Can’t I Be on Top?
[send email feedback to Lady Oscar about this story]
Author’s Note: This is a response to a challenge on a the Fanfic Ohana group to write a slash scene. Since I normally write slash fic anyway, I decided to do something silly. This is not set in the universe of The Telephone Rang.
Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams were having an argument.
“Steve, why can’t I be on top?” Danny demanded.
“I’m your boss,” Steve told him.
“That shouldn’t apply to our personal life!” his second-in-command protested.
“I suppose not. But also, it’s my place....”
“Our place,” Danny corrected him.
“Well, yes, but....”
“Look, Steve, what if I do the dishes every night for a month?”
“You pretty much do the dishes every night anyway,” his partner said.
“See, so I should get something in return!”
“You do the dishes because I’m the one who cooks,” Steve pointed out.
Danny thought for a moment. “Well, how about the laundry? I could do that for a month.”
“The last time you did the laundry you put a pair of your red underwear in with my white shirts and turned them pink!”
“That could have happened to anyone!” the sandy-haired detective said defensively.
“Anyone who wasn’t paying any attention while he was sorting the laundry,” Steve said.
“Yeah, well, who was distracting me while I was doing it?” his partner demanded.
McGarrett had the grace to blush.
“Besides, if we’re talking about ruined clothing, who threw my favorite tie so it landed in the pot of spaghetti sauce?” Danny asked.
“I was in a hurry, and I didn’t realize it would go that far. Anyway, I bought you a new one!”
Danny tried a different tack. “Come on, can’t you try something different for once?”
“The whole idea feels awkward,” McGarrett told him.
“Why don’t we try it, and you can see if you like it?” Williams said persuasively, looking up at the taller man.
Steve sighed and gave in. “OK, if you want it this badly, I’ll do it.”
McGarrett took out a pen and, holding the piece of cardboard against the wall, carefully printed:
“D. Williams”
“S. McGarrett”
He slid the card into the slot on the condo’s mailbox. “There. Now it’s officially our place.”
“Steve...thanks for letting me be on top.”
“You can make it up to me tonight,” McGarrett said, with a suggestive smile. After glancing around the lobby, which was deserted except for a fly perched on the wall over the mailboxes, he leaned forward to give Danny a quick kiss. “Come on, let’s go up to our place. I’m making spaghetti for dinner again....”
“Steve, why can’t I be on top?” Danny demanded.
“I’m your boss,” Steve told him.
“That shouldn’t apply to our personal life!” his second-in-command protested.
“I suppose not. But also, it’s my place....”
“Our place,” Danny corrected him.
“Well, yes, but....”
“Look, Steve, what if I do the dishes every night for a month?”
“You pretty much do the dishes every night anyway,” his partner said.
“See, so I should get something in return!”
“You do the dishes because I’m the one who cooks,” Steve pointed out.
Danny thought for a moment. “Well, how about the laundry? I could do that for a month.”
“The last time you did the laundry you put a pair of your red underwear in with my white shirts and turned them pink!”
“That could have happened to anyone!” the sandy-haired detective said defensively.
“Anyone who wasn’t paying any attention while he was sorting the laundry,” Steve said.
“Yeah, well, who was distracting me while I was doing it?” his partner demanded.
McGarrett had the grace to blush.
“Besides, if we’re talking about ruined clothing, who threw my favorite tie so it landed in the pot of spaghetti sauce?” Danny asked.
“I was in a hurry, and I didn’t realize it would go that far. Anyway, I bought you a new one!”
Danny tried a different tack. “Come on, can’t you try something different for once?”
“The whole idea feels awkward,” McGarrett told him.
“Why don’t we try it, and you can see if you like it?” Williams said persuasively, looking up at the taller man.
Steve sighed and gave in. “OK, if you want it this badly, I’ll do it.”
McGarrett took out a pen and, holding the piece of cardboard against the wall, carefully printed:
“D. Williams”
“S. McGarrett”
He slid the card into the slot on the condo’s mailbox. “There. Now it’s officially our place.”
“Steve...thanks for letting me be on top.”
“You can make it up to me tonight,” McGarrett said, with a suggestive smile. After glancing around the lobby, which was deserted except for a fly perched on the wall over the mailboxes, he leaned forward to give Danny a quick kiss. “Come on, let’s go up to our place. I’m making spaghetti for dinner again....”