah," Danny says, his voice heavy with sleep. Soon he is snoring and Steve puts his boxers back on and tried to sleep too, but both his ankle and his ass are throbbing too steadily. There're some painkillers in his pack so he gets them out. He takes them and they help take the edge off, but Steve lies awake and slowly watches the light grow brighter in the room. Either the storm is passing, or it's dawn, or maybe both. His phone is dead and his concept of time has gotten distorted. He doesn't check his watch, but he couldn't say exactly why he's happier not knowing how long they've been stuck in this one room hellhole.
He decides it's not his imagination. The rain is lessening. After what seems like hours longer, Steve drifts into a weird half-sleep and dreams about opening a boarding school in the Swiss mountains with Danny, although the Swiss mountains look awfully Hawaiian in his dream.
He wakes up when he feels Danny get out of the bed and go outside to pee. He comes back dry, so it must have stopped raining. Danny says nothing-just crosses the room to turn on the radio.
"Locally intense rains fell over portions on Oahu during the night of the first of October causing some flash flooding on Kaukonahua Stream and the overflow of Lake Wilson at Wahiawa Dam. Gauges also recorded 6 to 12 inches of rain fell in Nuuanu and Kalihi Valleys. Thunderstorms over eastern and central Kauai also produced very heavy rains during the night of 1 October with a peak 6-hour total of 6.17 inches recorded at Mount Waialeale. Flash flooding occurred on Hanalei River, which forced the closure of Kuhio Highway at the Hanalei Bridge…"
"Think you can walk?" Danny says.
"Of course," Steve gets dressed and sits on the edge of the bed and puts on one of his boots. His ankle is grossly swollen and he imagines, badly bruised. There is no way he can get his other boot on.
"Oh, babe. No." Danny takes one look at Steve's ankle and foot and tries his phone. He's got a signal now and just enough juice left to call for help. He gets Chin on the line and they figure out how to get Steve down the mountain.
"I'm never going hiking with you again," Danny says, while they wait for Search and Rescue to come get them, but he kisses Steve softly. And Steve figures Danny doesn't really mean it. There is still so much of the islands that Danny hasn't seen and Steve really can't get injured every time they hike or camp. The odds are simply against it.
Author: imaginarycircus
Recipient: portraitofafool
Title: Law of Averages
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Steve/Danny
Summary: Steve and Danny are trapped in a cabin during a hurricane.
Warnings: Angst, rough/angry sex, orgasm denial
Word Count: 3,600
Disclaimer: All Hawaii Five-0 characters herein are the property of CBS. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Author's Notes: I was worried I couldn't make this angsty or dark enough! Thanks to S and S for the beta reads. And thanks to T for her encouragement.
They break into an empty cabin before the rain starts to come down like it means business, but Danny is not appeased. He dumps Steve, who's ankle is positively killing him, into a chair and then Danny paces back and forth in the small open space between the decrepit looking bed and wobbly table. His wet hair and clothes plastered to him, arms waving like he is trying to land thirteen airplanes at once.
"You said hurricanes almost never hit Hawaii. You showed me statistics! You took me to talk to that meteorologist who showed me models of how the storm would probably peter out and miss the island of Oahu all together. So why? Why are we stuck in a cabin that will probably blow down in a light breeze, half way down a mountain in a HURRICANE? Steven. A hurricane! I knew it. I knew I shouldn't go camping with you when a hurricane is coming!"
"Danny-"
"Naval intelligence, my ass. Why do I let you get me into these messes? It's those damn color-changing eyes of yours. You get all excited, all lit up inside and I can't say no and now I am going to die without seeing my daughter ever again and it's all your fault!"
"Danny!" Steve stands on his good leg and looms, using his height to get Danny's attention and shut him up. "I'm sorry. This is very unusual. You know I'd never put you in danger." He lays his hands on Danny's shoulders and squeezes. Steve knows that Danny is too prickly to let himself be pulled into a hug, but he deflates a little under Steve's hands.
