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Terribly Domestic

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Chin's not quite sure how it happened--okay, so his math may have been a little off when he told Danny he was with him 1000% on the Hanamoa case, but that doesn't really explain why Danny keeps following him home, nights they've been out drinking too much, or why Danny calls him when his apartment building needs fumigating and he decides he'd rather move altogether, but here they are. Danny's spent the last week making himself more comfortable, and if Chin's been kind of slow with helping in Danny's apartment hunting, well. He's getting more comfortable, too.

And for all he'd rather no one else know what he's thinking, Chin doesn't lie to himself. There's a reason he keeps bringing Danny food--the man is appreciative, licking his fingers right out in public, and it edges on obscene. So when Chin gets to see him at home, when Danny rolls out of the guest room and isn't yet armored for the day, he can't help himself. He presses a mug of fresh coffee into Danny's waiting hands, shares his toast covered in ohelo berry jam. Danny's even better to watch, like this: he closes his eyes and groans a heartfelt thanks, and Chin has to take another sip of his own coffee to cover the way his breath stutters, the way he can't help watching.

Chin decides he's going to have to see this more often.




By the time they make it home, they're both punchy and irritable: Danny from chasing worthless leads by calling unhelpful people and Chin from staring at financial records all day. Danny grabs a beer and points himself out to the deck; Chin doesn't relax until he's in the kitchen, laying out knives and boards, bowls and spices, pots and frying pans. He's deep into it by the time Danny comes back inside--namurus finished, beef soboro almost done, the eggs just starting to sizzle in their pan.

Danny starts talking even before he comes through the screen door. "Hey, that smells fantas--holy shit." He stops on the other side of the breakfast bar, empty bottle hanging between two fingers. "Are you expecting an army, should I be worried about my safety, here?"

Unfortunately, Chin can only spare a glance for the way Danny's rumpled, unbuttoned and unwound. He checks the beef, flips the eggs, and starts adding rice to a couple of big bowls. "Just us, brah," he reassures Danny while he works. "I like this--" and he waves his spoon to indicate the organized chaos of the kitchen, "--but it's never worth the trouble for just me."

"Oh, yeah?" Danny skirts around the bar, moves easily past Chin at the stove to grab them both beers from the fridge before returning to the bar and settling on one of the stools. "And what is 'this,' exactly?"

Chin finishes adding to the bowls: he slides the eggs on top and jabs chopsticks along the side before passing a bowl to Danny and setting his own bowl on the bar. "Bibimbap, my mom's recipe."

Danny stares down into the bowl, screws up his face and mouths the word like he's going to try it out before he gives up and grabs his chopsticks to dig in. Chin adds plenty of gochujang to his bowl, and Danny asks, "Okay, what's that?"

"Chili paste," Chin answers and slides the jar over. "'S good for you."

Danny considers a moment and adds some to his bowl before he starts eating. It takes a few bites--they're both hungry enough to attack their bowls with gusto--but eventually Danny stops eating long enough to lean his shoulder against Chin's and groan, "Chin Ho Kelly."

"Yo." Chin's hoping he's playing it cool, not revealing just how much he likes hearing his name in that voice.

"It has been a long time since somebody cooked me a meal, you know, me, specifically, and this, this is fantastic," Danny says. He glances over, and his expression has gone soft, the crinkles around his eyes folding deep as he smiles. "Thank you."

Chin leans against Danny's solid shoulder and smiles back.




After the bibimbap, Danny accepts whatever Chin puts in front of him with equal grace: lomi lomi salmon, naeng-myun, kimchi, loco moco. He insists on doing the dishes, after, although Chin can’t bring himself to just leave Danny with the clean-up. It’s terribly domestic, and something Chin keeps reminding himself not to get used to.

It’s not easy, though, with the way Danny’s relaxed into Chin’s home like he belongs there, or the way Kono keeps winking at him from across the surface table. “What?” he asks, putting as much irritation as he can in his voice and very pointedly not bothering to look up.

“Oh, nothing,” Kono singsongs, all innocence as she transfers M.E. reports onto the backup server. Chin waits her out; it doesn’t take long. “Danny’s been complaining he’s gaining weight, is all.”

Chin snorts softly. If anything, Danny looks better, less like he’s hopped up on rage and caffeine, and his pants fit the same as they always have--Chin would have noticed otherwise, but it’s not like he’s going to mention it.

“And you, you’re all relaxed over there,” she prods. “Kameli says you’ve been buying all the good stuff. You cooking again?”

“Kameli needs to worry about her own groceries,” Chin grumbles. His scowl only grows when he spots the browser window Kono flicks in his direction: Governor Signs Bill Legalizing Civil Unions. He levels a glare at her and stabs the browser closed. “Seriously?”

She looks up with wide eyes and a wicked grin. “December third, cuz. Better get a move on.”




In a rare turn of events, Danny’s out of the office considerably earlier than Chin, who’d drawn the short straw on inventory and requisition for the month. Chin figures Danny will use the time for apartment hunting, so he doesn’t hurry, instead enjoying the quiet of the office all to himself. He’s surprised to need to maneuver the bike around Danny’s Camaro when he gets home, to see the lights on like the whole place is waiting for him.

