Hawaii Five-O fic: A Little Bit of Ink (G)
Title: A Little Bit of Ink
Rating: G
Word count: 567
Beta: none
Characters/pairings: Danny Williams & Steve McGarrett (Danny/Steve, if you squint)
Summary: No, that’s not a tattoo. It’s naturally occurring skin pigmentation.
Warnings: none
Author's note: written for adafrog in honor of her birthday. I've never written this fandom before, so here's hoping I at least got the right tone between these two. Enjoy!
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“What is that?” Steve nods toward the patch of blue and pink and purple peeking out beneath Danny’s sleeve, stark white against the tanned skin of his arm.
Danny glances over at his partner, taking his attention from the road ahead for half a second. “What is what?”
“That.” Steve points. “Is that a tattoo?”
Danny returns his gaze to the winding road. “No, that’s not a tattoo. It’s naturally occurring skin pigmentation.” He glances at Steve again and then quickly back at the road, swallowing back a laugh. “Of course it’s a tattoo.” A loud snicker from the passenger seat causes him to look over at Steve once more. “What? What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing,” Steve deadpans.
“You are so laughing. Are you…? Are you laughing at me?” he asks, the picture of outrage.
“I’m not laughing.”
“The King of Ink is laughing at me for one tiny little tattoo? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not laughing,” Steve mildly repeats. “Wait. You think I’m the King of Ink?” Without even breaking a sweat, he thinks of a good dozen men and three women who have more and better ink on their bodies than he has.
“Yeah, you’re the King of Ink. Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject. And I’m not laughing.”
After that, for a good minute and a half, the only sound is the wind rushing past their ears, the tires singing against the macadam. The sun pulls free of its blanket of clouds only to be sucked back in a few seconds later.
“Theoretically,” Danny begins, still keeping his eyes on the road, “if you were laughing, which you claim you’re not, but if you were laughing…”
“What am I laughing at?”
“Exactly. What’re you laughing at?”
Steve grins at him, not the shit-eating, arrogant as hell grin he usually adopts, but more of an amused grin. “Never tattoo a woman’s name on your arm. It never ends well.”
Danny blinks, taken aback. “A woman’s name? This is not a woman’s name. It’s Grace.” He looks down at his own arm, at the bit of tattoo: his daughter’s name in elegant script, the tails of the letters morphing into vines with flowers and leaves, a colorful butterfly surrounding the name itself. “Well, technically, it’s Gracie, but it is most emphatically not a woman’s name.”
“Grace is a woman’s name,” Steve observes, one eyebrow raised.
“But Grac-ie is not a woman’s name,” Danny insists.
“Does Grace…” Steve begins, but then he catches the incipient frown on Danny’s brow. “I’m sorry, does Gracie know you’ve tattooed her name on your forearm?”
“No, she hasn’t seen it yet, but I’m sure she’ll love it. She’ll be flattered.” Danny’s voice is a little softer, a little less sure. What if she isn’t? he thinks. What if she hates it?
“Mm hmm. And how flattered will she be in fifteen years, when she brings home her first boyfriend to meet daddy?”
“What? No! There will be no boyfriends. Boys are nothing but trouble.” The very suggestion of boys and his Gracie is frankly terrifying.
“Mm hmm. Just like Gracie will always be a little girl.”
“She will be.” Danny’s tone is mutinous. Stubborn.
“She’s gonna grow up, Danno.”
“Doesn’t matter. She will always, always be my little girl. Now stop laughing.”
“I am not laughing.” Steven settles back into his seat, grinning hugely.
Rating: G
Word count: 567
Beta: none
Characters/pairings: Danny Williams & Steve McGarrett (Danny/Steve, if you squint)
Summary: No, that’s not a tattoo. It’s naturally occurring skin pigmentation.
Warnings: none
Author's note: written for adafrog in honor of her birthday. I've never written this fandom before, so here's hoping I at least got the right tone between these two. Enjoy!
-------------
“What is that?” Steve nods toward the patch of blue and pink and purple peeking out beneath Danny’s sleeve, stark white against the tanned skin of his arm.
Danny glances over at his partner, taking his attention from the road ahead for half a second. “What is what?”
“That.” Steve points. “Is that a tattoo?”
Danny returns his gaze to the winding road. “No, that’s not a tattoo. It’s naturally occurring skin pigmentation.” He glances at Steve again and then quickly back at the road, swallowing back a laugh. “Of course it’s a tattoo.” A loud snicker from the passenger seat causes him to look over at Steve once more. “What? What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing,” Steve deadpans.
“You are so laughing. Are you…? Are you laughing at me?” he asks, the picture of outrage.
“I’m not laughing.”
“The King of Ink is laughing at me for one tiny little tattoo? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not laughing,” Steve mildly repeats. “Wait. You think I’m the King of Ink?” Without even breaking a sweat, he thinks of a good dozen men and three women who have more and better ink on their bodies than he has.
“Yeah, you’re the King of Ink. Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject. And I’m not laughing.”
After that, for a good minute and a half, the only sound is the wind rushing past their ears, the tires singing against the macadam. The sun pulls free of its blanket of clouds only to be sucked back in a few seconds later.
“Theoretically,” Danny begins, still keeping his eyes on the road, “if you were laughing, which you claim you’re not, but if you were laughing…”
“What am I laughing at?”
“Exactly. What’re you laughing at?”
Steve grins at him, not the shit-eating, arrogant as hell grin he usually adopts, but more of an amused grin. “Never tattoo a woman’s name on your arm. It never ends well.”
Danny blinks, taken aback. “A woman’s name? This is not a woman’s name. It’s Grace.” He looks down at his own arm, at the bit of tattoo: his daughter’s name in elegant script, the tails of the letters morphing into vines with flowers and leaves, a colorful butterfly surrounding the name itself. “Well, technically, it’s Gracie, but it is most emphatically not a woman’s name.”
“Grace is a woman’s name,” Steve observes, one eyebrow raised.
“But Grac-ie is not a woman’s name,” Danny insists.
“Does Grace…” Steve begins, but then he catches the incipient frown on Danny’s brow. “I’m sorry, does Gracie know you’ve tattooed her name on your forearm?”
“No, she hasn’t seen it yet, but I’m sure she’ll love it. She’ll be flattered.” Danny’s voice is a little softer, a little less sure. What if she isn’t? he thinks. What if she hates it?
“Mm hmm. And how flattered will she be in fifteen years, when she brings home her first boyfriend to meet daddy?”
“What? No! There will be no boyfriends. Boys are nothing but trouble.” The very suggestion of boys and his Gracie is frankly terrifying.
“Mm hmm. Just like Gracie will always be a little girl.”
“She will be.” Danny’s tone is mutinous. Stubborn.
“She’s gonna grow up, Danno.”
“Doesn’t matter. She will always, always be my little girl. Now stop laughing.”
“I am not laughing.” Steven settles back into his seat, grinning hugely.