"I know, babe. I know. Sit down, before you make your ankle worse," he says without looking at Steve. He holds up his phone. "Damn it. No signal." He smoothes his hair back and plucks at his shirt, finally seeming to notice that they are both soaked to the bone.
Kono called hours before the storm had been due to hit and they'd started the long hike back to Steve's truck, but Steve had slipped on some loose rocks and that had slowed them down. They'd made it about halfway down when the rain had started, the wind was whipping and they could go no further, but they'd stumbled on the cabin.
"Let's dry off." Steve starts to strip off his clothes and Danny nods and does the same. They live together, sleep together, so hanging out naked in a cabin in a hurricane is not all that weird. They hang their clothes on the backs of the rickety chairs surrounding a small wooden table. Steve hobbles about, not wanting to set his bare ass on the scratchy blanket on the bed, though he's slept on worse. Danny's feet whisper against the wooden floorboards as he moves about the single room of the cabin. Steve feels a knot in his gut unfurl and he feels like he can breathe deeply for the first time in hours.
"Let's see what kind of supplies we've got around here," Steve says, trying to sound chipper. It's gotten very dark out, and the sky is a threatening greenish-gray. He digs a headlamp out of his pack and puts it on and ignores Danny's pointed laughter. He's sure he looks ridiculous naked and wearing a headlamp, he really doesn't need the confirmation, but he's glad Danny can relax into laughter.
"Hey, this is good. There's some canned food here and a kerosene lamp. I've got matches in my pack. And there's a weather radio here too." Steve flips it on and the announcer's voice is scratchy, but since neither of their phones is working, it's the best they are going to get for news about the storm.
"…maximum sustained wind speeds of one hundred miles an hour, making this a category two hurricane on the Saffir-Simpson hurricane scale. We expect Kenneth to make landfall in Honolulu sometime this evening. The storm is moving north-west at 14 miles per hour. Expect locally intense rainfall over most of Oahu. The Governor has already ordered a mandatory evacuation for residents who live along the coast from Ewa Beach to Waimanlo Beach…"
"Shit." Danny starts to pace again.
"You know that Rachel and Stan have taken Grace somewhere safe. Hell, they might've even left the island. " Steve turned the radio off. "We should conserve the batteries. We can check again in a while for an update."
"Steve, it's not just Grace, but yeah I'm worried about her. I should have called her when we heard from Kono, but I didn't want to worry her. I'd like to know that she's safe. I'd like to hear her voice, tell her it's going to be OK. But it's not just that. We live in the evacuation zone. Aren't you worried about the house?"
Steve shakes his head. "I have insurance. Whatever happens-we can deal with it."
"You know, sometimes I really don't get you. You're like an automaton-"
"Why? Because I don't get hysterical, Danny?"
"Are you calling me hysterical? Are you implying that I get hysterical? Because if you are, Steven? Fuck you. You can sleep on the floor and I am taking the bed."
Danny throws himself on the creaking bed, that is only big enough to sleep two if those two really, really like each other.
"We should eat something. You get cranky when you're blood sugar is low." Steve peruses the cans. "Do you want chipped beef, or cling peaches in syrup?"
"Are you serious? No, thank you. I don’t want food poisoning," Danny says without turning over. Steve resists reaching to pat the golden thatch of hair on the small of Danny's back and concedes privately that Danny has a point about their house and truth be told-yeah, Steve is worried about the house, but he can't see any point in feeding Danny's upset. Though maybe this is one of those things Danny had been haranguing Steve about-empathy-commiserating. Maybe agreeing with Danny will make them both feel better?
Steve sets the can of chipped beef on the table and sits down on the bed next to Danny. The blanket immediately makes him itch all over and Steve wonders how Danny can lie on it like that. The beam from Steve's headlamp lights up Danny's ass like a spot light.
"Stop ogling my ass."
Steve slips the lamp from his head and twists the light off. It's probably better to conserve the batteries.