Chin can smell toasted garlic as soon as he parks, and he rubs his knuckles against the ache behind his breastbone before he opens the garage door. Danny’s singing along with the stereo, both of them loud and Danny almost on-key, as he bops gently in front of the stove, the two biggest stockpots in the house on the burners. He’s wearing jeans and a paint-splattered t-shirt that’s seen better days, and Chin spends a long moment watching his bare feet on the tiles.

Chin shuts the door behind him with a loud bang, enough to make Danny turn with a grin.

“Hey, about time you got home,” Danny greets him cheerfully. “I was beginning to think you got buried under a crate of McGarrett’s flash bangs.”

“Nah,” Chin answers with a smile of his own, “I did have an argument with the ammunition, though.”

“Not enough, or too much?”

“Not as much as Steve asked for, more than PDs twice our size go through. In a year,” he says, and Danny snorts agreement.

Danny waves a big spoon around, pointing at the breakfast bar and slopping a dollop of red sauce onto the floor. “Sit, it’s practically ready.”

Chin winces a little--he’d laid those tiles, and he likes that they’re mostly-white--and grabs some paper towels to wipe up the floor before he sits at the place Danny’d laid out. “Wha--”

“Puttanesca,” Danny crows, ladling a generous helping of sauce atop the noodles in their bowls. “This, my friend, this is comfort food.”

“I did have to draft a memo explaining why we can’t requisition BASE-jumping equipment tonight,” Chin says as Danny sets the bowl and a beer in front of him.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Danny grumbles and slides into his own seat.

Chin laughs. “No, brah, the form was Kono’s. McGarrett added wingsuits.”

Danny nearly spits out his beer and dissolves into--yep, those are definitely giggles, and Chin’s helpless against them. Danny manages to get out a few words between gasps of air: “Squirrel...oh, God, Steve...flying squirrel,” complete with pantomime, and Chin pulls out his best Boris impression, which just sets them off again.

They end up leaning shoulder to shoulder, both needing to wipe their eyes before they start eating. The pasta is delicious, spicy with a touch of sweet, and Chin’s starving.

“Anyway,” Danny says eventually, “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Steve and Kono over for a cookout Saturday.” Chin cuts him a look, and Danny scratches at his eyebrow. “Come on, you’ve seen McGarrett this week, he’s been going around looking like somebody took his favorite chew toy.”

“And did they?” Chin asks, watching Danny carefully. The comparison is apt; Chin’s caught Steve wearing a hurt, confused expression around the office since last week, when Danny started bringing leftovers of Chin’s cooking for lunch.

“No! Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” Danny confesses and blows out a sigh. He leans his head on one hand and looks down at his bowl, twirls his fork in the last of the pasta. “I think he feels left out, or something, that I come home with you--” and Chin can’t help the warm, pleased bubble in his chest at that, “--and he maybe thinks I should have asked to live with him? But honestly, no, just, no way am I subjecting myself to Steve’s crazy twenty-four-seven, so I thought I could show him...I dunno, that we’re still good. You know?”

Chin nods. “Yeah. ‘S fine, I get it.”

“And I wouldn’t have to, you know, if I’d just found a place already,” Danny rumbles and looks over, his eyes hooded. “I should, I know, but--”

“No,” Chin cuts him off perhaps a bit too sharply. “It’s not a problem, really. It’s--” he draws a breath, can’t quite believe what’s coming out of his mouth, “You’re a good roommate.”

Danny licks his lips and Chin can’t not watch. “I miss this, you know?” Danny confesses softly and sits up, waving his hand to indicate them, the kitchen, the house. “Eating dinner with somebody. Sharing space. I like it.”

“Me too,” Chin whispers, leaning toward Danny like he’s turning to the sun. “You. You should stay.”

Danny’s hand comes up alongside Chin’s face, palm solid against his jaw and fingers curving around his cheekbone. Chin can smell the garlic on Danny’s fingertips, gets just a glimpse of blue before his eyes slide shut, before they’re kissing, warm and easy.

Danny pulls back too soon, tugging against Chin’s hold on his shirt, and Chin opens his eyes to see Danny's forehead creased in a slight frown. "Not that I'd be doing this with just anybody I live with, y'know," he says, “just to be clear, it’s not like I go for any warm bo--”

“Danny,” Chin growls, “do you ever shut up?”

“Have you met me?” Danny asks, grin wide and sassy.

Chin has to wrap his other hand around the back of Danny’s head, his fingers pushing up into that ridiculous, soft little duck-tail, has to haul Danny back in and shut him up properly. Somehow they end up on their feet, one of the barstools crashing to the floor behind them as Chin pushes and Danny pulls. Danny barely grunts when his shoulders hit the wall and Chin uses his hips to pin him there, to keep him still while he chases the scent of aftershave to the hollow behind Danny’s jaw, while he works his hands up under the t-shirt to find bare skin.

