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"Danny, really, I'm so sorry," Steve says as he follows Danny into his office. He tries to stifle his smile and work his expression into something closer to contrite.
"Are you? Tell me, are you seriously sorry? Because I'm thinking you're not," Danny says. "Not with that face you're making."
Danny's shirt is soaked with rain and clinging to his shoulders, his wet hair plastered against his head as he glares at Steve, wonderfully ruffled and irritated.
"What can I say?" Steve gives up on contrition, and grins at Danny. "You agreed to go around the block and check out the shop from the back."
"Yes, I did, that is correct." Danny points an accusing finger at Steve. "But you, my friend, are enjoying this a little too much."
The downpour was sudden and brief, but it was enough to drench Danny while Steve remained safe and dry under the front awning. When Danny appeared in the shop, bedraggled and dripping on the tile floor, it was all Steve could to do keep from laughing as they questioned the owner.
It had been a waste of their time, though, since the shop owner knew nothing about the statues. The entire day had been a waste of time. Chasing down stolen art is boring, too sedate for Steve's tastes. The high point of the day had been Danny's impromptu drenching, and now Steve's ready to go home and have a beer and hope that tomorrow brings new information so that they can close this case and move on to something a little more exciting.
"Okay, okay." Steve sits on the edge of Danny's desk and looks him over again. "Maybe I am enjoying it. Just a little. It's been a slow day."
"Yeah. That's real nice. You have a problem, you know that? This is a perfectly interesting case, despite the lack of explosions." With a grimace, Danny begins to unbutton his wet shirt. "Anyway, it's clear we're on the wrong track with the shop. But I had a thought."
"Did you really?" Steve asks, pleased and fascinated as Danny's chest is exposed, one button at a time.
"Yes, and no need to act so surprised." Danny tugs his shirt free from the waistband of his pants and slips it off his shoulders.
"Uh huh," Steve murmurs distractedly.
Danny's chest is wonderfully hairy, swirls of golden brown hair everywhere. It's not like Steve's never seen Danny without a shirt--after all, they had lived together for several weeks--but he had only gotten tantalizing glimpses. Not like this, in a brightly lit office, with Danny close enough to touch.
"Longren has a girlfriend in Kailua, right?" Danny pulls his arms free and drapes his wet shirt over a chair, then reaches behind the door and retrieves a clean shirt from the coat rack. It's freshly laundered, neatly buttoned up on the hanger and draped in plastic. Danny strides past Steve, waving the shirt with a flourish, plastic rustling in the breeze. Tapping a finger on the map tacked to the wall, he says, "So he's driving, let's see, driving up and down highway 61 every couple days or so."
Danny's back is strong and straight and there are freckles dusting his shoulders. As he reaches up to touch the map, the muscles his his shoulders flex and bulge. He's built, no doubt about it. Not that Steve's surprised--Danny may be small but his shoulders are broad and with the way his shirts cling to his body, it's hard not to notice his shoulders. So yeah, Steve's noticed. He's noticed a lot about Danny. Maybe a little too much.
"She works commercial real estate, with an office here." Danny points to a spot along the docks.
"Maybe that's where they're setting up the meetings?" With great difficulty, Steve drags his eyes up to Danny's face. "In the vacant office space?"
Danny nods, apparently pleased that they're on the same page. He stares at the map some more, contemplating as he removes the plastic bag surrounding his fresh shirt. "Still, it doesn't explain where he has them stashed." Danny tosses the plastic onto the desk behind Steve. "Unless--"
"Unless?" Steve prompts, drawing in a sharp breath as Danny's bare arm brushes against his.
"He's going to need easy access, since he's selling them off one by one, right?" Danny grows more thoughtful as he scratches the side of his neck, then smooths his hair back, flashing a dark patch of underarm hair.
Steve wants to run his hand down Danny's side and over his chest and he's sure all that chest hair is soft to the touch, that it would tickle his hand and maybe tickle his nose. He wants to nuzzle Danny's chest, and maybe lick his nipples, and he wonders what kind of noises Danny might make if he did, and if Danny enjoys that kind of thing, and if Danny enjoys that kind of thing with other guys. Which is not something Steve should be thinking about, right now or any other time, damn it.
"...so anyway, what do you think?" Danny asks, watching Steve as he waits for an answer.
Steve scrubs a hand over his face. "I think it's worth looking into," he says, wondering what he just agreed to.
He wishes Danny would just put the damn shirt on.
Danny unbuttons the shirt, freeing it from the hanger. "You would, wouldn't you?"
"Huh?" Steve has completely lost track of the conversation.
"Exactly." Danny rolls his eyes, then crosses the room to return the hanger to the coat rack, but it slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. With an irritated noise, Danny bends down to pick it up.