"Look, I'm worried about Grace and about the house, but since there's nothing I can do about either one-I figured there wasn't any point in talking about it."
Danny turns over and his eyes gleam in the dim light. "That's what I've been trying to explain to you, about empathy. It doesn't actually make anyone feel better when you pull your strong, silent type routine."
"You mean it doesn't make you feel better." Steve wonders if that was the wrong thing to say and braces himself for a tongue-lashing.
"Well, who the hell else is here in this cabin with you? Never mind in a relationship with you, you goof. Who the hell else would be willing to put up with you?"
"Hey, I'm a catch. I'm easy on the eyes and I know sixteen ways to kill a man with a stick of gum and a pocket-handkerchief, according to you. So I'm handy."
"Handsy. I said you're handsy." Danny pulls Steve down into a kiss and Steve lets the fight go out of him. Commiserating was the right move, and never let it be said he can't learn, especially when he is rewarded with Danny spread out next to him.
Since they are already naked, it's not long before Steve gets up and roots around in his pack for the lube and a condom and hands them to Danny, but Danny doesn't take them. He's staring at something on the end of the bed.
"Turn on your headlamp," he says through his teeth.
Steve picks the lamp up off the floor and shines it at the end of the bed, where there is a medium-sized lizard lounging. Danny skitters back against the wall, but doesn't make a noise. Steve knows Danny is not a big fan of lizards, so he gets up, gingerly grabs the critter by the tail, and puts him outside in the rain.
"What did you do that for?" Danny demands.
"What?"
"Put him out there to drown, you animal." Danny scoots off the bed and heads for the door.
"Danny, he's a lizard. He's fine."
"Oh, so now you're an expert on lizards, huh?" Danny is shivering.
Steve attempts to drag Danny back to the bed and under the thin blanket, but Danny pushes his hands away. Steve loses his balance, but Danny grabs him and holds him up.
"What are you doing?" Danny says.
"You're freezing. I'm trying to get you under the covers." Steve realizes too late he should have explained that to Danny first instead of trying to manhandle him. He's not thinking entirely straight and they've only been stuck in this damn cabin for an hour. The next twenty-four are not going to be fun.
"I'm dry enough to get dressed." Danny is obviously not in the mood anymore and Steve, disappointed, watches him put on dry clothes from his pack. He was really looking forward to getting fucked and he likes it all the more when Danny is a little angry, or on edge. He wonders if that makes him weird?
"So what else do we have to eat besides things I wouldn't feed a dog," Danny sits down and folds his arms on the table.
"I can make some spaghetti?" Steve gets dressed, puts his head lamp back on (ignoring Danny's snort of derision), then unpacks his camp stove and sets it up on the small, cluttered counter. Making the spaghetti doesn't take nearly long enough and Danny says nothing, but sighs heavily about every five seconds. They eat in silence and Steve starts washing their camping dishes in the small sink. He hums "It's a Grand Old Flag" because it's rattling around in his head and oddly, it helps him balance on one leg.
"Could you please stop humming that? Please?" Danny slaps his hands on the table.
"Sorry," Steve says, though he isn't. Danny needs something to focus on, and even though it might make things worse, Steve suggests they check the weather radio. He limps across the room and flips on the radio.
The storm has only moved twenty miles since they last listened and rain is pelting the roof and the wind is making the trees around them toss and twist like mad. Danny's worry lines deepen and Steve flicks the radio off. OK, not a good idea.
"You can't, like, somehow MacGyver this radio into a two way radio so we can let everyone know we're OK."
Steve shakes his head and bites his tongue to hide his laughter. Sometimes the things Danny thinks he might be able to do are so funny. And then he can't hold it in anymore. He laughs until tears start running down his face and he has to lean against the wall to stay upright. Danny is not amused.
"Excuse me for wanting our friends and family to know we're safe," Danny says. He is drumming his fingers angrily on the table and looks like he is about to blow a gasket.
When Steve gets some breath back, he says, "No. I was just laughing at the things you think I might be able to do."
