Comfort
Title: Comfort
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 1,224
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For
kink_bingo 2011: washing/cleaning. You have been warned. Post 2x01. Contains spoilers.
Summary: Somewhere along the line, they lose track of who's comforting whom.
Danny drives Steve home after they’ve decided that enough beer has been consumed to officially call it a night. He follows Steve inside and locks the door behind him, then goes upstairs after his partner.
Steve is sitting on the bed when Danny looks into the room. He’s propped up against the headboard, and he turns his head to watch Danny when Danny stops at the door. “Thought you were going.”
“Not so much,” Danny disagrees. “I’m pretty sure you could use the company.”
“I can sleep by myself,” Steve replies. There’s a flash of something across his face before he forces it away, but Danny sees it anyway - I managed well enough when you left last time.
“But you don’t have to,” Danny counters. He’s still standing in the doorway, still waiting for Steve to give the all-clear that Danny’s allowed into the room - into a lot more than that, Danny knows, but he’s trying not to think too hard about it, in case the answer is no.
“I guess I don’t,” Steve says after a minute. Danny smiles, relieved, and steps into the room. He starts getting ready for bed; it’s been a long day on top of a long week, and Steve’s first official act as the reinstated head of Five-0 had been to give them all a three-day weekend. Danny’s pretty sure he’ll sleep through most of it.
He’s halfway into bed when he pulls back and looks carefully at Steve, who keeps his eyes closed and pretends not to notice. Steve looks - well, not good, Danny thinks. He looks pale and tired, but he’s sweaty and grimy on top of that. Danny glances at the clock, does a little mental calculation, and slides back out of the bed.
“Come on,” he says when Steve opens his eyes questioningly. “You need a shower before you pass out. Let’s go.”
“Danny,” Steve groans, shutting his eyes again, but Danny leans over and tugs on Steve’s arm until he sits up. “This can’t wait until the morning?”
“You’ll thank me later,” Danny replies, herding Steve into the bathroom. He pulls off the pajamas he’d just gotten into - a pair of sweats that have been at Steve’s for ages and a faded Navy tee - and turns the water on. He glances back at Steve, surprised to find him fully clothed. “This’ll work better if you’re naked, Steve.”
Steve glares at him halfheartedly and winces as he raises his arms to pull his shirt off. The edge of the bandage peeks out from beneath Steve’s shirt, and Danny shakes his head. He wonders how he could possibly have forgotten that Steve is now sporting a stab wound in his gut.
“Come here,” he says gently, walking to where Steve is standing rather than waiting for him. He takes the hem of the shirt from Steve’s hands and pushes it up, guiding Steve to pull his right arm through first before lifting it over Steve’s head and sliding it down his left arm. Danny drops the shirt to the floor as Steve thumbs his pants open and pushes them down.
“If nothing else, at least now you won’t sleep in your clothes,” Danny remarks as they step into the shower. Danny keeps himself between the spray and Steve’s stomach, eyeing the bandage carefully.
“I should probably take it off,” Steve says, looking down at it. “We can put a new one on when we get out.”
Danny snorts. “We probably should have thought of that before getting in,” he points out, but he reaches for Steve anyway, pulls at the tape and carefully unwinds the gauze. There’s a square pad stuck to the wound itself, and Danny looks up at Steve before carefully pulling it free.
The stab wound is small; apparently Hesse hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t try to kill Steve. There are three neat stitches through the center, and Danny would admire Max’s handiwork more if it didn’t make him feel sick to look at it.
Steve is looking down at him when Danny glances up. “He barely even nicked me, Danny. I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” Danny says, swallowing. “Let me just…”
Danny takes Steve by the hips and gently turns them until Steve’s back is in the spray. Steve tilts his head back, letting the water run through his hair, and Danny reaches for the washcloth. He lathers it up and swipes it across Steve’s collarbone, and Steve tilts his head back down, a slight frown on his face. “Danny?”
Danny pauses. “Can I?” he asks, holding the washcloth still against Steve’s shoulder. His eyes flick involuntarily back to the stab wound before meeting Steve’s again. “Feel free to say no if-”
“Sure,” Steve says, tilting his head back beneath the spray. “Whatever you need, Danny.”
