Work Text:
It takes Steve several weeks of working as part of Five-O before he notices the tiny cross tattoo on Danny’s hand. He doesn’t mention this to the room full of detectives he works with. Okay, he admits, maybe he still has a few things to learn about being observant.
One thing Steve does know is that usually where there’s one tattoo, there are surely more somewhere else. Ink is addictive. This he knows intimately; the pleasure-pain of the needles piercing your skin and the sunburn sting afterwards, not to mention the satisfaction of having those symbols most important to you displayed for the world to see.
He wonders about Danny’s cross. He doesn’t seem particularly religious. Maybe the tattoo was the result of some youthful rebellion that was perhaps planned to placate his parents enough to not get him kicked out of the house. He can imagine it, “Look Ma, it’s a cross. I just love church so much that I wanted to get a tattoo to show it.” Steve chuckles a bit at that thought.
Steve wonders what other tattoos Danny’s surely hiding. Maybe it’s something really embarrassing. Maybe that’s why he’s always reluctant to go swimming and to relinquish his prim-and-proper button-up shirts. What means a lot to Danny, Steve thinks. Before the thought is complete, he knows the answer: Grace. Does Danny have an old-styled heart tattoo on his bicep with “Grace” written across it in flourishing letters?
He thinks he would like to find out if Danny is hiding more ink under those shirts. Steve thinks it would be nice to drag his teeth across dyed skin and nice to feel that skin heat up against his.
Steve is grinning to himself, pen poised over paperwork which at this point only requires his signature, when the soft sound of someone clearing their throat occurs at his door. His fantasy is interrupted with the very object thereof, as Danny stands there looking quizzical with another ream of papers.
His first instinct is to panic about the inappropriateness of his fantasies towards his male, likely straight, subordinate, partner. The mere thought of fantasizing about Danny flusters Steve more, and he feels himself blush as he struggles to think of something useful to say.
Danny fills in the silence before Steve can get a grasp on words. “Are you okay,” Danny asks. “You’re looking a little flushed, babe.”
Steve’s mind continues reeling at the nonchalant endearment Danny uses. How could he possibly use “babe” so casually? Doesn’t he know what that does to him?
A few more heartbeats pass before Steve finds his voice. “Yeah, I, uh, I’m fine. Thanks. Just, uh, y’know. Hungry.” He almost shakes his head at his own stammering and blatant lie. He shuffles some papers on his desk in an attempt to look more focused on work than he feels. His eyebrows draw together and he stares at Danny. “Did you need something?”
Danny looks a little thrown off himself and it’s a moment before he shakes the ream of papers at Steve. “I brought more forms you need to sign. But they can wait,” he pauses. “Do you want to get dinner? Maybe drinks? You know, this stuff really can wait.”
Danny’s voice sounds a little unsteady to Steve and he can swear there’s a hint of a blush staining his cheeks, too. Steve wonders if Danny is flirting just a bit with him. Maybe there was a reason he kept calling him “babe”. His mind cycles through other signs: casual touching, almost-caught glances, the teasing...
Steve decides there is only one way to answer all of the questions he has about Danny, now. “Yeah, dinner, drinks... I uh... Think that’s a good idea.”
He thinks that maybe it’s time to use all of that charm in order to find his answers.
“Babe,” adds Steve, grinning.