I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

It's a new day; it's a new dawn; it's a new life.

And yeah, having this Michael Buble song come on in the background ("Feeling Good")

was just a wonderful addition for the muse to draw on. Wonderful song.

Birds flying high

You know how I feel Sun in the sky

You know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by

You know how I feel

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good

Notes: for Phoebe ... who knows precisely why THIS happened. ;-)

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Danny doesn't have the kids the day it happens, let alone for that upcoming weekend. Grace is spending the weekend with a girlfriend or two, doing God knows what Danny doesn't even want to think about. He's in a foul mood about it though or to be fair, he's not in a mood about his daughter. It's about his son and the fact that his ex-wife begged him to have Charlie that weekend herself. For her parents - the boy's maternal grandparents really - who were flying in from England for a short jaunt. And, with their grand-daughter off and away, at least let them see their grandson then.

Feeling taken advantage of but not knowing how to say no, Danny had agreed.

He's in a worse mood by day's end and bitching about everything by night fall and maybe that's why it happens.

Maybe it's Danny's foul mood which has resulted in a sarcastic mouthy temper that triggers it first. Or maybe it's Steve who refuses to be in such a mood in the first place. Understanding his partner's emotions and yet happily humming along in his usual, patient cadence, Steve seems oblivious and yet hardly is. Maybe he's hearing every word and unconsciously seeing every dramatic turn of a hand as a cue.

Does it matter though? It happens that very night when the house is quiet. When Danny's finally at least stopped his outward bitching but Steve is still merrily humming along to himself.

They do it together. In the kitchen. At the same time with Steve doing dishes at the sink.

That first kiss which really means something.

Danny's puttering around behind him at the table before reaching over Steve's shoulder for the balled up, damp dish towel near the dish drain. He misjudges or maybe he doesn't. Hands collide over soapy water and then their bodies by the counter. They stumble not away, but into each other, and that kiss happens.

In reality, it's not really initiated by one over the other. Like everything they share, it's of a silent, very mutual agreement.

It's deep, sensual and so long, that Danny is dizzy from lack of air and clutching at Steve's shoulders for balance. For once, Steve is breathless, panting as he rests his forehead against Danny's, eyes closed in bliss by one not so simple kiss. His hands are wet from the sink, slick on Danny's arms.

They're both grinning like stupid teenagers when they look into each other's eyes again. The dish towel is on the floor now. Shared looks are all cocky ego as if each knew that kiss would always be that good. Daring the other to say that each owned it alone.

They inhale in tandem and say nothing. Pausing for the same amount of time before they're diving back in, testing and tasting those waters again. Reveling in the truth of things.

The living room is dark and that's where they wind up. Stretched out on the sofa not quite side-by-side. Nothing but a tangle of arms and legs. Now all they can see is the glitter of each others eyes. But that just makes everything more interesting and, in the dark, all there is, is them, and the breathless sounds of their soft laughter.

Steve revels in that this - now - that spark of sadness in Danny's eyes is gone. What's there now is a playful carefree look in those crystalline-blue eyes that Steve wants to see last forever.

Shirts come off while in the midst of being locked together, mid-kiss. Nipping and making obscene noises which nearly render them again into helpless bouts of laughter, there's a brief struggle. Something rips along the way. Still, those shirts come off. An impossible feat when neither will yield to haste and yet they manage, each helping the other and taking credit for it.

Once again, Steve can't get enough of Danny's mouth; his lips. And when Danny laughs under Steve's attentions, it only worsens his need to suck and bite until Danny's bound to be puffy and bruised come morning. But Steve's toes are curling for a different reason as Danny's hands trace along the planes of his abdomen, skirting the still sensitive edges of the transplant scar, the bumpy ridges of his ribs. Then down lower over the soft skin of his hips and around the curves to his lower back. His hands are warm and yet Danny is barely touching him. The light sensation of his roughened fingertips catch and tug every inch they linger over and Steve feels all of it. Each touch is sending electrified trills even lower where they pool and Steve winds up squirming not sure which way to turn.

When they stop to just breathe, their foreheads are touching and the peace between them is tangible. Steve closes his eyes, relishing how Danny's hands continue to rove greedily over his skin. To be fair, Steve's been just as eager and their bodies are over-heated, damp. One hand is caught in Danny's hair, the other, fascinated by the breadth of his chest. As they lay there entangled, Steve uses the pad of his thumb to knead a gentle pattern from clavicle to breastbone just shy of the scar left by that bullet wound. He doesn't need to see it to know where it is or remember what he'd been told to do to save his partner's life. He knows the pinkish scars by rote and he winds up sinking lower, gently twisting Danny's body under his to now kiss that same path.

Steve follows the a trail down, mouthing and kissing, lost for a moment in only what he feels and knows he'll find. Under him, it's Danny's turn to squirm, his breathing hitching, his body all but trapped.

He stops when his lips trace the outline of the largest mark and he breathes in, comforted by what he feels even if part of is brain remembers ... the blood. That's not there now though and Steve banishes that bad memory for this moment. He smiles to himself as he nuzzles a small circle before traversing the route in reverse. He ends where he began then; his forehead resting against Danny's, their breath co-mingling. This time though their eyes are open and they stare at each other in quiet agreement to this - to this which simply was always meant to have happened.

They smile and wind up laughing again, soft and low. Noses brush together and then lips, but more gently and with far less of a need, more of a certain... satisfaction.

Danny moves just enough for Steve to relax behind him so they can stay there, side by side, in the dark. The sarcasm and tempered anger are doused, but Steve is still humming though. Thrumming really in a certain smugness and Danny can feel it. He grins in the dark - just as complacent - and kisses Steve's fingers one by one. Legs entangled, he's comfortable tucked into Steve's chest where he seems to perfectly fit. Still silent in the dark, they nest closer together soaking in each other's warmth.

~ to be continued. ~