h50 birthday ficlet for dogeared!
Apr. 10th, 2011 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gyzymAnd now we celebrate the second birthday of the day, that of the truly excellent ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dogeared--and seriously, I'm just saying, April 10th is a pretty damn auspicious day what with all these awesome people being born on it, y'all better recognize. dogeared, love, here's a lazy Sunday morning, Steve & Danny style. I hope it is to your liking, and may you have the happiest of days. ♥
Everything Is Just Fine
There are Sundays--when they don't have Grace, when the criminal community decides to be polite, put a hold their misdeeds until Monday like the rest of the world--where Steve sleeps late, past nine sometimes, being a lazy bum for sport. Danny had started the first time it happened, that first Sunday they'd been comfortable enough together for him to try it; he woke first, rolled over, found Steve "I'm Going For a Run/Swim/Impromptu 6 AM Parkour Session" McGarret crashed out next to him.
"You alive over there?" Danny said, poking him in the ribs.
"If I tell you no," Steve mumbled, cracking one eye open, "will you fuck off?"
Danny laughed, then, thinking he was kidding--now, months and months later, he knows the guy is serious. It's hard for him to remember sometimes that Steve grew up here, lived and breathed the whole slow down and enjoy the ride lifestyle until the day his whole life blew up, but not on Sundays. On Sundays Steve sleeps like he means it, warning growls fading into pleased mmm noises when Danny presses kisses against his shoulder, the back of his neck. He won't be roused for food or sex, not Steve, not on these mornings he's decided to claim as his own, and Danny's used to that by now. He yawns, showers, cracks his back and heads downstairs, puts the coffee on, settles in on the couch with the paper.
There's something to be said for this, too, these easy wake-ups he doesn't have to share, his own version of Steve's overzealous sleeping in. He does the crossword for ten minutes--twelve clues he can fill in, fifteen that he should be able to fill in but can't because the space left isn't the right size, and what is wrong with these people, the answer to four down is clearly "That's Why The Lady Is a Tramp"--before he gives in and moves on to Sudoku. He used to do this at the station in Jersey when shit went south with Rachel, when he was going in too early and staying too late--now it's less a distraction from what's going wrong than a confirmation of what's going right. Danny gets shot at at least twice a week, jumped off a roof just Tuesday, but he's got time to do the Sudoku on Sunday morning with his lunatic crashed out upstairs. Things are probably going to be alright.
At ten after eight he dumps the dregs of his coffee down the sink and drives into town, picks up malasadas and one of those stupid pink power smoothies Steve claims he's too manly to like. He'll drink it, though, and he'll be happy about it, and he'll eat a malasada too, giving Danny shit about his blood pressure all the while. Danny hums along with the radio on the way back, scowling a little in remembrance of that crossword clue when a Sinatra song comes on, leaves the smoothie in the fridge and takes his paper onto the lanai.
It's almost ten when the sound of rushing water shifts a little, comes from behind him instead of in front; Danny knows the pipes and how they echo by now, knows Steve's stumbling around in the bathroom looking for the toothpaste. He grins to himself, leaves the paper on his chair and goes inside--Steve wanders downstairs a few minutes later, hair tousled, covering a cracking yawn with the back of his hand.
"You lazy shit," Danny says, "I've been up for hours."
"Good for you," Steve says, mumbles, trying to raise his eyebrows in condescension and succeeding only in looking blearily confused. "You get me the thing?"
"No," Danny says, "because I don't know you at all, I've never met you, what is this house I'm living in, how'd I get here? Yes, McGarrett, I got your stupid smoothie, and lemme tell you, it never gets any better, wandering the streets with one of those things in my hand. They're so pink it hurts my eyes, Gracie's got Barbies that are less pink, you get me?"
"Don't even like 'em," Steve says, opening the fridge and grabbing it all the same. He takes a sip, groans from the back of his throat, and then, at Danny's expression, adds, "See? 'S terrible."