Steve has always appreciated Danny's dress pants, how they cling lovingly to every curve. He also appreciates Danny's ass even though he tries not to, because that's not an appropriate way to treat a friend, never mind a colleague but it's all right there in front of him, Danny's pants riding low as he squats down to retrieve the hanger. Low enough to reveal the the shadowy dip just below the small of his back and huh, only bare skin there. No exposed waistband, no sign of any underwear at all.
Intrigued, Steve cranes his neck, trying to see more without being obvious but Danny has straightened up and he's talking again, something about the size of the statues as he places the hanger on the hook and Steve can't take his eyes off of Danny's backside, and the smoothness of his well-fitting trousers. There aren't any lines under the fabric, which doesn't mean anything. Danny's probably got on boxers, or boxer briefs, because of course he's wearing underwear.
Danny turns to Steve, arms spread wide, his shirt still dangling from his fingertips and not on his body, where it should be. "What is with you?" he asks.
"What?" Steve replies, face growing warm. "Nothing is with me, Danny." He answers as indignantly as he can manage, because a good offense is the best defense.
"Yes, yes there is. You've been in lala land ever since we got back. Did you get hit on the head with a raindrop or something?"
Steve frowns. "Lala land?"
Danny's facing him now, and Steve can't help glancing down at Danny thighs, because the underwear thing is weighing on him. He can't see any line at the top of Danny's thighs where boxers might show.
"Yes, lala land. You haven't heard a word I've said, have you? And yes, my pants are wet too, why are you staring at them? I didn't spill anything, it's just water." Danny looks down at plucks at his pants, briefly pulling them tighter at around his thighs and Steve thinks he might have seen a line from the edge of a pair of boxers, but he's not sure.
"I'm not staring at anything." Steve slides off the desk and focuses on the map, worried that Danny might decide to change his pants without putting that damn shirt on first.
The last thing he needs is Danny parading around the office shirtless and pantless. And maybe underwearless. Steve rubs his eyes, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache coming on.
"Yo, Steven." With an exasperated sound, Danny manages to slip in between Steve and the map, right in Steve's field of view. His shirt is in his hand, still not on his god damn body and his pants are riding lower than ever on his hips, exposing a pale strip of untanned skin but still, no sign of any boxers or briefs. "So are you going to tell me what is wrong with you?"
"Are you even wearing underwear?" Steve finally snaps.
Danny goes still, eyebrows raised in astonishment. "What?"
"Underwear," Steve says, enunciating carefully. "Are you wearing any, Danny."
"Am I wearing underwear?" Danny asks.
"Yes. That's what I said." Steve refuses to feel ridiculous. It's a perfectly valid question.
"Am I wearing any underwear?" Danny repeats, and he's grinning now, a broad, incredulous grin.
"Yes or no, Danny."
Danny waves a hand at the map. "All this, and you're asking about my underwear?" There's laughter in his voice.
"Yes."
Suddenly Danny's eyes narrow and his expression turns sly. "You spend a lot of time thinking about my underwear, Steven?"
Steve's mouth goes dry. It's entirely possible Danny might be on to him, even though Steve's never breathed a word of it to anyone. He's been careful to conceal the depth of his feelings, yet here Danny is, looking at him and seeing too much, looking at him as if as if he knows all of Steve's secrets. And as if the content of said secrets please him greatly.
Steve's thrilled and terrified, all at the same time.
"Okay. Okay. You want to know if I'm wearing underwear?" Danny asks, his voice low. He tosses his unworn shirt aside, reaches down and unfastens his pants.
Steve's pretty sure all the air has left the room, he can hardly breathe as Danny unzips his pants and spreads the fly open, revealing the elastic waistband of his underwear, which he is indeed wearing.
"Boxers. Blue pinstripe boxers, to be specific," Danny explains as he peers down. "Happy now?"
"No." Steve's throat grows tight because there's no turning back now. "Disappointed, actually."
"You were hoping I wasn't wearing any underwear?" Danny moves closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head up to look Steve in the eye.
"I figured," Steve takes a breath, unable to keep his heart from racing. "I figured since you seemed unable to put your shirt back on, that you, uh--"
His hand is on Danny's shoulder. He's not sure how it got there but Danny is warm and steady under his palm. Like he's not going anywhere.
"Oh. So you want me to put my shirt back on, hmmm?"
"No," Steve says quickly. He runs his hand across Danny's pecs and finds that Danny's chest hair is indeed soft.
Danny leans into his touch, his eyes bright, a small smile playing on his lips. "Okay."
"Okay?" Steve repeats, and he's smiling too, because he's got Danny right here in front of him, and he's touching Danny, and Danny's not running away in horror.
"Okay, yeah," Danny says with a huff of laughter. He curls a hand around Steve's outstretched arm. "I think we're having a moment here. Are we, Steve? Is this a moment going on here?"