And isn’t that ironic, Danny thinks as he starts moving the washcloth again, that this is more about what Danny needs than what Steve needs. By all rights, it should be the other way around, but somehow Danny’s not surprised.
He pays careful attention to the area around the wound. He knows that it probably hurts like it’s on fire right about now, but he’s had his own fair share of things that needed stitching, so he knows just the amount of pressure to put on the washcloth and exactly how slowly he needs to go. Steve hisses anyway, and Danny winces in sympathy. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s fine,” Steve says, curling his hand around Danny’s bicep. “I’m good, Danny.”
“Okay,” Danny murmurs. He reaches out to grab Steve’s hips again, turning them until Steve is out of the water again. “Spin around so I can do your back.”
There are no marks here, nothing that Danny has to watch out for, but he’s careful anyway; it takes him a full five minutes to make his way from the back of Steve’s neck to the top of his thighs. Steve hisses again, and Danny quickly pulls the washcloth away and looks down, but there’s nothing there, nothing that he might have inadvertently hurt. “Babe?”
“Danny,” Steve says, turning back around. Before Danny can form a response, Steve leans down and kisses him, soft and nearly sweet. Danny drops the washcloth and grabs Steve’s hips, remembering at the last second the reason for this whole exercise and skimming his hands down to grab at Steve’s thighs. It’s a little awkward, but Steve keeps kissing him, so Danny figures it probably doesn’t matter.
“You,” Steve says when they pull apart. “Five days I’m in jail, thinking I’ve lost you for good, that you’re going back with Rachel. But you’re here, you’re-”
Danny wonders how he ever could have thought he’d be able to leave this, leave Steve and his wondering happiness, this passion that he keeps locked away until you know where to look for it. He wonders if he would have been able to stay away.
It hurts a little less, when he thinks about it that way.
“I’m here,” Danny repeats, reaching up to cup Steve’s face in his hands. “Let’s get dry and put a bandage on your stomach, and I’ll show you just how here I am.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Steve points out, but he’s smiling that open, happy smile as he reaches around Danny to turn the water off.
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 1,224
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For
kink_bingo 2011: washing/cleaning. You have been warned. Post 2x01. Contains spoilers.
Summary: Somewhere along the line, they lose track of who's comforting whom.
Danny drives Steve home after they’ve decided that enough beer has been consumed to officially call it a night. He follows Steve inside and locks the door behind him, then goes upstairs after his partner.
Steve is sitting on the bed when Danny looks into the room. He’s propped up against the headboard, and he turns his head to watch Danny when Danny stops at the door. “Thought you were going.”
“Not so much,” Danny disagrees. “I’m pretty sure you could use the company.”
“I can sleep by myself,” Steve replies. There’s a flash of something across his face before he forces it away, but Danny sees it anyway - I managed well enough when you left last time.
“But you don’t have to,” Danny counters. He’s still standing in the doorway, still waiting for Steve to give the all-clear that Danny’s allowed into the room - into a lot more than that, Danny knows, but he’s trying not to think too hard about it, in case the answer is no.
“I guess I don’t,” Steve says after a minute. Danny smiles, relieved, and steps into the room. He starts getting ready for bed; it’s been a long day on top of a long week, and Steve’s first official act as the reinstated head of Five-0 had been to give them all a three-day weekend. Danny’s pretty sure he’ll sleep through most of it.
He’s halfway into bed when he pulls back and looks carefully at Steve, who keeps his eyes closed and pretends not to notice. Steve looks - well, not good, Danny thinks. He looks pale and tired, but he’s sweaty and grimy on top of that. Danny glances at the clock, does a little mental calculation, and slides back out of the bed.
“Come on,” he says when Steve opens his eyes questioningly. “You need a shower before you pass out. Let’s go.”
“Danny,” Steve groans, shutting his eyes again, but Danny leans over and tugs on Steve’s arm until he sits up. “This can’t wait until the morning?”
“You’ll thank me later,” Danny replies, herding Steve into the bathroom. He pulls off the pajamas he’d just gotten into - a pair of sweats that have been at Steve’s for ages and a faded Navy tee - and turns the water on. He glances back at Steve, surprised to find him fully clothed. “This’ll work better if you’re naked, Steve.”