"Oh, so my esteem is funny. Fuck you." Danny gets up and finishes washing the dishes in the rusty old sink. If they weren't metal camp dishes, they'd be smashed to pieces.
Steve hobbles over to dry the gear, but Danny glares at him so sharply that Steve retreats to the bed and pulls back the itchy blanket. His ankle is throbbing, but he's walked miles with a busted kneecap before so this is nothing. Still he should probably wrap it in an ACE bandage. He puts on his headlamp and pulls a small first aid kit out of his pack.
Danny hisses when the light falls across Steve's purple, swollen ankle. "What the hell are you doing standing up and moving around on that thing? Are you insane? You know what. Never mind. I know you are. I wish we had some ice."
"Well, I can do compression," Steve holds up the ace bandage, "and rest, and elevation."
Danny finishes drying the dishes, while Steve wraps the bandage around his bad ankle. The compression feels kind of good. He rolls the scratchy blanket into a bolster and sets his ankle on it and lies down. It's only marginal elevation, but his ankle is higher than his heart, so it counts.
Danny swears. He is fumbling with the camp stove, trying to collapse it. Steve is about to offer to show him how to twist it the right way to pack it away, when Danny snaps and throws it against the wall, except he misses and it sails through the window next to the bed with a great crash.
Steve stares at Danny for a moment, unable to say anything. Rain is blowing in sideways through the missing half of the window and is soaking Steve and the bed. At least the glass shards all went outside with Steve's camp stove. Steve thinks about getting mad, but tamps the feeling down. He knows Danny has a short fuse and this situation is setting him off in a big way. Steve has seen it before, cabin fever, just never this rapid of an onset; trust Danny to break all land-speed records for going stir crazy.
Danny looks like he can't quite believe he did that. He scrubs his face over his hand. "Sorry," he says.
Steve says, "Just help me move the bed."
Only the cabin is so small that there isn't a dry spot to move the bed into.
"Let's cover up the window. There's a tarp in my pack," Steve says, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he bends to get the tarp.
They manage to nail the tarp up with some rusty screws they find on the floor, using one of Steve's boots, and sheer force. The rain is dripping down the wall beneath the window now, but it's better.
"Sorry," Danny shakes his head and wipes the water off his face and arms. "I don't know why I did that. I just lost my shit."
"It's cool. I didn't really like that stove anyway," Steve says.
Danny gives him a sheepish smile and then puts his hands on his hips. "Here, put your ankle back up before it falls off or something. If you get gangrene, I don't want you bitching at me."
"It's highly unlikely I'm going to get gangrene from a sprained ankle, Danny." Steve puts considerably more scorn in his words than he feels.
"Well, fuck you." Danny stops fussing with the scratchy-blanket-bolster and walks away, but there isn't much of anywhere to go in the tiny, dark cabin.
"You keep saying that. Money where your mouth is, Williams," Steve taunts.
Danny flaps a hand dismissively at Steve.
"Why? Don't you like me anymore, Danny?" Steve fake pouts, finding it hard to keep his anger at Danny and their situation contained.
"Actually, I don't really like you right now, no. You're like some kind of freaking ninja, except when I need you to be. I needed you to get us home, or to HQ safely, and you fucking fell. What kind of ninja falls and sprains his ankle? It's like you did it on purpose. To get me here."
"Why would I want to get you here?" They are both shouting now. "That doesn't make any sense. My God you are so stupid sometimes."
"I don't know how your brain works, do I? You're a fucking nutbar. You probably think this is romantic. All that's missing is sniper fire and a government coup."
"You think you know me?" Steve demands. "You don't fucking know me!"
"Oh, I know you." Danny's voice has gone low and dangerous. He grabs Steve's belt and yanks it out of its loops, tearing a few. "I know this is turning you on, because you're sick fuck."