The playful note is gone from his voice, replaced by something a little more cautious, yet his expression remains full of hope.
"That's up to you." Steve wants to give Danny one last chance to back away.
"Oh. Well then." Danny drops the shirt the the floor, slides his hand up Steve's arm and cups Steve's cheek, his thumb moving gently over Steve's skin.
Then he reaches up on tiptoe and kisses Steve. A soft brush of lips, gentle yet deliberate and altogether wonderful. Danny smells like rainwater, clean and fresh, and he slides a hand under Steve's shirt, rubbing Steve's back as they kiss.
Steve pulls Danny closer, sliding an arm around Danny's waist and all that warm, naked skin pressed against him makes Steve a little giddy and a whole lot reckless. He realizes that Danny's pants are still unfastened so it's an easy thing to slip a hand under the waistband and directly onto Danny's ass, cupping his hand over firm, curved muscle.
Danny makes a small noise into Steve's mouth and his kisses grow rougher, more desperate as he presses up against Steve, one arm slung around Steve's neck. Steve turns, bringing Danny with him, pushing Danny back until Danny's sitting on the edge of the desk, with Steve standing between Danny's spread legs. It's easier to kiss Danny now, to drag his lips across Danny's stubbled cheek, to reach down and explore the sensitive skin along Danny's neck, one hand splayed over Danny's chest as Danny wriggles and squirms and tugs him closer. When Steve bites down gently at the crook of Danny's neck, Danny moans out loud and it's a total rush, Danny making such a needy, helpless sound. Just for him.
Steve leans Danny back so that he can get a hand down Danny's open pants, beneath his underwear and directly onto his hard, hot cock.
"Oh, fuck, Steve--" Danny grabs Steve's arm and god, Danny looks gorgeous, his damp hair falling over his forehead, his eyes dark and dazed as he pants, open-mouthed, looking a bit stunned and hell yeah, Steve likes that look on him. He kisses Danny's open mouth as he closes his hand over Danny's cock. Danny leans back, knocking the phone from his desk with a thud.
Danny twists around, startled. Steve breathes in sharply.
Danny's desk.
Damn it to hell, they're still in the office.
Shaking his head, Steve pulls his hand from Danny's pants, and Danny slowly uncurls his fingers from Steve's wrist. "Animal," he says with a warm smile. Like it's a term of endearment.
Steve ducks his head, bumping his forehead against Danny's. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"That," Danny says. "Is a great idea."
He pulls Steve down and kisses him, rough and dirty and full of promise. Steve groans, leaning into the kiss, nearly falling on top of Danny when Danny pulls away. "What are you doing?" Danny teases, hands on Steve's shoulders, holding him up. "We're leaving now. Why aren't we leaving? Why aren't we home in your bed, naked and doing unspeakable things to each other?"
With a low growl Steve pulls back, dragging Danny with him, pulling Danny off the desk. "Put your shirt on," he orders, reaching down to retrieve it from the floor. He feels shaky and breathless, like he just ran up a mountain.
Danny grabs his shirt and scrambles to get it on, fingers fumbling with the buttons. His pants are still undone and Steve can't resist dropping to his knees and nosing at Danny's cock, beneath the blue pinstripe boxers.
Danny curses, a hand going to Steve's head. "Stop that, I can't--"
He sounds so flustered that Steve takes pity on him and carefully zips up Danny's pants, then kisses Danny's stomach before rising to his feet. "Come on, come on," he says, helping Danny button his shirt.
"I'm buttoning as fast as I can. Which is ridiculous, because I'm just going to have to unbutton this when we get back to your place," Danny complains. He finishes with the shirt and smooths down the front of it, leaving it untucked, with the cuffs hanging loose and unbuttoned at his wrists. Danny runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. "Okay, am I decent?"
"No," Steve says. "Never."
Danny laughs, then surprises Steve with a fierce hug and Steve grins into Danny's hair, delighted with the sudden affection and he can't wait to get Danny home and into his bed.
"We ready to do this?" Danny asks as he releases Steve.
"Not getting cold feet, are you?"
Danny shakes his head. "I assure you, my feet are very, very warm. I just want to make sure you don't have any second--hey, hey, hey--" Danny complains as Steve grabs Danny by the shoulders and pushes him toward the door. "I get it, I get it, your good with this, huh?"
Steve hustles Danny out the door, down the stairs, and into the parking lot. They get outside only to find that it's find it's raining again, they're soaked through to the skin by time they reach the car and Steve just laughs and laughs even though Danny tries to insist that it's not funny, Steven, not funny at all but Steve promises to help Danny out of his wet clothes when they get home, because he's generous that way. And when he does, he finds out that Danny's feet really are warm, as is the rest of his body, along with his smile, and his heart, and Steve basks in that warmth, all night long.