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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"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?"

"No, you're not the same person, but..." Danny fixes Steve with a hard look, one that looks like he's trying to get to know every intimate part of Steve. "If something turned up here and gave you a lead to Hesse, to your Dad's case, to solving your mother's murder, to putting away this Wo Fat guy that we keep hearing about. Do I think you'd leap at the chance? Yeah, Steve. I do."

"I would, but - not at the cost of your safety. Danny - you're the most important thing to me now, you know? Before it was the case, but - I can't say that with confidence anymore. You changed all that for me," he murmurs, his tone as gentle as it is pressing.

"So, what, if I got kidnapped by some evil crazy megalomaniac," Danny says, clearly teasing by the fond look on his face, "What would you do, huh? Big scary Navy SEAL, what would you do for me?"

"You know what," Steve says, finding Danny's eyes as he moves in close enough to feel his breath against his jaw, body heat radiating off his skin. "I'd go in there with guns blazing and haul your ass out of there."

"I know," Danny admits with a sheepish grin because he does know Steve and he knows what he would do. "I just like hearing it," he admits, because it is the kind of thing that can fluff up an ego. "I'd do the same for you, swear to god, I would tear someone apart if they hurt you," he says severely, slipping one hand to the small of Steve's back.

"You like hearing it, huh?" Steve asks, tucking his baseball glove under one arm as he runs fingertips along the collar of Danny's shirt, lightly touching. "Maybe it should go without saying then, since you already know what I'd do."

"Maybe I like hearing you talk about all the asses you'd kick in my name," Danny says with a smirk. "Actually, can you talk about you doing it shirtless? I like thinking about you being shirtless and avenging things and possibly you're wet and the tattoos are gleaming."

"Yes, Danny. For the purposes of your mental image, you can think about me doing it without a shirt on," Steve replies, even though the logistics of carrying off that kind of an op with at least some freeform kevlar is a suicide mission waiting to happen.

"See, now I'm liking this situation even better," Danny says with a grin, sliding his hands up and down Steve's waist and hips, easing them closer together with a light step and nudge. "So you like my cargo pants, huh?"

"Well, technically, they're my cargo pants, but - " Danny's decision to ease together earns him a soft hiss, and Steve's jaw tenses visibly as he swallows, unable to stop himself for reaching out to clutch at Danny's hip with an ungloved hand.