newkindofcop | (no subject)

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danny williams

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The days have been busier for them, between Danny's heightened responsibilities at the IPD and Steve's decision to run for Council a second term. Sometimes, the only moments when they manage to locate one another are in bed, asleep, and then waking up in the morning to do it all over again. It might be a taste of what life would be like if they'd gone and done this back home, with work slipping to the forefront for a while until they managed to get their bearings.

It's why, when Danny suggests an early evening game of baseball, just the two of them, Steve doesn't hesitate - though what he sees when he finally gets there is enough to warrant some surprise, and maybe a little teasing. He's only seen Danny in a shirt and tie - and a t-shirt, more often, for sleeping - but he doesn't know what to say when he happens upon his husband wearing a pair of cargo pants - his cargo pants.

"Okay, I'm actually at a loss for words in this moment," he says, holding up a hand. "Did you have an aneurysm of your own when I wasn't looking?"

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"You do remember burning a pair of pants very similar to those, don't you?" Steve asks, lifting his hands reflexively to catch the ball in his glove, eyes narrowing as he slowly lowers it down again. "I just want to make it clear that we're on the same page here," he adds, very distinctly keeping his gaze above the belt.

"I was angry and I burned them not because of what they were, but because you owned a million pairs of them," Danny says, feeling like he's really only exaggerating by one or two. There were an insane amount, he stands by this. "And remind me who was there to help you find new pairs, huh? Who sat there and watched you try them on and made approving noises even though I hate them?" He yanks at the waist, getting them higher because they're too damn long by about three inches.

Steve barely stifles a grin at the sight of Danny hiking those pants up, pants that are a little too loose in some places and a little too snug in others.

"That still doesn't explain why you're wearing them," he points out, gesturing with his free hand to the pants in question before he tosses the ball up, catching it in his glove.

"Laundry," Danny says, shaking his head. "Everything's drying on the line, so instead of having decent clothes that fit, it was either your cargo pants or I wore those short shorts that I refuse to wear outside of the bedroom," is all he has to say on that subject. He pushes a hand through his hair, grateful that it's back to its normal length again. "What's the matter, Steven, you like them on me or something?"

"I didn't say that," Steve replies, quick to answer in the defensive, though there'd been a moment or two where his gaze had lingered slightly longer than necessary as Danny had turned around.

"Well, I guess they're better than a tie," he adds, tossing the ball back to Danny.

"What, tie as pants? Yeah, babe, I'd hope that's better," is Danny's dubious response, giving a snort as he wanders closer and gives Steve's chin two light taps. "You with me, still? Or has all that Councilwork drained away your brain and left you a mess, hm?"

"I'm here," Steve replies, fingers snaking around Danny's wrist before he has a chance to pull his arm away, thumb applying the tiniest amount of pressure to his pulse point.

"And if I recall correctly, I think your name was among those supporting my bid, Danno."

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Danny says defensively, a smile creeping into his hard-won angry act near the end, a laugh on his lips. "Among those? Screw that, Steven, I was the first one to put your name on that list. No one is more supportive of your continued government aspirations than me," he clarifies, grinning when Steve grasps at his wrist.

"I thought I recognized your handwriting," Steve says, his grip ascending to the place where he can hold onto Danny's hand with his own, momentarily allowing their fingers to tangle together before he breaks hold, covertly stealing the ball back.

"You just seem to be under the impression that keeping me in the Council will convert me to the idea of procedure."

Danny smirks one last time before he gives up the ball and lets Steve have it, wandering away far enough that Steve can throw it to him. "And?" he coaxes. "How's it going so far, have I managed to convert you to liking procedure at least a little?"

"That may be an answer you'll never get, even under extreme duress," Steve counters, speaking loud enough to be heard over the growing distance between them as he winds back and lobs the ball over in Danny's direction.

Danny smirks and eases back, wriggling his hips slightly as he adjusts into a more comfortable stance. "What about extreme sexy duress?" he clarifies, shouting it over to Steve. "Huh? I mean, you fold pretty easy."

Steve just looks at him, jaw setting firmly, and shakes his head, unconsciously readying his glove for the ball's return trip.

"Nope," he says, shaking his head. "Not this time."

"So, maybe we're going to the other direction," Danny says, eyeing Steve up and down, letting his gaze linger on his ass. "Maybe in order to get information from you, I stop giving you sex for the foreseeable future."

"And you think that withholding is going to accomplish anything?" Steve asks, trying to decide if he's amused or just confused as he steps back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hip cocked out to one side.

"I think withholding sex from you after you getting so accustomed to it will have the generous advantage of you begging for it," Danny says, licking his lower lip as he casts his gaze over Steve slowly. "Babe, tell me you could go two weeks without. And I don't believe you if you say you can."

"If you don't believe me, then I can't," Steve replies, and he won't attempt to lie on that front, both shoulders rising in a casual shrug as he lets his gaze rest on Danny's mouth, attention briefly hovering there.

"Simple as that."

"Yeah, but it's fun to see you try," Danny says as he wanders even closer than before, waggling his brows as he licks his lower lips. "I like feeling like I've broken the big, bad Steve McGarrett. I mean, it makes me feel like I'm doing something classified."

"Hate to break it to you, Danno, but it takes a little more than withholding to count as something classified," Steve says, though there's no denying he's amused by the entire moment's proceedings as Danny moves closer. "But I'm afraid I can't reveal that, either."

"Seriously? What, now that I'm married to you, I seriously still don't get read in or brought in or whatever it is you say about this shit?" Danny asks dubiously, sliding off his glove as he pokes Steve in the chest with two fingers. "I am your husband, how do I not get classified information?"

"Are you poking me right now? You're poking me right now," Steve replies, looking down at the offending finger with nothing short of incredulity before his gaze sweeps back up to Danny. He doesn't know whether to smile or not, but he settles for going halfway, lips twitching briefly. "You know the rules. Sensitive information means someone could use you to get to me," he murmurs. "And it'd work, you know."

"Yeah, I'm poking you right now," Danny agrees defensively, a teasing grin on his lips. He's amused by this, mostly giving Steve grief just because he can. "What, what would work?"

"If someone used you to get to me." He curls his fingers inside his glove, working the leather by opening and closing his hand until it feels a little more relaxed.

Danny looks Steve up and down, not really sure that he believes that. "Babe, come on, you're a rough, tough Navy SEAL. If someone used me to get to you, you'd figure something out," he says, with an easygoing shrug. "You'd just solve it, I'd live or I'd die, but they wouldn't get anything out of you. You're stoic. You're Navy. You're a SEAL."

"You sure about that?" Steve asks, his gaze settling into a calm one as he regards Danny quietly, plucking the ball out of his glove and then tossing it back into the grip of his fingers. "Can you honestly say I'm the same person who got off the boat to apprehend Hesse all those months ago? Am I the same person I was before Five-O? Before I met you?"