FIC: Almost kind of romantic (Steve/Danny, R)
Title: Almost kind of romantic
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating/content: hard R for sappy phone sex
Word count: ~800
A/N: I just wanted to write some fluff. Thanks to shes_gone for indulging me.
"Just admit it, you're wearing my clothes."
Danny switches the phone to his left ear and looks down at his shirt, which reads, I survived BUD/S training and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. "I'm not wearing your clothes."
*****
Danny is a sap. He knows this, he's come to terms with it. There's no reason for Steve to know it, though.
Unfortunately Steve knows Danny better than Danny would like sometimes.
"Just admit it, you're wearing my clothes."
Danny switches the phone to his left ear and looks down at his shirt, which reads, I survived BUD/S training and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. "I'm not wearing your clothes."
"You miss me and my shirts smell like me. It's understandable. I think it's sweet."
Steve has been gone for two weeks, to L.A. to visit Mary and help her move into a new apartment, and it's the longest that Danny's gone without having another warm body in bed with him since they moved in together. On one hand, he's not waking up at 5AM when Steve gets up to go for a swim, but on the other hand it's been fourteen days since he's had sex.
"It's not sweet," says Danny, leaning back against the headboard. "Ice cream is sweet. Puppies are sweet. Me wearing your shirt, hypothetically, is not sweet."
"You can wear my shirts all you want, just don't use up the last of my shampoo without replacing the bottle."
Danny frowns at the phone. "Why would I use your shampoo? Do you know how much I pay for my shampoo? Why would I need to use Suave for Men? It doesn't smell like a fucking glacier forest, it smells like Vicks Vaporub."
"Are you wearing my boxers too? Because I'm totally okay with that, for the record."
And just like that, Danny is half hard. He's so fucking predictable he makes himself sick. "No, I'm not wearing your boxers," he says, pressing the heel of his hand against his groin. "I have my own boxers, thank you very much. Plus, all of our clothes smell the same, smartass. We use the same laundry detergent."
"Which is why you'd probably grab something from the hamper."
Danny sighs.
"So you're wearing my clothes and you're probably sleeping on my pillow. I hope you're not using my toothbrush."
"I'm not using your toothbrush," Danny snaps. "That's disgusting."
"I've licked my own come off the roof of your mouth, Danny."
Completely hard now, fuck. "Still disgusting. Are you trying to be an asshole, or does it just come naturally?"
"Trying. Is it working?"
"Yeah."
Danny can hear Steve moving around, a mattress creaking under him. "I wish you were here so I could suck your dick."
Danny sighs and shoves his hand past the waistband of his boxers, wrapping his fingers around his cock. "I wish I was there so I could let you suck my dick."
"Are you really wearing my shirt? Tell me."
"Yes, I am wearing your shirt, jesus," says Danny, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock. Just the sound of Steve breathing already has him embarrassingly close to the edge. "I'm also about to come in your boxers."
"Which ones?"
"I don't know, Steve, one of the eighteen identical pairs of navy blue Hanes folded up in the top drawer. Do you have them labeled by number?"
Steve lets out a sharp breath, directly into the phone. "I took some of your shower gel before I left."
"I knew it."
"Bad idea though. I have to jerk off every time I take a shower. It smells like you--"
Danny spurts onto his fingers, his breath coming out in short huffs right up against the phone. He presses the phone to his shoulder to keep from dropping it and can tell when Steve follows a moment later, silent except for a choked little noise at the back of his throat.
"That's really sweet that you stole my shower gel," Danny says after a moment, wiping his hand on a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand. "Almost kind of romantic, for you anyway."
"At least it wasn't your toothbrush."
"Or my deodorant."
"Now that's disgusting."
Danny leans back against the headboard. "Hey, Steve?"
"Yeah."
Danny looks down at his fingers, playing with a loose thread at the hem of Steve's t-shirt. There's a rustling on the other end of the line, and Danny can almost hear Steve smiling.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Danny."
