Steve moves a few feet, then falls over in a heap of limbs and skis and poles. Danny’s still cackling with glee when Steve finally manages to untangle himself and gingerly get to his feet again.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Steve tells Danny.
“I’m enjoying this the same way you enjoyed my surfing lessons,” Danny replies.
“Did you grow up skiing?” Steve asks. Does New Jersey have skiing? He thinks it does, but he really isn’t sure. He carefully shuffles forward, and looks alarmed when a step turns into an inadvertent glide.
“We went to the Alps every winter,” Danny lies blithely. “You’re going to –”
Steve falls. This time, he stays down, staring up at the sky wistfully and wishing he’d never let Danny talk him into this.
“Actually, I didn’t ski all that much,” Danny says, coming over with an easy grace that Steve is not at all jealous of. Danny does offer him a hand up, though, so Steve grudgingly accepts that Danny’s not completely evil.
“You lie,” Steve says.
“I didn’t,” Danny protests. “I snowboarded more. I only rented the skis today because you said you wanted to learn.”
Steve considers that. “You’re not really teaching me,” he says. “More of laughing at me, really.”
Danny beams. “Payback, McGarrett,” he says. “Okay, lessons. You’re leaning back too much. When you’re starting out, the best thing you can do for yourself is work on getting the correct posture down. Saves you time and pain if you don’t have to correct bad habits later on.”
“If there’s a later on,” Steve interrupts.
Danny gives him a sweet smile. “Well, no, it’s rare we get time off together,” he says. “And we won’t do this every time we do. But.”
Steve has faced down things that Danny’s terrified just to imagine. He’s confronted death and shot it in the face. He’s had the strength and willpower and tenacity to soldier on through anything that’s thrown his way. He knows how to make decisions and stick to them. And he has decided that this skiing business is an icy, horrible hell, and all future vacations will be in warm places with plenty of swimming and no snow. Danny can smile all he like; Steve’s not about to fold.
“All right,” Steve grumbles. “Occasionally, maybe.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-12-25 11:00 am (UTC)Steve moves a few feet, then falls over in a heap of limbs and skis and poles. Danny’s still cackling with glee when Steve finally manages to untangle himself and gingerly get to his feet again.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Steve tells Danny.
“I’m enjoying this the same way you enjoyed my surfing lessons,” Danny replies.
“Did you grow up skiing?” Steve asks. Does New Jersey have skiing? He thinks it does, but he really isn’t sure. He carefully shuffles forward, and looks alarmed when a step turns into an inadvertent glide.
“We went to the Alps every winter,” Danny lies blithely. “You’re going to –”
Steve falls. This time, he stays down, staring up at the sky wistfully and wishing he’d never let Danny talk him into this.
“Actually, I didn’t ski all that much,” Danny says, coming over with an easy grace that Steve is not at all jealous of. Danny does offer him a hand up, though, so Steve grudgingly accepts that Danny’s not completely evil.
“You lie,” Steve says.
“I didn’t,” Danny protests. “I snowboarded more. I only rented the skis today because you said you wanted to learn.”
Steve considers that. “You’re not really teaching me,” he says. “More of laughing at me, really.”
Danny beams. “Payback, McGarrett,” he says. “Okay, lessons. You’re leaning back too much. When you’re starting out, the best thing you can do for yourself is work on getting the correct posture down. Saves you time and pain if you don’t have to correct bad habits later on.”
“If there’s a later on,” Steve interrupts.
Danny gives him a sweet smile. “Well, no, it’s rare we get time off together,” he says. “And we won’t do this every time we do. But.”
Steve has faced down things that Danny’s terrified just to imagine. He’s confronted death and shot it in the face. He’s had the strength and willpower and tenacity to soldier on through anything that’s thrown his way. He knows how to make decisions and stick to them. And he has decided that this skiing business is an icy, horrible hell, and all future vacations will be in warm places with plenty of swimming and no snow. Danny can smile all he like; Steve’s not about to fold.
“All right,” Steve grumbles. “Occasionally, maybe.”