well within my reach
Title: well within my reach
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 1,719
Rating: PG
Notes: For shoot_the_curl. My prompt: "Loves sunsets and long walks on the beach." I totally recommend listening to this song while reading this fic.
Summary: Danny's pretty sure that tequila loves him more than Steve at this point.
ALSO, this fic is dedicated to theellibu. Happy birthday, dear!
“What are you doing?”
Steve’s voice is close - way close, Danny thinks, because the last time he’d seen Steve, it had been the view of Steve’s back as he’d run out of Danny’s apartment like his heels were on fire. Danny frowns into his glass, because Steve had left, so what’s he doing here?
“I’m drinking,” Danny informs Steve. “What are you doing?”
“Driving you home,” Steve says with a sigh. “Thanks for calling, Kohako.”
Danny frowns a little harder. He doesn’t remember calling Steve. And why is Steve calling him-
“No worries, brah,” the bartender says, smiling at Steve. “Just get him home and dry him out, okay?”
“Kohako!” Danny beams. “You are the man, Kohako. Have I told you that? You are the man.”
“Not in the last five minutes, no, you haven’t told me that,” Kohako says with a grin. “Thank you once again, Detective.”
“You’re welcome,” Danny replies, still smiling as he stands up and follows Steve to the door. “G’night, Kohako!”
Kohako shakes his head and waves.
Danny hums as he walks towards Steve’s truck. It’s pretty close to the building, and Danny frowns down at the blue lines on the pavement as he stands by the door, his fingers curled around the handle. It hits him after a minute or two, and he looks around for Steve, ready to start yelling. “Steve! Where did you go, you - you-”
“Danny,” Steve says. Danny turns and looks in through the open window of the door. Steve is smiling at him from the driver’s seat. “Get in the truck.”
“You’re not handicapped,” Danny says stubbornly. “I’m not getting in your truck if you can’t tell you’re not handicapped, Steve. You’re too drunk to drive, too.”
Steve sighs. “Danny, get in the truck.”
“No.”
“I parked close to the door so your drunk ass wouldn’t have to walk as far,” Steve snaps. “I haven’t been drinking. Do I have to put you in the truck myself?”
Danny considers it for a minute before deciding that, no, he really doesn’t want Steve to do that. He opens the door and climbs in.
They’re pulling out of the parking lot before Danny remembers. “Why are you here? You’re mad at me.”
Steve sighs again. “I’m not mad at you, Danny.”
“You were mad when you left,” Danny points out. “And you left tonight. That’s pretty fast.”
“I’m not mad,” Steve repeats. “Why were you trying to drown yourself in alcohol?”
“Tequila loves me, even if you don’t,” Danny says, and even as drunk as he is, he can see the way Steve’s fingers tighten around the wheel.
“You’re going to be hating tequila in about six hours, if I had to guess,” Steve replies, keeping his voice light as he pulls into his own driveway. “Come on.”
“Take me home,” Danny says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I did,” Steve says, getting out of the truck. “Come inside, Danny.”
“Take me home,” Danny insists. “If you don’t want me here, then why did you bring me here?”
“You are too drunk for this conversation right now,” Steve sighs, stalking around the front of the truck. Danny’s door opens suddenly, and it’s only his seat belt that keeps him from falling out of the truck. Steve leans over and unsnaps it, then pulls Danny out of the truck and somehow gets him to lean against the side as he closes the door and runs up the path to unlock the house. Danny stays stubbornly next to the truck for a minute, and then Steve is back next to him, muttering in a language that Danny can’t understand as he slings Danny’s arm over his shoulder and drags him up towards the house.
“Hey,” Danny says, trying to poke Steve in the chest. “Speak English.” He realizes that he’s actually sort of petting Steve’s chest instead, but hey, whatever. He keeps doing it.
“I am speaking English,” Steve says, pulling him into the house and aiming for the stairs. “I’m not surprised you can’t hear me well enough to understand it, though. How much did you have to drink?”
“A lot,” Danny says triumphantly. He blinks and looks around; they’re in Steve’s room. He doesn’t remember going up the stairs at all. “Why are we here?”
“You need to sleep this off, and then we need to talk,” Steve says, reaching out and pulling Danny’s tie off with a few quick motions. Danny’s shirt is next, and then Steve is shoving him onto the bed. Danny falls gracelessly, and Steve tugs his pants off and arranges Danny on the bed.
“Try to make it to the bathroom if you need to puke,” Steve says, but Danny’s eyes are already closed, and he doesn’t get the chance to reply before he’s asleep.
