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Steve wakes tense and alert from the noises in the house until he remembers that Danny had crashed in the spare room the night before, and all the tension just flows out of him.

He's loose and relaxed, scratching a hand over his belly when he walks into the kitchen, and he's about to say something sarcastic about Danny making him breakfast, but then his mouth just sort of opens and he can't close it because Danny's in just his dress shirt, but today it's all wrinkled and unbuttoned, and his boxers, his skinny, pale legs leading down to bare feet, and his hair has gone crazy, all puffed up and swirly, and when Danny turns around his eyes are sleepy and he's got even worse stubble than he usually does, and Steve's never wanted anything more in his life.

"What?" Danny asks, and his voice is ragged, and Steve would bet money that he's still sleep warm, and that he smells even more like the scent that drives Steve crazy after too many long days in a row. "You make a crack about me being your kitchen bitch," Danny continues, turning back to the stove, "and I'm going to burn your eggs."

"Give me a minute," Steve says, and he almost doesn't even recognize his own voice.

"To do what?" Danny asks, but Steve's already walked the five steps across the room.

He has his hands on Danny's shoulder, and he leans down just enough to press his lips behind Danny's ear and murmurs, "Just...just give me a minute," his lips catching on smooth skin.

Danny stills in front of him, sudden and terrifying, but he doesn't say anything, and, more importantly, he doesn't move away as Steve drags his palms over the line of Danny's shoulders, feeling the strong muscle and solid bone. He nuzzles behind Danny's ear and then drags his mouth to the base of Danny's neck. Moans, unable not to, when Danny bends his head forward in silent permission.

Steve tightens his grip briefly on Danny's biceps, and then sucks open-mouthed kisses to the top of Danny's spine as he spreads his hands wide over the breadth of Danny's chest. Wrinkled cotton leads to crinkled chest hair and smooth, tight nipples. Steve sets his teeth on the juncture of Danny's neck and shoulder, and feels Danny's chest hitch beneath his hands.

He scratches blunt tipped fingers across the planes of Danny's stomach, the muscles jumping beneath his hands, and he can feel the heat of the stove against the back of his hands, but the skin beneath them burns. Steve moves his mouth down the other side of Danny's throat, humming pleasure against Danny's skin when Danny once again tilts to allow him access.

He's hot all over, wrapped completely around Danny, his cock pressed tight up against the small of Danny's back when Danny puts his hands against Steve's and stops their movement. Steve whines a little in the back of his throat, breathing hard against the marks he's left on Danny's neck when Danny says, "It's been a minute."

The words are soft, almost like an apology, and Steve freezes, because Jesus, what the hell that he been thinking? He tries to pull away, the sudden rush of humiliation staining his cheeks, but Danny's strong and he's not letting Steve's hands go.

And then Danny's suddenly turning in his arms and saying, "Jesus, McGarrett," all aggravated annoyance, when from this position it's obvious that Steve's not the only one who gotten hard. "You're such an asshole," Danny continues, and then before Steve can defend himself Danny says, "I'm just saying you asked for a minute, and you got it, but if you want more than that it better be a hell of a lot more."

Steve blinks and says dumbly, "You want more?"

Danny rolls his eyes and gestures sharply down at himself and says, "Do I really look prepared to stop to you?"

Steve looks, because he can't not when Danny's just given him permission. Danny's hair is still a mess, but his eyes aren't sleepy blue anymore, they're bright and demanding and flashing with too many emotions for Steve to follow. He's got marks on his neck from Steve's mouth, and his own mouth is red and swollen even though they haven't even kissed, like he'd been biting his lips to try and keep silent. His chest is still moving with his rapid breath, his nipples red and peaked, and his cock is pressing urgently against the thin cotton of his boxers.

"No," Steve says finally, looking back up to meet Danny's eyes. "You don't look like you want to stop."

"Good, great," Danny says, like Steve's a prize pupil, and then shakes his head and says, "I swear you get dumb at the worst possible times."

Steve scowls, presses the entire length of his body against Danny's, and says, "How's this for smart?" as he clicks off the heat on the stove. "Wouldn't want to burn the place down," he says, licking a line of heat down Danny's throat. "We're going to be a while."

"Now you're thinking, McGarrett," Danny rasps out, and then pulls Steve straight into a kiss.

And Steve would never admit it, but Danny was right.

A minute was never going to be enough.