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating/content: hard R for sappy phone sex
Word count: ~800
A/N: I just wanted to write some fluff. Thanks to shes_gone for indulging me.
"Just admit it, you're wearing my clothes."
Danny switches the phone to his left ear and looks down at his shirt, which reads, I survived BUD/S training and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. "I'm not wearing your clothes."
*****
Danny is a sap. He knows this, he's come to terms with it. There's no reason for Steve to know it, though.
Unfortunately Steve knows Danny better than Danny would like sometimes.
"Just admit it, you're wearing my clothes."
Danny switches the phone to his left ear and looks down at his shirt, which reads, I survived BUD/S training and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. "I'm not wearing your clothes."
"You miss me and my shirts smell like me. It's understandable. I think it's sweet."
Steve has been gone for two weeks, to L.A. to visit Mary and help her move into a new apartment, and it's the longest that Danny's gone without having another warm body in bed with him since they moved in together. On one hand, he's not waking up at 5AM when Steve gets up to go for a swim, but on the other hand it's been fourteen days since he's had sex.
"It's not sweet," says Danny, leaning back against the headboard. "Ice cream is sweet. Puppies are sweet. Me wearing your shirt, hypothetically, is not sweet."
"You can wear my shirts all you want, just don't use up the last of my shampoo without replacing the bottle."
Danny frowns at the phone. "Why would I use your shampoo? Do you know how much I pay for my shampoo? Why would I need to use Suave for Men? It doesn't smell like a fucking glacier forest, it smells like Vicks Vaporub."
"Are you wearing my boxers too? Because I'm totally okay with that, for the record."
And just like that, Danny is half hard. He's so fucking predictable he makes himself sick. "No, I'm not wearing your boxers," he says, pressing the heel of his hand against his groin. "I have my own boxers, thank you very much. Plus, all of our clothes smell the same, smartass. We use the same laundry detergent."
"Which is why you'd probably grab something from the hamper."
Danny sighs.
"So you're wearing my clothes and you're probably sleeping on my pillow. I hope you're not using my toothbrush."
"I'm not using your toothbrush," Danny snaps. "That's disgusting."
"I've licked my own come off the roof of your mouth, Danny."
Completely hard now, fuck. "Still disgusting. Are you trying to be an asshole, or does it just come naturally?"
"Trying. Is it working?"
"Yeah."
Danny can hear Steve moving around, a mattress creaking under him. "I wish you were here so I could suck your dick."
Danny sighs and shoves his hand past the waistband of his boxers, wrapping his fingers around his cock. "I wish I was there so I could let you suck my dick."
"Are you really wearing my shirt? Tell me."
"Yes, I am wearing your shirt, jesus," says Danny, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock. Just the sound of Steve breathing already has him embarrassingly close to the edge. "I'm also about to come in your boxers."
"Which ones?"
"I don't know, Steve, one of the eighteen identical pairs of navy blue Hanes folded up in the top drawer. Do you have them labeled by number?"
Steve lets out a sharp breath, directly into the phone. "I took some of your shower gel before I left."
"I knew it."
"Bad idea though. I have to jerk off every time I take a shower. It smells like you--"
Danny spurts onto his fingers, his breath coming out in short huffs right up against the phone. He presses the phone to his shoulder to keep from dropping it and can tell when Steve follows a moment later, silent except for a choked little noise at the back of his throat.
"That's really sweet that you stole my shower gel," Danny says after a moment, wiping his hand on a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand. "Almost kind of romantic, for you anyway."
"At least it wasn't your toothbrush."
"Or my deodorant."
"Now that's disgusting."
Danny leans back against the headboard. "Hey, Steve?"
"Yeah."
Danny looks down at his fingers, playing with a loose thread at the hem of Steve's t-shirt. There's a rustling on the other end of the line, and Danny can almost hear Steve smiling.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Danny."