“God, Chin,” Danny gasps, his hands working to get Chin’s shirt untucked from his jeans, “I didn’t--I want--fuck, Kono’s gonna--”

“Danny,” Chin says sharply, leaning back and holding Danny in place with his hands against Danny’s hips. He frowns, although it’s a hard thing to do, with the way Danny’s hair is already half-mussed and his expression’s somewhere between blissed-out and befuddled. “We are not discussing my cousin right now. Any of them.”

Danny’s fingers find the bare skin under Chin’s shirt, and he leans into the touch, sucks in a breath at the way it makes their hips fit together. “Okay,” Danny agrees.

“Hmmm,” Chin says, considering, and he rolls their hips together again, just to see the way Danny arches into it. “You can shut up when I’m talking--”

“I know how to yield the floor,” Danny says prissily, the annoyed look on his face completely at odds with the way he’s gulping in breath, the way he’s holding onto Chin’s back pockets.

Chin pushes forward again, catching Danny solidly against the wall from shoulders to knees and wrapping both hands high on Danny’s thighs, right up under his ass. “Is that what it takes, then?” Chin growls into Danny’s ear. “I just need to keep talking?”

Danny’s head thunks against the wall when he nods enthusiastically. “Fuck, yes,” he says breathlessly, “I can’t do interrogations with you, you get all intense and I end up watching you instead of the suspect and it’s--”

“I’m still talking,” Chin reminds him and squeezes his ass, hitching Danny a little higher between him and the wall. Danny’s bare feet skid against the floor as he scrabbles for leverage to push back against the way Chin’s grinding against him. “I’ve been watching you, too, you know.” Chin can feel his voice get deeper, the way his growl sinks into his chest when Danny starts pressing open-mouthed kisses under his ear. “All buttoned up, wearing your tie like another badge, like that’s all you need to keep yourself professional, keep yourself under control.” He pulls back, just enough to slide Danny’s shirt up with the hand that pins Danny’s shoulders to the wall, enough to get his other hand between them and get Danny’s jeans open and down. Danny groans and takes advantage of the space himself, tugging hard at Chin’s buttons.

“But I know better,” Chin tells him, and Danny stares back, spread against the wall and panting, his focus on watching Chin talk. “I know what you really want, I know what you’re really like under all that procedure.” He leans back in, groaning at the contact of naked skin, of bare cocks sliding together, gets one hand back in Danny’s hair and the other under Danny’s ass. “You’re not wearing your tie anymore,” he whispers in Danny’s ear, hisses when Danny’s fingernails scratch low across his back.

Danny not-so-gently sets his teeth against Chin’s shoulder, moaning and pushing up, his fingers digging into Chin’s hips, rocking into Chin like he can’t get enough. Chin knows how he feels and revels in it, in the way they’re quickly getting sweaty, the way his foreskin catches against Danny’s smooth cock as they slide together.

“I wanna see you lose it,” Chin pants against Danny’s cheek. “I wanna watch you lose control, Danny. I’m gonna make you, I’ve been waiting, gonna, wanna swallow you down, suck your cock till you scream--” and Danny makes a noise that Chin definitely wants to hear again, “--ride you, ride your cock, I want it all and I want you to give it to me.”

“Chin,” Danny gasps, right on the edge, and Chin grinds hard, grabbing Danny’s ass with both hands and hitching him high again. They barely slide, balls drawn up tight against each other’s and their dicks trapped between them, rocking together and it feels--

“Come on,” Chin breathes, “fuck, Danny--”

Danny sucks in a long breath and goes tense, his grip tight against Chin’s hipbones. Chin leans back just enough to see, just enough to watch Danny come apart, and the slick of Danny’s come over his cock makes his hips push forward, makes him groan.

“Fuck, Chin,” Danny grunts and looks down; Chin follows his gaze to see the mess between them, both their cocks sliding wetly together, and it’s enough to take him over, his orgasm rolling through him like the tide.

Chin tucks his face against Danny’s neck, feels Danny doing the same. They breathe together for a while, Danny’s hands gone gentle over Chin’s hips and Chin enjoying the crisp-soft hair at the small of Danny’s back.

“That was--” Danny starts and lifts his head, the shift making the come squelch between their bellies.

“Messy?” Chin supplies, and he feels more than hears Danny laugh.

“I was gonna go with ‘fuck yeah,’ but okay,” Danny says and sighs loudly. “I should probably--”

Chin straightens up, and they look at each other for a long moment before Danny says, “The pasta.”

Chin leans in for a warm, unhurried kiss. “Then come shower,” he says against Danny’s lips as Danny’s hands come up to hold his face while they keep kissing, a slow exploration Chin didn’t have the patience for, before. “Stay,” he whispers.

Danny’s answer is soft against his lips. “Shouldn’t make big decisions while I’m riding an orgasm high.” His smile is small and a little bit sad, and Chin’s fingers tighten against his back. “Learned that the hard way.”

“I have a really big bed,” Chin counters and kisses him again, “and a good imagination.”

“Sold,” Danny whispers and pulls him back in.