H50 Ficlet: A Hard Day’s Night
Nov. 5th, 2013 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: A Hard Day’s Night
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Pairing: pre-Danny/Steve
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word count: 500
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: “Better yet,” Danny kicks the front door open and hauls Steve across the threshold like a particularly attractive sack of potatoes, “you could stop jumping off buildings. That would be novel.”
Author notes: This is forlolabobs who deserves some fluffy h/c. Unbetaed. Title obviously stolen from The Beatles.
“Oopsie-daisy. There we go,” Danny says, hoisting Steve out of the car.
“’m not Gracie,” Steve mumbles, listing heavily, his face pressed against Danny’s shoulder.
Danny sighs, keeping one arm around Steve and using the other to close the car door. “Yes, well done. I had noticed that. Largely because my adorable daughter is smarter, more beautiful and considerably lighter than you.”
He huffs under the strain, propping Steve against the wall while he goes rummaging for a key in his pockets. This causes the most curious of sounds...
“Did you just giggle?” Danny asks, incredulously.
“No.” Steve straightens as much as he can with two broken ribs and shot of strong painkillers coursing through his veins. That is to say; he wobbles, manages to catch himself on Danny’s shoulder and almost topples them both over.
“Sure, babe,” Danny says, “You keep telling yourself that. Or better yet,” he kicks the front door open and hauls Steve across the threshold like a particularly attractive sack of potatoes, “you could stop jumping off buildings. That would be novel.”
“’twas a shed,” Steve murmurs, his eyelids drooping as Danny deposits him on the sofa.
“Yes, well, a shed is still a building.” Danny lifts Steve’s legs up until he’s lying down. It’s nowhere near as comfortable as a bed would be but there’s no way Danny can carry his banged-up, drugged-up, leaning-tower-of-Honolulu of a partner upstairs and live to tell the tale.
Especially since he is still recovering from the heart attack said partner had given him by tackling a suspect right off the roof. And alright, so maybe it was only a shed, but it had been a damned big shed, more like a mini warehouse really, and for five whole seconds there Steve had been the Schrodinger’s SEAL, neither dead nor alive, until Danny could get to the edge of the roof and actually see for himself.
“You’re starin’,” Steve slurs. He doesn’t even have his eyes open but somehow he still knows.
Danny doesn’t bother lying about it. “Damn straight I am,” he says, throwing a quilt over Steve’s prone form and easing his own aching body into one of the armchairs. “We’ve all seen what happens when I don’t keep my beady eye on you, so it’s really for the best.”
He expects Steve to protest or even just to fall asleep, but instead he blinks slowly at Danny, mouth curving into a soft smile in a way that makes something hot and fragile twist in Danny’s chest, right where his poor, overburdened heart is. “I like it,” Steve says then, voice cracking with exhaustion, “You gonna stay?”
There’s only so much Danny’s heart can take without caving like soggy pile of papier-mâché. He’s so gone it’s not even funny, so far in he can’t fool himself otherwise anymore. “Yeah babe,” he says, whispers really, because Steve is already slipping under, “Of course I’ll stay.”
And whether Steve realises it or not, Danny doesn’t just mean for tonight.
***
Title: A Hard Day’s Night
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Pairing: pre-Danny/Steve
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word count: 500
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: “Better yet,” Danny kicks the front door open and hauls Steve across the threshold like a particularly attractive sack of potatoes, “you could stop jumping off buildings. That would be novel.”
Author notes: This is for
lolabobs who deserves some fluffy h/c. Unbetaed. Title obviously stolen from The Beatles.“Oopsie-daisy. There we go,” Danny says, hoisting Steve out of the car.
“’m not Gracie,” Steve mumbles, listing heavily, his face pressed against Danny’s shoulder.
Danny sighs, keeping one arm around Steve and using the other to close the car door. “Yes, well done. I had noticed that. Largely because my adorable daughter is smarter, more beautiful and considerably lighter than you.”
He huffs under the strain, propping Steve against the wall while he goes rummaging for a key in his pockets. This causes the most curious of sounds...
“Did you just giggle?” Danny asks, incredulously.
“No.” Steve straightens as much as he can with two broken ribs and shot of strong painkillers coursing through his veins. That is to say; he wobbles, manages to catch himself on Danny’s shoulder and almost topples them both over.
“Sure, babe,” Danny says, “You keep telling yourself that. Or better yet,” he kicks the front door open and hauls Steve across the threshold like a particularly attractive sack of potatoes, “you could stop jumping off buildings. That would be novel.”
“’twas a shed,” Steve murmurs, his eyelids drooping as Danny deposits him on the sofa.
“Yes, well, a shed is still a building.” Danny lifts Steve’s legs up until he’s lying down. It’s nowhere near as comfortable as a bed would be but there’s no way Danny can carry his banged-up, drugged-up, leaning-tower-of-Honolulu of a partner upstairs and live to tell the tale.
Especially since he is still recovering from the heart attack said partner had given him by tackling a suspect right off the roof. And alright, so maybe it was only a shed, but it had been a damned big shed, more like a mini warehouse really, and for five whole seconds there Steve had been the Schrodinger’s SEAL, neither dead nor alive, until Danny could get to the edge of the roof and actually see for himself.
“You’re starin’,” Steve slurs. He doesn’t even have his eyes open but somehow he still knows.
Danny doesn’t bother lying about it. “Damn straight I am,” he says, throwing a quilt over Steve’s prone form and easing his own aching body into one of the armchairs. “We’ve all seen what happens when I don’t keep my beady eye on you, so it’s really for the best.”
He expects Steve to protest or even just to fall asleep, but instead he blinks slowly at Danny, mouth curving into a soft smile in a way that makes something hot and fragile twist in Danny’s chest, right where his poor, overburdened heart is. “I like it,” Steve says then, voice cracking with exhaustion, “You gonna stay?”
There’s only so much Danny’s heart can take without caving like soggy pile of papier-mâché. He’s so gone it’s not even funny, so far in he can’t fool himself otherwise anymore. “Yeah babe,” he says, whispers really, because Steve is already slipping under, “Of course I’ll stay.”
And whether Steve realises it or not, Danny doesn’t just mean for tonight.
***