-0-
“Danny.”
“I’m calling in dead today,” Danny groans, his face buried in the pillow. “I’m dead, right? This is what dead feels like.”
“This is what most of a bottle of tequila feels like,” Steve says mildly. He’s probably not actually yelling, but his voice is louder than Danny can take right now. “Also, it’s Saturday. Sit up. I brought coffee.”
Danny squeezes his eyes shut, but the smell of the coffee drifts to his nose and he sighs. He drags himself somewhat upright and leans back against the headboard, holding his hands out in the general direction of Steve’s voice. He feels the mug press into his hands and pulls it back, taking a long swallow before attempting to open his eyes again.
Steve has pulled the curtains shut in his room, so it’s half-dark. Danny lets out a grateful sigh and downs another sip as Steve holds out his hand, something cupped in his palm. “Painkillers and a few multivitamins,” Steve says, dumping the fistful in Danny’s hand. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
“I love you,” Danny says. “No, seriously, I do. Coffee and Tylenol. This officially makes you my favorite adult in the world.”
Steve smiles. “Glad to hear it.”
Danny is almost finished with the coffee when he remembers why he’d been drinking. He freezes, mug at his lips, and swallows his mouthful before carefully setting the mug on the bedstand. He’d been feeling okay, other than the headache and the desperate need to brush his teeth, but now he’s wondering if the tequila is going to make an unwanted reappearance.
Steve notices the change in Danny’s mood. Of course he does. “Stop freaking out, Danny, okay?”
“No,” Danny replies. “I might be a little hazy on some of the details of last night, but no, I think I have a good enough reason to be upset right now.”
“We need to-”
“You came over, we were going to go out for a nice dinner, I tossed out the idea of maybe moving in, and you ran out of there like the hounds of Hell were chasing you,” Danny says, listing the facts as clinically as he can manage. “You can probably imagine why I might be a little confused when, after going out to get myself thoroughly drunk so I could forget that little sting, I wake up in bed with you.”
“The bartender called me,” Steve says, apparently ignoring the rest. “He cut you off after a while and was giving you water. He recognized you as Five-0, so he called me instead of getting you a cab.”
“That bastard,” Danny says with as much feeling as he can muster. “I was so sure I liked him, too.”
“You did,” Steve informs him. “Anyway, look-”
“Just take me home,” Danny says, suddenly exhausted all over again. He needs a shower and he needs his goddamned toothbrush, and this is going to get awkward, he can tell. “Look, just - I’m sorry I freaked you out, okay? It’s fine if you’re not ready, or you just don’t want me to move in, or whatever. I just thought, hey, we’ve been together almost two years, my lease is about to expire, maybe it’s time. But if it’s not, that’s fine, Steve. I don’t want to-”
Steve leans in and presses his mouth to Danny’s, burying a hand in Danny’s hair and nipping at his lips until Danny opens his mouth. Steve pulls back after a minute and rests his forehead against Danny’s. “Move in with me.”
“…what?” Danny asks after a full fifteen seconds of silence. “Did we not both have terrible nights last night because I asked you the very same question, or is that an alcohol-induced delusion on my part?”
“Look, I might have freaked out a little,” Steve admits. “I was expecting dinner, coming back for drinks on the lanai, maybe fooling around before going to sleep. I wasn’t really expecting you to drop that in my lap.”
“So, what, your dates have to be long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners and watching the sun go down over the water? It’s gotta go as you plan or-”
Steve kisses him again.
“Would you stop that?” Danny grumbles, but he doesn’t mean it and Steve knows it, if the grin on his face is anything to go by. “What are you saying here, anyway?”
“Move in with me,” Steve repeats. “I realized I made a mistake pretty much as soon as I got in my truck, Danny. I spent the next few hours driving around trying to think of a way to apologize to you, and then, well, Kohako called.”
“Ah,” Danny replies eloquently. “So you changed your mind?”
“I did.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I just kissed you twice, even though you’ve got hangover breath,” Steve points out. “You spend more time here than you do at your place. When you aren’t here, I’m usually wherever you are or wishing I was there. Grace has her own room.” He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure. I’m just sorry I ran out on you last night.”
“Ah,” Danny repeats. “In that case, let me go brush my teeth, and we can celebrate this properly.”
“Take a shower, too,” Steve says, still holding onto Danny’s arms. “You smell like the worm at the bottom of the bottle.”
“Charming,” Danny gripes, and just for that, he leans in and kisses Steve again, morning tequila breath and all.
Funnily enough, Steve doesn’t seem to mind.