"Yeah, sounds like it," Danny snorts. He leans back against the counter, the bag of malasadas behind him, and waits. He knows the steps to this dance by now, they're well learned, it's practically his own choreography, and sure enough Steve puts his drink down, crosses to him a second later. He reaches for the bag and crashes into Danny instead, curving into him, sleep-soaked and smelling faintly of mint. His mouth tastes like toothpaste when Danny kisses him, easy, without any intent behind it at all; Steve shifts so their chests are pressed together, slots his thigh into place between Danny's own.
"Good morning," he says, when he breaks away, smiling slow.
"Yeah," Danny agrees, and leans away a little so Steve can grab for his breakfast, can go ahead and start the day off right.
dogeared--and seriously, I'm just saying, April 10th is a pretty damn auspicious day what with all these awesome people being born on it, y'all better recognize. dogeared, love, here's a lazy Sunday morning, Steve & Danny style. I hope it is to your liking, and may you have the happiest of days. ♥Everything Is Just Fine
There are Sundays--when they don't have Grace, when the criminal community decides to be polite, put a hold their misdeeds until Monday like the rest of the world--where Steve sleeps late, past nine sometimes, being a lazy bum for sport. Danny had started the first time it happened, that first Sunday they'd been comfortable enough together for him to try it; he woke first, rolled over, found Steve "I'm Going For a Run/Swim/Impromptu 6 AM Parkour Session" McGarret crashed out next to him.
"You alive over there?" Danny said, poking him in the ribs.
"If I tell you no," Steve mumbled, cracking one eye open, "will you fuck off?"
Danny laughed, then, thinking he was kidding--now, months and months later, he knows the guy is serious. It's hard for him to remember sometimes that Steve grew up here, lived and breathed the whole slow down and enjoy the ride lifestyle until the day his whole life blew up, but not on Sundays. On Sundays Steve sleeps like he means it, warning growls fading into pleased mmm noises when Danny presses kisses against his shoulder, the back of his neck. He won't be roused for food or sex, not Steve, not on these mornings he's decided to claim as his own, and Danny's used to that by now. He yawns, showers, cracks his back and heads downstairs, puts the coffee on, settles in on the couch with the paper.
There's something to be said for this, too, these easy wake-ups he doesn't have to share, his own version of Steve's overzealous sleeping in. He does the crossword for ten minutes--twelve clues he can fill in, fifteen that he should be able to fill in but can't because the space left isn't the right size, and what is wrong with these people, the answer to four down is clearly "That's Why The Lady Is a Tramp"--before he gives in and moves on to Sudoku. He used to do this at the station in Jersey when shit went south with Rachel, when he was going in too early and staying too late--now it's less a distraction from what's going wrong than a confirmation of what's going right. Danny gets shot at at least twice a week, jumped off a roof just Tuesday, but he's got time to do the Sudoku on Sunday morning with his lunatic crashed out upstairs. Things are probably going to be alright.
At ten after eight he dumps the dregs of his coffee down the sink and drives into town, picks up malasadas and one of those stupid pink power smoothies Steve claims he's too manly to like. He'll drink it, though, and he'll be happy about it, and he'll eat a malasada too, giving Danny shit about his blood pressure all the while. Danny hums along with the radio on the way back, scowling a little in remembrance of that crossword clue when a Sinatra song comes on, leaves the smoothie in the fridge and takes his paper onto the lanai.
It's almost ten when the sound of rushing water shifts a little, comes from behind him instead of in front; Danny knows the pipes and how they echo by now, knows Steve's stumbling around in the bathroom looking for the toothpaste. He grins to himself, leaves the paper on his chair and goes inside--Steve wanders downstairs a few minutes later, hair tousled, covering a cracking yawn with the back of his hand.
"You lazy shit," Danny says, "I've been up for hours."
"Good for you," Steve says, mumbles, trying to raise his eyebrows in condescension and succeeding only in looking blearily confused. "You get me the thing?"
