oh hot damn

Beautiful scenery
Witty banter
Displays of athleticism
Injuries
Profession of love
or
Friendly wave goodbye

Rec #1 | Rec #2

—

I Do Not Hook Up | Kelly Clarkson

oh no
i do not hook up
up, i go slow
so if you want me
i don’t come cheap
keep your hand on my head and your heart on my sleeve
oh no
i do not hook up
up, i fall deep
‘cause the more that you try
the harder i’ll fight
to say goodnight

—

Thirty-Six Hours and Fifteen Minutes | leupagus

“I’m serious,” Steve protests as he backs up toward the bed. He pulls his shirt off by the hem and tosses it into a corner. “Maybe we should take it slow.”

“Take it — we’ve been making out like Amish people for a month, how much slower is this gonna get?” Danny says, distracted by the flush across Steve’s chest as Steve sits down on the bed, leaning back on his hands like he’s laying himself out for some magazine photoshoot.

“Whatever you want,” Steve answers, which doesn’t make sense but they’re bickering more out of habit right now anyway.

Danny comes to stand between Steve’s knees and Steve reaches out for his tie again. Danny swats his hand away. “What is it with you and my tie, seriously.”

“It’s ugly,” Steve argues, yanking at Danny’s shirt instead. He gets it untucked and skims his fingers across the small of Danny’s back, warm and already a little possessive.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Danny mutters, his throat dry.

“Maybe if you took it off I wouldn’t have to bitch about it so much,” Steve replies, tilting his head up in this expectant way, like Danny’s going to kiss him just because he wants him to.

“Maybe I’ll keep it on the whole time,” Danny says, “And you’ll have to resign yourself to the fact that you’ve got the hots for some be-tied mainlanderwho doesn’t even—”

“Is that what you’re into?” Steve asks brightly. He pushes himself up and Danny leans down just far enough, biting at the swell of Steve’s lower lip where he’s sweetest. Steve hums a little against his mouth — he likes it when Danny uses his teeth, Danny notices these things — and adds, “You want me naked while you’ve got your tie and your shirt and your awful shoes—”

“Seriously, so much yammering.”

“It’s important to communicate our desires, Danny,” Steve says seriously, and honestly? Danny puts his hand over Steve’s crotch partially out of curiosity and partially out of desire but mostly in the hope that it’ll make Steve shut his goddamn face.

And it works, too — a little better than Danny anticipated. Steve sucks in a sharp breath and collapses back on the bed, his arms limp at his side and pushing his hips up into Danny’s hand. He looks — Jesus, he looks like a porn star chick, wanton, like Danny’s doing something so good he can’t control himself. Danny really wants to blurt out something stupid like, “How the hell long has it been for you?” except he remembers Lieutenant Tall Dark and Lovely from last fall just fine.

So instead he climbs up onto the bed alongside and keeps his hand right where it is, working Steve through his jeans. Steve’s hard and warm and every time Danny slides up to where the head of Steve’s dick is pressed against the zipper Steve makes this really amazing sound in the back of his throat, like he’s turned on and kind of pissed off about it.

“See, this could be a problem,” Danny says conversationally.

“Uhhh,” Steve replies. “What?”

“Well, on the one hand,” he says, and he swears to God he can’t help the way he squeezes Steve’s cock right then, because his grandfather made a lot of puns and who is anyone to deny their heritage, “I’ve figured out a way to shut you up. On the other, it’s going to be really awkward if I do this at the Five-0 headquarters.”

Steve struggles to get his elbows under him, propped up and looking so fucking outraged that Danny actually snorts laughing. “You’re fired,” Steve tells him.

Hawaii 5-0, 1x13 - Ke Kinohi

I’m sure I could come up with a better name than that for this project, but whatever.  I’ll deal.  Basically, certain fics pair up with certain songs in my head and then sometimes, I feel the need to express that through fanart.  It’s pretty experimental, but I hope you guys dig it;

—

Tear Down the House | The Avett Brothers

tear down the house that I grew up in
i’ll never be the same again
take everything that i’ve collected
and throw it in a pile

—

Curving Like The Ocean Toward You | gyzym

Some days, when Danny is feeling particularly down on his luck and the guys at the bar are looking particularly unappealing, he wishes he was actually Steve’s partner in the non-work sense. Not for any reason, really, certainly not because he’s madly in love with the lunatic, no, no, that would be crazy and in direct violation of his self-preservation instincts. Just because it would make it a little better, having to do all these things for Steve that a girlfriend would do, that a boyfriend would do, that a different kind of partner would do if he had one.

Then again, the chances of Steve finding someone willing to deal with his insanity on a regular basis are probably the same as Danny’s chances at locating anyone able to tolerate his constant rage problem. They’re more or less stuck with each other.

In any case, he drives to Steve’s place with his apprehension growing, more than a little worried about what he’ll find. Steve’s truck is in his driveway, which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s home—he could be out for a swim or running up mountains or beating a criminal to death with an ice-pick, it’s hard to know. Danny lets himself in through the front door and punches in the alarm code, figuring he’ll wait Steve out if he’s not around.

“Babe?” he calls, and winces. He has got to stop doing that.

“In here,” is the response. Danny follows the sound of his voice to the study, where Steve is sitting in a chair, staring at the wall.

Which—okay, for anyone else this would look normal enough, a little bleak, maybe, but nothing to panic about. For Danny, who was the first person on the scene after Jack McGarrett’s murder, it’s a little more complicated. Steve’s chair is sitting in the exact same spot as the one his father was tied to when he was shot; Danny would be willing to bet it’s even the same chair, although why the hell Steve would have held onto that he doesn’t know.

He’s staring at the wall where the blood spatter was, once.

Danny’s heart is in his throat, fellow-feeling welling up inside him, coiling sick in his stomach. He doesn’t think, just crosses the room until he’s right in front of Steve, blocking his view. He reaches out a hand and puts it on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve just sighs and leans forward, sagging into him, his head on Danny’s chest. The line of his back is a long, pained slope, and Danny can’t help but reach down to rub it, as soothing as he can be. They’re surrounded by decor Steve would never have picked himself, couches and curtains he hasn’t changed at all, and Danny thinks mausoleum, wonders how he never saw it before.

“I think it’s about time to get you out of this house, Steve,” he says.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “yeah, that sounds about right.”