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 1,719
Rating: PG
Notes: For shoot_the_curl. My prompt: "Loves sunsets and long walks on the beach." I totally recommend listening to this song while reading this fic.
Summary: Danny's pretty sure that tequila loves him more than Steve at this point.
ALSO, this fic is dedicated to theellibu. Happy birthday, dear!
“What are you doing?”
Steve’s voice is close - way close, Danny thinks, because the last time he’d seen Steve, it had been the view of Steve’s back as he’d run out of Danny’s apartment like his heels were on fire. Danny frowns into his glass, because Steve had left, so what’s he doing here?
“I’m drinking,” Danny informs Steve. “What are you doing?”
“Driving you home,” Steve says with a sigh. “Thanks for calling, Kohako.”
Danny frowns a little harder. He doesn’t remember calling Steve. And why is Steve calling him-
“No worries, brah,” the bartender says, smiling at Steve. “Just get him home and dry him out, okay?”
“Kohako!” Danny beams. “You are the man, Kohako. Have I told you that? You are the man.”
“Not in the last five minutes, no, you haven’t told me that,” Kohako says with a grin. “Thank you once again, Detective.”
“You’re welcome,” Danny replies, still smiling as he stands up and follows Steve to the door. “G’night, Kohako!”
Kohako shakes his head and waves.
Danny hums as he walks towards Steve’s truck. It’s pretty close to the building, and Danny frowns down at the blue lines on the pavement as he stands by the door, his fingers curled around the handle. It hits him after a minute or two, and he looks around for Steve, ready to start yelling. “Steve! Where did you go, you - you-”
“Danny,” Steve says. Danny turns and looks in through the open window of the door. Steve is smiling at him from the driver’s seat. “Get in the truck.”
“You’re not handicapped,” Danny says stubbornly. “I’m not getting in your truck if you can’t tell you’re not handicapped, Steve. You’re too drunk to drive, too.”
Steve sighs. “Danny, get in the truck.”
“No.”
“I parked close to the door so your drunk ass wouldn’t have to walk as far,” Steve snaps. “I haven’t been drinking. Do I have to put you in the truck myself?”
Danny considers it for a minute before deciding that, no, he really doesn’t want Steve to do that. He opens the door and climbs in.
They’re pulling out of the parking lot before Danny remembers. “Why are you here? You’re mad at me.”
Steve sighs again. “I’m not mad at you, Danny.”
“You were mad when you left,” Danny points out. “And you left tonight. That’s pretty fast.”
“I’m not mad,” Steve repeats. “Why were you trying to drown yourself in alcohol?”
“Tequila loves me, even if you don’t,” Danny says, and even as drunk as he is, he can see the way Steve’s fingers tighten around the wheel.
“You’re going to be hating tequila in about six hours, if I had to guess,” Steve replies, keeping his voice light as he pulls into his own driveway. “Come on.”
“Take me home,” Danny says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I did,” Steve says, getting out of the truck. “Come inside, Danny.”
“Take me home,” Danny insists. “If you don’t want me here, then why did you bring me here?”
“You are too drunk for this conversation right now,” Steve sighs, stalking around the front of the truck. Danny’s door opens suddenly, and it’s only his seat belt that keeps him from falling out of the truck. Steve leans over and unsnaps it, then pulls Danny out of the truck and somehow gets him to lean against the side as he closes the door and runs up the path to unlock the house. Danny stays stubbornly next to the truck for a minute, and then Steve is back next to him, muttering in a language that Danny can’t understand as he slings Danny’s arm over his shoulder and drags him up towards the house.
“Hey,” Danny says, trying to poke Steve in the chest. “Speak English.” He realizes that he’s actually sort of petting Steve’s chest instead, but hey, whatever. He keeps doing it.
“I am speaking English,” Steve says, pulling him into the house and aiming for the stairs. “I’m not surprised you can’t hear me well enough to understand it, though. How much did you have to drink?”
“A lot,” Danny says triumphantly. He blinks and looks around; they’re in Steve’s room. He doesn’t remember going up the stairs at all. “Why are we here?”
“You need to sleep this off, and then we need to talk,” Steve says, reaching out and pulling Danny’s tie off with a few quick motions. Danny’s shirt is next, and then Steve is shoving him onto the bed. Danny falls gracelessly, and Steve tugs his pants off and arranges Danny on the bed.
“Try to make it to the bathroom if you need to puke,” Steve says, but Danny’s eyes are already closed, and he doesn’t get the chance to reply before he’s asleep.
