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Steve showed up in full Navy uniform, trying to ruin Danny’s day.
And it was working.
White jacket, gold buttons, clean lines down thighs that had no business looking that good.
And that insufferable little smirk.
“You gonna say something,” Steve asked, “or just keep scanning me like TSA?”
“I’m sorry,” Danny said, hand to heart, “I didn’t realize it was National Thirst Trap Day and you were the parade.”
Steve raised a brow. “Should I turn around and show you the back?”
“Oh, please do,” Danno muttered, already regretting his mouth.
Steve did.
And Danny’s brain short-circuited somewhere between how tight those pants were and the subtle ink peeking just beneath the crisp hem of the jacket.
“Wait. Hold on.”
Danny stepped forward and yanked the jacket up, ignoring the startled “Hey!” that came with it.
A tattoo. Script lettering. Navy black.
“PROPERTY OF HPD”
Right over Steve’s side.
“You…what…what the hell is this?!”
Steve shrugged, smug as hell. “Figured I should label my most used assets.”
“You tattooed my job on your body?!”
Steve leaned in. “Technically, it’s you I was thinking about.”
Danny choked. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“You’re the one who said I need to wear a label when I go rogue. This way, they can just scan me and return me to you.”
“I hate you,” Danny whispered, backing him into the nearest desk.
“You’re drooling on my ribbons.”
“You deserve it.”
Danny half-unbuttoning the uniform with one hand and holding Steve in place with the other and kissing him at the same time.
“Bet you’re regretting all that ‘not into military uniforms’ talk now,” Steve said against his mouth.
“I’m regretting not tying you to a chair earlier,” Danny growled, dragging his teeth over that stupid tattoo.
Steve hissed.
Danny grinned. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Property of HPD, huh?”
He sank to his knees.
“Guess I better start treating you like evidence.”