Work Text:
"Breathe," Danny said.
"I’m fine, Danno," Steve said, but given that his glare was practically burning holes in the pages which lay in front of him on the dining room table, Danny was disinclined to believe him.
"Uh huh." Danny set a mug of Steve’s beloved grass-clipping tea at his elbow. "I’m sure you are, this"—he waggled his now-free hand in the general direction of Steve’s face—"absolutely when I look at this visage—"
"Visage?" Steve said, pulling one of those faces that sometimes made Danny wonder if an expression could be described as double-jointed.
"—The first thing I think is, there's a man who's at ease with himself and the world."
Steve grunted, turning his attention back to his stack of papers. "I said I'm fine. It's the paperwork that's the problem."
Danny sat down at the table, put his feet up on one of the spindles of Steve's chair. "I don't think it's the paperwork, seeing as how many people every day get through filling in an insurance form without developing a face like that—"
"This thing is six pages long, Danny, and I filled out the exact same form last month."
"Yeah, well," Danny said, between sips of his own coffee. There was nothing like that first kick of caffeine on a sunny Saturday morning. "The reason why you're filling out the same paperwork two months in a row is because—"
Steve's brow creased. "It wasn't like I had a choice, was it? I couldn't let Wilson get away."
"Goof," Danny said, stretching one foot up to poke Steve in the thigh, taking care to avoid the bruises which were only now fading to a mottled yellow. "Revisit what I said about breathing, huh? Catching a stalker, I got no problem with that. A+ job, clap yourself on the back, hooray and a celebratory cigar for all."
Steve frowned at him.
"What, you want the celebratory blow job instead of the cigar? Well, my friend, I'm afraid that only comes into play either in cases where you catch D.B. Cooper or where you don't pull your hamstring in the process."
"If that log hadn't been there—"
Danny held up a hand. "You would have still made like the Great Hawaiian Kangaroo, Steven, and I know this because I'm wise to you and your ways. But what-ifs aren't going to help you get that paperwork done. You've still got to"—he peered over at the page on top of the stack, craning his head to read the upside-down print—"'help us ascertain if this injury was acquired as an occupational hazard or during recreation.' I thought you told them that in the hospital, babe?"
"I did," Steve said. He moved the pen across the page with enough force that the impression of his handwriting was sure to be legible for several pages below. "But they're querying it because technically I wasn't on the clock, I was just out for a run."
Danny squinted at him. "They've googled you, right? When are you ever not on the clock?"
"That's what I said!" Steve said, folding his arms. Danny indulged in a silent and entirely salacious moment of admiration for the aesthetics of that action when combined with Steve's biceps and his penchant for sleeveless t-shirts. "And I pointed out that it counts as part of my training for the Reserves, but they haven't been listening to me. I just get Form J-45/R again, and a form letter thanking me for my patience." Steve curled his lip.
"Yeah," Danny said, with his best straight face, with his most earnest tone. "It's terrible when you have to work with people who aren't being reasonable or listening to logic, isn't it? And if the wind changes, your face'll stick like that."
Steve rolled his eyes.
"You know," Danny continued, leaning back in his chair, "you could ask Kono for help with this. I think she had paperwork stuff to deal with, after the thing with the golf clubs and the arsonist and her shoulder." It probably said something terrible about him, that Danny was starting to feel obscurely proud about some of the more unorthodox ways in which Kono had been called on to demonstrate her skills as a sniper.
"I commanded a team of naval intelligence officers and led men on three continents, Danny. I think I can cope with filling out some insurance forms by myself, even if they're all stupidly long."
"Uh huh," Danny said, then watched as Steve turned to the next page and huffed out a long sigh at whatever he read there. Honestly, he could still be in bed, wrapped up in a comforter and playing catch-up on his sleep deficit, but here he was: keeping his boyfriend company because otherwise the grumpy was sure to expand to fill their entire day. The sacrifices he made. "You're lucky you're cute, you realise."
And see, that right there was the best reason he was sitting here: because saying something like that to Steve, no matter how offhand, was guaranteed to make him smile in a way that could still make Danny's toes curl. He grinned back at Steve, and then drained the last of his coffee. "Just don't let it go to your head."
"Would never, Danno," Steve said, and jeez, the guy was practically dimpling at him, that just wasn't fair.
"Yeah, yeah," Danny said, mock grumbling as he stood. "Drink your stinky tea, would you, that paperwork's not going to do itself."
"You know," Steve said, wide-eyed, "with that kind of terrible attitude—"
"Do not even." Danny dropped a kiss on Steve's temple as he walked past, right against where his hair was starting to show more salt than pepper. "That's my line."
"Oh really?" Steve said, looking at him over his shoulder, and that look right there was making Danny think about the attraction of a comfortable mattress and the warmth of the late morning sun. The word incorrigible had been coined for Steven McGarrett. "What's my line?"
"You need me to tell you?"
Steve laughed, and ducked his head, and turned back to his paperwork. "No, but that one's shared, isn't it?"
"Idiot," Danny said fondly, and turned back to kiss him again. "You know it is." He paused for a moment before continuing, "But if you think that means I'm going to do this for you, you've got another think coming."
"Aww, c'mon…"
"Nuh uh," Danny said, disentangling himself from Steve, who could be very handsy when he wanted to be. He had some stuff of his own he wanted to get done before they went over to Chin's. He went back into the kitchen with his empty mug, calling over his shoulder, "But if you get through that quick enough, I'll upgrade you to a D.B. Cooper case."
It took a moment for Steve to work that one through, but then the house resounded to a shout of, "Sir, yes sir!"
Let it never be said that Danny Williams didn't understand motivation.