-0-
“Danny.”
“I’m calling in dead today,” Danny groans, his face buried in the pillow. “I’m dead, right? This is what dead feels like.”
“This is what most of a bottle of tequila feels like,” Steve says mildly. He’s probably not actually yelling, but his voice is louder than Danny can take right now. “Also, it’s Saturday. Sit up. I brought coffee.”
Danny squeezes his eyes shut, but the smell of the coffee drifts to his nose and he sighs. He drags himself somewhat upright and leans back against the headboard, holding his hands out in the general direction of Steve’s voice. He feels the mug press into his hands and pulls it back, taking a long swallow before attempting to open his eyes again.
Steve has pulled the curtains shut in his room, so it’s half-dark. Danny lets out a grateful sigh and downs another sip as Steve holds out his hand, something cupped in his palm. “Painkillers and a few multivitamins,” Steve says, dumping the fistful in Danny’s hand. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
“I love you,” Danny says. “No, seriously, I do. Coffee and Tylenol. This officially makes you my favorite adult in the world.”
Steve smiles. “Glad to hear it.”
Danny is almost finished with the coffee when he remembers why he’d been drinking. He freezes, mug at his lips, and swallows his mouthful before carefully setting the mug on the bedstand. He’d been feeling okay, other than the headache and the desperate need to brush his teeth, but now he’s wondering if the tequila is going to make an unwanted reappearance.
Steve notices the change in Danny’s mood. Of course he does. “Stop freaking out, Danny, okay?”
“No,” Danny replies. “I might be a little hazy on some of the details of last night, but no, I think I have a good enough reason to be upset right now.”
“We need to-”
“You came over, we were going to go out for a nice dinner, I tossed out the idea of maybe moving in, and you ran out of there like the hounds of Hell were chasing you,” Danny says, listing the facts as clinically as he can manage. “You can probably imagine why I might be a little confused when, after going out to get myself thoroughly drunk so I could forget that little sting, I wake up in bed with you.”
“The bartender called me,” Steve says, apparently ignoring the rest. “He cut you off after a while and was giving you water. He recognized you as Five-0, so he called me instead of getting you a cab.”
“That bastard,” Danny says with as much feeling as he can muster. “I was so sure I liked him, too.”
“You did,” Steve informs him. “Anyway, look-”
“Just take me home,” Danny says, suddenly exhausted all over again. He needs a shower and he needs his goddamned toothbrush, and this is going to get awkward, he can tell. “Look, just - I’m sorry I freaked you out, okay? It’s fine if you’re not ready, or you just don’t want me to move in, or whatever. I just thought, hey, we’ve been together almost two years, my lease is about to expire, maybe it’s time. But if it’s not, that’s fine, Steve. I don’t want to-”
Steve leans in and presses his mouth to Danny’s, burying a hand in Danny’s hair and nipping at his lips until Danny opens his mouth. Steve pulls back after a minute and rests his forehead against Danny’s. “Move in with me.”
“…what?” Danny asks after a full fifteen seconds of silence. “Did we not both have terrible nights last night because I asked you the very same question, or is that an alcohol-induced delusion on my part?”
“Look, I might have freaked out a little,” Steve admits. “I was expecting dinner, coming back for drinks on the lanai, maybe fooling around before going to sleep. I wasn’t really expecting you to drop that in my lap.”
“So, what, your dates have to be long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners and watching the sun go down over the water? It’s gotta go as you plan or-”
Steve kisses him again.
“Would you stop that?” Danny grumbles, but he doesn’t mean it and Steve knows it, if the grin on his face is anything to go by. “What are you saying here, anyway?”
“Move in with me,” Steve repeats. “I realized I made a mistake pretty much as soon as I got in my truck, Danny. I spent the next few hours driving around trying to think of a way to apologize to you, and then, well, Kohako called.”
“Ah,” Danny replies eloquently. “So you changed your mind?”
“I did.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I just kissed you twice, even though you’ve got hangover breath,” Steve points out. “You spend more time here than you do at your place. When you aren’t here, I’m usually wherever you are or wishing I was there. Grace has her own room.” He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure. I’m just sorry I ran out on you last night.”
“Ah,” Danny repeats. “In that case, let me go brush my teeth, and we can celebrate this properly.”
“Take a shower, too,” Steve says, still holding onto Danny’s arms. “You smell like the worm at the bottom of the bottle.”
“Charming,” Danny gripes, and just for that, he leans in and kisses Steve again, morning tequila breath and all.
Funnily enough, Steve doesn’t seem to mind.