"No," Danny says, "because I don't know you at all, I've never met you, what is this house I'm living in, how'd I get here? Yes, McGarrett, I got your stupid smoothie, and lemme tell you, it never gets any better, wandering the streets with one of those things in my hand. They're so pink it hurts my eyes, Gracie's got Barbies that are less pink, you get me?"
"Don't even like 'em," Steve says, opening the fridge and grabbing it all the same. He takes a sip, groans from the back of his throat, and then, at Danny's expression, adds, "See? 'S terrible."
"Yeah, sounds like it," Danny snorts. He leans back against the counter, the bag of malasadas behind him, and waits. He knows the steps to this dance by now, they're well learned, it's practically his own choreography, and sure enough Steve puts his drink down, crosses to him a second later. He reaches for the bag and crashes into Danny instead, curving into him, sleep-soaked and smelling faintly of mint. His mouth tastes like toothpaste when Danny kisses him, easy, without any intent behind it at all; Steve shifts so their chests are pressed together, slots his thigh into place between Danny's own.
"Good morning," he says, when he breaks away, smiling slow.
"Yeah," Danny agrees, and leans away a little so Steve can grab for his breakfast, can go ahead and start the day off right.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:08 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2011-04-10 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:16 pm (UTC)asldkfj. You have no idea what this stuff does to me, really. It's like, my heart, it flutters and I go all warm and happy.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:26 pm (UTC)Stuff that made me happy:
Impromptu 6 AM Parkour Session - XD
his lunatic - Aww~!
Steve's stumbling around in the bathroom looking for the toothpaste. - *giggle*
"No," Danny says, "because I don't know you at all, I've never met you, what is this house I'm living in, how'd I get here?" - *sneeeeerk*
This is very lovely. *hearts it all over*
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:35 pm (UTC)*snuggles fic*
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Date: 2011-04-10 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 11:18 pm (UTC)your fic Everything Is Just Fine has been recced HERE (http://community.livejournal.com/h50_rec_room/10594.html)
at
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Date: 2011-04-10 11:31 pm (UTC)Was going to find you a nice, pretty fruity drink picture but this smoothie has CASHEWS IN IT. What is that, seriously.
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Date: 2011-04-11 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 11:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 01:05 am (UTC)And the rest? ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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Date: 2011-04-11 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 06:18 am (UTC)PERFECTION!!!
♥_♥
Thank GOD for these birthdays because first you write WHITE COLLAR OT3 *FLAILS AND LOVES* and *then* we get this gem?!
*happy sigh of happy*
You've made me smile like a loon on monday morning - GOOD JOB! ♥
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 11:58 am (UTC)Is it weird that I find these snippets of yours just as satisfying as really, really good porn? Not that I'ma say no to the porn, you understand, I'm just saying, this? Makes me just as happy. <33333
Happy birthday for yesterday,
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 04:26 pm (UTC)I love
Danny gets shot at at least twice a week, jumped off a roof just Tuesday, but he's got time to do the Sudoku on Sunday morning with his lunatic crashed out upstairs. Things are probably going to be alright.
Awww. Yay. &hearts
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Date: 2011-04-11 05:26 pm (UTC)This is so perfect I'm going to re-read it a few more times, mkay? Thank you!
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Date: 2011-04-11 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 06:26 pm (UTC)i love danny getting mad at the crosswords (omfg we are the same person, i cant even DO THEM anymore because the answers? never fit!), i love steve's its-10am-but-im-still-too-sleepy-to-communicate-properly manner of asking for his smoothie... i love it all.
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Date: 2011-04-11 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 09:01 pm (UTC)LUV LUV LUV THIS!!!!!
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Date: 2011-04-11 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 06:28 am (UTC)The idea that Steve is as hard core a sleeper in-er as he is anything else is brilliant.
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Date: 2011-04-12 07:30 am (UTC)The idea that Steve is as hard core a sleeper in-er as he is anything else is brilliant.
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Date: 2011-04-13 06:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:00 pm (UTC)