"Shut up," Steve says and screws his eyes shut. He is breathing hard and he fights the strong urge he feels in his gut to punch Danny. Danny rips Steve's cargo pants open, spraying buttons into the dim light of the room, before roughly shucking Steve of his pants and boxers. Steve is not into it, but at the same time he's hard enough to hammer those damn screws into the wall with his dick. Maybe he's into it a little. Maybe.
Danny positions Steve at the edge of the bed so that his hips align with Steve's ass and then he dumps lube on his fingers and shoves two of them into Steve, who grunts at the sudden invasion. Danny stretches Steve open badly and quickly.
"Don't tell me what I know, Steven. I know you. I live with you and your stupid Navy showers. Your eight million goddamn rules. You know, normal people don't measure their cereal with a measuring cup and they sure as hell don't glare at everyone who doesn't. So what if I want a second bowl of cereal? I'm a grown up. I can eat as much cereal as I want."
Danny drops his own pants and slips on the condom Steve had given him earlier. Steve half wants to stop Danny, calm him down, and then proceed more slowly, but he senses that Danny needed this release, this edge. So Steve lets him, but part of him likes it. Part of him really is a sick fuck, like Danny said.
Danny plows his way inside Steve and starts pumping and snapping his hips before he even get all the way in. He isn't careful with Steve's injured ankle and bumps it several times. Pain shoots through Steve's leg and distracts him from the ass pounding he is getting. The pain does not add any pleasure to being fucked so roughly-but Steve can and will take it from Danny. He'd do almost anything for Danny.
Just when the fucking finally begins to feel good, Danny comes and collapses. He withdraws ungently and flings himself down on the bed next to Steve, who still has a raging hard on. Neither of them make a move to take care of that though.
"Do you want me to?" Danny says, grudgingly.
"No, it'd just hurt my ankle probably. I'll be fine." Steve says, but really he just doesn't feel like he deserves to feel good after getting Danny trapped out here.
"Yeah," Danny says, his voice heavy with sleep. Soon he is snoring and Steve puts his boxers back on and tried to sleep too, but both his ankle and his ass are throbbing too steadily. There're some painkillers in his pack so he gets them out. He takes them and they help take the edge off, but Steve lies awake and slowly watches the light grow brighter in the room. Either the storm is passing, or it's dawn, or maybe both. His phone is dead and his concept of time has gotten distorted. He doesn't check his watch, but he couldn't say exactly why he's happier not knowing how long they've been stuck in this one room hellhole.
He decides it's not his imagination. The rain is lessening. After what seems like hours longer, Steve drifts into a weird half-sleep and dreams about opening a boarding school in the Swiss mountains with Danny, although the Swiss mountains look awfully Hawaiian in his dream.
He wakes up when he feels Danny get out of the bed and go outside to pee. He comes back dry, so it must have stopped raining. Danny says nothing-just crosses the room to turn on the radio.
"Locally intense rains fell over portions on Oahu during the night of the first of October causing some flash flooding on Kaukonahua Stream and the overflow of Lake Wilson at Wahiawa Dam. Gauges also recorded 6 to 12 inches of rain fell in Nuuanu and Kalihi Valleys. Thunderstorms over eastern and central Kauai also produced very heavy rains during the night of 1 October with a peak 6-hour total of 6.17 inches recorded at Mount Waialeale. Flash flooding occurred on Hanalei River, which forced the closure of Kuhio Highway at the Hanalei Bridge…"
"Think you can walk?" Danny says.
"Of course," Steve gets dressed and sits on the edge of the bed and puts on one of his boots. His ankle is grossly swollen and he imagines, badly bruised. There is no way he can get his other boot on.
"Oh, babe. No." Danny takes one look at Steve's ankle and foot and tries his phone. He's got a signal now and just enough juice left to call for help. He gets Chin on the line and they figure out how to get Steve down the mountain.
"I'm never going hiking with you again," Danny says, while they wait for Search and Rescue to come get them, but he kisses Steve softly. And Steve figures Danny doesn't really mean it. There is still so much of the islands that Danny hasn't seen and Steve really can't get injured every time they hike or camp. The odds are simply against it.