Steve glares at him halfheartedly and winces as he raises his arms to pull his shirt off. The edge of the bandage peeks out from beneath Steve’s shirt, and Danny shakes his head. He wonders how he could possibly have forgotten that Steve is now sporting a stab wound in his gut.
“Come here,” he says gently, walking to where Steve is standing rather than waiting for him. He takes the hem of the shirt from Steve’s hands and pushes it up, guiding Steve to pull his right arm through first before lifting it over Steve’s head and sliding it down his left arm. Danny drops the shirt to the floor as Steve thumbs his pants open and pushes them down.
“If nothing else, at least now you won’t sleep in your clothes,” Danny remarks as they step into the shower. Danny keeps himself between the spray and Steve’s stomach, eyeing the bandage carefully.
“I should probably take it off,” Steve says, looking down at it. “We can put a new one on when we get out.”
Danny snorts. “We probably should have thought of that before getting in,” he points out, but he reaches for Steve anyway, pulls at the tape and carefully unwinds the gauze. There’s a square pad stuck to the wound itself, and Danny looks up at Steve before carefully pulling it free.
The stab wound is small; apparently Hesse hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t try to kill Steve. There are three neat stitches through the center, and Danny would admire Max’s handiwork more if it didn’t make him feel sick to look at it.
Steve is looking down at him when Danny glances up. “He barely even nicked me, Danny. I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” Danny says, swallowing. “Let me just…”
Danny takes Steve by the hips and gently turns them until Steve’s back is in the spray. Steve tilts his head back, letting the water run through his hair, and Danny reaches for the washcloth. He lathers it up and swipes it across Steve’s collarbone, and Steve tilts his head back down, a slight frown on his face. “Danny?”
Danny pauses. “Can I?” he asks, holding the washcloth still against Steve’s shoulder. His eyes flick involuntarily back to the stab wound before meeting Steve’s again. “Feel free to say no if-”
“Sure,” Steve says, tilting his head back beneath the spray. “Whatever you need, Danny.”
And isn’t that ironic, Danny thinks as he starts moving the washcloth again, that this is more about what Danny needs than what Steve needs. By all rights, it should be the other way around, but somehow Danny’s not surprised.
He pays careful attention to the area around the wound. He knows that it probably hurts like it’s on fire right about now, but he’s had his own fair share of things that needed stitching, so he knows just the amount of pressure to put on the washcloth and exactly how slowly he needs to go. Steve hisses anyway, and Danny winces in sympathy. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s fine,” Steve says, curling his hand around Danny’s bicep. “I’m good, Danny.”
“Okay,” Danny murmurs. He reaches out to grab Steve’s hips again, turning them until Steve is out of the water again. “Spin around so I can do your back.”
There are no marks here, nothing that Danny has to watch out for, but he’s careful anyway; it takes him a full five minutes to make his way from the back of Steve’s neck to the top of his thighs. Steve hisses again, and Danny quickly pulls the washcloth away and looks down, but there’s nothing there, nothing that he might have inadvertently hurt. “Babe?”
“Danny,” Steve says, turning back around. Before Danny can form a response, Steve leans down and kisses him, soft and nearly sweet. Danny drops the washcloth and grabs Steve’s hips, remembering at the last second the reason for this whole exercise and skimming his hands down to grab at Steve’s thighs. It’s a little awkward, but Steve keeps kissing him, so Danny figures it probably doesn’t matter.
“You,” Steve says when they pull apart. “Five days I’m in jail, thinking I’ve lost you for good, that you’re going back with Rachel. But you’re here, you’re-”
Danny wonders how he ever could have thought he’d be able to leave this, leave Steve and his wondering happiness, this passion that he keeps locked away until you know where to look for it. He wonders if he would have been able to stay away.
It hurts a little less, when he thinks about it that way.
“I’m here,” Danny repeats, reaching up to cup Steve’s face in his hands. “Let’s get dry and put a bandage on your stomach, and I’ll show you just how here I am.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Steve points out, but he’s smiling that open, happy smile as he reaches around Danny to turn the water off.